We found the Twilight Zone yesterday – here in Bathurst. You know the one where Joe Normal is in small town Hicksville and everyone is weird!
We went in search of food and drink for lunch and ended up in a small cafe up a side street. We looked over the menu and thought we should be able to get some decent food. We were still deciding when the waitress came over and so we asked for a couple of cups of decaf coffee.
We noticed the unusual size and shape of this young waitress with piggy red cheek jowls and the glisten of swear across her brow and matted hair, a poor girl happy for employment. We stuck with it as she went to find out what decaf was! It was then we decided not to get any food. She came back – no decaf (whatever it is!) so I ordered iced chocolate and Broni ordered an apple, carrot and celery juice.
We waited and waited while the only other customers seemed eager to leave, accepting apologies from the blimp for earlier mistakes that we’d missed. Eventually, after much juicer noise from the kitchen, the blimp brought out half a glass of brown sludge with a diarrhetic dribble on top and apologised that the juicer had broken and that it was only dishing out small amounts she was showing us. We told them to forget it and she brought out my iced chocolate – which looked ok – unfortunately the chocolate was still in powdered form and the milk must’ve been left in the sun.
As I attempted to suck the lumps through the straw, the blimp’s mother came out with the broken juicer, covered in years of old fruit and veg and explained that the machine had broken, offering it up for our inspection. We nearly chucked, paid and left and ran and ran fast! I was worried someone was going to run after us, grab us and slaughter us in some midnight full moon ritual ceremony – phew! Got away for another day.
So, early a.m. we catch the commuter train with the suits and the smart dressed young ladies into the city to pick up a hire car. Broni handles the controls, this being our first Oz car driving experience together. It’s already a blistering hot day at 9am. Slowly but surely we make it across the city to Wendy’s (Broni’s oldest sister) to pick up some stuff, then on out of the city, where suburbia ends and turns into farms and small town communities.
In the distance we can see the Blue Mountains beckoning us. We stop off for some salad, watching big carrier planes taking off from the army base close by and yippee, I get to take over the controls and charge us through the countryside, to the bottom of the mountains, slowly up, twisting turns, the smell of gum invading our nostrils, sun blazing in blue, oh blue sky faint whisper of cloud.
Not my picture…
We catch a brief glimpse from hilltop back to where we came, a breathtaking spectacle but we are still onwards, upwards, through orchard country and then into the real mountains with burnt scrub bushland, crickets screaming out their mad calls deafeningly loud in unison, cancelling out the radio. Road still twisty we balance on the edge of precipices looking into long deep vale valleys covered in black eerie gum tress caught in last years fires, for all the eye can see everything burnt, charred, like a graveyard to the flora, to nature and it’s wonder, each tree stood like a monument proud into the sky, now beginning to show signs of growth again.
For some half an hour we carry on through this beautiful landscape before descending down into the old coal mining town of Lithgow, and from here we drive for another hour across plains and farms to our destination, Bathurst, Australia’s oldest inland city. And here, at Broni’s parents, we make a brief stop before we head out to some places to look at with the intention of finding some place to get married and as usual, with our positive outlooks and thinking we find somewhere quickly that is an ideal place for marriage ceremony and reception so then we high tail round town to try and find a priest who might marry us outside, something which they are not known to do.
Again, not my picture…
We run out of time doing that but not before a quick run up Mount Panorama round the race course there, where some guy got himself killed in the Janes Hardie 1000, going much faster than us I might add. During the rest of the year the course is open like a normal road, with a picnic stop at the top. Weird driving round roads with tyre barriers and red and white caution markers on the corner bumps.
Back to base we lazy away the rest of the evening in conversation and old photographs.
P.S. The crazy natural amphetamine of youth! Ya!
Main picture taken on top of Mount Panorama with my best man, Rob, March 1995.
Oh wandering spirit in my soul, guiding me away from trouble and blasting me forward into the furnace of life – I embrace you, hold you and cherish you. I cherish this time, this day, this very second. I love my life, I love Bronwyn (deep, deeper), I love myself, I love the earth, the trees, the birds. My inner vision (and outer vision) now expanded with world awareness, my third eye open to positive elements (earth, wind and fire – oh yes, I feel a lot of funk in my life) and all that hippy mumbo jumbo shit.
Like someone said to us today, “you cannot convey to someone who hasn’t been to Australia, the space and feeling of freedom” and also it is that “that intimidates some people while others embrace it” and you see what I feel.
To bring you up to date we spent three pretty torturous stressy days at home together with a lot of all our stresses surfacing and causing us brief frictions but we understand each other and our situation and realistically just why these things are occurring as I probably explained some text earlier. So the last thing we wish to worry about is getting married yet this is what we’ve thrown ourselves into and we trip out to Bathurst where Broni and her 8 brothers and sisters were raised and her mum and dad still live.
I guess it turned into the 28th of September somewhere along the line in that last lot of writing and now it’s early hours of 29th, after some sleep – jetlag may kill us! We touched down and got through customs with no shit whatsoever!
I get up in the afternoon, after Broni’s going hyper with her mum and dad, telling them of our travels and experiences. I’m in awe as I look out of the window. It’s a flat city but not like in England. There’s a big wide road out front, lined with eucalyptus trees (smell the gum!) and mad birds sing (sung us awake this morning, previous entry, 5 am). There’s trees and wildlife everywhere. I woke up cold and it was windy and cloudy out so I put on a shirt over a t-shirt, stepped out onto the verandah (!) and the wind is warm – wild. The smell is fresh and clean. Me and Broni take a little walk up the top of our road to the train station, over and into a park (with a skate ramp and odd children’s playthings which we naturally play in) and the sky is huge, I mean really big and vivid – very beautiful – evocative. Yes! Awe, I’m in awe!
Jet lag frustration is catching up on us every now and then, a lack of concentration causing confusion – so Broni’s a-sleeping now and I’ll be soon after I reckon. First day has been excellent – smiling faces all the time. We saw the evening star at dusk-light – amazing to watch darkness slowly creep in, clouds with fiery red edges, black and fluffy otherwise against deep azure skies, on one edge (west) sky still white and light while east, total blackness, postcard-like. My heads in a real spin so it’s difficult to get it all down plus we’re pretty busy with Broni’s mum and dad. Tomorrow though we’re gonna be tourists and hit the city!
6th Mar 2021 – My very first passport tells me we arrived in Sydney, Australia on the 28th of September 1994. We had a stopover in Bangkok where I recall seeing rows of shanty buildings as we approached the airport and the tropical heat made it inside the plane before landing. I don’t recall anything about the wait at the airport there though. I remember a rough landing in Sydney though not certain of the time of day – I think it was daylight but also recall leaving the terminal in the twilight. The customs officers were both friendly and suspicious and once in the open air, as I was told I would, I was immediately hit with the sweet smell of lemon-scented gum trees. I believe it took 23 hours from take-off at Heathrow to touch down in Sydney and besides the expected jetlag, I was full of delirium, joy and excitement.
My first passport. My stupid signature is still stupid too.Visa stating must get married before 12th April 1995.
6th August 2021 – At Heathrow my mum shed a few tears as she wished us farewell. We also saw Paul Weller sitting in one of the cafes waiting for a plane to somewhere.
Back in the air, 30,000ft, 500mph plus! Saying goodbye to my friends and my crying mother sure wasn’t easy. Last time she cried was when her dad died. It was heart wrenching to leave her there, but now I’m here. It’s mad. I’m gonna take a piss over Turkey, just for good measure!
Me and Broni dripped a couple of tears as we took off and flew out over old England. Yesterday, someone (do I know who?!) wondered if I’d get all patriotic when in Oz and I scoffed some but I guess it has been home and has fuelled several fires in my soul. Now is only forward though – no looking back!
Sunsets over Turkey, just a few hours after it rose for us, leaving pink dust on the horizons as barren mountains below slowly dissolve into darkness. We rumble along leaving a trail of cold wet air turned cloud (-47C) and tiny points of light scattered here and there our only signs of life on earth. The run up to today has been pretty surreal, time biding, nail biting, hmm! I’m pretty lost for words right now would you believe!
Oh but I’ll tell you, on our drive to Newport, sun goes down west side, moon comes up east side, moon can see sun across other side of earth and gives us a delicious pink moon, strawberry blancmange, hangs low in sky, touches our hearts, mine, Rob and Broni. Humm!
Today, this morning, I ring up Chrissie – one last goodbye – wake her up and she tells me she dreaming of Steve (good dreams), first time in ages and I wonder if he’s not there somewhere watching over us all – seeing to it those he loved have happy lives. Pink moon.
Plane engulfed in pitch, we watch thunderstorms in the distance, quickly zoom past us and while excitedly watching the skies for more flashes of sheet lightning we witness space debris meteorite burn up in the semisphere (you know I don’t know what it’s called!), quick burst of burning energy, released right before our eyes, up here, in the arms of god!
In the arms of god alright – we’re higher than the moon, helf moon hanging crescent low, a dim light just a few inches above our wing. Below, isolated lights pin prick the blackness and at times congregate in great cities with circles of red and yellow – kaleidoscope still life – now though, nothing – like falling forever into black holes of hell (as refreshments are being served).
Now we’re gonna fly into the sun, a creamy white pervades the horizon, turning blue and deep deep orange and reds torchlight silhouette clouds – breathtaking, nature’s wonder. (Like Milton’s Paradise Lost). Sit here and take it into my mind’s eye, snapshot, hit up the old memory sometime.
A bried hiatus in Bangkok – what terrific views as we came into land and tool off, of millions of paddy fields, water ways, Buddhist temples and gold courses. And now we’re back on our way, last leg over Chinese seas and Australia, into waiting arms of potential relatives and friends. And me, I want some sleep but nervous energy adrenalin could keep me going for ages. Imagine landing in Australia, early evening, driving to our flat (all sorted) falling asleep and waking up again in the morning, like, where the fuck am I!??
Brief hallucinatory sleep – then hallucinatory wake – look our window and it’s all calm, deep blude sea and I start seeing spots in front of my eyes. After a patient wait, first strikes of red sunbaked land poke into the ocean – salt marsh top of Australia, below – beach reflects a huge natural fractal image so breathtaking in beauty I want to stop the plane and go tell all my friends, right now. Onward into great sandy desert and parched earth below and above a thick layer of thundercloud that we hang ten feet of so under – I feel like we are touching the ceiling of the world – wild grey artex. Few signs of life on ground. A road here or there, long straight and little used, stretching off into the hazy distance. Three hours til touchdown, other side of this island.
Cotton wool clouds cast big black shadows contrasting the scorched dry earth. I watched a cloud disappear, evaporate under the blistering heat. So barren and desolate and inhospitable but so beautiful for our vantage point.
Good news punk rockers, good news. A long-standing member of the scene in Southampton, is, at last, fucking off to Australia.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve known this person for many years + I’ve seen him change + for the worse in my opinion.
I’ll not be sorry to see him go that’s for sure! Now I can start coming to gigs again, knowing I won’t have to put up with his ugly smiling face + all his happy cheery positive talk. God, that guy was always looking on the bright side – I couldn’t fuckin’ stand it – it was insulting to my intelligence.
I’ve been keeping well clear of him for ages now, him + his obnoxious girlfriend. I blame her for his happiness.
Let’s face it kiddies, punk rock is not about being happy, it’s about isolation, pain + fucking shit up. About being miserable + paranoid + frustrated. These things are the fuel of the punk rock fire.
I ask you, how can anyone be happy + punk rock? You can’t + don’t argue with me ‘cos 1 should know, I’ve been like this for years.
Well, things can get back to normal now + it’s great that. I can come to gigs again. That makes me happy… erm… I guess?
Shaun’s Show
Mr Cynical happy? Who’d’ve thought? Looks like we won’t be seeing him again + you also won’t be seeing me again, ‘though you can still enjoy my future writings here + in ‘Suspect Device’. In case you didn’t know, I’m the one off to Australia. For those who don’t know who I am, I’m the guy in loud shirts, who’s been selling records in the corner at the Joiners. I’ve given THIRST! plenty of abuse when they’ve played + I’ve been too drunk to be coherent sometimes (but that describes any number of people!). I’ve been involved in the scene in one way or another for 9 years + the effort I’ve put in has reaped its rewards with great memories + new friends (still making new friends at the last gig). I’d like to thank all those people who’ve been there for me in times of need + whose floors I’ve slept on + whose memories I’ve rifled over the years. People who’ve fed me, bought me beers, given me joints, or taken me to gigs. They’ll all say they’ve seen me change over the years + welcomed + accepted that change. I know most people prefer me the way I am now, as opposed to 3 years ago. I was a cynical, obnoxious, loud-mouthed stubborn opinionated git. All those people who stood by me deserve much credit for remaining friends. I never knew I had so many. They know (as I now do) that the reward is in the giving + not in the taking. People who come to Southampton will find out for themselves just how good the scene is + I wish the best to all those involved – past, present + future. Spread the word cos the word is good. Remember ‘We Are The Magic People’.
Besides all that malarkey, there’s a couple of things that need addressing re: the STE Bulletin. First of all, is Queer Rob’s column regarding porn. Time has been against me in talking directly to Rob, so I’ll put it down here. Rob, your views on porn are ignorant + misguided. When we did speak, you asked me what knowledge I’ve had in regards to porn + unfortunately, the conversation got interrupted.
Well, a few years ago, I helped put together a fanzine that dealt with issues of sex + sexuality, one of the issues being porn. I studied the subject from all angles, so I do have some idea of what goes on and what others think of it. First of all, porn is made for men, by men. That might be a huge generalisation but I can’t think of an example of a film that was made for women.
Men make money out of it, lots of money + all over the world. Sex sells, I’m sure we all know that. It is a sexist business. Just like being a chef, you imagine all the people who cook to be women but all the top-paid chefs are men. So it is the women get to be on screen for a meagre wage, while the men get to rake in the profit.
Secondly, you say that these films are not degrading to women, because what they do is out of choice. The point here is about the way women are always portrayed in submissive roles in porn films – that is blatant sexism. I’ll give you some examples of films I have to hand. 1st: film ‘Virgin Ass’. Storyline/introduction/clothes off (2 minutes), oral sex carried out by her (2 mins), she mounts him, (2 mins), various positions that quickly reverse the dominating role ie he takes control (6 mins), anal sex (any guesses who carries that out on whom! – 2 mins), cum shot: (most cum shots revolve around her giving oral sex, again because it makes for a better film because the cum is visual. It is also a very dominating action.
If you like the sound of that, you can see just how lovely this is at home by inserting a carrot all the way into your anus, withdraw it + take a bite. You’ll notice the time will invariably be between 10 + 15 minutes, that is known as the ultimate wank time.
2nd film ‘Lesbian Trio’. 3 naked women with various sex toys, performing mutual masturbation + oral sex in various positions. This type of film is aimed directly at the male market. It is a common male fantasy to sleep with more than 1 woman, who perform lesbian acts together too. Male homosexual movies are also aimed at the male market.
Final film ‘Love Triangle’. Same as the first film, except her performing oral sex at the same time as vaginal sex, ending up with both vaginal + anal sex at the same time, ending with cum shot over face + in mouth.
Can you see the domination messages that that film is sending out to sad four-eyed five-knuckle shufflers everywhere? If people get off on it, then that’s fine but people who don’t understand that porn films are degrading to women are ignorant. That’s no crime, just a sad fact of life. Porn films make me realise that I’ve got much better things to do with my time.
Now I’ve heard it recently that people thought Rob Callen’s last column was too long + going over old ground. Well, I will say it here that Rob’s columns are by far the most interesting to read + so what if it means having to sacrifice the regular picture, maybe Rich could do away with his band listing, or start using some of the cover?
Rob is the most open, honest, selfless person amongst all the people I know in Southampton + it really fucks me off that people are always quick to knock him or ignore him. All he wants is for you to be open + honest with him, which is the very fuckin’ message he’s been saying over + over in his columns. If he’s repeating himself, maybe it’s because he’s not yet found those qualities in his friends being offered up. Think about it guys!
I hope to have a book out in early ’95, which is based on my life in 1994, which shows the major changes I have gone through in this exciting year. All your fave characters will be there + I hope when read it will encourage people to go out + grab life by the handlebars + seek out their destinies, be they in suburban Eastleigh, grimy London or sunny Sydney.
OPPORTUNITY OF THE MASSES WITH ROB
First off, I must apologise for everything that I’ll be going to say in this column because I just know it won’t make sense to anyone! Let me try to explain why:
Imagine yourself looking into the friendly eyes of some people that you’ve come to know + you see a myriad of shifting thoughts reflected in their eyes. Maybe your own thoughts are in there somewhere, because on some occasions you’ve seen what they’ve seen + have experienced the same things + had the same thoughts that they’ve had + through this slow process of getting to know them, you start to find out everything you’ve taken for granted + all the things you didn’t say because you thought it was inappropriate + all the ideas you had but didn’t have the courage to put them into practice, all came suddenly together + are brought into a clearer perspective, by talking to people who’ve showed a lot of respect + who talk honestly about their experiences + expectations.
I’m thinking about 2 people in particular, who won’t be with me/you for too much longer, for they are going home/emigrating to Australia + I think this is one reason why sometimes I tend to look at things with a sense of urgency, because it seems there are things which I do which I’m only gonna get one chance at – like playing in a band, or writing, or just talking to people, to see what’s on their mind.
Let’s talk about friends who emigrate first (!). Opportunities like this only come up once or twice, if at all, in a lifetime + obviously takes courage + a lot of thought + soul-searching to go through with.
However, even though I’ll really miss them both, for Shaun’s cool perspective on life + Bronwyn’s kind thoughtfulness, let me just say that through them (+ a few other good people I know, which included Steve), my perspective on lots of simple basic things keeps on changing. There’s not normally a day that goes past when I haven’t thought about it.
I’m not saying I’ve changed into a better person, or found “happy happy, joy joy”, cos basically I’m still the same old geezer but: what I might: have now is a stupid optimism, to look at everything as an opportunity + to not worry about problems but to laugh at them + to laugh at myself for laughing at them!
Maybe I’m getting off the point. The point is that: Shaun + Bronwyn have seen an opportunity (even if it’s rather an obvious one) + are grasping it with both hands. This is just a point that comes back to me, over + over again in that old NEWTOWN NEUROTICS song ‘Wake Up’, which goes: “Make the most of your life every day + every opportunity that comes your way”. To me these words are more than lyrics in a punk rock song, they summarise what Shaun + Bronwyn are doing + show me what you, I or anyone can achieve by just looking around the next corner, by opening up your horizons + by just making the time + effort to show people our good side occasionally.
So with keeping opportunity. in mind, let’s reconsider what I wrote in the first sentence. Maybe I shouldn’t have apologised – maybe I should have seen this as an opportunity not to put myself down but to say a big thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to look into my eyes + who has seen their own thoughts in there somewhere.
For although you might be 1,000 miles away in a new city, or new country + a new life there will be times when I’ll think of you + you’ll no doubt think about the people you knew here too, which will stir us to keep in contact – but not only with each other but with many more people that will come our way. It’ll be hard but the hardest things are sometimes worth taking chances on + fighting for. So let’s not, take this as the end but as a start of new experiences, of new hopes + most importantly of all, of new friends.
You didn’t need me to say this but I’ve said it anyway because I had the opportunity to do so. I’m not saying goodbye, just good luck!
Keep holding on to your goals + don’t let anyone get you down, for you can rest assured that in our own way, we’ll be doing the same, for we won’t be growing apart, we’ll be growing together with what is in our eyes + in our hearts.
After feeling a bit rough in the stomach department and then stuffing a huge pizza on Thursday, there was nothing for it ‘cept to take Friday off! So I spent a lazy day ambling about in Poole, Just a walk away across the park from where we live now. The park is full of mad ducks and geese and swans all crowing about looking for food off the tourists. And when Broni returned from her work (she’s now winding down too, thankfully!) we set off on the buses for Bournemouth back to good Chinese food and then a dash down to the beach at 10pm, through all the crowds, to catch a firework display. We got to the beach as the last rocket exploded! Luckily we’d been able to see all the aerial light show high in the sky. We were pretty drunk by this time and I guess we got home on the bus somehow!
Saturday was spent lazily too and in the evening we went up to Consumers Paradise to see ‘The Flintstones’. I enjoyed it greatly thanks to a few puffs of magic smoke. We attempted a walk in the park on our return but we got too paranoid with all the dimly lit paths and alleys and ominous shadows of trees. We had to crash out early to get up at half five to catch the early bird bus up to London. And so we trekked back across the park in the early dawn, both still sleepy-eyed.
On the bus, we spread out, my back with an aching hurt making me sit bolt upright and I read William Burroughs and Broni read Roddy Doyle. In the blink of an eye we’re off the bus to a quiet sunny Sunday in central London. First stop for refreshments at the Fountain Cafe, and then into the tube across town to Islington to Piers at Mildmay Grove (now made famous (of sorts) in a poem, to Piers’ amusement).
Soon after arrival, Piers’ Orstraylian friend, Andrew, turned up with enthusiasm for our ‘freeways’, “strewth, knocking on the ton most of the way, just to keep up with people!” He assured us I’d have a great time in Sydney, “Bedder then heya, thet’s fer shore!” Soon he dropped us off near Euston after a 100mph car ride through London’s busy streets. “Oi luv those corners, especially with the four-wheel droive.” and some off the cuff remark while we were talking about money he noted about a fellow car driver “that blek fella’s dun awright fer ‘imself droiving a rolla, must be a drag ranner!” No sign of irony, sarcasm, hatred or even ignorance. Beyond ignorance!
Piers took us to Chutnie for Sunday lunch. An Indian restaurant with a three pounds ninety-five, all you can eat menu. OK food, but no popadoms! Piers then took us to various parts of London, all on foot, which was good but after a while, in the wrong places, we got fed up with the people everywhere.
Piers left us to it as he had to dash off to some BBQ and soon after Broni and I lost our rag, poisoned by the city I’m sure. After making up we started to realise just how tired we were and how fed up with all the tourist traps we were. Things got worse as we searched for food nourishment around tea time. My back pain had transferred to chest pain and as we sat drinking an orange juice and water I got scared and cried at the memory of Steve saying “could be the grim reaper for me” after seeing the doctor about chest pains, just days before his death. Then, frustrated, we found an American diner in Leicester Square with the vague hope of getting well-fed but all we got was fed up with shitty garlic bread and nachos with no guacamole – what the fuck! Totally overpriced too for the tourist boom – it was here we started to hate London and it’s consumer nightmare. Buy or die. Charging over a pound for a coffee is just pure rip-off and taking advantage of people – I can’t believe people are sucked in so easily but you are constantly bombarded by it.
We tubed over to Victoria to prepare to leave and things got decidedly evil. I paid 20p for a piss and approached the urinal thinking to myself, stand at the opposite end to the drain hole so you don’t have to smell everyone else’s piss. I’d done the wrong thing as I was thinking that, of course, but made a mental note to do that next time. As all that was going on in my head I became aware of some dude stood two booths away. Looking down I saw no signs of piss flowing down the drain and realised this guy was jerking himself off as he looked over at me. I quickly finished up and fled feeling a bit flustered. Not sickened but saddened by this behaviour. I felt strange for several minutes and as I walked up the stairs at Victoria I saw the shadow of Satan’s angel cast on the ground. I turned and looked up but, nothing! A very real experience probably easily explained but in my emotional state, very believable. And suddenly the city seemed insidious, dirty, depraved and evil and as we begged to leave, our coach was delayed. Only memorable point was while we were waiting, catching a girl’s eye by chance and her smiling at me!
Bussed home eventually, me looking after Broni as her health deteriorated by the poison of the day until she puked as we walked back across the park, now shrouded in darkness, ‘cept sky lit up by wandering searchlights touching the low-level cloud with fingers of fire.
Back at work today, still sad inside with thoughts of the dead city and Broni coming home ill after half a day’s work. I went to the doctors about my wrist again, where I was palmed off with the same old rest and recuperate rubbish. I think there’s more to it and have booked to see another doctor tomorrow. This has been very painful to write I’ll remind you – sympathy, please!
I’m getting excited about leaving now and frightened too but not so much as I’d expected. It seems like I’m just moving house – difficult to explain. Hey – had a great long cool chat with Rob on Saturday night – one cool dude is our Rob. Remember, Rob is God.
Hi, my name is Shaun, I interviewed you guys for 3 Parent Family fanzine back in 90/91 (?) and was looking forward to seeing you guys play. Unfortunately, destiny has dealt me a bad hand on that score as you can see from the above tour diary, and now to finish it off you are playing in my local scene just weeks after I leave to go and live in Australia!!!
Maybe you could dedicate a song to me when you play? How about the tour song off Bivouac??
Hope it all goes well for you and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to see you guys someday.
Let us know if you’re ever planning to play Australia!!
Love and Respect
22nd Oct 2024 – If memory serves me correctly I gave a copy of this typewritten letter to Rich Levine in the hope that he passed it to the band before they played in Southampton that year. I’m not sure if that actually happened or not though.
Then up to Old Sarum, the old town of Salisbury in Roman times, with magnificent views, particularly of the Roman roads that met their 2000 years back. We sunbathed and slid down banks, climbed up them and avoided paying to get in. A way cool place – go see.
We videoed some wildflowers and wild insects and then headed home to Poole where Broni, Rob, John and I went down the pub for dinner and a couple of beers to celebrate/commiserate, before walking down to Kerry’s to watch a video. Unfortunately we picked Body of Evidence. What crap! Nuff said.
So’s, after watching a bit of the third-place play-off in the World Cup (Sweden well ahead though still don’t know the final score) we stumbled home drunkenly and guess what? I can’t remember anything else of that night. Ho-hum.
But Sunday, once again I woke wrapped in Broni and let’s just say we didn’t get up for an hour or two us being too interested in each other. But breakfasted on, then mad rushed us fab foul four again to the beach to meet Chrissy, Sharon (Steve’s sister), Amanda (Chrissy’s daughter), Luke (Sharon’s son – The maddest baddest little bastard ever! And of course exceptionally cute in his few years of age – totally lovable!) and Jennifer (Amanda and Luke’s friend). So for five hours, we played football, catch, volleyball, frisbee and Luke’s special game ‘knock you over and jump on top of you and throw sand in your face!’ We all spent most of the day laughing and playing and having good old-fashioned childish fun. You can’t begrudge that can you?
Exhausted we came home, Rob back up to Southampton, me and John to watch the football (sprawled out in the front room) and Broni upstairs to watch the film ‘She’ll Be Wearing Pink Pyjamas’. The football, the World Cup final, was a slight disappointment though reasonably entertaining and a shame to be settled on penalties at the end, sparking the age-old debate of how to settle a stalemate match. It being late and us exhausted we still found some enthusiasm for an idea would come up with holding a party on the Saturday before we are evicted. The cunning bitch Julie left on Saturday afternoon, thankfully, which is an immense relief all round – the last we hear from her I hope though we may have to chase her up for bills sooner or later.
And so it came to Monday – the day of little occurrence of note, save John and I playing frisbee up at the park, in the most delicate beautiful rain and humidity, till darkness swamped the evening. When I got back me and Broni played silly buggers till bedtime recharging ourselves with each other’s love and closeness.
We also, over the weekend, decided that if Rob comes to Oz for the wedding, he’ll be our best man. Hey man, cool – will ask him soon. And everything will be mad frenzy now, packing, sorting, writing letters, changing addresses, closing bank accounts and fucking partying. Go dudes! Oh yes, good can come from bad – just watch us prove it.
(Later) Phew. It’s scorching hot, preparation for the coming summer in Australia (destiny – what the card!) Drove across some wide-open land today, fields upon fields of corn and crops, cows and the bull. Down dusty tired tracks by dung heaps, open space is like…it’s like….freedom. At the end of that journey was a farm with a pretty farmer’s daughter and her way cute two-year-old (I’m guessing) and a handsome farm boy who would charm the undies off a nun if maybe he wasn’t the village idiot, knowing nothing else but muck and chicken shit. (This is all in my mind of course – who knows what these people may do by night. I could see this guy at some nightclub bar with a queue of girls lined up to caress his rippling muscles – like I said, who knows?)
And I’m out in the sticks now, driving through some sleepy village that even has two names, like one had forgotten and another thought up – and imagine the village war between the farmers and the petrol pump attendant families over which name to use (out here they may still have a say – imagine us try to change the name of Bournemouth to Old Bastard or something).
And I gets to thinking, seeing some old dude bent over double with age, where I might be in 100 years time. Hmm? And I was thinking of something Rollins wrote which I’ll write ye down when I get home and maybe I’ll find a connection. Anyway, think about where you will be every year for the next 100 years okay – see what you come up with (go for it I say).
