Archive | nostalgia RSS for this section

Father’s Day – Bladerunner, Summer Holidays and Suicidal Sheep

 

19397152_10154547019987761_2652242732964222320_n

So, it’s Father’s Day once again. That’s a photo of me and my dad back in the day. Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s smoking a cigarette right next to me. You have to bear in mind that this photo was taken in 1977. Only vegans and yoga teachers gave a fuck about that sort of thing back then. He did look after me, I promise. Read More…

Advertisements

Teenage Mutant Ninja Hurdles – How Martial Arts Have Taught Me Persistence Pays And Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

Back in 1983, when I was 14, I started practising martial arts. Like many people who become martial artists, I started off with karate. Shotokan karate, to be precise. And like many people who start fight training, I became absolutely obsessed with it. Here is a photo of me taken at Christmas that year: Read More…

I Come From A Little Town You’ve Probably Never Heard Of – How My Only Meaningful Dream Is Actually Just One Big Joke

screenshot-2015-02-26-20-28-31

A few years ago, I went to get some talk therapy. The therapist asked me to keep a dream diary. I did warn her that this was probably a waste of time. My dreams very rarely have any structure. When my slumbering brain talks to me, it’s like an over excited five year old boy trying to tell his mum about a particularly great day he’s had at school. There lots of : “And then, and then, and then, and then…” but with very little actual information being imparted. Read More…

The Black Dragon – Fakes, Frauds and Kentucky Fried Chicken

count_dante_john_timothy_keehan

That is a photo of one of my childhood heroes. Count Juan Raphael Dante. Martial arts master, founder of The Black Dragon Fighting Society, voodoo priest and alleged bank robber. He came to fame in the 1960s by posting adverts like this in the back of American comic books : Read More…

Context – Why Charity Can’t Be An Excuse For Everything And Not All Uniforms Are Sexy

syfpn

One Friday afternoon, when I was in Sixth Form, me and my friend Shane abandoned our usual lessons, put on our Ku Klux Klan uniforms and ran around the streets demanding money. I realise that sounds a teeny bit racist and possibly a trifle thuggish, so please allow me to explain myself. There was a good reason for our little afternoon outing. Read More…

You Can’t Always Get What You Want – How To Turn The Tartan Trousers Of Disappointment Into The Shark Attack Of Happiness

10400934_39106587760_8379_n

That’s a photo of me at my big brother’s wedding. I am not the tall fella on the left and nor am I the bearded chap in the middle. I’m the one in the tartan trousers. The bearded chap with his hands on my shoulders is my big brother, Paul. Read More…

The Magic Cooking Pot – How To Make Happy Memories With Lots Of Time But Very Little Money

oval-cooking-pot-with-lid-1l-392-p

 When I was a kid, around about this time of year, there was one little treat I used to look forward to more than anything else. I always knew this treat was coming because my mum would wash out The Big Black Cooking Pot. It looked a bit like the one in that picture, but a lot less fancy and a hell of a lot more battered. It must have held a good couple of gallons and you had to put it across two gas rings to use it. And The Big Black Cooking Pot being washed out could mean only one thing. Home-made soup. Read More…

Passion, Poetry and Hot Chocolate With Marshmallows – How To Star In Your Very Own Hollywood Movie

39fdcc593ea048e044e0d2c205d4de48

Winter Is Coming. For most people, that’s just a tagline from “Game Of Thrones”. An internet meme with Sean Bean holding a sword on a windswept hillside, usually involving some sort of joke. For other people, like me, “Winter Is Coming” is not a joke, it is an actual warning. Something to be genuinely concerned about. Read More…

Jackie Paper Isn’t Dead – How Rolf Harris Can Tell You If You Are Sad And Puff The Magic Dragon Got A Very Raw Deal

jimmy-savile

That’s Jimmy Savile. The most prolific sex offender to stalk the corridors of the BBC. And that was up against some pretty stiff competition, as Operation Yewtree has repeatedly revealed. For the last four years, I have had my fingers crossed, repeating the mantra “Please not Johnny Ball. Please not Johnny Ball. Please not Johnny Ball.” The entire edifice of my happy Seventies childhood would fall down about my ears if any terrible revelations about Johnny Ball came to light. Nothing so far, thank goodness. Read More…

The Hole In The Wall – How You Shouldn’t Annoy Farmers And Why It Is Unwise To Pay Attention To Thoughts You Have At Three In The Morning

121823-apaches-0-230-0-345-crop

When I was in my early twenties, I became terrified of a door. It wasn’t one of those spooky, haunted doors you used to get in Hammer Horror films. It was a perfectly ordinary, perfectly functional door. But this door scared me more than any portal to a room full of ghosts or monsters ever could. Read More…