The battlecry of millions of late 20th century/early 21st century suburbanites, Soft Cell’s “Frustration” is one example of how underrated the band is, largely known for its cover of that Northern Soul classic “Tainted Love”. Their other claim of fame of course being one of a whole wave of “gay” (electro)pop bands that broke in eighties Britain: Bronski Beat, Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, Communards, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Culture Club undsoweiter. It’s strange how that suddenly happened; you can’t really say England was gay friendly at the time, can you?
This song just popped up on my playlist and I thought I’d share it, as it so perfectly sums up some of my feelings at the moment.
Half a year. Six months. Twentysix weeks. It feels like forever; it also feels like yesterday that Sandra died. It’s just not something I can get used to: it still feels like she should be there, she’s just gone out of the room for a bit. Every day I want to call her on my lunch break, every time when I watch a tv show or listen to a radio programme we used to follow together I want to ask her what she thinks about it, every time I read a book that I think she would like, I want to tell her she shouldn’t read it, as she hated having books recommended to her.
The weekends are the worst; during the week work can be busy enough that I don’t really think about her, but in the weekends there’s too much time and space for the memories and grief to come back. It’s not so much that I spent my weekends staring and sighing, more that literally everything in the house and garden reminds me of Sand. Worse, even the local supermarket makes me think of her as I try to remember her advice on cooking and such. Pathetic, I know.
What I also miss is the structure in my life, a goal. Living alone after having spent the better part of a decade living together with somebody you love deeply is so different from just living on your own. When you’re a couple you live for each other as much as for yourself, at least if you it properly, but now what do I have: my job? My hobbies? The cats? All very nice, for sure, but it doesn’t fill my life like Sandra did. And that’s what I miss the most, having somebody there who makes you feel like what Ella sings about and who you can do the same to.
Today we did the touristy thing, going around some of the places Sandra loved in Plymouth: the Elizabethan house and garden in the Barbican, the Aquarium, having a cream tea in one of the tearooms. Then I went and showed my parents around where she used to live, all around the not so touristy bits of Mannamead.
I took a shedload of pictures, but the barebones linux system on the minilaptop I’ve got with me can’t really do much with them, so I’ll put them up when I’m back home.