Tell yer ma, tell yer pa, our love’s gonna grow – 1st August 1994

Well here I am, many days later – time has been against us once again. Now I’m at work, all stirred up caffeine wise and about to briefly run down some of the stuff that’s been going on this week.

I must mention the Danish hitchhiker I picked up. A real relaxed cool dude who told me of his travels hitching across Europe, Russia, Siberia, China and into Tibet. And going to places where they’d never seen white people before, camping under the stars and spending days in countries with nothing to do except watch the world go by in all its beauty (can you imagine me doing that!!). I asked him what started him off travelling and he said it was an English sunset. Time and travel had turned him into a beautiful person, not craving after the greed of modern life. A balance I would find difficult to cope with what with my possessions which I love so much, although I know they are meaningless in my heart and in my soul. Much respect to that dude anyway and he showed me it back. We understood each other and knew we were both good people.

At the end of the last piece I wrote we went to Southampton and we saw us some bands. One from Belgium called Byetail, their drummer later purchasing some of my beloved records. When they played they impressed me enough to donate the Mission of Burma album to him too. He was pleased! (He was a cool guy too). And back home, intending to pack some more but knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

And then, Monday out for a meal at Rosemary’s. She is a fellow speech therapist friend of Broni’s. One of the few who is okay and works hard and is friendly. Some of the stories I hear about the others are incredible. Real typical social climbing stuff and putting themselves into positions where they don’t have to work so hard and when they do do some work they make sure they get the really well-paid jobs. It seems whatever your profession there’s always some of that bullshit going on. Well, we had a great meal and lots of wine which meant we had to stay over the night (night four of being drunk!).

Tuesday, Broni went out with Danny, Joe and Stella (over from Amsterdam) while I did some packing up and crashed out fairly early, all the late nights are catching up (but I think Broni got in at about 2!).

And Wednesday more packing before racing up to Newport via Southampton to see the excellent Wholesome Crack, okay Swine Flu and the fucking awesome Drive Like Jehu, whose music just took me away and made my body jibber and twitch that my head nearly fell off. Unbelievable!

Back to Simon’s and to sleep about 4.30, me and Broni in the hallway, Rob, Rich and two Irish guys in the front room. Of course with Simon’s kids we were up at 8.30. Young Elliot first shy but then running around shouting and screaming. A real cutie! We hung around Newport so long, a planned game of golf went out the window. Eventually driving back zombiefied and home where I slept for an hour or two as Broni continued packing stuff up. I woke up for a couple more hours to eat some food but couldn’t keep my eyes open so once again went where the Sandman walks.

Friday, we moved a ton of stuff down to Kerry’s – I think that took all day, I can’t remember. And then went up to Wimborne to show Kerry another nice Tandoori, suitably stuffed and we went back and crashed out – a small day in descriptive terms but a huge one in reality. Our old house now empty of all possessions.

It’s Saturday, up at 5:30 to take Kerry up to Heathrow to catch a plane for Helsinki to Tokyo. Had fun watching people from a hundred different countries go by, hustling and bustling! And back to make preparations in our old house for the party later that night. We hired out a big disco and set it all up and decorated the house with balloons and streamers and spray string. And waited for the masses to come and slowly but surely they did.

Later dudes!

Searching for pictures to use on this post led me to this page: https://abstractanalogue.tumblr.com/post/167514322499/drive-like-jehu-uk-tour-1994-press-clippings
which, would you believe, is written by one of the Irish dudes who stayed with us all at Simon’s house!

No hope for you, no hope for anyone – 24th December 1983

28th Jul 2024 – Mum and me in my bedroom at Forest Cottage. I’m not sure why Mum let me graffiti the walls but I did, and my friends did, along with some painting and various other decorations. The writing on the right was WASTED which was my imaginary band at the time.

Her old Sony Trinitron was how I remember watching TV in those days. I think she had upgraded to a newer Sony Trinitron, happy with the quality. Those things used to last and the rate of improvement of technology was much slower then.

My room wasn’t much wider than this. My single bed fit perfectly across the width and the length was perhaps a little shorter than two bed lengths.

The three-piece suit was an Oxfam buy that was a bit of a fuck you to the traditional punk clothing that everyone was wearing and also helped me get lifts to Poole when hitchhiking there.

28th Jul 2024 – Sometime around October, I had bleached my hair and a week before the Christmas holiday started I got the sides cut to give me a nice wide blonde mohawk. The school were having none of it though and suspended me from school unless it was off or dyed black. So much for the Christmas spirit! Fucking school!

I thought that my Mum wouldn’t be that bothered about me missing the last few days of school but I was wrong and she insisted that I do something about it. So I got most of it cut and the tuft at the front I had to cover in boot polish until the end of the week. Ugh.

This picture was taken in the dining room where my grandparents would spend their time, the chair behind us belonged to our dog, Jenny, a springer spaniel that my mum overfed over time and eventually was unable to lift herself up there.