Skip to main content


Showing posts from February, 2005
So, yes, been fucking ages since the last proper expurgitation (word? It is now!) of verbiage. Reasons being that my lifestyle has changed from North to South. What I mean is that polarity has become an issue - I have points of reference now. What was: Life of ease with a smidgen of well organised labour has, somehow, become an existence of labour with only a smidgen of life. But as Old Dear Ma has always said, it's quality not quantity. The sort of quality I need now resembles diamond. As in the carboniferous life I used to have has been squeezed to such an extent that I can chisel what I have left away and propose marriage with no fear over the expense of a very large and arm bending ring. Am I blessed or am I just beginning to sell out towards the almighty money exchange? I haven't lost any hair in the last two months of hard work. I am still grey free. I am fatter as I cannot make hockey practice (read as: two hours of flagellation) and I find the need to drink when I retur
Will and Chris posing as PVC clad muppets 
Will catching a cold one 
Orange Sunday closeup 
Fucking Fuck-Fuck. This fucking beautiful picture refuses to stand upright! It keeps fucking lying down and refusing to get the fuck up-up. Fuck it!
Orange Sunday Sunset, Widemouth Bay 
So, yeah, Bruce has bought a camera and cannot help himself. Cris the tatooist had his 30th on Saturday. Not exactly banging, more bass-slapping. You know, all down and funky, godforsakenly effective cocktails, the ones that taste of kiddies' fruit juice but impact like demented alcoholic three-headed hounds of hell upon your levels of inebriation, some exotic greenery and excellent company. Nice.
Bruce a little pissed, pre-party style 
Jase, looking overcome with hilarity 
Trish and Clair looking lubberly 
Birthday Boy Cris, looking like a happy muppeteer! 
Bruce, generally out of fucus