Have you ever been kicked in the face by a pretty girl with a pair of Doc Martens and thought you were having the time of your life? If yes, then there’s every chance you are either a sadomasochist – or you spent most of your teenage years stood, in a moshpit, less than six feet away from your musical idols. northernwrites – New Horizons (A Spotify playlist for you to enjoy – excuse Spotify’s limitations on early ’90s Indie Music) The boot in the face would regularly happen to me. It came with the territory. The bands we saw – the venues we frequented – it was just a night long cavalcade of head banging, stage diving and avoiding a fat bloke with gaffer
Monthly Archive:: August 2010
There are certain points in time that we are all supposed to remember exactly where we were, when something profound or ground breaking took place. My Mum claims to remember exactly where she was when JFK was assassinated. Others can recall where they were when man first set foot on the moon, or when Phil Collins played two gigs in one day for Live Aid. But then, that really is nothing compared to what I am about to share with you. For I can quite clearly remember where I was the day I first paid £2 for a pint. It was the same day that I realised England were rubbish at football – The date was the 17th June 1992. The place was The George
Welcome to my new blog. This is going to be somewhat of a work in progress to start with. I am going to need someone to design me a snazzy logo and no doubt teach me how to use WordPress properly. It’s also a rather busy time of year, so things may appear sporadically for the first couple of months or so – it’s just that I’ve been meaning to start a blog for some time and thought that if I didn’t at least set one up, I may never get round to doing it. Updates with links will start to appear on twitter as things progress. Expect plenty of nonsense on culturally significant nonentities, my disdain for anything new unless it involves food or