The end of summer bank holiday bookends from late May, a time of freshness and hope to one of remembering, thoughts, placing in time. Arranging big groups of people to get together from all corners of the globe, friends of friends. Your tribe expanding. Connecting to your partners world. Expanding the love. The end of summer August bank holiday has a moving melancholic feel, the end of something. Long days, endless sunshine, warmth, freedom, outside. The first slight chill in the air which catches you, brings up thoughts of future days huddled beside a pitch in multiple layers, a woolly hat pulled over your ears. The smell of cheap burgers and chips as the new football season roars into view. I love those months of silence, away from the constant bombardment of people kicking something round, an old bladder. In the old days it was a solid mass, sturdy boots against immovable object now replaced by soft leather slippers and a beachball. Everything is lighter nowadays which is much better when you are trying to head the thing. Picking blackberries, the garden starting to wilt and weeds grow slightly slower, the lawn has one or two cuts left in it. I often go on holiday in September because it’s cheaper and foreign climbs still retain their warmth without the crowds. There is a melancholic glow to things though, a sadness which feels healthy to indulge. Campsites gradually battering down, a wet dew meeting you as feet exit the tent. A freshness. The sky takes on a pastel consistency, peach, soft yellows. Gentle light overtaking the harshness. This bank holiday, iconic Bristol band Massive Attack played what could possibly be their last ever gig, outside on the downs, rain squalling around the band like usual. The force of staccato synth lines, bass rumblings, ethereal vocals reaching up into the atmosphere, pulling clouds together, hugging the ground. A mass of people worshipping and thinking, political slogans and messaging, vital images. This is more than a concert but a moment in time, remembering the need for action, climate, war, famine raging across the world as we party. The sound of Massive will linger in that space for ever, the Bristol air always containing familiar refrains. The sound of the place amplified. Looking around, seeing old and new friends, familiar faces from the city village in all directions come to be part of the last rights, a collective moment no one will forget. History being made while the current world is centre stage. Groups of people clinging close to each other, providing solace for times ahead. The sounds of the band drift on as the world keeps turning.
