I found out something the other day about one of my favourite songs that blew my mind: cheeky cockney duo Chas ‘n’ Dave were part of the backing band for Labi Siffre’s ‘I Got The…’. Continue reading
Author: N. P. Ryan
Where in the World
If one must insist on clichés, then at least have the common decency to be unique about it!
With thanks to NASA for use of the header image. Continue reading
Le Pew
I have a sensitive sense of smell apparently; perhaps alone enough to cement a hatred for overbearing odours. But with aftershaves and perfumes there’s the added aspect of what, especially when finding oneself in a room full of people wearing either abundantly, is implied by their garish and obnoxious presence. Continue reading
The Epitome of Entitlement
Poetry to ‘celebrate’ all the lovely profits being made by energy companies in the midst of the war in Ukraine and cost of living crisis. What profit is there in the misery of others? Apparently plenty. It speaks the greatest volumes known to humanity about what this idea capitalism really is. Continue reading
The Frog in the Throat of the Bloke on Speaker’s Corner
Elements of the following short story are based on true events. My dad took me so Speaker’s Corner when I was circa eight-years-old (1978-ish), and there I heard a man give a speech exactly along the lines of that described below.
In the unlikely event I ever end up with a pub or bar of some sort, ‘The Frog in the Throat of the Bloke on Speaker’s Corner’ is what I’ll name it; which reminds that I did used to frequent a place called ‘The Frog and Nightgown’ on the Old Kent Road, while sometimes before Chelsea games I’d pop in ‘The Ferret & Firkin in a Balloon Up The Creek Without a Paddle’ (said to be the longest pub name in the world at the time) on Lots Road.
Indeed, two Firkin franchise pubs were called the ‘Frog and Firkin’ (no relationship to the Nightgown).
My local was the ‘Phoenix and Firkin’, the old ticket office at Denmark Hill train station that had burned down before being turned into a pub. I quaffed many a pint of Dogbolter (brewed on the premises) there before the favoured drinking haunts of many got bought-out by a of corporate entity that wrecked them with arrogance and stupidity (such as no longer brewing Dogbolter) to the point of the franchise ceasing to exist bar (excuse the pun) a few names still being used, and even then only in part; such as ‘The Fleece’, Bristol–the first Firkin out of London and currently an integral part of Bristol’s live music scene–that today no longer uses the Firkin part on its name/branding.
While the below has nothing to do with pubs Firkin or otherwise, it does abound aplenty with corporate arrogance, greed and inanity.
With thanks to D. D. Buck^ for use of the header image. Continue reading
Winter Sun: The Big Bright Ball of Lie
Poetry without comment beyond thanks to Joni Tuohimaa for use of the header image. Continue reading
Dark Face at the Door
Watching TV with my mum over Christmas there was a programme on featuring some of the oldest buildings known in Scotland. Discussing them was Scottish comedian and historical tour guide Bruce Fummey, who is black; relevant, as when discussing old New Year traditions, he said he’d have been a very welcome visitor due to being so thanks to the tradition that the first person over the threshold once the New Year commenced should be of dark hue.
My grandfather—mum’s dad—was also from Scotland; my mum said she remembered this tradition from her childhood, which was in London (she being born there), predominately growing up in Dudley House, Paddington, the family having been lucky enough to be offered one of the council flats built in 1938. Continue reading
A Great Storm Cometh
Sometimes it can he hard to write an introduction when the intention of the words below is that they speak for themselves.
Suffice to say that the intention here is to start the reader at a point seemingly alien and somewhat unsettling, before then arriving them in a few short lines somewhere completely relatable.
And even that feels like saying too much!
When Debbie Sang to Angels
When recently writing a post about three of the songs Blondie covered, I included my experience of seeing Debbie Harry live; in the process discovering the somewhat unique circumstances in which I did are barely, if at all, mentioned anywhere on the internet. Continue reading
Plans, Trains and Lovers in Turmoil: the story of two
Two lovers part on bad terms with an agreement to meet in a year to see if they have a future. Both travel to the meeting on the London Underground, but one is delayed without any way of letting the other know.
Failing to arrive in time could be plenty enough to seal their fate. Do they make it and what caused the rift to begin is told in a sequence of poems from the two perspectives.
The poems originally formed the main body of a review for Ian Arkley’s album ‘two’, the music inspiring a poetic narration rooted in my experience of using the Underground before leaving London at the end of the last century; the tracks remain available in this post, also providing the name for each verse. Continue reading
N. P. Ryan 