#i thought of this while driving asdas
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#i thought of this while driving asdas#i love hearing how people say things from different regions#if you reblog say where you're from >:)#im md & say the first one
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Starting Fresh - from wp blog, 19/04/2020
Hello, my dear visitor! I hope you are doing well and are still safe and sound. It's one week later, roughly, so I thought I'd call on you again. I'm happy to see you are armed with that hearty supply of biscuits I sent you - never again will we have a biscuit-less tea session!
As foreshadowed by my last post, this past week has been one of... learning, shall we say. I learned that things do pass, because now my feeling of 'overwhelmed' has subsided to a manageable degree. I simply took it day by day, setting myself small, achievable steps I knew I would feel accomplished for doing: for instance, setting aside a day for 'getting back to people', video-calling plenty of relatives, and going on an adventure to the big Asda (as a result of which shop I now have slightly blonde-ier hair and my boyfriend has made so-delicious-it's-actually-dangerous Oreo cheesecake). I also made sure to be kind to myself. I haven't been updating my 'Fuck it' diary as often as I 'should' but, well, as my mum Anna says, "We need to stop should-ing". Again, I've had to conscientiously change my vocabulary, making sure I recognise that I only write in it because I enjoy it, and that I haven't 'stopped' writing in it, it is simply on hold for now. And that's okay.
Another thing I learned (a perhaps basic thing, you may be thinking, considering my writing passion) is that reading makes me feel good - thank you to my parents who sent me that parcel! I'm currently really enjoying The Monkey Wrench Gang, partly because of the extensive vocabulary I've learned from it (pictured), but also the writing style has me 'hooked'. It's made me realise that reading doesn't take time away from my writing, but is part of the process of developing my style and skill. This is shown quite literally in the creative piece of writing I am about to share - but first I want to talk a bit about The Monkey Wrench Gang.
I am only about a quarter of the way through (so no spoilers please), but already it is the first piece of fiction in a while that has fully captured the attention of my monkey brain. It's written like an enhanced style of conversation, with vivid imagery constantly keeping my imagination engaged. It's easy to follow the themes and messages and plot, and because of that it's a book I could read all day, as I practically did today.
The most fascinating thing that caught my attention was the structure. It opens with a prologue detailing a dynamic event key to the story, absent of the main characters. Following this, each main character (there are four) is given a chapter to themselves to give a bit of background. In the sixth section, the characters finally meet - and from there the main plot comes into motion, but the thing keeping it driving is the prologue; the notion that at some point, these characters will be involved in said dynamic event. The result is one of anticipation, cleverly and clearly organised in the structure of the book, which is very satisfying. It has inspired me to have a go at writing out in a similar structure - in which I lay out the world and themes in one chapter, and then take the time to slowly introduce and bring all the main characters together in the succeeding characters. It's a good way to develop the world, plot and character dynamics, even if later on the story doesn't include the writing of this exercise. Have a whirl yourself!
Anyway, I wanted to include a couple of bits that I really liked from the book:
"Far beyond those galloping galaxies, or perhaps all too present to be seen, lurked God. The gaseous vertebrate."
P65 (1982 Picador Ed.)
"No one knows precisely how sentient is a pinyon pine... or to what degree such woody organisms can feel pain or fear... but this much is clearly established as scientific fact: a living tree, once uprooted, takes many days to wholly die."
P76
The first one is a favourite simply because of 'gaseous vertebrate'. I mean come on! What an ingenious, inventive way to describe that guy. The second is just a beautiful moment that captures how human this story is. I really want to thank this book and the donor of this book (Anna) for what it has taught me.
I have also learned this week when to move on, let go and (cue title) start fresh. Some of you know, and some you don't, that I have been working on a story for the best part of three and a half years. However, I have reached a point where I know I need to put it aside and give it some space. Part of the reason is because I wrote it when I was a bit younger, and lots of things have changed in my mind since then, so I feel sort of alienated by it. I might come back to it, or not, it doesn't matter too much to me - I learned a lot along the way, and I proved to myself that I can stick to an idea for a long time if I want to. It had turned into a tired marriage, and now I'm going to try something else.
Yay! New project! I'm going to try my best to use what I've learned, use what I love and write a story from start to finish. Currently, I love Edinburgh. What else do I love? Vampires! Always have, always will. What else do I love? The Monkey Wrench Gang's opening structure, baby!
The following piece of writing is a creative exercise. I'm testing the waters of a new story. Please let me know what you think of the idea, and which bits you liked best! The writing may not be the best, because this is like -1 of a draft. But I do hope you enjoy, visitor...
If you were one person, you might see a vast expanse of bare pavement, long stretches of square stones and tarmac exposed to the sun and rain and sky, but no footprints traced in water or oil; no footsteps. There’s barely a soft percussion as the rubber sole of someone’s trainer presses ahead, with legs that carry an uncertain gait, ready to run, ready to stop and go home. The birds still chirp, though their songs can hardly fill the space left behind, and the clang of the clock chime still rings out. Strange, though. The sound of proud and important metal announcing time washes cleanly through the landscape, no conversation to override it, no jostling of bodies that absorb the impact, no distant acoustic music nor yell nor unexpected snapshot of “-well, I told him to straighten his tie, didn’t I? And did he?”
“-rimark has the best prices, sure, but everything falls apart in a week-“
“-shoes! They’re so sparkly, I love them. Oh my god, look at that dog-“
In fact, the ratio of dog to people is near equalised, for every pedestrian that owns one arms themselves with a companion, the perfect armour for any questions from the formal sector. No sir, no fine please, I live nearby and was just heading for a march up Calton Hill. Is it a ten-minute walk from the high street to the hill? Maybe it’s just shy, but hardly anyone actually lives on the high street, on the street with chain shops opposite chains wrapped round park gates, with an undulating set of gardens set apart by meaningless road. Shaping the backdrop is the silhouette of a stone giant on a jagged base of cliff, so dramatic it could be a film set, a hollow and lonely castle. Its city certainly inspired sets of films.
No, people come and go, but hardly any live on the arms of the high street. Now there’s hardly any coming or going either, the train station a quiet vessel that cannot meet the eyes of the hopeful mason magnificence that is the hotel next door, and the one opposite, and over the bridge in the Old Town. The settlers are few and far between – so that means your walk is definitely over ten minutes.
I’m sorry sir, but I was in need of monument. I yearned to smell trees and grass and climb to a height where everything is clear and manageable; to see the sea – yes! We’re connected – that blurs blue with blue or grey with grey as sky meets itself in a mirror; to cast my eyes over the Victorian Roman-style structures and statues that make me feel as though Edinburgh’s all a dream.
That’s what the walker thinks, but in actuality they say much more of an apologetic compromise, respectful citizen, law-abiding wanderer. Or that’s what they say, in the scene in their head, and then they sigh and pet the head of their dog and feel reassured.
That’s what you would see, if you were one person: city dead, people trying to stay alive. Humans hiding out in a weirdly calm apocalypse. Quarantine is becoming life and life is staying quarantined. It’s a lot different from how all the fantasy novels described it would be – stark contrast to the daunting and impossible violence of the movie undead; the sound design is void of screeches or screams; there’s no vital protagonist ready to smash our problems away with a spiked bat or highly specialised doctor ready to give us back our humanity.
An eerie, beautiful, human-less city.
Similarly, if you were another person, there’s hardly a human in sight – or at least they’re drowned out by the murmurs of the drifting, the dragging, the droning. There’s a lot more space and so they’ve filled it up, expanded and stretched the crowd like a bunch of damned gas particles. A woman in Edwardian dress stands by the train station, chattering to a couple of female friends, waiting for their English pen pals to step off the steam locomotive; they carry lace parasols in delicate white gloves and the hems of their dresses hover just above the ground. A gentleman in a dusty suit that splits at the elbows bends over clumsily, bottom in the air, and sniffs a daffodil. He hesitates only for a moment before gaping open his foul jaw and snatching it, bulb upwards, yellow flower eaten by a yellowing mouth. A tall man with porcelain skin watches on as he passes, shakes his head and brings a napkin to his slightly blood-soaked teeth, red eyes both disgusted and understanding.
“Waste of a flower…” he mutters and follows the winding garden path.
“Oi!” A flower fairy smacks him in the face with purple dust. He whispers “At last” as he falls backwards and slides part way down the slope in slumber. She rolls her eyes, fists clenched, but then sees her sisters trying on clothes in H&M and buzzes over hastily. They’re trying on the latest trends from a month ago, posing in crop tops and strange sunglasses and baggy high-waited trousers. Their brother’s flapping his wings in distress as he tries to put everything back the way it was – he doesn’t want a human accidentally getting arrested for this. They’re the ones that put out our fairy circles, he thinks. The Big Winged Ones got bloody lucky with Stone Henge.
There’s wolf howls and angel cries and demon chanting, there’s magic and everything unknown clouding the air. There’s a witch graffitiing hexes on the cliffside and a confused half-human confiding in their spirit guide. Sometimes you might see something and you’re not sure how to categorise them – they have sharp teeth, but that’s it? Or they seem completely mortal? Or they’re a ball of mist with a knitted pair of eyebrows? Whatever the thing or being - big, small, or giant – they’re a glorious patchwork community thriving on the underbelly of human life and partying in the many damp graveyards that speckle Edinburgh’s body.
If you were the first person, who would have known that dancing on your empty stone slabs and ruffling the hackles of the dog was all that world? Although, perhaps some do know. Some have seen ghosts, heard unexplained noises in the night, seen flitting life-like shadows. They watch you while you sleep, they visit when you’re not looking, or they’ve spoken to you in disguise. And it’s hard to imagine, when you look at the stone spine of the city and take account of all its monuments, that it lacks some kind of spirit, some ‘other’ and that two different worlds may not somehow be intertwined.
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It's so fun reading through past bits that I've written. This was the start of a fantasy idea that has stayed stewing in my mind since, and is manifesting in my current writing project. I love the paragraph that describes the reality of quarantine, it truly captures what that time felt like for me. And it's a bit chaotic, but I love this writing style, so vivid and fast-paced somehow! I might try this writing exercise again sometime. (although I never got round to finishing The Monkey Wrench Gang lol)
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Your from the UK right??? Not to make u sad but imagine going to Asda with Ben at 2 in the morning (u only went for some milk) and u end up coming out with almost the entire shop in ur trolley 😂😂 Happens to the best of us
YAY
“We’re only going for milk.” He quietly mumbled as he aimed the keys at the car and pressed the lock button, hearing the sound of the mechanisms working to ensure the car wouldn’t get stolen from the car park. He held his hand out for you to take before he crossed the zebra crossings, giving a silent nod to a car that’d stopped so the two of you could pass.
It was a gentle reminder but also a jest at himself, considering the last time he’d gone to Asda this late, he’d returned home with a new DVD player for your living room, an abundance of on-sale Easter chocolate, and a DIY friendship bracelets set (it was located in the 6 years and over section, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that part.)
The bracelets aforementioned had been tied to your wrists for a month and a half now, yours was a braided black, white and yellow band while his was black, white and red. He somehow matched his outfit, black jogging bottoms, a red Nike hoodie and the best part of all…. socks with sliders. You’d claim that if he wore those out of the house, you’d pretend not to know him, but later decided that it was more endearing than embarrassing. His socks were black with red love hearts printed all over them, some you’d got him for Valentine’s Day as he claimed that “a pair of socks is the best present you could ever buy a man.”
You, on the other hand, wore a pair of black leggings, paired with an extremely worn “Rolling Stones 1979 Tour” acid wash t-shirt. Ben had insisted that you wear one of his jackets, given the fact that your local Asda always seemed to be freezing around this time, so it was topped off with a navy blue Nike Air Max windbreaker. Your fluffy bed socks really pulled the outfit together.
You each had one of Ben’s AirPods in your ear, currently listening to a song by The Lumineers, one that Ben described to you as making him feel as if he was “running down a sandy beach trying to get to you.” His pinky finger slid around your pinky finger as he strayed to the shelter where all the trolleys (shopping carts) were located.
He always pushed the trolley, claiming his driving skills were better than yours, but you knew the only reason he enjoyed pushing them so much was so he could “fly down the aisles”, an act in which he would push the cart extremely fast when there was nobody near you, and lift his feet from the ground, letting the cart take all his weight.
The song ended and changed to a Snoop Dogg song, to which you quirked an eyebrow, asking, “What fucking playlist is this?” with a laugh.
You walked through the sliding doors, Ben already getting distracted by some plants that were on clearance at the front doors, silently placing 2 small plant pots with some sort of pink flower in the middle into the cart.
There was a display as soon as you entered the shop floor, a large green cardboard cut out of the grinch, next to it sitting a handful of Christmas DVD’s, letting all the customers know that they could “Buy 1 Christmas DVD and receive a free 9” pizza”. Ben’s eyes immediately lit up, turning his head towards yours as he exclaimed that Christmas films and food are two of his favourite things ever. You shook your head in disbelief as you picked through the DVD’s, most of them being new and animated films you’d never heard of.
You were looking for one in particular, though you had little faith that it would be in the same pile as these cartoon ones. Ben loved The Nativity, one of the funniest Christmas films in the world, he reckons. He thought Martin Freeman was one of the best actors ever, and that along with Marc Wootton, it had to be the best film ever.
You rifled through the array of cases, finally picking out a white cover that read, “The Nativity!” You placed it in the cart, seeing Ben’s eyes light up as he bounced up and down in excitement, like a child.
“Can we get pepperoni on the pizza? Please!” He whined, earning a “yes” from you, to which he skipped down the aisle and giggled like a schoolboy.
You reached the fridges, Ben picking up 2 pints of milk and putting them in the trolley before giving an accomplished nod.
“Can we ‘ave a look at some vinyls?” He asked, with a pleading pout that he knew always won you over.
“Ooh, yeah actually, Gwil said he wanted the Hamilton vinyl a couple of weeks ago. Might be a good present, yeah?” You suggested, knowing it would result in Ben realising he hadn’t yet bought Christmas presents for any of his friends yet, something you’d been trying to gently remind him of for the last couple of weeks.
You made your way to the music section, getting distracted by anything and everything you could find. Ben was clinging onto a t-shirt with a green dinosaur on it, lit up by Christmas lights with a star on top of its head, the phrase “Tree-Rex” printed underneath it.
He held up the knitted fabric to you, and you both whispered, “Joe.” at the exact same time. It was folded and placed into the cart.
A pack of 250 small Christmas cards was the next thing to grab your attention, Ben telling you that the two of you “had to send the neighbours a card this year, considering the amount of times they’ve had to endure foolish giggles and the creaky bed really late at night!” You’d simply nodded with a chuckle, though he didn’t put them in straight away. He noticed the box had been busted open at the top and went on a hunt for an unopened box. He reached his arm all the way back into the shelf, jokingly asking you to hold his hand so he didn’t get lost. He finally grabbed a pack, throwing them into the trolley from about a meter away and doing a celebratory dance when they went in.
One of the lights overhead flickered, which caused Ben to turn to you with an over-exaggerated gasp, claiming “Asda is haunted!!!!” and running away from you frantically. You guffawed at his antics, lightly jogging after him while trying to catch your breath from laughing.
After collecting your pizza on the way to the music section, Ben made a quick turn down the homeware section. He browsed the cushion cases, holding up a few colours and patterns that he thought may match your living room sofa, all of which received a horrified glare from you (this was the exact reason you didn’t let him take the lead when you decided to start decorating your flat together… his first suggestion was warm brown walls with a stripy turquoise and black sofa…)
He reached the mirror section, finding an extremely large plain mirror, with no frame, slowly running his finger over the edge of it.
“Might buy us this for Christmas.” He stated.
Your brows raised in confusion, tilting your head to tell him you were unsure why he’d said it.
“One of them naughty mirrors…… when you put it on the ceiling so I’d be able to see everything when you’re ridi-“ your hand quickly shot over his mouth, your eyes widening as you took in what he meant. You could feel his lips sporting a smirk beneath your palm. You shook your head and giggled along with him.
“C'mon babe… know you’d love seeing this juicy cheeks every time I’m on top of you…” you lightly smacked his chest and delivered a sharp, yet humorous, “enough!”.
Once you’d finally made it to the music section, Ben appeared to be in his element. He’d picked up the Hamilton vinyl for Gwilym, as well as a new Ariana Grande record for Lucy. He was eyeing up Taylor Swift’s newest release, hoping you wouldn’t notice when he slipped it into the cart. He groaned when you looked him directly in the eyes and shook your head with a knowing smile on your face.
“I was gonna give you that for Christmas! Now you’ve ruined the surprise!” He whined with a pout.
“You are all I want for Christmas.” You replied, already cringing wondering if anyone else had heard you.
He, too, shook his head, but still gave you a quick kiss on the cheek to show his appreciation for you.
The next aisle was the clearance aisle. This was a dangerous one for Ben. His Mum had always taught him “never to pass up a bargain, cause you’ll see it one day, regret not buying it, go back the next day and it’ll be gone!”.
Within 5 minutes of browsing the shelves, he’d picked up a large Christmas-themed Yankee Candle gift set for his brother, a turkey-shaped dog toy for Frankie (this one you’d suggested) as well as a pack of 3 photo frames and a new flower vase for his mum.
Walking to the checkout was always a dangerous game, as the bakery part of the shop was located right next to all the tills. He’d always claim to be “just looking” while you unloaded the trolley onto the moving belt so the cashier could scan your items, and most times he only came back with a box of flapjacks or at the most, 2 jam donuts and a reduced fat chocolate eclair cake.
What you weren’t expecting today, however, was for your boyfriend to return with a basket he’d picked up from somewhere, filled with pastries and cakes that made your mouth water.
“These’ll be alright til Christmas Eve won’t they? Can watch Nativity with our little pizza ‘n then fill ourselves wi’ these after? Yeah?” You didn’t really get a chance to reply before the food was placed down onto the belt. You’d never seen him so happy with himself, thinking he’d just come up with the best idea in the entire world, even though you’d done basically the same thing for the last 2 years of spending Christmas together.
The cashier gave you your total, a whopping £110, even though you’d originally come in for 2 pints of milk, which should’ve brought your total to around…. £3.
He shook his head with a small smile as he took his card out of his wallet, swiping it over the reader and thanking the lady when she gave him his receipt. He rolled the trolley out onto the car park, you following closely behind telling him to unlock the car so you’d be able to hear the beep it made and find it, considering how dark it was outside. After locating the vehicle, he gently placed all the items in the backseat, taking extra care to make sure the pizza was cushioned by Joe’s new shirt and Frankie’s new toy. He dropped the trolley back off at the shelter before getting into the car, strapping his seatbelt and turning the radio on.
Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” filled the speakers, causing Ben to let out a quiet, “What a fuckin’ banger!”.
You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and give him a peck on the cheek and a ruffle of his hair. You simply were having a wonderful Christmas time.
#WILL ADD A KEEP READING LATER I PROMISE !!!!#ben hardy x reader#ben hardy fluff#my work#LUV A GOOD ASDA TRIP
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The Parliamentary Secretaries Association Meeting.
Amelia: *gavel banging* Order! Order! This meeting of the Parliamentary Secretaries Association is now called to order. I President Amelia Chesterfield, presiding along with my Vice President, Hillary Sissons.
Hillary: First order of business on the agenda is old business. We must discuss the budget. We have come into some funding after President Chesterfield’s victory in court over the injuries she attained while working late one evening..
Everyone: Oooooo...
Amelia: Oh shut up. I’ll find you lot in contempt of court and kick you out.
Hillary: Amelia you’re not a judge you can’t forcibly remove people from this association.
Amelia: Sure I can. Bailiff!
-A security guard comes in-
Guard: Yes, Ma’am?
Amelia: Yes..uh. Remove the one in the green and the one in that hideous polyester magenta off the rack atrocity. On the grounds that..well I just don’t like to look at them.
Guard: Of course, Ma’am. -he grabs their arms and takes them out to the hallway-
Amelia: You were saying? -smirks-
Hillary:...Right. We need to go over the budget.
Amelia: -looks over to where it says treasurer and sees no one- What? Where the bloody hell is Tiffany?!
Edith: She’s here today..
Amelia: Oh how, groundbreaking Edith. That really helps us out. Great job!
Hillary: Perhaps she’s ill?
Amelia: Doubt it. I heard she used all her sick days traveling with John MacGregor to Amsterdam. -she made a marijuana cigarette gesture-
-Tiffany comes running in, Looking disheveled-
Tiffany: Im so sorry I lost track of time!...Did I miss much?
Amelia: Yes, Tiffany you missed the entire meeting. We’re all sitting here because we just LOVE eachother.
Tiffany: I’m sorry. Mr.Durant had...things he needed me to take care of.
Everyone ( including Amelia): Ooooo....
Hillary looks at Amelia with a raised brow.
Amelia: “Well when it’s not me, it’s fine. Tiffany we all know what you were doing. We all do it...Maybe except Hillary. Sometimes I wonder. You need to manage your time a lot better. Honestly you get that done when you first to get to work so he’s not overly pent up all day.”
-Everyone shrugs and nods-
Amelia: Now, I could stay here all DAY and impart such pearls of wisdom but I have a job to do, and it’s much more important than anyone else’s.
Hillary: Amelia, Mrs.Thatcher is my BOSS.
Amelia: And?...I mean she’s an amazing woman but she’s not nearly as handsome as Mr.B’Stard. Or..even Jeffery Archer for that matter. Now, Tiffany. We need to go over the budget.
Tiffany: That’s -my- job?
Amelia: Oh my GOD. YES! Tell me you know how much money we have!?
Tiffany: I don’t know. I thought I just collected money and put it in the bag at fundraisers.
Amelia:...Where is “The Bag”?
*Tiffany Shrugs*
Amelia:*inhales sharply* ....You...drive that ..beige Aston Martin parked in lot C, right?
Tiffany: Lot E!
Amelia: *writing that down* Of course. Silly me. Fine then let’s move on to New Business.
Hillary: We need to have a luncheon to welcome the new members of the cabinet.
Amelia: Whoever that is, this week.
Hillary: We want to open the floor up for suggestions.
Amelia: Except from you Edith. Last time you made the entire ministry of defense sick from the lackluster frozen processed horse meat whatever’s you served them. This is British Parliament. Not ASDA.
-Alan stands in the doorway and motions his head for Amelia to come with him-
Amelia; *giggles* Hillary you can take it from here can’t you? I uhm...I need to go dictate...
Hillary: I thought you took care of that when you first got to work?
Amelia: I can’t help it if my job is more demanding than Tiffany’s. Plus my MP isn’t older than Edith’s car.
Alan: Ooo. Good one. I’ll have to reward you for that. *he smacks her rear on the way out*
Hillary: *sighs*...I hate my job.
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GO Whumptober Day 27: Ok, Who had natural disasters on their 2020 Bingo Card?
[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26]
Crowley and Aziraphale emerged from the bed about three days later, Crowley’s heaven hangover suitably decreased enough that he was looking forward to spending some time in the sun outdoors, and Aziraphale’s near-saintlike-patience quite ready to spend at least a little quality time in a proper restaurant, rather than filling his previously book laden side tables with takeaway cartons and the remains of quickly fried cheese toasties.
The world they emerged into, however, was very different than the one they had retreated from.
“Where the hell’d all this bloody snow come from?” Crowley demanded, lifting his feet and shaking them the moment he stepped past the awning over the shop’s front door.
“The sky, I should imagine.” Aziraphale answered distractedly as he locked up, but then he turned around. “Oh. I say, there’s rather a lot of it, isn’t there?”
The Bentley was nearly up to her roof in it, and Crowley groaned in dismay.
“Ugh, that’s terrible for her paint. Hang on, we’ll soon get you out of that.” He addressed the last to the car itself and went about braving the cold to scrape the snow away with his hands-- no doubt turned hotter than usual with a little demonic miracle, judging by how the drifts turned to water and ran away at his touch.
Aziraphale watched, amused.
“You couldn’t use a similar trick on your icy toes?” He asked, remembering the shock of them against his nice warm calves.
“And rob myself of angel heat?” Crowley shot back.
Once the Bentley was nicely defrosted and running at a purr, Crowley stomped the snow down enough to allow Aziraphale to get in. But then they encountered the difficulty of the banks that the snow plow had left-- a veritable wall of snow behind the car that was nearly so tall as she was.
Crowley patted the dash.
“Nothing a little hellfire won’t fix, never you mind.” He assured her, while Aziraphale blanched.
“Crowley! Don’t even joke.”
Crowley lifted one eyebrow above his sunglasses’s rims, and deadpanned, “I never joke.”
Before reversing through the drift.
They all but exploded onto the street behind it, and miraculously there were no cars about to hit them. Or perhaps it wasn’t a miracle; everyone else was simply smarter than to try and brave the weather unnecessarily.
“It’s like the bloody ice ages all over again.” Crowley griped, keeping a careful grip on the wheel and maintaining, for once, an almost reasonable speed.
But the roads were icy, and they had better things to be doing than spending the day miracling themselves and the car back into one piece.
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale fretted, “I do hope the restaurants and shops are open.”
Crowley made a rude noise with his tongue, quite the feat with it being forked at the tip as it currently was.
“They had best be, if they know what’s good for them.” He threatened lowly, and Aziraphale laughed.
“You vicious thing, you’re in quite the mood today.”
“I wanted ssunlight.” Crowley hissed, his sibilant gone serpentine in his petulance.
“My poor cold blooded demon.” Aziraphale mocked softly. “Perhaps a tanning salon will take you.”
Crowley looked so incredibly offended at the suggestion that Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh.
It was another block or two of driving before the mirth bled out into confusion, and then concern.
“I say, Crowley,” Aziraphale began, his voice gone strange with tension. “Have you… actually seen anyone?”
“I’ve seen the same things you have.” Crowley said, “So no.”
There were always people about on the highstreets, and even the roads looked a little ill-kempt, as if they’d been plowed, salted, then left to fend for themselves.
“You don’t think-- I mean, God was here…” Aziraphale couldn’t get the words out around his dawning horror at the thought.
“It’s not another flood.” Crowley said firmly. “Can’t you feel them? They’re around, tucked up in their homes. Staying safe, staying warm.”
Aziraphale reached out-- he’d been afraid to before, he realized. But Crowley was right. Humanity was there, all around them.
“Perhaps we ought to consider doing a bit of the same. Maybe they know something we don’t.”
Crowley agreed, and turned around. They were nearly back to the shop when the first gust hit, sending snow pelting the car like tiny bullets, and sending her rocking as the force of it broadsided her.
“Oy!” Crowley exclaimed, holding tighter to the wheel. “That’s gonna be a pain to be out in.”
That, it turned out, was an understatement.
They got themselves parked, and Crowley miracled up a car coat to help protect the Bentley’s paint from the punishing weather conditions.
Aziraphale had noticed it was cold when they’d gone out originally, but he was only realizing now how cold exactly-- no wonder the humans were inside. He would bet they’d spent the last few days clearing the shelves at asda, too, stocking up on supplies.
They had known about this, and he had missed it because he normally got his news from Crowley.
By the time they got back indoors, they were shivering, immortal occult/angelic beings and all.
“I’ll just put on some tea then, shall I?” Aziraphale asked brightly, pulling a quick miracle out to help make sure his old walls could withstand the gusts outside. The windows were moaning, but they were warm, and safe, and more than capable of waiting it out.
“Could you put a nip of brandy in mine?” Crowley asked, miracling his clothing dry so that he would pose no threat to the books.
Just for that, Aziraphale made it a double.
#GO Whumptober2020#Good omens fic#Aziraphale#Anthony J Crowley#Aziracrow#whumptober#that writing thing I do
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The Dark Side Rises...
I love to watch cosplayers on Youtube, where such luminaries as Adam Savage are inspirational but can provoke the dark side with envy of his access to a machine shop, original props for photos and friends in the movie business.
Let's face it, Adam Savage is the Holy Grail of replica prop building, and he does inspire with the fullness of his heart that other makers follow their hearts and build too. That leads other people into getting their hands dirty and in time they too become leaders in their fields as they show the skills they are developing and designs they have for fabulous replica props from our favourite movie universes. One of the best of these is one I have mentioned before and that is Dan of Buckethead Props, whose gentle fun videos are always inspirational and still show that we can make this stuff at home, with out needing access to a five axis CNC lathe! This is not to say that his stuff is poor quality, if anything the exact opposite is true, his stuff is brilliant and well beyond what I can produce, but he does inspire still.
Recently, Buckethead Props reached a milestone in Youtube subscribers and to celebrate this, they have set up a Lightsabre build challenge and for once, I have decided to give it a go.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z50gt9TTz3w
The rules are very simple, do what ever you like, but you have a budget of only £20. This was something that I thought about at first and then rejected, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to take part in it. A quick comment on his video saw Dan reply with a bit of gentle encouragement to his viewers and I set about designing my sabre.
There are some things I want in a sabre and obviously it has to be Dark Side, which means a red Crystal and red Blade. However, I am also a Rebels fan, so I want a sabre that will fit into their world. That leaves me the sabre of the Inquisitors, of Maul or even Vader himself, but none of them appeal, so I got thinking...
“What would have happened if Ezra had turned to the Dark Side and gone with Maul on Malachor?”
To go down this path, Ezra would have turned his back on Kanan and after Maul had blinded him it is likely that Ezra may have even killed his old master, taking his sabre. Becoming Maul's apprentice in the Darkside, it is possible that they would have followed the rules of the Sith as set out by Darth Bane and eventually when Maul had taught him as much as he could, Ezra would have murdered Maul too.
I call this sabre the Dark Ezra...
As a disabled person, money is tight and the budget of £20 was a big bite out of my monthly spending, especially given that this was effectively to be spent on something that may not even work. So I set about finding as many recyclable materials as possible and with some bits already in stock, I only had six things to purchase for it. The first item I bought was a cheap LED torch for £1.99 and a set of cheap and very low quality bicycle lights from The Range for £3.99. I wanted to fit a sound module for a light sabre and found a cheap child's toy on Amazon for £4.99. I purchased a steel bolt for a few pence from our local engineers suppliers. I also purchased a solar powered garden light for under a pound. The last (or rather the first, although I did not know it at the time) thing was a toy pistol from Poundland, however I bought this for a costume about five years ago and I have no idea if these are still available and this was used for the sound board again.
My first task was to set about the wiring, taking the lights apart and dismantling the toy sabre too, before I attacked them with my soldering iron. Which resulted in my first major mistake when attaching batteries to the sword sound module and turned the main chip to ash. That was £4.99 wasted and left me feeling annoyed with myself, for attaching the leads the wrong way around. This was despite photographing the board so that I could see the wiring.
Putting the wiring to the side for a while, I set about constructing the chassis of the sabre and it was here that I really wanted a blaster built into the hilt, just like Ezra's first sabre. I had some old wood in the scrap pile, purchased months and years before to build a cage for our pet owl... More on her later. The scraps of wood were from the cheapest wood we could use to build the cage, unfinished beams for holding up plasterboard, cheap off cuts and recycled bits from the shed. This left me with two small offcuts, a piece of 30x75mm and a piece of 30x30mm. Using chisels and a craft knife, I took the corners off of the 30x30 for the handle, turning it into a lovely octagonal shape that fitted beautifully into my hand. I also hollowed out the other piece of wood to allow for the fitting of a crystal and the electronics.
It has been many years since I last used woodworking tools and I now bare the scars of trying to use such fine tools, with hands damaged by arthritis caused by years of extreme sport. What would have taken an accomplished woodworker no more than an hour or so, took me three fabulously enjoyable days, despite the damage I did to myself! The mess was delicious with wood shavings everywhere and the grin on my face was worth every second of it even when it came time to clean up the mess I had made. With the wood sanded back I set about finding some recyclable items that I could use and the first thing to hack apart was some broken 1990s Sony Hi-Fi equipment, from which I salvaged some micro-switches and a lot of thin, nasty cables. I did think about using the laser from the CD drive, but I was worried that I could blind someone with it, if I ever managed to make the driver work. With that idea scrapped, I salvaged some very old LEDs (which I never used in the end) and some buttons and dials that could have made some interesting greeblies. I was given some offcuts from from a plumbing job, none of which were of use to a plumber. I had some screws that came from the Hi-Fi and some strips of plastic that I could cut up. I did think about using the circuit boards, but the Hi-Fi kit was very old and dusty and frankly the resistors were almost the same size as my sound modules! The majority of this thing was going to be built from second hand junk and scrap.
The handle was perfect to hide the battery compartment and the torch came with three AAA batteries, which are the cheapest nastiest calls I have ever seen, but given that they cost me nothing, I used them. The bolt became the positive terminal and using parts from the HI-Fi I was able to make the negative terminal in the handle. I used old cables to run the power to the crystal chamber and then I had to make the crystal.
The Crystal was a challenge, I wanted something red that would emit red light and all I had were a set of bicycle lights, until I damaged another board with my soldering iron. This was the board that ran the rear light, which was a small strip of red LEDs powered by two AAA cells. I wanted to extend the LEDs from the board into the crystal chamber, but a momentary switch started giving me problems and I almost gave up with the idea, until I decided that the crystal from the garden light worked a lot better. A white LED from the front light gave the blade aperture a nice red glow when coated with glass paint and the LED from the torch attached to the sound board from the toy pistol gave me a blaster effect that I really enjoyed. With no further electronics needed, it just needed to be put together and soldered into place...
I very nearly buggered it all up when I got confused with my wiring and after a couple of days of sulking (resting from the flu), I worked it out and set it all in place, carefully covered up and with the speaker from the pistol making the appropriate pew pew noises from out of the side of the blaster. The LED from the torch shone out through the small barrel that I had drilled into the wood and capped with the bezel of the torch.
I wanted to paint the sabre, but I also wanted it to look beaten up and well used, so I wrapped it with a small piece of ASDA tin foil and painted on top of that with no undercoat. Once the paint had dried, I was able to scratch it and make it look aged and used, especially once I had applied a bit of weathering too. I should also add that given that I had bought the toy sabre for the sound board, which I broke, I still had to use a bit of it to make the expense worthwhile. So I chopped the top off the damn thing, which turned out to be made from the cheapest plastic going. Given how much this thing cost me, I had expected a little better from it, but such is the way when you buy the cheapest shit on Amazon. Again this was painted, weathered and made to look manky.
I used the body of the front light to make the end of the handle and cover up the engineering bolt and attached to this I made a hanger from some old washers. It was then that I had a flash of inspiration. If Dark Esra had killed Kanan and Maul, maybe he would have taken the crystals from their sabres and attached them to his own as trophies, a lovely dark thought. It still needed something though and then I thought about the Loth-Owls that had followed Ahsoka around on Lothal, what if Esra had caught one and taken its feathers? So I set about our pet owl Alby with with a set of clippers! Don't worry, that is a joke, my other half keeps nice feathers when she sheds them, which happens occasionally. I wrapped the feather stems with wire salvaged from the Hi-Fi, weathered them with some paint and attached them to the hilt.
With that, I was done. It sounds so easy when typed out like this, but it took me ages and I loved every dark second of it, even when I buggered it up. I just need to total up my expenses and then work out how to use Instagram so that I can submit my entry to the competition. Ahhh, the things that these younglings do!
LED torch - £1.99
Bike lights - £3.99
Laser sword - £4.99
Garden light - £0.89
Engineering bolt - £0.75
Toy gun - £1.00
Paper - £0.10
ASDA tin foil fragment - £0.10
Solder - £1.00
Owl Feathers - Lots of cuddle
Broken Hi-Fi
Piece of copper pipe
Scrap wire
Old bicycle grip tape off cut - All free
Torn leather jeans leg
Scrap wood
Final cost £14.81 and lots of owl cuddles
If you want to take part in this, go and give Buckethead Props some love, subscribe to their channel, watch their videos and get involved. After all, you only get one life and your Lightsabre is your soul!
#Star Wars#Lightsaber#Lightsabre#Buckethead Props#Cosplay#star wars rebels#Maker#adam savage#home made#Dark Side#ezra bridger#darth maul
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Can you rec a few fics that are not appreciated enough? Like.. proper good ones with good writing and stuff.. Because there are so many fics who get so much attention and it's so cool but then there are fics which are honestly really really good, too, but nobody even knows them. And that's a bit sad. The authors are amazing and I think most of them don't even know that. Soooo.. let's get all those authors the attention they deserve!!!
sure! you can check on our hidden gems tag and previous posts about underrated fics 1 / 2
just like that by justemma
Zayn likes watching Liam play rugby.
Doctor Doctor by orgaziam
Zayn doesn't know whether he should thank Louis or kill him.
Based loosely off of the prompt, "I fell down and now I'm on the floor and my friend has a bad sense of humor and called out 'is anyone here a doctor?' and now you're trying to save me."
Not Fade Away by biggrstaffbunch
Liam wants something to keep. Zayn has a lot to give.
Somehow, they muddle along.
Make Up For by JoMouse
For Zayn, it's always been Liam.
Relight My Fire by LibbyWrites
Loving Lieutenant Liam Payne was always the easy part, from day one.The hard part was dealing with the fact that he was never going to be loved back.
It's Always Been You by livingforamiracle
An AU where Liam consistently goes on bad dates only to realize that his favorite dates are the ones where he's holed up in his flat with his best friend Zayn.
From a Mirror by supercalifragili
The idea was really simple sex, really slow and excruciatingly languorous sex, Zayn promised on the phone.
The Sound of Silence by JoMouse
Zayn likes things quiet.
you put your arms around me and i'm home by ellisaco
"So, uh, any idea where we are?" Liam asks, because Zayn is in charge of navigation, always. Liam still sometimes gets lost in London if Zayn isn't there to steer him right. Which, like, that shouldn't be endearing, right? Certainly if Harry called Zayn up on his day off at ten am to ask where the closest ASDA to Zayn's house was, his first reaction would not be to smile at his mobile.
or: Zayn and Liam go on an ice cream date in Madrid.
A happy ending by Comet
Zayn is a masseur at a resort and Liam's neck hurts.
i'd rather die like this by ziamsquad (locked)
prompt: imagine your opt stuck in an elevator after a fight
We'll Go Slow by Ziamsession
This one shot based on a prompt I got from an anon"could you write an inexperienced zayn wants to have sex with liam (b!z if it's ok) an he wants to make it perfect and tries to prepare himself for liam's cock, tries to ride liam but fails... a lot of giggles and an embarrassed zayn but everything gets better when liam helps him and they make love PLEASEEEEEEE"
The Boy Next Door by happily_missy
Zayn and Liam are next door neighbors but they are worlds apart.
Or the Drive Me Crazy AU that no one asked for but I desperately needed
we should have each other with cream by coffeewordangel
Zayn is convinced his new neighbor is harboring a forbidden cat.
got your body on my mind by coffeewordangel
Fill for ziamminds excellent prompt that Jas brought to my attention:
Yoga was not Zayn's thing. The only thing keeping him from walking out of that class is his super hot instructor Liam Payne.
This Land is Mine, I Let You Rule by missberrycake
In which the life Liam and Zayn share together is one founded on lies and deceit.
When two first-class spies get married, they each have to hide their secret from the other. After they’re both assigned to the same target, the truth is finally revealed. Free from their cover, they have to learn to love each other all over again.
i'm not crazy, i'm just a little unwell by redsweater
“You need to get over the fact we haven’t shared everything together babe,” Liam mumbles tired.
Zayns shakes his head, “I do not. Couples must experience everything together. I know smoking our first cigarette together is stupid, but it makes me happy considering I didn’t get drunk with you my first time, nor did I lose my virginity to you.” Zayn gives Liam a pointed look, like he dares him to say something about that topic.
zayn is special, and liam's in love
you (put this spell on me) by outofcases (poppyseedheart)
"What part of ‘don’t touch that’ did you not understand?" asks Zayn, eyes full of fire. He’s standing dangerously still in front of Liam, and while they both know that all of this is a front for how worried and potentially freaked out he is, his anger is still searing hot.
Liam shifts from foot to foot, chastened. His hands are twisted up in front of him, fidgeting, and he’s trying not to break Zayn’s eye contact. ”I didn’t think anything would happen.”
Zayn sighs a long suffering sigh and runs a hand down his face, mumbling something Liam can’t fully hear. It sounds suspiciously like “famous last words.”
Altar'd Perception by Edjumacashun
Zayn finds himself uncontrollably attracted to a goofy, naive, lamb of a boy. As he tries to rationalize his way around this relationship, Liam throws his expections for a loop at every turn.
until the stars are all alight by orphan_account
Liam is a retired former astronaut with the World Space Agency in the year 2134. He was once the ace pilot and pride of Britain until tragedy pushed him out of the service. He's approached by astrophysicist Louis to join a crew that's being assembled to go rescue an astronaut left on the Mars Space Station. This is Zayn Malik. Liam is the only pilot available with the experience necessary to fly a mission to a damaged station.
Slowish burn.
You Can Hear It In The Silence by orphan_account
Five times Zayn and Liam didn't have to say anything at all and the one time they did anyway.
Over Five Months by ZaynCentric
au fic where liam is the popstar and zayn is his uni boyfriend who likes to embarras him when he comes off tour by waiting with all the other fangirls with homemade signs
i hope i'm gonna be by weareonceinalifetime
Five times Zayn kisses Liam on the forehead and one time Liam kisses Zayn.
happy accidents by imstephtacular
“Hi, I, uh…” a voice accompanying a knock at Zayn’s door stammers. Zayn approaches the door and, peering out, sees his neighbor— Lance? Lucas? Landon? he cannot remember honestly and he really never thought to ask— wincing as he clutches his stomach. “I’m, uh, Liam, I live…” he grimaces.
“Next door,” Zayn finishes, opening the door. “Yeah, I’ve seen you out running and at the mailboxes. “Are…are you okay, mate?” Liam’s expressions are obvious ones of discomfort as Liam attempts to respond, he lurches forward, clawing for the doorframe to steady himself.
Liam yelps in pain and Zayn leans to help him. “Wow, okay, what’s wrong?” Liam is still gripping his stomach and Zayn can see he is visibly in agony.
“I think…it’s…my…” Liam’s breathing gets heavy, punctuated. “Appendix,” he manages, flinching as yet another shot of pain spreads through his stomach.
OR: Liam is Zayn's neighbor but they've never really been introduced until Liam knocks on Zayn's door, doubled over in pain, and Zayn is terrible in a crisis
I Know The Sound Of Your Heart by LibbyWrites
Liam always adored the peace and quiet of his neighborhood. Until a new neighbor shows up and turns his world upside down with much more than just loud music.
A Million Different Ways by unfortunate17
They work for the Soul Agency and Zayn’s soul always meets Liam’s soul.
i'll go for you with everything i've got by wafflehood (locked)
In which Louis and Harry are definitely in cahoots, Niall is probably sworn to secrecy, Liam has been waiting a while, and Zayn makes a grand romantic gesture.
eyes on you eyes on me by cptniall
“i needed a drink of water after my shower but i forgot that i opened the blinds to my balcony and you just saw me walk into my kitchen nakedaka liam’s hot neighbour teaches him the value of discretion whilst also complimenting him on his massive weiner
Together Making One by zenamored
Another thing he really likes about being with Zayn—he’ll never go hungry while he’s around.
Four times Zayn cooks for Liam and one time Liam returns the favor.
#me going thru my history on ao3 lol#i've been reading stuff sorted by kudos#most of these have less than 150 kudos so i reckon they are not appreciated enough#Anons#eat my ask
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I see, a bad moon rising
I see, trouble on the way.
BAD MOON RISINGI see, a bad moon a-rising. see, trouble on the way.
Music on the car stereo, echoing through the hills and valleys, gliding over the water.
We’re camping.
Ben picks me up around ten in the morning, which is early for us. I throw a sleeping bag and a Diadora bag of clothes in the boot and we head to Antonio’s as I call shotgun and get in the front. We were out drinking last night, and this morning Ben is feeling rough.
“Where did ye go last night?” Ben said.
“Aw, I had too much to drink, man. I just wandered home pissed.” I did that sometimes, just left without saying goodbye, when I realised I’d had too much to drink and needed to lie down.
“Good night?” I said.
“Aw mate, I wound up in the toilet, just standin in the bath wi Helen and Kate an the two of them get aff wi each other, right in front of me.”
“No way.” I said.
“Aye, and then they let me join in.”
“Fuck off!”
He was actually telling the truth.
“Seriously.”
“Aye, right.”
Ben did not like it when people did not believe his stories. “I did. And! And! I got aff wi Amy as well later on. Three burds in one night.”
He was not telling the truth about that. Not according to Amy anyway.
“Wait, I thought Xander was firing into Helen?”
“Well he fuckin…wisnae in the bath wis he?” Ben starts laughing. “Aw man, I’m dyin for a shite.”
We pull up at Antonio’s and he blasts the horn.
“Ask Antonio if you can use his toilet.”
“I cannae do that man.”
“How not?”
“His Maw’s in. She’ll kill me if I destroy her toilet.”
“So, what are you gonna do?”
Five minutes later, I’m standing around the back of the garages across from Antonio’s house, while Ben has snuck into a delapidated garage that has the door kicked in and is full of broken bottles and empty crisp packets. Somewhere in the back of the garage he is squatting down and pushing out the hangover shite from hell. I’m meant to be keeping the edgy but instead I’m peeing up against a bush with one hand and cracking my first beer of the day open on a nearby wall with the other hand. Well, it’s my holidays!
“David!” he cries out in alarm.
“What?”
“David!!” He isn’t listening.
“What is it mate?”
With genuine fear, he asks “How am I gonnae wipe ma arse?”
After I’ve finished spitting my beer all over the bushes in a fit of laughter, I said. “Want me to get you some leaves or something?”
“There’s no leaf big enough for this man.”
“Some newspaper?”
“Fuck off! Newspaper’s jaggy, it’ll cut me tae ribbons.”
“Are you seriously, squatting, in a reekin of piss, shitty old garage and have the cheek, the audacity, to start getting all precious about the quality of your arse wiping material?”
…
“Can ye go and ask Antonio for some bog roll?”
“So you won’t ask to use his toilet, but you’ll have me chapping his door to ask for some toilet paper, so that he, and his mum, and the whole street, know you’ve defecated in a garage across the road?”
“Aye.”
The neck of some people.
“An make sure it’s the good Andrex stuff, none ae yer ASDA’s own pish. I’m awfy delicate back there.”
So I had to chap Antonio’s door and ask his mum for a roll of her finest Andrex luxury quilted toilet roll, so that I could launch it into a dirty stinking garage across the road and Ben could scramble about in the dark to find it with his trousers around his ankles and finally wipe his arse and come out smiling.
Half an hour later we were on the road, having picked up Xander and stopped off at Lidl to fill the boot with crates of five quid French lager. You know the wee stubby bottles? We had about eight cases of those, and eight bottles of Buckfast. Antonio had with him a bottle of Absinthe, we’d never tried it before and apparently it could cause you to have hallucinations. At 90% proof, you’re damn right we were gonna have a few cheeky shots on the way there. Not Ben though, he drove while the rest of us were wiring into cans of Tennents and bottles of Merrydown for the road.
“You’re a clatty bastard!” said Xander, when we told him about Ben.
“Aye, wait till you find out what he did in he bath with your Helen.” I laugh.
Ben draws me a look for dropping him in it and the back and forth piss-taking continues as we make our way up into the campsie hills.
We make a pit stop at the car park in the sky, in the campsie glen, near the waterfalls. The four of us stood on a wall, staring out over the towns below, the hills, the sky, the world at our feet, as we take a pish off the edge.
My dad used to bring us here when we were little, to see the view and roam the hills and waterfalls and chase sheep. I don’t remember the stink of pish but I do remember thinking if we climbed any higher, we would be able to touch the clouds. One time my little brother Jamie tried to jump a burn and fell in. My dad had to climb into the ditch and lift him out and once again he had to sit shivering, cold and wet in the car all the way home — you think we would have learned to bring towels and a change of clothes.
Then of course, we came back here many times as teenagers, when we wanted somewhere to drive. Ben or Xander would pile us all into their cars and we would come up here drunk and wander around in the pitch dark, looking out over the hills at the thousands of tiny lights in the distance. Just up from the car park, there is a bunker that justs out of the hill, you can walk around the back of it where the hill is steeper and climb on to the roof, or at the front it’s just a gaping hole and inside is full of rocks and litter and empty bottles. In the dark, on a hillside in the middle of nowhere, when you’re full of the drink, a bunker like that can look pretty spooky and many a time, Ben or Xander or Kirsten or someone would dare me to run up the hill and go inside the bunker. I would always do it. Never said no to a dare, that’s me. I could only spend a few seconds inside the bunker, in the dark with whatever lurked in the hills, before I freaked myself out and came running back down the hill. Or rolling back down the hill depending how drunk I was.
One time, we told Kirsten about the legend of the Campsie Clobber, a hideous beast, part-bear, part-man, part-monster, who roamed the hills of the Campsie Glen looking for drunken teenage lovers, making out in their cars in the carpark in the sky, so he could eat them whole. We told her how, many times, the Park Rangers (was there even Park Rangers in the Campsie Glen?) would find abandoned cars in the morning, with claw marks embedded in the door of the car, seat covers torn to shreds and blood on the windshield. But no bodies were ever found. People said though, that if you dug deep enough through the rocks in that bunker on the hill, you would find the bones of those teenagers, for that is where the Campsie Clobber sleeps after he feeds. Kirsten used to beg us to stop terrifying her with that story, I think we made it up when we took her up there one time and found a random pair of shoes, abandoned, just sitting there on the wall, in the car park in the sky, no one to claim them. Maybe we weren’t far from the truth.
We set off on the rest of our journey, travelling acros the Campsie Glen, it seemed there were no other cars for miles and the fog was rolling across the hills making everything look sort of eerie. I mentioned the time we wound Kirsten up about the Campsie Clobber.
“Haha, aye that wis good.” Antonio said.
“It’s no the Campsie Clobber ye need tae worry aboot where we’re gaun though.” said Xander, from the back of the car.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the Hag of Loch Achray ye want tae worry yersel aboot.”
“What’s Loch Achray?”
“That’s where we’re going.” said Ben.
“It was back mibbe a hunner or so year ago. Apparently, there usetae be an auld wummin, called Auld Greta, that lived in a wee cabin oan the side ae the loch, just across from where we’re campin actually..”
“What would you know about a hunner year ago, ya dick?” Ben said.
“Ah’ve been campin there loads of times wi ma Da an he told me.”
“I’ve never heard of a family of Turks going camping.” I said.
“Fuck off, Dumbo.”
I forgot to mention my ears stick out a little.
“Yer Da dis look a hunner year old, though mate.” Antonio said.
Xander ignored us and carried on. “Auld Greta, or the Hag of Loch Achray as she wis known, was an auld wummin, who lived alone in the woods, an all the villagers suspected she wis a witch. They said, she had eyes that glowed bright green in the dark, that’s how she could make her way through the woods at night.”
We stopped making fun of the story and listened for a bit, Xander was good at telling stories like this.
“At the time, a lotta wee kids were goin missin fae the village an the people though Greta wis kidnappin them an sacrificin them tae her pagan Gods. One night, they all got the gether an stormed her cabin, but when they got there, the loch wis covered in smoke an they could see fire, burnin brightly, in the windaes of her cabin an worse still, they heard the screams ae all the weans. Greta had heard the people were comin and she tried to dispose ae the children by feeding them intae her huge oven. One by one.”
We made our way through the moors, fog thick on all sides, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and the rest of us were completely silent as Xander continued.
“Greta tried tae escape, but in the thick smoke surroundin the cabin, she wandered oot intae the water. The people chased her, an she swam oot tae try an escape. The loch’s filled wi reeds though, the entire waterbed is piled wi knotted reeds that pull ye down. She got caught in one, oot there in the middle of the loch, an she couldnae get free. But nobody went to help her. Her screams could be heard across the entire loch, as she called oot through the smoke, an as she tired, she started tae swallow more an more water, until her screams became gargles an bit by bit her lungs filled wi water an she sank lower an lower intae the reeds. She drowned tae death, an sank tae the bottom ae the loch.”
“Dae witches no float?” Antonio said.
“Shut up, you.” Ben said, from the driver’s seat.
“So, we should be able to see her cabin from where we’re camping then?” I was skeptical.
“That’s just it, the cabin burnt doon. But people say that sometimes weans still go missin an if ye go oot tae the loch at night, oan the anniversary ae her death, a thick fog rolls over the loch, like a blanket of smoke,”
He said that because there’s fog outside, he’s trying to scare us.
“An through the fog, ye can see her cabin oan the other side ae the loch, still there, fires burnin in the windaes, the screams ae the children inside.”
“Fuckin dark mate.” Antonio said.
“An if ye make the mistake ae goin intae the loch, an swim oot too far, ye hear a garglin sound an she swims up tae meet ye. An the last thing ye see, is a pair ae glowin green eyes, afore she pulls ye doon, intae the depths, tae stay wi her — forever.”
Silence, and then.
“BOOOO!” Xander shakes and rattles my seat and starts laughing.
He’s so full of shit. I remember now, when we were about ten years old, he told me a similar story. Auld Greta was a witch who lived in a shed out by the old ironworks, across the railway. If you went during the day, the shed was run down and falling apart, but if you crossed the railway line at night, you’d see a gaslit-lamp burning in the window of the shed and Auld Greta would come running out and chase you, and if she caught you she’d take you down into the old mines with all the other missing children, and keep you there forever. Many a time Xander tried to wake me up at night to go down the railway line and find Auld Greta, I always said I’d go but never did. He was good at telling the story though.
We continued our journey, tunes blaring and cans of lager getting tanned as Ben drove us over hills and glens and down the other side. We took gulps of Absinthe from the bottle as the car winded down country roads, until we reached the town of Callander, where we stopped to stretch our legs, check out the area, get our barings and see if there were any campsites nearby. This is what I love about Glasgow, drive twenty minutes out of the city and you’re surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable. An hour from the city and you find yourself in quaint little towns like Callander, where they probably hate scum like us turning up, swigging Tennents lager from the car and peeing on their good rose bushes.
Having stretched our legs, emptied our bladders, and scoped out a chip shop for tonight’s dinner, we climbed back in the car and made the short drive from Callander to Loch Achray, where we settled ourselves for the night. There was a sign saying ‘No Camping’ and we were right by the side of the road, but we didn’t care. There was a small pebble beach, there was a soft flat area for the tent, and a little creek that ran into the loch, where we could submerge out bottles of Buckfast in the water and leave them to get nice and cold, without them disappearing into the loch itself. We opened a few bottles of beer and emptied the car.
“Right!” Antonio said, as he cracked the lid off his bottle. “Where’s the gash?”
Someone must have told him there was going to be plenty of talent hanging about Loch Achray, he was going to be mighty disappointed.
It was decided that as Xander had been camping before, he and Antonio would set up the tent and Ben and I would drive back in to town and pick up the chippy dinner. We took the orders from everyone and headed back in to town. Two fish suppers, one hamburger supper, one sausage supper and a couple of pickles later we got back to find the tent half-built and those two idiots nowhere to be seen.
Now, I don’t know if it was the ten cans each on the way here, or the fresh country air, or maybe Antonio’s Absinthe was taking effect, but nature had taken a funny effect on Xander and Antonio when we finally found them.
Xander was naked except for a pair of skimpy speedos, lying on his back, on a flat piece of rock near the water, eyes closed, making ‘ohm’ like meditation sounds.
“Whit are you doin mate?’ Ben said.
“Ahm blendin in tae ma surroundins, camo-style.”
“Mate, you’ve got dayglo body paint smeared all over ye, you’ve got lumi-yellow speedos on and you’re shoutin ‘ohm’ over an over at the top of yer lungs. Who exactly are you hidin fae?” Ben said.
He took off his sunglasses and looked at us, in all seriousness, and said “Antonio.”
“How, what’s he going to do?” I said.
Xander pointed to the waters edge, where Antonio was wearing only a pair of shorts with socks and sandals and he was indeed sharpening branches and forming what looked like a bow and arrow, whilst muttering to himself, and I can’t say for sure, but he did have a look about him that said he was about to cook him up some city boys.
Once they had their chippy dinner in them, they seemed to calm down and together we built the tent. It was a four-man tent that Ben’s uncle had gave us. For future reference, four-man means; two men comfortably, four men; very uncomfortably. We wiped our greasy salt & vinegar fingers on our clothes, tanned our tiny beers and like loutish city folk we launched the empty bottles into the loch, trying to see who could throw them the furthest.
It was Xander.
It was now my turn to be bursting for a shite and so I went off into the trees to find a quiet spot. I took the quilted Andrex with me. When I came back they all thought it was hilarous to keep saying, “Does a bear shit in the woods? I dunno, but David does.” Laugh all they want but I was feeling better for having done my hangover shite and just to be safe I had buried it incase there was somehow bears back in Scotland or worse yet, wolves, or Campsie Clobbers.
As the sun went down and the night got colder, we gathered twigs and branches and started a fire. Xander almost burnt his eyebrows off as he was lying on his front trying to blow on the flames to help the fire get started, when Antonio launched a can of Lynx Africa into the fire and it exploded and sent the flames leaping up into the air and shards of aluminium shooting past Xander’s head.
The bottles of Buckfast in the wee creek had chilled nicely, so I put my second bottle in to chill whilst I took my first one to drink. There was a tiny little pier, made of thin logs that jutted about six feet out into the water, so I kicked my shoes off on the pebble beach, rolled up my trousers and waded out to sit on the end of the pier, whilst I drank my wine and looked up at the stars. Travel an hour out of the suburbs and the city and you see just how full of stars the sky really is. Makes you feel pretty small in the grand scheme of things.
Xander and Ben were sitting comparing notes on Helen by the fire. A group of local teenagers had made camp a bit further along, they had pulled up an hour ago in a red van and Antonio was over chatting to them and sharing their weed as they played dance tunes from the car radio and lit fireworks that exploded above our heads.
I sat on the makeshift pier, contemplating life and the grand scheme of things and for a moment felt at one with nature and content in my place amongst all of God’s creatures — and then my shoes floated past me.
The tide must have come in and had caught up with my trainers which had been discarded on the sand and now my Segrio Tacchini’s were floating past me into the middle of the loch. Without thinking I stood up and waded in after them, which was fine for the first couple of feet but after two or three footsteps, the floor of the loch takes a steep drop into nothingness and I disappeared under the water.
When I resurfaced, gasping for air, I had drifted out into the loch and Xander, Ben and Antonio were standing on the shore shouting after me. My trainers were in the distance, floating toward the middle of the loch, I had always been a relatively strong swimmer so I wasn’t worried, but swimming when heavily drunk, probably wasn’t advisable. Splashing around like a drunken seal, I swam further out into the loch. With each reach and splash, I pushed my trainers further and further away. Eventually, I managed to grab hold of one and then the other, and with a trainer in each hand I started to make my way back to shore.
It was then that I noticed that the smoke from the fireworks had drifted across the loch and it was now hard to see the shore in the distance, but I could hear the lads, screaming and shouting at me from the beach. They looked pretty animated but I was too far away and all I could make out was “SWIM!” and “HURRY!” and “BEHIND YOU!”
So, I’m treading water, God knows how many feet there is between me and the floor of the loch below, I slowly turn and out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of it, a dark shape, two bright green glowing eyes, bobbing in the darkness, only maybe ten to twenty feet behind me.
I turned for shore and start swimming like never before, a shoe in each hand, arm over arm, legs kicking life my life depended on it.
“Come on! Faster!” they shout from the shore.
Water filled my lungs with every stroke as I’m too drunk to breathe properly whilst swimming.
“It’s catchin you! Hurry!”
So much water splashing in my face, I can’t tell if I’m swimming toward the shore or toward whatever thing is chasing me.
“It’s right behind you!”
I dared not look, a crocodile, a shark, the loch ness monster, the campsie clobber — the Hag of Loch Achray. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to know until I was safe on the shore.
I felt something touch my leg as I kicked out and that was enough to give me the last burst of energy I needed to swim fast enough to shore. I burst out of the water and stumbled on to the pebble beach, falling to the ground, clutching my shoes and gasping for air.
I made it.
I survived.
And my friends…are…laughing.
I sit up and notice that my friends can’t even stand they’re laughing that hard. Antonio is doubled over on the ground, howling with so much laughter that he’s in pain. ‘Quick!’ they laugh. ‘Hurry!’ they laugh. ‘It’s…haaahahahha…behind you!’
It’s a bottle.
A single, solitary, green stubby bottle. A bottle that used to hold French bier from Lidl. The light from the fireworks must have glinted off of the green glass and looked like glowing eyes, and the bobbing up and down in the water looked like a head.
I had just outswam, a beer bottle.
I stripped off my soaking wet clothes in the tent and changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, then pulled a hoody over me to keep warm and had to wear a pair of Ben’s football socks instead of shoes. I left my wet clothes and shoes to dry on the rocks and opened my second bottle of wine.
Bastards.
Eventually, Ben and Antonio fell asleep in the tent. Every so often, loud farts erupted from within. t was Xander and me left sitting on the beach, looking out across the water and up at the stars, drinking the last of the beers and talking about life.
It was always me and Xander.
The last ones standing.
The music on the radio,
fades into the night,
gliding across the water.
I see, a bad moon a-rising.
I see, trouble on the way.
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Manchester soundcheck 27/10/2018
Okay so this is gonna be hella long and I’m sorry if it’s rambley!
So they played valentine after asking us how it felt to be VIP’s 😂
They all sat down with tea and Michael kicked a wire and two of the lights on the ground started flickering and Calum was laughing about it being a melfunction.
Calum then laughed that there was a chicken nugget on the floor and they were shouting at a crew member asking if it was him. I think one of cashton blamed Michael but he said “I’m a vegetarian!” And then they were just laughing that it was bad stage hygiene 😂
Question 1
“if you could go back and tell your 2012 self anything, what would it be?”
Luke said “I’d tell myself the world wasn’t going to end”
Mashton laughed and they both said something about “that awful movie had us all scared”
Calum asked “what movie?” and Ashton said “well it was called 2012 Calum” and they all laughed.
Ashton (seemingly out of nowhere?) announced that he and Michael shared a room back then. They agreed that that was cool.
Michael (again seemingly out of nowhere?) said Calum’s bed broke and he and Ashton told the story of when they went to Asda to buy like 80 toilet rolls to prop up Calum’s bed because a new bed wasn’t in the budget. Micheal laughed that over time Calum’s bed sank as they kept stealing toilet rolls from under it. Calum said “yeah, sometimes I’m the middle of the night I’d hear rummaging under my bed and it’d be one of these guys getting toilet paper!”
Ashton then said “didn’t it break in the first place because I bodyslammed you?”
They all laughed and talked about creating a wrestling ring onstage and bodyslamming each other. Michael said “no one in this band has been bodyslammed for a long time!” And Ashton turned to him and Luke and said “I think you two are due a bodyslam”
Michael said he’d tell his 2012 self to not eat as much McDonald’s. Luke said “yeah that stuff’s poison”
Question 2
“Are any of you morning people? Who’s the best person to be around in the morning?”
Micheal said that Calum’s the most consistent person in the mornings. The rest of them are either their best or worst selves.
Luke said that when he’s not touring he likes to have a nice morning routine and a jog and stuff but when he is touring it’s like their work day starts late “our work day just started when we played Valentine” and Ashton laughed and added “yeah we’ve just walked into the office!”
Question 3
OUR QUESTION!!! (This is gonna be a long personal ramble-sorry in advance!)
@mermaidcashton asked it because I was too scared 😂 they asked what her name was and when she replied Claire, Luke said “ahhh you have a very successful chain of stores.” And Ashton said “I got my ears pierced at a Claire’s like 6months ago and I was behind a like a 6 month old baby in the queue!” Then Michael asked “what’s your question?”
Claire said “well actually it’s mine and my wife’s question, she’s over there in front of Michael”
They asked where I was and when they spotted me Michael and Luke waved and said hi (I’m Still internally screaming). Luke asked “why are you so far apart?” Claire answered “because we had to decide who was asking you the question and I won” And they were all like “ooohhhhhh!!” And Ashton asked “how’d that go down” and Luke swivelled in his seat to look at me and said “is there tension?” And Claire (ever the opportunist) said “no but part of why spent all this money to be here is so I can tell you that we have don’t stop on our wedding video!” They all laughed and Luke asked “how’d that work? Were you frolicking through flowers while it plays?”
Claire said “no it’s over all the people dancing at night time”
Michael said “ahhh that makes sense I guess!”
Ashton said “thanks for my invite, by the way!”
Michael added “yeah it’s not like I wanted to come or anything...”
Luke asked “so do you have a question?”
Claire said “yeah it’s about 5sos4, what can we expect like influences, similarities and differences to Youngblood?”
Ashton answered “I think you can expect more influences like our queen cover that came out yesterday, did you hear that?” And everyone screamed. He continued “work starts officially on it in January next year, it’s not gonna take 3 years this time!” He mentioned that their current recording contract ends next month and they’re looking a lot more on being more involved in absolutely everything from the merch to how stuff is delivered and presented to us. He said they already do a lot of all of that but with each album they wasn’t to do more and more. He ended his answer by saying “that’s my plan... OUR plan...”
Question 4
“If you could live anywhere for the rest of your life where would you go and why?”
Luke started off sensibly saying it’d depend on whether he was in the band or not. “If I’m in the band then LA, if I want to go home and be Australian then Sydney, if I want to be like off the grid away from technology...” but then Michael interrupted him by yelling saying “Abu Dhabi” over him a few times until Luke finally said “I was gonna day the Bahamas or something...”
Michael said “so not Abu Dhabi” And Ashton asked why he kept saying “Abu Dhabi” and asked if he wanted to go there. Michael said “yeah... no. I’d choose LA, Sydney or Tokyo”
Ashton had made it clear he had an answer ready so Michael thought it was funny to say “what about you Calum?”
Calum said Sydney although Michael kept saying something about a pub? Like he thought Calum would choose a pub? (I couldn’t make him out clearly hahaha)
Ashton said he’d choose Iceland because he can see himself getting involved in deep sea fishing. Michael laughed and said that’d drive Ashton crazy.
Question 5
“What’s your favourite thing about Manchester?”
One girl was pointing to herself and Luke said “you’re my favourite thing about Manchester” and Ashton shouted at him for stealing his answer. The girl said “I’m not even from Manchester” and Luke did an impression of her!
(I can’t remember anything more about this question so if anyone else was there please let me know!)
Question 6
“If you could perform with or collaborate with any bands from Manchester who would it be and why?”
Ashton did a bad impression of a Manchester accent whilst saying “rolling stones” before deciding that actually they were too old and it’d be an odd mix of music. He then remembered oasis come from Manchester and said he wouldn’t want to tour with them because they fight all the time. They then told a story about when Liam Gallagher almost punched Ashton and again Ashton did a bad Manchester accent doing an impression of Liam saying “what the fuck are you looking at?”
Michael laughed that Ashton didn’t even know who Liam was and came over to the rest of them and told their manger that “that guy just tried to fight me” and the manger said “that’s Liam Gallagher, he tries to fight with everyone” and then Calum was laughing that Liam was pushing his kid in a pram at the time and then Ashton said that’s why he wasn’t scared of him! I think they settled on the 1975 in the end.
Question 7
“If you had the chance to ask your favourite band anything what would it be?”
Luke said he’d ask them how they cope with touring so much without going totally crazy. Ashton agreed and they said you have to a bit crazy to do it in the first place. Calum said “I think you should just tour at the very start or very end of the year” (or something like that) and Ashton laughed and said “we should have just asked you, then!”
Michael said that he liked that question and that it was very meta. He asked if everyone knew what meta was and Luke said “yeah but she didn’t say we were her favourite band though...” Michael laughed at that and said “that’s true, I was prosumptous”
Question 8
“What’s your favourite song to play live”
Michael said ‘if walls could talk’. Ashton said ‘more’ and Luke said ‘Youngblood’ I think Calum said ‘babylon’. I can’t remember if they elaborated any further, I don’t think they did?
They ended by playing ‘if you don’t know’ and they all seemed pretty happy and giggly as they thanked us all and said they were excited for the show.
This has taken like 2 whole weeks, I’m so sorry! Please message me if you were there too and you remember stuff I’ve missed or if I’ve got anything in the wrong order!
#5sos#soundcheck#Manchester day 2 soundcheck#my soundcheck#mytt#mytt manchester#myt#myt manchester#meet you there tour manchester#meet you there tour#my post
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Recollection from Carl’s sit-out (Melbourne 28/02/18)
@missoneminute already covered a lot and I’m so glad because there are things she wrote that I’ve forgotten already! What a night. These are the rest that I can remember for now.
After the show, a bunch of fans were loitering around the side of The Forum. At about 11pm Gary came out of one of the side doors. He was actually rushing to get to the Cherry Bar for his DJ set but he was sweet enough to stop for pictures and hugs. He also signed my shirt for me. I think somebody asked him if he was the one manning The Libertines twitter account and he made this face and went, “Oh, yeah! Sure! That’s totally me, mm-hmm.” So who knows, lol.
Then John came out, posed for photos and he’s such a dear, he made sure to have a quick chat with everyone. I got him to sign my shirt as well. He asked if this is the first time I saw them and I told them I saw them at Margate and he lit up at that. That Margate gig was like a homecoming, man, fucking special. Anyway, then the security came out and said that the band’s all left now and that Peter and Carl have left via another exit. John looked a bit annoyed, like, there was another exit? Lol, poor John.
The security person was still talking when @missoneminute, @punk-rat, and @bergamotandbiggles mysteriously decided to leave the area and went across the street. I was like, what, are we going to Gary’s DJ set already, what what what, when I saw someone in a familiar leather jacket walking five feet ahead of us. Lol, it’s Carl! He was walking with these two other fans so then there was a small group of us walking and chatting with him and he turned to the graffitied back alley next to The Forum and stopped in front of Bartini by the “libertines” tag on the wall.
Somehow he ended up sitting down and everyone sat down with him and he was talking us up, sharing cigarettes, passing his drinks around, and doing accents and impressions for two hours. So these are what I remember:
- He asked if we’re going to Gary’s DJ set later and we said and that some of us went to the one in Sydney as well. Then he made this fake-horrified look and went, “And you’re going back??” Lol, shut up Carlos, you were fall-over drunk.
- “Have you heard the news?” No what? “Nothing, just trying to break the ice”. Then he went on in his news announcer town crier voice, something about Malcolm Turnbull and New Zealand. Did I hear wrong? Why New Zealand?
- After opening @bergamotandbiggles’ present he talked about putting cigarettes out in his tea. I thought I heard him mentioning Peter but he was mumbling quite a bit. He brought up the putting out cigarettes in tea several times.
- A fan told him the roadie who took the cigarette out of Peter’s mouth onstage just saved them a lot of money that night and deserves a raise. Carl did the whole eyeroll and that cute ‘tell you a secret’ face and was like, “Oh he’s doing fine for himself, believe me”. Then he assured us that if the roadie had not done it Peter would have gone over to someone to get them to take the cigarette out of his mouth anyway. He then proceeded to mimic Peter hissing through a cigarette “ge’ jis ou’ o’ me mouf!”
- A fan told him she had to go to the UK to see The Libertines because Peter’s banned from Japan and Carl’s like, “Aaaaww, let him in! Let him in!”
- He talked about going to the Mornington Peninsula to see the animals and something (an owl? I couldn’t quite catch what) bit him in his arm and he showed us the mark. Some fans then told him about the videos of people punching a kangaroo and a shark in the face and he was like, “Do you know Natalie Imbruglia?” Then he went on to talk about her telling him about somebody punching a shark in the face.
- Ok so when he started talking about the silent film @missoneminute gave him, that was amaaaazing. Also, it was funny when he said he felt like he was in The Shining watching it in his hotel, except his was a “skanky hotel” with the winds rattling the windows. Oh, Carl.
- At some point when people were asking about whether Peter’s single, a fan said that John’s the guy to marry. Carl agreed and called John “a keeper.”
- He talked about how John was excited to meet Jeremy Corbyn during the gig last year and John told him “I’m going to talk to Jezza!” Then John went and came back saying, “he blanked me”. Carl didn’t go and talk to Jezza, “not after that,” he said. “We did the whole Jeremy Corbyn chant thing, he should be coming to talk to us!” I think he’s half-kidding.
- Then he started talking about how when he was jumpstarting this “skanky car”, a man came with flyers and things and started talking to him, not recognising who he is. Carl said he was being all friendly and making small talk while trying to block his much fancier Audi the whole time. The man then started talking politics and asked who Carl’s voting for and Carl said Jeremy Corbyn. The man then started swearing and shouting at him and Carl was like, “Alright, calm down mate, who’re you voting for?” And the man said “UKIP”. Cue groans from us avid listeners.
- He kept threatening to write Razorlight on our persons. All night.
- A male, well-built fan asked Carl to write something on his arm and before he even started writing anything, he was running his hands all over the fan’s outstretched arm gleefully going, “You’ve been working out!” He then reached out to run his hand over the fan’s abs as well. I thought the fan looked a bit flustered and embarrassed, to be honest. Oh, Carl.
- He said one of the things he like about Australia is how everyone is so chilled because back in the UK everyone take things so seriously. He then went on a mini one man show to play out how pub talks often go for him. “Who’re you?” “Me? Carl?” “I mean your team.” “Uh, Arsenal?” “WELL WHAT ARE YOU DOING SITTING OVER HERE THEN?” Then he made this ridiculous face and he muttered about how people take football way too seriously. “Where do you shop? ASDA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THEN? TESCO? WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THAT SALAD? MARKS AND SPENCER?” By now everyone’s laughing and fake-rioting over their shops and it got pretty incoherent. This man has a gift, he should do stand up comedy sometime.
- I asked him to sign my shirt and he looked at it and declared, “Gary’s already done it!” and pretended to be upset about it. So I let him pick a spot on the shirt and he pulled and stretched it over his thigh and signed it near the middle. And all I could think of at the time was ‘omg my shirt has a hole in it’. Worth it, though.
- Someone asked him what he thought of Julian Casablancas and he was like, “Oh, he’s fantastic,” then he immediately changed the subject, lol. He literally did the “Look! What’s that?” distraction, pointing out at some random people standing by the corner. “Somebody is standing there, who is that? What are you doing there?”
- We were sitting against this wall with the words “libertines” written on it and a fan told him to tag the wall with his name or The Jackals. I offered him @missoneminute’s well-travelled sharpie and he was like “No it’s fine, I did it. I was the one who wrote that.”
- He talked about how he heard of these yarn-bombs. John was the one who told him about “these rebels, society outcasts, they would run around the city and just, KNIT!” He contemplated writing Yarn Bomb on a fan’s arm for a tattoo but then decided against it, muttering, “I can’t do that.” Good call.
- A fan said he travelled from Western Australia to this gig and Carl was like, “Oh.” Pause. Then in all seriousness, “Adelaide?” and everyone looked at him like, ⁉️⁉️⁉️ Omg I love him.
- Another fan said she used to live in Bristol (keyword: used to) and after a while she said she’s leaving because she has a 20-hour drive that night. And Carl looking proper confused went, “What, where?” and the fan said she lives in a small farm 20 hours away. Carl laughed and was like, “I thought you were going to say Bristol.” Oh, Carl.
- There’s a pub called Bartini right across where King Carlos was holding court, and a fan who worked there came out and gave him a drink. He was sipping on it really slowly and about an hour in it’s still nearly full. So someone asked him what it was and he made this face and quietly said that it was pretty awful and right at that moment the fan came out of the pub and asked him how he liked the drink. Everyone just shared this look and he started really drinking it, this darling man. The fan then asked him what his favourite drink was and he was like. “…this” and lifted up his glass. A bit more digging and he said his favourite drink was Diesel. He described it as: quarter cider, quarter stella, two shots of vodka, two shots of absinthe, and a large port. Everyone of us just looked at him in awe/horror listening to it, lol. I looked at @punk-rat and we were just. Speechless. The bar then passed him a lager which he seemed to like more and he then passed his first drink around. Maybe it’s an acquired taste but I’m with Carl on the drink. I gave it a try but not even the idea of sharing Carl’s spit could convince me to have a second go, lol. Nobody wanted to finish it and when @missoneminute tried to give it back to him, he just paused in the middle of what he was saying and happily went, “Oh, cheers!” and clinked his lager with her and continued talking. Awful 😆 😆 😆 The fan from the bar came back out to ask if he wants that Diesel drink and he absolutely moaned, “Please don’t do that to me.” A few minutes later the fan came back asking really Carl, do you want that drink or not, and he answered “No!” so emphatically. I’m slightly less worried about his liver now.
- He got talking about Neighbours several times it was hilarious. Everyone there have apparently seen that video of him talking conspiracy theories about it and were like, oh, here we go again. Fans were trying to convince him to crowdfund and buy Ramsay street off. Then a fan actually very seriously suggested he sell the Margate hotel for it and I wanted to kill that fan a bit. How very dare he.
- A fan told him to visit a hot spring beach in New Zealand, where you can dig out a hole and lie in the hot water. Carl was like, “dig a hole??” and the fan had to clarify, “in the sand. It’s a hotspring beach.” And Carl was like, “if you dig a hole in Margate and lie in it, you’re going to get bit by something.”
Oh, man, Carl. I don’t have enough words to describe how kind and generous and funny and omg, how fucking beautiful he is in person. I could stare and listen to him talk all night, no matter how stupidly mumbly he gets sometimes. Anyway, Carl makes four. Until last night I’ve only ever met Peter in person, and that was just by chance. Turns out he’s the most elusive of them all, that unicorn.
@missoneminute, @punk-rat, @bergamotandbiggles, you’re the best and thanks for a fantastic night. 💖💖💖
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Destined for greatness
Destined for greatness is a phrase I have long used to describe myself. While I should have spent the last year as a graduate, finally free from the shackles of higher education, I instead spent this time spiralling all the way into a permanent state of existential crisis. I should’ve been either back in New York by now, or working in some fancy creative agency in Paris. I should’ve been destined for greatness, not swamped by sadness. My therapist says I use the word “should” a lot.
Such is life. Writing this, it’s been a couple of days since I stopped taking my antidepressants and I'm starting to feel in charge of my own life again. I’m in the driver’s seat again. Figuratively, but also literally; I just started a part-time job driving a van, and delivering people’s Asda shopping. I’m based out of my hometown, Morley, but can go as far as Barnsley, Selby and Doncaster sometimes. I find it so funny how you can travel across Yorkshire and watch “y’orite luv” turn into “y’orite duck.” It’s also a job which (alongside my charity-funded fancy therapy) is making me think so deeply and incessantly about social class divides in England, reflecting on my own positioning, and noticing more and more, just how much class is still so central to how we form expectations. Expectations that we hold towards others, external subjects, outcomes and institutions, and the expectations that we set for ourselves.
I have always had extremely high expectations for my own life, which is partly why I am so deeply dissatisfied with how it looks, right now. I’ve also always felt a profound need to prove myself as worthy of a purposeful, meaningful life.
Taking sertraline made me feel... nothing. I barely even felt like a real person. I was more existing, than living. That could’ve also been the lockdown. It’s so weird to feel as if you are hysterically crying on the inside, but otherwise be physically incapable of tears, or showing any emotion at all. I definitely needed that for a while, because I was just numbing myself by smoking weed, all day, everyday, otherwise.
I lost my grandad to COVID-19 almost a year ago; that’s what really set me off down this dark path to begin with. Turns out I already had a hell of a LOT of unresolved grief trauma surrounding the loss of my mother, when I was a kid. I’m starting to feel as if growing up is simply learning how to get through each day without wanting to cease from existence, somehow finding a sense of “purpose” along the way.
I did 12 weeks of NHS-ordered CBT alongside popping the personality-draining pills. I was paired with this really nice woman who was very politically aligned with me, thankfully. I spent most of the time ranting to her about the Tories, authoritarianism and how different my life would look now, if I had rich parents like Florence Given or Grace Beverley. I was so angry, with everyone and everything; I still am, but I’m just learning how to deal with it a little better, at times. At other times, I feel like crashing my Asda van straight into the River Aire and giving up on all of this.
I’m receiving some pretty hardcore private therapy now, which I accessed for free through a charity called “Her Path to Purpose.” I’ve even got a call about making a video for them, after they saw this one I did for UN Women UK:
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Working on this research project with the UN and Living Proof reassured me that I still am destined for greatness, even if I’m not yet where I thought I would be by 24. That’s all over now, and there’s exactly one month today until the absolute final deadline day for this Motion Graphics Project. My 24th birthday came and went too quickly, and left behind a really dreadful sense of regret that manifested in a drive to get better. I’ve procrastinated from becoming my authentic self for an entire year, by staying clinically depressed; I’ve felt so much pain, anger, shame, guilt, hopelessness, powerlessness and frustration throughout all of that time. While I always knew that this would definitely be a personal project, I never quite anticipated just how much it would become a personal journey. The good thing is, I finally now know exactly what purpose this piece should serve, the emotions it should evoke amongst viewers, and who those viewers should be. I’m at it again with the “should”s.
I’m now standing at a crippling crossroads between self-destructing completely or becoming a pioneering change-maker. Where I go from here all relies on my ability to commit to this project wholeheartedly, focus and dedicate myself like never before, to execute it in precisely the way I can see it in my brain, as I type this.
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“Did Dan get TOO TAN?”
(Sept 19th 2017 Dan liveshow timestamps)
0:03 After an awkward pause and salute: “Hello cyber friends” (instant regret and reflection)
0:29 (Dear god, don’t grab your laptop by the screen like that Dan.)
0:44 Grimace #1
1:06 No Dan, you do not look *atol* different. That tweet, title and pic are all just clickbait.
1:10 (Bronze my ass.)
1:19 Hitting us with that meme.
1:25 (Didn’t need to be in your face thanks. Teasing angles?)
1:36 “Never say Trumpy ever again, in any circumstance.”
1:45 Lovely pores and freckles.
2:00 Obviously everyone subscribes to YouTubers for their freckle content.
2:30 Livestreams are “a mistake” because of the chat clinging on to one thing and spamming it.
2:40 No probing or questioning at airport, big grin.
3:01 “The broadband is terrible but the 4G is great.” Okay…
3:17 “The toasty Dan experience”, orangish filter.
3:26 Double rhyme: “I guess that’s a rhyme, yeah that’s fine” (okay it’s a slant rhyme)
3:47 “Buttered crumpet Daniel.”
4:02 “Went to an island in the Mediterranean.” (This is exactly the answer I expected and quite frankly the only one he should give.)
4:09 “Literally did nothing for about six days, it was great.”
4:15 ‘I am Pilgrim’ book recommended by his mum.
4:30 Tricked into reading 900 page book.
5:00 Holiday was incredibly relaxing.
5:10 “Ordeal” getting there, delayed flight, three hours “traumatizing”
5:22 “Haha long boye” “literally, shins driving into my chest, bleeding” alright hyperbolic humor Dan. “Tough.”
5:38 “Violated” on flight by guy’s elbows, “no respect for personal space”, “fully leaning into me”, “didn’t even care”, “honestly an icon for all of us.” (Was it Phil?)
6:03 3 am, old driver, mini bus, cliff roads, did pre-ritual preparing for death.
7:00 “So much yogurt”, doesn’t know why.
7:05 “Assaggetti” tweet, we can shame him, “has the worst sense of humor in the world”, check it out and unsubscribe, doesn’t remember the language (Italian), apologizes, “constantly problematic”.
7:55 “Got that D from the S up above” (vitamin D, or Phil…)
8:16 Phil came on the holiday in case anyone didn’t know.
8:18 “He went from like glass to pale ivory, which is good”, “Phil is someome who erupts in freckles whenever he goes outside, so it’s hard to tell if he tans or if your eyes are just kinda like drawing the dots between the space all the freckles are, if you know what I’m saying.” (Wow, I… I’d like to think you mean what I know, but I’m not sure. Wow.)
8:37 Someone in the chat: “Nice Ursa Major on that cheek boy”. Turn, pose, laugh.
8:41 “The Bigger Dipper of my self esteem.”
8:53 Good day: watched Bake Off and answered emails, “thrilling”.
9:13 Tumblr likes, fan art, “beautiful to celebrate the great people.”
9:43 “The internet is not here”, laughs, sighs, apologizes.
9:55 Some peer pressure advice.
10:25 Had to check what his video title is.
10:35 I don’t know why he bothers to ask if we watched either.
10:55 Accept that he does things by his British calendar.
11:11 Why he didn’t he talk about uni stories when it was happening. Ashamed? Yeah, processing turmoil at the time.
11:55 Now shares traumatizing, terrifying, shameful, embarrassing stories straight away.
12:15 Rowing club guy AU… (not what I was thinking)
12:46 Laundry story: Phil was nice, Dan didn’t ask, *literally* ordered a cab, turned up with suitcase, Phil assumed he dropped out and was moving in, “I’ve had a day and I’m going to wash my socks in your washing machine.”
13:13 “If you struggle to function as a person-” (I really wish he had finished this sentence)
13:15 Asda sponsor for crying in the cheese aisle?
13:23 Pasta burn shaming (were you just never in the kitchen with your mum Dan?)
13:36 Dropping laptop so much recently.
14:00 Never taught cooking, laundry, accounting.
14:18 “No one told me shit!” (in Dan’s face again).
14:33 “What happens when I’m 23?! How do I do a tax?!”
14:54 It was ravioli (pretty sure the instructions mentioned water Dan…)
15:15 Thick as in stupid, not thicc fat booty.
15:30 “Look Fatima, we all have different life experiences, okay?” (lol)
15:36 “Ravioli ravioli, give me the death I deserveioli.” Relates.
15:45 Rihanna livestream, forehead fetishist? Wouldn’t mind if anyone leaves for that.
16:08 Not up on BTS, DNA.
16:33 Shames Eden for “let me see that pastussy” comment, “leave.”
16:45 “Love on the Brain”. He really loves Rihanna, amazing, blessing, doesn’t give a shit, casual, informal, etc. “Bitch Better Have My Money.”
17:25 Is sure BTS video with be “pure and beautiful”, expects “softly applied eyeshadow and very fluffy hair”, he’s sure he’ll enjoy.
17:38 Maybe new gaming video/livestream tomorrow.
17:45 Overcooked, ironic kitchen fire, foreshadowing.
18:08 Wasn’t sure if he should get into Chinese guy story again, but he has to.
18:13 Deep breath: “It was 4 am, I’d been you know, well hydrated that evening, but I decided I needed another drink” go into the kitchen, everyone else was asleep, guy had a whole chicken, with neck and feet, fine but surprising, tiniest pair of white y-fronts, hacked head off and made eye contact, just couldn’t, usually would awaken some kink in him…
19:39 Pool pic, shout out to friend, no consent, relaxing, absorbing sun like a lizard, *basking*, fell asleep, lucky it was a pool and he didn’t drift out to sea, sun stroke vid reference, “the bad tan”.
21:08 People saying “trying to be cute”, the double chins (really?!)
21:21 The least Dan-like photo.
21:33 Thought it would ruin his Instagram aesthetic.
22:10 Lack of other content: relaxing, reading,
22:24 Took a couple other photos, sunset selfie, “no one’s going to take a photo of me” (what the hell happened to your personal photographer?) but then people came (please post, please!)
23:40 Bake off is his life, “Noel Feilding is a national treasure”, caramel was torture while hungry, faves are Liam and not!Val (what did he whisper about Liam? Really wanted him to be…?)
24:30 *Maybe* Halloween Baking, they don’t think that far ahead about anything.
24:48 Phil’s role in Dan’s video, mugging scene took nine takes, afraid to punch him. Outtakes please!
26:03 (grimace #2) “Hello Grandma, my name is Daniel, I’m a wholesome person, that’s a very great influence”
26:16 Wachowski films
26:23 Dan floating in donut plushies would be very challenging.
26:33 Dan flips a bit at the idea that’s it’s weird to like people who don’t know who you are. Uses Ed Sheeran as example.
26:55 Scrolls past person who said they feel better when they have a dream about Dan and Phil.
27:17 Cared more about YouTube than university socializing and class, Pom Bear Massacre reference, made Tumblr account.
29:09 Chapped lips, season changed the moment he stepped off the plane.
29:42 “Okay Universe, I know I can be a bit of a downer, sometimes.”
29:51 Haley Barry Storm powers
30:08 Yes the furry blanket comes out, polyester, sad pimp, Marks & Spencer.
31:06 Ready for everything seasonal, autumnal Yankee Candle range, not haute, but fun themes.
31:31 Frisbee laptop across the room on to the bed, missed.
31:46 Candle haul, yes it is content we need right now!
32:26 Furry invasion on Splatoon, scaley, yiffing proposition, “this is a family game”, not shaming just concerned for kids, though it is hentai-esque…
33:27 Sonic: 2010 reminiscing, formatting of boxes.
34:04 Was stupid side kick, Phil being good, Dan trying to be helpful, actual just a cheerleader, Phil was disgusting, doesn’t know if Phil even knew what he was saying (of course he did).
34:38 Didn’t know uni vid was trending
34:52 Reflection (I think that’s the piano nook)
35:00 Weird because of swearing, someone at YT didn’t watch the vid, “Ah, keep doing that, don’t watch my videos, just know that I’m a good person…”
35:25 “I make great friendly content.” (grimace #3)
35:30 Explains why trending isn’t automatic. Yes, think of the children.
36:05 “But hey, I’m not bad, everything’s fine”.
36:45 “People of all genders do and don’t wear makeup”.
37:10 (I’m pretty sure that the no candles with birds is because of the fumes.)
37:25 What is with the nose touching when confirming Spooky Week? “Next video (nose touch) soon, don’t worry”…?
38:28 “Fans of everything are annoying, that’s just what happens when people are enthusiastic about stuff.”
39:19 Dan doesn’t get annoyed by different fandoms. Says more about the people being annoyed, part of their own insecurity, their lack of community, togetherness, celebration, shared experiences, jealous or sad, or maybe everyone just everyone’s annoying.
39:56 Dream Daddy: so dangerous saying Dilddy. Dan likes Damien, great taste, immaculate presentation, probably not Dilddy’s romantic soulmate.
40:31 Dan is in like ten fandoms (makes a face).
40:45 Chat: “Will Phil become a furry, what’s your fursona?” Dan: “Is it time to go?”
40:55 Has never thought about it, promises he’ll get on it soon, he knows what the internet wants from him.
41:31 Chat full of fursona suggestions. He’s going to start crying.
41:52 “A llama fucking hell.” “Look at the time.”
42:01 Going to go into a (not disturbing) hole later looking into axoltl fur suits.
42:24 Elf on a shelf meme, was going to post a Dan one, “old meme!” (Still don’t need to be up in your face Daniel.)
43:27 Really wants to go see IT, needs to see Mother.
44:04 Shut up! American Horror Story, makes him happy. Loves Sarah Paulson (is his life), feels represented by a lesbian with anxiety. Evan Peters is great, looks gross, or great depending.
45:25 His fursona should be a big bear, I agree. What a reaction.
45:46 Left comb on holiday, looks like a bush.
46:13 (grimace #4 at group chat names.)
46:20 “What is wrong with all of you?”
46:22 Glosses over diet ask. Indeed.
46:26 “Don’t call me Uncle Dan when we’re talking about fursonas.”
46:36 “If you live in Australia vote for marriage equality, we don’t need to have this conversation.” “Come on, come on Australia, sort your shit out.”
47:03 Going to “innocently Google things that are fine”.
47:22 “Me and Phil would love to come to Russia”.
47:27 Limitations of TATINOF.
47:44 Watch uni vid: “Don’t take it too seriously. Remember that most of the time I’m just trying to be funny, and if you ever want like my real feelings or opinions, just think about whatever the opposite of what I’m saying is, and that’s usually how to get to the sincere heart of whatever Dan’s talking about.”
48:13 “Stay calm, ask some senpais for some life advice and think carefully about what your fursona should be.”
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22 things I wish I knew before I was 22
1. Find solace in your alone time. I know you don’t like clichés, but the only real person you have, IS yourself. Nobody will ever know you like you do. It does not matter if you live with 7 siblings or if your social group consists of 25 people you speak to everyday, when the sun sets and the streets turn quiet, the only person you’re left with is your raw self. Stop going out every single night just to get away from your thoughts. Embrace them. Tackle them. Social standards dictate that loneliness is bad and unhealthy but at 22 I’ve only just fallen in love with loneliness. Eating along. Sleeping alone. Going to coffee shops alone. Your mind will become your best friend.
2. Lying to the mother is never on the agenda but if it shields her from sleepless nights and worrisome days, then don’t be sorry for it.
3. South Asian mentality will predispose you to only assume a very few career choices are worthy to be appreciated. Doctors, engineers, lawyers etc. It is also those very few career choices that make for good marriage proposal material: “he’s 25 and he’s got a really good job mA, he is a barrister”. Break out of these cultural tendencies as soon as possible.
4. No matter how tired you are, don’t go to sleep with make-up on. Your skin is not going to be happy in the morning and then you’re going to wonder 2 days later why your skin is acting up and then you’ll wear more make up to cover it and then you’ll cry and it will just become an endless vicious cycle.
5. Read. Read. Read. You used to love reading. What happened? Whether it’s for a first class answer in university or just inquisitively. Whether you want to drown in non-fictional facts or simply fall in love with a fictional world. Just read. It will broaden your mind and make you feel at peace sometimes.
6. Don’t be a statistical “woman” driver. If you’re going to have a car crash, then so be it driving like a fucking racer boy.
7. Check your bank account more often.
8. Remember, keeping secrets makes you your own person; it gives you something that is solely your own knowledge and by not telling your best friend, it will keep you sane sometimes. Like who you spoke to til 4am last night or how you set your toaster on fire. It’s the little things sometimes that help you draw a line between who you are and what the world is asking you to be.
9. Please try not to adopt a cat because it will die one day and you will be heartbroken beyond repair. Also cat food is expensive so please stop feeding every cat you see.
10. Call your friends once in a while, they miss you.
11. Stop driving so much at stupid o’clock when you’re angry/upset, it’s not helping anyone. You’re just wasting fuel and you know it never makes you feel better.
12. For God’s sake, start wearing your heart on your sleeve. You’re so closed off from people that you have no idea of the consequences it entails. You can’t understand that letting people into your life can sometimes be a good thing. I know that you think you’re saving yourself from heartbreak and misery, but by being reserved, you’re doing the opposite of what you hope for. Love/lust is definitely not part of the independency that you so desperately want, but would it hurt to ask someone how their day was? Show an interest in their life? Maybe it would be nice to find out that they cannot stand sushi or that they take 2 sugars in their tea but 3 when no one is looking? Hmm? Also, cut men some slack. Apologise more often and let them buy you pretty things if they want to.
13. Having/obtaining a degree/masters might make your parents/future arranged marriage in law’s happy, but if it doesn’t make you happy, don’t do it. People need pharmacists, but they also need photographers and barbers and graphic designers and Asda managers. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel crap for your choice of education or choice of no education.
14. Never buy the books on your recommended university reading list. eBay them. Depop them. Library them. Maybe even sell your pussy in return for them. But don’t buy them.
15. Don’t be a fucking hero. If you’re not physically/mentally well, it’s not your responsibility to take on someone who is physically/mentally unwell. It’s never your responsibility. Get your shit together first. Also, stop being there for everyone when you know you couldn’t call them at 3am if you needed a lift to the hospital. Stop being so nice to people that don’t deserve your kindness.
16. People do things for their own selfish, selfless, stupid or even evil reasons. They do not owe you an explanation for any of those reasons.
17. There is always someone else. Always. It’s never exclusive. Never. Be smart. Forever.
18. Instagram is ridiculously bad for your self-esteem. You don’t need to scroll down picture after picture of what you think the “perfect female” looks like, whilst contemplating whether you should get a nose job, lip fillers, laser hair removal. I know you have this alternative “ideal” personality in your mind of what you should be. How you should look. How you should feel. But you’re fine. You’re a solid 6/10. Get off social media and go do something productive.
19. Boys are the fucking worst. Manipulative and unapologetic. Users and abusers. Liars and cheats. But so are females. Don’t ever, ever underestimate the damage a female can do.
20. It’s so important to pay attention to your siblings at home. Whether it’s asking how school was today or what they did when they went out with their friends. You need to pay attention to their lives and play an active role in theirs.
21. Binge watching a TV series from 9pm to 6am and then waking up at 3pm is not an adult thing. Establish a normal sleeping pattern. Please.
22. Whenever something negative happens, your life comes to a grinding halt and you’re so bad at dividing attention to things that actually matter. But everything carries on. Sheep don’t fall off the hill they’re standing on. Cows don’t suddenly become good at camouflaging. Grass doesn’t just stop growing. People don’t stop walking. Cars don’t just stop for a man who is driving 100mph. There are no sudden power cuts because of your bad mood. Trains don’t just randomly stop in the middle of nowhere whenever you have an argument. Transcription and translation don’t stop from happening every time you’re upset. People don’t stop their conversations because you hurt yourself, and hurricanes certainly don’t pause for a second until you get over a thought. A drug addict doesn’t stop in the middle of snorting cocaine. Baptized citizens and hardcore atheists don’t stop in the middle of their argument because they sense that somewhere in the world a 22 year old female is contemplating religion. Not everyone dramatically changes their moods whenever your mum calls you useless. Neurons still work, so do busses. Coffee shops carry on making coffee, and take-aways carry on supplying high cholesterol. Nothing ever changes, nothing stops. And neither should you. Breathe and get over it. There’s so much more to life then you believe there is right now.
#turning 23 soon and the thought of being older has taken its toll on me#there are a lot more things but 22 seemed like a nice amount#personal
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A brief history of bad times, part 1
So hi, it’s been a while.
Quick answers to your questions:
- Yeah, i probably should do that podcast. Sorry. I recorded a bunch of interviews with cool people but never had the faith in myself or what I was doing to actually fully press ahead with it. It’ll likely see the light of day soon.
- Yeah, i will blog some more. Spoiler alert, I have like 3 tours worth of absolute nonsense with a particular band to write about that i’m trying to structure in my head. It’ll happen, probably soon. Difficult second album and all that. The thing is, 2017 has actually been a great year for me as far as the tours I’ve been a part of and there hasn’t been that beautiful air of resentment about my life choices that was present the year prior. And as far as the ones i’ll be writing about, I guess I wanted to let the dust settle on them a bit.
- Yeah, old blue is still running. German engineering, right?
EDIT: I’d originally intended this to be a single post about a fairly short tour as it wasn’t quite as action packed as the last one, but I guess I really know how to waffle on when I’m whinging. I think this will probably be in 3 parts if this is anything to go by.
So, with that out of the way, let’s take a brief stop in early spring 2016. It’d been a really rough end to 2015, and with an impressively lengthy and expensive MOT in January behind me i’d had to pick up basically whatever I could get in terms of work to, you know, not starve to death in an alley somewhere. It was around this time I had one of my favourite tours ever with Allison Weiss and Jenny Owen Youngs (that’s them up there in the cover photo, don’t they look pleasant, well behaved and friendly?) but pretty soon afterwards I had a period where i had to kind of jam a few short runs together. Basically the sort of thing where i’d be finishing a tour in Liverpool one night, then starting another tour in Norwich the next night with a drop off in London inbetween.
Well, exactly that, actually. It meant agreeing to do some silly, inadvisable driving stints, but that’s pretty much my M.O at this point and I really needed the money. Plus the second run was with Ducking Punches who i’d previously had some great experiences with. I just had to get through 5 days on a metal tour first. I hadn’t had the best of times with metal bands prior to this (just you wait…) so I wasn’t exactly foaming at the mouth to get out on this run, but also it was only 5 days, how miserable could it be?
“I’ve brought Green Street, let’s stick it on. Can’t wait to get fucked up and go to a strip club tonight.”
Ah, fuck.
So day one of this run is an early morning pickup in London followed by a full days drive up to Newcastle for the first show. The band are tour support so there’s no backline/major stress about being there early, as is evident by us leaving a good hour or so later than planned after one of the guys slept in AND decided to go for breakfast.
First impressions, the guys all seem alright. Guitarist is a bit of a geezer and a bit of a scene veteran, clearly the driving force behind this band. Friendly enough, but you can imagine him trying to gouge your eyes out with a broken bottle after a minor disagreement about what the best Metallica album is. Drummer is a total space cadet, who doesn’t really seem to have much of a vested interest in being at all helpful ever at any time. He constantly wanders off during load ins and load outs leaving everyone else to carry his stuff. Also none of his stuff is in cases, that kind of drummer. Second guitarist and bassist I learn are temps as the band doesn’t have a full time solid lineup. Both very pleasant guys who didn’t have the perceived ego of the ‘actual’ band and were fairly chatty. Finally, the vocalist is the guy who got here late and decided to go eat, making us later. He’s a bit posh, a bit quiet, but seems alright.
Can you guess who’s going to turn out to be a massive prick?
So we finally get on our way, and roughly half an hour into the journey DISASTER strikes. One of the TV’s in the back loses power, and they can only watch Green Street on one screen.We’ve previously covered my anxiety when it comes to things like this, and so with this being the first day of a new tour with a new bunch of people I don’t know, I want to try and get it resolved ASAP. I pledge to stop once we’re out of London and take a look at it. This apparently isn’t good enough for geezer guitarist who continues to moan about not being able to watch a film about football hooligans that he’s probably already watched 15 times this year. I carry on regardless, until about 5 minutes later when a horrible acrid burning smell reaches me. I shout to the back, and the verdict is that they can’t see or smell any evidence of a fire or anything to be worried about. I pull over anyway.
It turns out that one of the power cables leading to the now defunct TV has overheated and is melting into itself. I remove the fuse, apologise, and break the news that it’s unlikely that this TV will be back online for the remainder of the tour. Green Street Geezer Guitarist is understandably mortified and begins to display the five stages of grief.
“Nah, it’s fine. I can’t believe this, FUCK! Is there nothing we can do to fix it? This is the worst, I just bought 5 new DVDs for this tour. Alright, fine, we’ll just stream the Chelsea match on my phone instead.”
After a long, football violence-less drive, we arrive in Newcastle. I’m informed we have a travelodge for the night, and we’ll check in there before we load in to the venue. It’s fairly central so i’m a bit worried about parking, but Newcastle isn’t too bad for city centre parking and i’m feeling good about having a bed. We load in, I go for some food with the vocalist and we make the kind of awkward small talk two people who clearly have nothing in common make. I get a pizza with chips on. It’s not good.
I stay for the show, the band are really not to my taste and the headliners even less so. Looks like i’ll be sitting in the van playing 3DS a fair few nights on this run then.
We head back to the travelodge fairly soon after the gig has finished which was surprisingly efficient, but it turns out it’s only because they’re all keen to shower and get changed before they go out and visit Newcastle’s finest clothing removal specialists. I’ve got a key to the room and they don’t need to get in the van, so i have a good nights sleep in a bed.
Day 2 we’re up at a reasonable hour. Those who went out apparently had a great time but are feeling a bit worse for wear, so the consensus is a spoons breakfast, obviously. Spoons is a happy place where nothing bad ever happens, so not much to say about that.
Show 2 is in Peterborough, a grotty forgettable town. Really, that’s what it says on the sign. The gig is super uneventful, and after I realise there’s a huge 24 hour Asda within walking distance of the venue that’s me sorted for entertainment for the evening.
We’re heading to London afterwards to stay at grimey green street guitar geezers gaffe so we have a bit of a drive, which is made all the more fun with a drop off in Welwyn Garden on the way as the singer wants to sleep in his own bed tonight and will get a train to us tomorrow. I’m assured it’s a 2 minute detour, and whilst that’s obviously an understatement it’s not massively far out of the way, so it’s agreed to without much fuss. We drop him off, then proceed to glorious central London. The rest of the guys want to stay up and watch Metallica live shows and in true metal band fashion take up all the comfortable surfaces before I even step foot in the house without a second thought for the well being of the man behind the wheel of the 3.5 tonne deathtrap they’ll be in the back of, so I opt to sleep in the van. As is tradition.
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A Day In A Life
They say retrospect is a wonderful thing. To be able to review; objectively and honestly – moments, times or even periods of time. Critically or loosely. Positively or negatively. Sometimes that essential clarity of thought cannot be granted until enough time has passed, as the mind (it has been known) to play tricks on us. In this particularly unique instance it has taken me this long – twenty-two years, in fact – to be openly able to absolutely look everything in the eye and be brutally frank. To the point where it’s almost completely written in the third-person, about another individual.
I suppose it could be as much the self-therapy I’ve wanted to gift myself, as it is hopefully a document of mental health learning for others. Tomorrow I will turn the grand, fuddy-duddy, middle-aged, wrinkle-washed age of forty-four. Double the age of probably the most pivotal and instrumental birthday anniversary of my life. Those who have known me forever will know why – but as I try not to assume that I know everything about everyone – this is a story from a very jittery life journey. Having lost people; friends and acquaintances from my generation to mental health struggles and coping mechanisms which didn’t work – “every little helps”, as Tesco says.
On Wednesday, May 7th, 1997, I travelled back to Nottingham; to my university life, having visited my mother after a write-off, nasty car accident had broken both her legs. She used to tell me up to that point “I’ve been driving twenty-five years and had no accidents, so don’t tell me how to drive!” When the time had clearly come to blemish the self-prognosed perfect driver’s record – it was done in destructive style. Anyway, having left my pin-legged mother in Llanelli, I returned to pre-arranged birthday drinks in Nottingham. A month or so away from completing my BA (Hons) Communication Studies course, this was to be probably the last big celebration before a month of coursework was to be completed. Life was good (apart from the aforementioned Mrs Damon Hill-Jones’s road exploits).
After a few hours of not paying for any drinks, I felt on the brink of being annihilated - should I drink any more. So, after running into my work colleague from my part-time job at the Beatroot nightclub, the two of us diverted from Sam Fay’s late bar – to his nearby flat, near Nottingham castle, so I could chill out for an hour. The plan was to return and see the night out until 2am. Whether the walk and fresh air had helped or not, I had a semi-second wind. We got to his flat and my ideals of birthday grandeur got the better of me. I wanted a bottle of bubbles. At that time of night, the only place I could get one would be a nightclub, so we ordered a taxi to take us to…sigh….The Black Orchid. A cheesy, yet huge club in the enterprise park which had Wednesday student night on. Did I need the bottle? No, yet the cab was booked.
It was at this point that my mental hard drive crashed. My next memory was waking up in a hospital bed, the following afternoon, with not only my friends around the bed, but my father as well. I opened my eyes and asked; “What happened?”, as if I was in a scene of a film where the character had woken up in heaven – only to be sent back to earth with a completely abstract life narrative to the one which was being played up to the Wednesday. Turns out I had probably had another drink at my friend’s, at some point of the night consumed a small amount of amphetamines, then passed out on the first-floor landing, but falling sharply down the twenty feet of stairs on my head, all the way.
Now, with music playing loudly, my workmate and his flatmate heard nothing. It was their neighbour who heard a large ‘thud’, who rang the doorbell in concern which alerted them, along with the taxi which had arrived outside. There was blood everywhere. I had fractured my skull, torn nerves while breaking my nose and had a slight haemorrhage on the side of my head. Five days were spent in Nottingham’s QMC Hospital, mostly sleeping. On the Saturday, I remember getting out of bed in a complete fuzzy daydream, wearing only one of those crappy bed gowns; walking to the toilet with the nurse calling after me “Nathan! Where are you going?” “Home!” was the abrupt, muddled answer. I urinated, went back to bed and proceeded to enter hibernation once again.
Doctors said I was lucky to be alive. There was a dent at the front of my cranium, around an inch long. Had that been an inch higher in position on my skull – I was told I would have died. Those nerves I severed were my smell and taste nerves, so I’ve had very diminished senses in those departments, since. Most pivotal – was my doctor, back in Llanelli; once I returned and spent another five days in Prince Phillip Hospital, he said “You will experience some depression and levels of fatigue.” Immediately, in my head I decided – no I won’t. Not the depression, anyway. I’ll find a way of keeping lively and feeling good. The fact Being ruled out of playing rugby or football for at least nine months became a huge problem. My penultimate match played before the incident was for Wales Students Rugby League team against Scotland. The previous summer I had trained pre-season with my beloved Llanelli RFC, with the likes of Stephen Jones and Ieuan Evans; taking my fitness to a new level. I was twenty-two with the world at my feet. There was no way I was stopping. Unsurprisingly, it took a very short space of sleepy, anxious time to realise I’d have to succumb to the doctor’s prognoses.
Panic attacks began, embarrassingly in public while visiting a friend for their birthday in August 1997, having seen out three months of ‘no alcohol’ from my doctor’s orders. I had no energy. Not even enough to complete my coursework, so Nottingham Trent University gave me an extension of three months – to the end of August, to submit my work. However, I was living away from the university and my beloved friends. What the hell was happening? No energy; forced to live with my mother and brother while my father and sister both lived in Cardiff; both studying for their new careers. Here beginneth the hardest years of my life.
By the end of 1997, I had managed to graduate successfully, but I was by then suffering heavy depression and anxiety, fuelled by the loneliness of having no friends around; not knowing why I was on earth and wanting to die. I had lost all tracking of whom I was, what I was doing and where any of it was going. Plus, glandular fever had bitten me hard, taking a month out of my glorious, progressive freezer job at Asda.
In January 1998, I was charged with drink-driving, having driven home on Christmas week with no care for repercussions; caught on camera making a U-turn in a forbidden area. While living at home with my mother caused all sorts of tension, arguments and vitriol, the only thing which kept me partially sane was my first set of turntables. With very few points of company around in a reversal of vibrant, university life – it was me; and the decks. Over time, it became a slow, fearful return to “normal” life. I have never been a naturally confident person – easily intimidated in the past by louder, overconfident characters, but this new anger in me – for what I didn’t know – became something, someone – I had to allow to be played out. Not a villain, but an even more insecure little boy to that one on the morning of May 7th, 1997. Unapologetically cavalier, which only cost me at times – and those who suffer depression will know how past mistakes can eat the soul of those who made the mistakes.
For many years I refused to accept depression and anxiety were a part of me. My mother has since told me she believed it began with my grandfather’s death when I was seventeen, but I know from looking deeply inside myself, from exploring instincts I’ve always had, but with which I’ve had to become accustomed – questions I’ve asked in early teenage years, that my fears and those scared instincts – must be tied into my neurological wiring. Throughout my early twenties, from that point I lived out wild teenage years – years locked away inside the vault of a strict upbringing. Partying. Having to surrender, also – any instinctive passion or talent I had for playing rugby, from being oversensitive to knockbacks and increasing lack of confidence.
Seventeen thousand career changes later, I find myself at almost full-circle completion point. Only now, a bit of maturity (which I appreciate) makes the Peter Pan in me; hopefully a more reasoned character and person. I went into teaching (having told myself at eighteen I would never become a teacher) to try forging a predictable, 9-to-5 life for myself in a past relationship. To try proving to myself I was a virtuous individual (ironically omitting the thought that there are vile and immoral teachers out there too – luckily not many, but there are!) among the clouds of twentysomething decisions – without realising I didn’t have to almost burn myself out a second time, by becoming something I was not aligned with - to prove I could be virtuous and good. Back, now; working in hospitality and trying to revitalise my DJ career (as that’s what I always wanted to do), playing music I love and believe in – rather than what I fooled myself into thinking others wanted, in those hazy days.
Personally, visiting a psychologist in 2013 (my own choice) to try fathoming whether I had ADHD – which could explain these seventeen-thousand career changes, as well as lack of interest in my later school days – may have given me the road signs I needed. Being told it wasn’t attention deficit, but depression – being medicated has been like having a carbon monoxide fan for the air I breathe. It can always seep back into the oxygen channels, but I have now the ability to blow it away. The ridiculousness of life is something I have to laugh at – I don’t believe in staying miserable (despite being the younger Victor Meldrew). I appreciate the chances I have now and my family life. The point being – the imbalanced brain wires may have always been there but became violently exacerbated by this accident. I cannot stress enough how important it is to consult a mental health professional. Drop the pride, the façade and ideals of grandeur – everyone has some kind of something going on. Some are better are dealing with it than others. Some can’t hold on in the battle.
In one of those seventeen thousand careers – twenty years ago, in fact – I worked at what was, pretty much – an abuse line, call-centre; at British Gas in Cardiff. One reason I didn’t last there was because I am not a salesman. Plus, I’m an impatient non-salesman. In this job, the department had to deal with calls from people who had been mis-sold contracts by field agents, selling gas and electricity. On one memorable occasion an English man called, calling me a “f***ing c***” for asking him to explain – a little slower – what exactly happened and how he was conned. When I told him I’d hang up if he didn’t change his abusive tone, he replied “Sorry, I haven’t had my medication today, have I love?” To which his wife, shouting in the background answered, “No, he hasn’t.”
I still laugh at that, knowing that’s the bar of communication I’d prefer to stay beneath.
#depression#anxiety#mental health#suicide#accidents#life#growing up#careers#medication#therapy#birthday
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I always wanted to live with my dad for as long as I can remember, my wish was granted when I was 7 and he rescued me from the life I had. Since the beginning I remember him enjoying linkin park. Downloading them to his MP3 player, burning CD's and singing along in the car. Even now we still belt out their songs in the car, we were doing it just the other day when he took me to Asda price. When I saw the article about Chester's suicide I thought it was a hoax. I hoped it was a hoax. After the third article I read I felt the lump form in my throat and could feel the tears stinging in my eyes, I blinked and swallowed willing myself not to cry. After all I did not know this man there was no need to get myself worked up. I knew my dad wouldn't have found out yet as he doesn't have Facebook so I texted him and asked him if he'd heard the news and he rang me straight away. For some reason that was one of the hardest phone calls of my life. I've seen my dad cry twice in my life; once when his wife's mum died and once in the car when I was singing along to my immortal by evanescence. This time it was different, I could hear the crack in his voice and the heartbreak in his words when he was asking me if I was sure it was true. He rang back a while later and asked if I was still going to call my baby Chester. I wasn't naming my baby after Chester Bennington it's just coincidence that it was the name me and my boyfriend fell in love with for our baby. I don't see why I shouldn't still call my baby Chester after all he helped me through so much so after this it only seemed more right to keep this as his name. Things became rocky between my dad and I when I was about 15, I didn't get along with his new wife and I suppose I had typical teenage angst. I left home when I was 16 and we stopped speaking altogether. The few times I worked up the courage to text him it turned into arguments and name calling and nasty words. I always listened to linkin park to remind me of my dad, I read all the lyrics on google until I knew them backwards. The long drives with the homemade CDs and loud singing turned into me on YouTube crying and reminiscing in my bedroom. I somehow felt that maybe there was a connection there, like the words in the songs had a grip on us both and maybe he sat up late at night thinking of me whilst he listened through minutes to midnight. Last year he asked me if I wanted to go to see them live but I felt it might have hit me a bit too hard and everything would be a bit personal as we had only recently began talking again so I said no. I thought there would be plenty of time in the future to see them again but this is just another example of life being too short. These lyrics have helped me through the lowest points in my life and for that I will be forever grateful. My mind is so full of emotions I'm trying to write it all down to try and organise some of my thoughts, this music means so much to me I feel like a part of me has died too. Maybe this band took a piece of my soul away all those nights I spent crying beside them and that's why I feel so empty inside. I want to blast every song they have ever written and scream it until my lungs burn and my throat gives out, I want to tattoo their lyrics all over me so everybody can see the beauty of their work and their lyrics can stay with me even after I've gone. I feel like I will be forever mourning. Now you are at peace and you can finally rest.
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