I drove to Radstock, the nearest town to here and they have a bakery. Independent; part of no chain or franchise. The girls work hard at lunchtime as a stream of workers, mostly builders and other manual workers. The variety of lunch options is incredible. I opted for two traditional pasties and two custard doughnuts. They are my favourite option and selfishly assume that they are what someone else would want. Next door is a wonderful shop run by an Asian family and through the regular use of the shop I've got to know him a little and I believe that we respect each other. I usually buy three cans of the mighty polish Karpackie which comes in at a mighty 9% for the princely sum of £1.75. You can't argue with that. Pub drinking has been sanitised and is not within the scope of the lower working class. To get a drunk on comparable level it would cost about £20. More in London or Bath. So the frugal option of three cars is around £6. It's a no brainier. I don't drink every day like I did when I was working but enjoy a little night once a week, getting drunk and dancing to old music I still love. Recently I've been enjoying an imaginary early Specials reappraisal. The first album is a fantastic piece of loose ska with a punk edge. I was fortunate to see what I believe was their final gig and the first time they played what would be their final single; Ghost Town. The song made number one when the charts were still important. Every teenager watched Top of the Pops on a Thursday night. The song captured the mood of the country. In 1981, city after city rioted. Saint Paul's in Bristol, Moss Side in Manchester, toxteth in Liverpool and Chapelallertton in Leeds. You'd watch the six o'clock news to see where it was going off. Police cars tipped over and set ablaze. Shops smashed into and looted. The oppressed people of all races had had enough. Leeds, where I grew up had seen the police over stepping the line in the hunt for the evil misogynist and due to agreement that he must be caught the public submitted to the police approach. About four girls were killed in the north of Leeds. One, a girl I had seen around who was remarkably beautiful to a boy in the strange change of puberty. Jane Macdonald. He dropped his first on fields we played football on. He left another behind the arndale centre, a side road off the route we'd walk to headingley to watch the great rugby league team. To be honest in 81 a lot of the great team that won many honours were retired but as fans we supported them in their down times too. It was horrible growing up and seeing another woman senselessly killed. Another he dropped on soldiers field which adjoins Roundhay Park weirdly behind the flats were Jimmy Savile. At the time there was no connection though Savile did befriend him whilst he was in Broadmoor. The city had been the exciting leader of the north. Don Revies Leeds Inited were arguably the best team around the late 60s early 70s. But by 1981 they were o bitter feel now the glory days were gone. Instead the fans fought to be the best hooligans and were nearly banned from playing at all. Following a European cup final in 1975 the team was robbed of this highest honour by a biased referee. The fans rioted. Live on national television the Leeds hooligans tore out the seats from the stadium and through them on to pitch while fighting the French police. Leeds were banned from European competitions for a number of years. Sadly the team was on the decline and would not have qualified for such competitions anyway. In Chapeltown, close to where I lived the police continued to pester the largely West Indian community and they had had enough. I remember it becoming a no go area for police as the locals rioted. Building large fires in the centre of the streets, over turning police cars and setting them ablaze. Sutcliffe had been caught. He was from Bradford and came over to Leeds, curb crawling and hunting vulnerable women. Spencer Place was the centre of the red light area however the beast was killing any vulnerable woman he could. His modus operandi was to hit them on the head with a claw hammer before butchering them with knives and sharpened screwdriver:. So in this climate a protest group was formed called Rock against Racism. One of the founders was from Leeds. There was a protest march and a free gig in Potternewton park. If you read reports from the time the marchers numbered about 5000 and grew to 20000 people for the music. I went on the march that set off from Woodhouse Moor, walking to the city centre then onwards to the park the bands played. I remember feeling that this roughly 50% black and 50% white might go either way. Tensions were high and the National Front would sell their papers and try to recruit from outside Elland Road. Most Leeds fans had no time for them however they managed to recruit sufficient a number that Leeds became regarded as racist club. From within the fan base this was ultimately crushed and by the late 80s fans would take an e before the game, get loved up and go on to pubs and nightclubs . But in 81 the politics of the fans was confused. So there was a tension on that day. But it was a success. The two cultures of youths came together and the elders ensured that this stand against racism was a buoyant celebration of their stand against racism and also the unity in hatred of Margaret thatcher who had closed down the economically failing industries that had woven communities together.
I remember watching Aswad and other reggae bands that created a chilled atmosphere. As night fell the crowd waited for arguably the biggest band of the moment. It really was the Specials. After the Laid Back reggae the Soecials had a mental punk energy. They played the ska at a hard pace and the crowd loved it. The best band of the moment had come to Leeds to play for us. The 20,000 black and white in unity for this mental party. Apparently the National Front had organised a counter protest and attracted about 300. This pathetic group ended up fighting each other for god knows what reason. They missed out on a very special moment. Apparently there was tension in the band at this point and my memory is that they played more like the first album and their other number one Too much too Young. They also debuted what would be another number one. A historically important song Ghost Town which captured the mood of the time perfectly. The young people there were only just beginning to decide on their politics and anyone who had been confused now knew what was right. Apparently not only was it the first time they had debuted Ghost Town live. It was also the band's final gig. It was amazing. They were incredible. The crowd went wild together in a celebration of unity.
Rock against Racism was set up in response to two respected musicians. Eric Clapton had spoken to the crowd at his gig that he supported Enoch Powell whose infamous Rivers of Blood speech had suggested that unless the immigrants who had been brought in to rebuild the country after the war were sent back to countries most no longer knew, there would be trace war. David Bowie had spoken of his belief in fascism and his belief that Hitler was the first rock star. For most people Bowie is revered for his numerous persona changes. For me when he sacked/ abandoned/ split up with Mick Ronson, the man whose guitar sounded like no other. His string arrangements lifted a Bowie idea into something wonderful that is still played today. The sound of Starman, Life on Mars, all the young dudes; once Bowie dropped him to go on his cocaine fuelled fsdchistic persona his music is all crsp to me. This is no doubt a blasphemous statement but it is how it sounds to me. I was on the side against racism. It was in direct response to Bowie and Claptons hard right wing extremism that Rock against Racism was formed.
So today my Asian shopkeeper freind sold me three cans of Skol super 8% for just £1.50 a can. With my evenings beer safe I drove home.
My partner is very ill. I gave up my business. My vocation and something that was o large part of my identity. I was Michael Wainwright. Close freind of celebrated furniture maker Gareth Neal. The man who had made the prism chairs for Fred Baier. A man who was a hero of mine. They say never meet your heroes. But he is brilliant and I love his man. I believe the best parts of his work will be historic milestones. He is a simple and lovely man. But he is also a genius. When you look at one of his greatest pieces, and there are many, and you click on to the geometry and what he is doing his work is like no other. Currently Gareth is very highly regarded. He is considered to be the best of his generation. I'm so close to his story I can't judge how good he is. Again his work is in the V and A collection. The museum collection is of the most significant pieces of the time. They are both in there and deservedly so. I would have liked to have had similar success and believe my best work is on a par. Not with Fred. Current fashion in the design world is very conservative. I imagine Fred is way out of fashion and Gareth's probably got his finger on the zeitgeist but in a hundred years time I can see them looking back in amazement at Fred's work.
Anyway I gave up furniture making to be a carer for my partner and has emphysema and is also loosing her mind. I was worried to leave her alone but I needed to take Bentley to the vet. The drive there and back is amazing. Leaving Shepton I initially drop onto the Bristol road for a short while before taking a left that wiggle for a while before turning into Bolters Lane. This is a Roman road and goes completely straight for maybe half o mile. I first got to know it when I was hanging out with Kipper. He is the basis of my character Lipton in the stories I am Writing. It had been a place where travellers parked up for years. Small tribes would set up camp there and enjoy o few months while the eviction process went through. Kipper is a tough man who has always lived outside normal society. There should be a book about him. Two of his brothers are travelers but live in different groups. I don't know them too well. There is a fourth brother who they call the white sheep of the family.
Kipper doesn't give e fuck. As I write this I want to ring him to see how he is getting on. Maybe I will later.
Bolters Lane. As I drove up it I thought first of the romans that built these roads during their invasion attempt. Ultimately the cold wet weather maybe caused them to fuck off back to Italy where it's warm.
I thought of all the people through the ages who had used this road.
I'll tell a kipper story, I hope he doesn't mind.
As a young kid, maybe 12, around time my mother died I saw something that had always been there. Wells has its cathedral. X Glastonbury too. But the biggest structure where I grew up was a water tower. There is a subterranean reservoir which is topped by a grass pitch. By the water tower a large pipe about two feet in diameter comes out from the ground and leads into the base of the water tower. Surrounding the field and tower was a fence which was in cast iron. Three flat plates were pierced by long spears. These were about seven feet tall. Hidden within the woodland that backed onto it was a point in the fence where some brave strong adventurer had removed a spear. This created a gap through which us kids could squeeze through.
To get onto the base we would make our way along the pipe. About two thirds of the way along they had made a spiked deterrent. Again this was made from spikes that would deter most. Further rolls of razor wire had been wrapped around and anti vandalism grease. We'd struggle to get past this but once over it it was only another eight feet of pipe and we were on the base. I've written about this year's ago if you are interested in all its history and size.
From the base it was only the fear of heights. Some aren't bothered and I remember Carl walking on concrete struts only a foot wide. I've always had a thing about the famous photo of the builders sat in a line, completely fearless eating their packed lunches.
About halfway up there was an old air race siren. Once you entered the centre of the drum through which the spiral staircase continued through a hole like e huge doughnut. Once on the top which was a shallow cone that led down to a wall no taller than ten inches. In the winter when the leaves were off the trees you could see right across the city. It was kind of peaceful though you knew it was dangerous. No one was likely to get you if you were up there there were times in the summer when I slept up there .
Anyway kipper was parked up on Bolters lane with his troup of misfits in their various vans, trailers and buses. We'd already climbed various gas silos and other industrial architecture and I asked if he would accompany me and help me rescale the water tower that had meant so much to me when I was young..
I turned up at his trailer with a four pack of special brew and a few bags of heroin. He was addicted to both at this time and had been laid there in his bed rattling. First he drank about half a can of brew straight down. I was surprised that he prioritised the beer over the gear. Next he got out his works and after a hit he was himself again.
We got in my van and we drove up to Leeds. I popped in to see some friends and we got sorted and arranged for stay there. We had some fish and chips from o famous place that has been there since I was a kid.
Then we drove into a small dodgy carpark and took a ladder which proved crucial. Everything had changed. The perimeter fence had a bend over to stop idiots like us. This was topped with razor wire. The ladder got us up and we covered the top with a small tarp. Once on the top we had to pull the ladder over and then throw it back. We encountered another fence around the base of the tower which we did the same with. Then at the base. The pipe was gone so we could only climb. In one of those fortunate discoveries that day you are right to do this a huge cable spool that was taller than us. Our ladder was too short and the light was fading a little. We rolled the huge wooden spool to the base of the water tower which provided us with a method of climbing up. Kipper went first of course. He is a braver man than me. Once on the base nothing was there to stop us but ourselves. When I was young it was a spiral staircase that could make you dizzy. Instead there was a ladder and back scratcher. Due to my fear of heights I went first, kipper said he'd catch me if I slipped and we went to the top. I was just as scared as I was when I was a kid while kipper performed some dangerous moves. There's a little clip of it on YouTube.
There were many missions of a similar nature and kipper was always there the adventure even if he didn't get why I was so fascinated by certain things.
Now Bolters Lane has been banked up on the sides and travellers no longer get their temporary site.
I thought of the romans who had built these straight roads that were so unique compared to the English and how they wind and weave their roads. Such different mind set. I thought of the Romans and their take presence here. Not a popular posting I imagine. The only record about Druids comes from Roman writers who clearly knew little of the inner world and the twenty years training to become one. That's a serious apprenticeship. But the Romans killed most of them and the knowledge they had that wasn't written but passed down through word of mouth.
And since they left these roads ha been used by many people as cultures change. The road comes out on what is clearly another Roman road. But that area is blessed with many things that the ancients left us to figure out. I tried to find a circular burrow in a wood near there and you could see the effort that went into these projects. The men who built Stonehenge must have known that they would not see the project complete. They must have had the outlook of being a part of something greater. We have no care for the future and want to see our individual creations realised and appreciated. We have lost the view of being part of the human race and seeing the whole of us as being the important thing. The liberal movement values the individual. We have lost the knowledge that we are part of something greater and our work may not be for us but for the future people.
As I turned towards Leigh on mendip I saw through the trees that are without leaves and saw a huge single stone. I believe that this was left by the ancients. Why did they do these things? They were just like us, equipped with the same brains. I felt the urge again to go on these missions as I used to do with kipper. I saw a water tower I've never seen before that I must investigate. The feeling has returned.
Yet I am now a full time carer. It's a 24 hour job. I knew it would come and I knew was my duty to nurse her. But I didn't know how tough it is. Her mind was gone for a couple of days but I think she has returned to the real world. Incontinance and the wailing all day only broken by coughing bouts. My partners dad was ill for the last five years and her mum had to do everything for him. But who will nurse her into death? Going first has to be the best way. Now there is no one to take care of her. The wailing continues and cranks up the anxiety levels. She seems to be back in reality now but for how long? Though she is poorly. One of these times she will go.
After taking the dog to the vet I drove further, in to Radstock and as I came over the hill the full moon stood out in the late fading daylight. It shames me to say that being out was a relief from being the carer.
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