Cut, Jenny, Dancing with Wolves and Bob

‘There’s something in a glass jar in the fridge’ says Miles. ‘You’ll know what it’s for’.
I do, it’s a cake.

‘Coffee and cake, Jenny?’ I ask from behind the bar. She is the first to arrive as usual.
‘I’m so glad I found out there was music on tonight. I thought I’d be having a dark night. I do love music’, she said, before adding her theme tune, this time of year:
‘Is it going to snow?’
She sit’s and brings out of her Rolling Stone’s bag, her magazine of Suduko and quietly works away. Unnoticed she brings her cup and plate back to the bar.

Jack (Pescod) and Hanna came to the Cut to perform their music. Mesmerising, meditative, unusual, capturing of a soul. My thoughts turn as they do to Bob. A restless night in the box room of a bedroom in my Bung, I gave up, and watched ‘Dancing with Wolves’, a classic that I’d not watched before. Came out in 1990, I was in Norfolk, just after my mother died, and so just before Bob. It was the moment the jubilant frontier soldiers shot the wolf that was the heart wrencher. The wild wolf that was following John Dunbar, now captured by his own kin, chained, and incapable of stopping the senseless slaughter, symbolic as to what would happen later to he Siox Indians. Oh us humans! And the same continues in Aleppo.

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