Extremely saddened today to hear of the passing of Gianluca Vialli, aged 58.
During his illustrious career, Gianluca spent a couple of years at Chelsea. One game in particular sticks in my mind; though many of the reasons why are a bit bizarre.
It was a F.A. Cup match at Stamford Bridge on the 4th January, 1998; just two days over being 25 years to the day of writing this.
(Image shows Gianluca Vialli and Ricardo Rocha, Italy vs Brazil, 1989, licensing information here.)
Being pulled back in time and down into the London Underground when reviewing Ian Arkley’s two led not only to a couple of memories being stirred, but more so the discovery of a little known unsavoury World War II fact involving Winston Churchill.
A poem written in November 2020, prompted by what exactly I can’t remember; there is truth to a degree in the words, and while this matters not to the reader, a need to expand on the actual facts took hold, from which followed a jaunt across the tobacco industry, teachers always being a-holes, a picture of my favourite gate, cheap snacks, Big Foot, how I used to live in the Lord of the Rings, laughing at my mum (sorry, mum), a real size but pretend Canadian Parliament, the world’s first dinosaur statues, and London’s most popular gorilla.
A recent conversation about what can be donated to homeless charities prompted the memory that inspired this list of terrible smells.
Flags and why the British one so often drives me nuts.
(in which many misconceptions from both sides of the pond will be utterly destroyed!): Continue reading
The following is an account of true events: the names of those involved have been changed (including the dog’s).
My introduction to the Great Edgar Broughton started in a pub said to have once been frequented by highwayman Dick Turpin.
Aged fourteen, me and a couple of mates found we could get served in the Schooner, located—though no longer there—where Streatham High Road meets Hermitage Lane.
Re July 1st with mention of one event taking place previously:
Neighbour knocked on front door earlier, thought I was M. Offer to go get M, but no, want message relayed. They aren’t social distancing from door, which I already have Continue reading
The story of how I found out one of the U.K.’s greatest recording studio’s best kept secrets; something any music tourist would probably prefer not know. Continue reading
N. P. Ryan 