990505.2341 the gugh

well here i am , my first night of proper solitude . rhondda left at quarter past two . the rising tide called back the last few trippers some three hours later . i watched , fascinated , as the strip of dry sand narrowed with each wave until finally the water was unbroken . the gugh had a human population of one .

it does feel odd . from where i am working i can see the sand bar , or the water which covers it , just by looking over my left shoulder . throughout the evening i found myself periodically staring out that way , seeing the puckered grey surface of the water where the tide flowed over the sand .

the party on sunday night to celebrate the conclusion of the gig championships was a marvellous affair , located on a farm in the middle of st mary’s . a stage had been built from scaffolding , polythene and wooden palettes . this stood at one end of field , its boundaries defined by bare grey trees which reached up and met thirty or forty feet above the ground . it was like the skeleton of some crazy gaudi folly . in the centre of this space an enormous bonfire had been laid . coloured lights were strung along the trees and across the front of the stage . elsewhere two barns housed a bar and a barbecue .

it had been a blazingly gorgeous day . but as the sun sank a fog descended and with it an expectant hush . i arrived early with < touching cloth > , the evening’s main band . after a rudimentary sound check we wandered up to the bar . then it seemed as if the place was suddenly thronged with people . most of the evening is a blur . i was up on stage for a few songs , playing my soprano sax with appropriate gusto , but i suspect it was generally inaudible . the fire was damn hot . i think i took some photos . everyone seemed to be having a good time . especially james watt , to whom i spoke for the first time having conversed formerly by email . somehow he managed to demolish ten feet of granite wall through the sheer force of his dancing . didn’t do his ankle any good though . i remember walking up to watermill along the moonlit road with gaz and button .

monday was a quiet day .

: cH