The displacement of one’s true self after your home has been removed, or destroyed, is an odd, light feeling.
I packed up my life, kicked the struts out from under it, and it collapsed as i ran away with my hands over my ears. The pieces floated to earth, were blown far and wide. The force of the blast also scattered the family at the beating heart of Bow. And now we are cast adrift in a sea of doubt and uncertainty.
Tonight I return to the scene of my former life to sift through the debris. We plan our attack at 2200 hours. Tomorrow we hand over the keys. On Thursday we return, with backup.
Wish Us Luck.
Showing posts with label squat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label squat. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Friday, 11 June 2010
No Fate But What We Make
There has been a seismic shift somewhere. A pebble has become dislodged, throwing huge rock faces into freefall. Tectonic plates are grinding, groaning as they move towards new destinies. The way the dice will fall is completely uncertain.
After lots of talk, most of it typed and hurriedly read between getting on with our real lives, we have been told that the leaving date still stands. 'Proceed' is the message from the top. Get out. So this leaves us in a bit of a jam. We have a factory full of stuff, a gleaming factory i might add, and 9 people with no where to go. And that's just our place. Including the other warehouses there is a total of 23 people being displaced. All with mountains of stuff strewn across the massive spaces we have gotten so used to calling home.
We have 15 days until that date. And in between now and then we have a small matter of Glastonbury festival to contend with. Some of us are building and running venues. Others are project managing areas. All of us are going. And working on many other projects in between. It's masochistic in its ridiculousness. No one is making steps to move just yet - as we have nowhere to go. It's almost hilarious. Except that it's not.
I am frozen by the immensity of all we have to do. I should set to and start packing, except that I can't. The urgency still isn't there. Why? Maybe it will take a gang of shadowy, suited figures to be looming. There remains a small part of me that suspects it will come to nothing. Will it even seem real when we are lifting boxes? Will it take glimpsing another security firm wandering around the yard, sitting on our decks-chairs, to fully absorb the loss of our home of three years?
After lots of talk, most of it typed and hurriedly read between getting on with our real lives, we have been told that the leaving date still stands. 'Proceed' is the message from the top. Get out. So this leaves us in a bit of a jam. We have a factory full of stuff, a gleaming factory i might add, and 9 people with no where to go. And that's just our place. Including the other warehouses there is a total of 23 people being displaced. All with mountains of stuff strewn across the massive spaces we have gotten so used to calling home.
We have 15 days until that date. And in between now and then we have a small matter of Glastonbury festival to contend with. Some of us are building and running venues. Others are project managing areas. All of us are going. And working on many other projects in between. It's masochistic in its ridiculousness. No one is making steps to move just yet - as we have nowhere to go. It's almost hilarious. Except that it's not.
I am frozen by the immensity of all we have to do. I should set to and start packing, except that I can't. The urgency still isn't there. Why? Maybe it will take a gang of shadowy, suited figures to be looming. There remains a small part of me that suspects it will come to nothing. Will it even seem real when we are lifting boxes? Will it take glimpsing another security firm wandering around the yard, sitting on our decks-chairs, to fully absorb the loss of our home of three years?
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
The End Of Our Home Is Nigh...
OK. So we discovered last Monday that the building we call home, the Sugar Factory which has been pimped beyond recognition and houses a deviant and incessant repertoire of rolling parties, has been repossessed by the eminently popular and rabid maintainer of morals and business sense that is the Royal Bank Of Scotland.
A couple of cronies came round, handed my housemate a thick wadge of typed declarations, asked him who, what, why, where, when and were promptly thrown out after a flat refusal by said mate to tell them anything. It was conducted very courteously by both parties fortunately - the last thing they want to do is alienate us and force us into a Section 6 situation.
So this throws us into rather a puzzling quandary.
The economy's fucked, so no one will be doing any developing anytime soon. And RBS will have the same needs as our former landlords regarding building protection...won't they? Fricking hope so or it's all over kids, it's ALL over.
A couple of cronies came round, handed my housemate a thick wadge of typed declarations, asked him who, what, why, where, when and were promptly thrown out after a flat refusal by said mate to tell them anything. It was conducted very courteously by both parties fortunately - the last thing they want to do is alienate us and force us into a Section 6 situation.
So this throws us into rather a puzzling quandary.
The economy's fucked, so no one will be doing any developing anytime soon. And RBS will have the same needs as our former landlords regarding building protection...won't they? Fricking hope so or it's all over kids, it's ALL over.
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