What came first: internet porn, or screen wipes?
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Category Archives: 2004
Site update to Myndzone 2004
Curses.
My attempt at getting the site W3C (HTML 4.01 transitional) compliant has not been a complete success. There has been much to resolve. Theoryzone is now alive again, but is virtually unchanged from the original. If anyone who knows about these things could tell me how to make it HTML4.01 compliant whilst retaining the frameset, I would be most grateful. At some stage I am going to rewrite the content for this section, but the more immediate priority is to fix these problems and to upload rather a lot of poetry.
The picture of the Charles Bridge that appeared in the Blog is currently missing, as I deleted it by mistake. Oops. It will appear, when I’ve tracked down the original. Photos are all currently hosted on the dot mac account. This will have to remain the case, as I don’t have sufficient bandwidth here – but of course, in the longer term, I shall just use the mac space as a picture server, and the albums themselves will be fully integrated on the photozone section of this site.
We normally tried to get the end breaker, by the car park and with the view down the stretch of beach leading up to the steps by the railway. The space between the breakers was insulated from the wind, and the wooden structures, encrusted as they were with seaweed, barnacles and tar, gave a great frame for the foolhardy to play upon.
Along the prominade there were vans selling ice cream and steps over the concrete wall. Even – at one or two points – slip roads so that you could take a boat down to be launched. Or a 4×4, to get stuck in the sand.
The sand on this stretch wasn’t soft and golden, but a solid and always moist clump. Ideal for sand castles, whose moats could be filled from the sea before giving up their defences altogether to the impending tide.
Families would camp there for days, dissuaded only by the rain showers, when they were forced to relocate to the amusement arcades or the pub. The lights bathed the town with a neon glow, behind which, and back up into the hills, the more traditional victorian stone buildings could be seen, weathered and pastel.
Last known address
The phone doesn’t
ring
ring, ring s
e
the email c
b n
ou
and
u don’t txt
when
life, more real
gets in the way
School days
When they look at you
the eyes
burn into you
hypnotic
so you can do nothing but
look back
regressive, at
the closed off route
of escape
Amended 15 May 2005, 21 July 2014
“He’ll have to drive faster than that if he’s hoping she’ll fall out.”
The white Rover 800 ahead of them, which they’d been stuck behind for the last 20 minutes on the final approach to the town, continued at its painfully slow speed as the driver negotiated the roundabout. They caught a glimpse of the face of his passenger, a woman whose face had turned putrid green. An old man wearing a cloth cap was driving.
“Come on mate, its the pedal on the right.”
The occupants of the black Golf laughed.
“Do you think he’s off to sell her to a halloween mask factory?”
“Nice one Mike.”
He shrugged, reverting back to his normal, quieter self. The Golf followed on across the roundabout, in time to see the Rover speed up as it headed towards a pedestrian crossing.
She opened the door to the lounge, and stepped into his life.
Spent the weekend filming 19 year olds in gym slips and evening wear. What hard work! Although I don’t think I’ve ever worked an 18 1/2 hour day before.
My eyes were stapled open by the time I arrived back in this place on Sunday, after driving for about 6 hours.
For the first time in an age, I encountered a hitch hiker, and would have given him and his large knife a lift, if it wasn’t for the fact that I was going in exactly the opposite direction. As it was, I had to make do with my own company.
It was strange on the way down. I called in to see a friend in Bristol, and discovered by chance that she lives about 200 yards from a house I stayed in, in 1991, before and after my first Glastonbury. The occupant who I knew hasn’t spoken to me for about 8 years, for reasons I never found out, and I decided that turning up unannounced could then warrent a call from the police (as, I suppose, would wishing a happy birthday in a couple of weeks). A shame, but even though you can recognise the waste, you have to move on. I’d got lost trying to find where I was going, and found myself outside a pub that I remembered from back then.
The week itself was a challenge, but was fun. We had a great team, and a great laugh, and I’ll see them all again.
But the 6 hour drive back was tiring. When I got back I wrote a blog entry (2004-03-01) and tried to watch the Oscars. I was too tired, and eventually went to sleep.