Salad Days

The day starts with a swim in the river. Some boys are psyching themselves up to go under. The water is still in shade, and fresh...about the same as the sea. But delightfully dark with tannin infusion from the bush. The kids are also throwing stones, to scare off eels they say.
The music at Womad is varied. So is the crowd. I'm surprised to hear, "They're all fucking arseholes," from behind me. I look around and a young girl mumbles, "I've got tourettes." A moment later,"They're all flaming arseholes." I say, "Thanks for telling us," and she says,"Don't come too close I feel a bit sick." Crazy. The guy beside me suddenly gets the giggles. It's the lanky, giant in pyjamas and he's just plonked himself in front of a short woman whose face crumples like she's just sucked a lemon. I get the giggles too. The music, Trio Da Kali doing a set with a Kiwi string quartet, is sublime. So many people so close together, not thinking about Coronavirus. Or maybe they are. Tomorrow is another day.