Voyage to Sunderland

Voyage to Sunderland

December 12, 2007 Art 0

I learnt a lot on a very recent trip up north (where it’s grim) for prezzies, and to see Holly and The Symptoms. Holly updated me with lots of details my piss-poor memory fucked up and has provided me with some shavings of archive Crawling Chaos materiel I can use to further a clear history etc.

Jeff from Crawling Chaos refuses to speak to me, which is sad. Unfortunately I needed to speak about impending events so him putting the phone down on me (again) does no-one any good. (I’ve since had two messages)

One of the things is that in a clear out I (we) found his birth certificate so I’ll return it recorded delivery. It’ll be interesting to see if he refuses it. (still to be done)

I’m reminded by these happenings of how “me and Jeff” started out..It all started in class 3 South at Ashington Grammar School. There was an annoying, opinionated, loud mouthed boy in my (maths) class (we were streamed and separated in various combinations in those days). I never spoke to him as I thought him was so arrogant and childish. One day, (he sat behind me in class), he pulled my chair from under me just as I was sitting down. Ho Ho. Everyone knows the gag and everyone’s tried it.

The whole class saw this and were goading me on to wallop him one – and I was seeing a bit of red mist at the time, I can tell you. But I desisted, thinking I was “above all that sort of thing”. (I’ve a natural tendency to do exactly the opposite of crowd behaviour, whatever it is, and it’s generally seen me in good stead). After this, we got talking, I can’t remember how, and we became best friends and finally started The Crawling Chaos, maybe five years later.

During Chaos, we pulled together on the same oar enduring many hardships (and fun, it must be said), and disagreed about bog all really.

In the spirit of truth and reconciliation and in full acknowledgement that my memories on some points are befuddled, I’ve removed the rest of this post. Perhaps it may reappear, corrected, with the addition of some corroborating history, but I doubt it. The memory is my own and when I die it will be as dust.

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo

 

© 1977, Strangely Perfect.