Edge

Over the Edge

Zander turned off the ignition and the truck shuddered into silence.

Abandoned airbase, Bodmin Moor, Cornwall.’ He read aloud from the scrap of ripped Rizla packet he was rotating in large, oil-stained fingers. We looked at each other, then out at the landscape of rock, grass and the top-heavy sky. With no trees or buildings to give scale to the panorama, distances span away over an edgeless horizon.

‘This must be it.’ he said with a note of resignation. The truck flexed and groaned in the wind.

No matter how remote, how windswept, the show always went on. Every weekend we searched out the few remaining wild places: forests, mountains, moorland. Places we could hold free parties and festivals without disturbing neighbours or drawing the attention of police. We dodged roadblocks and patrols by navigating back roads, woodland tracks and ancient green lanes. With the ground underfoot as our path and the lie of land as our guide, we drifted over the edge of the only map we had. Our inner-selves reached out and made new connections with geographical space and geographical space reached in and made new connections with us. We were exploring another England. A synaptic landscape. The borders between internal and external worlds. But by crossing over, into the outlands, we’d become outlaws. An adventure for sure, but with the excitement came a growing sense of unease.

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7 responses

11 06 2011
sensibel

“Our inner-selves reached out and made new connections with geographical space and geographical space reached in and made new connections with us. We were exploring another England. A synaptic landscape.”

Thats a wonderful point of view!!

Cant wait to read the book!!!

21 11 2011
Oksana Wolf

s i also can’t wait the way you write it sound just like what it felt

11 06 2011
Trix5Ta

“‘This must be it.’ he said with a note of resignation” – Classic !! I can just see Zanders face as he says this …..

13 06 2011
mitey

lovely writing

29 06 2011
Steve

everybody says that the day you have your first child is the most graphic day in your life !!!! For me not true, August bank holiday 1990 will always be the perfect day in my life!!! Sat on the roof of the curtainsider truck all day, eating all sorts of things in excess… and will always have a photographic memory of the sun going down.. and still on the same buzz at sunrise…. 17-18 hours of bliss.

14 11 2011
Anonymous

What a festival! A huge contrast to the the White Goddess of the previous year, which was a very small gathering with one small sound system and a single strobe. This year it was transformed…. A magical gathering
..

16 07 2012
Steve

Hi Mark, Thought I would drop by and trigger you memory a bit…
The week before Camelford we did the Cissbury ring festival… we met martin (the bloke who used to walk the festival circuit every year) at the Cissbury ring carpark after sleeping there the night and he suggested to us and the other travellers there to head towards a picnic area near Arundel. We took the site early afternoon and set up the system as people started turning up. We set up the decks on the back of a car transporter truck and away we went.
3 days later we had had 3 stabbings, a couple of burnt out cars (thanks to local gang warfare between Portsmouth and Winchester) and a 3 day party that was, as ever, wicked!!!! I woke up Monday morning with chicken pox looking like shit and feeling worse and you, Zander and Debs took me back to your folks place to for 4 days before we drove down to Cornwall, and Fair play to you, you went most of the way there in the back of the curtain-sider with a hole in the roof in the pissing rain…. HARDCORE!!!

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