I arrive, blown in with the gale and more than half a bucket of leaves, and proceed to look around for a familiar face. I spot Jo and James sharing a table on the other side of the bar. Vince sits on the next table, all concerned unaware of the proximity of fellow stoners (small stone writers) . I go over and introductions are made. Chat is of others who share our daily writings… and books and films and occupations and wolves and toads and pond life and other such diverse topics. All is to the soundtrack of JC and Angelina with their often foot-tapping tunes – they are accompanied by a whisk-wielding, wash board-playing, suspender-wearing (according to Jo) musician who adds a slightly bizarre touch to the evening.
As we end this year of stones, of sharing our souls with virtual friends, it feels good to cement these links closer to home in the ‘real’ world. Yet… the sharing of our meeting with everyone on this vast planet – shrunken to the blink of an eye, the touch of a button, changes the celebration and makes it a symbol for here. This special place.
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