The Ned Wood Archive

Joe

It’s still raining, but you can’t sit around all day waiting for it to stop. One by one, the lads are getting up. Joe’s been back at the camp for a while now. He had breakfast at Henry’s Beard in the Green Fields, then wandered for a while, all wrapped up in his waterproof jacket and trousers, him and a few other hardy souls. Now he’s under the awning outside Tom’s tent having a chat. They are debating where to go for breakfast – or lunch as far as Joe’s concerned. They are all planning to see the New York Brass Band that afternoon, so they’ll probably meet up there. And Meg will be arriving sometime later, so Joe and Tom need to keep an eye on their phones so they can meet her back at the tents.

George shows his beautiful face around 12 and suggests that he and Joe get some grub. The rain is lighter now. They head off down towards the railway and then along to the Greenpeace crossroads. There is a creperie there which’ll do for both of them.

However, before they reach the creperie, they hear the jaunty party sounds of a ska band. There is something about ska that gets your whole body moving. It’s a reflex movement. An immediate, uncontrollable response to a stimulus. In other words, you’ve got no choice. Return of Django. Liquidator. Wine or Grind. Shanty Town. You’re not in control. The music is.

George recognises an old Toots & the Maytals number and decides to join in. No. That’s wrong. The music decides that George is gonna join in. “Aye, aye, aye … huggin’ up the big monkey man” he cries and heads off towards the sound. Joe follows him. Al Capone guns don’t argue. Around the Croissant Neuf bandstand are six or seven white clad musicians. One drum, one guitar, and loads of brass. They’ve got skeletons drawn on their white suits and day of the dead paint on their faces. And they’re having a party. Joe recognises a few more of the tunes – ska classics and some other stuff in ska style like 7 Nation Army. It’s such a joyous sound that it stops the rain completely. At least for now.

A crowd has formed around the band, everyone bouncing up and down in time. The musicians start moving around the field while playing. The crowd follows. Some bright spark decides to form a conga. George and Joe join in, swaying left and right, and occasionally kicking out their legs to either side as the line moves forward behind the musicians.

One lap takes them down to the Greenpeace crossroads. As they swing round, Joe sees a face he’s been dreaming about and, before he knows how, she’s joined in the conga line between him and George.

Did she jump or was she pushed? Joe can’t remember reaching out and grabbing her hand. She was standing there, then she was in the line in front of him. Maybe he willed it. What’s it called when you think about something and then it happens?

Joe’s trying to keep his hands on her hips which is proving pretty difficult as the line jumps around to the music. Every time his fingertips make contact, they buzz with an electric pins and needles sensation. She shouts something, but he can’t hear enough above the music and the crowd singing. The band is playing that old song “It Must Be Love” in the style of Madness, but it’s getting crazier and crazier. The conga line hops and jerks like a whip cracking. Is she finding it just as hard to stay connected to George who is just in front of her? She turns round once or twice, when she can get her balance. She smiles at him but then has to refocus on staying upright. It seems to Joe that George is deliberately making sudden exaggerated movements to throw her off. They all need to pay full attention to keep this line intact.

Then suddenly she’s gone. Just as quick as she appeared, she went. He’s left standing alone. No girl. No George. No conga line. What just happened? Was it just his imagination?