Category Archives: the lanes

Long time, no see

Weeeeell, it has been some time since my last post. In that time I lost my house, my job and my laptop charger decided to pooter to a stop. It’s been going pretty frickin’ swell I can tell you. That and my lack of human contact contributing to a wee bit of stress and strain with my main source of human contact. I’ve been quite hard on her and it’s not really fair. BUT I’m moving to foggy old London town and received a part in The Importance of Being Ernest in the Brighton Fringe so praps things will start to look up!

Home? Cake? YES

Now I’m going to share with you yet another strange going on in the Old Stein. Walking toward the bus stop at around half nine in the evening I had to pass through a wide alleyway that connects the Lanes with the Stein. It was already quite dark and when I glimpsed two black clad figures loitering awkwardly by the wall I felt a touch of apprehension. However, as muggers their demographic was all wrong; a man, mid-thirties and an older woman, portly both wearing black wind breakers. Their conversation halted abruptly as I passed, furthering their suspicious nature and the long, awkward silence was suddenly broken by the bleep and crunch of a police walkie-talkie. The pair wore their best poker-faces and made no move to answer it.

So, presumably I’ve been witness to yet another act of terrible police surveillance in the Stein. Maybe they’re onto me. Maybe I’m not as paranoid as I should be! I;d rather think they were criminals who’d pick up tips on theft after watching Drive.

Anyway, I’ve got to go move house again. Toodles.

I think we both need the toilet.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , ,

More Observations to evoke Awe and Lol

Observation 1: I have never seen an Oriental Asian woman smoke. And a quick google for a suitable image here turned up way too much porn.

Observation 2: Preparing for a Musical Society fundraising night in the Pavilion Tavern, known colloquially as the Chav Pav Tav, my Tipperary friend and I were playing a choice selection of CHOONS from my tinny speakers as we hastily downed our cans. It was 90s night but our tastes steered chronologically toward the millennium and we rediscovered this gem:

And we decided that it just doesn’t sound right not being blared from a mobile phone.

As we eventually wandered into town, tummies fizzy with lager, we were approached by an older gentleman asking for a light. His skin was tanned, accent vaguely Eastern European and he was smartly turned out, replete with a fedora and broad moustache. He kindly offered us a pre-rolled cigarette for the use of my friend’s lighter and, smiling, he wandered off on his way. It wasn’t until he turned that I noticed the amber light reflecting off the tears on his cheeks.

90s night was an occasion of awful fashion, warm glasses and absolutely fantastic music. I’ll take Haddaway over your Rhianna everytime, society. And what with hipster trendy dress sense starting ironically adopt hideous 90s dress sense I wasn’t quite sure who’d come for the party or who was just a bell-end.

what I don't even..?!

I ended up losing my mate, finding myself on the beach by the pier having a sing-song with some kind of band(?) and being plied with beers, fags, group hugs and heartfelt promises to meet up for coffee the next day. Richard if you’re reading this then you’ll already know I missed our date. There were also Frenchmen. So, yay, FRIENDS.

Just a picture wot I took in Brighton

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: