Rob writes – 31st May 1995

Hope you haven’t been overdosing on all that ‘feeling’ I was trying to put down in my letter! 

I’m at work now – 3.05 pm on Saturday 13th May. I can look out of my window, and see the blue skies and the sun shining on the trees, which partially hide a few houses of Anchorage Road housing estate. The portacabin I work in though is cold – it’s in the shade of a two-storey building right next to it. 

I’ll no doubt write you more factual things next time. – like the Queers pulling out of their UK tour; seeing Offspring at Brixton Academy – going up in a chauffeur-driven transit (!) with Carl Barry, Dareen, Ashley, Rob Turne, Chrissy and a few other people; going to the Bradford 1-in-12 club last weekend with Rich, Paul J, Hohn Hartsteen, Q. Rob, Matt from Romsey, Andy from Bournemouth, Karen, Vikki and three Winchester guys; or maybe even a few words about how the band is going – we’ve got nearly five songs now and the enthusiasm everyone shows towards it is amazing! 

Did I tell you I usually get to Australia every day now – every time I write my diary up of the holiday – everything’s so clear – I made loads of notes which I’m slowly writing up – it’s gonna be an absolutely huge account!
Love
Rob

30th Jan 2024 – I wonder what Rob wrote in his diary? I didn’t remember about Rob keeping a diary but I know Rich ‘The Encyclopedia’ kept one fairly religiously. I was always curious about what he wrote!

Surf’s Up With Shaun – 1st May 1995

Originally printed in the May edition of the STE Bulletin

Sat on a train station in the middle of nowhere, with the sun beaming down from a beautiful blue cloudless (+ ozone-less) sky. What better place to sit + philosophise in these moments spent waiting for the train.

For those who are interested + I know some of you are, Bronwyn + I got ourselves married on March 5th, a beautiful ceremony amongst some of our beautiful friends (we only wished that more of you could come over to share the experience with us because we miss you all greatly).

It was so cool to have an English ambassador over, that’s Mr Rob Callen (of S.T.E. fame) with all the news + gossip we’ve been missing out on since we left. We had several great lengthy discussions, just like we hadn’t seen each other for a week or so + needed to catch up (+ we caught up pretty quickly thankfully, as time was short – time is always too short when you stop + think about it).

Rob coped really well with all the people that he had to meet + this is something that I’d like to comment on. A lot of my new friends + relations have mentioned to Bronwyn just how well I’m coping with this glut of new people. I guess it could be an overwhelming experience for some people + easy to hide away in your own little world + think that it would be easier to deal with it later + then hope the time never comes.

Now I have to say that I’ve met lots of people here, whose ideas + politics do not correspond to mine + probably the main area of possible contention is with religious ideals. A lot of people I have met (now friends + relations) are involved in their churches in one way or another + are in themselves, deeply religious. I guess this is where things have been easier for me, in that no one is preaching or attempting to convert me. This has meant that there has been no contention to speak of, despite the possibility of it. This has led me to understand that people, even people that I don’t agree with, are basically human.

For instance, while Rob was over here, we found several things that we didn’t agree on. Does this mean that I should shun him + refuse to have him as a friend? How narrow my view of the world would become – missing out on all those great ideas (no matter how ludicrous!). So why should I shun a person, a human being, for their beliefs + ideas, even if they weren’t already a friend to me – that possibility will always exist if I choose to keep my mind open. After all, I have a voice + if someone starts to become overbearing, I can ask them to stop or change the subject.

I have a friend here who I met through college. He’s Dutch, 74 + lived through the Second World War. One of the first things he told me, while explaining Australian politics to me, was that he is, what we in England would call a Tory supporter. If I’d cut off our friendship there because I disagreed with his political persuasion, I would never have heard how he survived tuberculosis in a concentration camp + how he sought to escape to England.

These stories + indeed any story you are told, are tales of life + are learning experiences. All information is learning + by purposely cutting your possibilities of information (by rejecting people for their beliefs), you are losing your will to understand + also run the risk of becoming close-minded.

OK, so what about the fascist Nazi, who beats you up in the street for looking like a ‘black loving queer’? It’s not easy to accept this point of view but step back + see the human underneath, see his weakness + find something in that person that you do not hate.

Hate is the most powerful negative emotion a person can feel + hating in return, is not going to find any real long-term solution. Put down your prejudice (including your CRASS + RUDIMENTARY PENI LPs) + open up your mind.

Just remember it’s OK to disagree but it’s wrong to hate. Hatred achieves nothing except the continuance of hatred – something I’m sure we would all like to see an end to.

Finally, some surf news to justify the column title. A cyclone hit Australia while Rob was here, the east just catching the tail end of it. This meant rain, rain + more rain – Rob only saw about 4 sunny days (it’s still warm enough for shorts + a t-shirt though) but this also led to 15-foot waves + some awesome though violent surf (which tragically drowned a man too). During the quiet moments, Rob got out there on the board and caught a few waves, Which I’m sure he’ll be telling you all about.

OK, gotta go, my train’s here – write y’all to x Alanna St, Terrigal, NSW 22xx, Australia.

(In his accompanying letter, Shaun felt certain that some people wouldn’t agree with his view, I know I (Rich) don’t share all his points + to this end, he positively encourages a reply!!)

31st Jan 2024 – I remember this walk to TAFE to study every morning, after catching the train from Gosford. I particularly remember walking behind a pretty girl that I was, one, too shy to talk to and two, still happily in love with Bronwyn. She looked like how imagined an Italian girl to look and her dark black hair was tinted to the red shone when the bright hit it. Strange the little details one remembers. I wonder what life that girl ended up having. I hope she’s happy somewhere.

Rob writes – 1st April 1995

Hi there!

I’ve just gone round Chrissy’s to show her the photos – yeah, they’ve come out and are pretty cool! (Although one whole film didn’t come out – bad news man!) 

Amanda’s going to a party today, so was really restless and punched and jumped on me all the time! And Rebecca’s gonna have her picture taken today – professionally done.

I’m gonna get a few photo albums to chuck the pictures in so I can show everybody. I’ll send you some over when I get the chance. 

My writing routine which I set myself is already shot away but I’m gonna try harder next week. Sorry for writing just about anything – there’s so many distractions – 5 minutes to scribble this rubbish, then off to Southampton post office to post this. They don’t close til 5 o’clock so thank goodness for that, otherwise you’d never get anything from me.

See you when I come over again (whenever that is!?)
Love
Rob

30th Jan 2024 – Even a slow news day was appreciated in those pre-internet times.

Me and you – 10th March 1995

For us both, this room was all that existed. The only things outside were the stars and the soft night air that twitched the golden curtains soundlessly.

Our whole world was here and in those slumbering hours before daylight, the world outside had no meaning.

The candle flickered gently, pulsing shadows to the ceiling and door. My half-opened eye registered the few drips of wax that ran the candle’s length to rest in a hardened pool on the cupboard. It felt like much time had passed though it seemed not to be passing at all. The candle flickered again.

The sweet smell of her hair caught my nose and my love appeared to me as a ghost suddenly there. Until that moment we were as one – I had not moved to feel her presence – perhaps she did not exist for those moments. And now I felt her with my whole body and soul. I felt my long arm wrapped around her, across her chest, our hands joined gently by her face. Her long smooth back rigid against my chest and stomach.

I softly kissed her neck, not with passion or haste – the tender kiss an angel deserves while resting in my wrap. Our legs parallel down the length of the bed, her feet resting on mine. I push my toe into the arch of her foot – every touch to her skin a thrill to my heart.

Ella is still singing out quietly from the speakers and I doze back to sleep to those luscious tones.

Later, minutes, maybe hours, I see the candle again – not much melted – time is not in our new world. My love stirs and moonlight catches her cheek, pale and phosphorous – the dim air explodes with stars. She turns to me and comfy’s herself to my body. Her warmth and glowing rising from her legs, through her torso, into our chest to share ’til the end of time. I kiss her forehead with the force of a feather resting on the breeze. My lips buzz spectacularly.

Rob writes – 1st March 1995

Hey, more writing space! 

I went round Jon and Selina’s a few days ago to pick up the PA that Jon used for Thirst! They’re moving to a house just behind the Jackpot cafe, where Selina works in Portswood. I think it’s next week actually. 

Basically, Dave’s been a bit of a jerk sometimes (well, only when he gets drunk to be honest) – especially with bands staying at their place. There’s been occasions which I won’t bother to go into, where Selina’s been fuming and then so pissed off with everything, and Rich said he’s not going over there again until Dave leaves and sorts himself out. 

He just gets lonely sometimes I guess, and frustrated – well, he did throw a bottle at me down the Crown and Sceptre last week – I just stormed off….

Well, that’s all the scandal for now – apart from Selina having her hair cut shoulder length.
See ya
Rob

30th Jan 2024 – Dave was always ok when I met him but seemed to be a sad, bad drunk. Sadly he didn’t manage to sort himself out and I believe he committed suicide sometime in the next couple of years.

A story of obsession – 7th February 1995

The beginning.

Dan pulled a chair up to the window, sat down for the thousandth time and stared straight ahead, at the building directly across. The window was old fashioned, long, with an inside ledge it was possible to sit on. The window overlooked a large part of the town but not quite to the harbour.

Dan got up, cursing, knowing he’d forgotten something. He returned after a quick run downstairs to the kitchen and sat back down and cracked open his beer. He took a long slurp and made the noise of a thirst quenched, burped loudly and proudly and sat the beer on the chest of drawers next to him. With a swift motion of his arm, he picked up the binoculars, untangled the leather carrying strap and put them up to his eyes.

He felt. like he was some general on a hill surveying the battlefield below. As he looked around he read out instructions in his head, “mortar, no. 19 hill street.” He focused on that area with the binoculars and imagined it blowing up, killing the innocent family inside. “That’ll teach those bastards,” he thought, “for not accepting my quote.” “There’s a man walking his dog in the woods, I can see ya, you goddamn spy,” suddenly the woods were aflame with napalm and the man was dead in Dan’s eyes.

As the sun faded from the sky and grey clouds moved over the light began to fail. This was the time Dan liked best. Now the explosions of bombs were far more exciting and they lit up the night sky for brief moments like lightning flashes from a wild and vivid thunderstorm. Of course, as soon as he put the binoculars down everything was normal, but Dan enjoyed these couple of hours of using his imagination. Sometimes, though not very often, he would miss some TV to do this. Dan got most of his ideas from the tube. Tonight he got bored quite quickly and stopped his observations when he’d finished his second beer. He went downstairs feeling slightly disappointed, grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat down in his chair to watch TV for the rest of the night. Kelly knew not to say anything to him.

Kelly went into the kitchen wishing she had someone to talk to. She turned on the radio, it seemed like her only friend on nights Iike this. Sometimes the cheerful songs picked her up but tonight they had the opposite effect. She sensed Dan’s mood and kept the volume down, this simple little restriction frustrating her more. She felt like she was tip-toeing through a mine field. She pulled a chilled bottle of sweet white wine from the fridge and poured herself another glass. She could feel herself getting slowly drunk already.

Kelly looked through the kitchen window into the blackness of the night, pondering her situation for the thousandth time. She still loved Dan a hell of a lot despite the way he treated her. She did feel a barrier between them and wished for something to bring them together. She walked back through to the living room and sat down adjacent to Dan in front of the TV. She set the bottle of wine down beside her, now half empty and warming up. It was her only cure.

They barely passed polite conversation about the usual run of soaps but when it came to the news Dan became very vociferous in his opinions. He spoke in a tone that denied reply. Though he sat quietly through the images of war beamed into their living room from around the world he haboured a desire to be there. Not a secret desire either. Kelly would nod and agree with everything Dan said not wishing to cause any friction. It was easier that Dan’s opinion was her opinion and she ended up believing it.

Time passed slowly, Kelly now on her third bottle of wine. She was feeling very drunk despite her system being used to the intake. It wasn’t a happy drunk but morose and sombre, a blanking out of desire and feelings.

When they went to bed they slept in foetal positions, Kelly tucked up behind Dan, holding on. Alcohol assured them instant lapse into unconsciousness.

When day dawned the sun shone across the city. Dan woke alone, Kelly already in the kitchen making breakfast. He sat up and yawned then got up and stretched shaking off the night. He walked towards the window, moved in front of the chair and looked out like he was a god surveying his creation. Suddenly aware of his nakedness he backed away and pulled on some shorts returning for one more shot of sunshine glory he saw a figure in a window a couple of streets away. In the brief moment that he was looking he could tell it was a woman’s figure. He wondered if she might’ve seen him naked at the window and wasn’t sure whether to blush or be proud. He quickly forgot about the incident but did make a mental note to look there that evening.

Dan turned and picked up the empty beer cans and dropped them into the waste. He went downstairs where he could hear and smell cooking going on. As he entered the kitchen they exchanged pleasantries, the sun bringing out a subconscious optimism in them both. For the first time in a while, Dan noticed how pretty Kelly looked, the sun illuminating her hair like a halo, as it streamed in through the kitchen window. He made the effort to pass comment on this, which brought a big smile to Kelly’s face. Just that one simple comment made her feel a whole lot better about herself.

Dan kissed Kelly on the cheek as he left, feeling rejuvenated, feeling like something good was going to happen to them. Kelly too felt a whole lot better and decided to spend a few hours walking in the park, thinking of ways of improving her relationship with Dan.

Dan was a painter and decorator by profession, he wasn’t a particularly good one but there was enough work to keep them going. It paid the bills and paid the mortgage and gave them a roof over their heads. That morning he was painting the hallway of some middle-class suburban house, not too dissimilar to their own. His mind wasn’t on his work, he was thinking about his wife and his future. He decided that he would take some flowers home that evening, foregoing his usual lunchtime drinks in the pub. He did still feel some attachment to his wife despite the loss of their baby.

Characters:
The married couple
The spied couple

Character one. The married man. Dan.

Dark, broody, well built, slightly unbalanced (have to demonstrate this in some way) macho but developing toward feminism i.e., not a total asshole, short hair not meticulous in appearance though can be when trying, enjoys rough things like slight interest in guns and knives, patriotic, believes what the papers say, hard-working, painter and decorator (enjoys his ability to go into other people houses, feels like spying), age 28, likes packet food or traditional food, interested in more extravagant food, kind of scared of trying new things, hobbies, not much, though did enjoy making rabbit hutch for sister’s son, has to be asked to do things like that, not much get up and go, a lot of time spent watching tv and videos, enjoys suspense thrillers, gets a kick out of people being frightened by a killer etc in a film.

Character two. The married woman. Ke11y.

Rather quiet, not opinionated though would like to be sometimes, overwhelmed by Dan’s loudness sometimes, medium height and build, dark. hair, pretty on occasion though bland otherwise, average dress though well dressed when going out, only goes out with Dan, most friends are mutual though Dan takes control most of the time (could possibly introduce one of their friends into the story too), she likes to drink fairly often more so than Dan, she likes to keep Dan happy, she had a distraught childhood, parents divorcing, stepdad nasty, somewhat insecure, she is presently unemployed.

Their situation.

Got married after she found she was pregnant but lost baby soon afterwards, he has held it against her secretly, he promises to start a family but keeps her hanging on cos he doesn’t actually want to at all, in some ways he feels trapped, he wanted to get married for the child’s sake and now would prefer to be single again, they bought a house in a residential area, on a slight hill, overlooking other houses but some wooded areas close by, he always wanted his own home so is quite happy with that, though not wealthy they can afford to live comfortably.

3rd Apr 2021 – I’m guessing I wrote this sometime in early 1995. I think I had some more ideas about where this story might go but obviously never got back to it. Dan and Kelly are lightly based on a couple that Bronwyn and I lived with. Even though this part of the story ends quite upbeat it still feels really dark to me – I know it wasn’t going to end happily and it brings back immediate visions of English streets for me.

Surf’s Up With Shaun – 1st February 1995

What is punk rock? Is it a way of acting or behaving? Is it about music? Or politics? Is it anything to do with THE SEX PISTOLS? Ог CRASS? Is it nihilistic or cynical? Optimistic, introverted or extroverted? Is it far-reaching + powerful? Small + exclusive? What do you think?

Well, when you live in the middle of a rainforest + the only rock around is sticking out of the earth, you start to think about these things. The answer is – it’s all punk rock, innit!

Cos I was sat on the beach trying to get my skin as bronzed as the surfies in the noonday sun (of course this isn’t true because if you have got any brains, you’ve got to cover up from the sun, or stick on your sun factor 15 but a lot of people don’t bother with this until a limb or two has to get cut off, so tell your kids OK!).

Well, I was on the beach checking out the surf (you see in Australia, the water is actually warm enough to go + swim in but you do have to watch out for sharks!) + watching the pelicans flying overhead + I was thinking “Man, this isn’t very punk rock is it?” and then I got to thinking “what is punk rock?” then pretty soon, I thought “Fuck it, let’s go for a swim”.

After that I went to the cafe + contemplated a bit more + I thought all the scantily dressed girls on the beach must be frustrated, cos all the surfies are interested in catching is waves. I checked out the surfies and hell, I saw me a couple of PANTERA t-shirts, a NIRVANA t-shirt and an OFFSPRING one too, so punk rock does exist here at the beach! I talked to one dude but gave up pretty soon, cos he’d never heard of MINOR THREAT, even though he skates!

Of course, this got me back to thinking about what punk rock is + I began to realise that, hey, it’s OK if that dude doesn’t know who Minor Threat is – he’s OK. I later found out he was well into conservation and abhorred racism, which is pretty punk rock for a sixteen-year-old surfie.

Sometimes, it takes me an age to realise the obvious and that I should have listened a bit harder when my best friend said “It’s all punk rock innit!?” So all you folks back in England can be satisfied that rock is alive + well on the other side of the globe + hey, they’ve even got bands here too + some are pretty good but man, it’s difficult to get away from the beach to get to see them sometimes!