Thursday, December 22, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
We were off to see Pelican in London and for some reason after Buzz picked me up we opted for a winding route out of town through a few housing estates. These estates (by Ipswich standards) are posh ones, white goods and cars on bricks are kept down to an absolute minimum. Down in the trough of a hill in the middle of a strange green oasis in the middle of this 70s beige finger up to architecture there is a small playing field, used largely as a massive dog latrine and drinking area for local yoofs. As you are passing the middle of this field of inequity and at the absolute base of the hill there is a large concrete loop that is attached to the road at either end of it's curve. This man made ox-bow lake is used by buses for turning round. I'm no fan of our local transport and all thier habits (I only collect the numbers okay) but I know this is where buses turn round as there is a big sign that says 'no cars, bus turning space'.
As we three merry gig goers desended this hill the car in front in a shocking (but geographically fitting) fit of anarchy turned into the aforementioned bus only area. Our driver/ navigator did what anybody in his position would do and halted our progress using the traditional method of gentle braking resulting in our carriage rolling to a gentle and dignified halt.
As we continued what was probably a very high-brow conversation I heard Buzz (Barthomelew Stronghold) abruptly change the flow of conversation with a, "WHAT THE FUCK". It would appear the driver behind was not such a fan of the aforementioned traditional driving practice of ceasing forward movement when the carriage in front has halted.
After the most incredible force any of us have ever felt in our entire lives Buzz and Andy in the front seats turned to ask if I was alright. In situations like this you can always count on somebody to utter something very obvious that will come to define the few very strange minutes that you are sharing in this very strangly intimate way. This time it was my turn, realising the gravity of this responsiblity I paused for a moment to give myself a chance to come up with something truely defining, "I need to get out of the car".
You know that feeling when you 'crick' your neck? On impact that's what I got, but multiplied by about 1000%. It felt like the muscles in my neck and back had reached up and strangled my brain. I've got some wicked whiplash but I'm pretty much okay, I have to go for some x-rays later to day to check nowt is broken.
I feel sorry for Buzz, he bought this car about a month ago for £1000 and a week or so later he had to spend £750 on a new gear box, and now this!
Posted by Andrew Laws at 12:05 pm
Monday, December 05, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
The involuntarily deep intakes of breath emphasised the taste of the air, it was musty and hot, a foul mixture of sweat and cheap cigarettes. Coughing in an attempt to clear the lungs only resulted in a sharper intake of air that sent sharp pains launching like flares across Jay’s chest. Jay fell to his knees and allowed his body weight to pull his arse to the floor till it was resting side by side with his ankles. The strings on the 1976 Rickenbacker 4001 still vibrated wildly, occasionally making contact with the fret board then glancing back off it. Jay mindlessly stared at the orange and green lights dancing back and forth across the body of his bass as his deep breaths rocked it gently against his lap. The effort of another sharp intake of breath pulled Jay’s shoulders back then dropped them forward pulling his arms to hang limply at his sides. The guitar shifted and the headstock crashed into the gaffer taped floor knocking it further out of tune and changing down the pitch of the feedback that reverberated around Jay’s head. A rivulet of blood running down the back of his wrist caught his eye, he smiled weakly. It was done.
Posted by Andrew Laws at 9:40 am