My Dad told me a story recently, about his first beer as a young man. This would have been in the early 1960s. He was off work with Laryngitis, bored and with nothing to do he started exploring the locality on his motorbike, probably a Triumph or a Norton, although it could have been a… Continue reading Dad’s first beer
Category: Great Britain
A few days in hospital
Although I’d never stayed in hospital before and only ever had a passing need for their services, I’d always admired and supported the NHS and everything it stands for. Stupidly, I’d always imagined a hospital ward to be a Holby City-esque world of chatting nurses, bowls of grapes and happy endings. I didn’t imagine that… Continue reading A few days in hospital
Why we need supermodels
Any healthy society needs elements that refuse to behave, that don’t follow the rules, ignore what is expected, or what is required. It’s the punk ethos that we celebrate and scorn in equal measure. In a modern sense being a supermodel epitomises the punk, a self obsessed individual refusing to conform to a way of… Continue reading Why we need supermodels
Life in the Parachute Regiment, aged ten
As a child in the 1970s I went to a small Church of England Primary school in the rural Essex village of Colne Engaine. Situated at the edge of the village the school looked over fields and woods in three directions, in all seasons the slightly undulating expanse of countryside formed a familiar backdrop to… Continue reading Life in the Parachute Regiment, aged ten
The dark side of the early eighties
The only music I really had access to when I was younger was my Dad’s record collection. He didn’t have much in the way of vinyl, maybe enough to fit into a couple of cardboard boxes and most of it had been played to death or had been scratched by us as kids. It sat… Continue reading The dark side of the early eighties
19, Paul Hardcastle
I first heard this record round my cousin Paul’s house in Ipswich after it was released in 1985. Paul was a townie and a casual, unlike me and my brothers who where from a rural village in Essex. Never as well dressed, we were as unlikely to wear electric blue cords or Fila tracksuit tops… Continue reading 19, Paul Hardcastle
Keep Calm and throw all that shit into landfill
The whole Keep Calm and Carry On thing has officially run its course, it’s no longer the ‘In thing’ and is about as relevant as bootcut jeans or Snow Patrol. What was once the darling of the broadsheet gorping middle class can now be found as a staple in any shop selling cheap landfill received… Continue reading Keep Calm and throw all that shit into landfill
What not to keep in your wallet
1. Receipts Don’t bother putting these in your wallet, they will add unnecessary clutter and make you look like a self employed builder, nobody wants that. You’ll end up taking your wad of receipts home and dumping them on the side in that pile of clutter that gets blown around the hall every time the… Continue reading What not to keep in your wallet
The Campsite Nazi
Dad was a camp site Nazi. It’s not something I hold against him, it’s a state of mind he developed to deal with children, adults and animals on camping grounds. I can’t remember when he became a Campsite Nazi, but it must have been around the time of the Welsh Holiday incident when he arranged… Continue reading The Campsite Nazi
My first kebab
We never saw Dad much when we were really young. He worked in London, left in his Capri (“Bodie and Doyle have one like this”) and was at the end of the M11 well before we got up for school. He came home late, after dark when we were in bed, usually after a few… Continue reading My first kebab