Day 256: Kicking Up Dust

Bloody hell, that was a meaty one! Biiig day at The Challenge. In some ways easier than the first day, in some ways tougher, but I learnt so much! Full of realisations, ideas of things to do differently, ideals I know are likely to be shattered, but nevertheless I shall try them out. 


Thanks for those lovely people in the old people's home. So many we saw for a second day running. It was wonderful to see them all mix and make each other laugh. Both sides, the 16-year-olds and the old people (many in their 90s) playing up to please each other. Really, really satisfying. 

After The Challenge, we did a lovely Drop2 drop-in at the Hub - the first one for ages. I welcomed people in gently and warmly. I offered them water. I welcomed them. I realise that the first thing I did this morning, in my attempts to 'keep control' of the group, was to lose them by shouting the second they came in. It wasn't angry shouting - it was get attention, set boundaries, get focus shouting. It still wasn't a very good welcome, though. 

A bit less tall

I would NEVER do that to any other group. I'm very grateful for that coming up and I'm grateful to Rob Grundel for running a brilliant session full of new stuff, experiments, flow and secret objectives. We played - and what a crew. I loved the rap battles in gibberish, the scene commentaries, the new discoveries they all allowed. Oh, and the tall kestrel. That rocked. I loved it when Rob lost it with laughter during one game - we all did - excellent stuff all round.

Womby?* or just not sure?

Now I'm yawning and aching for the womby warmth of my bed, but I must mention, before I forget, the joy of seeing, early on Sunday morning, a huge man with deep brown skin, a floor-length rose-coloured kaftan and a candy floss curly wig. He was just crossing Holloway Road. He looked kind of totally in place. Nice.


So many people have been just lovely to me over the last few days. I am packed with gratitude. I have it coming out of my eyeballs, ears, nostrils, burning up my cheeks. I hope to have it dancing in my dreams, too, kicking up some dust.


* I love the 'really not sure' expression on the baby in the 'Womby' bag. Perhaps he's wondering whether the name will appeal to the hormone-rich new mothers in the target market, or whether it'll be just a bit odd, even for them.