On the same Saturday in July...
Jul. 14th, 2025 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustI wasn't even sure I would make it to the Gala this year. I wanted to; it's always an important date in my year. But I mistrusted my ability to spend all day on my feet, let alone a day at the mercy of what passes for a heatwave in the north of England. Well, the good news was that despite the announced withdrawal of the 3G on which my phone apparently runs, I could still get through to durham_rambler. So I set off, with no plan for the day beyond doing my best and withdrawing if I needed to. And it turned out fine: we did a lot of shade-hopping, and all was well.
One of the pleasures of the Big Meeting is - well, the people you meet. Often they are Old Comrades, but this yer the first old friend we ran into was a poet, which was an unexpected pleasure.
We made our way down to the Racecourse. As we followed the path down behind this banner:
this is what I heard from the stage:
It turns out to be Joe Solo's The Last Miner, and the more I listen to it, the more I like the way it engages with the question What is the Miners' Gala for now that the pits are all closed?.
We made our way down to the field, past the astronomy tent (we didn't see anything that looked like this), past StrikeMap (I meant to go back for a better look later, but when I did they were already packing up), and into a large marquee, which I think belonged to the Aged Miners' Homes: it contained nothing but some tables, a generous supply of chairs, and some people who were enjoying the shade. We joined them, with gratitude to our hosts, whoever they were. From here we made contact the our friend in the NASUWT, who arrived to brief us about her family news, and how her union has managed both to appoint and not to appoint Matt Wrack as its new General Secretary. From here, too,durham_rambler foraged for our lunch (chips with mystery toppings). And from here we set off from home.
We didn't stay for the speeches: we didn't have the stamina to sit in the sun and listen, even to Jeremy Corbyn. We did pause on another well placed bench, from which we could hear the Palestinian Ambassador - not what he was saying, but the music of his speech, and the audience response. Then on to Hotel Indigo (we were aiming for the Methodist church, but they had stopped serving at two), to sit in the shade, drink water and watch the bands going past: and from here, finally, skirting the town along with the crowds of bandmembers carrying their instruments to the bus, and I sat at the foot of Crossgate whiledurham_rambler came home and collected the car.
durham_rambler. So I set off, with no plan for the day beyond doing my best and withdrawing if I needed to. And it turned out fine: we did a lot of shade-hopping, and all was well.One of the pleasures of the Big Meeting is - well, the people you meet. Often they are Old Comrades, but this yer the first old friend we ran into was a poet, which was an unexpected pleasure.
We made our way down to the Racecourse. As we followed the path down behind this banner:
this is what I heard from the stage:
It turns out to be Joe Solo's The Last Miner, and the more I listen to it, the more I like the way it engages with the question What is the Miners' Gala for now that the pits are all closed?.
We made our way down to the field, past the astronomy tent (we didn't see anything that looked like this), past StrikeMap (I meant to go back for a better look later, but when I did they were already packing up), and into a large marquee, which I think belonged to the Aged Miners' Homes: it contained nothing but some tables, a generous supply of chairs, and some people who were enjoying the shade. We joined them, with gratitude to our hosts, whoever they were. From here we made contact the our friend in the NASUWT, who arrived to brief us about her family news, and how her union has managed both to appoint and not to appoint Matt Wrack as its new General Secretary. From here, too,
durham_rambler foraged for our lunch (chips with mystery toppings). And from here we set off from home.We didn't stay for the speeches: we didn't have the stamina to sit in the sun and listen, even to Jeremy Corbyn. We did pause on another well placed bench, from which we could hear the Palestinian Ambassador - not what he was saying, but the music of his speech, and the audience response. Then on to Hotel Indigo (we were aiming for the Methodist church, but they had stopped serving at two), to sit in the shade, drink water and watch the bands going past: and from here, finally, skirting the town along with the crowds of bandmembers carrying their instruments to the bus, and I sat at the foot of Crossgate while
durham_rambler came home and collected the car.
