Inner ear infection is abating - but I am not going to The Peatbog Fairies gig tonight which is devastating. I love TPF and we bought the tickets months ago. If you read this blog and are in the Inverness area and can get to Ironworks for 9pm - the tickets are yours for a donation to Christian Aid.
I'm not getting very far with my poem about the sun. The song - "The Sun has Got His Hat On" keeps singing it's way through my thought patterns; is it from "Salad Days"? Great song but not quite the gravitas I was aiming at. It's not a bad place to start though - I am writing about cheery postcards and stripey swimming costumes in my imagination - not anthing D and M (Deep and Meaningful). Kiss me quick hats it is. Trust my psyche. I suspect it's a childhood spent near Blackpool. Were the days really longer and warmer back then?
I was cogitating how complex being young is today. I guess the process of discovering self identity is much the same - but along the way the decisions are complicated by a globalised image of what is desirable. Are hair straighteners and a mobile really as essential to self understanding as a personal journal and singing into a hair brush was thirty odd years ago? Growing was seen in terms of personal reference points - the internal journey; now we define ourselves much more overtly by how others view us. We believe our text messages and facebook friends - not our inner emotional compass.
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