Hitchhiking barefoot in Sri Lanka. That was the news this week by phone accompanied by photos of those bare feet but as P pointed out when we met for lunch at the Ashmolean, didn’t we hitch around Zim? And yes we did, aged 19, too and girls and completely unguarded in our notion of danger and fear. At a lovely event for Fallout hosted by Phoebe Griffith I found myself in the company of brilliant women discussing their fears for their children and themselves - at least in the eighties we knew what to be afraid of, the threat was a bomb we could see - and I thought of my son out in the wilds, tasting life and felt the certainty that whatever dangers he brushed with, this facing life was preparation at its best.
And meanwhile in London B is out in their wilds; I texted them last Friday, knowing their engagement with all things activism, heads up this weekend darling, it’s a perfect storm of London Riot - a march for Palestine, a march for the far right and as if that wasn’t enough, the FA cup final would be bringing thousands to the city at the same time. They sent me a thumbs up and I had to be content with that, so on meeting for dinner this week I said, did you go? It turned out they had, unintentionally, while on their way to a comedy club. They said, it was so funny, mum, all these extremist nationalists with their England flags and all the pro Palestine with their Palestinian flags walking side by side towards the starting point of their marches, not talking, not looking at each other, not starting their protesting until they were gathered in their groups. I see it, lining up for the fight like boxers in the ring, waiting for the bell. Hurt, opposition, determination to be heard walking side by side through London’s streets, their cloaks of flags lifting like wings in the breeze.
I recorded an interview on Better Known Podcast this week (thank you Anna C Wilson 😊) . It’ll be out June 21st if you want to hear me list the six things I wish were better known. Can you take a shot at what they were? No prizes for guessing Greenham, obvs…. And Monday night was the salon at Phoebe's when The Suit made its presence felt in a yellow chair…
I was in Oxford on Tuesday, coffee with S, lunch with P, a quick whizz around the In Bloom exhibition, I can never get enough of black Lillies.
Home in time for class with Kit de Waal, this month on Voice. As Emily Charlotte Powell said of herself, I was completely undone by it, and if you ever get the opportunity to study with Kit just do it. Say yes. I’ve learned so much. She’s a f*****g brilliant teacher. End of.
But I had to jump off 15 mins early, pull myself together ( Andrew Wille you’d have been proud) and zoom in to a book group hosted by shannon kennedy - a roomful of brilliant readers, copies of Fallout in their hands, lives of protest, voice and movement in their hearts and a ready stream of discussion that took us from Nevada, to Greenham, the eighties to the present day, and what would it take to bring 30,000 women together now.
Wednesday was The Obsessive LIVE with Wolf Mom Bridget Young whose son is incarcerated in the US prison system. If you haven’t listened to it yet, let me encourage you to do so. Life turns on a dime, and connection is at the heart of recovery.
Thursday was a quick lunch with A who’s landed on what they love, inadvertently discovering a skill and quick wit for campaign organising - they were up to their ears in the local elections we’ve just had and to hear them talk was to know they’ve hit their stride. I never knew what it was to love what you do. Welcome. It’s a gift. May everyone be as lucky, as awake and as able to grab it with both hands as he has. From there to my mum’s old house yet again to pick up one or two last things before the whole thing closes down and is sold off. A 1950’s Danish serving trolley. A little bedside cupboard. The Stephen Wiltshire prints that hung on her office walls. Do you remember him? As a child I was fascinated by this child genius who could take one look at the Natural History Museum and then recreate it exactly on paper. He sold his first drawing aged eight. Maybe this was it.
And now it’s Friday and yes I’m tired and yes I am ambitious to do more. Fallout continues its rollout and I want more events, more chances, more moments to talk about it and celebrate it and appear at festivals and on panels and in rooms and on podcasts. I look at friends who are on forty event schedules and want it for my own even while my head spins with everything I’ve already done and a, you’ve over done it virus ever nibbles at my toes. This is what it is to love what you do. I want more.
Eleanor
ps, oh yes, forgot to say, most excitingly of all this week, T gave birth to 6 puppies. If you’re very lucky, and I have Margaret’s permission, I’ll post photos. Oh Lord. The pinkness of the noses. The squeak. The scrabble for milk. Heaven.
