Sunday, 24 November 2013
Been a while....
Forgot my password for this blog, just worked it out again. Ho hum.... Thats why it has not been updated for a while.
At present I am working in Dungeness Nuclear power station, hoping I dont end up looking like Homer Simpson!
I have another bike, got a bargain FJ1200 in really good condition, did 3k on it in 6 weeks then needed a front tyre, so its waiting under a cover for that. Should be able to afford one at the end of this month.
Been writing a book and am so far about halfway through, struggling to get it finished because of working again...
Got a few ideas for other books and some short stories too, I have a finished short story called Encounter, which I am tempted to put on here just to get some feedback.
I shall update this a bit more often now!
laters folks!
Jake
Sunday, 3 June 2012
No bike!!!
10th Feb 2011, on my 56th birthday, I sold my ZZR1100, it needed some work and had no money or anywhere to work on it. I had been riding since my 16th birthday (A little before that really …) and have rarely been without a running motorbike, now I find myself desperate to acquire another.
I thought reaching my late 50's might temper my desire for a motorbike, but no, if anything its worse, every time I hear one go past there is a twinge in my heart, especially if its an old Brit.
I have this yearning to sell everything, pack some gear, throw Ruth on the pillion and head for Europe, I really need to get away and travel again. Really missing cruising down the roads to the south f France, down through St Remy, Les Baux and on to Arles, fantastic biking roads. Across the plains of Spain to Granada. Down the west coast of Portugal, form Estoril all the way to Capo Rosa.
This is what I want to do before I hit 60, I think its time to sell the VW camper and just do it. The craving for a really mental bike has gone*, I fancy something like another FJ1200 or maybe an early SOHC 750 Honda, fantasy bike? A late 70's T140v export, would love to do a run down to the Algarve or Cadiz on one.
This WILL happen, I will sort it out, I just hope it doesnt take too long....
*Although there is a Firestorm up the road for £700...... probably do my back in though...
Monday, 20 June 2011
“Up, down or sideways?” 70's-80's drug memories.
Had a chat with someone the other day about the 70's, they were not a friend and I do not remember meeting them at the time, but we moved in similar circles and appear to have known the same people at one time or another. During the conversation she mentioned a few clubs and pubs that we used to frequent and the phrase “Up, down or sideways?” came up and that got me thinking about the past. I must warn you though, I have a few memory problems so I may, in fact probably will, get some of my facts mixed up, essentially though what you are going to read here is true, maybe with a bit of artistic licence throw in.
I was brought up in Battersea, about 5 minutes walk from the park, as a matter of course I started my drinking in the pubs around Battersea park road, nice pubs and easy staggering distance, I wasn't really one of the 'bad 'uns' as my mum loved to call them, but I did know most of them. I was one of those youngsters that was badly bullied at school and a bit after, until I started to fight back, that old adage about bullies will back down if you stand up to them is utter rubbish! Most kicked the crap out of me until I learned how to fight... in a slightly different way.
My first experience with drugs came after I got a pasting by two blokes outside the Prince of Wales pub, a mate had helped me back to the my flat and on the way a bloke handed us a joint saying "You look like you need this more than me...", my first puff didn't seem to do anything, but it did take away the pain by the fourth or fifth, I have no idea what was in that joint and cant remember ever seeing that bloke again.
By now I had acquired my second motorbike, my first at 16 was a 1968 BSA Bantam, I had since moved up a notch and got a BSA 441SS (NPP 70H), on this I started riding around with some bikers I had met at the County Arms in Wandsworth and had started riding it up to the Chelsea bridge tea stall which was a common meeting place back then. I had been to Chelsea bridge a lot previously to watch the bikes, as I lived 10 minutes walk away.
Most of them smoked some form of cannabis, my mates and myself mainly stuck to types like cheap nasty soap bar (Cannabis mixed with.. well anything really.) or if it turned up and we had the money, Lebanese gold and a really nice type we called squidgy black, of course these memories may be a bit rose-tinted. We used to smoke either sitting outside pubs in the summer or if the weather was bad, back at a mates place, there were a few pubs you could get away with smoking inside, but most kicked you out if you were caught, nightclubs or music venues were better bets. Speed was another popular drug then, it was the party drug of the 70's from our point of view, it kept you awake all night no matter how much you drank and sex could last for ages, giving you a bit of a reputation with the ladies.
Around that time my friend Clive and I went to a party in the Mansions along Prince of Wales drive, I think we were invited by two very posh sisters, not really sure now, I was 17/18, had very long hair, deep blue eyes, blue velvet jacket and black satin loons (Very tight trousers), finished off with a pair of not very genuine cowboy boots. Well.. this was 1972/3.
We had not been there long just drinking vodka, when a joint was passed to us, cool we thought, of course by now we were now experts on the stuff!
I nearly puked my lungs up! Then my head felt like it was about 4 foot above my body, the room span around and I fell to floor freaking out. What the hell was in that? It frightened the life out of me, everyone was laughing and I could not controI my legs, I later found out that it was something called Banano (Cannabis mixed with cocaine? if I remember right) enough for four rolled into one joint apparently. The rest of the evening, once I calmed down, was a blur, I do remember laughing a hell of a lot and snogging some bird for hours, there is also a vague memory of someone threatening me with 'I'll cut your eyes out with a knife' I think it may have been his girlfriend I was having fun with.
The following Sunday I saw the person who's flat had been the base for the party, someone had told him my age, he could not apologise enough to me and he asked if I had got home ok, they had also told him it was my first time 'taking drugs' and he was mortified. He was quite a famous actor in some long running 70's drama (No more clues), but because I rarely watched television I had no idea who he was at the time, he bought me a pint in the Duke of Cambridge as a apology and it was then that I twigged he was gay! It was no problem once I made it clear I was not interested though. Pete (not his real name) and myself went to a few parties in the Battersea and Chelsea area in the early 70's, I think because I had long hair and blue eyes he liked to show me off to his showbiz friends, I never did ask if they thought I was his lover, I was a bit naïve then . It was certainly an eye opener, within weeks I had been introduced to a world very different from the one my bikers mates were in and the best thing is I don't ever remember having to pay for anything. Drugs were everywhere, coke was freely available and along with cannabis could be picked up anywhere we went, I met a lot of famous people at this time, but none really made an impact on me, although I was young and impressionable I thought most of the actors and big rock stars I met were twats. Worst of all were the managers, producers and hangers on, all riding on the coat tails of the famous and handing out drugs just to keep in with them. Some of the well known people I met were unpardonably rude to others, yet people treated them almost in a godlike way.
Now at this time heroin was rearing its ugly head in my world, a lot of the parties in the Chelsea seemed to have the same men at each one handing out 'free' samples and offering to show you how to take it, most started by smoking it off of tinfoil (chasing the dragon) I did not bother trying it after watching the state some of them got into taking it. To be honest I think I was too scared to try it.
There were always lots of very pretty and very stoned girls around, as a young man with normal urges it was a great time for me, although I did tend to wake up in strange flats miles from home on occasion. Once after getting completely mashed at a party in Kensington, I woke up in a very big house somewhere in Surrey with a gorgeous girl in her late 20's. I was still very high and crept out of the house to find a Rolls Royce, big American car of some kind, an Aston Martin DB3(?) and a couple of rare motorbikes parked outside. Must have walked for miles until I reached the A3 and then thumbed a lift, not a clue where I had been though, neither do I have any idea why I did not hang around or wake the girl up, Pete later thought that the girl was related to Keith Emerson, but I'm not so sure even though it was apparently one of his parties I met her at, I do not remember ever seeing her again.
I kept that part of my life separate from my other friends as I had started on the road to being a 'proper' biker and mostly we had drank alcohol, but now I started making inroads into what drugs were available in our circle, all of them as it turned out.
One of the pubs we frequented was the Fountain at the bottom end of Garrat lane in Wandsworth, I think it was Mondays we mainly went there, a rock and roll band called CSA played on a regular basis and were quite good, we scored a lot of dope there.
There were also back patch members in there, I had never really had any dealings with back patch club members until the Fountain, and to be honest I never really had a problem with them, one lived in Merton road and helped me a lot in finding bits for my BSA441SS, it was him that found a four valve CCM head for me. Can I remember his name? Nope, but that's probably not a bad thing.
Outside one particular pub in Tooting, there was always this skinny very long haired bloke hanging around, I think he was barred from entering the pub because I never ever saw him inside, someone would always take a drink out to him though, rain or shine he would be out there and he seemed to have loads of friends.
Of course, he was a dealer, and he would ask people “Up, down or sideways?” like a kind of catchphrase, when I started buying from him, I learned very quickly that whatever the first price he asked for, just turn and walk away, "15, go on you know its good stuff!" "Taking the piss mate, forget it..." before you had gone 3 steps the price had dropped to around half what he originally asked. I think it was just a silly game he enjoyed, everyone did it with him.
One day he wasn't there any more, I was later told he had overdosed on heroin, he was 32 and I never actually knew his name.
As I started to move in more exciting circles, I also started to learn which drugs were available and very quickly which to avoid, my favourite was speed, preferably in the form of small tablets called blues.
Weekends were this strange round of popping loads of blues on a Friday night, and then somewhere between 2am and 4am, depending on where we ended up, we would switch to moggies, (Mogadon or Qualudes in the US of A) so we could sleep, if we did not have Moggies, the next best thing were Tunial (I think we called them traffic lights) but they had a much harsher effect on me, if I had had any alcohol and took one I would go nuts before falling asleep wherever I was.
We also called moggies 'wobblers' as we played this game sometimes where we would drop a couple at home and then try to get to the pub before our legs gave out, they always seemed to work from the feet up especially if you had had a drink first, after about 15 minutes your knees felt like they were on the wrong way round. They were a barbiturate and we would have to pop some blues to make sure we didn't fall asleep, this led to some strange sights as the evenings wore on, I remember Gary outside the County Arms (by Wandsworth prison) he would be chatting away then his head would fall forward and he would start snoring, then after a few minutes his head would snap back up and he would carry on as if nothing had happened, he would repeat this for about an hour then collapse.
Mostly though we took speed, the downers, Moggies and Tunial, stopped us from riding, speed did not.
My first experience with acid happened outside the County, some hippies we knew had just driven back from Amsterdam (again) in an old Commer van, it had been sort of converted to a camper, well it had a mattress in the back and camping stove. We were all sitting on the grass outside the pub, when the van pulled up, two of the hippies, Mickey and Tarquin the poof (he wasn't a poof really, but come on, what would you call a hippie called Tarquin? We always though he was called Bob, until we all got pulled up by the police one day and he had to give his real name) Mickey was floating about 4 foot above the pavement, he seemed to glide over to us, he was laughing at the lamp post and talking to someone who wasn't there, Tarquin just stared at everyone, one after the other, then started asking if one of us was really a dragon in disguise, and they had driven to the pub!!!
We got them sat down and poured a few drinks down them, this seemed to help. Then Mickey started handing out some small bits of blotting paper with little faces printed on them, possibly fat Freddies cat? They were about an 1/8th of inch across and looked completely harmless, I stuck a couple in my wallet.
I had been given a lift up to the pub by Dave, for a big bad biker, Dave looked like a big cuddly teddy bear and was really quite a quiet bloke, we were chatting and he said why don't you drop a blotter and tell us what happens. I agreed and took out one of the blotters, putting it on my tongue I was now watching Tarquin, he was crawling around and muttering about living in the jungle and giant ants??? Er......
A took a big swig from my pint glass and sat back and waited for something to happen. Nothing.
This is a waste of time I thought, as I finished my pint about 20 minutes later, then stood up to go to the bar, I looked down and.. fucking hell, the ground was miles away, I grabbed Dave and started shouting at him to help me down, he just looked puzzled and a bit scared. He helped me sit down again on the grass, which was trying to pull me to one side, I was now getting really scared, I looked up at the parked cars outside the pub and one started winking at me, another looked at me disdainfully, as if it knew what foul illegal substance I had been taking.
Then a giant hand reached for me and a voice boomed inside my head "Are you alright Jake?" "Fuck no!! What's going on!!!!!!" Cars passing by on Trinity road seemed to take hours to go past, then they would accelerate until they were blurred streaks, the blurry streaks stayed there on the road, slowly fading away upwards into the starry sky. Oh, big mistake, I looked up into the night sky at the millions and millions of bright flashing stars, stars which had started flashing a secret message, but the drug was messing with my head and I could not understand the message, the stars started to flow into words, gradually they started to make sense.
Then a loud voice startled me and the stars went back to normal, Dave was calling to me, what was he saying? “Get out of the road??” Then a gorgeous angel appeared, it floated out of the pub, took me by the hand, walked me back to the grass outside the pub and sat me down, it talked gently to me and explained what was happening. The angel was actually a mates girlfriend, she had known a few people flip out on acid and found that talking calmly helped to bring them down again, she also poured loads of orange juice down my throat, vitamin C did seem to help.
Once I had calmed down the rest of the evening passed on cloud 9, I felt like I was wrapped in cotton wool and that at one point everyone was speaking in perfect German which I understood with no problem at all. The best bit was the ride home on the back of Dave's bike, this is one of the few things I remember very clearly about that trip, everything was the wrong colour, there was even a new colour, although I don’t quite remember what it was now.
Acid always had one strange effect on me, every time I took it I knew that there were green beavers hiding somewhere nearby, but I never managed to find them, this obsession with green beavers became quite a joke with my friends. Some people think of acid as a mind expanding drug, I never thought this, it was just fun, I never had any 'revelations' or suddenly understood the inner working of the universe like some people, it just made things different.
I didn't really bother going back to Pete and his group of friends after getting into the bike scene a lot more, I found the 'Chelsea' set rather boring and most were so far up their own arses it was just annoying being around them, especially after knocking about with the bikers I identified with now, you could not compare drug fuelled runs through the night with listening to some fancy actor telling you why his director was a gay little shit and that he could do a much better job. Yawn.
One of the bikers, who's name I'm definitely not going to use here, used to bring coke in direct from Columbia, I picked him and his girlfriend up from Heathrow once, you could not miss them in the crowd. Not realising his suitcase had around 2 kilos of coke in it, I only found this out after the second time I picked him up using his BMW (lets not mention I didn't have a car licence...) he would come to my house I'd drop them at the airport and collect them about a week later. £100 in my bin!! Easy money for the 70's. Last I heard of him he had been shot and wounded during a deal in Bogota around 1981. I never got into coke, the first time I tried it, it did not do anything to me, although every one of my friends insisted I never take it again, not sure what that was all about and I never did. Lots of people I knew were into coke though, I think it was more a psychological thing with coke, most was cut so finely I would have been surprised if any of the stuff floating around in the 80's was more than 5% actual cocaine.
Most of the 70's and 80's I spent working as a motorcycle courier, this was because I could work mainly when I wanted and if you put the hours in the money was really good, in 1975 when some of my mates were working as clerks or engineers for £40-50 a week, on a good week I could take home over £500, although in reality we never worked a full week, Hangovers and getting to bed at 5am put paid to that, usually though I would still clear £250 to £350 easily. Extra money could be made running gear for dealers, I had a nice sideline in delivering weed and coke to the money guys in the city of London, some times 10 -15 drops a night at up to £10 a drop, easy on a motorbike and hard to catch! You would not believe how many famous people were also on coke... or maybe you would. My best weeks were during the postal strike in the 80's, over 2 grand in the second week of the strike and maybe another £500 from the 'special' evening deliveries, but I do not think I got more than 3-4 hours sleep each night, I did a lot of speed those weeks.
I mentioned earlier my favourite drug of choice were blues (Speed), I was never a big bloke and looking like a bad ass biker meant living up to the perceived image, if you didn't, you quickly got made to look like a fool or worse, much much worse. Speed made me invincible, on speed I had no fear, was dangerously aggressive and could stay awake after ridiculous amounts of drugs and drink. After being awake on blues for 3 days some friends once took me up to the music machine in Camden, it was a punk night and the queue to get in had around 300 punks and us 5 bikers!! I was later told I terrorised the whole queue, pulling at spiky mohican hair and at one one point undoing this girls 40 odd zips on her clothes 'looking for the way in'. Once we did get in, after Benny the bouncer warning me sternly to 'behave' and took my knife off of me, I kicked off a massive fight by diving down the stairs into a group of around 12 punks coming up them, I remember nothing of the night at all, my mates told me about it all the next day, I also had a black eye and had lost two teeth.
I took speed for years up until one morning in 1981, when I got up out of bed and walked past a full length mirror, I nearly had a heart attack, I looked like a Belsen victim. I had to go weigh myself and found I was 6 stone 8, just over 44 kilos. I never touched it again.
Over the years my drug use just sort of faded away, I just did not bother with it any more, I suppose the fact that nearly 40 of my mates have died from drugs in the last 30 years may have something to do with it. Far more mates have died from drugs, or drug related incidents, than crashing motorbikes. Now that is a scary thought.
I was brought up in Battersea, about 5 minutes walk from the park, as a matter of course I started my drinking in the pubs around Battersea park road, nice pubs and easy staggering distance, I wasn't really one of the 'bad 'uns' as my mum loved to call them, but I did know most of them. I was one of those youngsters that was badly bullied at school and a bit after, until I started to fight back, that old adage about bullies will back down if you stand up to them is utter rubbish! Most kicked the crap out of me until I learned how to fight... in a slightly different way.
My first experience with drugs came after I got a pasting by two blokes outside the Prince of Wales pub, a mate had helped me back to the my flat and on the way a bloke handed us a joint saying "You look like you need this more than me...", my first puff didn't seem to do anything, but it did take away the pain by the fourth or fifth, I have no idea what was in that joint and cant remember ever seeing that bloke again.
By now I had acquired my second motorbike, my first at 16 was a 1968 BSA Bantam, I had since moved up a notch and got a BSA 441SS (NPP 70H), on this I started riding around with some bikers I had met at the County Arms in Wandsworth and had started riding it up to the Chelsea bridge tea stall which was a common meeting place back then. I had been to Chelsea bridge a lot previously to watch the bikes, as I lived 10 minutes walk away.
Most of them smoked some form of cannabis, my mates and myself mainly stuck to types like cheap nasty soap bar (Cannabis mixed with.. well anything really.) or if it turned up and we had the money, Lebanese gold and a really nice type we called squidgy black, of course these memories may be a bit rose-tinted. We used to smoke either sitting outside pubs in the summer or if the weather was bad, back at a mates place, there were a few pubs you could get away with smoking inside, but most kicked you out if you were caught, nightclubs or music venues were better bets. Speed was another popular drug then, it was the party drug of the 70's from our point of view, it kept you awake all night no matter how much you drank and sex could last for ages, giving you a bit of a reputation with the ladies.
Around that time my friend Clive and I went to a party in the Mansions along Prince of Wales drive, I think we were invited by two very posh sisters, not really sure now, I was 17/18, had very long hair, deep blue eyes, blue velvet jacket and black satin loons (Very tight trousers), finished off with a pair of not very genuine cowboy boots. Well.. this was 1972/3.
We had not been there long just drinking vodka, when a joint was passed to us, cool we thought, of course by now we were now experts on the stuff!
I nearly puked my lungs up! Then my head felt like it was about 4 foot above my body, the room span around and I fell to floor freaking out. What the hell was in that? It frightened the life out of me, everyone was laughing and I could not controI my legs, I later found out that it was something called Banano (Cannabis mixed with cocaine? if I remember right) enough for four rolled into one joint apparently. The rest of the evening, once I calmed down, was a blur, I do remember laughing a hell of a lot and snogging some bird for hours, there is also a vague memory of someone threatening me with 'I'll cut your eyes out with a knife' I think it may have been his girlfriend I was having fun with.
The following Sunday I saw the person who's flat had been the base for the party, someone had told him my age, he could not apologise enough to me and he asked if I had got home ok, they had also told him it was my first time 'taking drugs' and he was mortified. He was quite a famous actor in some long running 70's drama (No more clues), but because I rarely watched television I had no idea who he was at the time, he bought me a pint in the Duke of Cambridge as a apology and it was then that I twigged he was gay! It was no problem once I made it clear I was not interested though. Pete (not his real name) and myself went to a few parties in the Battersea and Chelsea area in the early 70's, I think because I had long hair and blue eyes he liked to show me off to his showbiz friends, I never did ask if they thought I was his lover, I was a bit naïve then . It was certainly an eye opener, within weeks I had been introduced to a world very different from the one my bikers mates were in and the best thing is I don't ever remember having to pay for anything. Drugs were everywhere, coke was freely available and along with cannabis could be picked up anywhere we went, I met a lot of famous people at this time, but none really made an impact on me, although I was young and impressionable I thought most of the actors and big rock stars I met were twats. Worst of all were the managers, producers and hangers on, all riding on the coat tails of the famous and handing out drugs just to keep in with them. Some of the well known people I met were unpardonably rude to others, yet people treated them almost in a godlike way.
Now at this time heroin was rearing its ugly head in my world, a lot of the parties in the Chelsea seemed to have the same men at each one handing out 'free' samples and offering to show you how to take it, most started by smoking it off of tinfoil (chasing the dragon) I did not bother trying it after watching the state some of them got into taking it. To be honest I think I was too scared to try it.
There were always lots of very pretty and very stoned girls around, as a young man with normal urges it was a great time for me, although I did tend to wake up in strange flats miles from home on occasion. Once after getting completely mashed at a party in Kensington, I woke up in a very big house somewhere in Surrey with a gorgeous girl in her late 20's. I was still very high and crept out of the house to find a Rolls Royce, big American car of some kind, an Aston Martin DB3(?) and a couple of rare motorbikes parked outside. Must have walked for miles until I reached the A3 and then thumbed a lift, not a clue where I had been though, neither do I have any idea why I did not hang around or wake the girl up, Pete later thought that the girl was related to Keith Emerson, but I'm not so sure even though it was apparently one of his parties I met her at, I do not remember ever seeing her again.
I kept that part of my life separate from my other friends as I had started on the road to being a 'proper' biker and mostly we had drank alcohol, but now I started making inroads into what drugs were available in our circle, all of them as it turned out.
One of the pubs we frequented was the Fountain at the bottom end of Garrat lane in Wandsworth, I think it was Mondays we mainly went there, a rock and roll band called CSA played on a regular basis and were quite good, we scored a lot of dope there.
There were also back patch members in there, I had never really had any dealings with back patch club members until the Fountain, and to be honest I never really had a problem with them, one lived in Merton road and helped me a lot in finding bits for my BSA441SS, it was him that found a four valve CCM head for me. Can I remember his name? Nope, but that's probably not a bad thing.
Outside one particular pub in Tooting, there was always this skinny very long haired bloke hanging around, I think he was barred from entering the pub because I never ever saw him inside, someone would always take a drink out to him though, rain or shine he would be out there and he seemed to have loads of friends.
Of course, he was a dealer, and he would ask people “Up, down or sideways?” like a kind of catchphrase, when I started buying from him, I learned very quickly that whatever the first price he asked for, just turn and walk away, "15, go on you know its good stuff!" "Taking the piss mate, forget it..." before you had gone 3 steps the price had dropped to around half what he originally asked. I think it was just a silly game he enjoyed, everyone did it with him.
One day he wasn't there any more, I was later told he had overdosed on heroin, he was 32 and I never actually knew his name.
As I started to move in more exciting circles, I also started to learn which drugs were available and very quickly which to avoid, my favourite was speed, preferably in the form of small tablets called blues.
Weekends were this strange round of popping loads of blues on a Friday night, and then somewhere between 2am and 4am, depending on where we ended up, we would switch to moggies, (Mogadon or Qualudes in the US of A) so we could sleep, if we did not have Moggies, the next best thing were Tunial (I think we called them traffic lights) but they had a much harsher effect on me, if I had had any alcohol and took one I would go nuts before falling asleep wherever I was.
We also called moggies 'wobblers' as we played this game sometimes where we would drop a couple at home and then try to get to the pub before our legs gave out, they always seemed to work from the feet up especially if you had had a drink first, after about 15 minutes your knees felt like they were on the wrong way round. They were a barbiturate and we would have to pop some blues to make sure we didn't fall asleep, this led to some strange sights as the evenings wore on, I remember Gary outside the County Arms (by Wandsworth prison) he would be chatting away then his head would fall forward and he would start snoring, then after a few minutes his head would snap back up and he would carry on as if nothing had happened, he would repeat this for about an hour then collapse.
Mostly though we took speed, the downers, Moggies and Tunial, stopped us from riding, speed did not.
My first experience with acid happened outside the County, some hippies we knew had just driven back from Amsterdam (again) in an old Commer van, it had been sort of converted to a camper, well it had a mattress in the back and camping stove. We were all sitting on the grass outside the pub, when the van pulled up, two of the hippies, Mickey and Tarquin the poof (he wasn't a poof really, but come on, what would you call a hippie called Tarquin? We always though he was called Bob, until we all got pulled up by the police one day and he had to give his real name) Mickey was floating about 4 foot above the pavement, he seemed to glide over to us, he was laughing at the lamp post and talking to someone who wasn't there, Tarquin just stared at everyone, one after the other, then started asking if one of us was really a dragon in disguise, and they had driven to the pub!!!
We got them sat down and poured a few drinks down them, this seemed to help. Then Mickey started handing out some small bits of blotting paper with little faces printed on them, possibly fat Freddies cat? They were about an 1/8th of inch across and looked completely harmless, I stuck a couple in my wallet.
I had been given a lift up to the pub by Dave, for a big bad biker, Dave looked like a big cuddly teddy bear and was really quite a quiet bloke, we were chatting and he said why don't you drop a blotter and tell us what happens. I agreed and took out one of the blotters, putting it on my tongue I was now watching Tarquin, he was crawling around and muttering about living in the jungle and giant ants??? Er......
A took a big swig from my pint glass and sat back and waited for something to happen. Nothing.
This is a waste of time I thought, as I finished my pint about 20 minutes later, then stood up to go to the bar, I looked down and.. fucking hell, the ground was miles away, I grabbed Dave and started shouting at him to help me down, he just looked puzzled and a bit scared. He helped me sit down again on the grass, which was trying to pull me to one side, I was now getting really scared, I looked up at the parked cars outside the pub and one started winking at me, another looked at me disdainfully, as if it knew what foul illegal substance I had been taking.
Then a giant hand reached for me and a voice boomed inside my head "Are you alright Jake?" "Fuck no!! What's going on!!!!!!" Cars passing by on Trinity road seemed to take hours to go past, then they would accelerate until they were blurred streaks, the blurry streaks stayed there on the road, slowly fading away upwards into the starry sky. Oh, big mistake, I looked up into the night sky at the millions and millions of bright flashing stars, stars which had started flashing a secret message, but the drug was messing with my head and I could not understand the message, the stars started to flow into words, gradually they started to make sense.
Then a loud voice startled me and the stars went back to normal, Dave was calling to me, what was he saying? “Get out of the road??” Then a gorgeous angel appeared, it floated out of the pub, took me by the hand, walked me back to the grass outside the pub and sat me down, it talked gently to me and explained what was happening. The angel was actually a mates girlfriend, she had known a few people flip out on acid and found that talking calmly helped to bring them down again, she also poured loads of orange juice down my throat, vitamin C did seem to help.
Once I had calmed down the rest of the evening passed on cloud 9, I felt like I was wrapped in cotton wool and that at one point everyone was speaking in perfect German which I understood with no problem at all. The best bit was the ride home on the back of Dave's bike, this is one of the few things I remember very clearly about that trip, everything was the wrong colour, there was even a new colour, although I don’t quite remember what it was now.
Acid always had one strange effect on me, every time I took it I knew that there were green beavers hiding somewhere nearby, but I never managed to find them, this obsession with green beavers became quite a joke with my friends. Some people think of acid as a mind expanding drug, I never thought this, it was just fun, I never had any 'revelations' or suddenly understood the inner working of the universe like some people, it just made things different.
I didn't really bother going back to Pete and his group of friends after getting into the bike scene a lot more, I found the 'Chelsea' set rather boring and most were so far up their own arses it was just annoying being around them, especially after knocking about with the bikers I identified with now, you could not compare drug fuelled runs through the night with listening to some fancy actor telling you why his director was a gay little shit and that he could do a much better job. Yawn.
One of the bikers, who's name I'm definitely not going to use here, used to bring coke in direct from Columbia, I picked him and his girlfriend up from Heathrow once, you could not miss them in the crowd. Not realising his suitcase had around 2 kilos of coke in it, I only found this out after the second time I picked him up using his BMW (lets not mention I didn't have a car licence...) he would come to my house I'd drop them at the airport and collect them about a week later. £100 in my bin!! Easy money for the 70's. Last I heard of him he had been shot and wounded during a deal in Bogota around 1981. I never got into coke, the first time I tried it, it did not do anything to me, although every one of my friends insisted I never take it again, not sure what that was all about and I never did. Lots of people I knew were into coke though, I think it was more a psychological thing with coke, most was cut so finely I would have been surprised if any of the stuff floating around in the 80's was more than 5% actual cocaine.
Most of the 70's and 80's I spent working as a motorcycle courier, this was because I could work mainly when I wanted and if you put the hours in the money was really good, in 1975 when some of my mates were working as clerks or engineers for £40-50 a week, on a good week I could take home over £500, although in reality we never worked a full week, Hangovers and getting to bed at 5am put paid to that, usually though I would still clear £250 to £350 easily. Extra money could be made running gear for dealers, I had a nice sideline in delivering weed and coke to the money guys in the city of London, some times 10 -15 drops a night at up to £10 a drop, easy on a motorbike and hard to catch! You would not believe how many famous people were also on coke... or maybe you would. My best weeks were during the postal strike in the 80's, over 2 grand in the second week of the strike and maybe another £500 from the 'special' evening deliveries, but I do not think I got more than 3-4 hours sleep each night, I did a lot of speed those weeks.
I mentioned earlier my favourite drug of choice were blues (Speed), I was never a big bloke and looking like a bad ass biker meant living up to the perceived image, if you didn't, you quickly got made to look like a fool or worse, much much worse. Speed made me invincible, on speed I had no fear, was dangerously aggressive and could stay awake after ridiculous amounts of drugs and drink. After being awake on blues for 3 days some friends once took me up to the music machine in Camden, it was a punk night and the queue to get in had around 300 punks and us 5 bikers!! I was later told I terrorised the whole queue, pulling at spiky mohican hair and at one one point undoing this girls 40 odd zips on her clothes 'looking for the way in'. Once we did get in, after Benny the bouncer warning me sternly to 'behave' and took my knife off of me, I kicked off a massive fight by diving down the stairs into a group of around 12 punks coming up them, I remember nothing of the night at all, my mates told me about it all the next day, I also had a black eye and had lost two teeth.
I took speed for years up until one morning in 1981, when I got up out of bed and walked past a full length mirror, I nearly had a heart attack, I looked like a Belsen victim. I had to go weigh myself and found I was 6 stone 8, just over 44 kilos. I never touched it again.
Over the years my drug use just sort of faded away, I just did not bother with it any more, I suppose the fact that nearly 40 of my mates have died from drugs in the last 30 years may have something to do with it. Far more mates have died from drugs, or drug related incidents, than crashing motorbikes. Now that is a scary thought.
Immortality and the art of conversation.
Have you ever thought about the fact that you could already be immortal?
In a way most of us who use modern technology are, if you have ever been on television or the radio, ever used a mobile phone or a computer then the odds are that your image or voice will be floating through space forever.
Ok, it will get fainter and weaker the further it goes, but it will go on forever, until one day an alien race picks it up, now at first they may not understand exactly what it means, but eventually either they, or another race, will translate your image or voice in an intelligible piece of data.
What then will they think? Think about the inconsequential drivel most of us churn out in the average phone conversation, all that is drifting through the universe, million upon millions of words saying nothing, nothing at all. The communication mediums that we all have at our fingertips are really wasted on nonsense 99% of the time. Even at work, how much of our time on the phone is spent talking about work? Not a much as you think.
Before radio communication writing letters was the only viable way of getting information information between any people separated by large distances, in those, most of the time, they had to be thought out very carefully as you could not correct a mistake for some time, if you got it wrong it could be weeks before you received a reply and realised your mistake.
With the internet people feel they can put down their thoughts without thinking too much about what they have written or even the effect it might have on others. I have been guilty of this myself once or twice, normally after a few beers.
Now our words are passing out through the outer reaches of space, my first CB transmission is just passing Delta Eridani 29.5 light years away, I wonder just what anyone there would make of my rambling chat about BSA motorbikes?
Every little piece of chat, every bit of gossip, even singing happy birthday down your mobile will be winging its way across space in all directions. One day someone or something may be listening to what you said, or seeing your image on a tv screen, what do you think they will make of it?
In a way most of us who use modern technology are, if you have ever been on television or the radio, ever used a mobile phone or a computer then the odds are that your image or voice will be floating through space forever.
Ok, it will get fainter and weaker the further it goes, but it will go on forever, until one day an alien race picks it up, now at first they may not understand exactly what it means, but eventually either they, or another race, will translate your image or voice in an intelligible piece of data.
What then will they think? Think about the inconsequential drivel most of us churn out in the average phone conversation, all that is drifting through the universe, million upon millions of words saying nothing, nothing at all. The communication mediums that we all have at our fingertips are really wasted on nonsense 99% of the time. Even at work, how much of our time on the phone is spent talking about work? Not a much as you think.
Before radio communication writing letters was the only viable way of getting information information between any people separated by large distances, in those, most of the time, they had to be thought out very carefully as you could not correct a mistake for some time, if you got it wrong it could be weeks before you received a reply and realised your mistake.
With the internet people feel they can put down their thoughts without thinking too much about what they have written or even the effect it might have on others. I have been guilty of this myself once or twice, normally after a few beers.
Now our words are passing out through the outer reaches of space, my first CB transmission is just passing Delta Eridani 29.5 light years away, I wonder just what anyone there would make of my rambling chat about BSA motorbikes?
Every little piece of chat, every bit of gossip, even singing happy birthday down your mobile will be winging its way across space in all directions. One day someone or something may be listening to what you said, or seeing your image on a tv screen, what do you think they will make of it?
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
50 years since Yuri Gagarin leapt into space.
This year the Americans will retire the Space shuttle, 50 years after Yuri Gagarin left this planet, the first human in space. So what is the future for humans in space now?
The Russians will still fly astronauts, including American ones, to the space station using Soyuz, which still lifts today on a variant of the R7 rocket that was used to place Sputnik and Gagarin in orbit. Other than that who knows, I believe this is a big mistake, we should be pushing forward into space, there are no frontiers left on this planet, we have plumbed the deepest oceans, climbed to the top of the highest mountain, Everest is now virtually a tourist attraction.
Once my ambition was to place foot on land no human had ever stood on before, now unless a new island appears from the sea that certainly is not going to happen.
We once, as a race, dreamed of new lands, of new challenges, not just physical but intellectual as well, we expanded across this globe like a virus, colonised new lands and subjugated new people.
We raped the lands of its riches and polluted everywhere we placed our mark. But is that not our destiny? Descended from animals our purpose was to breed and survive so that our progeny would carry on, to do this we had to live by the 'survival of the fittest' rule, the weak died so that the strong could live. As our population grew, more control and structure was needed to stop things becoming chaos, tribal leaders arose; normally the strongest bloke with the biggest stick, Then we discovered farming, this allowed us much more flexibility over our lives, the winter could survived with stored grain. As we grew more we had a surplus, this could be 'loaned' to others who needed it, to remember who we had loaned this surplus to, we needed records, hence writing began, once we had that, ideas could be written down and remembered, they could also be passed on much more accurately. Villages grew into towns, we needed more space and we pushed on until we met others, we either traded with or conquered them. The expansion continued, until compromises had to be met and that is where we are at today, becoming 'civilised' has allowed us to live together on this planet..... well almost, there still those who want more, still those who want to rule us all.
In the East the general public has now realised, with the help of global communication that it does not have to adhere to the strict rules most states have placed them under, therefore the unrest. It is not about freedom as such, I believe it is about want, they want to have the lifestyles they see on the television and to be honest, I can not blame them. In the West we have protected the under classes to the point where we have a substrata of moronic people who have no interest in anything but television, most have little interest in anything outside of their cosy little lives.
So what now for the population of this planet? Shall we stagnate here and wallow in our own filth? Or should we once again take that leap out into the unknown and become those pioneers that we once were?
The population on this planet is growing at a rate that will be unsustainable in the near future, do you really think those starving will be content to sit there while the west wastes so much? As global information becomes accessible to more and more people, the more situation will change, and to be honest I cant blame them.
Yet if we did redistribute food more evenly around the planet, the birth rate would climb higher, less people would die and the problem would grow exponentially at a frightening rate.
Humans have always been bred to survive, until relatively recently that instinct has been used to create soldiers, frontiersmen and explorers, even as recently as 40 years ago we wanted to be Astronauts, racing drivers or even explorers. I think the only thing left that kids aspire to these days is reality show plaything or rapper.
Becoming civilised has done us no favours in that respect.
We need to get off this planet, it is stifling us as a race.
Dreaming of going into Space was my dream, if I was told I could go tomorrow but I would die in the process, I would still go.
Looking back a this planet has to be the ultimate human experience,
(can someone lend me £175k so I go on Richard Branson's flight please?)
If is perfectly feasible to build a linear accelerator capable of launching ships into space at low cost, it is the initial cost and testing that puts off governments.
And Orion (google project Orion) was only dropped because of the radiation fear.
We must leave this planet before we all die in a war for food, or someone turns up and takes it from us.
The Russians will still fly astronauts, including American ones, to the space station using Soyuz, which still lifts today on a variant of the R7 rocket that was used to place Sputnik and Gagarin in orbit. Other than that who knows, I believe this is a big mistake, we should be pushing forward into space, there are no frontiers left on this planet, we have plumbed the deepest oceans, climbed to the top of the highest mountain, Everest is now virtually a tourist attraction.
Once my ambition was to place foot on land no human had ever stood on before, now unless a new island appears from the sea that certainly is not going to happen.
We once, as a race, dreamed of new lands, of new challenges, not just physical but intellectual as well, we expanded across this globe like a virus, colonised new lands and subjugated new people.
We raped the lands of its riches and polluted everywhere we placed our mark. But is that not our destiny? Descended from animals our purpose was to breed and survive so that our progeny would carry on, to do this we had to live by the 'survival of the fittest' rule, the weak died so that the strong could live. As our population grew, more control and structure was needed to stop things becoming chaos, tribal leaders arose; normally the strongest bloke with the biggest stick, Then we discovered farming, this allowed us much more flexibility over our lives, the winter could survived with stored grain. As we grew more we had a surplus, this could be 'loaned' to others who needed it, to remember who we had loaned this surplus to, we needed records, hence writing began, once we had that, ideas could be written down and remembered, they could also be passed on much more accurately. Villages grew into towns, we needed more space and we pushed on until we met others, we either traded with or conquered them. The expansion continued, until compromises had to be met and that is where we are at today, becoming 'civilised' has allowed us to live together on this planet..... well almost, there still those who want more, still those who want to rule us all.
In the East the general public has now realised, with the help of global communication that it does not have to adhere to the strict rules most states have placed them under, therefore the unrest. It is not about freedom as such, I believe it is about want, they want to have the lifestyles they see on the television and to be honest, I can not blame them. In the West we have protected the under classes to the point where we have a substrata of moronic people who have no interest in anything but television, most have little interest in anything outside of their cosy little lives.
So what now for the population of this planet? Shall we stagnate here and wallow in our own filth? Or should we once again take that leap out into the unknown and become those pioneers that we once were?
The population on this planet is growing at a rate that will be unsustainable in the near future, do you really think those starving will be content to sit there while the west wastes so much? As global information becomes accessible to more and more people, the more situation will change, and to be honest I cant blame them.
Yet if we did redistribute food more evenly around the planet, the birth rate would climb higher, less people would die and the problem would grow exponentially at a frightening rate.
Humans have always been bred to survive, until relatively recently that instinct has been used to create soldiers, frontiersmen and explorers, even as recently as 40 years ago we wanted to be Astronauts, racing drivers or even explorers. I think the only thing left that kids aspire to these days is reality show plaything or rapper.
Becoming civilised has done us no favours in that respect.
We need to get off this planet, it is stifling us as a race.
Dreaming of going into Space was my dream, if I was told I could go tomorrow but I would die in the process, I would still go.
Looking back a this planet has to be the ultimate human experience,
(can someone lend me £175k so I go on Richard Branson's flight please?)
If is perfectly feasible to build a linear accelerator capable of launching ships into space at low cost, it is the initial cost and testing that puts off governments.
And Orion (google project Orion) was only dropped because of the radiation fear.
We must leave this planet before we all die in a war for food, or someone turns up and takes it from us.
Friday, 11 February 2011
The very secret life of Dan Jerrous, stunt man and womaniser.
"I was born in the wagon of a travelling show" That is Dan's answer when questioned about his origins, Dan Jerrous is very secretive about his past, very little is known about him. We have more information about the Stig than him. Dan is the greatest failure ever, only one of his numerous stunts has ever been successful, we know of at least 50 stunts, including film stunts, that he has attempted and aside from the ones for the film 'Boots of Doom' nothing has gone right for him.
'Boots of doom' was the only film he ever finished for a company, unfortunately the film board refused to issue a certificate for this film, they claimed the stunts were so extreme that if anyone tried to copy them they would be killed. Even the company that financed the film refuses to have their name associated with it, we were threatened that if we even mentioned their name in conjunction with this, they would [quote] Sue our arses off[unquote].
We have no idea how old he is, estimates range from 35 to 55, as we have never seen his face; it is difficult to gauge just how old he actually is, we do know he first came to notice for his motorcycle stunts, turning up at motorbike events and really just showing off; in the late 70's, riding his bike, pulling wheelies, jumping over things and then normally falling off before disappearing. For the one thing we do know about him is that almost every one of his stunts has ended in failure!
The most spectacular being the failed cow jump in France in 1998, more about that later.
He is the Eddie the eagle of the motorcycle world.
There are rumours that Dan may have been two people though, there is a persistent rumour that he died in the same car as Princess Di and it was covered up.
Guesses as to who he was are numerous, most think he was a bastard son of a royal personage, which is why he never uncovered his face, others think he was just a chancer who could talk his way into anything, which could be true, he managed to talk a lot of famous people, nearly all women, into financing some spectacular stunts, all of which failed. Yet they kept pouring money into his projects.
There are a number of very famous women, who are believed to have had 'liaisons' with Dan, obviously a few actresses, but a number of other names kept popping up in our research, women from politics and certain royal families. We all know about the rumours concerning Dan, a certain DJ called David De Vynel, the daughter of the president of Patagonia, two nuns and a donkey. This story was covered by a national newspaper and then completely debunked by all concerned.
So just who is Dan Jerrous and what do we actually know about him?We know very little from his facebook page except that he seems to be incarcerated on a regular basis, due to his secretive nature it is suspected that he may either be someone quite famous or related to a royal family member, possibly a cousin of Prince Charles. One rumour hints that he may be the illegitimate son of the Prince of Monaco. Too many rumours and not enough fact, this is not unusual where Dan is concerned.
Whereever Dan Jerrous is talked about, myths abound, he was involved, albeit briefly, with a character called Pyro, we found this very suspicious, because dates where Dan was 'performing' coincide with dates of various pier fires, we know he was in Hastings in early October 2010, also he was on Brighton beach in March 2003 for a photo shoot, there is supposedly some film of Dan practising a stunt on a beach on the Isle of Wight. In the background of this piece of film can be seen Totland Bay Pier clearly on fire at the time. If any one has a copy of this film, we would like to see it to confirm this or maybe you know of other instances where Dan was nearby when fire broke out?
The great cow jump stunt in 1998 was another in a long line of spectacular failures, this one was infamous because it kicked off a massive row with the Animal liberation front, RSPCA and various other animal rights organisations.
Never one to dodge controversy, Dan's manager James Dayton has always been blamed for the rumour that Dan did the motorcycle riding for 'Long way round' this vicious and unfounded rumour has caused much consternation, Ewan Mcgregor and Charley Boorman definitely did the trip themselves, it is true Dan can be seen in the background of a certain piece of footage, but that's because we have discovered that they were filming the sequel to "Boots of doom!" in the same place. This was totally illegal and without the permission of the ruling government, it is believed the rumour about Dan being in 'Long way round' was started to cover the real reason they were there.
There are also many rumours concerning Dan's affiliation with G.O.D.S (Grand order of Divine Squid) this is a very secret organisation; who's members have a very odd way of greeting each other. Less is known about G.O.D.S than about the Freemasons or Rosicrucian's. On trying to find out more about them, I found myself on the receiving end of some very dire threats.
Dan has been associated with many famous women, Princess Di's name has cropped up on occasion as has Julia Roberts, Gloria Huniford and more recently Katy Perry, before she met 'that' twat.
Julia denied ever knowing Dan, but we know he was a friend of Hugh Grant at the time of the Notting hill film, as he was consulted on the more extreme stunts in that film. (Which were later dropped as not being relevant to the story line)
Dan has led a very exciting but secretive life, we are trying to document this, so if you know Dan or have had any dealings with him, maybe you were one of the many women who had an affair with him, then we would like to hear from you. In particular we would love to hear from Dan himself, James Dayton, Eddie Izzard (Yes we do know about 'that' incident Eddie) Gloria Huniford, Quentin Tarrantino, Julia Roberts, Princess Marina, Edwina Curry (We know about that one too), Kate Moss, Matt Damon (Dan was rumoured to have been the first chopice for the Bourne series), Katy Perry and Alan Carr*
*Nothing to do with Dan really, I want his address so we can send the boys round and get rid of him.
'Boots of doom' was the only film he ever finished for a company, unfortunately the film board refused to issue a certificate for this film, they claimed the stunts were so extreme that if anyone tried to copy them they would be killed. Even the company that financed the film refuses to have their name associated with it, we were threatened that if we even mentioned their name in conjunction with this, they would [quote] Sue our arses off[unquote].
We have no idea how old he is, estimates range from 35 to 55, as we have never seen his face; it is difficult to gauge just how old he actually is, we do know he first came to notice for his motorcycle stunts, turning up at motorbike events and really just showing off; in the late 70's, riding his bike, pulling wheelies, jumping over things and then normally falling off before disappearing. For the one thing we do know about him is that almost every one of his stunts has ended in failure!
The most spectacular being the failed cow jump in France in 1998, more about that later.
He is the Eddie the eagle of the motorcycle world.
There are rumours that Dan may have been two people though, there is a persistent rumour that he died in the same car as Princess Di and it was covered up.
Guesses as to who he was are numerous, most think he was a bastard son of a royal personage, which is why he never uncovered his face, others think he was just a chancer who could talk his way into anything, which could be true, he managed to talk a lot of famous people, nearly all women, into financing some spectacular stunts, all of which failed. Yet they kept pouring money into his projects.
There are a number of very famous women, who are believed to have had 'liaisons' with Dan, obviously a few actresses, but a number of other names kept popping up in our research, women from politics and certain royal families. We all know about the rumours concerning Dan, a certain DJ called David De Vynel, the daughter of the president of Patagonia, two nuns and a donkey. This story was covered by a national newspaper and then completely debunked by all concerned.
So just who is Dan Jerrous and what do we actually know about him?We know very little from his facebook page except that he seems to be incarcerated on a regular basis, due to his secretive nature it is suspected that he may either be someone quite famous or related to a royal family member, possibly a cousin of Prince Charles. One rumour hints that he may be the illegitimate son of the Prince of Monaco. Too many rumours and not enough fact, this is not unusual where Dan is concerned.
Whereever Dan Jerrous is talked about, myths abound, he was involved, albeit briefly, with a character called Pyro, we found this very suspicious, because dates where Dan was 'performing' coincide with dates of various pier fires, we know he was in Hastings in early October 2010, also he was on Brighton beach in March 2003 for a photo shoot, there is supposedly some film of Dan practising a stunt on a beach on the Isle of Wight. In the background of this piece of film can be seen Totland Bay Pier clearly on fire at the time. If any one has a copy of this film, we would like to see it to confirm this or maybe you know of other instances where Dan was nearby when fire broke out?
The great cow jump stunt in 1998 was another in a long line of spectacular failures, this one was infamous because it kicked off a massive row with the Animal liberation front, RSPCA and various other animal rights organisations.
Never one to dodge controversy, Dan's manager James Dayton has always been blamed for the rumour that Dan did the motorcycle riding for 'Long way round' this vicious and unfounded rumour has caused much consternation, Ewan Mcgregor and Charley Boorman definitely did the trip themselves, it is true Dan can be seen in the background of a certain piece of footage, but that's because we have discovered that they were filming the sequel to "Boots of doom!" in the same place. This was totally illegal and without the permission of the ruling government, it is believed the rumour about Dan being in 'Long way round' was started to cover the real reason they were there.
There are also many rumours concerning Dan's affiliation with G.O.D.S (Grand order of Divine Squid) this is a very secret organisation; who's members have a very odd way of greeting each other. Less is known about G.O.D.S than about the Freemasons or Rosicrucian's. On trying to find out more about them, I found myself on the receiving end of some very dire threats.
Dan has been associated with many famous women, Princess Di's name has cropped up on occasion as has Julia Roberts, Gloria Huniford and more recently Katy Perry, before she met 'that' twat.
Julia denied ever knowing Dan, but we know he was a friend of Hugh Grant at the time of the Notting hill film, as he was consulted on the more extreme stunts in that film. (Which were later dropped as not being relevant to the story line)
Dan has led a very exciting but secretive life, we are trying to document this, so if you know Dan or have had any dealings with him, maybe you were one of the many women who had an affair with him, then we would like to hear from you. In particular we would love to hear from Dan himself, James Dayton, Eddie Izzard (Yes we do know about 'that' incident Eddie) Gloria Huniford, Quentin Tarrantino, Julia Roberts, Princess Marina, Edwina Curry (We know about that one too), Kate Moss, Matt Damon (Dan was rumoured to have been the first chopice for the Bourne series), Katy Perry and Alan Carr*
*Nothing to do with Dan really, I want his address so we can send the boys round and get rid of him.
Saturday, 25 December 2010
My Christmas speech.
This has been a year of ups and downs for lots of people, some of us have lost loved ones, some have found new love. Some have lost jobs, some have found new ones, some have not, life is all about change, being human is all about adapting to that change, it can be much easier with good people around to help. Some of us do not have that option, there are people who have not got friends around to help and encourage them, I personally have a great circle of friends who have helped me through those times when I needed them. I hope I in turn have managed to help others as well. This has been the best year for me for some time in some ways, not so good in others, passing on help and the good feelings to others makes me feel good, there is nothing wrong in taking pride in helping others. This is something we should all do, at least one unselfish act every day.
We should all take a step back and look around us, far too many people have a selfish attitude to life these days, because they end up wrapped in their own selfishness they can miss how wonderful the world around is.
I am taking pleasure at this moment in the birds on the bird feeder outside my window, there is a massive woodpecker hanging from the peanut dispenser, simple things can give as much pleasure as the X-box or new mobile phone.
Are we teaching our children the simple pleasures in life? The pressure on kids and adults growing up to have the newest, biggest and best item on the market is now an endemic problem, IMHO anyway, we are constantly bombarded with the feeling that we 'have' to have the next 52" tv, or the new I-phone4.
I did not like being forced to upgrade to a frankly ridiculous level, it is this being pushed into having something that I don't really need that annoys me. How much of the capabilities of your phone do you use or even need?
As the market forces push us more and more into buying the latest and greatest new thing, are we becoming more insular?
There are people now who are getting to the point of only interacting with the outside world through their computer, I see this as becoming the norm in the next 20 years. Perhaps we should take a good look at our life's and see where we are headed?
The system of politics in this country will soon change, it has to, more and more people seem to be waking up to the fact that most of the current politicians are only in it as a job, politics is no longer seen as a vocation. There is so much prevarication and arse covering that nothing really gets done, the sooner we get in some MP's that will have the guts to say "Oops the economy is screwed, we had better sit down and do something sensible about it" the better, but it wont happen, mainly because to correct all the problems will upset too many people, most of which are in big corporates and will stand to end up paying the correct amount of tax instead of the paltry amount they pay now.
Sorting out the economy will hurt, but this papering over the cracks instead of knuckling down and getting it right is not the way to do it. Can someone also explain why we need nuclear weapons these days? Who exactly do we need to deter? More money that we cant afford to spend.
If you can, in the new year, please get involved in politics, the incumbents in the present government rely on the fact that most people cant be bothered, to keep themselves and their mates in jobs. The same parties and people are voted in time after time, what differences can you see between the main parties these days? The current coalition has already proved itself to be a sham, lies, deceit and backstabbing are worse than ever, is it not time to kick them all out and start again?
I think so.
Thank you for reading this rambling diatribe of a Christmas speech, if nothing else I hope it has made you think a bit, at least be grateful I did not sling in a few jokes.
Have a great Christmas and a very happy new year.
We should all take a step back and look around us, far too many people have a selfish attitude to life these days, because they end up wrapped in their own selfishness they can miss how wonderful the world around is.
I am taking pleasure at this moment in the birds on the bird feeder outside my window, there is a massive woodpecker hanging from the peanut dispenser, simple things can give as much pleasure as the X-box or new mobile phone.
Are we teaching our children the simple pleasures in life? The pressure on kids and adults growing up to have the newest, biggest and best item on the market is now an endemic problem, IMHO anyway, we are constantly bombarded with the feeling that we 'have' to have the next 52" tv, or the new I-phone4.
I did not like being forced to upgrade to a frankly ridiculous level, it is this being pushed into having something that I don't really need that annoys me. How much of the capabilities of your phone do you use or even need?
As the market forces push us more and more into buying the latest and greatest new thing, are we becoming more insular?
There are people now who are getting to the point of only interacting with the outside world through their computer, I see this as becoming the norm in the next 20 years. Perhaps we should take a good look at our life's and see where we are headed?
The system of politics in this country will soon change, it has to, more and more people seem to be waking up to the fact that most of the current politicians are only in it as a job, politics is no longer seen as a vocation. There is so much prevarication and arse covering that nothing really gets done, the sooner we get in some MP's that will have the guts to say "Oops the economy is screwed, we had better sit down and do something sensible about it" the better, but it wont happen, mainly because to correct all the problems will upset too many people, most of which are in big corporates and will stand to end up paying the correct amount of tax instead of the paltry amount they pay now.
Sorting out the economy will hurt, but this papering over the cracks instead of knuckling down and getting it right is not the way to do it. Can someone also explain why we need nuclear weapons these days? Who exactly do we need to deter? More money that we cant afford to spend.
If you can, in the new year, please get involved in politics, the incumbents in the present government rely on the fact that most people cant be bothered, to keep themselves and their mates in jobs. The same parties and people are voted in time after time, what differences can you see between the main parties these days? The current coalition has already proved itself to be a sham, lies, deceit and backstabbing are worse than ever, is it not time to kick them all out and start again?
I think so.
Thank you for reading this rambling diatribe of a Christmas speech, if nothing else I hope it has made you think a bit, at least be grateful I did not sling in a few jokes.
Have a great Christmas and a very happy new year.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Fishing.
Its been awhile since I last went, I used to enjoy it, so with a fair sized lake 5 mins away in the camper, reports of good sized Rudd, Tench and Carp to over 20lbs, off I went.
Bloody hell it was windy!! The lake is at the bottom of a valley near me, the wind is funneled down and gets quite brisk just where I wanted to fish, still I'm here now so lets get set up.Not knowing what to expect, I start out trying to freeline bread, which has been recommended as the favourite bait, under some bushes about 10 yards away, I'm using 8lb line with a 4lb hook to nylon and size 12 barbless hook, I am flicking the bread out 10 feet to the left of the bushes and letting the surface drift caused by the wind; take it underneath the edge of the bushes, I am also throwing pieces of bread into the bushes, this way it drops down through the leaves and looks more natural.
After 2 hours nothing, not a touch, I've tried from under my feet on the bank right across as far as I can cast. Time to switch tactics, I attach a small 1/2oz free running ledger to the line and switch to sweetcorn. Bingo, inside 5 minutes I have a strong run which unfortunately drops before I can strike. Never mind, I start rebaiting the hook when the bite indicator on the other rod shoots into the air, this time I am quick enough and and 2 minutes later I have a very strong fighting 4-5lb common carp in the net.
I rebait both rods and recast, one is straight out under the tress on the far bank, about 15-20 yards, the other is only 5 yards out to my left; back under the bushes.
Nothing for about an hour, then the bite indicator, which is a wine cork painted white with a hair clip sticking out of the end, starts to tremble, then rise very slowly, as I move over to the rod, the indicator smashes upwards and the line starts racing out of the open reel. Lifting the rod, I shut the bail arm and strike away from the direction the line is going, wallop! A fight is
on.
This is the rod with 8lb lne and 4lb hook to nylon, this might be a mistake, the fish is going nuts, I'm struggling to turn it without snapping the line, its a very good heavy ledger rod though, it is taking the shocks and allowing me to use the rod to take the strain rather than the line.
I keep turning him away from the over hanging branches and snag on the far bank, eventually I land a prime condition 10lb mirror.
Two weeks later, my mate Barry wants to have a go down here, so he turns up and we head off, this time to Pett, a village down by Winchelsea beach. There is a bit of the canal opposite the smugglers inn (very handy) so we set up there, this time after some jack pike.
I start pulling in roach after roach for live bait and a few skimmers, Barry gets nothing, the pike lines are picking up nothing. Then Barry's pike bung takes off down river at speed, he lifts the rod, give the pike time to turn the fish and strikes. Nothing, the pike let go, the bite marks on the roach show it would have been a good jack.
I get a couple of runs on the pike line but cant hook them, but I'm still hitting the roach on the light rod, had about 40 roach and skimmers now, Barry still has nothing. Oops.
Just as I pull in another roach of about 6oz, two blokes walk up and ask how we are doing, they have been fishing in a match about a mile up the canal and reckon that the roach I just caught would have won the match!!
They had been fishing the match all morning and no one of them had caught a thing.
As they are talking to me, off goes my pike bung, I pick up the rod and strike, its a 2-3lb pike, after that we packed up.
Final score, me about 40 roach, skimmers and one small pike.
Barry.... er... better luck next time mate.
Not that bad considering.
Bloody hell it was windy!! The lake is at the bottom of a valley near me, the wind is funneled down and gets quite brisk just where I wanted to fish, still I'm here now so lets get set up.Not knowing what to expect, I start out trying to freeline bread, which has been recommended as the favourite bait, under some bushes about 10 yards away, I'm using 8lb line with a 4lb hook to nylon and size 12 barbless hook, I am flicking the bread out 10 feet to the left of the bushes and letting the surface drift caused by the wind; take it underneath the edge of the bushes, I am also throwing pieces of bread into the bushes, this way it drops down through the leaves and looks more natural.
After 2 hours nothing, not a touch, I've tried from under my feet on the bank right across as far as I can cast. Time to switch tactics, I attach a small 1/2oz free running ledger to the line and switch to sweetcorn. Bingo, inside 5 minutes I have a strong run which unfortunately drops before I can strike. Never mind, I start rebaiting the hook when the bite indicator on the other rod shoots into the air, this time I am quick enough and and 2 minutes later I have a very strong fighting 4-5lb common carp in the net.
I rebait both rods and recast, one is straight out under the tress on the far bank, about 15-20 yards, the other is only 5 yards out to my left; back under the bushes.
Nothing for about an hour, then the bite indicator, which is a wine cork painted white with a hair clip sticking out of the end, starts to tremble, then rise very slowly, as I move over to the rod, the indicator smashes upwards and the line starts racing out of the open reel. Lifting the rod, I shut the bail arm and strike away from the direction the line is going, wallop! A fight is
on.
This is the rod with 8lb lne and 4lb hook to nylon, this might be a mistake, the fish is going nuts, I'm struggling to turn it without snapping the line, its a very good heavy ledger rod though, it is taking the shocks and allowing me to use the rod to take the strain rather than the line.
I keep turning him away from the over hanging branches and snag on the far bank, eventually I land a prime condition 10lb mirror.
Two weeks later, my mate Barry wants to have a go down here, so he turns up and we head off, this time to Pett, a village down by Winchelsea beach. There is a bit of the canal opposite the smugglers inn (very handy) so we set up there, this time after some jack pike.
I start pulling in roach after roach for live bait and a few skimmers, Barry gets nothing, the pike lines are picking up nothing. Then Barry's pike bung takes off down river at speed, he lifts the rod, give the pike time to turn the fish and strikes. Nothing, the pike let go, the bite marks on the roach show it would have been a good jack.
I get a couple of runs on the pike line but cant hook them, but I'm still hitting the roach on the light rod, had about 40 roach and skimmers now, Barry still has nothing. Oops.
Just as I pull in another roach of about 6oz, two blokes walk up and ask how we are doing, they have been fishing in a match about a mile up the canal and reckon that the roach I just caught would have won the match!!
They had been fishing the match all morning and no one of them had caught a thing.
As they are talking to me, off goes my pike bung, I pick up the rod and strike, its a 2-3lb pike, after that we packed up.
Final score, me about 40 roach, skimmers and one small pike.
Barry.... er... better luck next time mate.
Not that bad considering.
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