A Self Serving Saturday

I am still processing the last three days. Friday, I preformed an original song on stage for the very first time. I was joined on guitar by Zak Alexander and since we had rehearsed, I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be. 

Friday night launched the collective roundup of a two year project "The Healing Power of Music."

Friends and family turned up and we presented it flawlessly.

I discovered I need to practice looking out into the crowd more. But I also discovered that I love singing onstage. 

I feel like I need a few more days of processing before I can settle onto a distinct verdict of how I actually feel. Outside of feeling like a dream, I personally feel that Friday was a success.

Saturday was me running errands and then, in the evening I went to the Manchester Cathedral to watch a candlelight concert. The London Concertant performed The Marriage Of Figaro Overture, Vaughan Williams' The Lark Ascending and Vivaldi's Four Seasons. All of these peices are attached to precious memories for me so there were times when I was silently crying.

The cathdral is stunning. And thankfully, I managed to sit where both seats on either side of me were empty.

In front of me sat a throuple (two women, one man). The younger woman was clearly drunk, spilled her drink and kept chatting. The man disappeared for the first half doing God knows what (blasphamous pun fully intended) and when he retured was very handsy and heavy on the PDA with the younger of the two women, occasionally reaching over to affectionately give the other woman a kiss on her forhead or hand.

Clearly, the second women chose the date place because she became very excited when her favourite section of Vivaldi played. At one point the man starts massageing the younger woman's neck and she pushes his hand away whispering "Don't touch me." Turns out not everyone is allowed to have thier cake and eat it too and I'm saying that as someone who used to be in a poly relationship in my past.

When the concert finished they all got up, turning around to apologise profusely, to which I responded with a big grin on my face "No worries, glad you enjoyed it."

Now, don't get me wrong, there were times I wanted to lean forward and tell them all to shut the fuck up but who am I to be the asshole that throws cold water on thier date night? Clearly the older woman wears the pants in that threesome and she seemed to be having the time of her life.

Speaking to the mother and her son who were sitting next to me, we had a wonderful discussion about classical music and books, which rightened my mood, considering I had really bad sensory overload during the interval and almost had a panic attack. 

I said goodbye, took some pictures and then walked around the outside of the cathedral. I saw a cluster of ladies deep in conversation while one was trying to get her picture taken. I happily took some for her and she took some for me.

I then went back to the main gerden, taking pictures of the roses and leaning down to smell them. As I do I hear " You look beautiful darling," I look up. There are pubs lining the outside of the Cathedral (ironically you could, in theory, beg God for forgiveness and then go drink yourself into oblivion after service has finished) and the fooball has been on so at 21:30 it is going to be packed with drunks and I knew that when I left the cathedral.

I look up, smile, say thank you and continue to look at the flowers. He is sitting at one of the benches there is no drink in front of him. He continues to shout out to me and I ignore him, looking at the spider hidden inside the rose instead. I think please don't come over...jinxing myself as he gets up and climbs over the low wall to me. 

"You know you're beautiful, you know my daughter, Rosie, I named her after the roses." He says looking at me. He steps forward, swinging his arm wide in an attempt to put his arm around my shoulder. I stp back. He lets his arm drop to his side.

I walk along, and he follows me; I smile widely at him, looking him in the eyes. He has dull green blue eyes. "Awww, that's beautiful, are you close with your daughter?" He looks away deflecting "No, no, let's smell the beautiful roses." 

"She's a good girl, Rosie. You're beautiful, what's your name?"

I can see I've hit a nerve. He wants me to see him as a good man, words of care and comfort swirl around my head. But something inside me shifts.

 "My name is not any of your business, but I'm sure you did your best to be a good father to Rosie." 

He looks at me, smiling. I've only given him crumbs but to a starving man they are a feast. 

I can tell somewhere in his life he let her down, I can also see that he wants forgiveness but he also thinks I'm weak and vaulnerable.  He stumbles forward and grabs a cluster of white roses, pulling them forward, he smells them "Let's smell the flowers."

"Don't hurt the flowers," I say gently, as he pulls them foward beckoning me over.

He repeats himself, telling me he isn't hurting them and to come and smell them. 

I root myself to the spot, firming my tone only sightly. "I think I've smelt enough flowers tonight."

I am still smiling but I can feel so much more is in my eyes as I refuse to break eye contact with him.  I think so loudly that it's screaming through my eyes. I can seeeee yooouu. Why don't you go back to wherever you hid you pathetic excuse for a man? I will not forgive or accept you. He steps away, startled and speechless. He wonders away without glancing back at me. 

I have never been afraid of strangers. Why should I, when I can be a lot more terrifying than what anyone could ever possibly do to me?

I was taught very late in life that a smile and a laugh can lead to pain and fear. I hold those lessons engraved in my veins, and yes, I am aware that men take that as a sign that I'm nieve or gullible just because I smile or laugh, but I also understand that light tends to bring darkness in it's shadow. 

I will not change who I am out of fear. I will enjoy the roses when I want to. I do not have the time or patience to be controlled or manipulated. Some call it being stong willed, others call it being stubborn. I call it simply, being myself. I don't need to threaten in order to be threatening, I don't need to act crazy in order to seem unhinged. I have accepted that I am quite capable of defending myself if need be. I constanly observe people and my surroundings which is why going out exhausts me. But it's all in good fun.