'The Whole of the Moon'

There were no pictures on Google featuring these particular words, so I made one myself (click to see the whole thing!) From one of the best songs ever made: lyrics that have comforted me since I was a kid. There are many theories as to who or what this song is about, and it means different things to everyone who loves it. I first heard it when I was about 13, and spending lots of time on my own (sometimes content in solitude, sometimes not). Occasionally, I felt ashamed that I did not spend as much time in the company of my peers as others of my age seemed to.

This song helped me see that it's great to be active, and surround yourself with people (if those actions are meaningful, and the people are kind and good, and healthy for you), but that it is also okay to spend time alone, and to be introspective and reflective. Introspection is often associated with loneliness, and it's true that too much of it can take you to a lonely place. But you can also learn many things this way, not just about yourself, but about the whole world and everything in it! ('every precious dream and vision underneath the stars!') Self-awareness, empathy and insight are rare gems. They make for the best art; they create CONNECTIONS; they make the world a less alienating place. Let them glitter and flourish.

I'll sign off with what just might be the most magical video on YouTube: Mike Scott and Vinnie Kilduff playing 'The Whole of the Moon' for an audience of schoolchildren in Connemara, Ireland, 1987.

'Dulce Ahumado Vaina'

‘‘Dulce… Dulce Ahumado Vaina,’ this one’s called,’ says Matthew. ‘You know, for simplicity's sake.’

            The label, etched in monochrome by a local artist, bears a sturdy vanilla pod, held like a cigarette between painted lips. Jessica unscrews the lid. A sweet, humid smell pools into the air around her. It is the smell of her mother, before Jo. It is the smell of Matthew’s fingers on the beach, when he leant over and painted a neat strip of tanning oil on her nose. And something else, much further back. A sicklier odour, with the same mingling top-notes:

Corinne, four months pregnant and still nubile on the floor of the girls’ changing rooms at secondary school. ‘Impulse’ body spray – the yellow one - cloys with the smoke hanging limply under the skylight. Corinne cackles as she takes her cigarette between her toes; angles her leg high to take a drag. Jessica stares in muted fascination as a tiny yellow thong disappears between stubbly, razor-burnt labia.

‘You looking at my cunt, cunt?’

She wasn’t. Well, not really. She was looking at the thong; imagining the thin material snaking its way up into Corinne’s stomach, and winding around her baby’s tiny, frog-spawn throat. Billie, it was to be called. After Billie Piper. Didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl: Billie either way. If Billie died early on, thought Jessica, maybe Corinne wouldn’t bleed as much as her mother had.

‘It’s tobacco. And vanilla. Like the Tom Ford,’ says Jessica presently, turning the bottle over in her hands.

‘There’s nothing on the back. No list, or… ingredients.’

Matthew saunters. Hands on her waist.

‘Ingredients? Well, no, my pleb. You’re in darkest Bohemia.’

Jessica lolls against him: indignant, delighted. Matthew, with all the confidence and radiance of immense privilege. He smirks lots. Too much. He is downright filthy. But his eyes are clever and warm. It is love.
He consults his phone drunkenly, chin on her shoulder: Pedro Ximénez. Fortuna.

‘Here we are. Dulce Ahumado Vaina. Translation: sweet... well, I knew that. Sweet, smoky little pod.’

He looks at her. ‘Little pod. Just like you. Pea-pod. Cardamom. Vanilla.’

‘I’m not a pod,’ says Jessica. 
Jo and Billie. They had been peas. Seeds.

‘Well, anyway,' says Matthew. ‘I’m buying it. Te amo, etcetera.’

For a week, the scent takes on new shape and depth. It changes. It mingles with their skin, with carotene and sea salt. With week two comes the morning sickness. Vomit, bile, ‘Dulce Ahumado Vaina,’glass, Matthew’s cigarettes - all but one – straight down the sink.