The washing up should have been the clue, the fact that the sink was always filled with dirty water and crockery. Anarchy would never be a viable political system when they couldn’t keep a shared house clean. Anna could have pulled things from this swamp to clear a route to the plug, drained the water, and done the washing-up herself, but she hated being the only one to make the effort. Maybe this was why the arseholes remained in charge – because the nice people were lazy.

She was relieved to find a grubby mug at the back of the cupboard, saving her from dredging the sink. Anna was the first one up, and there were people sleeping on the lounge sofas. Barry had been there for a while, but she didn’t know who the other one was, doesn’t recognise the sleeping bag.

For the first time in weeks, Anna had woken up feeling fresh. There are only a few clouds, red tinged, but it was hard to believe the proverb, that it wouldn’t be a beautiful day. She thought back to other early mornings, sitting outside raves, beats in the distance, watching the sunrise, so very sure that the world was going to change. She’d thought the raves, the outdoor parties, would grow until they challenged the political parties, brought them to their knees.

She’d checked for milk before putting the kettle on, but when Anna took the carton from the fridge, she found it empty. Someone had put it back in the fridge rather than replace it or tell anyone.

All they wanted was a world where everyone was equal, where everyone could live their own life. Was that so bad? Now, looking at the kitchen, she couldn't help thinking it was. If her friends had their way, the whole country would end up like this. You could stay up all night talking about revolution, but you still needed someone to tidy up.

She went back to the bedroom, where Alex was sleeping. He woke up as she put her boots on. “Where are you going?”

Anna had been going to get milk, but found herself saying, “Home.”

“This is home,” said Alex

He sat up, rooted round on the floor for a recent pair of y-fronts. But Anna had already reached the door and was on her way.

Background

This is another South Downs Way story - there’s a lot I want to write about rave music and the second summer of love.

I've been enjoying Joseph Matheny's book Ong's Hat Compleat, which describes how he came to invent the first alternate reality game. It's a fascinating account with Matheny describing his inspirations in detail - Burroughs and the cut-up, mail art, John Dee and more.

Matheny returns a few times to the question of what a book is. He built an oracular piece of software through tagging texts with metadata - with all these texts being hand-typed into his database. He could then generate a bespoke book on any topic that he had stored there.

The question of what a book is got me thinking about the South Downs Way stories that I've been working on. These stories are all linked, part of a greater piece. I’ve not been thinking of what I’m doing as a ‘book’ as the structure is so complicated, but it’s time to start producing some indexes to make the structure more apparent. Hopefully, I will have an initial website up in March.

Recommendations

Peakrill Press are currently running a kickstarter for Nice Weather for Fish, a role-playing adventure set “in a slightly sideways version of England’s Peak District, circa 999AD”, written by Dan Sumption.

I’m not someone who role-plays, but I like some of the resources for these games as works of literature. Dan launched Peakrill with the booklet Mostly Harmless Meetings. This described 100 forest encounters, many of them strange or whimsical. It was intended as a spice a game-master could add to an adventure. To me, it read like a Borgesian catalogue of strange moments (with dice rolls added).

I’m excited about Nice Weather for Fish, even though I don’t role-play. A well-written supplement is something like a meta-story, the story mechanics and alternative plots all laid open at the same time. Role-playing scenarios are a literary genre all of their own, and I think they deserves more consideration.

I have a strange relationship with role-playing games. I find them fascinating in theory, but find the actual role-playing-with-people thing a little cringey. I spent my university days around too many earnest gamers, who’d describe their imaginary adventures in detail as background for one mildly funny thing that had happened. It didn’t feel like fun.

Table-top role-playing is currently going through a renaissance, and there are some fascinating ideas emerging. The gaming world’s avant-garde seems more interesting than the current literary avant-garde.