tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60516324704712646702024-03-13T08:05:53.956-07:00The Burden Of DreamsNo Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-47538001711673991462015-12-10T08:34:00.000-08:002015-12-10T08:34:24.838-08:00Snare / Without / Middle Of Things<pre wrap=""></pre>
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<pre wrap="">Mum's 55th birthday and I had to miss it. Work trip to Venice I'm sorry mum, but instead I can come over for dinner before I fly. Dinner turns into four pints at the pub and who am I to say no? We're having fun and it's her birthday and sure sounds great.
Bad move. Early night turns in to waking up at 1am and being unable to get back to sleep because tired because thirsty because hungover because aching all over and worrying about the press trip and all the things that could go wrong. Three hours later I get up from laying down staring at the ceiling and get a taxi from Ken to the airport. Italians instantly taking the piss because I'm not Italian, fixing taxi fees and generally being rude. The Guardian journalist Tshepo is nice and we get on well and I already know Menace Beach are sound so I'm happy that we'll all get along.
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<pre wrap="">The venue is mad, the show is mad, Italians are mad they all love Franz Ferdinand and the first Arctic Monkeys record and party likes its Indie heyday 2005 in a room with an aquarium. But pizza is good spritz is good and we get given toast with freshly made olive oil in a weird bar where everything is €2 and you think yeah Italy I could get used to this because the food and the wine is just unbelievable.
We drive in to Venice the next day, bright and sunny but brisk and we do the interview on the move abandon the band to the photographer and strike out on our own. Food is scarce on the ground with draconian eating hours but we have a laugh I see some Titian and we find food in the only place that's open, an 'Italian' cafe owned by Vietnamese people with the worst Italian food we've had all weekend but it's funny so we're aight. Flight back that night and I've had no sleep for two days and no vegetables (the hardest thing to find in Italy??) so when I'm home I'm so tired and eating as much veg as I can so as to not get ill before returning to Italy two days later to watch the sky Blues play Juve in the UCL.
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<pre wrap="">Right now I'm flying back from Rome to Frankfurt. Sipping on a tea, listening to Frank Ocean, feeling like my heart has been pumped full of twice the amount of blood and can't handle everything I feel right now. It's like I've been living a different life these past three days. But let's start from the beginning.
Turin. Well, not the most beautiful city in the world but that's not why we're here. The two flights go smoothly and I catch the coach to Porta Nuova station and walk to our b&b. It's pretty as hell and I grab a quick nap while I wait for Agy to turn up. She arrives and we get on so well together it's like we've not been apart these few months since I last saw her. We chat and get dressed and head to meet Hanadi and Romain. They're both fantastic. She's gorgeous and stylish and looks typically Parisian and she's a total sweetheart. He's tall and handsome and very funny despite speaking rather a small amount of English. But I really don't begrudge them talking in French because let's face it, I'm the ignorant one here. We head out for some wine and snacks in a little cafe for some getting to know Leah talk. Right after that we decide to head to Juve's ground as we have VIP tickets for a sit down meal so we don't want to be late. </pre>
<pre wrap="">It's an absolute 'mare trying to find a cab. Romain flags one down eventually and we're late to Juve already. When we get there the steward sends us completely the wrong way around the stadium so we're late again. Three sets of security measures in the fucking minus 3 temperature makes us all pissed off and when we get inside after a full hour and a half in the cold to a beautiful posh sit down meal I have fifteen fucking minutes to drink as much water as possible and eat three mouthfuls of warm butternut squash smoothie before making my way out to the seats. They're fantastic. Halfway line, with a screen on the back of the seat in front for replays. We quickly go 1-0 down and struggle to recover. Typical City. Half time is dessert and coffee and more water and back out to support the boys. Im the only one of the four of us out there for half an hour but I don't care. This team are why I'm here and I can't not watch it. Back inside after the game and everyone's fucking left. City's hospitality is genuinely so much better. We stand around for a bit watching their idiot zebra mascot dancing to no music and feeling the pain of our loss. But we get a cab rather easily this time and head to the Huntsman pub for a nightcap and to meet Matthew and Paul Maxey to talk about the game. We head back to the b&b around 1am and get an OK nights sleep before breakfast and heading to the station to catch our train to Rome at 10am. </pre>
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<pre wrap="">I take a nap and when I wake up, Agy and Hanadi return with lunch and I finally get to eat a salad in Italy! We talk about all sorts and get along great and the journey goes super quick through the bella Tuscan countryside. When we arrive in Rome we head to the hotel which is super near the station to check in and drop off our stuff. We've been sat on our asses for four hours on the train so we wanna get out and go for a walk. Agy takes us up one of Rome's seven hills and there's the first fantastic view of the city. From there it just got better and better. We walk all the way to Stadio Olympico for S.S Lazio vs Dynipro in the Europa league. We get there early and eat some delicious pizza and have a big bottle of Peroni each. </pre>
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<pre wrap="">We spy some other Brits in the room and they're kids in the navy come for the same reason we have, to sit in the Curva Nord and see all the ultras. Tickets are super cheap, €14, we get triple security AGAIN but get in quickly this time and get seats in the empty stand. The game is pretty fun, Lazio win 2-1 and we join in with chants of "Vaffanculo" before heading back to get a cab to a bar near the hotel. It's a free buffet and we planned to only have a nightcap but end up having so much fun we get totally pissed on wine and Aperol and whiskey shots. I get to know Hanadi and Romain much better, she's the editor of an online magazine and he works for Adidas in Paris. He says he'll send me some football boots. Not sure he's remembered that... We stumble back to the hotel laughing all the way and finally lay down to sleep about 2.30 am.</pre>
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Sore heads all round the next day but it was worth it. We have so much to see so we eat breakfast quickly and head out into the sunshine. We walk to the colosseum first before heading up a hill to an orange grove overlooking the city for the second amazing view of Rome. After that we get hungry and I feel dread hungover so Agy walks us to a suburb where the locals eat and takes us to a place (I think called Geese??) for the first most amazing meal in Rome. Cheeses and flatbreads and meats to start, with some delicious Chianti Classico. Main is gnocchi with tomato and cheese and basil and it is to die for. Romain and I share a tiramisu and it's the nicest I've ever eaten. All their food is homemade and you can tell. Homemade Italian food. I could die. Did I already say that?</pre>
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<pre wrap="">After that was over we really need to walk the food off so we head back to the city and just see everything. Churches, basilicas, opera houses, the most beautiful palazzos and piazzas and I just knew Roma would be beautiful but THIS beautiful? I didn't think it was possible. Every street is more beautiful than the next and it's so much quieter than London or Paris or even Manchester. We end the day by running a mile at General Agathe's instructions across the city to see the sunset over ancient ruins next to the spot where Roma was founded and there's our third beautiful view of the city. It's been an unbelievable day and I am in love with Roma. We walk back to the hotel for a few hours rest. We had walked 17K that day. </pre>
<pre wrap="">So we worked off that cheese and bread and gnocchi, huh? </pre>
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<pre wrap="">That evening we head to the student district for another amazing meal. We have more Chianti Classico and I have roasted squid and the most delicious artichoke I've ever tasted. It just melted on the tongue. A family owned restaurant I won't be forgetting in a hurry. We wash it down with more dessert and whiskey and head to one of the bars where everyone stands outside and we talk about fashion and culture and love and sex and everything under the moon and we constantly rib each other and I'm always laughing.
I love Rome. Not only is it breathtakingly beautiful but it's chill and people there enjoy life. There's laughter and drinking and politeness and not too many tourists at the end of November which is a blessing. The trees are the most beautiful I've seen. The buildings... Don't get me started. Thousands of years of history and I need to go back again and again and again and learn all I can about what everything means and where it came from and why.
We go back to the hotel and drink more wine and go on Romain's tinder. We all try on his glasses and try to walk down the steps in the room and it's totally impossible. I find that hilarious as do the others. I wonder how many English men I know could endure three days with three women all taking the piss out of him all the time? </pre>
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<pre wrap="">Our last day in Roma and we head to the Trevi. We make wishes and take photos and head to Vatican City. Another fantastic walk over the river and past the castle and we take it leisurely this time. I wonder how this City can still have so much beauty to offer after the perfect day yesterday but somehow it keeps delivering again and again. We sit for coffee and cake and cigarettes in the sunshine and I feel how tired I am. But it's good tired. That's the only way to do Rome in three days. Agy leads us again to a beautiful park and it's the most beautiful park I've ever been to. I want to stay there forever in a loop and never leave. There's an old man playing a strange citar and I have to give him money because he just made the atmosphere so pleasant and I was in love. When have I been to a city where someone like that complimented the area? He needed to be shown appreciation for that. We walk around the park for hours slowly drinking in the views and the trees and the calm before heading to a rooftop restaurant for one last pizza and Aperol. It's a fantastic spot and the sun is so warm it's like summer, a really fitting final meal of the trip. </pre>
<pre wrap="">We head back to the hotel, pick up the bags and head to the airport. Separate terminals and I'm gutted to leave them but luckily we can meet up inside for one final coffee and a farewell. I am genuinely so sad to leave Rome and leave Agy and my two new friends. I walk to the terminal with a heavy heart and a heavy head (and a heavy bag of Aperol and Chianti Classico) listening to Sango and Sampha and not wanting to go home. </pre>
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<pre wrap="">Roma, you got me, head and heart. I'll be seeing you again soon.
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No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-19431462446627966932015-06-25T12:30:00.002-07:002015-06-25T12:30:29.255-07:00The Lyre of Orpheus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-30012229511279334542015-06-25T11:30:00.001-07:002015-06-25T11:30:28.370-07:00Finishing Jubilee Street<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Roman Lakes, Cheshire. February 2015No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-50715677070360783492015-06-25T11:28:00.001-07:002015-06-25T11:28:06.259-07:00We Real Cool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cambridge Mills, Manchester & Roman Lakes, Cheshire, February 2015No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-20042264038535641842014-08-06T09:27:00.003-07:002014-08-06T09:28:14.319-07:00Don't Tell Em.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Stevenson's Square, Manchester. August 2014.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-26149466694676940392014-08-06T09:24:00.001-07:002014-08-06T09:24:29.874-07:00Talking Backwards.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Outside Manchester Cathedral, Sunday 2 August 2014. Almost 100 years to the day since the start of the First World War.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-77326365270806423242014-08-06T09:20:00.002-07:002014-08-06T09:20:58.641-07:00m.A.A.d city<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love a good double exposure.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-39100837558869240312014-04-04T08:19:00.000-07:002014-04-04T08:19:10.625-07:00New dawn fades.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-61185345280918974682013-08-16T04:17:00.002-07:002013-08-16T04:17:47.563-07:00Sunday.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Alicante, Spain. August 2013<br /><br />No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-17123301816465631132012-09-11T07:28:00.003-07:002012-09-11T07:28:57.886-07:00Boot Room - Manchester City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-83171174057279988002012-07-16T12:45:00.002-07:002012-07-16T12:45:39.817-07:00Cemetery Gates.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-2865444773476704792011-11-11T04:16:00.000-08:002011-11-11T04:18:26.934-08:00Rocking Horse.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvJlyKtIX_XrvP9arNxZbK0qVO0MYRq0zJ4bDq7Z3NJsWoVZjrlWZlqxRbzBQ3XFlw-s6cUqMwq0f_bLaTBRYC7IbRGd0yQZds-1YGup0JZBoCNDCLqSw8wRz1aafDJVYL7xzJlVUGQI/s1600/roberts.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvJlyKtIX_XrvP9arNxZbK0qVO0MYRq0zJ4bDq7Z3NJsWoVZjrlWZlqxRbzBQ3XFlw-s6cUqMwq0f_bLaTBRYC7IbRGd0yQZds-1YGup0JZBoCNDCLqSw8wRz1aafDJVYL7xzJlVUGQI/s400/roberts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673711318104072482" border="0" /></a><br />Unfotunately I think this is the last drunk photo I have of Pete that hasn't yet been on this blog. Give me until christmas and I'll have a whole bunch more.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-73899510867008493982011-11-11T04:14:00.000-08:002011-11-11T04:16:24.405-08:00Blood Brother.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_HVQTwDJiIcRYHYrOqkEo88-_I0qEcRNDXgwxjSA7Zg_7qYD63z-6LHgUsDW4EM-Ug0EvfTJ3TE0_hByMqdeOw8Rd-hBE_Y-_DT-gcBu0ValLLVqVpXRlIpTRpSwvoP9Zl7NecE_Cfw/s1600/newsarah.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_HVQTwDJiIcRYHYrOqkEo88-_I0qEcRNDXgwxjSA7Zg_7qYD63z-6LHgUsDW4EM-Ug0EvfTJ3TE0_hByMqdeOw8Rd-hBE_Y-_DT-gcBu0ValLLVqVpXRlIpTRpSwvoP9Zl7NecE_Cfw/s400/newsarah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673710634754846402" border="0" /></a>A<a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=508263031"> girl </a>with a rose and a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/stevesmythofficial">man</a> with a beard.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-8669879844304834372011-10-19T03:43:00.000-07:002011-10-19T03:49:38.319-07:00Mr Jeremy Fisher.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1shHnG7ERxBikrPtDQ2Bmb4o8DSTfSus1ZiQpoMBQRDE5x30IyvXlXh_MCcDHXi17qXHAtmoqFCsmn7RpebqGxs_VwvY40ruyNQt-5em-PFMuo8lbDPMpIfRMTgz6ZXGh6T63Q8dvd4/s1600/museum5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1shHnG7ERxBikrPtDQ2Bmb4o8DSTfSus1ZiQpoMBQRDE5x30IyvXlXh_MCcDHXi17qXHAtmoqFCsmn7RpebqGxs_VwvY40ruyNQt-5em-PFMuo8lbDPMpIfRMTgz6ZXGh6T63Q8dvd4/s400/museum5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665152848122650306" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWu_2qdAqatoMGHT92hGr_FF2ya5mPqcKDzXI4Hkry6N57PMsdgK2Y12IH6nW9iFFNSM95qZWkVbuys5UcD3hi2fbbEZi0P-AjNHGUXQEj7AjrrvnzU0jLqjE_n0Syf2el2buYDhlMv5I/s1600/museum3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWu_2qdAqatoMGHT92hGr_FF2ya5mPqcKDzXI4Hkry6N57PMsdgK2Y12IH6nW9iFFNSM95qZWkVbuys5UcD3hi2fbbEZi0P-AjNHGUXQEj7AjrrvnzU0jLqjE_n0Syf2el2buYDhlMv5I/s400/museum3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665152846193068226" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolouNukHFTOMwmzabwvHWn_CSfJHEF6LXZFKiRmxQNZwijIDkUGjNob74wsARSP83HzV_zvbfleAj_basQnAqNVxWtxIzGLmxYuEOyH3LFJWwNxnxRaHhaAa-jJla_VlgYhlvpMCJfCM/s1600/museum4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolouNukHFTOMwmzabwvHWn_CSfJHEF6LXZFKiRmxQNZwijIDkUGjNob74wsARSP83HzV_zvbfleAj_basQnAqNVxWtxIzGLmxYuEOyH3LFJWwNxnxRaHhaAa-jJla_VlgYhlvpMCJfCM/s400/museum4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665152860271610338" border="0" /></a><br />Our favourite place in London, the British museum.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-29565106442188798382011-10-07T05:40:00.000-07:002011-10-07T06:02:03.649-07:00Final Flight.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlv0p_zfFPaa4l25NoLeMT7_3N2wUlCVcwxdZcKfJ-7X8nFSNqd63BmyLiyLGnYTdfTd1Kf3Pzh8wpzL16c6j2LnIqNHzsV1hknBWL6yodBAcBLhzo8Fx7u8TEb0wl9WgulKF0sJxK6M/s1600/beerfest6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlv0p_zfFPaa4l25NoLeMT7_3N2wUlCVcwxdZcKfJ-7X8nFSNqd63BmyLiyLGnYTdfTd1Kf3Pzh8wpzL16c6j2LnIqNHzsV1hknBWL6yodBAcBLhzo8Fx7u8TEb0wl9WgulKF0sJxK6M/s400/beerfest6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660730957592788530" border="0" /></a><br /><h2 style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Chic Brodie and a dog</span><br /></h2><p>In November 1965, at Griffin Park, Brentford keeper Chic Brodie was milling around his own penalty area, minding his net and his own business, as you do, when he spotted a hand grenade in his goalmouth. It had been dispatched from the away end – populated by jaunty funsters from Millwall – and the firing mechanism had been removed. Luckily the thing failed to go off, and was removed in a bucket of sand by – credit where it's due to the boys in blue – a very brave peeler. Bottles were also wheeched on to the pitch. At the end of the game fighting broke out, and Millwall keeper Alex Stepney was attacked by some other nutter, who was at least only throwing hands and not munitions.</p><p>Anyway, Brodie must have used up all his on-pitch luck that day, because five years later at Colchester United, the keeper came out to gather a shot and was knocked out by a white dog that had taken to the pitch and was bowling for the ball at speed. "There was no confirmation of the rumour that Brodie's shins were barked," brayed the Observer's Football Round-Up man Ronald Atkin. Guffaws all round for the pun, though sadly the stripping of a bit of skin from flesh wasn't the sum total of Brodie's injury; his knee was shattered to pieces, and he would never play league football again. He did come up against league opposition a year later, though, on the comeback trail at non-league Margate – whereupon Bournemouth put 11 goals past him in a first-round FA Cup tie (Ted McDougall scoring nine). Yes, it's probably safe to say he used up all that luck with the grenade.</p>No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-79017565120849829312011-10-05T08:16:00.000-07:002011-10-06T08:46:51.599-07:00At Twilight.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihWxBPYsZ0ubDSb7Z2Y6-kWWZs5hpMQ-71ISI2V5TyuNbPF5D5I1LxdBDZbZ9K1qvEWXBraRCMLGhcrvZCSFgrtD3M8ZxLFrFjVrazYX3BhyphenhyphenaW5OvAbuZR_3B4Js2F_tBuXb21brnTbw/s1600/newkiss.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihWxBPYsZ0ubDSb7Z2Y6-kWWZs5hpMQ-71ISI2V5TyuNbPF5D5I1LxdBDZbZ9K1qvEWXBraRCMLGhcrvZCSFgrtD3M8ZxLFrFjVrazYX3BhyphenhyphenaW5OvAbuZR_3B4Js2F_tBuXb21brnTbw/s400/newkiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660027539693338626" border="0" /></a><br />These may be two people I don't know but in my opinion if you're in a public place and displaying your affection so obviously, you deserve to be photographed and put on a blog.<br /><br />Plus it could have been worse guys, my camera wasn't ready when he had his hand up her top.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-84624565109494623812011-10-05T08:13:00.000-07:002011-10-05T08:16:29.483-07:00Race for the Prize.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24ReKbzoW1Rt_ibL6QffR8pHHYraj4L0XG3RWOVG-kSpWw6btJInfFXz-B9GjPM_RRFrbXkAJZALNqVfcHwyCS_iU6sFe1ZVFgHUVTzp7xSajh3D9J2gLFmzYKxewJughzCpZWiwTHhA/s1600/newflaminglips.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24ReKbzoW1Rt_ibL6QffR8pHHYraj4L0XG3RWOVG-kSpWw6btJInfFXz-B9GjPM_RRFrbXkAJZALNqVfcHwyCS_iU6sFe1ZVFgHUVTzp7xSajh3D9J2gLFmzYKxewJughzCpZWiwTHhA/s400/newflaminglips.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660026726510657874" border="0" /></a>The Flaming Lips at Alexandra Palace, LondonNo Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-58638267847626085282011-10-04T07:13:00.001-07:002011-10-04T07:17:56.334-07:00Blue Moon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnNEePsGFUfzZx2RWCBhnx-IeSqHfMVE4zIvW040-beloFo8vQv-eadF6WY834gjfhqrWHjfASQlwre4i39hM1YB5IkVeo8Bli2cTz88FsaRt2UY-BDHMxW1_0RGZyxTtZW3WlB1ZP2U/s1600/city.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnNEePsGFUfzZx2RWCBhnx-IeSqHfMVE4zIvW040-beloFo8vQv-eadF6WY834gjfhqrWHjfASQlwre4i39hM1YB5IkVeo8Bli2cTz88FsaRt2UY-BDHMxW1_0RGZyxTtZW3WlB1ZP2U/s400/city.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659640249683063474" border="0" /></a><br />At the Etihad Stadium for Manchester City vs. Everton, 24th October 2011.<br /><br />I shot this on a 1986 Canon sure shot Supreme with kodak portra 400 film.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-63341588791518729042011-09-30T04:15:00.000-07:002011-09-30T04:17:22.467-07:00Love Me Do.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_jg-Z42fkBkX3SIzyAApciN-QHhGXJOiBZaVuIzKaBNhi9CNfRt9A2xk7NKOYqGfdD1GJf14AXMOjsnaKjP8twIUwzXzNEsvXXUOZXv2cLNRdZY6LlXlr7UU1BrXgulPBFSDGNhpdNI/s1600/newbondstreet.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_jg-Z42fkBkX3SIzyAApciN-QHhGXJOiBZaVuIzKaBNhi9CNfRt9A2xk7NKOYqGfdD1GJf14AXMOjsnaKjP8twIUwzXzNEsvXXUOZXv2cLNRdZY6LlXlr7UU1BrXgulPBFSDGNhpdNI/s400/newbondstreet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658109936190190946" border="0" /></a><br />Oh Moschino, if only your clothes were as good as your window displays.<br /><br />New Bond Street, last week.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-42232940751593598362011-09-29T07:27:00.000-07:002011-09-29T07:30:35.701-07:00Black Trees.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU29l-IbknDcuUGUoe15dlB9THTSwWWR8l-KK5TChfwE5CQH0ZUjcAaTGLv1gWblDAxeli7tvCK3qXXnEFIUpdm_RjE32zEAVVQKJnjkmtGR9EAdfZoif2fUSlK7r0jEXHrOO8duDE-v0/s1600/royalfestivalhall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU29l-IbknDcuUGUoe15dlB9THTSwWWR8l-KK5TChfwE5CQH0ZUjcAaTGLv1gWblDAxeli7tvCK3qXXnEFIUpdm_RjE32zEAVVQKJnjkmtGR9EAdfZoif2fUSlK7r0jEXHrOO8duDE-v0/s400/royalfestivalhall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657788665322066626" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYh7Z6rAosNI-a7pHGZePnWCJbHWyCQJXk6aG1DKSakCMdYqWLgtk293r-a9ddhN_0T9AOcaG-QtbWyUw-9jIuWNU46e6DI-7xjj0XxWpldKC81s5jClocsHyhPBBvMEA3ZFFBhTV4NA/s1600/royalfestivalhall3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYh7Z6rAosNI-a7pHGZePnWCJbHWyCQJXk6aG1DKSakCMdYqWLgtk293r-a9ddhN_0T9AOcaG-QtbWyUw-9jIuWNU46e6DI-7xjj0XxWpldKC81s5jClocsHyhPBBvMEA3ZFFBhTV4NA/s400/royalfestivalhall3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657788673912809250" border="0" /></a>No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-30001958237319808612011-09-28T08:00:00.000-07:002011-09-28T08:02:36.863-07:00Scratch The Surface.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0TfS_4FonAQOjLS0KulAC2e6PYDQmv9DKFrFBE2Hl_6jn8dZdVvVQk9J6CyO0UWfwkIcLTHVw9derb5RCx3qBPDsq1jj6lFniIbHkcp88Z2bagqJlA5auFo-yaFF2yq2c3yTxCucwXY/s1600/birthday.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0TfS_4FonAQOjLS0KulAC2e6PYDQmv9DKFrFBE2Hl_6jn8dZdVvVQk9J6CyO0UWfwkIcLTHVw9derb5RCx3qBPDsq1jj6lFniIbHkcp88Z2bagqJlA5auFo-yaFF2yq2c3yTxCucwXY/s400/birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657425779015065986" border="0" /></a><br />It were Lee's birthday last week, but we couldn't find all the candles to spell out 'Happy Birthday'.<br /><br />If you look closer, you can see that instead we made it say 'Apt Bird'.<br /><br />He was happy with that.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-14840928991462691442011-09-27T06:18:00.000-07:002011-09-27T06:26:51.674-07:00Slagsmalsklubben.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhag_4i2-YdewJx7wBd6hhQwCL-ce4jdH3nOztYKyuPi6xIstHqsDSLkeso3iDeTz7nDc_NywhisMXJPYESxpUuD0_OQRvlklJMTqlhNv4Ujo5OPDhC9KPmuyLVfeedLAJ6S7hFX2u90y4/s1600/royalfestivalhall5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhag_4i2-YdewJx7wBd6hhQwCL-ce4jdH3nOztYKyuPi6xIstHqsDSLkeso3iDeTz7nDc_NywhisMXJPYESxpUuD0_OQRvlklJMTqlhNv4Ujo5OPDhC9KPmuyLVfeedLAJ6S7hFX2u90y4/s400/royalfestivalhall5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657029609228092466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib57AF-kv2YZnVB5cPRbvqN2icBsE6C3LUkg3ebf8lgtfa2jWhy-ShFun1U9l5jdd4NNNrzxf3L7nqAiPBHePRlciWtC5rSsztJpf-dFZd7C0RkgTm3EbwW5Fgedgz3GfijyPpIzr2qKM/s1600/royalfestivalhall4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib57AF-kv2YZnVB5cPRbvqN2icBsE6C3LUkg3ebf8lgtfa2jWhy-ShFun1U9l5jdd4NNNrzxf3L7nqAiPBHePRlciWtC5rSsztJpf-dFZd7C0RkgTm3EbwW5Fgedgz3GfijyPpIzr2qKM/s400/royalfestivalhall4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657029616286799346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYx57wL-VwwCm5M1_IJZ_gkrOupbkbTI0tHQiFXeZpAY5OtTFcMvWAM8urenrHF-wQjWW9Z5DkbQ8UIDZA4YhUsZatLxvJvh7PUssQtiSCeFmIwtwXKiirmipkvjMwSCPigZIVlzI8NRc/s1600/royalfestivalhall6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYx57wL-VwwCm5M1_IJZ_gkrOupbkbTI0tHQiFXeZpAY5OtTFcMvWAM8urenrHF-wQjWW9Z5DkbQ8UIDZA4YhUsZatLxvJvh7PUssQtiSCeFmIwtwXKiirmipkvjMwSCPigZIVlzI8NRc/s400/royalfestivalhall6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657028493385716674" border="0" /></a>We only just discovered the Royal Festival Hall, and now I tell everyone about it. The Royal Festival Hall is an open building- an unusual thing in 2011 London. A public building that truly is open to the public. You can come and go as you like, 4 floors open to use as you like- to hire out or to just wander around. We did just that, walking the corridors and peering in to rooms, and we discovered a balcony on the top floor of the building overlooking the Thames, with tables and chairs. We rushed to a newsagents to buy some cheap beers and snacks and headed back to sit, catch up and watch the sun set; having met up just before the start of the film 'The Great White Silence' at the BFI.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-38013730927486605822011-09-27T06:16:00.000-07:002011-09-27T06:18:26.062-07:00Baby Missiles.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0jSPwrTCrI-LE4BoLd0k87H7gNPA2wjQioMUkX8XN3ggfTyQqFUJG0_yciGRIKWEsQpBzsNrwzIpgogavnq9oang-BLdm2P1PiImBrhRrz7-MmTqMeqrk3bnJp30woirxonnuR68SG8/s1600/beerfest3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0jSPwrTCrI-LE4BoLd0k87H7gNPA2wjQioMUkX8XN3ggfTyQqFUJG0_yciGRIKWEsQpBzsNrwzIpgogavnq9oang-BLdm2P1PiImBrhRrz7-MmTqMeqrk3bnJp30woirxonnuR68SG8/s400/beerfest3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657027943693455442" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRi0D1O57vXjjQK4tW9yQ_50QSwmgo3XaYagmsD8p694FoJ-Z3bea3jdtVqCwzz2r9IFJX14YFTV_gNi33O6Six2PFZaUnmeADay0uMPCWFKrp1YZGRwC-MpSdttzPM5TBuGfZIr0NlH4/s1600/beerfest4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRi0D1O57vXjjQK4tW9yQ_50QSwmgo3XaYagmsD8p694FoJ-Z3bea3jdtVqCwzz2r9IFJX14YFTV_gNi33O6Six2PFZaUnmeADay0uMPCWFKrp1YZGRwC-MpSdttzPM5TBuGfZIr0NlH4/s400/beerfest4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657027943948899842" border="0" /></a>Pete from Dutch Uncles attending Marple Beer Festival, 23rd Sept 2011.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-62148521221804093092011-07-22T07:35:00.001-07:002011-07-22T07:35:50.333-07:00Shell Suite.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6U5NIustlikJdzQsoVydQaZG3zljkljlh_AbbSAG9AagompnoenFjhcxppqaVpe7-MrMO6sCl0IC161_KxfI-_nbR6NiK-OkKnHYIh1ByS4CmlTRcJCIVUy-lyGz3XKeoT_9_6THxIw/s1600/gate.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6U5NIustlikJdzQsoVydQaZG3zljkljlh_AbbSAG9AagompnoenFjhcxppqaVpe7-MrMO6sCl0IC161_KxfI-_nbR6NiK-OkKnHYIh1ByS4CmlTRcJCIVUy-lyGz3XKeoT_9_6THxIw/s400/gate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632185303807272226" border="0" /></a><br />Rose garden.<br />Rolvenden, Kent, June 2011.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051632470471264670.post-91555541116049832492011-07-08T04:38:00.000-07:002011-07-14T08:22:22.049-07:00Happy Days!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxtF9v3b-gP3s8Jgpom1sUfB4brUVu5qYdKFFKqck2O60cOxa92RGBsOpk2gtnSy4Hugw4otWEF0QVEezvg8RT_-JFpOaZnSqy09lDe4W-FnafV4wweJHhX7bvyqaw4li_FS_lRul9fI/s1600/garden.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxtF9v3b-gP3s8Jgpom1sUfB4brUVu5qYdKFFKqck2O60cOxa92RGBsOpk2gtnSy4Hugw4otWEF0QVEezvg8RT_-JFpOaZnSqy09lDe4W-FnafV4wweJHhX7bvyqaw4li_FS_lRul9fI/s400/garden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626945005585964466" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdjYjZKjP-bd1Q8zvtPu5Sg6Qx8uXtAutrB5cTl-z-o15RDXkQvOurhrpPsf1agx5pTTXNq1HmbhaLGv46G85Pje8TbqbsHUfke2tMy8esBy5AKeGyuCCOur8dZtng6S-asI5N0lTuD8/s1600/denhaag.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdjYjZKjP-bd1Q8zvtPu5Sg6Qx8uXtAutrB5cTl-z-o15RDXkQvOurhrpPsf1agx5pTTXNq1HmbhaLGv46G85Pje8TbqbsHUfke2tMy8esBy5AKeGyuCCOur8dZtng6S-asI5N0lTuD8/s400/denhaag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626945010809787058" border="0" /></a><br />Got to love mainland Europe.<br />Den Haag, Holland. May 2011.No Salvationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14241142470310931428noreply@blogger.com0