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We are halfway through one of our regular drives from London to Wiltshire
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The summer of 1980 was an exciting time for me; I had turned sixteen
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Hawkwind, Stonehenge Festival, 1984. A dishevelled group of punks, hippies, bikers and Hells Angels are gathered in a Wiltshire field.
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The Devonshire seaside village of Westward Ho! is not only famous for being named after an imperialistic historical novel
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As a child I would sometimes stand in front the 70’s styled fireplace and gaze into the face of the wooden wind-up clock
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It’s 1985, it’s winter, I am 21 years old and living in a small cottage that I share with my brother and two friends.
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I once stood at the very end of a sun bleached pier.
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I sometimes have a dream, a recurring dream I suppose
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First the cold breeze on my face and then the nonsensical whispering in my ear.
