Togetherness

But we didn’t need to talk about it. Really good things don’t need words. No. The best thing about really good things is that you can just sit there with someone else and not say a word. And you both know.

I’m reading Carlos Eire’s “Waiting for Snow in Havana” at the moment, and that’s a quote from half-way through the book. I just thought it was rather good.

This weekend’s been lovely. I never quite understood before why my parents think spending time at the cabin, just the two of them, is so great. Being a bit dim, I guess. Now? I think they have a point.

So, that’s why there’s been no posting this weekend. Been at the cabin with Martin. There’s hardly even mobile phone coverage there, and no electricity or running water – so no computers at all. Probably very healthy. And I can’t say I missed them, either. I can’t really say I missed anything at all. Oh, ok, so it would have been nice if the gas container had actually contained gas (thanks a bunch, dad). It would have made cooking a whole lot easier. However, we made do with the wood-fired stove. The weekend, as usual, was far too short. Reality intrudes again. But what can you do?

Incidentally, this is where we were last night:

Bob Dylan in Karlstad. Dylan is the real king of rock and roll (no, really). I came close to throttling another member of the audience, but other than that it was all good.

This guy, just to explain my urge to throttle, talked incessantly (and loudly – obviously had to make himself heard over the music, didn’t he?) when he was in his seat. There was a row between us, but no one in those seats, so he was, effectively, immediately behind me. I say “when he was in his seat” as he, and his company, were out four or five times during the two hour show. What sort of person goes to a Bob Dylan concert in order to spend much of it away from the audience and the rest talking? Surely it would have been a lot cheaper to drown out a record at home? I amused myself with thinking up lines to use if I lost control and ended up yelling at him – my favourite being “You know that guy down there on the stage-like thing, making all that noise, making it difficult for you to be heard properly? It might seem unreasonable to you but some uf us actually came here to listen to him.” Never did, though. Once I reached the point when I would most likely have snapped he started spending most of the time away from his seat. Lucky for him, really.

A stun-gun. That’s what I want for Christmas.

There was also the girl next to us who talked on her mobile several times during the show. I didn’t actually hear her, though (strangely enough she seemed to chose the most noisy number to talk through), so she merely made me giggle.

Honestly. People.