The Wronged Tree.

The back lane, this new-year dawn, is littered, bleakly - tumbled bins, spent bottles, knuckled tabs, sodden boxes; hound shites, plastic wraps, a quilted headboard, yellowed hand towel; wrapping-paper tumbleweeds troubling parked cars; a bloody gown of herring gull (gutting something); and the last, the very last, or the first, Christmas tree, skulking and skittling … Continue reading The Wronged Tree.

Notes from a Fragile Island. 8

18th December 2004 (Croydon) Pre-gig hot loving. Will fucking on the stairs become blasé in 2005? The venue is rammed, which only adds to my nerves as all lyrics and chords start to slip away. Try to hide in the far corner. Chat inanely to Joel J and John F, both of whom meet PS … Continue reading Notes from a Fragile Island. 8