I'll post this in the Arran thread, where it will sit chronologically.
But for those who will only ever see this thread, this is how Limey and I remembered Claudette.
Bri always said she wanted to come to Arran. We promised eachother we would go together, in summer, and sate ourselves on history until it was time to stuff ourselves stupid on locally sourced food.
So Limey and I had to at least visit some standing stones to say our farewell.
The weather was grim. Not pouring with rain, but constant and chilly and enough to make it feel like a pilgrimage, not a stroll in the park. Perfect. I did not just want to leave flowers by the side of the road, I wanted something that Claudette-alive would have participated in, or at least appareciated.
Limey read the poems posted on the Cellar. With expression and sensitivity.
I'm not sure I could have got through them.
I had a speech all planned. Lots of refs to poems. But in the grey morning it occurred to me that the person I could have pointed them out to, the person who would have laughed at my temerity, was dead. So I settled on only two.
As I poured a libation of vodka on Bri's pebbles I referenced a line from Louis MacNeice's Snow.
"I peel and portion a tangerine and spit the pips and feel the drunkenness of things being various."
And as we left I remarked to Limey that there is now a part of Arran that at least in my memory will be forever American.
I sang through a closed throat.
Crowded House (of course).
How Will You Go.
In this youtube clip ignore the second track.
Claudette's stones.
More in the Arran thread later.
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