I've got a secret recording device now. It's got enough space on it to hold recordings lasting thirteen days. I've already secretly recorded some people. I recorded an hour of conversation between myself, the auld maw, Auntie Kathy and my brother Silvest, row of forty medals on his chest, big chest, on my Friday visit. It was better than Brendan Behan, so it was. I listened to it back in Newmains and was falling over laughing at some of it. At sixty I was the youngest person in the room by a mile.
I'm just about to go back to Newmains again. When you want life outside to persist with metronome regularity so you can get into the bliss, movement is all there is. Disruption. Have succumbed to sometimes feeling pressed for time. Worked like hell on the weeds yesterday. Oh, well, all that's gone now. Let's hope nothing happens in Newmains.
2 comments:
I think saving stories from family is a good thing. I often wish I'd recorded my grandfather when he was 100.
Marie! I'm also going to record everyone else!! Hotboy
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