Marxism 2011 part one

As with most things in life there is the good, the bad and the ugly and so it is true too of the SWP's annual event 'Marxism'.

It's like our Christmas, we see old friends and comrades and chat to one another like we've never been apart, we meet new people, get fresh ideas, laugh, cry and dance ( usually at the end in the after party). This year's Marxism was held for the first time in about twenty or so years in a different venue and due to the disability I have ( I get disorientated in new places quickly and it's bad, worse in my case than for most people I reckon) I was worried. A local friend and comrade offered to help with the practicalities as much as he could, something I was grateful for; and it did work for a time while I was up there, but not all the time.

Another problem I have is that sitting for long periods of time in meetings causes me quite a bit of discomfort, so this year I had that to contend with too.

I did meet up with some old friends and familiar faces and had a couple of great quality conversations, although the chats seemed to come around to the subject of art, but that was great as art is one of my favourite subjects anyway. I had a great convo about mental health with a very nice and understanding young man who was also a fellow sufferer.

The venue was split over two sites, Friends meeting house and a nearby university. I was fine at Friends meeting house as I already new it, but there weren't many people around to talk to in between meetings and there were no debates, or few, but none that I was able to participate in anyway.

The university to me was a nightmare, which I thought it would be, I could not make head nor tail of where I was going, it was all very strange and I felt very lost there, I saw one person I knew; a man from my Welsh days, he was pushing a pram around with his young son in, and was as equally confused as I was as to what was happening and where everything and everybody was.

Eventually I found the canteen and recognised a few faces although no-one looking particularly friendly, again it was boring as there were no interesting debates, plus the food was appalling and expensive, when a canteen hand cleared my table and asked if the food was alright, I left that question unanswered. I heard of one poor comrade who actually got food poisoning, poor thing.

So I thought I would give up trying to fathom the university and waited for my friend to arrive from Kent, but he was severely delayed, so I sat in the rose garden in front of Friends meeting house. There were comrades milling around, some I knew and recognised and some I didn't, but I felt isolated and excluded, probably on account of the relegated membership I endure which means I am not attached to any branch. It felt even more acute as I had been friends with a local Kent comrade for a while up until a few months ago when ... ( well it's a fairly long story that I won't go into), but I saw her on the train going up and she walked past me and then hurried on ahead.

So, do you get the picture? Marxism changed this year. I went up for only two days, the Saturday and Sunday, and only went to one meeting on the Sunday before returning home feeling all sorts of things, but one feeling I had that Sunday night in my flat was that today's SWP sadly felt no longer like a home.

And its something I intend to explore in this blog over the coming weeks.