So, here we are back in the UK and it’s quiet.
Normally I’d be like a swan right now.
Gracefully floating out on the water but paddling like fuck underneath it trying to sort out a stage for Rhythms of the World but at this moment, although rumours are everywhere, there is absolutely nothing occurring.
Oh well, whatever…
Actually that's not entirely accurate.
The country is experiencing a bit of wind...
And being perched at the top of a hill, we're getting some of it.
And it's getting worse...
And worse.
Until, late one night...
One of our fence panels flew into next door's garden.
The greenhouse was damn near turned inside out...
Haddy in the meantime has resolved to go the final mile and get British citizenship.
It’s another thousand plus pounds, plus another load of tests at examination centres.
Because she’s of African descent and not European she has to be able to prove that she can read, write and understand the English language, but at least this last hurdle applies to every immigrant as opposed to the previous ones which don’t apply to Europeans.
Christmas just seems to come and go.
We spend Christmas day at my Mother’s as usual because at her age she is really unable to travel far at all.
I got to cook the dinner which seemed to turn out ok.
The M25 has to be one of the worst roads in the country at busy periods and Christmas is definitely quite busy.
Most of my time is now spent working because with the size of the citizenship bill the overtime is going to come in handy.
The fact that it now seems that the whole country is under water just adds to the ‘enjoyment’ of the times…
It now seems like it's been raining for ever.
It’s cold.
It’s wet.
And it’s bloody uncomfortable when you are out in it and soaked to the skin because your ‘so-called’ waterproofs aren’t.
In truth it’s fucking horrible and it seems like the whole of the country has the miseries ?
Although to be fair, living at the top of a hill we are better off than a lot of the population, even some that we know.
Some are under ten feet of water…
So there we are, time is passing, the floods are receding, we’re both working our socks off, and we get the ‘very worrying’ telephone call from the kids…
Apparently Housainatou is being blackmailed ?
It turns out that the son of the owner of the money shop (a bit like Western Union over here) where she works, who had already told us he wanted to marry her sister has decided to, how shall I put it nicely ?
Lose some money that she’d signed for, which would only reappear if he was formally introduced to her sister Hassanatou with a view to marriage…
Needless to say they were both a little worried about this to say the least.
Housai’,because she was being used as a pawn in his nefarious little scheme, and Hassa’ because she couldn’t stand the slimy little shit.
Now this sort of behaviour might be common in some countries including theirs but it’s not something that we tend to have to deal with that often in the UK.
He thinks, as quite a few do out there, that money can buy him anything he wants and being the boss’s son entitles him to treat young women as objects that he can buy as he wishes and discard whenever he likes.
Unfortunately for him he has picked on the wrong two young women, and certainly the wrong family to try that crap on with…
So, how much will Housai’ miss the job ?
She wants out, and NOW !!!
And Hassa’ ?
She’s worried about her sister’s name getting tarnished.
Ok, so here’s what we’re going to do…
Housai’ is going to ‘act’ all ‘worried’ (that bit wasn’t too difficult, she was…) and tell him that she’s talking to her sister, and Hassa’ is not going to visit her whatsoever at work.
When Housai’ gets paid at the end of the month and the money is in her account then she is going to call the person who employed her who is actually the partner of this bloke’s Father and tell him what is going on, then tell him she is leaving right now then and there, and then give him (and only him) the keys to her drawer and walk away.
This will necessitate an investigation and because matey boy will have no knowledge of it, hopefully the money will be found in his money drawer ?
And you can all guess where the money was found, can't you ?
It’s not really taxing on the old brain cells, is it ?
It was.
The sad thing for Housai’ was that she had to leave a job she liked and had been trained for, but from our perspective there was no choice.
If that slimy little shit thinks he can blackmail one of the children just because he’s the boss’s son then he’s going to have to think again.
It’s not endemic to the country but that sort of thing does go on, and it only takes the one bad apple.
Not that anything will happen to the person who caused the problem, he’ll just walk away and try it on somebody else.
Protected, as always, by his Father’s money.
Sickening isn’t it ?
But you live and learn.
Or as my wife says...
‘It’s The Gambia…’
And then in early February I hear a rumour.
Apparently there will be a Rhythms of the World and it’ll be in August, the week before Cropredy instead of July ?
Then the e-mails and texts start appearing…
Can I go to this and that meeting ?
Ok, I’m in…
And waddaya know ?
The rumour that I got from a member of the public is absolutely spot-on accurate including the date.
Secrecy ?
It’s a piss take.
The Priory has been taken over by a new company and they are keen to continue with the event but it has to remain secret for another month so that the new owners can fly over and make a joint announcement with the Rhythms organisers.
But…
If the acts can keep a secret then I can start booking some.
Three and a half months is not ideal but we’ll get there.
Yes, I know…
March, April, May, June and July doesn’t add up to three and a half, does it ?
But that three and a half is up to the time the official programme goes to press and so they require every stage’s artists list by the last day of May.
Time to go into overdrive, methinks ?
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