Farewell Dolly and back to Lancaster.

 Dolly Parton has died, aged 80.  I feel sad.  As an older person each death reminds one what is coming,  and she had been ill, so perhaps it was to be expected but she is such a big part of my life and will have been a big part in many people's lives. I remember watching 9 - 5 I guess in Leicester Square, one of the few times I got to the cinema with my Dad,  Ghostbusters, I think was another occasion, two very light pieces, but shared with a whole audience really engaged ,laughing uproariously.  And I did actually see her in concert, and almost walked up to a familiar looking gentleman, until I suddenly realised it was not a friend it was Bob Geldorf,  the concert, perhaps in Hammersmith was brilliant.  I know people thought she sparkled at Glastonbury but I was not quite so sure but probably only because I had really seen her sparkle.   

Me in my ensemble costume, I would have liked to have gone the whole hog and painted flowers on my face like I did when I was 15, but apparentlyl that was not required. 

Dolly's tunes are the kind of things I sing to myself.  The songs in Godspell were familiar but not well known to me, but now they are playing over and over through my brain as I have spent the last week with them, back in Lancaster, with Ross playing the smallest part in their production.   And boy have we laughed.  Last year I was too shy to audition, then regretted not having a part, then was relieved not to have a bigger part as I regularly needed to lie down. This year, dance was added to the mix and I have discovered, that sometimes I can only do one of them at a time, but I did audition and I was proud of how much I controlled my nerves and somewhat annoyed not to at least be told I had made a good effort.  Luckily I got to share my small part with friend M,  she did one of the performances with one Jesus, but could not dance as she had injured herself and I did the same part with the other Jesus.  She nailed the tiny bit of dialogue we had on the final show, I never did, which frustrates me, as I think I could and should be better at performing than that, but I am the slowest picking up how to read the music etc.  It was a bit like giving birth, one had forgotten the pain,  I kept having to go and lie down and now my body is really complaining, but I have sung and danced every day, done two 45 minute dress rehearsals and two performances, so I am really proud of myself. I am never going to sparkle like Dolly,  but I have had a lot of fun and really enjoyed being with the team again.  People sometimes are very kind to an old girl, in fact I did not really feel so old last week, but today having an eye test which confirms my sight is going even more I am back to being old for real, but at least I am not dead, yet.  

North and South.

 It is 19 degrees, which does not seem a lot for England in summer, except that it is 11pm at night.  Never before has it been so hot for so long in my life time  The last time it was almost this dramatic, was 50 years ago. A summer I will never forget.  It is 50 years since my mother's death.  

I carried her in my thoughts today as I headed into London for an exhibition at the Tate and to catch up with a couple of friends. .  Her daughters are older than she was when she died, by many years.  We will face old age,  unchartered waters  I seem to grow more fearful of the world and every little niggle but life is also still full of joy too as today showed.  

Hurvin Anderson Tate Britain. 

The blues are brought on by the mostly brutal men making life here for refugees so miserable, but also of course those mostly men from America to Iran who cause the misery that makes people flea.  But of course it is n ot just that, this has been the most terrifying year for summer fires ever.   As my train sped through Enfield the scored burnt earth from a trackside fire was a stark illustration in miniature of scenes all over Spain, France, Greece and so on this summer.  Even whole swathes of England have gone up in flames and many friends have struggled in the heat. 

Up north, dog sitting, the weather was just pleasant  time to catch up with friends, sit in gardens with a cup of tea, and breath.  The flags dying on the lamposts show all is not well there too, but in the village it just felt wonderful to be out.  

Part of the final exhibition at the National Glass Centre

Sunderland's National Glass Centre is dying, but you could not tell on the day I finally got there, after a two hour bus journey, and before a four hour return,  whilst there I also briefly discovered the coast.  Then at Brancepeth, I finally visited the castle, I was staggered by its size and force.  The Rising of the North happened from here all those years ago, and now Andy Burnham is promising finally more power and wealth to the area.  I rode the elderly railway from Weardale to Bishop and dropped in for breakfast of paneer paratha before heading to the Durham fringe festival. Not formally a holiday, as every morning and evening I had to walk the dog and because he was not well, I even had to find a way to get him to take meds (chickhen is the solution) but it felt like a real break, being in the green, when the rest of the country has turned dusty and brown.  

Brancepeth Castle.