I spent two or so hours today gathering hay with a pike, making 'wines', with my parents and grandfather, harking back to before the introduction of baling machines. A very old-fashioned, rural activity. It felt quaint. We do, each summer, go to the bog a few times, but this was the first time I've done this. Taking the photographs, my grandfather said I could be looking at them when he was dead - some "posterity" - he's obsessed with his own death.
(As am I obsess with my own, but we shan't go there...)
I went, last night, to a free concert (The Coronas) with some friends (Clare, Shane, Fiona, Maura and Leanne was there too). The concert was surprisingly good. I only knew one of their songs, but I do like their sound. And they were very nice guys. Down to earth. We, afterwards, went to a bar, followed by a nightclub and, though there were some underlying tensions brewing and bubbling, I had a relatively good time. Not wonderful - I fear my times in nightclubs will never be wonderful - but as enjoyable as it could have been.
The best part of the night came next. It was about 2 or 3 in the morning and Clare, Shane, Fiona and I went down to the beach, stripped down and went nightswimming. The stars were out and the water was cold and there was a vast expanse of beach - the tide was so far out. I feel that looking back at my youth in my old age, I will see that scene. I felt so alive.
I need more of that.
I almost wasn't going to go. I'm glad I did.
I need to take more chances and do more things in life.
I couldn't fall asleep last night though.
Too preoccupied with my own mortality... Oh Michael...
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