'I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I go,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.'
William Blake wrote these words about London in 1794. They're lines that don't date and could be applied to many imaginable contexts. I had a premature sixtieth birthday do yesterday. In Rosie's which was always and remains and will remain my local. It was a Newcastle affair and it went well . But the Blake lines came to mind. We were most of us coming to a certain point in life.And some of the stories people told of they personal narratives were tough
Times are bleak. Tommy Robinson and his thugboy arseholes had organised a march in Toon earlier that day. Democracy you may protest. But it's not really democracy is it. It threatens all of out peace and sanity and wellbeing. These people have no agenda but discord. And I suppose we need to understand them as well as we can but we can't debate with them because they're not interested in discussing things on our terms.
Not just that though. It was my first night out for a while and I was catching up with people I hadn't seen for a long time. A pattern emerged early and repeated itself across the evening. People brutalised by employers and the ravages of life. 'Stand up and fight until you hear the bell. Stand up and fight like hell !' You said it !
Nevertheless it was a fantastic evening with people I like and respect. We laughed a lot .At the end of the night, I packed my laptop which had provided the music behind the bar and all of the cards and gifts I'd been given I headed five minutes down the road to my flat. I went to bed. I was tired.
When I woke up I opened everything as I had my breakfast. There was a parcel emblazoned with colour containing two Elvis albums. I like Elvis increasingly as I age. I have a friend who likes him too. She says there's something about his voice. I agree with her. Nice gift ! There's a match on this afternoon. Off to Rosie's ,
'Mama's little baby likes clambake too'.