Flodigarry

written o4/2009

Our most popular song, so far, takes things back to 2006, when Mrll and I went for a two -week trip to the UK (Scotland + England) with friends from our Armia forum. Our eightsome were led by Kacper, who is thus namechecked in the song, and had a string of kaleidoscopic experiences ranging from the serene (a picnic at Glen Coe) through the breath(and life)-taking (the Crazy Pinnacles) to the heart-tearing (a visit at then newly departed Syd Barrett’s house).

The most memorable day for me was, though, a Sunday on the Isle of Skye where I had to hitch-hike from our Flodigarry hostel to the only Catholic Church on the island (Portree) and back. Miraculously I made it just in time for the Holy Mass (hence Portree’s bread in the lyrics), and then had a dessert of a somewhat lay epiphany on the way back under the uncharacteristic clear skies and amidst the pastures and cattle grids. Then I did catch a lift and the driver was a German lady long settled on Skye – we discussed the subtleties of Polish and German Christianity with the raw Scottish landscape surrounding our blessed conversation ominously. Good hitch-hike talk.

Back there at the hostel I learned that my friends had gone treading the lovely flat hills looming at the back. I heard some undistinctive shouting form behind – Kacper singing fragments of The Wall to the audience of sheep, apparently. I had nothing else to do but get overwhelmed  by the sweet hills beyond the  bay, standing blurred and proud under the Northern sky. I tried to sing softly bits and pieces of earlier Soundrops material to see how it relates to the landscape. It was a rare moment of no worrying and conscious tasting the happiness oozing from all around. A perfect balance of here/now and them/there, both in the near rear perspective of the flat hills and the more remote of Poland.

And then the internal links among the eight of us grew less tight, as you can hear about in the coda. But that’s not irreversible and we might as well grow stronger again. The Sunday means much more than any Friday later.

hugs,

gero

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