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losing the war against the appropriately dressed

by Simon Aulman

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60 kills 15:04
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pmq 27:47

about

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The cover photograph was taken early in the morning a couple of days ago. In case you don't know - you can left-click on these Bandcamp covers and they'll pop out in their larger unedited glory. Those are my feet inside my DMs, and those are my legs inside my favourite pair of trousers - still available in the ladies dept of George/Asda. I'm halfway up a mountain in Scotland.

I first climbed this one back in my 20s. I was free to do this kind of thing - no children or wife or proper home or job or anything at all. About twenty-five years ago, aged about 30, I climbed this one again, this time with my wife. That was the last time either of us ever climbed it. Until now. One morning last week I realised I had nothing to do that day or the next, so I got into the car and drove north for thirteen hours and arrived at around one o clock on Friday morning. I slept in the car, perhaps getting about two and a half hours sleep.

As soon as it started to get light I set off - without a map or compass, relying on memory and hoping that the mist wouldn't get any worse. I am totally fucking out of condition. But I passed thru a pain/puffing barrier and then started to feel really good. I met/saw no one on the way up. There were times when I was afraid - no mobile phone, my boots were appallingly bad at gripping the ground, it was raining and all I had on were what you can see in the photo plus a t-shirt and denim jacket.

No food, no whistle, nothing, just the camera. I was relying on memory. And it worked. I ignored the fear, went ahead, didn't care, and got to the top. At the cairn I stood upwind a bit and let some of my wife's ashes blow in among the rocks and beyond, over the edge, quickly beaten down by the rain I suppose.

On the way down I met one person. She was young and attractive, but I'm not fussy, I'll talk to anyone - and she was wearing the proper stuff - proper boots and proper bright waterproof trousers and a proper waterproof jacket and a map in a case. She told me she was on holiday. She was nice. You don't meet horrible people on mountains, they're not places where people have to be cool.

For a few moments I was embarrassed at how naff and stupid and irresponsible and day-tripper-y I must've looked. When I got rid of everything I didn't of course get rid of absolutely everything - I still have a saucepan or two and a chair.. And I do have a few clothes. Got rid of everything that was smart, I don't do smart - I now can't go to any dinner parties or weddings or job interviews or become an MP, which is good, because I hate that shit.

Got rid of all my books because I was tired of pretending to be the sort of person who has time to read books. Got rid of all my videos & DVDs because I was bored of pretending to be the sort of person who can bear watching films when sober. Got rid of all my music because music isn't special anymore.

In the quarter-century since I'd last been here very little had changed. There were muddy footprints to follow for quite a lot of the way. I'm certain that when my wife and I did it together we'd just weaved around upwards, sometimes kidding ourselves that no one had ever trodden in this spot before.

Down at the bottom, where my car and the young woman's car were parked, there was a large-scale plastic map pinned to a board and a few words about how you should dress correctly and a phone number to ring if you have any thoughts on how the "experience" can be improved. I suppose I should feel guilty, I wasn't on holiday and I wasn't wearing the right gear.

As free of responsibilities now in my fifties as I was in my twenties, I hope that one day I'll fit in better. I really am not a rebel - not remotely. Like I said - I like to fit in. I'm still yearning for company to keep me cosily at home on a sofa in front of the TV for the rest of my life. Guess I'll have to get a job one day. Can't embarrass her at dinner parties by being unemployed. Then life will be divided into work and holidays. And on holidays I can look in my wardrobe at the clothes divided into work clothes and play clothes, the right clothes for the right situation, as life gets neatly sliced up again. To drive along the road with nowhere to pull off and sleep all night, to read the booklets about places I'm visiting, to plan what I'll wear for the step-son's wedding, to climb this hill one more time and look towards the sea and forget that once in Scotland, before the clearances, there were no enclosures.


colourkane.bandcamp.com/album/mild-to-wild

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released November 1, 2015

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Simon Aulman Southampton, UK

musicians are boring

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