Spending a weekend with strangers, in a room I am very very familiar with. Scene of many of the highs and lows of Climate Camp, the process that is still, years after it died (and even more years after it died for me). A place where I learnt a lot about hope, optimism, invisible power and its abuse, facipulation and sheep-like behaviour, what I am good at, what I am not good at… the list goes on. More anon.
* an echo of a lyric from one of the best songs of all time, butchered by Jimmy Barnes on Monday night. Why couldn’t he have let Ian Moss sing it, eh?
