Joolz and I are off to the Green Gathering this weekend, for me to be a volunteer first aider (all herbal, of course) and for us both to have general good fun around issues that draw us and with which we may like to become more involved. Note the cautious approach. I am primarily cautious about turning hippy, however that may look in my warped imagination. My cardigan is weeping “I am so completely NOT hippy, man, I have not one hippy gene in me”. However, I tend to be interested in the self-same issues that hippies of yore involved themselves with. And here they are represented at the Green Gathering. Awkward. To overcome embarrassing U-turns on me and hippiedom, I have used the excuse of being a herbal first-aider to smuggle myself in with Joolz, who would probably have quite liked to have been a hippy before going all “professional”, as she is now.
Green Gathering will be preceded by three days of first aid training for both of us, then induction day for me and then four days of Gathering. It used to be called the Big Green Gathering, but has probably shrunk since Joolz last went. All in all this entails 9 (nine), as in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9 days of camping. That is also something for which I cannot locate one single gene expression. However, Joolz is adept at making things very comfortable and we are taking Pilates mats and a duvet for me. I can’t sleep with my legs trussed up in a sleeping bag.
I have baked one large fruit cake, and a very large tray of nutty flapjacks as essential emergency victuals. There was talk amongst ‘friends’ about there only being vegan fare available, but I think they were trying to wind me up. I also have 6 bottles of Bin 50 in their very own little wine carrier with plastic (just don’t say anything at all) glasses. Joolz is talking about lentil soup, which, whilst I really like it, is taking on a hippy hue in the context. When I was a student at Sussex University in the mid-late 70s, there was a vegetarian restaurant on campus called “Pulse”, which, I SWEAR actually did use sawdust as a major ingredient in their recipes. There were no hippies at Sussex, we were all revolutionaries. The restaurant closed. I digress. She is also talking about fried egg rolls, so I breathe again.
The cats have, as usual, cat sitters and cat worshippers, cat adorers and cat groomers, cat feeders and cat entertainers at their beck and call during our 9 (nine) days away. I am going to be a cat in my next life.