The Ned Wood Archive

Glastonbury we got high
As Heaven′s rain clouds passed us by

Cosmic Rough Riders, 1999

Joe

That area of Glastonbury, the Theatre Field and the Circus Field, always remind Joe of childhood.  Not his childhood – that was all pokemon and computer games.  He’s reminded of a traditional childhood.  What he imagines one to be.  The sort you’d see in museums or in period dramas.  Dolls.  Stuffed animals.  Clowns.  Wooden toys.  

Having finished breakfast, Joe and Ellie are walking down the hill, through the Theatre Field.  They pass a couple of giant kangaroos, two white angels, a brightly yellow and black hooped bumble bee, a miniature fire engine, and what appears to be a train set round the waist of a rather tall woman.  A farmer in jacket, bowler, and wellies is walking towards them leading a pair of geese.  Just after they pass, Joe hears a loud painful squawk and turns to see a golden egg, the size of a medicine ball, laying on the ground in front of him.

“Make a wish, …” says the farmer.  

Joe looks at Ellie and smiles.

“…but don’t tell anyone what you’ve wished for.”

“Can I have one too?” asks Ellie.

The farmer says something to one of the geese and puts her ear to the goose’s bill.

“Sorry, dear.  You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Am I allowed to ask you what you’d wish for?” asks Joe.

“You’ll have to come back tomorrow, too,” she says.

They go under the T&C arch and look into the Glastonbury Free Press tent.  Ellie picks up a copy of the latest edition.  The front page says “Here Comes the Sun” and the lead article is all about how the various headliners are bringing warmth and joy to the festival.  Gaga, Idles, Fontaines.  The sunshine gang.  They sit down on a bench outside the Free Press and start to look through the paper, Ellie holding it open for the two of them.  However, she’s soon distracted by the playthings that have been spread out in front of the benches.  Next to the Free Press is a stall selling juggling equipment and other paraphernalia.  Putting out various juggling toys is a good marketing strategy.  Ellie picks up a hula hoop and starts to swirl.  Joe folds up the paper and stows it in his day pack.  

Joe’s impressed by Ellie’s technique.  She’s almost motionless – the merest twitch of movement at her hips – yet the hoop is spinning round her waist.  Joe picks up a hoop for himself and tries to join in.  He starts by mimicking Ellie’s movements, but the hoop falls straight to the ground.  He tries and tries again, at each attempt becoming more and more extravagant in his hip shaking.  Ellie’s giggling.  Joe is frantically moving around, pushing his torso in all manner of directions but gravity beats him every time.  Maybe if he had George’s style and flexibility he’d be better.

When you dream, it’s like watching a film that you are really into.   You don’t question the plot or ask why a character did something.  You just accept it.  Even for your avatar, the character that is you in your dreams, you go with whatever happens.  There’s no inner dialogue.  And you don’t ask yourself, “Am I right, am I wrong?”  You just do stuff.  Sensible, silly, downright diabolical, you just do it.  It’s the same with Joe that Friday.  Much of it.  He just goes with whatever happens.  Doesn’t worry about thinking things through.  Doesn’t ask himself: “Well, how did I get here?”  That’s when it’s the most fun.  Sometimes, though, he wakes up.  Has a lucid moment.  How is he hanging out with this beautiful woman?  Should he say something?  Should he do something?  And you don’t ask yourself, “How do I work this?”  Then he turns over, goes back to sleep, and continues the wonderful dream.

“OK, try this,” says Ellie.

She picks up three soft red and black balls and launches them in a simple juggling rotation.  She stops after a while and gives one to Joe.

“Just throw it and catch it.”

He can do that.

“Now take the second one and pass it from your left to your right while you throw the first.

Yep.  He can get the hang of that.

“Now try throwing both of them.  Throw them from one hand to the other, but not quite at the same time…. Ready… ”

At first only one hand works.  He can get his right hand to throw the ball, but the left hand desperately clings to the other ball.  Eventually he forces his left hand to let go and the ball flies off out of reach.  Ellie is shouting “right” or “left” in a vain attempt to get him to throw the right ball at the right time, but even when he gets the timing right and his left hand obeys the command, only one ball comes down near enough for him to grab it.

“Don’t worry.  It takes time.  You just need to practice.”

Joe’s not convinced.  He believes that only certain people can juggle.  A bit like wind surfing.  It’s not possible for mere humans.  You have to have had some form of surgery or gene editing.  But, then, this woman he’s with.  She can do anything.  And she’s beautiful.  He just wants to watch her all day.  And you may say to yourself, “My God, what have I done?”