Some of you may have noticed that CWA has not been here, some of you may not. I don't know. I don't care at the moment. Anyway I'm back from the land of old computers, mustard, strange rural accents, turkeys, Crosses of St. George. And have I got a treat for you! A little Norfolk post. Or poost.
This is the Alternative, a shrine to Steve Jones and Mark Shovel and Jonesy's Jukebox. This is the transcriptorium where my very good friend Floratina, gets down the best bits of Jonesy for you to enjoy and savour again. Sometimes I do too. That's it, that's what we do.
Then again, sometimes I come up with a rant or an observation which has nothing to do with Steve, the box. or Indie 103.1. That's where the eclecticism comes in.
I see from Steve's page on myspace that he's got spots on his dick, dun't he knew that he can get some sorta pills for that? Broad Norfolk - a flat county within easy reach of the Himalayas.
That's enough of that. Or is it?
Awfully busy at the moment chums but thought I'd share blog-style some memories.
I'm back and got in last night after a month's sojourn.
Left Norwich at 11.40 Friday Morning.
Back in Wigtown 04.30 Saturday morning
Yes there's more from the fevered keyboard of the CwA. Never you fear. I have not abandoned everything. It is good to be back but I didn't much feel like blogging in that stupid cyber cafe, whilst I was down South. I got in and got out.
Why did I go - do you care?
Oh well I'll tell you anyway.
A friend of mine bought 10 acres of forest in Kent so we went down to this party. That was a good time, camp fire style with guitars and whisky and BEER much beer. We lost our tent, well I did being rather drunk, my better half navigated it back into existence. Kent is nice, think "Darling Buds of May" and a stand-off between the police and New Age Travellers in a field and you will get the picture. Maybe...
Also parents manged a 50th Golden Wedding Anniversary and so I felt that I ought to get up there to Norfolk and be with them. Congrats to them!
Their 50th was all very jolly and many burgers and traditional English barbecue type grub was consumed.
Then my Aunt died...
When we were young yes I guess we were all close, we all lived in the same little village called Hopton-on-Sea with my grandmother. It's on the Norfolk coast. We were between Royal Air Force postings etc. Everybody was always visiting everyone in them days. So many Aunts, cousins, uncles. My mum only has only the one sibling left now. All the other 4 including her twin have gone. She was too ill to go, so I went with Paul - my nephew - my brother and my Dad. Got kitted out in a thrift shop,black tie and jacket. Service was mercifully brief, no fuss despatch. I'm glad I went. Now the fact is that the only time you or one sees your extended family is at dreary ocassions such as funerals. That's that, no fighting. No, "he was always a miserable bastard and he owed me for the piano, the little bleeder." type outbursts. We just aint that kind of family. Fishermen, brick makers, trawlers, labourers, we are that kind of a family.
I notice that my pa(w) has taken to wearing two wrist watches. Is this a sign of the onset of loopiness in his old age, or an awareness of mortality?
I had to laugh at Chispa's "I'm a Sex Pistol man" t-shirt, I want one! Check myspace. It is excellent as Steve would say.
I am going to have a good read of the blog when this all over but for now we have our second book town festival of the year, this is the one with the celebs. Not xactly A liners but all literary types none the less. After that Wigtown will go back to being sleepy toon again. Oh ho, I've just been handed a glass of whisky. I feel spaced after all that coach journey. It didn't help when I got off the coach and the taxi wasn't there to whisk me back to the byre either. On arrival the local youth were busy throwing glass bottles in the street for their fun. I felt like shit on a stick. When the taxi did show up, I was sitting in the back when I suddenly felt like my arsehole was blazing. First thought, "my phone (cell phone) has caught fire, next I've been administering chilli enemas to myself again. Nah it was back seat heating. I asked the driver what was the story and he reckoned that someone had been playing with the controls, why couldn't these hooligans leave things alone. etc. Then he said that he had a woman in the back last week and she had leant forward and informed him politely that her "fanny was on fire." Fanny in this case is not your heinie, or ass but er well what else lies between a woman's legs. Yes. Say no more.
I had some of those pot noodles when I was down South and some pie and peas too, oh yes. I was toying with the idea of taking a few snaps of this delicious nourishing alternative to nothing - with my digi cam - but felt that they might think I was a bit weird to get my camera out on the Norwich market pea stall and be snapping away. I restrained myself.
Seemed to produce an effect wearing bright red seditionary copy BOY bondage trousers and a GSTQ t-shirt - pin queen - all these drunks kept coming up to me and saying "hello," offering me slugs of Superlager, fights etc. All the crack whores smiling away, as they staggered back to their dens. Old England IS dying. These bone head skinhead Inger-land fan types were having a good glare too. Classic stand-off arms crossed. LOL. Fact is this was the clothing I wore in Kent for the stand-off with the police but as Ingerland was having a mini heatwave that stuff was the coolest thing, what not to wear. It was either that or black trousers.
I can't help feeling that it is rather sad to be wandering about in your hometown in such attire some 30 years or after the event, with a nice receeding hairline and a big bald patch on your barnet but I aren't one of these types who as soon as they notice that they are losing their locks, reaches for the Remington microscreen...yet. Please advise. It ain't cos of the Brylcreem either.
Clothes for heroes?
"God Save the Queen?"
"What do you want to save her for?"
That was the best quote.
Tina will be back soon, I'm going off to sleep.