martin ivison >>
white male, blue eyes, brown hair
82 kg, 181cm
with two children
a scattered family >>
a former life in music >>
a fondness for alphabet soup >>
and continuing aspirations

20111118, White Sands, NM

"Last night I had a long walk through some of the more desolate parts of the city, along the river Aire. Much of Leeds has been bombed during the war, and there are few trees, few old buildings, and much ugly redevelopment of the 60s through to now. Nowadays it's replete with lofts and yuppie hangouts around the river. I crossed some industrial wasteland into a low middle-class neighbourhood on the other side of the river, all of it strangely without people. It was miraculously empty, just as if England was in the world cup final, or a virus had wiped out humanity. I chanced upon a massive, decaying church, but it was surrounded by razor wire on high walls and fences, so I couldn't get in. I walked around the area, and was puzzled to find that it was secured like a prison, with triple fences and wire, but that it had basketball courts inside. On the far side I found out that it was a school called Mount St Mary's, a former monastery and orphanage (when I check the website later, the photos suggested a perfectly normal school, no sight of the razor wire). I walked on and chanced upon another church that had a sign outside announcing a 'Battle of the Organs', but no sound. I open the door and was immediately dragged in by an old lady, who put a program in my hand, and navigated my around the naves to a seat. So I sat among the seniors for an evening of battling church organs and organists, playing fairly softly, albeit beautifully in the dry church acoustics."
(from Journal, 20100610)

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