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Light in the wheat fields…

Submitted by on July 22, 2017 – 9:19 amNo Comment

Corn_field_rave

Sirens screamed through the darkness, the monotonous synthesised drum beat, lovingly created on an ARP 2600 or the Korg MS 20 or a MiniMoog, pounded silence into abolition. The police sirens were encroaching on the field of love, drugs, dance and music.

The taxi dropped us off at a random crossroads and sped away. We couldn’t see, darkness in the countryside is dark. But we could hear. We walked towards what we thought was the direction of the pulsating music, shaking our very souls. We walked around in circles.

Rescued by a skinny girl squatting down peeing in a ditch, shouting, ‘What the fuck you looking at?” To be honest I thought she was a giant Badger. And I was peering to see if my Badger notion was correct.

“Fuck off you fucking pervs”, the skinny peeing girl screamed at us. “You having a shit?” someone said. Standing up and rearranging her attire, she replied, “No, I’m not fucking having a shit, you fucking pervs, I was fucking pissing”. She was a lovely girl as it turned out, from Blackley. She guided us to the field.

How the fuck we missed this field of hundreds of dancing, twirling masses of youth, God only knows. A Ford Transit van had huge speakers balanced on its roof and the DJ and decks were on a table amidst mud, grass, shrubs and overlooked by a beautiful oak tree. I recognised the leaves, even in my pill-popped drunken stupor.

This was my first ‘rave’. My mate made a call, we jumped in a taxi and met the skinny pissing girl and here we were. The sirens closing in. I was handed a can of something that I assumed was alcoholic, but it could have been the piss of the pissing skinny girl. I didn’t give a shit, I drank it and swallowed love and happiness.

I/we were all consumed by sound, and people and night and beat. My stomach vibrated to the bass, my mind spun to the song and my mouth silently sang, ‘What a wonderful world this could be’. My legs, arms and body moving in a way that I thought was dancing. It didn’t matter, no one cared, this was freedom.

We were packed together, moving methodically, rhythmically and in a great mass of human flesh. If you were stood still you’d be moving by the movement of those around you. As I danced a young woman on my left suddenly grabbed me and snogged me for what felt like an hour. She then pushed me away and carried on dancing. Then the bloke on my right grabbed me and started snogging me, I pushed him away. A little confused because I was more aroused by the bloke snogging me than the young women. And I could tell he was aroused.

I’d been snogged by a young woman, a bloke, I just needed to be snogged by a giant Badger and my evening would have been perfect.

But it wasn’t a giant Badger that grabbed me next, it was a giant copper. The fuckers had arrived in my snogging extravaganza and begun an onslaught of battering love, gentleness and open air dancing. We managed to escape the brutalisers, flooding onto the country roads and surrounding wheat fields. We huddled up to each other, waiting for light.

We saw the skinny pissing girl, she came and sat with us. “There’s a train station nearby”, she told us. We walked there in the dawn light.

I’d lost my jacket, my mate had lost one of his trainers and Billy from Clayton had lost his trousers. He walked from Victoria Station to Clayton in his underpants. It always puzzled me how he lost his trousers but still had his shoes.

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