All of the noise rushed through the open window, as I willingly wound my way through the Purbecks; from the Cove to Old Harry, a chalky knife on the map. Is this the life?
The dilapidated rust bucket rumbles along as it takes me to the outside; toking to this song, a mind expand A fiery gun hand, my troubles all left behind.
Where there’s all creations, their buds and spawn; here I am! without a care, ensconced within a bed of air, joining in celebrating the wind ruffling my hair.
As a tone deaf chorus leaves my lip, sung from my very own big ship; happiness and joy fills my face with a beaming smile a mile wide, a dirty boy with no bright side, so often lost to his dreaming.
All around the world ships and irons are heard clanging; a banging of our headbones, waiting to go off and things.
On land and in the sea, so far from tidy suburbia; all the poor soldiers know, despite their charms, that’s the way we all go…
Written for the GloPoWriMo Day 18 prompt: Craft your own poem that recounts an experience of driving/riding and singing, incorporating a song lyric.
It surely was a joyous time, somewhere around 1989, I’d guess, driving my old shitty Morris Marina around the Purbeck Hills, checking out Lulworth Cove and Old Harry’s Rocks, smoking a joint and blasting Cardiacs songs with the windows down and me crooning along as best as I could, for no one in particular, perhaps a tern or two.
The bolded words are some of my favourite Cardiacs lyrics taken from the song ‘Big Ship’ – a joyous anthem that I shared often with The Pond during the late 80s shows. There are many other references to Cardiacs’ songs contained within, along with some band folklore. The title is an obvious nod to the master musician Dr Tim Smith, whom I miss dearly (despite never speaking to him), as do so many others who are ‘in it’.
All this ties in nicely to the recent release of Cardiacs’ LSD album, which is currently giving me earworms.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry I don’t know, who, when, what or why Spent my days in endless frustration A victim of a worthless education
Now I’m at school on the other side All the things I learned being applied And frustrated kids look up with empty eyes I don’t know whether to laugh or cry
The people who get on in theis world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can’t find them, make them.
George Bernard Shaw
Today I’m grateful for: Being able to share my abundant fruits with other people. The papaya is delicious but I can’t eat six of them! The best thing about today was: A quick ride along back roads and tracks to Bruno’s reminded me of times riding my motorbike in Dorset as a teenager. The green overhanging fauna down dirty muddy tracks and lanes. The smell of fresh oxygen mixed with distant smoky garden fires. I was transported, if only for a moment.
I took this picture because I found these two ‘good boys’ far from their home on my morning walk and they followed me all the way back.
It’s becoming obvious that I’m not going to be able to keep up with regularly posting updates here as time seems to slip on by. I’ll do my best to keep note of things and get to them when I can but not sure how I’m going to be able to keep them concurrent with events from 1994, of which there is still a mass of writing for that year in my diary.
If I just limit myself to a paragraph per note I’ve made this post is going to get quite long. I’ll try and be more concise.
So, our final morning in Dorset sees me going through some boxes of things my mother kept over the years. I’m interested in the photos more than documents such as birth and death certificates and old school reports. In particular are a couple of school photos I’m guessing from when I was 12 and 13. You can just see my hair starting to get more punked up, for which I got so much shit at school at the time, from teachers and older kids who nicknamed me Sid. I never got on with that nickname as I was more into Johnny Rotten but it was difficult to tell kids that as they were kicking and punching me for their random pleasure. The thing with these two photos is you can still see the light in my eyes, just starting to dull in the later one. These years were the start of what later would be diagnosed as mild depression. The transition from middle to high school was particularly traumatic as I had a whole new bunch of older kids to pick on me though I soon found some allies.
Before we know it we’re up the motorway again, back to other old haunts in Southampton. We’re staying with Amy’s cousin Ting, who has been in England so long she has the thickest English accent I’ve heard for a while – so much so that I barely recognise her on the phone sometimes.
Amy heads off with Ting to do some shopping as they are cooking together at a friend’s house that evening, whilst I head over to see my old pal, Chrissy.
Chrissy was the wife of Steve, whom, if you’ve been following so far, was the inspiration for writing the 1994 diary after his untimely death the previous year. I caught up with her briefly in Sydney a few years before as she was attending someone’s wedding there, just a suburb or two away from where I was living at the time. It was good to catch up again and talk shit like we did in the ‘good old’ days.
The afternoon is made more pleasant by the arrival of Steve and Chrissy’s daughter Rebecca, who was less than a year old the last time I saw her. I am shocked at the resemblance to Steve and can’t stop looking at her face. It’s like he’s right there again.
I also make quick friends with their dog who despite being somewhat shy took to me for some good pats, strokes and ear rubbing. But soon enough it’s time to leave.
I head back to drop the car at Ting’s and get out the maps app so as to walk to the pub where I will meet more old timers and down a couple of pints. The air is very cold but the exercise warms me and I look into people’s houses as I pass and wonder what their lives are holding for them today.
I stop off for some hot chips as I’ve not eaten much today and it would be preferable to line my stomach with something traditionally British and stodgy to soak up any alcohol intake.
There are some bands playing tonight, including some old friends but I’m not so interested in the music as I am in talking. Rich introduces me to his partner Geraldine and later Rob and his partner Emily turn up. A couple of other hopeful attendees find themselves busy elsewhere so they’ll just have to come and visit me in Thailand one day.
A jovial atmosphere and pleasant conversations quickly end this all to brief meet up but it’s much along the lines of that last night in Sydney, with certain friends you can just pick up on conversations with even years of interruption between.
The following morning we’re off to London. Amy wants to go shopping. I’m not particularly thrilled at that idea but I’ve set myself a task to track down a book I’m looking for. We’re also booked for a dinner in the evening at the Shard near London Bridge.
I’ve always enjoyed London as a place to visit but never, when living in England, felt the urge to live there. So, even rush hour tube trips have some sense of adventure to them. I’m constantly reminded of the Clash as we pass by certain stations and wonder at the motivations they had as they went from small house suburban London city to mega hotel New York city. Man, they wrote some tunes.
One thing I immediately notice is how much more multicultural London is than Sydney. Although not so used to hearing the English accent anymore it seems that in many places we visit and pass by that people aren’t speaking English at all. It’s a little unsettling and really cool at the same time.
This point is highlighted even more as we head for a pub lunch and I’m annoyed at myself for not understanding the bartender’s accent. I forget to apologise for my difficulty as her’s is a Lubjiana accent, so I ask her more about her country. She’s busy though but I think she wasn’t offended at my ignorance in the end.
We pop into Waterstone’s bookshop and finally I find the book I’m looking for, ‘Churchill’s Secret War’ and take this final chance to pick a couple of books about The Fall. I wasn’t going to buy these originally as I figured I could find them digitally but they were there, I was shopping, this was possibly the last day I’ll ever be in England and so they ended up in my luggage. Amy felt the same and bought a couple of massive cooking books which definitely means a rejig of our bags later tonight.
We’re starting to flag now and consider changing our plans for dinner tonight. It’s another beautiful sunny cold day, particularly bitter when the wind rushes through small side streets. We decide to head to the Shard early and see if we can just go up and take some pictures. We end up on the 34th floor at the small bar there and decide to splash out on a bottle of champagne and 6 oysters. These kinds of expenses usually bother me but I decided to relax again and enjoy this indulgence despite the fact the cost could probably build us a swimming pool in Thailand.
We reflect on our lives as we stare out across this old city and talk about how people think we are lucky to be able to do this and that. But we have worked hard, had a plan and always pointed our way towards it. I guess those comments are somewhat driven by the social media construct where friends generally only see you having fun, what appears to be, all the time. We know we have made the right choices along the way, the choices that have got us where we are now.
The following morning we are greeted with snow. What a nice surprise. The Mexicans we meet at the breakfast table in our guest house are equally thrilled and we watch them as they step out to take funny photos. We do the same a little later as we stuff our suddenly heavier re-jigged bags into the car and head to the drop off point. Unfortunately, our phone direction finder leads round in frustrating circles and we decided just to figure it out following the signposts instead.
Amy decides on one last shop at the airport, so I get in the mood and pick up another book about the rules of being English, something I mentioned to Amy when she smiled happily to the guy in the take away the previous night. I told her it was not usual for someone to smile at other people in England and the guy probably thought she fancied him. This is overplaying it a bit and is also the exact thing that attracted me to Amy in the first place. That was in Sydney though, where smiling is an everyday occurrence. I’m sure the English can often go a whole week without a smile.
The English confound me more on the plane to Bangkok. It’s another A380 but this time jammed with ‘bigger’ English people looking for thrills in the ‘land of smiles’. Despite leaving at midday, it’s an overnight flight as we fight against earth’s rotation and the English are up and at the crew galley all night long refilling on free booze. I did this once when the experience of flying was still new to me. Free booze must not be missed but I found it impossible to get drunk and to drink enough to be able to sleep. I would just end up with a frustrating headache at the end of the flight, so I never drink on planes now.
And then occurs the most English thing I can imagine. There are two meatheads sitting directly in front of Amy and I and they were constantly bouncing in their chairs at every toss, turn and minor readjustment. I glance the Sun in the lap of the one who is coughing consistently and roll my eyes. Midway through the flight, Amy needs to get out to go to the toilet so I get up and step into the aisle. Being half awake I was a little clumsy getting up and knocked the chair in front of me where the now angry boofhead looks around and proclaims, ‘Was that on purpose? I think it was, wasn’t it?’
I’m perplexed. My only reply is ‘Sorry?’ and I look behind me to consider if he’s actually talking to someone else because his words just don’t make any sense to me. Amy is bewildered too but trots off to the toilet as I stand and wait. The two meatheads decide that they’ll settle themselves down with more whiskey and the event passes. I still can’t imagine what leads to the guy’s question, if I knocked his chair on purpose, what was the reason? We’d had no previous interaction at all. It just seemed a typically antagonistic English response, a show of never back down, one-upmanship.
Those two guys ended up rushing off the plane to get to their destination of my more booze, sun and you can guess what else.
Our day has only taken 12 hours and we transfer at Bangkok for our flight home, finally my last flight for this period. There has been so much travel and rush over this month that it has been almost impossible to sit and relax and reflect. Probably for the best. Even mum’s funeral seems like something surreal and dreamlike that perhaps didn’t even happen.
This final flight is curiously filled with French and various Middle Easterners and I watch on as people struggle to find their seats. It’s a little strange really – it’s not that hard, is it? The numbers ascend and the letters go across. It seems to take an age for some people though. I wonder if their brains are wired differently, something that will soon be confirmed as I adjust to life in Thailand.
Back in Chiang Rai, we rush to sleep, eat, advise our builders, eat and sleep again. Another day disappeared into the mosquito-ridden night.
[Editor’s note: Pangbianr’s man down under (actually, he lives in Beijing) Bob Blunt writes in with a report on Shaun Tenzenmen, founder of eponymous Australian DIY label/distro tenzenmen. Shaun’s one of the earliest and hardest-working proselytizers of Chinese music abroad. Between his distro, his Alternative China tumblr, his Sino-Australian Music Exchange program, and his general web omnipresence in all matters China-music-related, he is nothing short of an indispensable component of the greater Chinese rock diaspora. If you’re so inclined, you can get 30% off all Tenzenmen releases through Bandcamp during the entire month of June. And here’s Bob with some background on the man behind the Tenzenmen enterprise:]
Fans – those who love what they first hear, they find it, follow it, fuck with it, it fucks with them, then they meet friends, acquaintances, lovers, and presto- a lifetime passes and the memories are sweet, the stories are long, and no matter how many times you scratch the itch, it won’t rub out- it’s in your blood, tiger, so just enjoy it.
Fans again – the people that write fanzines, those that hunt record stores, those that collect old dusty vinyl, have crates of scratched CDs, manage their friends’ bands, and, if they are clued up enough, they may even start a label or a venue of their own, spreading some germs to different corners of the world.
Well, if you get my long-winded drift, then meet Shaun Tenzenmen, he of his own self-named label, and one responsible also for the distribution and touring of fine Chinese bands into Australia, as well as other corners of the world. He’s a trooper, a fan, and a lovely guy.
I couldn’t help first asking him if he was fucking mad to pursue such a thing and all he could say was:
“Perhaps it’s a sign of madness that I’ve never even considered the possibility. I live in Australia so it makes sense to promote music into this country though I’m pleased that I get attention from all over the world. Still, it’s not enough to make me any money, but then that’s not really my motivation.”
Bob Blunt: Of course, it isn’t your motivation, and generally it isn’t with a lot of us. We just like what we hear, and if someone else isn’t sharing the love, the motivation within us to share it somehow is the essential part of what fandom really is. Am I right?
Shaun Tenzenmen: First and foremost I’m a music fan. I’ve always liked my music a little less conventional so even in my youth I would enjoy the weirder ends of the spectrums within a specific genre. For me, it has always been about discovery, whether searching thru the racks in record stores and taking a chance at the look of a record sleeve, or scouring the internet for some obscure gem from a backwater band in a garage. There are plenty of easy ways to find Western music so it seemed less interesting to me to add to that, and instead focus on something that not many other people were doing. After moving to Australia and becoming exposed to many other different cultures, I became curious about music from the East. Japan was already known about, but how about elsewhere? I got curious, I started investigating and I started finding gems! What was particularly attractive was that some of the equivalent music scenes were still in their genesis and hadn’t become segregated by micro-genres or jaded with time. It was a return to the origins of punk and all of what was encapsulated in its ideas. Many of these musicians are dealing with the struggles of daily survival and it’s amazing to see the communities born out of this adversity. As a comparatively rich observer, I felt I could lend my support to these scenes by promoting them and making it easier for others to discover them just as I had.
Shaun left England for Australia in 1994 when he was 27, thankful that he had been exposed to a burgeoning punk scene that even made it to Dorset in the south. It was there that the seeds were sown for his love affair with punk and DIY culture, which he still can’t shake off and wouldn’t want to. Here goes his background story:
ST: Whatever romantic notions you may have about England, it’s not a great place for a young lad prone to depression to grow up in. I found solace in the punk scene as best I could living in the countryside in Dorset. During the late ’70s and early ’80s, punk was such a huge phenomenon that it had penetrated even the remotest parts of the country, so yes I’m thankful for that. I was a vocalist in a couple of bands and after growing up a little I got somewhat involved in the organization of shows with a bunch of friends. I was also writing a bit for local zines and was somewhat immersed in the DIY ethic which was born out of the Crass/anarcho-punk scene. Not really having any idea about my future at this point though, when I fell in love with an Aussie girl I accidentally found my escape!
BB: How did that transpire in Sydney then?
ST: I sought and found the local punk scene here in Sydney and quickly got involved with it, most notably putting together a complete Aussie special edition of Maximum Rocknroll. Also at this time a record label I had been involved with released some noise recordings I had made back in England and this went under the moniker of Tenzenmen – it’s a bit of a collector’s item and may finally see a re-release on cassette through a good friend in Finland. Anyway – that was the start of the name, though I wouldn’t see or use it again for another 10 years.
BB: So what spurred you on as a kid then? I’m guessing you for postpunk blood?
ST: Looking back further I can remember my mother taking me to see her boyfriend’s folk band playing in pubs around the Lake District – I was 5 years old. She had a limited music collection but I really remember the band Mud and Lonnie Donegan standing out because they were so much faster than the other things she had. Next thing I remember is I’m watching Top of the Pops, as much of the nation did every Thursday night, and these out-of-control freaks are playing “Pretty Vacant”. I tell my mum that the bass player looks like Frankenstein. I’d start taping things off the TV (cassette tape – no video back then!) and I kept listening to this track and remembering the performance. And that was it – punk rock fever set in at the tender age of 10. I was quite rigid in the music that I allowed myself to like back then and I had to sit through some awful disco music to hear the occasional punk tune, but in retrospect, I was hearing a lot of great music in that period and it all had an influence. The definition of punk was also extremely broad and that is something that has really stuck with me so it is of particular annoyance seeing kids these days just go and see one style of band play, especially on a mixed bill lineup. You don’t have to like everything you hear – but to me, it’s all punk. In fact, this is a phrase we used a lot back in England in the early ’90s as gentrification was taking place: “It’s all punk rock, innit?!”
Twenty years on from 1977 Shaun became curious about China, and particularly its influence around Sydney at that time. You indulged in all things Chinese, am I right?
ST: I started going to the library and reading whatever I could find – be it history, culture, anything. I made myself a profile on an old China Friend Finder website, signed up for [Chinese chat program] QQ and started making friends. With the help of a few of them, I took the plunge and headed over in 2001, having no idea what to expect, which in turn produced a myriad of amazing stories that I needn’t bore you or any of your readers here with. Asides what was amazing about this first trip was that it was much cheaper than I expected and I could afford to go again six months later. Of course, both these visits coincided with the May and October holidays, as that was also the only time my new-found friends had time off from work. On the second trip I picked up a weekly English-language newspaper which was only about 10 pages, but it was great to be able to find something I could actually read. In there was an article about this tiny, tiny punk scene in Beijing. Very curious, the only clue I had about it was that they hung out somewhere near a train station (whose name I forget now). Of course, I went there and only saw thousands and thousands of your everyday Chinese going about their daily lives. No pink Mohawks and no leather jackets.
Shaun then took the plunge starting Tenzenmen, and it was then that he first toured a Japanese band, Limited Express, inAustralia. Through this, he was able to garner a shitload of contacts for people to help book the shows, and then…
ST: Everyone was coming to me and asking me the same questions – who do I contact here or there to book a show. I decided to start keeping a database to share this information with everyone, and as that expanded, I started investigating who would you contact in all the Asian countries to do the same thing.
BB: And China?
ST: Through all this investigation I found out what I could about those punks in China. Through an amazing set of circumstances, I ended up back in Beijing in 2007 and went to D-22, as I had a feeling this was the place to be. And boy, it sure was. What I saw there was amazing to me. In just six short years something was born out of almost nothing. And the energy and enthusiasm were infectious – I couldn’t really believe what I was seeing and it felt like I was watching history happening. Whilst some of the music was very Western-inspired, I was pleased to see a couple of bands really push the boundaries with what they were doing. I don’t remember all the bands I saw but I reckon it was all the top ten bands at the time. Can’t believe how lucky I was to have been in the right place at the right time.
BB: Now that it has been boiling for some time now, how do you see it all evolving?
ST: This is a difficult question for me to answer as I haven’t been to China for 4 or 5 years now, and as you well know, things change constantly there. I think already there is a feeling that artists need to take more control over their own destinies. Perhaps 7 or 8 years ago there was only the dream of being signed and somehow being made famous. I think these illusions were quickly shattered as everyone, as elsewhere in the world, is struggling with how to be able to make money with music these days. Piracy culture is even more prevalent in China than elsewhere, so artists know they really need to engage with their audience. There is also the two-pronged approach to promotion with bands obviously keen to market themselves abroad, but I think increasingly now bands and artists are more aware of nurturing something locally as that is really the long game.
BB: What about punk and DIY attitudes. Is there a real voice there?
ST: Continuing on this thought about developing a local scene really plays into the punk and DIY attitudes. It’s a grassroots thing and this is how I see it surviving. There will always be artists kicking against the pricks even as others fit into the mainstream or leave through frustration. There are already small waves starting to happen in the more experimental genres (who truly fit the definition of punk these days).
The ambiguity of terms like “indie” and “alternative,” and the marketing of them at will, to some extent “punk” also, can have a blurred effect on what people’s perception of style and voice really is. Shaun has some interesting thoughts on this:
ST: DIY is a very ambiguous term these days, and will probably transform in the same way “indie” has changed over the last 30 years. For me, DIY has developed out of the early punk cultures where one took control of their own work and output, and didn’t necessarily buy into the existing systems in place which generally benefit others rather than the artists themselves. If I analyze the work I do, it is not correctly called DIY as most things I do are for the benefit of the artists. I just do my best to break even and if I don’t that’s no big issue as this is my passion. When you ask about labels I assume you mean such as “punk,” “DIY,” “indie” etc – to me these are just quick identifiers that point in the general direction of a sound but it’s all very vague these days. It’s pretty useless and pointless to debate what does and doesn’t fit into one label or another. Just listen to the music and decide if you like it or not!
But your question also begs the question about labels such as Tenzenmen or EMI etc. From my point of view, I see Tenzenmen as a literal “label,” like Heinz or Louis Vitton for example. It might help identify for people something of quality or meaning when compared with something from another label. I push artists to take as much control of their work as possible. To be honest, I shouldn’t even have to do Tenzenmen – artists can do everything for themselves! And this has become the case quite often with artists coming to me saying they already have a product, everything already paid for and ready to go – nothing for me left to do except promote and distribute. These artists are keen to be part of the Tenzenmen label because they might see it as an advantageous association or they’re happy to help build a little community of understanding around the label. (Maybe there are other factors I don’t know about – I guess it’s a question for the artists.) Either way, it’s all positive and indicative of a culture of everyone pitching in to help each other to make something happen.
BB: So what now? I mean you’re a 9-5er in an office gig, where do you get your strength and longevity to do this love of your life?
ST: I’m worse than a 9-5er – I’m generally on call 24/7/365 and often have to work over weekends too. My strength is in my passion for what I’m doing. I do question my sanity on a weekly basis, and there are a lot of things to get down over, but there always seems to be something that comes along that picks it right back up for me. Right now I’m hoping to do a 7″ with a new-ish Sydney band that I’m really excited about. It reminds me of the traditional 7″ from the late ’70s – not in sound, but in style. A two-minute infectious pop song gem on the A-side and a more experimental, longer track on the B-side, which starts to stand out the more you play it. I don’t know if this will end up on Tenzenmen, but it is things like this that keep me excited. In amongst all this, there’s so much great stuff coming from China, too.
So the main struggle is time and how to wind down. I do have the help of a friend or two now – one who sends out the weekly mail list for underground/non-commercial shows in Sydney, a list which has come out weekly for the last seven years or so. And also a young web guru who helps me out with the website and also ideas to help promote what I’m doing. Ideally, I’d love to be able to start working with someone who has the same keen attitude who could keep Tenzenmen going as my involvement drops off, as I have plans to go live in South East Asia myself and kick back if I can remember how. Otherwise, I think I might have to draw a line in the sand sometime in the next few years and say, that’s it for the label for now.
[Editor’s note: I’ve been sitting on this article for far too long. In that time Tenzenmen has pivoted in the direction of focusing even more exclusively on Chinese music. I asked Bob to oblige my sluggishness in posting this by hitting Shaun up with a few quick followups:]
ST: As for now I’m pretty much doing what I’ve always been doing — helping with distributing Maybe Mars and Genjing products around Australia.
BB: A labor of love hey?
ST: It’s what it is. That’s not to say there’s no interest. I mean it is still a niche thing. As always there are things in the pipeline and who knows what is in store for this year. But really I’ve been seeing and feeling that for the last 2 or 3 years.
BB: What do you mean by that?
ST: What I mean is that things grow fairly organically and at a steady rate, but obviously not fast enough for me to make a fortune and retire though…
Gaunts Common was a quiet rustic village in Dorset, the heart of the south of England. It’s only shop, Gaunt’s Common Post Office, closed down in 1985 due to lack of funds and use. No more would the children be able to gather outside its window in the small parking area perturbing customers and neighbours alike.
17th Apr 2021 – The picture above is all that is left to remind me there was once a post office here. The traditional red public phone box has gone too.
The village school still thrived though, taking in the five to eight-year-olds from many surrounding areas. Morning and afternoon would be the busiest time of day as parents ferried their offspring to the South end of the village, packing the car park with their vehicles and causing quiet traffic jams. Some of the luckier pupils need only walk across the road and into the school.
17th Apr 2021 – I seem to remember more foliage around the front and being able to run around all sides of the school as we would often play ‘flashlight’ here at night time.
The community was mainly a farming one, though several of the newer houses were built specifically for their rich owners who travelled into Wimborne Minster, the nearest town, about four miles away. So, slowly the community was diversifying though tractors were as frequent on the roads as buses or taxis, leaving behind them great clumps of mud from the sodden fields. Everyone knew by name the farmers who ploughed the land and looked after the cattle.
17th Apr 2021 – Occasionally we would steal one of these hay rolls and roll it down the road until we got bored, or roll it into the woods where we were hidden from view, set light to it and talk shit with each other whilst throwing asbestos into the flames to hear it crackle and pop.
There were several riding stables in the village and surrounding area, riders taking advantage of the woodlands which began at the top of the hill and spread out to the Northeast towards Holt and Holtwood (more woodland areas). Cars were often required to slow down driving through the village as they waited behind a troop of horses and riders on their way to the woods for a healthy gallop.
By night time, after the small of rush of cars carrying people on their way home from work, the village became quiet except for one or two of the noisier children who would gather at the bottom of the school field, away from the prying eyes of their parents. The focus would then turn to the football club about a quarter of a mile south of the village where people were welcomed by friendly faces to share a beer, a game of darts or pool or, most importantly, to catch up on the latest gossip.
17th Apr 2021 – On the left, the ‘impenetrable’ woods where, as kids, we built a BMX track, camps, fires, war zones and get drunk before we were of age, at which time we migrated to the Football Club, on the right.
1994ever 