Taooftash - The Tao in June, writing the bloody thing.

As our friend Richard commented last night, there has been a definite change in the Tao since May, he likened it to John Peel's excellent autobiography (Margrave of the Marshes), I feel I will not give too much away by pointing out that Mr Peel died three quarters of the way through writing the book and the final quarter is written by his wife. I have tried several times in the last week to write an update, but am in the middle of so much crap that I just don't think you'd want to hear it so will tell you how we used to write the Tao.

The Tao was my idea, I presented it to Tash as a way of keeping all of you in touch with what was happening to Tash during Chemo. We had learnt during the "great phone around of February 2004", the six week period when many of you got a call from one of us to tell you the ying yang news of the returned cancer and our idiosyncratic response, to get married, that repeating the same information over and over redirected far too much of the strength we needed for each other out to looking after you guys. If I haven't told you before, I trained as an artist (look around this page, like you hadn't noticed), more importantly, I use a lot of creative thought and this solution to the problem seemed the best to look after Tash's needs. I am having trouble with the I, me, we thing at the moment. There is no we anymore, yet I am loath to let it go, largely because I like to create with someone, either another art bod or as I mentioned in the last post a non art bod that inspires me, a muse, like Tash and from the get go, the Tao was to be a joint effort. Hold that thought for a bit, read the next paragraph and then see if you agree.

Writing the Tao.

Every month at some point I would get the laptop out, sit on the sofa and start asking Tash what we had got up to in the last 4 weeks, "we did this", "we did that", sometimes the story would come easy, irrespective of good or bad, Chemo, Radio or operations could all provide a rich source of story telling and then only a couple of occurrences, the T4 spinal tumor of December 2006 and the early months of this year were to be soo traumatic that there was no story because quite simply there were no words at that point to describe what was happening to us. The good times were always easy to make something out of, though as you might of noticed, the funny bits usually derive from things I observed on the way to and from places - I have deliberately used the singular here as, and I have been trying to not think about this too much, one of the things I shall miss most about Tash is that she went though life always believing herself to be absolutely and completely indefatigably correct about every thing (it's a known fact, she would finally scream at me in an argument as a last ditch attempt to prove her point) often ignoring every thing around her that might have suggested the error of her ways. I'll give you an example, we were at Sydney's Tarronga zoo, maybe in 2000, 2002, sometime then, after walking up the bloody hill the place is built on and seeing the giraffes of course, lunch beckoned and we queued for a wildlife burger or whatever they were calling their fast food at the time, took it and sat down at the far side of their open air cafeteria. Tash as always when we were eating took the seat that faced out towards the eating area, the good view, and I got to look at the wood paneling on the wall. I also got a good view of the green space next to us and the fucking enormous sign immediately behind her (if it had had lights it would not have been lees obvious). Some cockatoos see our food and start to make their way over and Tash got very excited, leans over gives them bits of food, talks to them (a Hayes family trait) and gives me that look (the filthy, what the hell do you think you are doing talking to me like that, can't you see I am doing something important look) when I gently suggested to her that she should stop feeding them. I asked again again, got the same look, how dare I disturb her communion with "the little cocky's, hello little cocky". I sat back and more forcefully told her to bloody well sit up and have a look behind her. The sign, a good one meter by 3 meters said quite clearly that under no circumstances should you feed the birds (or "rats with feet" as she confidently described a pigeon as this year, "umm no dear that is a rat, I think you meant rats with wings"). "Happy now" I concluded before we burst out laughing.

So once there was a story, or two to three as there often was, I would link them together and write it up including some reference to Tash's treatments and then ask her to read it. Then wait.... and wait ....and wait... sometime up to a week before I would eventually get a bit pissed and say, "just go and read the bloody thing will you and remember what I said last month".

What I said last month and the month before that and the month before that, in fact for every Tao posting for the last eighteen months is "please remember that I have written this and just don't go in, sit there and when asked fling your arms up and exclaim "it's just shit" because that doesn't help me identify what it is about my lovingly prepared monthly opus that you have decided to take offence at. It could be the tone, the negative undercurrent of some of my phrases (a big issue that she mostly won, hence the comment a lot of you have made, but it all seemed ok on the Tao) or as it mostly turned out to be, a spelling mistake in the first line or some such minor blemish. But sure enough month after month we would go through the same routine and every month I would ask her not to have a tanty, but to understand that this would be a lot smoother if she just did some of the things I would ask of her. Eventually an hour after the arm throwing we would both calm down and I would say "well you bloody well write it yourself then" at which point she would stamp off into the study sit down at the computer and actually read what I had written, make some changes, that's right COMPROMISE and then make accusations about my bad grammar before I would read it again and make some more corrections to preserve the word flow before posting. Tash then gave it a final once over and once I had the ok nod it would get put up on the internet for you all to read.

Usually two days after that, she would casually tell me that there were a lot of spelling errors in the text.

So now I am in the flow, I can tell you how I am doing, not very well this week I have to report. I am currently typing this in a Swanage beach side cafe, after breaking myself and then having to flee London to recuperate. The last month has panned out thus, the first week back was spent generally sorting myself out, crying a lot and writing the Tao and crying some more. The second and third weeks were spent processing the flat, something that is still going on, and in particular Tash's stuff. Some of you have already been shown the Tash Clothes archive and I may post it here later, but then again I may not. There was a definite need for me to find a language so I could start to tackle her stuff, I trust that none of you are thinking that language is only something that foreigners speak are you; to do this I needed a language, a narrative and a direction. The direction is apparent already, it is the 22nd July when I move out and my desire to have all my affairs in the UK sorted out so I have the freedom to go where I please, the narrative is Tash's story and you have seen bits of this already in both the Tao, the London Celebration and the Jack'n' Chop night in a fortnight. The Language was tricky, but more out of necessity as I had already started to photograph her shoes for ebay, the answer was presented to me. So for the middle two weeks all her clothing items have been photographed, making the Tash Clothes Archive, currently the galleries are out there for her friends to peruse and select from. This was a good thing to do as now I have a copy of these unique things it is ok for me to let them go. Tash will live on in my head, not in my cupboards. Note: The kitchen was the center of our life, that is coming with me, so please don't imagine that there is some slash and burn effort happening.

Though this sounds quite easy and straight forward, it took time and a lot of effort and pushing of myself, Lesley and Jason came up last weekend and helped complete the task in record time which thankfully was nice. Come Monday and instead of resting as I should have I looked into the Will and Probate and BANG! (equally if you are a fan of the original Batman TV series I will allow the use of "SOCK!" "BIFF!" and "Ka-Pow!" here) The low level but constant stress of the last two weeks met the high power pinpoint stress of dealing with solicitors, I am not going to tell you here what it was that made me realise that I had to stop and leave town, because though it is funny, this is still a family blog. Suffice to say in previous weeks there have been occasional incidents that have shown me the true state of my mind set, I have issued a "you wanker" hand sign at a fully blacked out stretched Hummer, not a good move late at night in east London and only last week tried to pick a fight in the roughest pub I have ever been in (since I lived in Basingstoke, which means I should have known better, but this is my point) and this was worse. So I have finally managed to break myself. To be fair there is a bit more to this, the tube station opposite us is being demolished and so for six days a week I have been woken up at seven by the sound of steam hammers, that is if the bright sunshine streaming through the curtains (seems to be stronger this year) hasn't already woken me from my slumber, failing that the worst year of hayfever I can remember will have interrupted my sleep by four am anyway. My REM sleep pattern is from four to six, so I have become pretty wired.... and stressed ....and upset ....and unpacked (in all senses of the word) but at least I remind myself, I don't smell..... ohh yes Tuesday night.

It is fair to say that I have been very much in the care of our London friends of late and they have been great. However they all work and I am pleased that it is them and not me, because as good as I have felt (current situation not excepted), I recognise that I would not be able to hold down a job at the moment. Being in the flat on my own is ok and this surprises me as I did not always like being away from her. I don't miss Tash so much because I understand the reasons for which she left, but do talk to her a great deal and can report that we have been getting on very well of late (that is a bereavement joke!). Things do get moved and stuff falls off shelves a lot which I don't read too much into, but then again my best conversations are currently with thin air. In the month I have been back I have thought that I have seen many people that I have known, going out the house at one point was almost like physically walking down through my memory, I can see why you would say "I can see dead people". Oddly when I do leave the house and do not find my self in an M.Night Shyamalan film I am always asked for directions. The general consensus amongst our friends is that I am not your normal approachable person, but I keep getting all the lost people. One wonders if this is not some wonderful ethereal joke, that there will be a heaven and Tash will poke me in the arm and say "what about all those people I sent to check on you, you know the ones who would ask you for directions", ohh them..........

As a footnote. I am back in London now and am about to post, but before that I am going to ask something of you, particularly the Londoners. I am missing Tash too, not her physical form, but as herself and have found myself during the times I am out in greater company ignoring the usual high quality boy chat that I have always been associated with (cars, porn and stories that make no sense) in favour on eaves dropping on the girls; Tash is very much on your lips still and I find that I am following her through your conversations like Tinkerbell on the wind. So I am going to 'fess up, if we are out and you are talking about her, pull me over to listen, it fills me with a forgotten warmth and helps a great deal.

-o0o-

July 9th is Natasha's birthday and though I do not intended to carry on arranging get together's in her honour much after this, this day for us in London always had a party attached to it and I think it will be beneficial for all of us world wide if we work together to celebrate this day for this year, so I suggest the following; - Including update for Sydney gathering

The explanation is simple, as we have heard in the memories that people have been kind enough to share with us in recent weeks, the younger Australian Tash had a strange attraction to the occasional cold lamb chop, similarly, as those of us who had seen the modern Tash in full flow will know, Jack Daniel's and Coke was the drink of choice when she was tripping the light fantastic.

As we know many people who don't drink and some, like me, that don't eat meat, but as far as I know, no one who neither doesn't drink nor eat meat, this combination sounds the most inclusive.

I am going to ask you to take pictures of your J'n'C escapade as I will display them all so we can all be together to celebrate her one last time, I know the girls in Australia are already arranging to meet up and we will be taking over Jamies on Bishopsgate in London - inside or outside dependant on the great British Weather and from 5pm - Bring your own chop - If you missed the Friday Celebration, come along and say hi, we won't be hard to miss, just seek out the biggest group wearing purple.

A message from Belinda for you Jack 'n' Choping Sydney siders:

A low key pub gathering has been organised so please pass on these details to anyone who would like to attend. Its just a rock up kind of situation. There is a pub bistro which has a large selection of meat and vego dishes. (Sorry no lamb chops... for some reason this doesn't appear on any pub menus that I investigated).

Warren View Hotel
2 Stanmore Road (Corner of Enmore Road)
Enmore
from 6.30 (but feel free to come at any time that suits you)
Wednesday 9th of July

I have her mobile number if you need it, best not to post these things so openly on the internet.

Approved drinks:
Jack Daniel's and Coke (you can drink another Bourbon, but you will be expected to take the piss out of your choice, as she would have done)
Gin and Tonic - Tanqueray (export or 10) preferred, Bombay Afire if not, but not Gordons.
Champagne - Rose is better than white, Laurent Perrier Rose or Billecart Salmon over any thing else if you have the money.
Prosecco -The drink of (Italian) champions.
White wine - Any Planeta (that's a vineyard in Sicily), any Gavi (that's a grape from northern Italy), but not a Sauvignon blanc or a Soave.
Red Wine - Any full bodied Australian red will do, as will an Italian (particularly Planeta again, or a really good Valpolicella, Barolo or Amarone), to be honest she was always happy with any northern Italian wine especially if it was from near to Verona, but no French or South African I am afraid.

Non alcoholic Option: Bottlegreen's (yes that is what the company is called) Ginger & Lemongrass cordial, available at most UK supermarkets - for our international chums, some flexibility is accepted.

Approved food:
A Lamb chop, hot or cold. Maybe even a pork chop. The traditional cooking method is grilling, though BBQ'd or marinated is ok too.

Vegetarian option:
Get yourself another drink, there is no real substitute for chops.

Music:
Inxs of course, but if you must you could sneak a Libertines or Babyshambles song in, just don't let me hear it.

blank

<< Australia without Tash -o0o- The Jack'n'Chops days >>

blank