Saturday, May 24, 2008

peggy seeger (in colour)

‘Darling’ I said, turning to my husband. ‘yes dear?’ he whispered. ‘You promised there wouldn’t be anyone playing the banjo in the North.' ‘Shush!’ came a voice from the row behind. ‘And what’s this woman doing playing in the village if she’s so famous anyway?’ My husband looked annoyed. ‘She and Ewan Mcoll used to come here and walk the fells in the sixties’, he explained. ‘She was just saying how little the village has changed’. Except that everything was in black and white back then of course, I thought. He went back to chewing his cuban cigar, sadly frustrated from completely authentically emulating Che Guevara by the smoking ban . It was a relief to hear the village was mostly full of southern downshifters even back then, but then I thought perhaps it was simply that she hadn’t been in town long enough this time around to listen to the village, only enough to see it.

It had been a difficult time lately and I suppose I should have just been grateful for some time with my husband. The Labour party had been having some terrible election results. I don’t know why people are so upset at raising taxes on the low paid. Don’t they know that if poor people are allowed to keep their own money they’ll only waste it on lager and satellite dishes. They should give more of it to people like me who’ll appreciate it and spend it on nice things instead. It's called redistribution of income. I wish people would pay attention, sigh. Then there was the Telegraph. Can you imagine? me? in the Torygraph? I couldn’t wear my Tony Blair for Pope t-shirt for a whole week out of shame.

I only found out about the suggestion that I was actually two men when the chap in the paper shop gave me a funny look when I went in for my Guardian. I think he fully believed I dropped my bag full of lady’s personal items just to prove some sort of point. It wasn't my fault, these feminine requisites are hard to come by up North and you have to buy up all you can when they're in the shops. The carrier bag broke under the strain, that's all. On reflection of course I can quite understand that rumour because if I really was a man than my recent output of three blog posts in two months meant there would have had to be two of me at the very least to maintain that kind of productivity.

The concert neared its end. At least Peggy Seeger had got through a whole gig without being deported, which was something I suppose. I wondered if I would still be writing Strife in the North when I was 73, and whether I would be so left wing as to make Joan Baez look like Margaret Thatcher. I sighed. As I gazed sadly at my George Bush count down keyring that I bought by way of blending in I thought about the singer's hope that Dubya would go soon and peace would come, but then unless he was going to be taking my children with him when he retired there’d be no peace for me this November, that was sure. sigh. 'Maybe we should bring some free love into the world ourselves later', I said to my husband, romantic and dangerous with his beret and cigar, but he reminded me we had a meeting with our interior designer about the colour scheme for the conservatory first thing so we should get an early night and put being spontaneous in our diaries for next weekend.

11 comments:

Motheratlarge said...

Dear Rilly, I suggest you ask your husband - or Fabio even? - to challenge to a duel the next person who suggests you are anything but all woman. What a cheek that man in the paper shop had! You poor, poor thing.

Expatmum said...

You're back. It's been a while. I was getting a bit tired of reading the last post I have to admit.
How tall are you? Since people from the north are so under-nourished and therefore small, perhaps you're mistaken for a man because you're over 5'1"? (I happen to be 5'7", - a freak of nature in my neck of the woods!)

aims said...

My goodness Rilly! First of all - it is delightful to hear from you again. I have to admit I've been thinking about that newspaper article ever since it came out. I know - I know - How did I manage to read the Telegraph when I live in an igloo? Well - IBeatrice sent me a little note mentioning it - and you - so of course I had to plug into the nearest polar(bear) and have a look myself.

I was shocked and aghast at such suggestions! And I've been worrying myself silly while I chew on seal blubber. I'm so glad you've straightened that little bit of nonsense out! I was getting thoroughly sick of the seal and wanted to move on to training the sled dogs so I could have a holiday south you know.

Mr Farty said...

Rilly, I am shocked and indeed appalled that you seem to believe poor people waste their disposable income on lager and satellite dishes. I'll have you know that around these parts (even further oop north) it all goes on Buckfast and those Wii things (pronounced Why-aye apparently).

Welcome back!

Mopsa said...

Rilly, your gender is safe with us. And as for colour schemes for a glass house...I didn't think it was possible to have one?

lady thinker said...

Dear Rilly - I am so relieved - I was beginning to thin that you'd died as we not heard from you for so long...
You can be men and a dog - I don't care - just so long as you keep us informed of what is going on in the North..

I'm so glad you and your man have made room in your diaries for a 'spontaneous' time- maybe we'll even get to hear about it in your next post.

Stinking Billy said...

You'll enjoy 73 if you live that long. I know that within days from now I will be wishing I was 73 again. It's a great age.

Hadriana's Treasures said...

Us Northerners must stick together! Me Granda and me Great Granda were fish and chip purveyors to the dockers in South Shields or does that still make me middle class after all?

Love your Northern Scribblings. Hope the mushy peas don't clog up the keyboard too much.
Ta ra for now. Hadriana

Hadriana's Treasures said...

Or sorry...meant to say guacamole...bet you've heard that one before Darling!

Cheerio

rilly super said...

motheratlarge, thanks for dropping by. I'm sure my husband wouldn't hestitate to propose rolled up guardians at dawn to any man who cast doubt on my ladyness

expatmum, 5'7 makes you almost a supermodel. This possibly explains why you live in America then as no airline will allow you on their planes coming home

aims, I feel for you in your igloo, because surely you must be homeless all summer? Thankyou for bearing with me though, I appreciate you still dropping by after such a long time

rilly super said...

mr farty, buckfast? is that scottish for bucks fizz?

Mopsa, there are soft furnishings to consider dear, neutal colours are best in a glasshouse, one of my friends has some nice stone throws in her's...

lady thinker, thanks for checking in on me. Rumours of this blog's death are much exagereted, if understandable, sigh

stinking billy, sorry if I have missed the actual day but have a bloody good birthday won't you and thanks for visiting

Hadiana, oh I dream of peter madelson dropping by, sigh. he knows my husband aparrently so you never know...