2 dreams: Bad Bono & Bad Water
April 29, 2009 at 4:56 pm | In Uncategorized | Leave a CommentTags: Bono, fruit machine, pubs, real ale, tracheotomy, U2, water
Watching old U2 live performance. Must be very old, maybe 1979? Before the band went rock – they are playing Irish trad. music and there are girls river dancing along to it. Bono is fairly podgy too, and has a crap thin ponytail, he is singing and playing a penny-whistle also. I should mention that he is playing said instrument through the tracheotomy hole in his throat.
The sea is rising, rain and a heavy low pressure may cause floods. But it is not the water that we should be worries about, it is the fake-water that has appeared. As soon as you touch it you are a goner. Not dead, maybe, you just vanish. Its like water but has either a blue or red tinge, in a certain light. I stay indoors while watching this fake-water stream along the roads, catching people unaware. After the levels have dropped I venture out, staying clear of any puddles, and head to the pub where I win £14 worth of real ale vouchers from a strange fruit machine.
(from 29th Sep 05)
February 25, 2009 at 2:23 pm | In Migrated 20six stuff | Leave a CommentTags: dogs, dreams, drowning, drugs, old 20six, poker, pubs, zombies
Down at the quay, back in Lymington, my Mum and Dad, other people from the town and I waited on the side of the slip for the drop to happen. The small white powerboat silently gliding, as the high tide turns, past the moorings and the jetty, before scattering the dozen or so packages down to the bed of the river at the bottom of the slip. It was still raining, it had been raining all night and most of the day before but it had settled somewhat, downgraded from torrential to light.
All of us from the sides threw ourselves into the water, me in my flannel grey dressing gown, to retrieve the packages; cocaine or heroin, from beneath us. Unseen police directed the scene from the sides, arrested were being made based upon the evidence that we would drag up from the dark nights waters.
The water was slowly rising about me. I was raised up by standing on a package so that my head was clear. My body would not respond. Something was wrong. I kept turning, around and around, pivoting on tiptoes on the tied plastic box below. What was happening to me? I tried swimming but again I could only swim around in circles. I thought that if I couldn’t sort this out then I would surely drown.
I call out to my parents who have already reached dry land and my circling becomes more controllable. I reach land with my dad pulling me up onto the side of the quay.
I walk along the quay towards the cobbles that lead up to the high street. Someone with me talks about the tunnels under us that connect shops, old pubs and houses, built by smugglers but are still used today.
I make my way to a large pub that now stands along the cobbles. Inside people from my old work that I haven’t seen for a long time mingle with new friends from London and with kids I went to school with who are obviously no longer kids but who haven’t ever changed. Did I have a drink? I can’t remember. I do know that everyone was talking about the drop that got busted. Darren someone, ex Priestlands guy, says he’ll be all right he has a nice stash at home that no one is getting their hands on. I leave them in the upstairs bar, by the back stairs and I follow JH across the cobbles to another pub. But I leave her and make my way along a tunnel into a new mall that has been built but whose shops are still to open. It runs parallel to the cobbled hill, to the east, but the hill is much steeper, so steep that I can not reach the doors at the top. It is about then that the zombies start appearing.
Everyone is running away from the quay along the tunnel to the mall, away from the zombies. But the exits here are blocked! Panic! I find a couple of wooden poles that we could use as spears. I give one to another guy and we run down the tunnel towards the advancing undead. I throw mine into a zombie’s leg but it does little to slow down the advance. People I know are getting bitten. Fox gets bitten. Anna gets bitten; I try and save her by putting her face in a blancmange shape (?!!! – Ummm…?). Then it all goes quiet, people turn back from zombies to normal people, everyone is saved, no-one died. Hooray!
I celebrate by playing, and beating, a dog (border collie) at poker. My pair of kings up against his jack five. He draws a full house on the flop, jacks over fives, I make a 4 of a kind on the turn and the river. 4 Kings! Take that dog!
The end.
Pub Crawl (from 2nd Aug 04)
February 21, 2009 at 3:08 am | In Migrated 20six stuff | Leave a CommentTags: pubs
Wednesday draws closer the day of the great north london kebab route pub crawl 2004. Otherwise known as Green Lanes drink yourself silly day. Not sure who’s coming cus most people will be working but me, hayley & Phil are definates and I think that Charlotte will be back from hols too. How bad a hangover am I going to get on Thursday (my Birthday!). The journey back to Hamshire could be interesting…
How much would you pay for a smart (sexy) shirt? Send me ideas! (from 26th Jul 04)
February 21, 2009 at 3:06 am | In Migrated 20six stuff | Leave a CommentTags: clothes, jinx, pubs
Saturday’s plan was to meet Hayley and go shopping for wedding clothes. We had previously agreed that it would be cool to try and co-ordinate clothes/colours and we wanted new gear. Phil and Liz (Hayleys mate from Lincolnshire way) came down as well. H & L were in varying stages of hangover – I passed on Friday night drinking cus I was so knackered. The Arches were proving annoyingly stubborn in their reluctance to throw up any suitable clothes. I was thinking ruffles but the ruffley shirts were all, well, too ruffley.
Phil tried to buy me roller-trainers – trainers with wheels that could pop out the bottom to skate with then pop back in to walk with. They were kind of cool but I’m not sure that I’d ever wear them. I am up for roller-blades though…
Hayley bought a nice flowy white skirt and two sets of curtains with which to make a top – she is going “boho-chic”. Hmmm. I was getting frustrated with the lack of shirts that would work – still not sure what I want but might have to step away from cheap second hand camden stuff and splash out on a smart sexy new shirt from some proper store. All suggestions welcomed!
Needed to spend money on something so suggested the pub. Fox & Nina met us in the ice wharf for a pint and recommended a retro shop opposite the market. H & L left us to go home and getr ready for going out in the evening – they were on some crappy guestlist for a Covent Garden Club but their group had dwindled through sickness and they considered coming to the party/ies with the rest of us. Retro shop was crap – me & P left camden empty handed – Bah!
Back Home and later…
Tricia & Me had drinks with Colin our next door neighbour who passed glasses of Alize over the fence – nice. We all got ready to head off to the Osidge to meet up with Jon who’s party was going to be first on the agenda. H & L blew out the club and would come and meet us their. We were ment to go to Dalston after for Nicoles party but it was a long way and we were going to see how we all felt.
Phil spent the bus ride to the Osidge (as he always does) complaining that he didn’t see why we had to go to a different county (middlesex) to have a pint when there was a pub a minute from our house – Tricia agreed with him. Hurumph. Ah well, they only do it to try and wind me up a bit. Me & Phil have a jinx moment when we say “JETPACKS” at the same time when thinking of new ways to travel to the pub quicker.
Land of a thousand pubs (from 16th Dec 03)
February 19, 2009 at 2:28 pm | In Migrated 20six stuff | 2 CommentsTags: dreams, pubs, steam train, victorinox potato peeler
I was very rude last night, to people real, or otherwise. I had got a job working with an old steam train, doing manual work (very strange for me, I am not a man known to operate tools well (with the exception of the victorinox potato peeler)), so I’m not sure exactly what I was doing in that particular job. Enough of this work thing I thought and I headed off for a drink or two. I think it was in the centre of London, the pubs I was in sprawled over levels and seemed to run into one another. It was pub heaven. I ran through the pubs, from one groups of friends to another, never having to leave part of the world that could be described as non-pub. Old school friends, who I didn’t recognise, were meeting to say hello, and describe the hells of lives they had lived through these past 8 or so years since leaving Priestlands. But I was in no mood for deep conversation with half remembered memories, I had half a bottle of wine to locate somewhere in the immediate vicinity.
Off I ran, again, darting past wooden pillars, down tight staircases and round drinkers till the bottle was in my sight, hand, mouth.
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