In search of a dream part 9 : The end of an era, universal love and a green mini pick up truck
 |
Blaencwm, bookshelves, bric-a-brac and some homemade elderflower wine ( picture courtesy of Miriam Mills) |
I grew a little Marijuana in a space among some young pine trees on a site managed by the Forestry Commission above the cottage. We knew people who were growing
it as a cash crop in hidden polytunnels on remote parts of their land, just
subsistence money mind you, not profit based, commercial production. Some of
them were eventually busted, some just carried on. They were quiet, harmless folk, by and
large. This was always so much nicer than buying it in the city, no clandestine
meetings in the alleyways behind pubs or buying from greedy ‘would be’ gangsters. It was
also much less “stoner” than the manufactured hash you read about today. I always perceived any drug taking as useful for expanding ones consciousness and stimulating creativity, not as a means to dull the senses.
Russ bought a Range Rover and started to run a vehicle recovery business, he had a local Farm Hand that did the driving for him and they were regulars at the local pub in New Inn, one of those tiny Welsh pubs that felt more like a sitting room than a bar and were generally a bit unwelcoming to incomers, tourists and hippies. We would drop in there with them and became welcome enough to be allowed to stay for ‘lock in’s’ at the end of the evening when the local chapel choir would sing, one of those cultural moments that stay with you for rest of your life, a feeling of intense privilege. Russ also took us to the pub in Llandewi Brefi to meet his friends Smiles and Mary, we would all occasionally meet at Russ’s for social moments. Alcohol, apart from a little home made wine, wasn't really part of my culture, I perceived it as a mainstream thing but I enjoyed the social aspect, like the pub in Lampeter where we would meet people we knew in the area on occasional afternoons, between shopping.
 |
| Andrew's picture courtesy of Ase Forder |
Andrew (above) moved out of our place into a rented house nearby, I don’t remember its name but whoever rented it from a local farmer then rented rooms to like-minded freaks and passing travellers. A visit there always introduced new people, a huge melting pot of back packers. I remember some better than others, Yo-Yo John, who sold 'light up' yo-yo's at all the festivals, one of Harold McMillan's granddaughters, that I put up at Blaencwm for a while and a lad who climbed mountains while high (that didn't end well)
I took Giles up in his
offer and went over to his derelict Mansion, ‘Dolwillm’, a few times to
play with him and a few friends when his brother wasn’t around (his brother also
played drums) . The place was fabulous, neglected for years and years, the
formal gardens were all overgrown and the mansion house was roofless and
uninhabitable, overgrown with trees and bramble. There was, (beneath the jungle
of growth), an ornamental pond and little stone statuettes. When I first went,
he and Martina had moved into a tiny part of the house with just a tarpaulin up
as a roof, a mattress on the floor and some animal skins as rugs and bedding. I
started to enjoy playing with everybody, daft, fun stuff mostly, Louden
Wainwright covers, rocked up Incredible String Band numbers, some local poets
needing backing and standard “Chevy to the Levy” type material. It was
definitely more about ethos and shared ideals than musical ability and was a
lovely way to get my hand back in.
That late summer got quite crazy, so many more people would
head out to Wales in the hope of a dream, some just in hope of living out some
kind of media inspired fantasy. It all washed over me really, the guy who ran
the local scrapyard would start inviting the local hippie community over for
free drinks on a Sunday, in the hope of scoring some weed. I went twice, mainly
because I was looking for a car, people often took their dodgy motors to his
yard for a bit of cash or a cheap repair or parts to get it through its MOT. The second
time I went he had taken in a green mini pick up, converted to a gown van, from
a couple of chancers from London who wanted to rent a caravan somewhere and
were short of the deposit. He took it from them with no papers, for a few quid
and he was almost certain it must have been stolen, he was going to crush it
and had already taken the gown box off ready for the crusher. I knew the people
he’d bought it from were Kosha and offered him five quid for it, no questions asked,
he looked relieved and I drove it home, it lasted over a year…
Sadly for me, my girlfriend had virtually moved in with our best friend, we had always had an unconventional relationship, not “open” as such but certainly not “closed” we both felt, at that time that 'love' had a capital L and was a bigger, more universal thing and should know wider horizons than traditional coupling allowed, we loved each other, but we also loved everybody, everything in the universe and wanted to think more broadly than was normal. I found solace by falling briefly for a very pretty, passing law student at the same house where Andrew was living and sought romantic respite in a shack by the river below Val and Ian’s. We divided our remaining money (she’d had a small legacy from an aunt). We asked Rick and Tina to look after the market stall, closed up the cottage and she headed for a Tibetan retreat in Scotland with Andrew and I prepared for my much anticipated overland trip to India.
Comments
Post a Comment