29th Feb 2024 – Sometimes I made an effort to try and fit in. I really did. This would also have been prompted by the fact that lots of girls went ice skating too. The reason I wouldn’t have enjoyed this is that I was too cool for school and making a fool of myself was a no-no. It would take me a long, long while to lighten up.
12th Mar 2025 – It’s weird that I only have a memory of the feeling of this event. I have no idea where this happened. I can’t think of any ice rinks at all but I’m guessing it was in Poole or Bournemouth (maybe Ferndown?)
Diary entry: Last (Atrox) gig in Southampton. Went really well.
12th Feb 2021 – A Thursday night, no less. Not being too familiar with Southampton after having only been there a couple of times, we often got misdirected by the locals, whether by accident or folks not appreciating these scruffy young punks in their city.
We did establish many lifelong friendships from these times though. The West Indian Club was a magical place (in my mind now) though I had no real idea of the workings of organising shows or even understanding how sound was mixed in a live situation. I just stood on the stage and shouted as loud as I could and hoped I could be heard. Folks seemed to enjoy it, either way.
Rising free, phoenix from the ashes The earth suck, wave crashes Scream and shout to let it out The birth fuck, the earth suck Illegitimate child, element of doubt
Momma shatters glass with her ferocious voice Dad went crazy and gave her no choice He flew off the handle and smacked her in the face Then she disappeared, vanished with a trace
She left the kids behind to face the fist Dad had another drink, he was getting pissed Through alcoholic eyes, he saw all his hate This was his last chance before it was too late
He’s hurting his kids Through alcoholic mists Shows them his love With his feet and fists
Kids are so scared to tell the truth They know the problems of their father’s youth Now he takes it out any way he can Cos he can still hear the cries of his friends in Vietnam
He burns his children with no feeling of regret The visions of death in war haven’t left him yet So he turned to drink to try and ease the pain But those memories have never left his brain
He’s hurting his kids Through alcoholic mists Shows them his love With his feet and fists
No one can help him, can see past those eyes He can still hear echoes of dying soldiers cries No one can help the kids, just another child that dies They can still hear Momma’s shattering cries
Now the kids are dead The evil has been rid They locked their daddy up For the evil that he did
Belgarion smother my painted dreams Open door into the patient’s screams Smoke rising from the chimney of your destruction Running riot through the holocaust of corruption Belgarion haunts the putrid air Quietly creaking on the hollow stair Singing sweetly of the life he gives No questions asked, Belgarion lives
18th Sept 2023 – My mum must have had copies of the David Eddings books from the Belgariad series around, though I don’t recall ever reading them. I did read her Thomas Covenant books though. I was quite proud of myself to have read through those as there were six super thick books.
18th Dec 2022 – Merley Bird Gardens was exactly as its name. There was a courtyard outside the entrance building and I probably came at the invitation of our local youth club leader (guitarist in the band), looking for new things to do and perhaps even meeting new people. I don’t know where the rest of the audience came from. I still didn’t really understand how things around me worked but I do remember there being lots of pretty and exotic-looking girls here though I was still retarded by my ego and shyness, an ugly punk with a bad attitude constantly smoking rollups until they tasted like cabbage. Needless to say, I didn’t talk to anyone but enjoyed trying this ‘new thing’, though for the last time.
