Is Over... :¬(
35 of us got together in June/July this year & 'Celebrated' at a rural community in South West Scotland.
I think a consensus opinion might be that we didn't get quite enough sunshine, we did get very good food, a lot of both personal & group 'challenges' to review our awareness around each others differing needs.
There were lots of different workshops including singing, volley ball, relaxation, drama, story telling, awareness around disability, walking, swimming... to name but a few.
I'm hoping over the next few weeks to put few photo's & some writing here, so keep coming back to check if I've added anything new.
We had a Cabaret Night on the 6th night, where people performed in various ways for each other. The following is a poem Yvonne read for us.
EVERYWHERE,
EXCEPT.....
"I can spot a lesbian anywhere,"
She said, with considerable authority,
Pointing out the accused with smug triumph.
"She doesn't 'alf get thru 'em, like they do
You know, sometimes, she changes her girlfriend
Every couple of years or so....", she said,
Conveniently forgetting her blameless son
Whose sense of hygiene compels him to
Wear a fresh woman every night.
"They're everywhere, I tell you, in places
You least expect to find them: the Post Office,
The Chemist's - there was even one at the cinema
Last night, amongst us normal folk - what would
He want to be among us for, we're of no interest
To him. But he'll be after my son, I know he will:
How could he resist my wholesome son,
With his sporty car, designer jumper and
Fresh with a hundredweight of hair gel?"
I can spot a puff anywhere, anywhere,
I tell you. Here's how you can tell: Does he
Or she run their finger along the top of the door
Looking for dust? If he does, he's queer (except my son,
Who's just uniquely fastidious). Does she wear yellow
Rubber gloves to do the washing up (yes, but I only
Bought them because they were half price)?
Can she change a plug? If she can, then she's a dyke
(I've had to tell my daughter to leave it to her
Girly husband to stop the neighbours talking)."
She paused with ecstatic satisfaction,
Proud of her fail-safe guide to homo-hunting,
Smug that she had knocked such ideas from her
Offsprings' heads at an early age. Smug that their
Balanced perception allowed them to see through
Any attempt at appearing normal by lesbians, gay men,
Black people, disabled people, pensioners, doctors,
Solicitors, Fiat drivers, tank top wearers, early
Christmas Shoppers, butchers, Christians, nurses,
People paid weekly, bank managers and just
About anyone who wasn't a carbon copy of
Themselves. And even they are beneath contempt
For aspiring to their cut-glass perfection,
Carefully purloined from fictionalised images
Of the rich and famous. But not the gay ones.
I had to admire her complex, jelly-based
Philosophy which allowed her to bathe in
Such perfection. After all, no-one bathes in reality:
Instead they stew in water barely clean enough
To leave the toilet fit to be seen by visitors.
Then, just to be certain I hadn't missed an iron
Pyrite nugget of wisdom, she reiterated her
Poof-proof method of flushing out the most
Closeted of queers. I listened spellbound,
Awestruck that my Doc Martens, single earring,
Androgynous trousers, waistcoat, tie, men's
Shirt, obsession with Jodie Foster, absence of
Any male company, inability to be feminine
And a knack for doing "men's jobs" had
Escaped her eagle eye. They do say that every
System has a microscopically small loophole.
by Yvonne Dawn Gregory,
February 1998.
