severingt - Tumblr blog

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Michelle

I dont think of myself as a nice guy, I prefer to be a good guy. I strive towards this as I think nice guys just get shat on.

So, in 2013 I went to Jamaica and met Michelle. I actually stayed at her place and we shared an appreciation of alcohol. During my time there, Michelle took me to see her friend at Hart training which I think was a government body. A waste of time as the woman there asked me to send my CV and ideas when I got back to UK, which I did and am still awaiting a reply some 8 years later.

Anyway, Michelle wanted to use her place, Michelles Great House, for training in the area that I work in, Management, CPD etc. So there have been a number of false starts and last time I thought if this doesnt happen then I'm not bothering. It didnt

However, I went back on that as the new idea involved her sister and a new venue which she had recently built with her husband, John.

So, I was asked to put something together which basically was like a job application to show what I can bring to the table. So, once again, I bit and produced this:

How to be part of it

The two areas that we discussed:

Customer Service

Change Management

A little about Coaching too

We discussed Taster Sessions to provide Management buy-in; so, like a sales pitch. These sessions might be of 2hrs max. duration. They may have to be a Loss-Leader to start with until we become the Partner of Choice for organisations. It then becomes arguable whether we would need them.

Briefly discussed follow-up sessions; for example, Basic to Advanced or maybe better phrasing would be Practitioner to Master Class?

So, the H/W set was:

How can I be part of it?

Do I want to be part of it?

Yes, I want to be part of it, after 8 years of planning; I think this might be the time when it comes together.

So, the ‘How’ really comes down to what you need and can I provide that. So, the next section is going to read like a CV [Resume for any Canadians readingJ].

I am internationally mobile; I’m not tied to any one country; so, Jamaica and Canada pose no problems. I have an Irish [EU] passport so I can easily access those countries if ever we needed to

I have experience of writing courses to Awarding Body standards and to bespoke guidelines

I have experience of working with Awarding Bodies to create accredited courses and conform to their quality standards

I am skilled in writing for self and for other trainers to deliver

Experience in many sectors:

Government [UK and internationally]

Work-Related

Management

Offender

Initial Teacher Training

Experience of planning class / training room layout to optimise learning experience

I have an Assessor Qualification which allows me to perform graded observations on other trainers [if needed] and ensure quality of provision

I can oversee the physical provision:

Hardware

Need to have / nice to have

Training room layout

The intellectual provision [offer]:

To write and resource courses

Delivery to a high standard

Ensuring quality and standardisation between events and trainers

To perform course interviews

To coach participants

Money:

The profit is in repeats as there are no R&D costs

Value-Addedness or better Enrichment activities shouldn’t cost a lot. So, in-house activities more than field trips? If we thought that these could be an option when booking probably managers would not take them up to keep their costs down; so, they should be just ‘what we do’ our USP if you like.

So, what are we going to pay ourselves? I remember researching this some years ago and I found that top trainers were commanding a daily fee of £1000+ [about 1700 Canadian]. Please don’t think that’s what I want but we have to come to a figure that we can all live with whilst supporting a healthy company.

Further Thoughts:

Since the meeting I’ve been thinking about Train the Trainer courses of various duration Note, I have 2-day courses, 3-week courses ready to run [both C&G courses but we can adapt]

Coaching Skills might be an avenue worth exploring as a short course

Crucially, for quality purposes at least, everyone that is client-facing should receive training in Presentation Techniques, so we are all singing from the same hymn sheet. There can be nothing that undermines a company more than a client talking to one of us and then getting a different answer from someone else in the company. So, professionalism really.

Is this what you wanted?

Questions:

How long do you want the courses to be?

Group size [ultimately this will determine cost to individual / organisation]

What will our commitment be timewise? We talked a little about this but it’ll probably remain a grey area until we know how successful we are

Consider creating an organisational chart

“If it’s not fun, it’s not worth doing” – some Irish guy, 2024

So, I sent it to them and waited. Then I asked whether that was what they wanted and I got back 'Partially'. She said she wanted to start in January

So, we had a few more meetings and I told her that my lease was coming to an end mid-October and I need to know whether we're going ahead or what as I could put my stuff in storage or find a new place here in Thailand

12th September I was told that her sister was coming to Jamaica and they would talk and come to a good decision. The weekend came and went, my birthday [16th] came and went without any message. so I left it for 2 weeks and still nothing. So, I found a new property and put a 22,000 baht deposit on it to move in 15th October.

I'm not angry with Michelle, I'm just disappointed in me falling for it again. Hope will kill you. But, I'm retired. I was coming out of retirement for this project. I dont need it

But I really wont be falling for any of this again. I'm sure I'll get a call in December asking me when I'm coming. Oh, well.

19:12:24

I got an invitation to a celebration of life which was clearly a case of send to all in address book

28:12:24

As predicted, a video call came in which I missed as I had my phone on Do Not Disturb. I didnt call back.

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Why

Why are there so many things keeping us apart when we can now be so close?

Why is it that what I say means one thing to me and something completely different to you?

Why are my motives questioned when my only motive is you?

Why are my actions always found to be lacking?

Why do I now do everything wrong when once I did everything right?

Why do I keep hurting you when all I really want to do is please you?

Why do we stay together when all we do is hurt each other?

Why can’t we break the ties that bind us together?

Why do we continue to try?

Why do I have to be a mind reader nowadays?

Why do I always think it’s getting better when it becomes worse?

Why are we both so afraid to be one when clearly that’s what the relationship wants?

Why do we both fight it so vigorously?

Why do we stay together?

Why are phone calls so frustrating?

Why do they leave more questions than answers?

Why don’t I know what our relationship is when I hang up the phone?

Why are three little words so hard to say?

Why are they so hard to believe?

Why is their validity questioned all the time?

Why are they used as a weapon?

Why are the ties that bind us so strong?

Why can neither of us bear to be without the other?

Why do we keep coming back for more?

Why do we put ourselves through it all?

Why do I love you so much that it hurts deep inside?

Why do I want to cling on to the best thing I’ve ever had?

Why does my body ache for you?

Why does my mind crave your company?

Why do I want to wrap myself in the softest bosom?

Why do I want to kiss the tenderest lips?

Why do I want to feel the softest skin under my hands?

Why do my eyes want to gaze at the most beautiful face?

Why do you please me with just a glance, a smile, a touch?

Why do all these feelings happen at the same time?

Why?

Simply because I love you

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Pauls Birthday Card 02/10/24

Hey, mate

First of all, Happy fucking Birthday. What a cunt it is being old, and I’m nearer the finishing line than you are.

So, what to talk about? Billy No Mates, you gotta hear their record, CACTI, it’s just right there. You can hear it on YouTube and then there’s Gina Birch, I play my bass loud, again on YouTube.

I hope you’re well? I know you were run off your feet last time we made contact.

I miss you.

So, John has 3 kids, and works on the railway. James has epilepsy so doesn’t officially work. He’s married with 2 kids. Dad’s still going but looking drawn [whatever that is]. Pete has turned into the architype grumpy/angry old man. He talks at me for an hour or so regularly.

Johns mum, Lesley, died last year. Alone in a flat in Gosport. Apparently fell out with the rest of the family over money after her mother died. I felt shock but not sorrow. John inherited a Mercedes and a Brabus Smart car, so a bit of money but nothing to compare to being abandoned for 28 years

I got out of the UK last September. I found it very difficult to acclimatise after 5 years in Malta. I stuck with it purely for financial [pension] reasons and of course covid. The language can be an issue sometimes but we have Google Translate.

So, I live in Thailand, Pattaya, now and I can live a good life as the cost of living [and drinking] is much less than UK. It can get a bit lonely but it was lonely in the UK:

Steve Ratsey: Salisbury

You: Midlands ish

Pete: Just doesn’t go out

Russ: Portsmouth but so fucking boring

David Ede: London but wants to be home at 9pm

Kevin: Malta and now with an old sort so doesn’t need friends

Andy: In Sweden and married

Paul Naish: died

I started playing guitar again, well, I’m enjoying it. I got a second-hand Takamine acoustic [way out of my price range new]. Lovely guitar. I contributed to the Play Music on the Porch day this year. I played Ohh La La [Ronnie Lane]. 8 takes to get a reasonable shot and even then, I made a mistake which I thought I’d get away with but started giggling

I was talking to a guy in a bar and his mate had just died and during the conversation [about dying abroad] he told a story of another friend that died in Africa and got flown back to UK. Everything went well and when the family saw the coffin, they wanted to see the body. So, they opened it up. That was the mistake as science then took over. Climate played a part in what ensued which was ok till the lid came off. The heat of Africa gave way to the cold of Britain which was being contained by the confines of the coffin. The lid came off, the body expanded and finally exploded. Actually exploded. Rotten meat flew all over the place, all over the staff and all over the relatives. Well, tragic huh? I just laughed, couldn’t help it

Where has all the time gone? I know I wasted so much time in factories 2 x 7 years. Whilst others were furthering their careers, I was getting covered in oil every day. It’s what you do if you have a family and mortgage. Then the prison service, 14 years; some of which were productive. I did get a Degree in the end and that focused me on what I wanted to do. But having Prison Officer on my CV didn’t help a change of career into education. It took me 4 years of applications and interviews before Hammersmith gave me a chance

But let’s not get depressed. Oh, too late

Weed is legal here. Theres a bar at the end of the road called Henry’s that sells it. I drink there. One evening, I was in there talking to Reggie the owner and he gave me 2 joints. So eventually I lit one up and took 3 puffs. My memory is very sporadic after that till about 3 am.

I pissed myself, shat myself, my girlfriend had to clean me up. I threw up my body weight. I couldn’t control my arms or legs. Ambulance called, into A&E and 7,000 baht, about £160, ambulance back home. 3hrs later up and out by coach to BKK airport for a trip to Chiang Rai. I don’t know how I did it.

So, that’s about it, I guess. Quite entertaining and I hope you smiled.

I hope you get out for a beer or get some in to celebrate [?] your birthday

Take care mate and I’m sure we will have a drink before we both leave

Glenn

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Desiderata Card

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for there will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe; no less than the trees and the stars, you have the right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labours and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham drudgery and broken dreams it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

- Attributed to Max Ehrmann 1927

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

It's amazing what you find in a filing cabinet - i forgot i wrote this

‘Sometimes I just wanna drift away’, he confided to himself. ‘I used to sometimes too’, he continued, with a wry grin. ‘Bury my head in the sand and it would go away’. But things have a habit of catching up with you, as his mother once told him – but, as Lou says, ‘you can’t always trust your mother’.

The grin had disappeared, only to be replaced by whitening lips, as his teeth clenched as the stress of that memory replayed itself through his head to the extent, at one point, that he was reliving it. Then, as it always does, came the shudder and a blink back to reality followed by the tingle up his spine and exiting through his fingertips, like electricity finding an earth.

He hated that memory, feared it really, which is why it kept recurring. Every rerun brought more loathing which brought more frequent reruns. It started years ago, not long after the revelation, as he called it.

At first, it was glimpses in night dreams, but now, he could barely escape drifting into daydreams which were turning ever more detailed and vivid. So much so that reality was playing an ever lesser role in his life. ‘One day, I won’t come out of it and then what will become of me? Will I implode? Will I be forced to relive that part of my life as if it were some kind of cosmic time loop or my own personal groundhog day, forever? Will I die, or just rewind?’ Isn’t that how madness first grips us? Who amongst us could answer these questions? No sane man living could possibly know. But logic never stopped anything.

He led a lonely life since his divorce. Because of his background and documented mental health problems, the judge thought it best to exclude him from being part of his daughter’s life. Of course, she wasn’t his flesh and blood daughter; he claimed that he did have a real daughter by a previous liaison but doctors failed to prove his involvement. He would never do what they were afraid he was capable of doing to this adopted daughter, but, when they were alone, he did make her cry.

You see, he needed her; he needed her more than his wife. He had pleaded with his wife as he did during their marriage and manage to get her to relent and allow minimal access. His wife is another story.

They married long ago when drinking was more of an everyday activity than the treat it is now. As his personality dictates, he got involved too deep. A stay at a detox unit relieved him of his dependence but also lost him some of his soul. The required psychiatric sessions revealed the core problem to be his mother, no surprises there really, doesn’t everyone have problems with their mother? He had tried to make his wife into his mother, making her do all but the most basic things for him. She was so besotted and willing to help, that she took on the role almost unknowingly.

It was at this point the relationship deteriorated as they stopped living as husband and wife and started living as mother and son. He felt safe, she felt less and less. As loneliness breeds depression, so his position was declining. Work attendance was sporadic as were excursions into personal hygiene. He had a brief affair with a woman whom he met at a local singles bar but she fled in the early hours one Saturday morning, barely delaying her exit to get dressed and gather her few possessions.

Alone again, he drifted away more often and frequently encouraged it and was less glad to return from his excursions. He briefly tried to rekindle his relationship with his ex-wife, but that proved fruitless and all he got was a caution for making nuisance phone calls.

He always hated his father and held a thriving contempt for every fibre of his being; especially since the revelation, especially since then. To be fair, the old man hated his son too; hated all he stood for. But most of all hated the memories that looking at his son brought back. Of course, he was too proud to admit it but, the memory of the ridicule he had to suffer at the hands of his lesser and the papers – oh god, those headlines, and it was all the fault of his son. Even that word stuck in his throat, ‘son’. An unholy demon from hell sent to put a blight on a proud family’s name, more like.

His mother was always quiet; well, for as long as he could remember anyway. He wished she had been a dumb mute. At least then she would not have been able to blurt out her revelation that Easter Monday. He had been slipping her an infrequent glass of old British Sherry, to the point where she was recounting stories of their previous life on the island. As alcohol takes its course, the imbiber is on a slippery slope to depression.

So it was with his mother, as the evening wore on, the stories got progressively less amusing. Then they turned into thinly veiled attacks on her husband, who, at first, calmly took it; but, later, became more and more concerned; until, at last, the inevitable arguing ensued; which lead to the revelation, which begat total stunned silence, then violence, shouting, blaming, crying – lots of crying; not only his mother but his father too.

He couldn’t believe what he had heard or seen. He did know he felt quite sick and the thought of what he had just been told quickly made this feeling a reality. That was the first sign of his haunting. That is what led him to where he is now; a man on the edge praying for a release as he liked to see himself without thought for cliché.

However, release does not always come in an expected form, so it was with him. ‘I can handle them not being married’, he thought; after all it happens all the time nowadays, little Cindy was his own evidence of that, even though he had never seen her, he knew she was his and that they would be together some day. ‘It’s the other stuff that makes me quake’. ‘I wonder does she have her own nightmares, please don’t let her have mine.’ He didn’t know, but he would. Melodramatic thoughts of how they may be together permeated his psyche for some time and his body showed the physical excitement of such thoughts.

His adopted daughter, Leiha, held secrets of his actions and, since the last time, had struggled to gain restful sleep. Piece of mind came with the separation and divorce and the memories were fading that perhaps they were dreams all along, she really wasn’t sure anymore. But she knew she didn’t want to stay overnight with daddy when he asked her to. Sure, he’d spoil her, as daddy’s do, but she was afraid of the night in that house, afraid of her dreams. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand this and was convinced that his wife was turning Leiha against him.

Nothing was further from the truth in reality, as Jean suspected nothing and in fact tried to persuade Leiha to go. Okay, perhaps not for the same reasons, but she resented his accusations none-the-less. After all, Jean wanted to get on with her own life now that she had finally summoned up the courage to leave him. She did not ever resent having Leiha with her and always thought of her as her own; but the responsibility of a young child did hamper her socialising and meeting men.

Since the divorce, she had encouraged male company and, being physically attractive herself, had achieved a degree of success. Although none were the marrying kind, this suited her as neither was she now. She relished physical closeness; wallowed in it some might say, like her friend Suzanne.

Suzanne was her very, very best friend from school. It was Suzanne that was there to take her home after her getting too drunk on cider at the church discos in their teens. It was Suzanne who showed her what to do each month when she became a woman and of course it was Suzanne that she confided in about losing her virginity and everything else since.

Jean imagined that her need for physicality to be due to the coldness she had felt at her husband’s hands, for so many years. She wouldn’t feel bitter as that would mean she still had feelings for him and she knew that wasn’t so.

So, Leiha being out of the way with her father for most of the weekend, leaving Jean a free agent, was well worth siding with him for. But she had relented when she saw the fear in her daughter’s eyes and, just for a moment, the thought entered her head and, before she could unscramble it, was gone again. But the shiver in her spine was enough. She snapped back to reality and, upon realising she had been daydreaming, thought ‘I’ll be as crazy as him if I don’t watch it’. ‘Another weekend with a DVD, a bottle of vodka and a friend beckons, still that’s all part of being a parent’, she thought. ‘If I were as footloose and fancy free as him, I wouldn’t be sitting around in doors feeling sorry for myself. Life is to experience, but let’s not get maudlin’, she thought with a resigned sigh. ‘If I can’t go out with a man, I’ll stay in with Suzanne’, she thought as she picked up the phone handset to call her.

The call was brief; she would come over about 7.30 with little Jools and they would stay the night. The two kids would sleep together as would Jean and Suzanne. They had done this too many times to remember since the separation. Suzanne was Jeans only friend from school, everyone else had gone off and had lives elsewhere that didn’t include Jean. She suspected this was due to her looney tunes anti-social husband, but didn’t know for sure but it was another stick to beat him with.

Jean had never seen Suzanne with a man, and therefore was more than a little surprised when Suzanne came back from that year in a kibbutz heavily pregnant with little Jools. She had never offered an explanation and Jean hadn’t asked. ‘I’ll try to remember to ask about him tonight before the vodka pickles my brain’. It seemed strange that the father had never come up in conversation because Jean used to use these nights in as a sort of confessional. The more she thought about it, the greater the realisation that Suzanne had never confided any male related incidents. ‘Well, she will tonight’, was Jeans resolve.

7.30 came and so did Jools and Suzanne. The little girls went off to bed within the hour and the big girls cracked open the vodka and inserted the silver disc into the player. Suzanne had picked the film and, unusually, it was an action film. ‘You normally choose romance, Suze’ said Jean, ‘yeah, I feel different tonight, I don’t know why’. Jean poured two more shots of vodka and topped the glasses up with orange juice from the carton, spilling some onto the coffee table and then the floor. ‘god damn these cartons!’, she exclaimed, ‘I’d like to get my hands on whoever invented cartons the arsehole’. Suzanne went into the kitchen for some paper towels to soak up the juice.

Jean hoped that Suzanne’s mood would allow her to be more lucid and, as the night wore on; Jean would get her wish, and wish she hadn’t.

He knew it would be soon, it always ends about the same time. Occasionally, tantalising him with a few extra minutes but this time he couldn’t wait for it to end. The strange thing was that when it did end, and reality returned, he was always surprised. The end was coming as the shouting had started then threats and blame.

Suddenly, in the darkness behind his mother, he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. Just a glimpse, a vague outline of a large form in the shadows; it wasn’t an aura as such but it wasn’t a human form either. Or was it a trick of the light? Yea, of course it was a trick of the light. The situation being so highly charged with emotion, is it any wonder that imagination should play tricks and, after all, it is only a dream and you can do anything and everything is possible in a dream, isn’t it?

His father’s first physical attack on his mother always shocked him; as it did his father – he could see that by the expression on his father’s face. A clenched fist hitting always makes a different sound to a slap. This one drew blood too from the side of his mother’s mouth and a rivulet made its way to her chin where she used her middle finger of her right hand to scrape it up to her lip where she sucked it from her finger. She was hurt, angry and very excited as her gaze went from her husband to her son. ‘Do you want to know the whole story, son?’ she drawled, ‘well, do you? Are you tough enough?’

He always woke at this point rather than make the decision. But this time, he heard himself say ‘yes mum, tell me everything’. He felt his body temperature drop and his stomach start twisting up, as it does when you know you’ve done something wrong and are awaiting the consequences. He heard his father protest and start towards his mother but something stopped him and flung him against the wall where the big photo that pretended to be a painting of them all playing happy families hung. Hitting the wall with such force knocked his father for six and he slumped to the floor.

Now, his mother was strong as most women are, but he knew she hadn’t laid a finger on her husband. Could it have been the form he half saw in the shadows and dismissed as a trick of the light earlier? Her voice was definitely lower in tone when she said, ‘sit down, son, if you don’t need to now, you soon will’. He sat on the sofa with his back straight, his hands clamped tightly to his knees, listening intently.

‘Do you want some more vodka, Suze?’ Jean asked, whilst filling her own glass. ‘Okay, but it’ll be my last, I’m feeling a little ikkie’ replied Suzanne. The credits were rolling at the end of the film now and Jean said, ‘well, what on earth was all that about?’, ‘search me’, said Suzanne ‘it looked good from reading the box in the rental place’. ‘Yeah, right’, Jean replied, cynically, ‘I’ll choose next time’, she continued, ‘let’s talk about men, Leiha won’t go and stay overnight with him, you know. She seems scared to and although it would be nice to have some time to myself, I’m not going to force her’.

Suzanne agreed and Jean continued, ‘it really feels like ancient history now. In fact, I feel like a totally different person and I’ve had a few since him, I’ve got to say. Best thing I ever did physically; know what I mean, Suze?’ ‘Oh, for sure, you deserve it Jean, after being a surrogate mother to that useless article for so many years’, said Suzanne. Jean responded ‘you know, I didn’t know it could be so good; certainly with him it was over almost before it started. It certainly wasn’t quality over quantity either – no quality and no quantity – but I have made up for lost time since.’ ‘You old slut!’ joked Suzanne. ‘Well, let’s hear from you, Suze, I can’t remember you ever telling me any of your secrets. When was the last time you got laid?’

Suzanne leaned forward to reach her glass on the coffee table, sat back and took a long drink. Jean noted the change in her friend’s mood and thought she saw some moisture round Suzanne’s eyes. She stared blankly into the vodka glass which she was holding between both hands between both legs. She took a deep, deep breath and started to relate her story.

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

So, I was sacked was I?

This can all be traced back to a gig at Cafe Jubilee Gzira. I stated at the time that if we let it, this will be the undoing of the band and we should put it down to square pegs in round holes. However, no one listened.

Rehearsals started being boring and just really getting in the way of drinking beer. Songs that I wanted to cover were 'poo-pooed' as losing us half our audience [strangely as previously the same song was agreed to be worthy]. Strangely, Venus in Furs was not thought of in the same way when it was clearly of the same ilk.

We started doing Country songs and easy listening stuff with no clear direction and our original purpose for being a band was diluted beyond recognition.

I went to the UK and whilst I was away clearly something happened. I do know that Jan and Dick rehearsed and that they all were seen [scheming] in the Office one night

I do know that when I came back to Malta and we rehearsed there was a strange atmosphere which I chose to ignore and just played and wrote a new tune [I was the only one that brought new material to the table]. Then we set about putting together a set list for the Beer Festival [I refer to this below]. Three days later the below conversation happened

Conversation started 11 June

11:00 Glenn Travers I don’t know about you but I wasn’t impressed with last night

11:27 Jan Joachimsen Neither was I. In fact I had a rather sleepless night in which I came up with the decision we should step out of the beer festival. Will write you and Dick a thorough message in the next 3 hours . but in a nutshell that’s what I think

14:54 Jan Joachimsen Too risky for such a big event like the Farsons. I wrote to you and Dick on Facebook. My feeling is that it will be the same audience response as at Jubilee’s. Just a bigger crowd not liking it . and I cant do that L

15:00 Glenn Travers Well we might as well shut the band down now then

15:23 Jan Joachimsen We might as well do that too. With everyone leaving anyway....

13:43 Jan Joachimsen Hi Glenn and Dick, after our "audition" yesterday evening and a following sleepless night, I have come up with a decision: it's better to not play at Farsons Beerfest. Phil's reaction showed me that we are still far away from having achieved a quality and presence that can catch a crowd, no matter what we do. We are simply not good enough.

Also with all the insecure line-up and constant changes, there is no way we can put together a convincing show for such a big event. This is not just one little pub, this is THE Farsons. My instinct tells me we would get the same response as from Phil yesterday, but just on a bigger scale. And I personally am not a fan of suicide missions. It is a pity for an audience not hearing our original songs. But we can also achieve that via Soundcloud (which worked well for "Marsalfornication", who never played a single note live). I'm sorry to sound like a spoil-sport, but I hope you can understand my doubts. Regards, Jan

16:23 Glenn Travers Jan, nice to have such a positive picture. So, based on one person that you ASSUME didnt like what we played, youre prepared to throw away months of rehearsals - one persons opinion! and who is he? What credibility has he got that makes his opinion so believeable? I dont believe we're not good enough, I think you're clinging onto the Cafe Jubilee thing as support for this.

2 weeks ago we played to 200 people and to very positive feedback, we did this in spite of not being able to hear each other; I think that shows we are certainly 'good enough'

16:38 Jan Joachimsen No matter who he is, his face was a good indicator, and he wasn't the first one. Do you have exact numbers for positive feedback at the Dolmen? The athmosphere was awkward there, too. And I usually sense that. And from my own feeling, too, we are simply not good enough.

16:39 Glenn Travers This is pathetic

17:29 Dick Woolley Sorry guys to be late into the conversation but my departure is going to be very soon and so have been very busy as a result. I have to agree with Jan on this. Last night merely acted as a catalyst which allowed my misgivings to form a solid opinion. If I was not going away, then I would say we might find enough time to create a revamped act that could take to that large stage and carry an audience of strangers. But this is not the case.

All the gigs we have played so far have been to limited and largely friendly audiences and yet they have been just about ok at their best. After six months I would have liked it to have been at a higher level and I cannot see it transforming overnight. I probably should have spoken out before, but I guess I was carrying false hopes. I have thoroughly enjoyed it all but I do not want to spoil the end by a flat performance. And for sure it is the end as Glenn is going to UK and I am not going to be here.

17:35 Glenn Travers I'll leave it to you guys to tell the Farsons - Im out of this

18:12 Glenn Travers Well, I'm sorry that I have not been able to raise my game to the required standard. I really thought we were doing ok, how pathetic is that? Just as well it's ending now so as to not waste any more of your time. I could have gone home at the end of June, I only postponed it so that we could do the gigs, ah well never mind. I kinda enjoyed it even tho now I know it was all false

19:04 Dick Woolley Glenn, it is not about individual performances, it is about the overall performance of the band.

16 July

18:21, Glenn Travers: I have been informed that you have decided to reverse what you told me and Kevin and are playing the Farsons. Good luck with that As I clearly cannot believe a single word you say I wish to put this in writing - I hold the copyright to my songs and if you or any of your co...[I dont know what non contemptuous word to use to describe] play any of them in whole or in part I will take legal action I know its a long shot but if you have any ethics left, please do not push me into this as I will protect what is mine You reap what you sow

From: Jan Joachimsen Yes, it took me a week to come to the conclusion that there is no reason why I shouldn't play the Farsons. After all, you yourself said more than once that evening that this was MY decision. So I after a week, I made my final decision. The show trial you and Kevin gave me at the Office, left me in a position where I just can't go back to where we were before. It surely is very understandable that you are hurt. But the level of aggressiveness with that you lashed out at everyone (or rather, at me as substitute for everyone else) was remarkable. As for your songs, you can have it here and legally binding that nobody is going to play any of them. Neither now nor in the future. My lyrics, my violin? Keep them. Consider them as a farewell gift. I have no intention to start a legal battle over some little songs we once recorded. Yes, what's yours is yours! That was never in question for me. You own your songs/music alright. But you don't own me. It is still up to ME who I play with and when I play. There is no reason to threaten me for that. Regards, Jan

17 July

Dick Woolley: Glenn, Apologies for having remained silent since my decision not to play at the beerfest as conditions apply. I believed it best to let matters rest as you have taken this as a personal attack and there is little I could contribute of a positive nature. However the correspondence that Jan has chosen to share with me has upset me deeply. Do you remember our conversation regarding copyright? Everything we do is a collaboration I remember you stating. When I suggested that you should establish ownership of material, you said you were thinking that Jan putting it on Soundcloud was a good basic position. I made my decision not to play as part of conditions apply at the beerfest in the belief and spirit of honesty and respect to a large audience as our act was not worthy of such an occasion in my opinion. You appear to have chosen to believe that this decision as a personal attack. It was never intended as such and I never thought that you would react in such a negative way as you have. Do you truly believe that an act that has only played the likes of the qawra access centre and the office has built such a great following to justify a direct booking as the opening act for the beerfest? It was (in my opinion) Maddee that landed the gig and she picked us to back her. I too have accepted her invitation to play in her backing band for the beerfest as I have the good fortune to be available. When I agreed with Jan to pull the plug on conditions apply I thought the beerfest was gone and lost to me, but I make no apologies for accepting an offer to play with another band. I wish to conclude with thanking you for not dragging my wife into this seemingly childish response to the current circumstances that you have chosen to adopt and to wish you and Seeta all the best for your future. I will state for the avoidance of doubt that I will not deliberately infringe any of your legal rights and will expect and require that you respond in a similar fashion. Dick

Glenn Travers: Well Dick, every action has a reaction and I didnt deserve the way I was treated. I have always considered you all in everything, even choosing to tell you of my decision face to face re relocating as I thought that was the ethical thing to do. After the way you lot have treated me oh boy do i feel silly

I take exception to being called childish as I am the only one that had the guts to face it out whereas you guys - going on a non denial from Jan - chose the back door route. Well what goes around comes around. I am more hurt by the way Jan has treated me as I considered him my closest friend and I think the way he has treated me is shameful but he doesnt seem to understand - or doesnt want to - that. Friends dont do that to one another, not the way I was brought up, I wouldnt do it to him. Even other people that have seen his response thought it laughable that he should try to become the victim. Let me say this just once, if you had a problem why didnt you share it? Why did we spend the last rehearsal putting together a set list if we were that bad? Where's your honesty guys?

I didnt involve Helen specifically as she has nothing to do with this and has always treated me with respect...maybe she should give lessons? The nastiness continues to this day with daily new posts of photos of the gig [strangely not much in the way of an audience can be seen in any pix] and written posts clearly aimed at me from others.

I heard today [7 August] that they are saying that they sacked me which is the reason Ive put this together. But that's the way with cowards, isnt it?

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Untitled

Why does your happiness mean so little while someone elses means so much?

Why do you think it impossible to untangle this knot?

Whereas with a little thought, you'll see that it's not

And find yourself in a much better spot

Here's something my son said to me

The times he's repeated these words are many

He said 'Dad, I love you, obviously

And all I want is for you to be happy'

So ask that innocent, what to do if you're unhappy

Out of the mouths of children truth comes easily

You can ditch this unfair burden you carry

I promise you right now, you are so ready

Become a person, not a possession

Free yourself of this repression

Move yourselves to a new location

Away from all recrimination

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

HMPS

I spent best part of 14 years working for HMPS and I can say it nearly drove me insane by the end.

It took me 4 years to get out, I think having HMPS on my CV worked against me

However, I did take advantage of the few opportunities available to staff. So I was sponsored by HMPS and gained:

City and Guilds 7307 Initial Teaching Certificate

Certificate in Education

BA[Hons] Education

Certificate in Supervisory Management

I worked with some good people, and a majority of vile, incompetent tossers. Some of the people that I liked and thought were good at their jobs then [in random order]: John Covey Mick Chapman Steve Prior Stuart Morley Barry Vant Martin Hemingway Ian Peacock Dave Harwood Steve Norgate John Newman Phil Atkins Derek Welch Pete Rush Joel Standing Arthur Smith Nigel the training manager Tony Deacon and then we come to the tossers, hmmm might have to be a bit creative here...

#steve norgate #barry vant #john covey #mick chapman #martin hemmingway #ian peacock #pete rush #joel standing #jan morley #tony deacon #dave harwood

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

The Officers Lament (with apologies to whoever)

The Officer stood on the burning deck, surrounded by SOs

‘Who’ll lend a hand with this fire?’ he said, ‘for I cannot do it alone’

‘Not us’, all the SOs cried in unison

‘We are management now, you see, and have a ship to run’

The SOs sat in the Captains room, enjoying tea and biscuits

One said ‘shall we give the lad a hand?’ and the rest said, ‘let’s not risk it’

The flames were burning bright on deck and soon took hold of the masts

Whilst the SOs sat in the Captains room looking at holiday photographs

The Officer stood on the burning deck thinking, ‘am I the only one who cares?’

‘Put that bucket down’, an SO said, ‘there’s a report to do over there’

‘But what of the fire?’ the Officer enquired, ‘do I leave it there alight?’

‘There’s more to this job than fires, my lad, read your PPRS all right?’

All eight SOs sat and thought, ‘who could help put out this fire today?’

‘Is there really a fire?’ One asked, ‘or is it just the word of the POA’

The fire was burning bright on the ship, as if it were an oil tanker

‘Abandon ship’, the Officer said ‘don’t worry about the anchors’

The Officer stood at the Pearly Gates and St Peter beckoned him in

‘What happened to the SOs?’ he asked and St Peter started to grin

‘We don’t have those fatherless sons up here, I’m in charge now, you know

They’re far too good for us up here and Hell has no SOs’

Note: for those unused to the UK prison service SO = Senior Officer (one grade up from Officer) PPRS = Annual Staff Report POA = Prison Officers Association (the union) I wonder if this is why they liked me so much.....?

#steve norgate #peter rush #jeff bush

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

life is a strange thing (11th May 2000)

Life is a strange thing, one minute you know where you are and where you will be and something happens that turns the whole thing into a fucking mess.

So, check this out, the degree is nearly over, feelings of helplessness, hopelessness and, as always, paranoia overtake the self. A feeling of sinking beneath a sea of shitty, inane, meaningless couplets without a life belt in sight...or is this just cliché, too? Something wrong somewhere.

I miss my very, very best friend, Paul. We used to talk all the time about music and music. So important, to have a best friend. So important to talk about things Important to you both. Time takes these things away. Paul moved up north some years back and although he’s still my best friend, it’s different…we send cards on Birthdays and Christmas with some witty shit inside but that’s it.

I have stayed with him on I dunno, maybe three occasions when I have been on courses…it’s so strange we can pick up where we left off, even down to the conversation. We always used to be able to do that…change the subject and weave back and forth each of us knowing exactly what the other were talking about without even a pause. Doesn’t happen often. Hasn’t happened to me before or since, or is it now?

Our music taste developed together, too. We used to say that I diverted into soul and he into heavy metal but the middle bit that we both liked was immense. I miss him all the time.

There was never anything sexual… infact we were both so inept in that area that neither of us even had much in the way of girlfriends for the longest time.

Everybody should have a best friend. Time goes on and you forget how much certain things mean to you. Music. Oh, sure there were times when it became more prominent than others…but never to the same extent. I didn’t have anybody to talk to about it. It’s just something that keeps the motivation and interest.

Uncomfortably numb. How the fuck are you expected to feel anything when your heart and soul are missing? Try to get someone that hasn’t had the bite to understand and / or accept that one!

What’s this got to do with anything? It just seems that talking about music to someone that knows what I’m talking about has reinstated music as the most important thing.

Remake / remodel. Like a jigsaw with the missing pieces restored. Like waking after an operation…that first flow of consciousness, the deep intake of breath before the realisation of the pain. The re-evaluation that takes place, so swiftly after the wakening…the return to form, back to how you are - not how others want you to be.

Why shouldn’t it be that I can please myself? If it’s a truth that you can only be responsible for self, then justification need only be to self. It’s honesty, isn’t it? Therefore, there should be no guilt. Guilty of what? It would be easy to dismiss it all as bullshit. But as Lou said for every bit of magic there’s a little loss to even things out.

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Best Man Speech (6th September 2005)

Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. I would first like to thank you all for coming today and helping to make Paul and Becky’s wedding such a memorable and special occasion. Personally, I wish you'd all stayed at home and made my job less nerve wracking.

To put my nerves about speaking here today into perspective, this is the 5th time this afternoon that I have risen from a warm seat with a piece of paper in my hand!

At the bride's request, yesterday Paul and I paid a visit to the barbers … me for a haircut, Paul for a chat Paul was my best man too many years ago and he did a wonderful job. However Paul, there are many reasons why you should get married and I’m not sure if revenge is one of them.

I believe Paul chose me because after all the lurid, depraved and immoral things he got up to as a teenager he was eager to appoint someone with tact, rather than someone who would tell the truth But, it is a great thrill and honour, and Paul’s already agreed that I can do it again next time!

When it came to writing this speech I wasn’t short of material. Although most of it I’ve had to edit, throw away, or burn. So this is what’s left.

Obviously, this is a pivotal moment in the speech where I am meant – in good taste – to put the groom down. So, minus the good taste, I'll proceed. There are some stories you can tell at a wedding and then there are others that might be interesting to tell, but can't really be told. The ones that Paul invented about himself for the Reader's Letters section of Penthouse magazine would be a perfect example.

I really should grasp this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reveal to you all Paul's past misdemeanours. Unfortunately, I have played a part in most of these incriminating events, and I really don't want to tarnish my impeccable reputation.

So instead, I'll keep things very short by talking about Paul's achievements Paul and I have known each other a long time, close to 30 years. We met at Highbury Technical College near Portsmouth and we have been friends ever since.

So, for those of you on Becky's side who are just getting to know Paul, here is some advice. Never let him date a member of your family. My first impression of Paul was a guy with a really distinctive sense of fashion style and, being impressionable, I started to copy him in the sorts of things he used to wear - until my mother grounded me for taking clothes from her wardrobe

You could say we’ve been like brothers in some ways. I watched him drink from a bottle, I watched him stagger around naked, I watched him crawl, I've dressed and undressed him, cleaned up after him and that was only last night!

One of my duties was to get Paul to the registry office on time. Not an easy task, particularly since Becky's nickname for Paul is 'Everlast' - not for his bedroom skills, but for his time keeping. We have GMT, we have BST, but is anyone here familiar with PWT? Well, Paul Williams Time runs about 40 minutes behind either GMT or BST. But despite this, I suppose he does have a knack for being in the right place at the right time - if he didn't, he wouldn't have met Becky who I must say looks absolutely stunning today.

Becky, I don't feel I can stand up here and commit you to married bliss without offering you this one crucial piece of guidance for the years ahead - the remote control is Paul's, and Paul's alone! Paul, she’s a lovely person and deserves a good husband, so make sure you are. You have really scored in marrying Becky. You’ve found someone who is attractive, funny, smart, loving and caring. And Becky, you have found … well, you have found Paul. But seriously, I think you’ve made a wonderful choice for your first husband.

To bring things to a conclusion, I'd like to thank you all for your attention. And let me just say that if you've enjoyed listening to this speech as much as I've enjoyed making it, then all I can do is offer my sincere apologies. Thank you

There remains just one more task for me There are obviously two very important people here today, without whom very little of this would have been possible. And the great thing is that as the evening progresses, most of us will get to spend more and more time talking with them. So please join me in a very special toast – to the bar staff!

I'd like you all to join me in wishing Paul and Becky the very best for their future journey together. And I hope, when they look back years from now on this, their wedding day, they realise it was the day that they loved each other the least

Ladies and Gentlemen, please be upstanding to toast the Bride and Groom. Paul and Becky

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Eulogy for Steve (12th October 2001)

When I was asked to say a few words today, I was very proud to accept. I’d hoped to get this opportunity. Steve and I have within months, the same length of service, 10 years. Within months of being the same age, my youngest son sharing Steve’s birthday We worked very closely together on staff training and previously on inmate Pre-Release Training and have shared similar formative life experiences

So, I thought about how to tackle it, what angle should I take? Then I thought: ‘Why not ask Steve?’ After all, I know him better than most, at the prison anyway. So I did. The first thing I think he’d say would be ‘You got a poison chalice there, bud’ (one of his favourite sayings)

Then I think he’d say what he always said to me regarding presenting training ‘I have confidence in your judgement and trust that you’ll come up with the goods’

Someone once wrote: ‘Shall I mourn your decline with some thunderbird wine and a black handkerchief?’ I don’t think so, that’s not what Steve would want I think Steve would want us to celebrate his life.

I asked for people’s thoughts about Steve and some felt that he believed in what he was doing, others felt that he was very focused. Some felt that he would always try to do right by people. The Samaritans group, and Rachel in particular, will remember him for his constant support.

Within the Prison Service cynicism can easily develop, bearing in mind the nature of the business. Steve rose above this being always both caring and supportive (and I certainly know this to be true). His approach was both individual and unique. Perhaps the nail was hit on the head when someone remarked that Steve was too nice to be a Prison Officer?

My own thoughts are of him being very generous and self-deprecating. For example, he asked me to help him create some computer generated overhead projector slides for his Senior Officer promotion board presentations. He applied for three posts and got offered all three. Even though my contribution was minimal, Steve very generously suggested that my help with the presentation slides contributed to his success. But it wasn’t that, at all. We all knew that he was offered the jobs because he was the best man for each of the jobs.

In his role as training manager at HMP Ford, as with all areas that Steve was involved with, he always tried to go that extra inch to make your experience more rewarding. I would like to relay an anecdote that reinforces this. One of the officers at Ford wrote this for me to use and I think it’s fitting as it involves the Prison Service, the Fire Brigade and this chapel.

An officer at Ford asked Steve if it would be possible for himself and his teenaged son to take a look around Chichester fire station. Steve asked them to come along on a Wednesday parade night. They arrived and Steve started to show them round. After about 10 minutes the alarm went and Steve ran off.

A couple of minutes passed and he returned and said they should cross the road as the church opposite was on fire. They spent the next hour watching Steve and two crews tackle the fire. When the firemen had all packed up, the Prison Officer said to Steve, there was no need to set fire to the church to give us a practical demonstration as well, you know. Typical Steve.

That’s all I have to say apart from to say thank you to Steve for being the best mate anyone could wish for and I (or we) shall miss him very much. -Glenn

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

The story of ‘Nite’ (2nd November 2001)

Late 1974 To the best of my recollection, my brother Peter (although I called him ‘Pott’) was in a band. He played rhythm guitar and a guy called Ian Foster was lead guitarist. I don’t know who else was in that band. The rub was between my brother and Ian anyway.

In a rare moment of us talking civilly to each other he told me that he was unhappy in the band as Ian would mess around too much and do the superstar thing. It’s fair to say at this point that Ian was a quite gifted lead guitarist. So, I said something like what do you want to do? And Pete said, ‘kick him out!’ But he also expressed concern as to what else would happen. I said that if he were unhappy why continue.

I asked did he know of others that could play so that another band could be formed? He knew Prof (Andrew MacLachlan) was a drummer and Mitch (Patrick Mitchum) could play rhythm, which pre-empted his move to lead. He also knew a guy called Stephen Bischhof (Bisch) (?) who could play. The idea was to put him on bass where he couldn’t do too much harm. So, a singer was needed and I volunteered. I’d always fancied it and my guitar playing had been ridiculed for some time. So, there it was, the line up was in place.

But where do we practice? Luckily, my brother and I lived in a house with a double garage that my father was too lazy to put his car in. The scene was set. In the following few days Pete busied himself getting people motivated and handing in his notice with Ian. A date was set, a Sunday afternoon as I recall which was soon upon us.

Our equipment was the envy of none. For that first practice, I used a cassette tape recorder microphone, which went through a Leak amplifier along with the three guitars. Prof had the best gear as he had a full set of Olympic by Premier drums. They were a sparkling gold colour, which was really passé at the time, but, hey, they were real drums dammit!! My brother used my Columbus Gibson SG copy; Mitch used Pete’s Top Twenty Fender Stratocaster copy and I think Bisch had a Fender copy too, we told him that he only need concern himself with the bottom string for bass.

The sound we made was, er, quite unique and Copnor had not heard the like before. By the end of that first practice, we had neighbours from about half a mile away complaining and knocking on the garage ‘up and over’ door.

If enthusiasm was all it took then we were already stars. It is true to say that we were very enthusiastic and happy with the results of the first practice. I can remember Pascal Egan dancing around in the garage, to our amusement. Mostly, the practices were in our garage but some were elsewhere. We had quite a few at Profs house in Bedhampton. This wasn’t just a case of turning up, setting up and playing. This involved pushing a vintage Vauxhall, which was about as heavy as the Golden Gate Bridge, out of the garage before we could start. I can remember pushing the thing over to the petrol station one day just to put air in the tyres! However, I’m straying from the point. Strange isn’t it, I can’t remember people’s names but can remember stupid things like that?

So, our repertoire grew and some practices were better than others. The songs I remember us playing were: Paper Plane (Status Quo) Johnny B Goode (with no lead guitar) Be Bop a Lu La Trouble (with an extra verse) Summertime Blues C’mon Everybody School Days c/w No Particular Place to Go (I think) (Chuck Berry) Wig Wam Bam The Cat Crept In Remember Youre a Womble (once only and I was appalled – think I walked out!) Down Down (Status Quo) Of course we had a go at a lot of songs – I even remember Heroin at one time (the song not taking it!)

We also practiced once at Bisch’s weekend residence in Cowplain. This was a surreal experience and quite near our one and only gig. A little background then, Bisch’s father owned a Swiss Patisserie in Southsea. So, when we went to practice on Sunday afternoon, we were offered all Saturdays left over cakes. Well, that was nice in itself, but Bisch’s father also supplied JPS cigarettes in packs of 50 (in those little round black plastic containers). I can remember Pascal stuffing them in the pockets of his ex-RAF overcoat as if looting!

I had invested in a mic and stand by this point. Not the best in the world but better than the cassette mic I had been using. I think Prof had bought a new cymbal, too. The practice was marked by Bisch’s unveiling of his new equipment, a proper bass guitar and a Traynor amp.

Now, our suspicions were raised when Bisch told us that bass guitars didn’t need tuning. Then the ‘Traynor’ name on the amp was in those stick on angled gold background and black text things. However, it was better than any of our equipment. This highlighted another issue.

As mentioned previously, Bisch was put on bass out of harms way. He used, up to this point, the lowest string of a normal six-string electric guitar going through the same amp as everyone else. Therefore, we couldn’t hear him. Now he had a real bass guitar and a separate amp that was really loud. It hadn’t happened before. We didn’t realise until this point that Bisch had no natural rhythm.

At this time, we were practicing furiously for the gig at the Cumberland on 8th February 1975. So, how was it exactly? Well, I was glad I had the mic stand as this freed up both my hands so I could stick a finger in each ear, as deep as possible. We couldn’t play anything, as when we tried the, er, unsyncopated rhythm threw us into chaos. Pete even took over bass duties at one point to show Bisch how it could be done. Of course Bischs response was ‘I didn’t hear any difference’.

What to do? Hey this is all sounding a bit negative. It must be remembered that we were having fun here and discovering how to push ourselves, how to work within a group, compromise, lots of good skills that (I guess) we all developed further later in life. Also, looking back on it, it was a great time. You don’t realise at the time how close members of a group become. You have to learn to trust each other, at least to keep their part of the group going, be it drums, vocals, bass or guitar.

So we sacked him. His dad was livid after just buying all that equipment. What could we do? So, in one of those ironic twists that you wouldn’t believe if you saw it on TV or read it in a novel; we invited Ian Foster to play bass. He accepted, and then asked Bisch if he could borrow his equipment! Only a teenage could be that sensitive.

Just to complete the Bisch part of the story, some time later he had a motorbike accident with a lorry in Cowplain (thanks Prof), I thought it was in Fratton by St Mary’s church but hey the result was the same, the young man died.

I think we can only have had one practice with Ian. If memory serves, that was the night before the gig and at Prof’s house. I can still remember it being a really great practice. We all left positive, motivated and scared.

The day of the gig arrived. We arrived, set up, found that there was only one electric socket on the wall and then had to plug multi adaptor into multi adaptor.

The equipment:

Prof: Olympic by Premier drums, sparkling gold.

Pete: My Columbus Gibson SG copy guitar into a borrowed (from Bill Swadling?) Sound City amp which was purple

Mitch: Pete’s Top Twenty Fender copy guitar into the Sound City

Ian: Bass guitar from I dunno where into a practice amp mic’d up into the Sound City

Me: my mic into a Hi Fi amp and into some big 12” Goodman’s as a PA.

Pete recorded the whole thing on a reel to reel Teleton (I bet he still has it the recorder not the recording). Bubbling with excitement and nerves, we started. Within 20 minutes, we had done all the songs we had. So, we did them again. Then we did them again, and again. I think we only had about 7 songs, not sure. Some people were actually dancing at one point. Then, we took a break.

During the break, the Young Socialists took over the mic and the guy did a bit of a speech which Ian punctuated with noises from his bass guitar. It was funny but I guess you had to be there. After the break, we came back and did them again. I think we did Down Down just for a change and Mitch came in too early and spoilt Pete’s solo part. Then I think Ian did vocals on yet another version of Paper Plane. Then it was over.

Post-gig blues can be quite bad and I seem to remember that we didn’t see each other for some time after and when we did, it wasn’t the same. Our ‘Let It Be’ period, if you like.

No use raking through that particular mess as it would just detract from the fun, excitement and exhilaration of four (although five really) teenagers having fun in each others company and playing music together- or almost together! (is that too schmaltzy as an ending?)

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Oh, what a night (3rd January 2002)

Well, what an evening! It started off at 7pm I went to pick her up at her house and then we went out to the Robin Hood, my choice, as there were no other ideas forthcoming. I bought the drinks and we sat at a table.

Everything was strained and we talked intermittently. Then she wanted to formalise my seeing James, something that I had wanted but never got.

Events took a downturn from then. I stayed calm and let her rant and boy did she rant. I wanted to go, this was after about 30mins. She smoked, lots.

Against my better judgment, I bought some more drinks. She continued to rant, one was ‘I hope you die of a heart attack tomorrow’.

In the end I decided to go and she followed and kept the pressure up. Whilst in the car, she started hitting me, which wasn’t a problem till she whacked me, really quite hard on the side of my head.

I stopped the car and told her to have it and I walked off, sure that I wasn’t going back. Then I realised that my front door key was on the bunch I left in the ignition.

Dammit! This doesn’t happen in the movies! I drove back to her house and then she really let rip!

She then tried to strangle me with my seat belt. I got loose and out of the car and started to walk off, she got out and shouted at me and then went indoors.

0 notes

severingt · 11 months ago

Text

Being Maltese means….

Just got this as an e-mail...can it be true???

* You move abroad with 2 kgs of frozen pastizzi or Hobz Malti and a Timpana recipe in your luggage

* You move out from your parents house.......to move in with your spouse...within walking distance of your parents' house

* You have been officially engaged longer than you have been dating............while waiting for your house to be built

* You have been separated longer than you have been married........while sleeping under the same roof

* Your best friend lives 2 blocks away, but you only drive there

* The difference between the before and after pictures of your Mum's wedding, is about 5 stone

* The only way to decorate your escorts, capris and trucks is to stick banners across the windscreen such as 'rambo sex' or 'baby think twice', bumper sticker tend to be 'Eat my Dust'

* Zebra crossings are a matter of opinion

* Give Way translates to Get out of my Way

* Stop sign is in fact Give Way

* No Waiting, Unloading Only, NO parking, actually mean Parking at your convenience

* You don't even turn off your mobile phone in church (even if you are a priest)

* You think the north is entirely culturally different from the south....with the total geographical area being 18miles long, Gozo is considered another country

* You think the only places to visit abroad are 'Oxford Street', Lourdes and the Vatican

* Big Ben is in Birkirkara and not in London

* you go to church every Sunday even though you're atheist

* you get married in church so that your in-laws would not know you're an atheist

* you care more about what the neighbours think, then about your own opinion

* you are an independent adult, but your mum still buys your underpants and does your washing.

* Catholic shrines and posters of Elvis and Rambo jostle for space on public transport

* The cry 'Aw sex!' is seen as a legitimate chat-up line (Variation in Gozo tends to be 'Aw Gobon'...no pun intended)

* Before marriage, sex is a taboo and parents expect their kids to have never engaged in sex. However if you're not pregnant by the end of your honeymoon, your grandmother (and parents) starts saying special prayers.

* You strike bargains with the Almighty in order to achieve your ends.

* You call your children Denzel, Shania, Aaliyah and Rihanna... even though you have no connections with the film industry... (these names were amongst the most popular names in 2007 making it to the top 20)

* Your idea of eating out is going to the Diner in the Airport Viewing Gallery or to Serkin in Rabat for pastizzi and tea.

* You go to Catechism classes to pick up girls

* You disagree profoundly with your chosen political party's policies, but vote for them anyway, cos that's what your father did, and your grandfather, and his father...... anyway you still invite your local MP for your wedding as it will impress your guests * You don't believe in bribes but in gratitude

* At home you have 'Teachers', 'Vermouth' and perhaps 'Shandy'

* Your parents used to dip the pacifier in Whisky so that you sleep during parties

* Your parents' favourite brand used to be GM as anything from toilet paper to towels used to have this logo (Not 'General Motors' but 'Gvern ta' Malta')

* You go to other people's weddings in order to criticise the wedding souvenirs and the food.

* You send your children to private lessons even though they are the top of their class

* You are not a rascist but open minded except if your kid turns up to be gay or decides to marry an African or Arab person.

0 notes