Saturday, 04.07.2018 - 6:26 pm.
I spent most of this week at home with a cold. I only went out on Tuesday after the long weekend (also spent at home) for the Psych Postgrad writing group and the birthday of a dear friend from the PhD. I didn't get much done at the writing group, I was horribly bloated and with kidney pain all day(?), but by the birthday celebration in the evening I felt a bit better, and it was a lovely and fancy affair at a Chinese restaurant.
Then, yes, I spent the rest of the week at home with a cold. Nevertheless, I got the write-up of my sad 5th PhD study nearly done. I also solved a few other problems regarding my research. I was quite productive these days, and I didn't even leave my bed!
Andrew also spent part of this week at home, but because he twisted his ankle badly and, may I add, in a silly way. We both looked after ourselves as much as possible to be on our best form for Friday night, last night: We were going to the Peak District to see Jarvis Cocker play in a cave.
I discovered Pulp because of Andrew, it's one of his favorite bands. Their music reminds me more of Chile than of Britain because of that, and the first and only music festival I attended was because Pulp was playing. Please do notice that Andrew and I ended up living in Pulp's hometown (also let it be known that I tried to get us to live in Aerosmith's hometown; music bands were one criterion for choosing our PhD). So anyway, after missing a few of Cocker's gigs while we've been here, Andrew finally scored tickets to see him live for the second time in his life.
We had this whole adventure trip planned to get to the cavern: take a train to the nearest village with a train station early afternoon, walk through the gorgeous British countryside (one of my favorite things in the entire world and existence), reach the village with the cave, attend the concert, spend the night in a B&B, return the next day on our footsteps.
However, with Andrew's twisted ankle and my cold, and finding no B&B vacancies, we ended up getting a taxi to and fro...which was awesome! It made the whole thing stress-free for us, and it was still cheaper than getting a room for the night after the concert. We experienced what a breeze it is for the locals to attend concerts. Plus, you don't have music-starved Latin Americans who line up for hours, maybe days, and erase all notions of personal space in the audience (you can't blame them/us; keyword: music-starved).
Andrew and I have always thought it'd be nice to have a car here, because it'd be so easy to do this kind of thing more often and go sightseeing across the country. But it freaks us out, driving on the other side of the car and of the road.
The concert was great, the guy has a lot of energy and humor. We almost ended up with our elbows on the stage, but Andrew got a pizza when we arrived and we weren't the first ones on the line at the gates. Still, second row! I made eye contact one or two times (ok, just once) with Jarvis Cocker when he looked my way, which is a silly thing but it was also pretty cool. Andrew was happy. He endured his foot irregularities bravely, although right now his bad foot is black and blue due to the bandage and shoe pressure, and the good one is sore for taking in all the body weight. He'll be fine.
I appreciated the lack of phones and cameras at the concert, and I can appreciate that some artists and venues are trying to get people to soak in the moment (I'm seeing Jack White in June (!!!!!) and it's a phone free concert). Still, we popped out or own devices here and there and got some nice pictures. I'm sorry, Mr. Cocker. It's likely you'll never see us again and viceversa, hence we wanted to capture a few shots. But yes, 98% of the time, our eyes were right on the stage and not through a lens.
Today I went to see Labyrinth, which is showing at an independent cinema. Andrew couldn't make it because of his foot (I assure you, he'll be fine), so it was a chance to have some quality time with myself. I thoroughly enjoyed it, I hadn't been to the movies by myself in so long; I got coffee, and there were only a handful of people in the room. I'd never seen the movie, it is a joy and David Bowie kills me and resurrects me.
On the writing front, two of my (very) short stories will finally be published in a literary magazine in my home country next week. It's nothing that matters, but, well. When I was first approached for this publication, I was told it would be published in June last year. That's how it works. It takes ages to get published. I'm just saying this to remind myself to keep it together over my manuscript. It will be a month this Monday since I submitted it for consideration, and still no word back from the publishing house. It will probably be years before someone even considers giving it a chance.
I just remembered. In that manuscript, there is an event that resembled in some bits last night's concert. It amazes me how I see my writing in reality, and it disheartens me that no one else can see that.