Saturday, 7 June 2014
The house move is complete and Summer is acumen in your hair, so I thought it was about time for a quick update. Not here of course (yet), but there is something brewing over at Acid Mist. So click over to the right and enjoy the bucolic sounds of a decaying post-nuclear holocaust society denuded of people and civilisation as we know it, relying only on the scraps of teachings passed down through the collective cultural mind!
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Sunday, 9 March 2014
Many years ago when I started this blog, I developed a Spotify playlist in parallel with it to send me off to pleasant dreamy lands or to softly caress my ears whilst sitting on the 95 bus to town in the rain, feeling a bit sick. It was for my ears only, and no-one elses! Then yesterday, I thought; 'Why don't I share this playlist with all of 110 followers of this blog, the folk who read for the daily updates and little nuggets I post daily, every day?' So here it is. There's the advert for donuts with Johnny Cash ("You can get a free signed photo of good old Horace Logan!"), Ken Nordine talking to aliens ("Women? Well, heh, they're very precious to us"), lots of soundtracks, library music and other delights besides. Plus a really awful poem read in a very boring way. See if you can find it. And 'Hovercraft' by Brian Bennett, which is the music I intend to have at my hovercraft-themed funeral. As an aside, sorry about the vast delays between posting, I've just decided to do other things. Soon I'll be moving house to a far off part of Sheffield which means I'll probably have much more time to do online things and indulge my hobbies (such as watching Jeremy Brett in Supernatural's 'Mr. Nightingale' over and over again) so perhaps I'll be around more. I'm sure I will. And Tom, if you are reading this, 'Mr. Nightingale' is the best piece of old telly ever, especially the scene with the fish. Remember the fish. Speak to you all soon!
Thursday, 31 October 2013
I found this chap reclining by the roadside yesterday. He said he had to be somewhere. I asked him where and a small carrot fell out of his mouth. I waited for a while and asked him again. He bent down, put the carrot back into his mouth and stared at me. I thought better of asking him again, so I said goodbye. As I turned to leave he asked me if I'd got a new bulb for the hallway light. I asked him how he knew we needed one, me and the wife. He said he'd done a lot of jobs in his time and could help me out. He flexed his bicep, making the leeks crack and the spring onions squeak. I said, no you're alright, we can manage. I smiled and walked off. As I walked off I heard him say 'We?' and then he laughed. Honest.
Thursday, 1 August 2013
It's Summer - and here at between channels we like to spend most of the available holiday daylight in the pub! I recently purchased a batch of photographs which contained these three shots: three different pubs, all of them varying shades of beige, filtered through a honeyed fog of sunlight, Embassy smoke and the vapour that comes off old men's clothes when they start to get warm. So join with me and celebrate that refuge of the pale and bibulous - the British Public House! Incidentally, two of these pictures show how easy it is to leave things behind in the pub, although the striped canvas bag could be an explosive device left on purpose.