The Space Between

I’m writing this during the lull, the space between this Christmas and the New year, and another new start? Out with the old and in with the new, so long 2020 and hello 2021.

 There’s a change in the weather, a rare outbreak of sunshine and dry weather amid the seemingly endless days of overcast skies and constant rain , the welcome party for Brexit Britain.  Politics aside, It would seem everyone and their dog/s  have come out to play. I feel that after indulging in numerous flat screen Dickensian festive dramas  I should be brimming over with seasonal munificence… but I’m not, at least not today anyway.

Things have been slipping of late , Monday and Tuesday have morphed into Museday followed by Wursday and Fritaday which leaves us with Someday .  

There’s ruminations in the kitchen and discontentment on the stairs,  overindulgence on social media  and the seemingly  endless  the spread of cheesy tv  is making me feel  quite queasy.  That’s not to make light of those who have been  facing real issues and difficulties throughout 2020,  I’ve just heard  in the last day or so of a friends friend who decided to end it all pool of blood. This is just the saddest of news. I’m just trying  to add some perspective  to those of us  living in the world  of the worried well and dwelling on our 1st world problems . 

 

Waving ?

Living in the South West of England there is still time  to get out whilst  our tier measures still permit. (Not for long as it turned out ).

I’m sitting in some café, peopled with folk in their hubs and bubbles. It’s quietly reassuring that we can gather in one place to sit chat as a group  or to  think by oneself. Moments to treasure, tables with families, appropriately distanced friends, studious graduates getting out of the house along with the occasional business bod, beavering away at their tiny laptops, its almost beautiful .  I would like to think that such places cut across cultural and social boundaries, but the reality is that this is only a slice of society.  Outside the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer and from the comfort of this cafe table there are moments when I too am   not sure if  I or those I know are waving or drowning .

Anyway,…welcome to the 2nd Deviation Street blog. As such I should be writing about 2021 with overflowing enthusiasm, joyfully informing you about forthcoming articles, features and interviews and telling you of our current range of products on sale in our new online shop which is up and running (walking actually ) and what other products and designs will be coming along. Or musing on imagery of William Blake and its relevance in the here and now. Or asking if you’ve heard the latest Snail Mail album and  asking what you think of the Oh Sees and let’s give a shout out to the late poet James Kirkup who wrote in 1976 the controversial and  banned  poem “The Love That Dares to Speak Its Name.

The Love That Dares To Speak Its Name
By James Kirkup

As they took him from the cross
I, the centurion, took him in my arms-
the tough lean body
of a man no longer young,
beardless, breathless,
but well hung.

Snail Mail (Lyndsey Jordan)

  But maybe that particular article can wait till Easter. In the meantime we will be adding our 2021 content in the coming days . For now  just remember to support your  local independent record / bookstore and spend some of that Christmas money. Seek out a little or unknown artist and make their day by buying  an artwork simply offer some words of hope and encouragement, some people are drowning and your words could help .

Don’t forget to visit our ever emerging online store or buy us a coffee via the online app .

Its 2021  Stay Safe    Love Your Street

Brian Gibson -Deviation Street Magazine Editor