I was at a party for most of the weekend. There was a barbecue which was gradually transformed into a fire. L and J and I went to the beach at midnight and J and I went skinny-dipping, which, for me, was a first. We came home to find M imploring E to hold his hand. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything, you don’t have to do anything, but please, just, go on, hold my hand’. The poor brokenhearted (and utterly drunken) wretch then betook himself off, and after a while we wondered where he was. It was only when everyone else was out looking for him and I was going to bed that I investigated the breathing noises in my room and quite unexpectedly found him under my bed. We tried to persuade him out but first had to bring him round since he was basically unconscious. I pinched his earlobes. He wasn’t impressed. He then held onto the underside of the bed and refused to come out, reminding us all of a hermit crab. He also refused to take off his shoes on the basis that they were such nice, new shoes. So I went to sleep and the first thing I heard him say the following morning, on regaining consciousness under the bed, was, ‘well, that’s confusing’.
Then, after two films and a highly successful clear-up operation, during which I did a lot of washing up and sang a lot, we went to the beach. PS and I swam in the sea, heading out for what felt like miles, but when we came back and spotted the buoy we’d swum to, it really wasn’t that far. But in all fairness we were swimming against the tide. I was complimented on my beach hair. We planned an imaginary holiday. Then we headed back and I packed up all my belongings into my two panniers and pedalled off to the station, which was one of those tiny little branchline stations at which only the slowest of slow trains stop, and then only once an hour. So I waited, for forty minutes. Having got myself sat down, bike finally stably balanced against a pillar, I came to realise that the very traditionally good-looking lad on the next bench was kind of grinning at me, gesturing with his head that I should look behind me, and would you believe it but not six feet from me was a fox who gradually edged closer and closer, almost unconcerned by our presence. He was mangy and skinny and one eye was injured and closed but he was beautiful, too.
He then got scared away by the arrival of the oddest man I have ever encountered. From his bizarre, clownish tantrum at the guy he was with I at first assumed he had fairly severe mental issues. Ophelia-like, he diverged from his odd rant – using the most childish language and facial and vocal expressions to express his extreme hurt and sense of betrayal as he apparently broke up with the man he was with – and broke out into a complex song and dance number, some form of hiphop with pretty decent dancing, and then back into the childish tantrum of earlier. Going into serious mode, he then told the guy he was with that they would always be the best of friends and always had been, all implications of love or of a sexual relationship apparently completely forgotten and contradicted, and the guy he was with agreed. I couldn’t make out how they were related – friends, brothers, lovers? – but it was obvious gradually that despite appearances the man was entirely compos mentis, just hyperactive, possibly high. The fox came back and he mimed shooting at him and suddenly got quite serious and angry with just about everyone. Really it was all very threatening, somehow, and I was genuinely quite scared because I couldn’t tell at all what he might be about to do at any one moment, and seemingly no-one was exempt from possibly getting dragged into this strange situation.
Worse still, he too had a bike, and this was a four-carriage station, so he and his mate had to end up in the same bike section as me, so he was following me onto the train. His mate seemingly disappeared. Like I say, I really wasn’t sure what to expect and my bike was hugely weighed down with possessions, and I was struggling to get it onto the train, when I felt it suddenly lift up, and there he was, being all gentlemanly and polite and helping me to get the bike safely stowed and the panniers off for the journey.
And… that was it in terms of interesting events. I am very curious as to who he was and what actually was going on, though.
Anyway. Quite a lot for one weekend, really…!