another perfectly good motorcycle ruined.......

Thursday, 31 October 2019

Firestarter




 Wotcha pop-pickers, as the world descends further into madness a quick update from ‘Planet Loveless’ I have mostly been having major eye surgery on a detached retina, [get your eyeball injected twice, nothing will ever seem so bad again] watching the ‘Joker’ film, [brilliant], attending the ‘Stars at Darley’ end of season race meeting, seeing the Honeyblood gig at Rescue Rooms in N%))*:h@m , going to the Classic Bike Show at Stafford, [seriously, I’ve not been for the past 3-4 years and I swear the same people are still on the same pitches, selling the same old rusty, worn out old tat to people who think it’s cool to buy rusty, worn out old tat] to put in into perspective I spied a load of old magazines on a stall outside on a pitch that resembled the Battle of the Somme, they were dog-eared, damp and well thumbed, I dug out 8-10 and asked the bloke how much.
   Now this tub of lard, sat there with his ‘gang’ of five, M1A and combat trousered, jesters hat wearing crew looks me straight in the [good] eye, [do keep up, I’ve just told you I’ve had major surgery] says ‘cover price mate’ squeeze me, baking powder? My 60 year old brain takes a few seconds to realise he wants the full, new, cover price for the mags! ‘Mucker’ I reply, ‘really, surely you want to deal, it’s late Sunday afternoon, everyone’s going home, I want to buy the magazines, you want to sell them?’ He stands up, wobbling slightly from the effects of sitting quaffing warm supermarket ale from tins all weekend and obviously buoyed by the support of ‘The Sons of Arthritis’ says ‘put them back and fuck off’
    So, I did. I must be getting old. A few years ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about steaming into them and beating a few to a bloody pulp, instead I just walked away without a second word, their raucous laughter echoing in my ears.
    Back to Wales, Monmouthshire, a shepherd hut in a wood, wood burning stove, walking in the mountains with Mrs B and Ted and Bob, The Sugarloaf, Tintern Abbey, Raglan Castle, sunrises and sunsets, the beautiful Wye Valley. Leaves falling, cattle calling, amber, red and gold, woodsmoke, punk rock and standing stones........
   


Sunday, 6 October 2019

Wales




Just back from a great week in Wales, me, Mrs B, Ted and our new pup Bob the Dog. Bob has had a hard start in life, his mum is a rescue dog, bought from travellers and pregnant with five puppies, she lost two but the surviving pups are all healthy, mischievous Parson Jack Russell/ Chihuahua crosses, little skinny fuckers but with massive hearts and attitudes to match. Since we lost Gus back in 2017 I swore I wouldn’t have another dog but I really think dogs find you not the other way around, so here’s Bob! 
After 15 years of road trips to the ‘States, due to circumstances we have had to stay closer to home this year, we packed the van and headed to mid-Wales, a tiny camping pod on a farm, twenty miles from the ‘local’ shop, Red Kites skimming above our heads, the only sound sheep grazing and the wind, a distant dog barking and the crackle of our fire sending sparks into the dark sky, light pollution zero, the stars standing out against the inky blackness, dolphins playing in the surf at Mwnt, the coast walk from Aberporth to Tresaith, the waterfall cascading down the cliffs into the sea, the forest walks, foraging for wild mushrooms and drinking tea waiting for the sun to rise..............