Yum yum yum – life’s here for eating up. Not that I’d lost any faith in people but had I done so it would’ve been restored by last night’s events. Well, start at the beginning somewhere.
Last night was another trip up to the Joiners and this time we took John and Sarah and some records to sell. John was in particularly enthusiastic mood – jeez, that guy is enthusiastic about everything! Well, I was in a bouncing mood tonight that’s for sure and found it difficult to stand behind my records for long periods so hell, I didn’t.
The atmosphere reminded me of Green Day’s gig there a couple of years back. Everyone was happy and everything was cool. The Thirst single was here for sale too – great job Tony has done and a fine tribute to Steve. Chrissy was in cheerful mood too along with Selena etc and me in charge of photo opportunity (dropping it while pissing!).
Thirst played a great set and are coming on really well and I gave them not too much stick! Wow! There was lots of pissed French punks here too – where did they come from!? (France! – ha!) The Harries played of set of Ramones style riffing – fun but unexciting. Everyone was happy though – it was that kinds bouncy music. Much chat and record sales (!) later, Rhythm Collision played a reasonable set of hardcore tunes, the guitarist later buying a Lemonheads LP from me and then us having a way cool conversation, me telling him about Broni and our love affair and plans for Oz. He knows Greg from Spiral Objective in Adelaide too which was cool coincidence. This dude was way cool anyway which is what I’m trying to relate, ok.
Eventually we got away and home at 1.15am and all today I feel proud to be a part of such good, honest fun things that friends across continents can organise for each other and it really feels like one big family with all sorts of diverse influences and anything goes and respect comes first. Today I love life and remember where I am in this world.
A fine interruption in my writing last night, that’s why the above seems a tad unfinished. It’s been a wonderful weekend. At last, I’ve been able to relax a bit and on sunny Sunday (yesterday) rode down to the beach and round Poole and watched videos and messed about and did this and that. My beautiful Broni flakes near midnight but I wouldn’t come to bed – eager to sort out more poems for the next issue of the booklet and this morning my sweet was in such a beautiful foul mood it made us both laugh and I carried on laughing at work till, bloody hell, things start piling up for me too and I’m saying, ‘Ah fuck it, what do I care?’ (in my head at least). And here I am now writing this.
Much to write about once again. Finally finished reading The Vanity of Dulouz. Such a great read – beautifully written. Besides all that and the usual run ins at work (I really have had enough!) we, fucking hell, got my visa! And celebrated at the Mandarin! Took my mum out for a meal next night too! No wonder we have no money!
Anyways, trekked up to Newport for the wonderful Trumans Water (they get better the more I think about them!), no bass player but some didgeridoo instead! Broni was very tired though and it was very loud so she wasn’t so impressed – maybe next time we see them.
Things are still a blur to me now. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything for longer than a few minutes. It took me three sittings just to write one letter to old pal Joe in Boston. I started to write bits and pieces here and there too, at work and at home but I never seem to get stuck into it for long enough. I’m all tensed up right now and feel ready to explode.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s trip to Newport and Thursday’s day off work. We went window shopping for laptop computers and camcorders on the weekend which was fun, and round to Rosemary’s on Sunday afternoon and played with Jade, her beautiful granddaughter. ‘Come on’ she says and ‘wee wee’ quite a lot too. We watched her fall asleep as she ran and leapt and dozed in snores within seconds of being wide-eyed.
Kerry’s dad passed away on Saturday night but Kerry and mum seem to be coping okay so far – a relief in some ways after many weeks of suffering.
I’m a bit down really, fed up with work and biting back at my baby at home. I don’t feel much in control of myself sometimes. I know all this so why don’t I do something about it! Hmph. Did much more in these five days but am unable to continue right now. Bye bye.
A fine horse, proud of his rich trappings, met an ass on the highway. The ass was heavily laden and moved slowly out of the way.
“I can hardly resist kicking you, you stupid animal!” said the horse in a tone of great scorn. The ass held his peace and made only a silent prayer to the gods.
Not long afterwards, the horse became lame and was sent by his owner to the farm where the ass lived. The ass, seeing him drawing a dung cart, felt sorry for the horse, who in the days of his splendour had lost the friendship of one who could have helped him in bad times.
Revenge. Resist revenge. What goes around comes around.
The ass and the grasshopper.
An ass, hearing some grasshoppers chirping, fell in love with their voices. He wanted more than anything to be able to sing as well as they did, and so he asked the grasshoppers what kind of food they lived on to give them such beautiful voices. They replied, ‘The dew.’
The ass decided that he would live only on dew until he could sing as sweetly as a grasshopper. In a short time, he had died of hunger.
One man’s meat is another man’s poison.
Want, wanting – learn, practice patience. Remember: What goes around comes around.
It’s all a blur of frenzied activity but here’s the gist. Stocktake over and it’s a glorious sunny day. I get drunk and talk to lady next door while Broni is off talking jumpers and work with Rosemary (getting good possible offers of work). I’m asleep drunk, tired and sun-scorched. Broni returns and we, with John, opt for Indian fool and blues music but we flake it early on and it’s back to dreamtime.
Next glorious sunny day and it’s down to Bournemouth and the record fair to see our friends Barry and Gary, being their usual fun selves. Happy and laughing we came out richer in pocket and in heart. Checked out the beach half searching for cynical Rich in his sandwich board. Back home to our sunny backyard before mad motorway dash once again to watch grown men run around with a football for 90 minutes. This being Steve’s memorial football match. Me, I’m grumpy but enjoyed talking to Chrissy and Karl Barry. Soon home again via mothers and back into bed.
Early morning rise and straight to the beach for early morning coffee (I actually pack for parcels of records before we leave – up very early today). In search of decent food, we spend a fortune at Safeways and proceed to drink away the day in the backyard, with brief excursions into football and kite flying with John and Sarah and Morbaina (this cool Zimbabwean dude). On into the night and we barbecue with our new roommate Simon and we drink and drink. Phew!
Up at five next morning to get Broni on the bus to London and then into work – I’m really pissed off and run off a series of poems before I start to feel very ill and decide to come home. I talked to Broni and tell her I miss her (very much). Hightail highway again, this time to go see Rollins Band in Portsmouth with all the crew. Tony buying beer and Selena not drinking?! Dig play and impress, Rollin’s music doesn’t impress but his presence is awesome. Not totally overawed though!
On return to Eastleigh, me and Rob fight sleep and talk about life and its people till three or so. Rich and Rob go off to work and I read magazines and play records to my aching heart’s content.
Broni rings and seems happy and I hope to see her later in London. I go off to Chrissy’s and try to keep Amanda busy – she is in a particular spoiled brat mood – dear girl. Rebecca is a beauty though! Ah! Chrissy feeds me and I must dash off to collect Rob for another roadbuster to mighty city to see old pals Victims Family. I talked my goddamn head off in the fat London traffic while Rob directs. Soon there inside gig we sell poetry to eager punters and watch Victims Family plough through their last set of their tour. I talked to Ralph for a while, he says they hope to get to Australia someday. I also meet that old dude Rob from Corby and chat before we exit during Grotus’ set.
On the streets, everyone’s celebrating Arsenal’s European victory and I ring Broni at Piers’ and organise a quick visit. Down the road, we enter this huge house and into Piers’ cool yuppie type flat, adorned with great obscure works of art. Broni is a bit self-conscious but that’s okay – soon on again then and coffeed up we drive any old ways out of town. Twice awake and half asleep. A great conversation on the way home reminds me of talking to Steve again! I dash straight to Poole after dropping Rob and back to beautiful bed! Soon awoken by beautiful Broni’s early morning call and knowledge that she returns tonight.
These few days have been big big days, full of content and action (though not so thrilling to impart here).
Before leaving my sweetheart in the above section, we travelled London tubelike, drank coffee in an outdoor shopping mall and went through the science museum like butterflies on the wind. I was at a low ebb and still am today. Must be at the depths of my cycle currently but things have been on my mind. Things of much importance too.
While Bronwyn was away in Norwich we talked on the phone more about our wedding and each time Bronwyn cried on me. So difficult for us to find a compromise to suit all parties.
I’m also busy preparing for our stocktake at work which is causing me some frustration but fucked if I am going to write about work in here. Busy at home too with offers to buy my records now turned to pound notes and now in need of packing and sending. I’ll be glad when all this preparation is over because I feel like time is leaving me and I don’t have the freedom to relax and float around and say ‘Okay, I’ll go do that now.’
Reading Jack on the bus from London – what a great writer. A real poetic grasp on life. He reminds me of me – which could be just the sign of a good writer and I hope to emulate him one day. But my hand may not hold up to the pressure – back to the doctor next week I think.
And tonight restless too, more discussions about wedding and christening should we have the babies we desire. From frying pan to the fire. Sometimes it’s difficult to grasp the meaning of it all. Sometimes you just want to play games for the rest of your life. I wish Steve was here to talk to. I’ll miss my few friends when I leave here and my mum too. Such a big change in my life – I wonder if you can read it in my palm? I look forward to the other side of this weekend already (here’s me wishing away time!). Isn’t planning boring. Later dude!
All I need is one true friend I want total peace of mind To leave the hurting world behind I’m not scared; I swear I’m free It may collapse the fear That burns to bring the worst from me
– Lou Barlow
Like sparks igniting the brush, we’re up and awake this morning. Last night saw me, Broni, David, Louise and Piers up at Uxbridge Road a jot, to a wild Greek restaurant with some old English fella singing English 60’s songs. The place packed out, with the restauranteur stomping around with his clipboard and shades like some guy out of the Comic Strip Presents. Real stereotypical big fat guy running a business, short and abrupt with people with London accent, though Greek descent.
A crowd of people walked in and he went up to them and said ”Oo uh you? You’re late should’ve bin ‘ere an ‘our ago! I’ll see what I can do fer you!’ Food was okay, especially the salad with coriander! Came back to David and Louise’s and drank champagne – did I mention it was David’s 30th birthday? – and I pondered how I’ve ended up here in the last two years and how I’ve changed to broaden my horizons.
We ate plum pudding with brandy and whiskey sauce and hours later arrange a bed on the floor to sleep. I wrote some, as you can see, and me and Broni talked a bunch before Sandman carried us away into our subconscious fantasy worlds.
This morning the sun shines and our souls are alive with adventure, waking us up and now sat waiting impatiently to leave, to discover new things in old museums. Live life, love life.
How to describe all my emotions as I leave my true sweetheart behind in wicked old London and I travel rapide back home to Poole. I wrote a poem in the few moments before the bus left, a poem for my Broni. We waved and blew kisses as the bus pulled out of the station. I remember how whenever Broni used to say goodbye to me that was it – no lingering around.
We really do feel madly in love with each other and I would die if anything happened to her. I feel a big sense of loss already, I hope she’s okay getting back to David and Louise’s. I nearly cried as I saw her sweet face for the last time today, a beautiful smile wishing me well. How love has taken me over once again but this time with my real soulmate, one true friend. How we ever survived being apart for five weeks last year I’ll never know (but I will because we have all the letters). Love to my Broni, my thoughts are with you always.
The 23rd already – time flies when you’re rushed off your feet what with sorting out records and replies, stocktaking at work (and being unusually busy) and going out (even on our slim budget). Lisa and Mick visited. Next night saw us totally exhausted and watching TV and reading papers! I hope that doesn’t become the norm.
Today we’ve just woken up and preparing to go to Milton Keynes and then London for luncheon appointments. This mad rush of life is busy snatching time from us and we run along playing catch up, apologising to those we forget in our panic, to whom we owe replies and responses.
Read more Jack in mum’s garden, glorious sun shining and cats playing – this in the 10 minutes I managed to grab for a lunch break yesterday. And my wrist is starting to hurt again.
Steve, old pal, I’m thinking of you and about you recently what with all the stuff me and Bronwyn are going through and what you got up to in the short time I knew you. Your marriage and the birth of Rebecca and the emotions you expressed in the lead up to her birth. Difficult problems you faced and we face similar decisions now relating to our future life. Us hoping our life may be longer than yours but who can predict such sad events. Let us hope they do not take us over. Life seems short and tinged with sadness but we (Broni and I) are happy chappies (I can’t really say what I mean here but I’m not unhappy with life or despondent in anyway but aware of its boundaries and unevenness).
As to today, we drove in what seems like the blink of an eye up to Bronwyn’s aunt once removed (Bronwyn’s dad’s cousin’s wife) Isabel, who is a glorious old lady living in a glorious old house in a glorious village that she knows all the history of, having lived there 20, nearly 30 years, raising Piers and Purdy (ex-punk I’ve yet met). As she showed us around she talked with excitement and enthusiasm about the village across the decades and how Milton Keynes has risen as a spectre in the distance, gaining ground ever nearer. And she remembers when that huge sprawling city was just a thought in some ministers pea brain all those years before.
Her house was beautifully old and full of old books and artefacts along with delicate glassware she collects. We saw a five-day-old foal on our walkabout too and watched mum (big as an elephant) guard her baby. So sweet young life starts. Big life.
From here, photos taken, goodbyes waved, we shot down Macadam in hairy-dicey-Indy 500 traffic to city of lights where traffic oddly quietened and we got to David and Louise’s on time for 6.30 (hand sore again and Broni requesting my company in bed – how could I refuse my nine-stone girl (she says fat, I think not) so better go and leave you to wonder about me – who I was – who I am).
So now I’m taken to writing about this place that I live cos it’s meant a lot to me.* Let me describe some the two places me and my love shared before we came here, just to balance out the picture for you.
Well, December 92 saw me move away from mamas castle and seek out life on my own – find out what it’s all about and all that. Best way for my unsure legs to find some security was to live with people I knew so I prepared myself to live with mad Mick, a boyfriend of a friend that I’ve long known. Together we had to prepare his house for my arrival as there was already one other living there (drunk Rich) and not enough bedrooms.
Now, this house was mid-terrace in the centre of town (or near as dammit – just a spit from all facilities one could wish for, pub, chip shop, late corner store, town centre and hospital!) At the front was a main road, facing more houses and an old folks community Centre. At the rear a yard with a kind of singletrack service road and the backyards of the houses on the other side.
I was to have the big front bedroom that looked over the main road. Mick and Rich were not great housekeepers but that was fine with me. Many drunken nights had taken a toll on the house and its possessions – though plenty more were to come.
So it was Mick and I chop the living room in half by erecting a wall in the middle – a wall we were proud off because it stood and we didn’t believe it would! The kitchen and the bathroom both got our attention too though enthusiasm waned for DIY as time passed by and I moved in.
My room was the exception of the house tidywise as I cleaned it thoroughly before moving in and can sometimes be bothered to look after myself in that way. As the DIY got slated in favour of wild nights out some rooms became difficult to traverse. The Black & Decker workmate would often have to be negotiated to enter the kitchen or the bathroom. At one time the bathroom floor was awash with wood shavings and dust and even when clean and finished, the carpet held the dusty dullness. This was not a worry for us young active men who had no time to such activities as tidying up and our house (I could now call at ‘our’ house) was prone to the ‘let’s go to Mick’s’ after the pub closed syndrome i.e. it was a party house.
After only one month here I met my love (I knew I would) and after two more months (and a lot more story not yet wrote) she moved into my room. We were blissful and our surroundings did not bother us. Drunk Rich’s girlfriend moved in too.
As spring turned quickly into summer (I remember summer coming early) we’d all often sit outside for breakfast on any of the many cable drums I had deposited in the backyard as furniture. We’d chat lazily and plan the day in the hot sun. The summer wore on and my love and I made the decision to save up and leave the country – this we decided was not going to be an easy task in such a madhouse, and with that, with many other personal reasons, we up’d all our possessions into Pete and Catherine’s next door!
They both seemed reasonable people and not such drunken unreliable maniacs. This time we shared a back room a lot smaller and much of that taken up by a big double bed. This was luxury to us as we’d been squeezed into a single bed next door for several months. And so it was we slept most of the time on one side of the bed!
Not all our possessions would fit in the one room so we took up some of the spare too. This is where I think our first problem arrived. Most of my stuff was in that room and I’d spent much of my time there are my sweetheart would occupy herself in the bedroom. The kitchen too was small and the bathroom, though having the best show ever, being built as a downstairs extension, soon produced great mushrooms of mould. Though glad of a change in circumstance I felt this move may not have been a good choice.
Most nights we’d all sit together watching TV, eating our meals, drinking some beer and smoking some dope and as winter drew in, lit a cosy open fire. Though often interspersed by nights out or friends coming round we soon got bored with this and tried to occupy ourselves much more upstairs in our rooms but it wasn’t really working out. We soon got to the stage of going round to our friend’s (Kerry) house every night and spent a horrible chickenpox Christmas there.
We knew then that we had to leave so took to looking for flats or bedsits. Not cheaply priced in this area and not much for your money we were despondent of our situation until a longtime pal mentioned we could move into where he and his girlfriend were moving out from, as they were off to live in a house they’d just bought.
It looks like I didn’t actually get around to writing much about that house in the end. Just this:
Blinding brightness descends from heaven across the viewpoint in my yard, as I sit here and ponder. Here I am surrounded by bricks and mortar, shining pinks and reds in the sunlight and I smile, a beam of happiness. Even though the buildings encroach my view I am here with the trees and the flowers, the grass, and insects buzzing wildly by on their own little lives of adventure. And with the people. Gentle wisps of cloud delicately float by then evaporate in the all-encompassing, unforgiving heat of the sun, our noon Moon. Children play and scream in the dirt road at the bottom of the garden, down a gentle slope.
1994ever 