Sunday, 1 October 2017


There are places in the ground

Where drugs can be found

So stoners with drills

Leave potholes to fills.

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Wednesday, 13 September 2017

once upon a time

I was riding down West Vale on my way home on my bike. Probably from the centre of my home town to where I lived, a couple of miles away. Nothing special. Just riding home late one night when I was in my early twenties or possibly late teens.

I rode past a group of young guys on the corner of a street. I glanced at them. They looked at me.

I somehow knew instantly that this visual interchange meant something. They meant me harm.

I pushed the pedals hard and got out of there. A moment later I heard the motorbike engines start, and I upped my pace still further. Instead of riding home, I went a different way, and rode into a cul-de-cac, and hid between two houses. I was working as a postman in that area at the time, and I knew the place like the back of my hand.

The bikes went the way I should have gone, then doubled back, and did the next most straightforward way. Then one of them came down the cul de sac, turned around and went back out again. The rider didn't see me, pressed up against a dark wall, and after the sound of the bikes receded, I rode home via a couple of back alleys.

I'd done nothing to antagonise them, yet if they'd found me, they'd have beaten the shit out of me, for no reason, although I'm sure they'd have found some justification if pressed to do so.

It wasn't the first time or the last, so please forgive me for any misanthropy.

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Saturday, 19 August 2017

A change of pace.

I took two time lapse videos. One from a window at the caravan, the other from the window of the new flat.



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Tuesday, 8 August 2017

Mazlow's heirarchy of needs and the coming shitstorm

Mazlow's heirarchy is what Douglas Adams simplified into the states of Survival, Enquiry and sophistication. - How can I eat? Why do I eat? Where should we have lunch?

It's a triangle, that is divided into layers. At the base are the essentials without which we'd quickly die. Air, Water, Food, Shelter, etc. At the top is the freedom to become, whatever that may be.

The base is the most important bit. None of the layers above have any value if you have no air to breathe or water to drink.

So, you have no food, and no means of getting any. Game over.

You have food, but you're sat in the middle of a minefield and the food is thrown to you from outside, by fickle and sadistic providers. You can eke out a precarious existance for a while, but your long term chances look pretty slim, and your quality of life is, bluntly, shite.

You have food. You're in the minefield, but the people throwing it in love and honour you. You're still up the creek, but isn't this a little bit better?

You're in the minefield because although you'd rather not be there, it's your job to be there. It's a job that holds prestige in your society. That's why the people are throwing food to you. They think you're the dogs bollocks. You're still in the minefield, but you have a full belly, and you feel pretty damn good about yourself.,

You defuse some of the mines, and leave the minefield and get to somewhere with infinite food and zero mines. Hoorah!!!

In the last few hundred years, we've grown and grown and grown and grown and grown. I could go on. For an increasing number of people, if not an increasing proportion of people, their physiological needs have been met. In spades. Ditto our material comforts. Where do widescreen tellies and the ability to talk instantly to someone 10 miles away fit in to this? To put it another way, can people who only just have enough to make it out of the bottom two tiers find love, esteem and self actualisation. To me it's pretty obvious that they can. I think it's true also that safety is not essential. It's a sliding scale. The safer you are the more likely you are to survive, but as long as you're alive, you too can find love happiness and some sort of inner peace or whatever.

When I first thought about it, I reckoned that as we hit the buffers, things would go from the top down. I now think it's exactly the opposite. It's the bread and butter stuff we need to be concerned about. If we have that, the rest will surely follow.

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Friday, 4 August 2017


Everything was fresh. I had most of the rights conferred upon me by age, but few responsibilities. It was also probably the most fucked up part of my life.

I'm talking about that brief window between perhaps 18 and 25. I was born at the end of 1967, so that's the years between about 1986 and 1993.

What do we have there then?

Well, Rave, Grunge, Trance, Chill Out, etc. Hedonistic, drug fuelled, idealistic, naive, subversive.

Politically, there was a lot happening. I entered these years hard on the heels of CND's boom in the early '80's and the Miner's Strike. this overlapped with the rise of the Radical Left in Inner Cities across England, particularly in London and Liverpool. Then there were a whole host of other things. most notably the huge pre-internet social organisation that was the anti-poll tax movement. I suppose most people just think of the riots now, but what I remember is the posters in the windows, and the work those radical lefties were doing to provide a focus and an organisation for the discontent.

It struck me today that what I lived throught was effectively another Summer of Love. Except it went on a bit longer before it dissolved. At the time, I didn't really see it that way.

Perhaps people of every age feel this way. They could point to their own signposts from a few years either side and make pretty much the same post.

I think that in a few years, people in that roughly 18-25 window will be looking back on/getting into the stuff between Thomson Twins and Blair in pretty much the same way that I used to listen to Sergeant Pepper and Songs from a Room.

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