One Month

Today is the one month anniversary of my leaving home. And it's really starting to kick in. The homesickness I mean.

I guess I had high hopes, and thought I'd be in employment of some kind by the start of February. So far I have had one - unsuccessful - interview, and thats been it. Not a hint of a word from anywhere else. Oh well. Don't have the magic powers to sort it all out unfortunately.

What bothers me is this: I graduated two and a half years ago, and since then everyone has said to me that it will happen. "Something will come up for you." I'm kind of done with being patient and trying to find work and nothing happening. I can be a very patient person, but two years of waiting for something thats right for me to appear is about a year too long.

Fingers crossed for the next leg of the journey. Hopefully there won't be too many hurdles in this one.

Music & fear

First things first, the gig last night was fantastic. The set was a clever mix of new and old, including some so old that none of us knew them. {However the four guys in front of us knew every word.} It was just Amy & Emily and a dozen or so guitars. I pity their sound guy. His job was to bring on the right guitars for each song, removing the guitars from the previous song, and tuning the guitars for the next song while they played. Not an easy task I'd say. They played for an hour and a half straight and I loved every minute. Two very talented musicians. I think thats one of the reasons I like them. There's no jazz or drama about them, they just play good music and sing great lyrics. Their albums are usually recorded with a band, but any time we've seen them play its just been them and their guitars, and its always an amazing gig. I'd recommend them to anyone.

Change of topic. Walking home from work this evening I ended up behind a group of 'youths'. I counted and there were 16 of them, all darkly dressed and all about 14 or 15 I'd say. And I felt intimidated. Not entirely sure why. Could have been the time of year, or that it was after 8:30 and pretty damn dark out. Or that there were so many of them and just one of me. Or that they were discussing playing pranks like knock a dolly. {Not the term they used, but same idea.} Either way, I could feel me feet slowing down while they blocked the way ahead, and then speeding up once I knew I could pass them; my heart starting to race as I overtook them, hoping they kept ignoring me. At the time I felt a little silly and I still do for reacting that way to a bunch of teenagers. But at the same time, I think I'm right to be a bit nervous.

For as long as I've been going out in Tramore I have never had a problem with walking home alone after a night out. But in the last few months when I've been out, I've tried to avoid it. I shouldn't have to be nervous about walking home through my estate - that's the bit that bothers me as it's quite dark - but I am. Is it a sign of the times, or am I just getting old and a bit more sensible? Or sensitive?

Kavfest

For the last few years, the first weekend in July sees Tráfest take over the streets of Tramore. Three days of live music in bars, on the streets on and off official stages. This year however things were different. The festival's main sponsors pulled out a few months ago, and it looked like Tráfest was to be no more. Two local men - a father and son team - took it upon themselves to put something together. So instead of three days, we had one day. Today. Sunshine, music, food, drink, people. There isn't a lot that gets better than that. I caught a few of the bands today, mainly Pugwash and The Pale. Both were good, but The Pale - a band I've liked for years but never had the chance to see live - were fantastic. They were everything I expected and more. The day itself was fun, but once the music stopped I felt kind of like I was intruding. Which sounds peculiar, I know. I've ben away from this town so long I've missed out on gossip, on events and just the regular week to week banter that comes from having a local with local people.

I was fine during the music, cause we were dancing and fooling around. But once the music stopped and people started talking properly.....I missed my boys. I missed Hull and the people I've left behind.

It's a strange thing that. I was talking to my older sister about it all, and though she did the Uni thing, she stayed at home, so kept the same friends and didn't really make life long friends at Uni. I on the other hand, made some of the best friends I am ever going to have. And now I've gone from seeing them on either a daily or weekly basis to not knowing when I'll be in the same country as them again, let alone see them again. Which is a lot harder to handle than I would care to admit. Although, what I will admit - I've cried only once. Been tempted more than that but can't seem to let it happen. I'm sure it will. I just want to go back. I want to be with my boys. {I know, I use the term 'my boys' a lot, just one of those things. I hang out with girls singularly, and boys in a group.} But I miss them. A hell of a lot.