Look back in langour

Hi All – my old friend asked a few of the gang to chip in on his commendable blog, and though we’re risking a tower of Babel with a lot of differing views a couple of us have taken it up. A little background – I’m a scientist from a large English market town, which is to say hell. I wasn’t always a scientist, and I no longer live in hell, though I’m assured by many in my adopted country that hell is to be my final port of call. I was asked to give some perspective on things that can only be seen in detail from far away. If your eyeball is touching the ceiling, you’re probably not going to enjoy the Sistine Chapel. Turns out that achieving sufficient separation to get the space station view is more difficult than I thought, with each and every experience different for given observers. So I thought I’d loosely define this observer then take you where he’s been without drawing any conclusions, we’re all capable of that or we wouldn’t be bothered reading anything other than tabloids. I’d like to do this in three short snapshots – The beginning, the middle, and how I think it might end. And here’s the beginning.

It’s not in the blood, it’s in the mind.

It was at Ben’s house that I first learned I was subhuman. I was maybe seven years old. Ben and I had been friends for maybe a seventh of our lives, My people were always awkward when other kids played at my house but I thought that was just a space invasion thing. Many old school working class people were not big on having “strangers” (i.e. non family) in the house. What other reason for the hostility could there be?

It was at my friend’s house that I first felt condescension, and it felt bad. I can’t quite define how, but I knew they were better than me. It knotted up my stomach. Not that such a puckered up, tight assed bunch such as that family could ever have taken me for a ride. I was too smart. They talked in ciphers they thought above me . I grinned, took the patronizing “It’s probably time you went home now, your parents will be worried” as if it were a caring phrase and not the dismissal I knew it to be. I imagined them disinfecting him after I left.

I understood from that single phrase that they felt their son should have better friends, that I was an unfortunate toward whom they’d probably have felt charitable had I not been within touching distance of their life. But I was, and long before there was an unfriend button they pushed it. My it stung, and I never forgot it. It became pretty clear that Ben was told to stay away from me, that I was bad news.

This is the English class system in full effect. This is an often misunderstood mechanism of castes. There are millions of ‘untouchable’ sink estate kids, mostly white but speaking in Jamaican patois even though they’ve never been south of Mansfield. That’s cool, they’ve been betrayed by their parents, are disenfranchised at the lack of opportunity offered to them and believe they have nothing to lose. And then there are hundreds of thousands of old Etonians. These, the children of massive privilege, don’t rankle me either. The ones I’ve met have been truly grateful at their luck and realize but for accidents of birth it could all be very different. It’s those millions in the middle who possess that meso lack of grace. In my experience it’s this huge class of also-rans who drop the hammer at any given opportunity. These are the people who want to live in Chipping Norton and discuss “motor-sport” With Jeremy Clarkson.

How beastly is the bourgeois indeed.

This isn’t some chip-on-shoulder politics of envy thing. I was raised with the idea that it’s OK to make money, and if you can, to give as little away as possible in the way of taxes and look after number one – a born O.G. Conservative if you like. Raised by my grandparents, I’ll never forget the old man telling me about being smuggled out of France seven weeks after Dunkirk and being sent to the East End docks to load munitions. The dockers were striking for danger money, which the boys with their entrails frothing pink in the surf wouldn’t be getting. The returning soldiers broke the strike and he never paid a union due again.

All this to say, I couldn’t be more English. The nuances which come as accessories to the nationality have to be learned, and learned fast if you’re going to do anything. My expectations were painter and decorator at best. The poverty of ambition had to be experienced to be believed. Most of my family were staunch, sincere socialists (which didn’t stop them stealing enough building materials to add new wings to their newly acquired ex council houses) and growing up I kept my opinions and increasing political disaffection and apparent apathy to myself. Brand articulated part of what I felt quite well when he eviscerated the idiot Paxman a while ago.

A wonderful primary school teacher named Mr. Brooks at Gladstone lower school saw something in me that no one else did. I think that’s a talent of itself. That man helped shape my life. He showed me that things were out there for those who wanted to do them, demonstrated to me that I was smart enough to do most of those things and best of all, took me out of class to let me play with batteries and circuit diagrams all day. My first day at middle school put me in the class of a wonderful young woman who’s name escapes me, and I should be ashamed at this. The beautiful educator brought me books from her home library and let me read them in lessons. These deviant curricula again taught me so much that I shouldn’t have known at that age. Between these two marvelous teachers I got to read Animal Farm and Of Mice and Men years before these works were supposed to be accessible. In fact, my entire education passed without reference to Orwell, Steinbeck, Camus or Peter Benchley after that.

So I got more from two years of education between ages 9-11 than I gained until I entered the tertiary system aged 26. This was about the time I began to feel deeply disenfranchised, and I put everything I had in the middle and gambled. Colleagues at work would ask me “why are you doing your A levels now?” – a question which would never be asked in my adopted country. The derision and tacit hopes for flat failure were plain to see. There was no encouragement from anyone, anywhere, barring my far off parents, who I’m sure failed to see how I was going to get a chemistry degree after failing every ‘O’ Level I’d taken. I’m sure my marks would have been better in high school had I not set fire to the papers, or written “I love you” in answer to each question, even the essays.

I got to the party too late for a “free at the point of use” education but i did the research, found that chemistry grads had the best opportunities, I got that A level after two years of slogging up and down to Booth Lane college rain or shine after work. I enrolled at a new university on a chemistry HND program. worked my arse off and transferred to the second year of the four year degree program. Still, on going home I heard the laughter behind me, loudest from my family who felt that painter and decorator should have been my mark all along.

Still the smirking continued as I cleaned toilets, washed up at hospitals, emptied dog shit bins in the city parks and a host of other nefarious jobs in order to pay the rent and avoid the worst excesses of debt. Nuclear physics 2.2 at 3pm, cleaning Leicester City Council offices at 5. But things were changing. Some of the people I was working beside had the same kind of drive. They wanted something better, for themselves, for their children.

And we worked.

The day the final results were posted ranks up with the best of my life. I’d expected to scrape something, and began making deals with a god I didn’t believe in on my way up the stairs in the Victorian building housing the science faculty. There are no atheists in fox holes or at final exam notice boards. Careful not to bump in to anyone with my landscape gardening clothes muddy and wet I negotiated the crowds of people, hustling around the notice board like sailors trying to get a drink on their first landfall in a year. Eyes all over, scanning for your name.

2:i, BSc (hons) Chemistry

I had bought my ticket. Now it was down to the lottery,

After a happy (though though less than financially rewarding) couple of years in my first real job I learned to allow my energy free reign while withholding many of the negatives which usually accompany that kind of scattershot vim. This was noted by people I didn’t know were noting things, and I managed to gain a reputation as a prolific, if easily distracted,, researcher.

My career progressed as a spectroscopist (my particular specialty in physical chemistry) and once a reputation begins to snowball it’s difficult to stop. So when I found myself homeless and unemployed due to a failed gamble on a job in Italy all the old fears returned. The voices.

You really thought this would work?

You’re trying to be something you’re not.

You’ve been sussed.

You’re just another punter

But that’s not the truth. The truth is that sometimes you really do have to stoop down and rebuild your life’s work with worn out tools. I lived on a friend’s sofa for 3 months, chasing down job after job after job, No dice. But despite the disadvantages inherent in my position I had an ace in the hole, and it was a big one.

America.

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The Next Big Thing

Next Big Thing

The following ten questions (and my stab at answering them) form part of The Next Big Thing. If you don’t know what this is, it’s simply an opportunity to tell the world about your current writing project. And when you’ve finished answering the ten questions below you get to tag other people, who do the same.

Its my turn to answer and then tag three other writing friends – so advance apologies to Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali.

I was tagged by Richard Lakin. Richard is a tremendous writer with a love of pugilism and rail travel. You can check out Richard’s knock out work Richard Lakin

So, Garrie, what’s your next big thing?

I’m just putting the finishing touches to a short story I’m sending to the BBC’s Writers Room as part of their Opening Lines competition, it has to be in by Friday so I really shouldn’t be doing this now. Prior to that I sent a short story off to Cinnamon Press and another to the Stroke Association for their celebratory publication around the theme of 20 as they’ve been around for, yes, you guessed it, twenty years. I just had two poems published in the Offa’s Press anthology, ‘We’re All In This Together’ and I’ve another in the Earth Love anthology this Spring. Twisted between all this are bursts of keyboard activity as I try to finish my novel.

20121214-161656.jpg

1) What is the working title of your book?

The book has had a number of titles since I started it including, Here Come the Lobsters, (the very title of this blog) Spoon Squad and currently Going Underground. Going Underground was a reference to the classic Jam song but also a reference to a series of tunnels that had a prime position in the narrative. I’ve since filled in the tunnels so the title could change again.

2) Where did the idea come from for the book?

It came from me head! Like, straight out from between me ears and onto the page. Ugh, that sounds messy which is apt as it came from what can be a messy profession. In the early 90’s I was working in a care home in Northampton, my home town. It was a real eye opener. Not just because of the people that lived there, who were challenging, frightening and wonderful but also because of the people who worked with them. I worked in a number of places during the 90’s in Northampton and Birmingham but it was the thought of setting something in my home town that dealt with these people that live on the edges of society that really excited me.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

I’m not sure. Its dark with light touches of humour and very urban. Literary fiction sounds a bit pompous to me. It’s just a cracking tale of unrequited love, with psychotic Polish gangsters and large doses of piss stained laundry thrown in for good measure. I find genres quite hard to pin down sometimes and not altogether useful. I’ve just finished Kevin Barry’s City of Bohane, which is set in the near future in a fictional west coast Irish city. Now you might class it as science fiction but your average sci-fi enthusiast wouldn’t be best pleased if they took it home (no spaceships or gadgetry,) or you could call it speculative fiction, but it could just as easily be called historical fiction (this makes sense if you’ve read it.) I think I’d best get it finished first before I start worrying about genres.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

There are three main characters: Miles who’s in his early twenties and struggling with being unemployable as a photographer despite four years of studying; Sophia, a gorgeous Polish volunteer trying to lay her grandfather’s ghost to rest and Vince a twisted mass of muscle and hatred trying to kill his past. Miles would be played by Robert Sheehan of Misfits and Red Riding fame as he has emotional depth, gobbyness and isn’t too pretty. I’d have Jelka van Houten play Sophia, she’s possibly not young enough but I thought she was marvellous in Channel 4’s Fresh Meat. You’d need a very physical actor to play Vince, someone with a brutal physique ( or the ability to bulk up ) and commanding voice, with that in mind I’d go for Tom Hardy from this summer’s The Dark Knight Rises, you’d never think he was the same guy who started out in Band of Brothers.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

High Fidelity meets Shallow Grave. No, that’s the elevator pitch. Let’s see. Spencer House is home to the broken souls that slip through the cracks; the troubled, the violent, but they shouldn’t worry you; the people who work there should.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I want to go down the traditional route with this. I want it to be good enough for someone to put their own backing behind it. That said I’ve seen some really good self published books out there so I wouldn’t discount it out of hand.

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Too long.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Tough question. When I started writing it I was heavily influenced by David Peace’s Red Riding books but I’ve moved away from that and found a voice of my own. I’d like it to be comparable with a good Kevin Barry short story, but obviously longer, or Irvine Welsh with less drugs and Scottish accents.

9) Who or What inspired you to write this book?

When I worked in care I found that despite the residents, or service users as we now call them, unique range of disabilities, syndromes and behaviours that the people who worked with them were often more interesting and harder to understand. One person in particular stayed with me years after I’d left and I wondered what it was that lead him to work with such vulnerable people. So I took him as a starting point and then mutated it into a twisted story of unrequited love and Polish gangsters.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Ah but surely the promise of urine drenched bed sheets is enough? My book will offer an insight into the world of private care. The less than honourable dealings of some of the people that run these homes and the transient characters that work there. Its filled with romance, angst, brutal violence, a quest for the truth and a butt clenching climax. Nuff said.

It’s tag time:

I’m tagging three fellow writers: Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali. Three very different writers and very busy people, so I hope they don’t mind. Cheers in advance guys.

The Next Big Thing

Next Big Thing

The following ten questions (and my stab at answering them) form part of The Next Big Thing. If you don’t know what this is, it’s simply an opportunity to tell the world about your current writing project. And when you’ve finished answering the ten questions below you get to tag other people, who do the same.

Its my turn to answer and then tag three other writing friends – so advance apologies to Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali.

I was tagged by Richard Lakin. Richard is a tremendous writer with a love of pugilism and rail travel. You can check out Richard’s knock out work Richard Lakin

So, Garrie, what’s your next big thing?

I’m just putting the finishing touches to a short story I’m sending to the BBC’s Writers Room as part of their Opening Lines competition, it has to be in by Friday so I really shouldn’t be doing this now. Prior to that I sent a short story off to Cinnamon Press and another to the Stroke Association for their celebratory publication around the theme of 20 as they’ve been around for, yes, you guessed it, twenty years. I just had two poems published in the Offa’s Press anthology, ‘We’re All In This Together’ and I’ve another in the Earth Love anthology this Spring. Twisted between all this are bursts of keyboard activity as I try to finish my novel.

20121214-161656.jpg

1) What is the working title of your book?

The book has had a number of titles since I started it including, Here Come the Lobsters, (the very title of this blog) Spoon Squad and currently Going Underground. Going Underground was a reference to the classic Jam song but also a reference to a series of tunnels that had a prime position in the narrative. I’ve since filled in the tunnels so the title could change again.

2) Where did the idea come from for the book?

It came from me head! Like, straight out from between me ears and onto the page. Ugh, that sounds messy which is apt as it came from what can be a messy profession. In the early 90’s I was working in a care home in Northampton, my home town. It was a real eye opener. Not just because of the people that lived there, who were challenging, frightening and wonderful but also because of the people who worked with them. I worked in a number of places during the 90’s in Northampton and Birmingham but it was the thought of setting something in my home town that dealt with these people that live on the edges of society that really excited me.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

I’m not sure. Its dark with light touches of humour and very urban. Literary fiction sounds a bit pompous to me. It’s just a cracking tale of unrequited love, with psychotic Polish gangsters and large doses of piss stained laundry thrown in for good measure. I find genres quite hard to pin down sometimes and not altogether useful. I’ve just finished Kevin Barry’s City of Bohane, which is set in the near future in a fictional west coast Irish city. Now you might class it as science fiction but your average sci-fi enthusiast wouldn’t be best pleased if they took it home (no spaceships or gadgetry,) or you could call it speculative fiction, but it could just as easily be called historical fiction (this makes sense if you’ve read it.) I think I’d best get it finished first before I start worrying about genres.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

There are three main characters: Miles who’s in his early twenties and struggling with being unemployable as a photographer despite four years of studying; Sophia, a gorgeous Polish volunteer trying to lay her grandfather’s ghost to rest and Vince a twisted mass of muscle and hatred trying to kill his past. Miles would be played by Robert Sheehan of Misfits and Red Riding fame as he has emotional depth, gobbyness and isn’t too pretty. I’d have Jelka van Houten play Sophia, she’s possibly not young enough but I thought she was marvellous in Channel 4’s Fresh Meat. You’d need a very physical actor to play Vince, someone with a brutal physique ( or the ability to bulk up ) and commanding voice, with that in mind I’d go for Tom Hardy from this summer’s The Dark Knight Rises, you’d never think he was the same guy who started out in Band of Brothers.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

High Fidelity meets Shallow Grave. No, that’s the elevator pitch. Let’s see. Spencer House is home to the broken souls that slip through the cracks; the troubled, the violent, but they shouldn’t worry you; the people who work there should.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I want to go down the traditional route with this. I want it to be good enough for someone to put their own backing behind it. That said I’ve seen some really good self published books out there so I wouldn’t discount it out of hand.

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Too long.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Tough question. When I started writing it I was heavily influenced by David Peace’s Red Riding books but I’ve moved away from that and found a voice of my own. I’d like it to be comparable with a good Kevin Barry short story, but obviously longer, or Irvine Welsh with less drugs and Scottish accents.

9) Who or What inspired you to write this book?

When I worked in care I found that despite the residents, or service users as we now call them, unique range of disabilities, syndromes and behaviours that the people who worked with them were often more interesting and harder to understand. One person in particular stayed with me years after I’d left and I wondered what it was that lead him to work with such vulnerable people. So I took him as a starting point and then mutated it into a twisted story of unrequited love and Polish gangsters.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Ah but surely the promise of urine drenched bed sheets is enough? My book will offer an insight into the world of private care. The less than honourable dealings of some of the people that run these homes and the transient characters that work there. Its filled with romance, angst, brutal violence, a quest for the truth and a but clenching climax. Nuff said.

It’s tag time:

I’m tagging three fellow writers: Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali. Three very different writers and very busy people, so I hope they don’t mind. Cheers in advance guys.

The Next Big Thing

Next Big Thing

The following ten questions (and my stab at answering them) form part of The Next Big Thing. If you don’t know what this is, it’s simply an opportunity to tell the world about your current writing project. And when you’ve finished answering the ten questions below you get to tag other people, who do the same.

Its my turn to answer and then tag three other writing friends – so advance apologies to Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali.

I was tagged by Richard Lakin. Richard is a tremendous writer with a love of pugilism and rail travel. You can check out Richard’s knock out work Richard Lakin

So, Garrie, what’s your next big thing?

I’m just putting the finishing touches to a short story I’m sending to the BBC’s Writers Room as part of their Opening Lines competition, it has to be in by Friday so I really shouldn’t be doing this now. Prior to that I sent a short story off to Cinnamon Press and another to the Stroke Association for their celebratory publication around the theme of 20 as they’ve been around for, yes, you guessed it, twenty years. I just had two poems published in the Offa’s Press anthology, ‘We’re All In This Together’ and I’ve another in the Earth Love anthology this Spring. Twisted between all this are bursts of keyboard activity as I try to finish my novel.

20121214-161656.jpg

1) What is the working title of your book?

The book has had a number of titles since I started it including, Here Come the Lobsters, (the very title of this blog) Spoon Squad and currently Going Underground. Going Underground was a reference to the classic Jam song but also a reference to a series of tunnels that had a prime position in the narrative. I’ve since filled in the tunnels so the title could change again.

2) Where did the idea come from for the book?

It came from me head! Like, straight out from between me ears and onto the page. Ugh, that sounds messy which is apt as it came from what can be a messy profession. In the early 90’s I was working in a care home in Northampton, my home town. It was a real eye opener. Not just because of the people that lived there, who were challenging, frightening and wonderful but also because of the people who worked with them. I worked in a number of places during the 90’s in Northampton and Birmingham but it was the thought of setting something in my home town that dealt with these people that live on the edges of society that really excited me.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

I’m not sure. Its dark with light touches of humour and very urban. Literary fiction sounds a bit pompous to me. It’s just a cracking tale of unrequited love, with psychotic Polish gangsters and large doses of piss stained laundry thrown in for good measure. I find genres quite hard to pin down sometimes and not altogether useful. I’ve just finished Kevin Barry’s City of Bohane, which is set in the near future in a fictional west coast Irish city. Now you might class it as science fiction but your average sci-fi enthusiast wouldn’t be best pleased if they took it home (no spaceships or gadgetry,) or you could call it speculative fiction, but it could just as easily be called historical fiction (this makes sense if you’ve read it.) I think I’d best get it finished first before I start worrying about genres.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

There are three main characters: Miles who’s in his early twenties and struggling with being unemployable as a photographer despite four years of studying; Sophia, a gorgeous Polish volunteer trying to lay her grandfather’s ghost to rest and Vince a twisted mass of muscle and hatred trying to kill his past. Miles would be played by Robert Sheehan of Misfits and Red Ridingfame as he has emotional depth, gobbyness and isn’t too pretty. I’d have Jelka van Houten play Sophia, she’s possible not young enough but I thought she was marvellous in Channel 4’s Fresh Meat. You’d need a very physical actor to play Vince, someone with a brutal physique ( or the ability to bulk up ) and commanding voice, with that in mind I’d go for Tom Hardy from this summer’s The Dark Knight Rises, you’d never think he was the same guy who started out in Band of Brothers.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

High Fidelity meets Shallow Grave. No, that’s the elevator pitch. Let’s see. Spencer House is home to the broken souls that slip through the cracks; the troubled, the violent, but they shouldn’t worry you; the people who work there should.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I want to go down the traditional route with this. I want it to be good enough for someone to put their own backing behind it. That said I’ve seen some really good self published books out there so I wouldn’t discount it out of hand.

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Too long.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Tough question. When I started writing it I was heavily influenced by David Peace’s Red Riding books but I’ve moved away from that and found a voice of my own. I’d like it to be comparable with a good Kevin Barry short story, but obviously longer, or Irvine Welsh with less drugs and Scottish accents.

9) Who or What inspired you to write this book?

When I worked in care I found that despite the residents, or service users as we now call them, unique range of disabilities, syndromes and behaviours that the people who worked with them were often more interesting and harder to understand. One person in particular stayed with me years after I’d left and I wondered what it was that lead him to work with such vulnerable people. So I took him as a starting point and then mutated it into a twisted story of unrequited love and Polish gangsters.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Ah but surely the promise of urine drenched bed sheets is enough? My book will offer an insight into the world of private care. The less than honourable dealings of some of the people that run these homes and the transient characters that work there. Its filled with romance, angst, brutal violence, a quest for the truth and a but clenching climax. Nuff said.

It’s tag time:

I’m tagging three fellow writers: Ryan Davis, Andy Winter and Yasmin Ali. Three very different writers and very busy people, so I hope they don’t mind. Cheers in advance guys.

The only Art Deco swimming pool in England.

I’m just doing a bit of research for my never-ending novel and I came across the wonderful short film celebrating the Mounts Swimming Baths in Northampton Town. The Baths were built in 1936 on the site of the old prison’s recreation ground and are thought to be the only Art Deco baths that are still used in the country.

I’d forgotten all about the giant reliefs of male and female swimmers on the walls to donate the separate changing areas. Some of the detail shown in the film is stunning. We just took it for granted as kids but what a mighty fine place for a swim. And the driving force behind this wonderful project? None other than Basset Locke a local councillor, who’d also had his own home in Derngate remodelled by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, a far cry from the self-serving gits that run the local council these days.

Enjoy.

Music for the soul.

Do you listen to music when you write?

I only ask because, as some of you will already know, I’m knee-deep into writing my first novel which is set in Northampton, 1992 and to help picture what it was like back then (almost twenty years ago, gulp) I’ve been listening to music from that period. I’ve compiled a soundtrack of stuff to act as a sensory kick-start for when I sit down to write or to be used as a general mood setter. The tricky bit is picking stuff that was around then, it’s amazing how wrong your own memory can be sometimes.

Don’t rely on Wikipedia entries as these can often be far from accurate, do check the bands website or if you have them the original albums, although this can take some time and you can find yourself just playing the little buggers and drifting off…..whoops.

Bands I’m listening to at the moment to help me travel back in time are; Primal Scream, The House of Love, My Bloody Valentine, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Stone Roses, The Happy Mondays, Radiohead (the first two EPs,) Ride, Nirvana, The Manic Street Preachers, The Wedding Present and so on. However, this wouldn’t be an accurate reflection of the times without including all the dross that was around then also, bands such as; Snap, Gloria Estefan, Genesis, Whitless Houston, Bon Jovi, Dr Alban, Jimmy Nail and I’m going to stop there before my ears fill with blood but you get the idea.

My novel isn’t full of music, it isn’t even about music but the characters in the novel have a love of music and socialise upon the fringe of small town society so this stuff is important to them and needs to be delved into even if it does mean listening to Kriss Kross singing ‘Jump.’

So, in no particular order here are my top mood songs for 1992 at the moment:

Reverence by The Jesus and Mary Chain
Leave them all behind by Ride
Disappointed by Electronic
This Charming Man by The Smiths (It was re-released in 1992)
It’s my life by Dr Alban (bloody awful)
Erotica by Madge
Would I lie to you? by Charles & Eddy (Whitewashed soul)
Heal the world by Michael Jackson (bollocks)
People Everyday by Arrested Development
Blue Room by The Orb
Rhythm is a dancer by Snap (worst lyric ever)
I drove all night by Roy Orbison
Come play with me by The Wedding Present
Thinking about you by Radiohead

A lot of this list wont make sense unless you were fortunate (or very unfortunate in some cases) enough to have your ears turned on in 1992 in the UK. This list is by no means definitive, it’s just something that helps me to immerse myself in the time I’m writing about. If there’s anything I’ve left out that you think should be in there then please let me know.

Finally if you think this is a load of nonsense, especially the part about checking through your old records, then think on. In the few minutes it’s taken me to write this blog I’ve discovered that Radiohead’s Drill EP (which I still own) is worth anything from £80-£250! So, even if you don’t get a decent story, from of sifting through your memories, you might get a few quid.

Happy reminiscing.

Radiohead's Drill EP now worth £250