3.11.2010
3.05.2010
the CROWN JEWELS
this started a few weeks back over 10 too many beers. we really want to do something that will make a difference, and many of us have been very closely affected by cancer, and want to see something done about it. plus what a good thing to get involved in. hopefully as things progress we'll go from strength to strength and events will get bigger and better.
look out for the 17th april (saturday), the others will be hosted by us for the night, with live bands and plenty of drink. promises that it'll be a bangin night, only £3 entry peoples AND ABSOLUTELY ALL OF IT GOES TO CHARITY. EVERY PENNY WE MAKE WILL GO DIRECTLY TO THE INSTITUTE OF CANCER RESEARCH. so get on it, unless you really dont care....
3.02.2010
Karaoke Project
2.25.2010
2.20.2010
This is what a Good night is about
2.14.2010
Sinister
2.11.2010
Sinister
2.10.2010
passage from a book titled: 'the others'. i connected so much to this book
I became attached to train travel – to seeing the grimy backs of buildings along train lines, the fenced industry and hung laundry. I slept in train seats. I opted for the rear car, so that in long bends, in open country, I could look ahead and watch the engine pass particulars of the landscape. And in the interim between the engines passing of, say, a half fallen brick pumping station and my own passing of it, happiness inhabited my journey. It was like the feeling I had on station platforms sometimes just after sunrise, when no one else was around and no train was expected for an hour or more, and an express had just gone through at high speed a minute or so before, the passengers in it flashing past like kings, queens and jacks in a thumbed deck of cards, ephemeral as thoughts. I put down my reading when that happened and enjoyed the absence of the train’s noise, the silence of a station in the countryside. To be awake in the cool of morning on a bench near train tracks, hungry, with a little breeze blowing, and whatever book u were reading open in your lap, was a little like listening for something you thought you might have heard a moment before. I suppose you could say I felt the sweetness, then, of being alive and in good health. At the same time, my romantic spells were curtailed by the sight of garbage near the rails, or by a wandering dog raising a leg at the corner of a building. I just didn’t have the psychic wherewithal to incorporate these images into my affection for living; I let them dispirit me, as the heat of the day and the crowds on the trains dispirited me, most days, during the afternoon.