I miss part 2.....

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they're real I've been living so long with my pictures of you that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as I ran to your heart to be near and we kissed as the sky fell in holding you close how I always held close in your fear remembering you running soft through the night you were bigger brighter and whiter than snow and screamed at the make-believe screamed at the sky and you finally found all your courage to let it all go Remembering you falling into my arms crying for the death of you heart you were stone white so delicate so lost in the cold you were always so lost in the dark Remembering you how you used to be so drowned you were angels so much more than everything oh hold for the last time then slip away quietly open my eyes but I never see anything If only I'd thought of the right words I could have held onto your heart if only I'd thought of the right words I wouldn't be breaking apart all my pictures of you Looking so long at these pictures of you never hold onto your heart looking so long for the words to be true but always just breaking apart my pictures of you There is nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to never feel the breaking apart of my pictures of you

I miss part one.....

I miss my Uni days, the careless innocence of it all. The greatest days of my life?

The love, the growing up, the first attempt of making a success of adult life....

The Cure, leather jackets, bad hash, good hash, cherry roll ups, cherry Docs, Ashby Road (pictured), the most beautiful art students, stripey leggings, sex, sex, LOVE, MAJOR LOVE, Guinness, The Paget Arms, crap bikes, going to bed 48 hours after getting up, pots of tea, CONVERSATION, train journeys, young persons railcards, kit bags, Grebos, funky dreads, piercings, band t shirts, the left legged pineapple (music store), RAG week, music journalism (bad, very bad), Harry French Court, writing letters, writing essays, librarys, missing lectures, food fights, Home and Away (?!) The Wonderstuff, Neds Atomic Dustbin, Pop Will Eat Itself, black jumpers with holes, crap cookery, depression, cold nights, The Smiths, The Cure The Cure The Cure.....

The very happiest of memories...... Loughborough Uni 1991-1994

Why Manchester Matters.

To me Manchester is the most wonderful place, with the most wonderful people in the world...

I just don't want to live there anymore.

That might sound strange but for all of its magnificent history, its welcoming, warm and open people and its vibrant culture it is a city, and all large industrial cities have a dark side. Some more than others.

Certainly in the years before I moved to Australia the dark side of Manchester was threatening to squash the very life out of me... That of course is another story.

But what a place, what a city, what a bloody beautiful place to grow up in the Nineties.

Lets start with the people, of course I class myself as a Manc, always will and am fiercely proud of my birthplace.

Mancs are humble, decent people, working class stock at its very best. Even the disgusting values of Thatchers Britain couldn't break the spirit of the close knit Manc communities in the Eighties. While other Northern communities were destroyed and divided beyond repair the socialist values that made Manchester the cultural powerhouse it is today stood tall and were counted.

The people of Manchester have an attitude to life and a way of doing things all of their own. We’re an easy, self-deprecating lot with a wicked sense of humour and an appetite for adventure (and a party). But don’t be fooled: behind that engaging, easy-going exterior there lies ambition and desire for change.

You’ll find Mancunians go out of their way to talk to you, to help you, and to give you a friendly welcome to their city. Id like to think that I have now translated those Manc character traits to my life in Perth. We are rightly proud of what our city has to offer and happy to share what we know. Mancunians have edge and attitude, industry and innovation.

We’re bold, progressive, ambitious and entrepreneurial. We like to get things done: the first working canal, the first public library, the first computer with a stored memory, the first split atom, the first test tube baby…

Manchester in the late 80's and early 90's was quite simply a magnificent hedonistic place to be. The whole city was alive with a cultural buzz. Music, art, fashion, at times it seemed as if the whole world wanted a part of us/to be us.

And why not, we had the clubs, the bands, the DJs, the drugs and above all the attitude. And what an attitude, the brash swagger, the edgy walk, all essential parts of survival growing up in a grey, cold, damp, Northern town.

And look all this and I havent mentioned even one band.... That of course will come another day.

"What Manchester does today, the rest of the world does tomorrow."

Happiness Is Best Shared....

I was asked this week whether I was happy or not?
Its been something that I have been thinking about all week to be honest, and it is only know Im more certain of my answer.

I'm not unhappy on a daily basis, I don't think I'm depressed either. I think unfulfilled is a more accurate description. I guess most people thought everything would be mapped out by their mid thirties, I know I did.

I think back to my first proper relationship and remember the way I was and we were with a fondness. I hadn't been deceived, hurt, or cynicised by love at this point. We didn't talk about marriage or children because it was almost a natural progression that we both knew would happen. Of course we didn't make it, but that's a different story.
I know I was close though.... So close...
What I'm trying to say is that I believed I would have a family to come home too pretty early in life. It was what I wanted. Success, money, career driven madness never crossed my mind, and they still don't. I don't care about mortgages, bank account balances, about swimming pools and cars. I care about belonging, about sharing my words, about making dreams true with a special person.

The pursuit of happiness has been an adventure at least. From Manchester, to Zurich, to Ireland, and to Australia. I could never be accused of not giving everything my best shot! I can hold my hand on my heart and state no regrets as well. I have been fortunate to connect so well with a a number of people, and some can never say that. I can also say that for the most of times I have also been happy in these relationships. But of course the fact that none of them worked out still leaves me unfulfilled.

Today I watched the movie of one of my favourite books of all time. I first read the book in the late Nineties, I can even remember where I was when I read it. I picked up a torn and dirty copy of a book called 'Into the Wild' by Jon Krakauer. The book had been left behind in a backpackers hostel in Broome, Western Australia. For the next 2 days I sat on the beach and read, re-read a stunning adventure story. The book tells the story (I strongly reccomend it by the way) of Chris McCandless, I won't describe it, just quote the front cover. It will give you an idea..

"In April 1992 a young man from a well to do family hitchhiked to Alaska and walked alone into the wilderness north of Mt. McKinley. His name was Christopher Johnson McCandless. He had given $25,000 in savings to charity, abandoned his car and most of his possessions, burned all the cash in his wallet, and invented a new life for himself. Four months later his decomposed body was found by a moose hunter." Jon Krakauer.

The book is a moving, uplifting study of how one young man struggled to deal with his demons, with his aversion to a fast food society, and with his underlying need to feel close to nature. It was only a small gesture but after reading and discussing the book I found myself in Darwin. Instead of spending $500 on a tourist trip across the Kakadu National Park, I hitched out to a protest camp to join a group of people demonstrating against the building of a Uranium Mine on Aboriginal Land. It was an enthralling two weeks, I spent hours talking to an eclectic group of people. The people of Jabiluka townsite (near the proposed mine site) treated the protestors appallingly, refusing to serve them in their town shop, and banning them from using any facilities. To cut a long story short, I felt I had done the memory of Chris some justice with this gesture. It was certainly the reading of the book that inspired me to do something slightly different. I have also always tried to pass on copies of the book to people I like.... (couldn't find it in the bloody bookshop this week)
I still have my dog-eared original copy, and value it very highly.

During the book Chris is described many times as being contented and happy with his lonesome existence.

''Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth. ''

''Society, man! You know, society! Cause, you know what I don't understand? I don't understand why people, why every fucking person is so bad to each other so fucking often. It doesn't make sense to me. Judgment. Control. All that, the whole spectrum.''

''Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Escaped from Atlanta. Thou shalt not return, 'cause "the West is the best." And now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the Great White North. No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild.''

Whilst reading I couldn't help but identify with his thoughts, his characer traits and foibles. The story has no happy ending (actually the ending of the story is at the start of the book) but Chris realises that despite all his adventures, inspite of all his previous thoughts that true happiness is found when shared with someone. With someone who cares, who respects, and understands....

And thats what I want.

If I have travel to all corners of the globe three times over I will do it, I just might seem abit frustrated sometimes whilst im looking.

And do you know what, Im happy Ive said that....

RIP Chris McCandless

The housesitter from hell.....

Now I should point out that although i'm a decent, well meaning sort of bloke I am prone to the odd disater or two!

Reliable, yes,

Trustworthy, yes.

Honest, yes.

Complete and utter muppet! Yes

So with me not being a home owner and a lover of animals I often get asked to look after other people's places when they go away. Ive never had wild parties, and i've never disrespected anyone's property, but man if it can go wrong it has!

This all started about 6 years ago. Some Swedish friends of mine decided to go round the world for 6 months, and I was given the keys to their beautiful house. My only job was to make sure their beloved cat was well looked after. Now I love cats, and they seem to like me, so this didn't seem to be a problem at all...

It was a great 6 months, I loved their house and the cat "Fison'' was a darling. Two days before they came back it was the Football World Cup Final. I was sensible, didn't go out with all my friends but decided to stay in and watch on the television at the house. To enhance the World Cup experience I have to admit to smoking a rather large continental ciggy (it was 6 years ago) The match came and went with me descending into the couch happily. I had to be up early the next day, so I made the decision to have a bath before I went to bed - more time under the covers in the morning!

But...... I fell asleep in the bath (doh!) and was woken up by the Fison clawing my arm which was dangling over the side of the bathtub. Shit whats that smell I thought. B*llocks, it's smoke!Rather comical I must have looked as I ran from the bath drenched and naked into the lounge room. The candle I had lit during the game had burnt down and set fire to the coffee table which was by now fully ablaze! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh f***********ck!

I did manage to distinguish the fire but the coffee table was ruined, but Fison had saved the house atleast! That would have been tough to explain. Instead I just had a very expensive shopping trip the next day. Needless to say I don't light candles anymore!

Last year I was asked to look after 2 great dogs by some teacher friends of mine. It was a particular hot spell in Perth, and I religiously made sure the garden was watered, none of the plants died, the dogs were fine, and the filter of their pond was clean. Now for some reason one morning I went outside to be hit by the summer heat full in the face. This time it was joined by an unbelievable stench! I couldn't work out for the life of me what the smell was... I went back inside and let the dogs out. It was feeding time at the zoo, and as I was in the kitchen putting the food out the dogs joined me. Nothing strange there at all until. SPLAT! The younger of the dogs deposited a very dead, magnificent looking fish at my feet. The smell was undescribable...

Shit I thought, what the hells the dog doing getting in the pond killing the fish? I walked upto the back of the garden to be confronted by the chainsaw massacre of fish.....

Every single fish in the pond was dead, and floating on the surface. Atleast I now knew what the smell was, but how if happened I never found out. I had done everything I was told by the house owners. Bad luck or the curse of the Rodgers house sit!

Atleast I was asked back to that place (can't have been my fault surely) and the second time I stayed I was pleased to see the pond had been filled in! By now it was winter and the weather was awful. So bad that the dogs refused to do anything else but sleep with me in the master bedroom. Fair enough I thought, if only I had known.....

Now one of the dogs (the same younger one) was alittle disturbed by the absence of her owners and I think had a kind of seperation anxiety. She would follow me everywhere, and at all times of the day and night. One night I woke up in the middle of the night and needed the loo. Of course the dog followed me. Now I was dozy and half asleep and when I walked back into the bedroom I didn't see the dog next to me (I hadn't turned the lights on) I tripped over the dog and fell towards the wall. It was an old weatherboard house and of course my natural reaction was to twist my body and try to stop myself from falling! I did stop the fall but also managed to place my arse clean through the bedroom wall! (old Aussie houses aren't too well made!)

Imagine the humiliation of calling the builders into replace a 'buttcheeks' shaped hole in a wall. Well I made their day im sure, but atleast the owners never saw it though....

Last night I finished my latest housesitting venture. My wonderful friends Scott and Hazel had been on honeymoon, and asked me look after their two King Charles Spaniels, Sadie and Mini.

The first 6 days were grim..... Unknown to Scotty and Haze Mini had started her dog periods. I ran around the house constantly mopping up after her, desperate to save the carpets and furniture of my friends from the mess left behind.

If I dont mind saying so I did a magnificent job, and felt a happy man last night when I was due to pick them up at 11ish from the airport.

At 8ish I went outside for one last 'Poo Patrol', I wanted the place to be perfect when they came back. Sadie and Mini hassle you when you are cleaning so I shut them in the house. CLICK went the door, not heard that noise before I thought. Yep you guessed it 3 hours before they were due home I had locked myself out of the house!

Now im no idiot so I managed to squeeze myself half way through the dog door and undo the bolts on the back of the flap. Only three would come loose though, and I had to rip the dog door off to get back into the house... Then I managed to get myself stuck half way through the door! What a nightmare...

So the honeymooners came back to a huge hole in their backdoor where the dog flap used to sit. Nice look. Another expensive shopping trip today, and the problem is solved!

No animals were harmed in the making of this blogpost (apart from the fish)

Anyone needs their house looking after? I'm your man!

Trigg Thinking...

I always knew I would end up living near the sea....

It may have been the monotony of life in a concrete jungle with no space, or room to breathe. It may have been the happiness I always felt enveloping me during visits to the seaside when I was a child...

Ten years ago I found my place when I arrived in Perth. My first day in Australia was spent at a place probably classed as an average Perth beach, City Beach. But I dont think I will ever forget the surge of life I felt feeling the warmth of the sand beneath my toes. I was dazzled by the blueness of the environment, the sea and sky totally memorised me. Even then Im sure I knew deep down that this would become my home. City Beach itself might not be the most special in the world, but to me that day it seemed as perfect as can be. Since then of course I have seen many other Australian beaches, from the beauty of Broome to the rugged unforgiving isolation of Tasmania, and the majesty of Margaret River.

Today was an Autumnal Perth day, not warm at all but it was still a great day to sit at the beach. Is there ever a day when it isn't! I went to Trigg Beach (pictured) for a picnic and a chat with a friend. We sat and talked and ate, and talked and ate some more. I thought and thought, and thought some more. One of the points being made too me was that maybe I think far too much about lots of things. I agreed and added that I also didn't think about other things enough. Hmmmm, I guess it was just one of those days, as it is one I will remember always....

Why? Well basically I couldn't answer many of the questions I was asked today. Maybe with thought I will be able too, but put on the spot (a necessity for all of us sometimes) I literally didn't know the answers to the points that were being made. Now Im not proud of that, but Im not going to beat myself up about it either. Several times I was close to tears, as my mind wirred and lept around trying to make some sense of well my 'senses'. And yes I did really need a hug. I couldn't even ask for that...

Several hours later though I remembered something important...

I remembered the way I felt so alive that first day in Australia.

I remembered the way it felt so natural playing cricket in the surf in Margaret River with my brother when he came to visit.

I remembered the way I felt eating ice cream whilst paddling with my Mum in Cottesloe in 2001.

I realised that much of what was said too me today was so very very true, and Im glad it was pointed out with such clarity and wisdom.... Sometimes you so need someone to do that....

I will spend more time at the beach......

The making of a good compilation CD...

Now ever since I got my first tape player I have enjoyed the making of a good compilation. Remember the days of hitting RECORD and STOP and PAUSE during the Top 40 on Sunday nights, well that was me, every week...
Like most kids I knew we didn’t have the money to pay the 79p for a 7'' single or however much it was back then. Albums no chance, the pocket money didn't stretch further than the football on Saturday. So I started making my tapes…
My memory tells me I made many a great tape (reality would of course be different! )
But I found one of the first ones when I went home for Christmas last year. The dusty busted old TDK had a collection of New Wave classics, Duran Duran, Visage, OMD, and the Human League on it. Better still, it still played, and I could still hear the noise my first tape player made as I raced to hit pause before the DJ’s voice came on.
Then things evolved slightly, I was given a battered old stereo where I could record tape to tape, off the radio, and off LP and Single. What a luxury, and of course this was where the scamming and borrowing started as I compiled collection after collection. I still remember going to the library to get out and record (Sorry Simon and the boys, few lost royalties there!) Duran Duran ‘Seven and the Ragged Tiger’. I waited for it for weeks, and was really keen.
That was when I first found my real love for music. The excellent collection at Stockport Library meant I was free to discover Pink Floyd, David Bowie, Joy Division, Bob Dylan, The Clash and The Cure amongst others.
It also lead to a change in friends as my clothing style became, well basically black! What else was cooler. Black skintight Levis, black desert boots and a donkey jacket with tartan inside… I wont mention the hairstyles. Best left there in the late 80’s!
During my teenage years me and my friends would scrimp and save every summer to go on holiday. One of the most important moments of the holiday was the official playing of everyone’s ‘Holiday Tape’. I would religiously prepare the 'holiday' tape, trying to out do my friends with originality/quality of choice/coolness of playlist! If we found any of them now they would probably be terrible!
As a natural progression for a music freak I found the joy of making a tape for 'someone'.
Tapes for mates going away, tapes of Manchester bands, tapes of tunes we had heard at the Hacienda, tapes for loves, and lovers. For these in particular I would spend literally hours trying to put the right song in the right place, and the right time!
A killer to start off with, a well known follow up to keep the interest, that cool song you had heard once but never again third and so on, and so on.

Whilst at University I read 'High Fidelity' by Nick Hornby. And I got it, I really got it. I believed that the lead character was scary like me.

"Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all, you 're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing."
Rob - High Fidelity by Nick Hornby.

I laughed myself silly when I saw the movie... And then smiled because I realised that what I enjoyed doing was perfectly normal... Lets face it who hasn’t loved atleast one tape/CD that has been made for them in their lifetime.
These days of course things are very different. Laptops, burners, mixers, IPODS, downloads and the like.
Me, I still prefer to spread out my CDS across the lounge floor and spend an evening or two carefully selecting songs I love. Music put together designed to express whatever message I am trying to get across with the compilation.
Tonight is a first though, I am going to do something I have never done before. Im going to make a CD to match the writing on a blog. Not just any blog, but a 'real' blog, by a 'real' person. One difference though, unlike many of my past compilations there will be no hidden meanings, just a simple message that says “I understand.....”

Compilation makers of the world I salute you.....