Was reluctant to get out of bed this morning - Sunday morning and all. (Maybe didn't want to face cooking the breakfast eggs - incidentally there was crackage but no spillage this morning). So just stayed there and had a good think instead (it does happen from time to time). Came to the conclusion that life is like being dragged over the saw-dust covered floor of an old dance hall. It's true I tell you.
I grew up just down the road from the aforementioned hall. At some point someone must have decided that it needed a bit of a spruce up and it was painted a particularly unfetching shade of blue. Possibly like the hall in one of the Anne of Green Gables series of books except that in the case of the story it was done accidentally. This one was done blue by CHOICE.
A few years ago a storm blew the roof off and that was the end of that. Someone bought the building, demolished it and took it away bit by bit. Not so long ago I went past and saw the concrete steps - nothing else except for rubbish hanging around. It was dead and gone. Once it had been the life of the whole community - now their IS no community there - except for a very few, everyone moved away years ago.
The blue hall once crackled with life and energy - people met their future spouses. Children dancing, running in and out, getting in the way of the adults. Eyes sparkling, just happy to be alive.
We'd always do this thing. You would crouch down, a friend would stand in front of you with their back to you. They would reach back and take your hands and then RUN dragging you at a 100 miles an hour-so it seemed-over the slippery saw-dusty floor. Sometimes you'd fall and sometimes you wouldn't. Sometimes you'd hurt yourself and sometimes you wouldn't. And that's life - no guarantees. At all.
Mood - sentimental - or even just plain mental
Music - I can't tell you why - the eagles
Oh Dafty, that's sad. But so true, in so many places. I only remember one dance at our local hall, when I was about 8ish. Dad got especially shickered and the night deteriorated. Erk.
That imagery is beautiful Dafty - it conjures up lots of childhood memories. We all have places like that tucked away in our past. Mine revolve around the old netball courts - my older sisters played every week and me and my younger sister would play on the playground, in the middle of winter, in the dark where all the vampires and werewolves lived....or at least they did in our imaginations
daftbird
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