(September 2000)

I knock on the door which Cait answers, I show her the things I've bought,

-I thought I'd get some naan as well.

-Excellent,

She sits back down and I go into the kitchen where Danny is frying things off at the cooker.

-I've got some naan to go with the meal.

-Good idea.

-How's it going?

-It's all right.

He's stirring the vegetables in the wok, onion, potato, carrots and a bit of broccoli he found in the fridge which I open to store the milk. On the side are an open tin of baked beans and an open tin of tomatoes.

-These only take a couple of minutes, I say -so just let me know when it's nearly ready.

-OK.

I put the breads down on the side and go back into the front room to sit down. I rest the side of my face in my hand and almost sigh.

-I'm bored. I need something to do.

-Have you got everything sorted? Cait asks me.

-We've just got to wait for a call from Owen, in about an hour, so it'll be more like three on past record.

Some things never change. Time goes on but customs and situations keep repeating themselves in our consciousness until they are played-out clich?/2s forming part of a private joke that sucks more and more people into it. Like, Waiting for the Man, the man with the stuff, waiting for the score.

Danny comes back into the room and sits on the arm of the chair next to Cait, putting his arm around her. He nods at me.

-Cheer up.

I grin -I'm just wired, you know? bored, waiting. I want to get out. Hm.

I'd be happier if Liam and the drugs were around, things would seem more definite, there'd be less to worry about. Worry, paranoia, fear, a part of my brain pointing out all the little connections in my brain that is supposed to keep me normal but when it gets out of control it crawls forward from the back of my mind fighting a war of oppressive consciousness. It's not a question of ignoring it, or waiting for it to go away or facing it down, pushing it back. It has simply to be accepted, which is hardest of all. You have to forget it as a problem again and then it's just there, a part of you. Knowing this intellectually can only be a part of the answer, the start, because acceptance can't be forced. Your brain has to deal with itself and there's nothing you can do.

I'm just waiting.

-What time is it?

-Quarter to seven.

-I'll give Owen a ring about eight if we haven't heard from him.

We don't talk over the next few minutes, the music is a bit too loud, we're all fatigued after our various day's and getting stoned. Dan gets up to go and check the food, and put some rice on. Cait follows him to see if there is anything she can help with and just to be close to him. I look at Sasha, she smiles at me and I get the feeling that something is setting me up tonight and I don't want it. She;'s nervous, she doesn't really know what to expect from all this weirdness that's going to happen, hopefully, later. She has only a little faith in herself. She is very independent, adapted to being lonely in some way, so that with other people she finds it hard to react, to act, to just be herself in a crowd. She sometimes gives away all this independence to become completely defenceless, to attach herself to someone as if to forget her own problems, side-stepping that responsibility.

She's pretty, with short dark hair and glasses, extremely thin, there's an air of carelessness about her that scares me. I don't like careless people, I worry that I might be one. I've never even had a real conversation with her, though I've known her for a couple of years and people call us friends. I don't know what she ever wants to say. She reminds me of my own frailty and instability. I remain quiet further, until I notice the fear in her eyes, she's out of place here because we've all done this before except for her. We know, or think we do because what we know is that you never really know and it is risky but that's half the fun, what to look forward to.

-Don't worry, too much, it'll all feel completely natural.

She looks at me as Cait comes back. Cait adds.

-It will just be so nice.

-Of course we don't even know where we're going yet, I laugh.

-Can you put the bread on? shouts Danny.

I go into where the smell of curry spreads out through the air and get the grill ready to start heating the naan. Danny checks the rice and gives the stew a stir before passing me some plates which I put out on the side. We have to wait a little for the bread but serve the rice anyway, and while they start eating I let my food cool off a little, to bring the naan through when it's cooked and because it's too hot anyway. We all eat quickly, we're all hungry and are going to need plenty of energy, though the girls both leave some of theirs on their plates, which is why they're both skinny. So am I but that's not because I don't eat. It's delicious food, spices mixed to fly through your tongue, but not too hot, chunks of vegetables, the potatoes are soft and the carrots hard, the rice is just tender. This is why we get Danny to cook for us, instant happiness, just add food, cheer yourself up, feel full and content. After I finish I jump up, put my plate in the washing up bowl and stick the kettle on.

-Tea?

Danny nods, as expected, but Cait and Sasha decline.

-Could I just have a glass of water? Sasha asks.

-Yeah, me too, says Cait.

I nod and bring some water in, disappearing again to make the tea after washing out some cups. -You skinning up, Danny?

-Yep.

I take the tea in and change the tape to some ambient. Time passes quietly but quickly with little bits and pieces of conversations because nobody really feels like talking too much. We talk about the music, about the night ahead, about things we've already done and so on. It's now gone eight and Owen still hasn't rung, but then I expected to have to phone him anyway so I get up to make the call. Chris answers and after our usual hellos he passes me over to Owen. Everything is sorted, we'll go right down and pick everything up. I put the receiver down and turn to Danny,

-You coming, then?

-Do you need any money? asks Cait.

-Yeah, we could do with some, Dan replies, -for ganja.

Both Cait and Sasha get their purses out and give us some more cash. We open the door,

-If Liam turns up tell him we need somewhere to go.

Outside the air is a glowing yellow and the evening is warm.

-Shall we drive? asks Danny pointing to his car.

-Might as well walk, or do you want to?

-A, we'll walk.

After weeks of exercise through getting to work everyday I'm feeling healthier than I have for a long time, especially after a long hibernation during the winter when the darkness got too much for me, and I'm glad too for the fresh air. I enjoy walking at the moment, the relaxation of going somewhere at your own pace. Walking with Danny is always a time to talk, just the two of us, and sort out how we're feeling so that we lessen our mistakes. I'm a rambler, I like doing things at the pace I feel at the moment, whether that's fast or slow. When I talk I wander through subjects at will and when I think my brain echoes that speech, not focusing on any one thing, just rambling over territories at will, without too much worry. Sometimes the sun shines and sometimes it pisses it down but if I keep moving I'll always find something new.

Only, I have to learn to be a bit more patient, I sometimes try to run too quickly and while it's a lot of fun at the time I look back sometimes and wonder what I missed in the rush, what I didn't see.

-I've just finished reading Hard Times, I say, -Y'know, Dickens. I've never read any Dickens before, I've not even looked at it. Somehow it never happened at school and I never felt interested enough to bother. I just thought he was some moralistic Victorian twat, you know what I mean? But it was fucking spot on.

-Yeah? I read, what was it, Tale of Two Cities, but I didn't really like it. I was too convoluted, the language was nice but too confusing.

-I suppose, but I enjoyed it, I feel like that myself, just relaxed ready. And his characters are great. It's really black, funny. This is about capitalists in the nineteenth century trying to stamp out, what was it, fancy, and impose only fact, you know, reason. It opens with this amazing sentence, -Now what I want, sir, is Facts! Teach them nothing but Facts! You just instantly get this picture of a miserable schoolmaster and all the repression he represents. And the story's all about the need for human spirit, for fancy, even in this soul-destroying mill-town. I'm surprised it's not banned, you know what I mean? Working in an office today isn't much better.

-The thing is, though, it's about the mills which were pretty disgusting, not offices. We've got a fuck of a lot more now, life's easier.

-Yeah, but it's still boring, we're all just numbers and we're pacified by a few more toys. Nobody cares, perhaps even less than then.

-Yeah, I guess.--Did you see that programme last week about the astronauts who'd been on the moon and what they do now? (I shake my head) -It was just like a book or something, y'know, if someone had sat down and written a novel, made it all up. One guy was a God-squadder, one was a complete hippy, there was this artist who only painted pictures of the lunar landscape and even cut up bits of his patches from his spacesuit so that the pictures would have some real moon dust on them. Then there was this guy who's like a complete nobody, just keeps all his stuff in a box in the cupboard. It was really weird.

-Why?

-Well, all these people have this one big thing in common and they've all reacted to it so differently. I just kind of thought of them as astronauts, I didn't really think of them as people, individuals.

-Well, look at all you climbers, look at all the ravers we know, we're all completely different.

-Yeah, I guess it makes sense. I want a space rocket, now though. That would be excellent.

-Buy one from Russia, they're selling them off.

-Yeah, about eighteen billion roubles,

-Or one pound thirty-eight.

-Hah, yeah. We could launch it from Ilkley, go and see the moon. There must be some desperate climbs up there, get a toughened space-suit and go have competitions on the moon. That would just be, wow.

-I've been thinking about the idea of king's lately, you know with all that reggae I've been listening to. About what it really means to be a king, why do we need a king. Like, he's answerable to no-one but himself and everybody, you'd have to be completely aware of everything you did to be a good king. Why is it we think we need people to rule over us? I don't know, I haven't thought about it much yet, I've been too busy.

-Sounds interesting.

-Yeah, well. There's this whole chivalry thing, this honour shit as well. I thought I might come out to the countryside with you more, to study nature for a bit and what we project onto it, but also to get more studies of you lot on the rock. Try and get all the bullshit and the commitment, the nonsensical heroic community stuff that you all play up to, though each of you is different, like those astronauts.

-You should come and have a climb.

-No.

-Hah. Look it's brilliant, it's the best thing in the world. It's better than E. When you're on a route, just you and the rock, nothing else is there, nothing else matters. It's just all so clear, it's amazing.

-Until you fall off.

-O, but it's worth it, it really is, and you already know how to bullshit about it, so that's half the work done.

-I don't know. You talk about it like I feel about painting, that's my clarity, my oneness, you know? I don't know if I really have room for more than one thing. When I'm painting well I feel like I'm just tracing out, pointing out, colours and shapes and textures that were always there.

-That's like a good climb, just everything coming together and working out. You would enjoy it because it's the same feeling. You're going to be painting us anyway.

-Maybe. Hey, I saw this advert last night with whatsisname, you know that ex-Deputy Chief of Manchester Police, he was advertising electronic shutters for your home, like the ones they have on shops.

-What?

-Yep, so you can feel secure when your house is empty or when you're asleep, as if! What about a fire or something.

-That's not feeling secure, though, is it? Feeling safe is being able to leave your door open without worrying.

-Yeah. (I knock on the door) -Hiyah, is Owen about?

-He's upstairs I think.

We step into the house past Josephine, the other Geordie girl in the house who was away in town before. I look through to the front room which has slowly filled up with people during our absence, people looking for company, talk, to score, gossip, places for the night, games, videos, music, waiting just like us, just waiting.

-Is he in his room? I ask Jo.

-Yeah, I think so, go up and check.

-Cheers. I beckon to Danny and jump up the stairs to Owen's room. I knock on the door and inside he calls out to come in. I push the door ajar and pop my head round with a grin.

-Everything sorted?

He's sat on his bed, which takes up most of the space in his narrow room, everywhere a mess of tools and computer equipment for his work. There's a set of scales at the foot of his bed and he's just measuring out some hash.

-Yeah, I've just got to do this for Mike.

-Can you do us an eight of grass while you're at it?

-No problem.

I squat in front of him and Danny stands just behind me as Owen packages the brown block for Mike and sorts us out with the grass. He chucks me a small plastic bag as he's doing it with the E and Billy in it. I check it briefly and pass it back to Dan. After he's looked at it he smiles and returns it to me for safe-keeping. Owen gives me the ganj he's weighed out and I look to Danny for money. He's gets his wallet out.

-I'll probably have to go to a cash machine later.

-Yeah, so do I.

I put the everything into a pocket and stretch up. I look at Owen.

-You coming down?

He gets up as well and we go back down to the lounge to say hello. People are practically shouting at each other over the music. Sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains giving the room a weird glow with the smoke and smell of dope. I see Mike babbling on about Babylon in the corner again. He's the oldest here, though I don't know his age, and he's the most fragmented together person I know. He's kind of handsome, in a very beat-up kind of way, his dark hair is uncombed and slightly wavy with small grey streaks. I step over the rubbish of beer cans and over-flowing ash trays to sit next to him.

-All right, Jimmy man?

-Yeah, not too bad. Finished my work contract today so it's just painting, fun and sun for me now.

-Brilliant, I'm doing a half of these red dragons that're going around tonight.

-You going out?

-Just to the pub.

I look around the room, seeing Matthew, Lindsay, Josephine, John, a Brummie with spiky blond hair who is also a part of the household, Chris who's looking as quiet as ever, and about eight other people, half of whom I know and the other half I recognise. Danny has followed me in and sits next to me on the floor. Owen throws the bag he's brought down for Mike.

-There you go.

-Great, I'll skin up then.

-Do you want to stay for a smoke or get off? I ask Danny.

-I'd rather get off, we can have a spliff back with the others.

-Right. (To Mike) -We're off home then.

-Home? Which home?

-Here in Leeds.

-O, good. It's just that most people here say home and they mean where their parents are living.

-Home is where the heart is, I say, and mines right inside here. I tap my chest.

-That's what I think. He looks to see if anyone is listening but everyone is too busy with their own conversations. -Some of this lot aren't like that, part-timers, he laughs mischievously, like an old man letting a child in on a joke. He cares about other people but he doesn't care what they think about him. -See you later, man.

-See you later.

-You off now? Josephine asks.

-Yeah, gotta meet some friends.

-You going out tonight?

-We want to but we don't know where. You?

-Nah, we went out last night. Just drinking tonight.

With a chorus of goodbyes we make our way to the door, through the pale air that drifts slowly over the intensity and activity of the people sitting down, little curls of smoke spin in times to the music. Getting out into fresh air and silence is a relief, a coming back down to normality, the weirdness inside is inside and the rest of the world doesn't even notice. There's some kids playing cricket in the road who don't even look at us as we head through their game. The sky is starting to deepen above us. The clouds on the western horizon have built up slowly around the disc of the sun, but it still shines through with it's picturesque heavenly rays. Whatever else happens now, we're set for the evening. Nothing can stop us from having a good time now, except the police of course.

Next