Monday 25 July 2022

Things I have forgotten how to do


A red cloth face mask hanging inside my front door.

I keep thinking that life has gone back to normal after the pandemic. Then I remember there is no such thing as “after the pandemic”.

I kept the lockdown rules, all that time ago. I carried on with similar behaviour after lockdown was ended. When there were other lockdowns, I didn’t really notice the difference. I forgot that I once lived my life differently.

I became risk-averse. I kept my distance, kept away from public transport and public buildings, wore facemasks everywhere. (I still wear them, even though I know they only work when everyone does it.  Remember “I wear my mask to protect you…”?) 

I tried to remind people that just because the government tells you something it doesn’t mean it’s true

I got used to not going anywhere, to only meeting people out of doors, to rarely socialising.

There were things I forgot how to do.

Wear earrings.

Wear mascara.

Wear anything that isn’t the same two T-shirts.

Talk to people.

Sunday 10 July 2022

Generous geekiness: The sound of being human

 

Book cover of The Sound of Being Human showing a small girl holding a tiny stringed instrument above her head.

There’s a lovely line in Jude Rogers’ new book, The Sound of Being Human, as she remembers how she papered her teenage bedroom with pictures of pop stars. She describes: “faces that made my connection to music human, faces that I stared at like a baby, trying to understand the new realms they represented.”

I don’t think a male music writer would have thought of "stared like a baby” but it’s a great simile. And as a female music lover (and one time music writer) it makes me happy to see women writers doing things in a distinctively female way.

Saturday 2 July 2022

Ways of listening: Glastonbury, new music and old age

A screengrab from iPlayer's Glastonbury page
Too Much Stuff

I turned on the television last weekend and Supergrass were on stage at Glastonbury singing “We are young”. I remembered buying that song when it came out, and how much that line – the cheek and celebration of it – meant to me. They were about 20 and I was in my 30s, but I felt young because of new-found freedom. 

I realised that Supergrass are older now than I was when I first heard that song. A lot older.