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Lyrics: “Try This At Home” ~ Frank Turner, 2009

For a while I thought I would want to and should write a long post and share my many many thoughts about what seems to come to light regarding the alleged practice one of the most successful German bands lead singer to recruit female fans for sex at gigs. Then I realized that I should not spend much more time and thought on this horribly nasty business than I already have. I’m tempted to, but I know it’s not good for my mental health, so I’ll try to keep this short-ish.

First of all: I stand in solidarity with every girl / woman who has shared their version of unwanted attention, harassment or worse at any gig of any band. My first impulse will always be to believe them for the obvious reason: Despite internet trolls and others screaming “they’re just doing it for fame”: these women have much more to loose by speaking out than not. There is a reason why the majority of sexual harassment, abuse and violence perpetrated by men against women isn’t reported and why even less lead to criminal charges and only an insignificant amount of those cases lead to a conviction. Look it up, if you doubt it.

The other reason for me to believe them in this particular case: I could have easily be one of them. Not in regards to this band, because I despise them with a passion for many other reasons. But if for instance in the 1990s one of the Roxette crew would have invited teenage me and other fans to an after-show party: I probably would have gone. If in the last decade any of Frank Turner’s crew would have invited me and other fans to an after-show party: I would have gone. And at this party I would have expected to be treated with some basic decency. Like I try to treat everyone I met as well. I don’t want live in a world where this expectation is considered naive, because in the particular case of music gigs it’s considered a know fact that it’s “sex, drugs & rock’n’roll, baby”. Or let me rephrase that: If whatever happens at an after-show party happens with consent, fine. If those fans want to do drugs and have sex with the lead singer of a rock’n’roll band, good for them. Though I still think there always is a huge power imbalance between an artist and a fan. And if the big huge famous artist were a decent human being, I’d expect them to make extra sure that everything happens with consent. And that starts with their choice of drinks, drugs and everything else.

But speaking for myself: if a younger me had ever got stuck in an uncomfortable situation with any artist I fangirl over, I’m not sure I would have found the courage and mental state to remove myself from that situation at the time. And I’m not even talking only about sexual advances; there are so many other ways to make someone uncomfortable. I’ve talked about these current allegations with a woman my age, whom I don’t know that well (yet) and she was adamant that she always would have left that situation easily. But I’m not so sure about 20-something me. Even 48-years old me sometimes has a hard time standing up for herself in much less dangerous situations. And that’s why I stand with every girl/woman who might not have the strength to say no at the right moment. If they even had a chance to say no at all.

I’ll spare you the further debris of thoughts and emotions this has brought up for me: less about the allegations and all, more about the fact that I sometimes still have such a hard time to stand up for myself in all kinds of situations. But also thoughts about how to shake off the misogynistic views I notice in myself and which I don’t like about myself. It’s so easy to blame this society I was raised in, but now that I notice them, it’s up to me to work against them, right? This post also is an attempt at that.

To end this rather morose post on a more relaxing note: here is another photo from the way down Stac Pollaidh last week:

And now I’ll go back to reading easy-to-digest contemporary romance and/or WWII romance set on Scottish Isles to fill my mind with happier thoughts.

Lyrics: “Worse Things Happen At Sea ~ Frank Turner, 2007

I’ve been back home for about 48 hours and admit that I have a bit of a struggle to not spiralling down by some spell of self-doubt, anxiety and such. Deep breath. I’ve got three more days at home to find my happy or at least content state again. I’m glad to know by now that this too shall pass.

I very much enjoyed my last day in Scotland (on Sunday), taking the car back to Inverness, spending some time in the sun in the city, taking it easy. The trip down south on the sleeper train? Well, let’s say I didn’t sleep much. Or at all it to be honest. I can’t really blame the train or anything, it just turns out that I’m just not made for sleeping in a narrow bunk in a moving vehicle. But I guess I had to try it to find that out, so I don’t regret my choice to use the Caledonian Sleeper. The whole experience also sadly drove home the fact, that I’m not in my 20s anymore. I didn’t stay up for over 24 hours often back then, but I seem to remember that it felt easier. It might be a faulty memory, but I don’t recall ever having been so out of it as I was on Monday while I was sitting in the terrace cafe at the British Library and wait for the fingers on the clock to move to 12, so I could check into my hotel.

There I managed to catch about 3 hours of sleep, which helped to get me to a conscious state so I could enjoy Operation Mincemeat once more. I’m not going to do another review, don’t worry. But it’s been interesting to be able to catch more and more of the many mindblowing details of this show. Characters I had not consciously registered being on stage during certain numbers, because I was so mesmerized by the main action.

Lyrics: “Zombie” ~ The Cranberries, 1994

It’s June already. How did this happen? Don’t answer that. I’m having a lovely, relaxing time here in remote Scotland and will be sad when it’s over on Sunday. But needs must and all that. The lovely, relaxing time is also why I a) haven’t shared many photos or experiences yet and b) will keep this post shorter than it could be. [Thoug it did take longer than I had thought] I need to go back to the relaxing and chilling, but also reading and thinking. “Stolen Focus” again. So so many things from this book hit home for me. Seriously, everyone should read it. Because of it, I’m trying my best at the moment to pay attention where and how long and how I spend my time online. But I’ve also started noticing how often I try to add some kind of “noise” (music, TV) to any activity, because it feels strange to just focus on actually focusing on one thing. Except reading. And how often I fill my life with stimulants of any kind – not chemical – but to keep my mind distracted, because being with just my own thoughts can be scary. I know the reason for that though, because the anxious part of my brain tends to ruminate (as in endlessly worry about past and future stuff) instead of helpful mind-wandering. I’m working on that. Anyway, that’s the short insight in the state of my mind.

Wednesday, 31st May

I drove up to Loch Assynt and took a gazillion photos at Ardvreck Castle. One of my favourite places since I stopped here with the group tour I was on in 2009. It’s a popular spot to stop for anyone so there were quite a few people around. But I can’t complain, because so was I obviously. In the spirit of “more focus” I popped the prime lens on my camera, so I had to think a bit more about what to take a photo of and couldn’t just zoom in. Afterwards I continued the loop up to Lochinver where I dined in a restaurant (fancy!), before braving the “Wee Mad road” back to my home for the week. Sadly my camera’s battery had run out of juice so there I couldn’t take to many photos towards the end.

Thursday, 1st June

The day I did what I (potentially) came here to do. Hike up a mountain. Well, the Scottish call everything a hill, whereas it felt mountainous to me and officially it classifies as a mountain: Stac Pollaidh (612 m) ridge and circuit. It’s only a 4km route, but from start (car park) to the east summit were about 430 m of elevation. I tried to work out the gradient, but I failed. So be it.

I mentioned it on my socials yesterday already: Even though my physical shape isn’t what it used to be a few years ago, when I was hiking up proper Scottish Munros, I managed this one alright. It just took some time. But I was in no hurry and I’m so glad that the critical voice in my head didn’t berate me for it in any way. Yes there were a lot of people of all ages, teenagers, children and dogs going up that hill quicker than I did. But so what? While the nasty voice also tried to make me think of what all of those might think about me slowly walking and scrambling up and down, the sane voice in my head told me that none of them cared! I had lovely small talk with each and also heard nice encouragement from those fit people who were on their way down from the ridge as in “you’re almost there” and such. So all was fine! Thank God, so was my mental state as well.

Half way up the hill the clouds slowly disappeared and the sun came out. It was good thing, I took my time then…

Yes, the lighter sand-coloured bit in the image below was in fact the path down. Not for the faint-hearted. It speaks for my worried (or maybe reasonable mind) that I had put the mobile phone numbers of my next of kin and the hosts here in Scotland on my phone’s lockscreen for this day. And also on a slip of paper in my wallet, because what good is a smashed phone if I take a tumble down that slope? But I made it down fine, slowly, but I did it. Go me!