A couple of weeks ago I was walking alone around Willen Lake, which is a lovely big lake in Milton Keynes famed for it’s wakeboarding circuit and abundance of swans and geese and other wildlife. The weather was sweltering, and I was looking for a patch of lakeside grass to plonk myself on for an hour or two where I could enjoy the cool breeze off the water, whilst flicking through a knitting mag and listening to some rousing oompah music on my Spotify. Continue reading
A sudden sharp intake of breath.
Oh God! Oh fucking God! What is this? Where am I?
Light dapples through the darkness, turning into thick, white, distorted lazer beams as the rays are captured and bent and twisted by my mangled eyelashes and my thick, crusty eye-goop.
I roll over and push my face down into the pillow. Force myself back towards the warm world of sleep, and dreams about exotic sports cars, and roller coasters built in strangely familiar places, and sex with fat women. Anything to avoid having to think about what awaits me beyond these eyelids. If only they could be locked down and used to keep the outside world away – like a couple of sturdy rusted portcullises; keeping me merrily oblivious to the land outside of this fogged, befuddled head. I consider, for a second, that that may be the experience of coma sufferers. Cut off from everything in front of the eyes, and left floating in a strange galaxy of dreams, limited only by the imagination of the vegetative party. Continue reading
When you have a drinking problem, you don’t just have a couple of drinks and then stop. That’s kind of what a drinking problem is. This means that whatever your choice of drink is – you are going to drink it in a substantial quantity. Anything taken in huge quantities – even healthy stuff like fruit – is going to have some sort of effect on your stomach. This seems to be especially true with pints of beer – whenever else would you even consider drinking 10 pints of the exact same liquid?? The effects are unlikely to be good. I found this out the hard way.
I’ve known Seaweed for a lot of years now. We were always part of the same little punk/rock scene, in the same little West Yorkshire town, hanging around in the same little pubs.
He has an immense beard.
A life connected to any kind of active ‘scene’ is generally a life connected to a drinking culture. It’s just the way it goes – these whole social scenes are booze-centric – and why not?