Rosie likes having it large.
Rosie likes getting her Doc Marten boots out onto the dancefloor with
her mates and fucking going for it.
Rosie took an E at 7 o’clock and has never laughed and hugged and fallen
over so much, and her mates are the very best, THE best mates a girl could
have, and no fucking blokes waggling their cocks around come even CLOSE. And Rosie has a heart which is big and open
and kind and takes no shit but knows how to give a sucker a break. Rosie loves Spiral Tribe, and Back to the
Planet, and a bit of hardcore. She’ll
dance to anything that’s loud and up for it.
Peanut Rosie, Rosie Tea. One day
her hair’s red, one day it’s blue, and on every arm and every leg there’s
another tattoo, and this one’s to welcome you.
This is me, I’m Rosie Tea. Yeah,
she could be a slam poet too. So why
Ray? Because she’s having a baby. And something was kind in his eyes. But she’s not the type to fall for that
tripe. No fucking way.
But her mates all went off to Spain, and Ireland, and
Australia, and the new lot aren’t the same.
They don’t know what it’s all about, they just want to get off their
heads. They don’t understand that it all
comes from community, that’s what it’s all about. Every time you go to a rave now, there’s some
tripped up bollock groping your tits and trying to sell you asprins. And she doesn’t dance as much as she used
to. Except when the mood takes her. And her crew are with her.
So, right, she had a bit of a fuck with this skinhead guy,
no idea who he was but he had a lovely smile and a bottle of JD and she was
feeling horny, and who are you to judge?
You don’t fucking judge her! So
they had a bit of a bunk up and his johnny split and she couldn’t get hold of a
morning after cos she was on the road, so there she was, same old story, up the
pudding club. It didn’t really concern
her at first. There were plenty of
raggle taggle kids on site and at the festie’s, all wised up like their mums, all
skanking like their dads. But she did
the right thing and laid off the booze and the E, even the smokes though it
almost killed her. She wanted to do it
right for this little babe. So she went
cold turkey, she went all natural. Even
let the colour come out of her hair, went back to the colour she’d last seen at
the age of 13, she’d almost forgotten what it looked like.
It wasn’t really about the drugs for her anyway, it was
about the atmosphere. So she politely
refused the lines of MDMA, the speed, the PCB, the E. She danced anyway, touching her stomach and
feeling the rhythm on the outside repeated inside. I got a ravey baby she thought. The social wanted her to say who the father
was, fuck it she hardly knew herself and certainly wasn’t going to go looking
for him, I mean he was a good fuck but happy families was for people in little
boxes going doolally on TVs and microwaves.
She wanted to get her shoes off, feel the mud in her toes, get some
henna done, pierce her tongue. She took
a bus down to Wales and stayed with a mate at Tally Valley for a bit, planting
vegetables and meditating. It was nice,
but it was boring. But she was getting
tired. She had Peanut as well, who is the most gorgeous bitch in the world,
but still needs two good walks a day or she’s impossible, and fuck knows what
she gets fed on site but the last time she was sick she had to shell out from
her savings for the vet’s bill.
The she met Ray. He
was quiet. He just got on with his
business, making stuff, doing up little stools to sell at the festivals, fixing
things. He was a lot older than her, had
grey bristles in his beard, and wrinkled old eyes, with a lot of kindness in
them. He knew about nature, I mean
really knew about it, the names of the creatures and the plants, what they did,
when they seeded, all that stuff. It was
like discovering an ancient code that had always been there, buried in plain
sight. She started reading him her poems
and he didn’t laugh, or give ridiculous praise neither. He actually told her what he thought. She started to notice he was smiling at her,
just watching her when she was cooking up the veggie slop. He looked after himself too, he was in better
shape than a lot of the site lads, and he knew when enough was enough.
They needed a few bodies up at Big Bog Farm for the hay
harvest, which they did by hand in the old fashioned way, with scythes. When it was all in there was a little
gathering up at the top of the hill, and it was a full moon night as well. A touch of magic in the air I suppose. She found herself sitting on her own with
him, talking about astrology (which he thought was bollocks), free will, how to
tell a tree by its bark, the difference between punks, hippies and crusties,
how to make a horn from the stripped bark of a willow. At some point she slipped her arm around his
waist, just naturally, and he felt it there, brought her head to his
shoulder. Then she stepped away, walked
forward, put herself between him and the moon.
Smiled. Span. Laughed.
Almost fell over. Started a jokey
striptease, which took ages because she had so many layers on, but when it got
to her vest, it all went quiet, and she gently lifted it over her shoulders and
let it drop to the ground. Her eyes said
something beyond the world, beyond the moon.
He took his hat off, not knowing exactly why. Cherish me, she said. Honour me.
Be with me.
He picked up her things, joined her arm, and followed down
that winding path, the glistening moonlit dew, to her van, where she pulled an
old mattress out (carefully, so as not to wake Peanut), and they took it out to
the edge of the meadow, lay down and fucked with the rabbits.
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