August 10 2015 Croydon The shopping centre reeks of men's hair product. The haircut remains the traditional short-back and sides, but edges toward something quite Hitlerite of late. There are too many men sporting baseball caps. Too many men in tight or ill-fitting sportswear. Too many oversized tee shirts proclaiming Old Guys Rule, Pink Floyd … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island…28
Tag: diaries
Notes From a Fragile Island…27
July 4 2003 Carshalton. Green puddles of hard plastic are welded to the pavement. A number of wheelie bins have been torched outside the flats. One of them appears to have melted completely. A toxic stench permeates the scruffy forecourt, but the birds still sing and a crow hops up and down among scraps of … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island…27
Notes From a Fragile Island…26
January 8 1999 Walcott Street. The morning rain is heavy. A and I struggle our amps and guitars up Walcott Street toward the Hat & Feather where we have hired the back room to teach his brother, G, our short, Shit-Pop set for the Moles gig. When we get to the top of Walcott Street, … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island…26
Notes From a Fragile Island. 25
December 1st 2005 Croydon Up the stepladder in the stockroom looking for a new bottle of stain remover for H, who is hungover. She has left a tidemark of medium brown tint on her client's forehead giving her a comedic Frankenstein's monster look. In the 80s everyone used ash from the ashtray and a cotton … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 25
Swastika Décor.
Jack had a spare for J. Lydon’s book chat event at Whitley Bay’s Playhouse last week. (Book chat? Book shat, more like, I didn’t say.) It was kind of him to think of me. The show had been postponed from last year. The queue winds three sides of the theatre, beach front, side street, back … Continue reading Swastika Décor.
Notes From a Fragile Island. 24
October 10 2004 Croydon Blue. Click clack click clack. Footsteps behind me. A wonderful, feminine clatter spills across the concrete and glass and Saint George's applauds and so do the pigeons and so do I. The arcade, everything, is suddenly charged: electric. I fall into a stroll and her footsteps fall in beside me. Fingers … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 24