I'm sat here, halfway through two chocolate crepes. It's Friday night & even the taxi driver pointed out that I'm doing it wrong. I suppose at this rate it'll be etched on my gravestone; "Never stayed out late on Fridays". I know plenty of folk who wouldn't dream of departing their couches & futons for even a sniff of a party, let alone a full shebang! Here I am, being judged by the world for having a quiet night; cup of tea & mental breakdown in hand.
Do you ever feel like you've met your soul-mate, but fortunately your soul-mate is a twenty-four inch Korean TV with a built-in DVD player? Never mind all that chemical compatibility nonsense... I just want to know there's less wires getting in the way. Have you ever fallen in love with pyjamas? It's surprising how captivating cloth can be... especially when it's not questioning your long-term intentions or leaving sopping wet towels on your side of the bed.
YouTube is regularly feeding me conspiracy theories on the basis of a few careless forays into pseudo-science. Turns out the north pole of the planet Saturn is the devil, through which extra-dimensional beings are ejaculated & subjected to being shot down by US space nukes. US space nukes, you'll know, are those special kind of space nukes that are specially intended for blowing the bajeezus out of any unsuspecting earth-bound extra-dimensional devil spawn. If you didn't, now you do... I often worry about how many people buy into these ideas. I worry more for the unsuspecting earth-bound extra-dimensional devil spawn.
I'm eyeing up the second crepe now & only the fact that I'm smoking is getting in my way. Dilemma central... Drug addiction is an interesting complex to explore. John Lennon said something along the lines of; "We should stop mistreating the people who are addicted to drugs & try to figure out why they're addicted in the first place." As I write, there's a hint of doubt that I may have already written this paragraph before. Regardless, I like John & I think he has a point. Ultimately, we already know the answer. Where there's money to be exploited, exploitation be done. I smoke because I like it... It's a handy crux to fill an unidentified void & it's available. On the other hand, I really like these crepes...
Food for thought... You're a traveller on a journey of exploration. There's no aim to the journey, other than to see & experience everything you come into contact with. Many many years have passed & you have discovered many things, of the world & yourself. You've built roads & bridges, made friends & new family, seen good times & worse... You are ridden with the scars of your adventures, inside & out. Your life has become a novel worthy of the finest libraries. As your journey comes to a close, a man you recognise appears before you. He says; "I have heard your stories & know of your adventure. Why don't you go out and do it again?". Then he takes a million pound out of his pocket and sticks it on your filthy lap.
I'm Billy Nomad & welcome to my br(h)ead...
BYE
DISCLAIMER: I am as mad as I appear to be in writing, I've simply chosen a style of writing that accentuates that madness to provide entertainment for my fellows. I am not in any way dangerous but at no point should you attempt to feed me, stroke me or send me to "live on a farm". I will not have it.
Showing posts with label aliens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aliens. Show all posts
Friday, 22 April 2016
Wednesday, 29 July 2015
Absence Makes The Heart Something Something...
Long time no see...
I suppose you'll be wondering "Just where have you been!?", "What have you been doing!?" & "Why do people keep on comparing you to *insert fascist dictator here*!?".
The answers are simple, yet the destination isn't important (or so I've been told). The adventure itself is too long and tenuously set to supply you with the desired finished product. But, I will try my hardest to deliver. Having spent the weekend camping in the rain with four other negatively charged writers, I'm feeling somewhat inspired.
Here goes.
Last year, along with a small group of friends & associates, I set about planning the final stages of a project that had taken me nearly a decade to realise. The basic idea was to create a fair & independent career step for musical artists, away from the cabaret & function band markets. Truth be told, not a thing exists nor is likely to exist in my lifetime. As I see it, you can be a poor workless artist, full of integrity & passion. Or, you can be a tired-out pop-star with a long line of credit & a lot of sins to answer for.
I can hear the argument now; "But what about the underground music scene?". Well, unfortunately, having worked there a while I can tell you straight, it's called the underground for a reason. It's cramped and it's noisy. Unless you get on a mad hype with a strong network to boot, you're pissing in the wind.
Which brings me neatly back.
The one thing I have always lacked is the network. The impenetrable web of contacts & correspondents to link me up to the what's & when's. The final stages of planning were to create a network of contacts within our local area as well as creating a public face for promotion & profiteering. Simple, right?
Wrong.
Long story short, in true historical fashion, a separatist group emerged within the network. After only six months of meetings, I found myself being lined-up for exile or worse. So, some time around May, I sacked off the traitors & switched up the plan. Snatching the company branding as I dived onto my dozing steed. Or something like that...
My reputation is still very much in recovery.
Lesson learned.
In June I joined forces with the Poet Tree Alliance, helping them plan their own projects, all the while keeping an eye out for rebel forces. They invited me to help them with a festival in Runnymede which seemed like a great idea at the time. Little did I know I'd be spending three days guarding speakers from hippies while surrounded by armed police.
During the three days I met some incredible people who had been living entirely independently from society for almost five years. Minus a bit of skip diving of course. They had free, clean running water, electricity & even toilets (the compost kind). Most of all, they were extremely positive about the whole thing. You'd expect seeing four winters with nothing but a few bits of re-purposed wood to keep you warm would wind you up a bit. Apparently it didn't.
On the Saturday night, I took over the running of the main stage along with the PTA, seeing as the organisers had scampered away at the first sign of ravers. The timings were all over the place and the sound was atrocious but a good time was had by all. Especially the acts themselves who all appeared to have taken one thing or another. One such highlight was a comedy threesome, two of which were on LSD & the other on shrooms. How's that for dynamics?
On the Sunday, without a wink, we tore it all down. We packed it all up. We negotiated our release with the police and we were off. There was a weird feeling amongst the group when we said our goodbyes. Almost defeated. Almost.
When I first arrived in Runnymede I declared it "Heaven on Earth". At first its humanity is overwhelming & awesome. Its ability to exist & thrive in the way it does seems nothing short of a miracle. After a couple days of starting again I got the point and I saw the cracks. When the glaze wore off I realised that what I saw wasn't a miracle, it was an opportunity. The people of Runnymede have a long way to go and a hell of a challenge. To start the world again in the image of community & sharing is not a popular thought in the eyes of politicians but on the 800th anniversary of the Magna Carta, the law decreed Runnymede free to try. I'll be back again to visit soon. I'm hoping for a Waitrose BLT when I get there.
Even if it is only one day out-of-date.
Later in the month I headed out to Budapest, fleeting slightly to Bratislava somewhere in the middle. Taking in the sights & doing the done things was mostly on the agenda, aside from getting away from the nanny-state for a stint. We saw many things including one of the only Catholic churches to not have Jesus Christ at the alter (they'd opted for Saint Steven instead. Apparently they really like him there. Not that they don't like Jesus, he's all over the place. Its just that Steven is a really cool guy, you know?).
On top of the usual, we took a free walking tour of both towns, escaping our tour of Budapest because of rain & too many silly questions unanswered. We followed through with our tour of Bratislava and were treated to the location of a bar crawl later in the evening. After a quick bite to eat with a few other likely sorts we'd picked up a long the way, we argued bitterly about which direction the bar was in. I was so sure I was right. We drank, we danced & we somehow got back to our apartment in one piece.
By the time we got back to Budapest, I was adamant that I would play a gig while on the continent, having turned down a 2am slot at the local Irish pub a few nights before. Unfortunately, unless you're a huge La Roux fan, it's pretty hard to find the local music scene in Budapest. A bit like Milton Keynes. So, we opted for karaoke at a Janis Joplin themed pub instead, where I was coaxed into singing a song from The Little Mermaid OST.
On our last night we toyed with the idea of making our way out of town to an enormous cruise ship, converted into a plethora of nightclubs. After six hours of procrastinating and a quick visit to the famous baths, we made ourselves content that we wouldn't go. Instead, we headed deep into town to a place that people had been nagging us to see since we arrived. Not literally nagging but it helps with the story. So, after giving up on the cruise ship, we made our way to Szimpla.
In Hungary there's no pesky health & safety surrounding the laws on what you can do with a building. After World War Two, many of the constructs in Budapest were left to rot, only to be taken on by hostels & bars. If Szimpla was anything to go on, repairs & maintenance were low on the agenda. Unlike having a good time.
After a few drinks I happened upon a space in the vast cavernous venue with a stage. More than that, on the stage was a band. So, in I popped to have a listen. The band played out and everyone clapped and I found myself having a word with the singer. "Oh, no." he said. "It's not our gig. It's an open stage. Anyone can play!". "Right!" I said. "I'll do that."
Through some course of logistical drunkenness I stumbled onto the stage at Szimpla & did my best to entertain the crowd for a whole hour. We sang, we talked, we danced & fell over (a couple of times); the stage manager blocking my exit every time I made for the finale. He even threw me up for another one after I came back to collect my capo a couple of hours later, even more drunk. The band didn't seemed to mind or struggle too much to keep up with my astounding sense of rhythm. It was hilarious.
Other than that, I've been planning, painting & procrastinating as usual. Although I did differ from the norm & threw a Donald Trump(esque) beauty pageant at Properflop last week.
I think I might be losing my mind.
Have you seen it?
I suppose you'll be wondering "Just where have you been!?", "What have you been doing!?" & "Why do people keep on comparing you to *insert fascist dictator here*!?".
The answers are simple, yet the destination isn't important (or so I've been told). The adventure itself is too long and tenuously set to supply you with the desired finished product. But, I will try my hardest to deliver. Having spent the weekend camping in the rain with four other negatively charged writers, I'm feeling somewhat inspired.
Here goes.
Last year, along with a small group of friends & associates, I set about planning the final stages of a project that had taken me nearly a decade to realise. The basic idea was to create a fair & independent career step for musical artists, away from the cabaret & function band markets. Truth be told, not a thing exists nor is likely to exist in my lifetime. As I see it, you can be a poor workless artist, full of integrity & passion. Or, you can be a tired-out pop-star with a long line of credit & a lot of sins to answer for.
I can hear the argument now; "But what about the underground music scene?". Well, unfortunately, having worked there a while I can tell you straight, it's called the underground for a reason. It's cramped and it's noisy. Unless you get on a mad hype with a strong network to boot, you're pissing in the wind.
Which brings me neatly back.
The one thing I have always lacked is the network. The impenetrable web of contacts & correspondents to link me up to the what's & when's. The final stages of planning were to create a network of contacts within our local area as well as creating a public face for promotion & profiteering. Simple, right?
Wrong.
Long story short, in true historical fashion, a separatist group emerged within the network. After only six months of meetings, I found myself being lined-up for exile or worse. So, some time around May, I sacked off the traitors & switched up the plan. Snatching the company branding as I dived onto my dozing steed. Or something like that...
My reputation is still very much in recovery.
Lesson learned.
In June I joined forces with the Poet Tree Alliance, helping them plan their own projects, all the while keeping an eye out for rebel forces. They invited me to help them with a festival in Runnymede which seemed like a great idea at the time. Little did I know I'd be spending three days guarding speakers from hippies while surrounded by armed police.
During the three days I met some incredible people who had been living entirely independently from society for almost five years. Minus a bit of skip diving of course. They had free, clean running water, electricity & even toilets (the compost kind). Most of all, they were extremely positive about the whole thing. You'd expect seeing four winters with nothing but a few bits of re-purposed wood to keep you warm would wind you up a bit. Apparently it didn't.
On the Saturday night, I took over the running of the main stage along with the PTA, seeing as the organisers had scampered away at the first sign of ravers. The timings were all over the place and the sound was atrocious but a good time was had by all. Especially the acts themselves who all appeared to have taken one thing or another. One such highlight was a comedy threesome, two of which were on LSD & the other on shrooms. How's that for dynamics?
On the Sunday, without a wink, we tore it all down. We packed it all up. We negotiated our release with the police and we were off. There was a weird feeling amongst the group when we said our goodbyes. Almost defeated. Almost.
When I first arrived in Runnymede I declared it "Heaven on Earth". At first its humanity is overwhelming & awesome. Its ability to exist & thrive in the way it does seems nothing short of a miracle. After a couple days of starting again I got the point and I saw the cracks. When the glaze wore off I realised that what I saw wasn't a miracle, it was an opportunity. The people of Runnymede have a long way to go and a hell of a challenge. To start the world again in the image of community & sharing is not a popular thought in the eyes of politicians but on the 800th anniversary of the Magna Carta, the law decreed Runnymede free to try. I'll be back again to visit soon. I'm hoping for a Waitrose BLT when I get there.
Even if it is only one day out-of-date.
Later in the month I headed out to Budapest, fleeting slightly to Bratislava somewhere in the middle. Taking in the sights & doing the done things was mostly on the agenda, aside from getting away from the nanny-state for a stint. We saw many things including one of the only Catholic churches to not have Jesus Christ at the alter (they'd opted for Saint Steven instead. Apparently they really like him there. Not that they don't like Jesus, he's all over the place. Its just that Steven is a really cool guy, you know?).
On top of the usual, we took a free walking tour of both towns, escaping our tour of Budapest because of rain & too many silly questions unanswered. We followed through with our tour of Bratislava and were treated to the location of a bar crawl later in the evening. After a quick bite to eat with a few other likely sorts we'd picked up a long the way, we argued bitterly about which direction the bar was in. I was so sure I was right. We drank, we danced & we somehow got back to our apartment in one piece.
By the time we got back to Budapest, I was adamant that I would play a gig while on the continent, having turned down a 2am slot at the local Irish pub a few nights before. Unfortunately, unless you're a huge La Roux fan, it's pretty hard to find the local music scene in Budapest. A bit like Milton Keynes. So, we opted for karaoke at a Janis Joplin themed pub instead, where I was coaxed into singing a song from The Little Mermaid OST.
On our last night we toyed with the idea of making our way out of town to an enormous cruise ship, converted into a plethora of nightclubs. After six hours of procrastinating and a quick visit to the famous baths, we made ourselves content that we wouldn't go. Instead, we headed deep into town to a place that people had been nagging us to see since we arrived. Not literally nagging but it helps with the story. So, after giving up on the cruise ship, we made our way to Szimpla.
In Hungary there's no pesky health & safety surrounding the laws on what you can do with a building. After World War Two, many of the constructs in Budapest were left to rot, only to be taken on by hostels & bars. If Szimpla was anything to go on, repairs & maintenance were low on the agenda. Unlike having a good time.
After a few drinks I happened upon a space in the vast cavernous venue with a stage. More than that, on the stage was a band. So, in I popped to have a listen. The band played out and everyone clapped and I found myself having a word with the singer. "Oh, no." he said. "It's not our gig. It's an open stage. Anyone can play!". "Right!" I said. "I'll do that."
Through some course of logistical drunkenness I stumbled onto the stage at Szimpla & did my best to entertain the crowd for a whole hour. We sang, we talked, we danced & fell over (a couple of times); the stage manager blocking my exit every time I made for the finale. He even threw me up for another one after I came back to collect my capo a couple of hours later, even more drunk. The band didn't seemed to mind or struggle too much to keep up with my astounding sense of rhythm. It was hilarious.
Other than that, I've been planning, painting & procrastinating as usual. Although I did differ from the norm & threw a Donald Trump(esque) beauty pageant at Properflop last week.
I think I might be losing my mind.
Have you seen it?
Wednesday, 15 October 2014
Amster-Damned!
They say that Amsterdam is the sex, drugs (but not Rock 'N' Roll) capital of the world. Whoever "They" are... It is said to be one of the most dangerous places in the world. Apparently...
For years family, friends & other such familiarities boasted of their adventures to the heart of the Netherlands. With its lanky structures and thriving culture. Miles of canals & smiles as far as the eye can see. To me it appeared a veritable dream. A wonderland. I've always been partial to eye candy, especially when it comes in the form of nature, architecture & ultimately, fun.
Long gone is our ability to appreciate what we see with our eyes and experience with the power of our feet. Even grown adults in the UK appear lost for things to do past toying with technology & ingesting some form of drug or another. Despite a high level of culture still evident in the larger cities & districts, smaller towns and cities have taken to dying out sometime around 7pm for dinner and waking early the next day for another round of work. Life is still apparent but a huge chunk of our culture has fallen into neglect since the plummet of the popular music industry in the 1990's. Being born at the cusp of that turn, Amsterdam struck as the ideal destination to help me regain some faith in the world.
As I stepped onto the tarmac at Zeeburg tram station, it occurred to me that for the next 3 days I would be very much at home. As far as the landscape told, we could have been back in Buckinghamshire. Rolling green fields as far as the morning fog would allow, permeated with several small, unobtrusive settlements. The only tell-tale sign that we were anywhere but home was the long foretold windmills dotted here and there, standing proudly & effortlessly on the canvas before me.
After the 14 hour trip, hopping between the busses, boats & trains, stresses were high. Causing petty disputes to break out. The result was a slightly dulled tram journey into the centre of Amsterdam in which I was consumed by the various notices & advertisements plastered about the carriage. The Dutch language is an incredible feat. Germanic by birth & poetic by nature, I could spend hours & more attempting to work out every nuance of their alien tongue.
After what felt like moments, the first signs of densely packed civilisation made their way into centre stage. Long gone was grass & unabolished nature. Enter cobbles & chorus...
The sheer sound of Amsterdam is astonishing. Not a moments silence occurs, even in the darkest corner of the deepest of night. Making our way from the tram, the music of footsteps, engines & distant speakers possessed the atmosphere. Laughter, joy & chatter scattered throughout the inescapable sound-scape made for the perfect touch.
Priorities in place, feet made for way for tea & bodies followed. Eyes distracted by the plethora of sights to see. We made haste along the bustling concourse of shops, museums, bars & hostels known as Damrak. Surrounded by enormous, brilliantly crafted spectacles of human creation. Their homes & habitats presented as pieces of art. Reaching high into the Dutch sky. After a brief stint of awe, warm water was found and tea bags issued, ready for the days planning.
I fished my scrappiest of papers from my most affordable of bags and fished deeper for a working pen. Upon this paper I made my agenda for the week both clear & concise;
1. Sex Museum
2. Anne Frank
3. Boat Tour
4. Have Spliff
Prior to my journey, one place in particular had been emphasized above all else, even by my own Grandparents. The Sex Museum. Curiosity had gotten the better of me and on the very last day we did indeed adventure gormlessly past the erect doormen & beyond. I highly recommend it.
But of course Anne's 'Ouse had to be on the list. The very place that Anne Frank hid away from the Nazi forces with nothing but a diary to entertain her. The tour is gloomy & perfectly orchestrated to deliver the mood one would expect from visiting such a desperate place. Steep, narrow staircases & hidden doorways were the only defence from each successive room. Each with it's own history. Each with it's one tale; delivered by the spirit of Anne Frank & her trusted journal.
When someone says "canal", I say "Grand Union"! Of course, Amsterdam's canals are nothing of the sort. Equal to Venice itself, Amsterdam has more waterways & lochs than your average town or city. Yet, it's equally impressive how easily one can take it upon themselves to hire a 4-person pedalo & embark on the Amsterdam canal system as if on some noble sea voyage. Slowly but surely, we survived our gruesome trek on closed waters. Despite having been set upon by an angry, saxophonic tour boat & a low hanging tree.
Fourth on the list was perhaps the most daunting of all our ventures. I have experienced Cannabis in England many times but never had I the opportunity to do so in peace. Strange as it seems, the experience is altogether different. Gone is the over-hanging sense of impending punishment & perhaps more-so, guilt. The common misconception lies that Cannabis is legal in Amsterdam. That is not the case... Cannabis (amongst other drugs) have been decriminalised and therefore can be distributed & consumed on licensed premises. If you were to be found smoking or otherwise ingesting Cannabis in the street, you would risk facing charges for not only use-of but also possession-of. Licensing laws are becoming stricter in Amsterdam & elsewhere in Holland such as Rotterdam, but a few loyal "Coffee Shops" remain. My favourite of the pick was The Doors Cafe. Once owned by Jim Morrison himself and perhaps still by his estate, it just so happened to be on the corner of the block that we were staying on and played the perfect setting for morning & evening cups of tea.
The morning of the final day came upon us like a storm. Moods were low as bags were packed, ready to depart our spectacular Dutch grotto. It's 3-storey bodice boasted a beautiful creation. My favourite part of which was the low, dark loft conversion that very quickly became my home for the duration. The bed(s) was awful but there's something distinctively seductive in saying "Close the hatch...". We were blessed to find a fully-fledged entertainment system & book collection waiting for us on our arrival but with the whole world waiting outside, we had other plans...
Saucijzenbroodje were had by all (apart from the vegetarian) and off we headed, for our very last exploration of Amsterdam and it's many wonders. Namely China Town, the infamous "Red Light District", Dam Square & beyond.
A glorious adventure & a highly recommended holiday for anyone looking for real-world beauty. Go to Amsterdam. Lively up yourself!
For years family, friends & other such familiarities boasted of their adventures to the heart of the Netherlands. With its lanky structures and thriving culture. Miles of canals & smiles as far as the eye can see. To me it appeared a veritable dream. A wonderland. I've always been partial to eye candy, especially when it comes in the form of nature, architecture & ultimately, fun.
Long gone is our ability to appreciate what we see with our eyes and experience with the power of our feet. Even grown adults in the UK appear lost for things to do past toying with technology & ingesting some form of drug or another. Despite a high level of culture still evident in the larger cities & districts, smaller towns and cities have taken to dying out sometime around 7pm for dinner and waking early the next day for another round of work. Life is still apparent but a huge chunk of our culture has fallen into neglect since the plummet of the popular music industry in the 1990's. Being born at the cusp of that turn, Amsterdam struck as the ideal destination to help me regain some faith in the world.
As I stepped onto the tarmac at Zeeburg tram station, it occurred to me that for the next 3 days I would be very much at home. As far as the landscape told, we could have been back in Buckinghamshire. Rolling green fields as far as the morning fog would allow, permeated with several small, unobtrusive settlements. The only tell-tale sign that we were anywhere but home was the long foretold windmills dotted here and there, standing proudly & effortlessly on the canvas before me.
After the 14 hour trip, hopping between the busses, boats & trains, stresses were high. Causing petty disputes to break out. The result was a slightly dulled tram journey into the centre of Amsterdam in which I was consumed by the various notices & advertisements plastered about the carriage. The Dutch language is an incredible feat. Germanic by birth & poetic by nature, I could spend hours & more attempting to work out every nuance of their alien tongue.
After what felt like moments, the first signs of densely packed civilisation made their way into centre stage. Long gone was grass & unabolished nature. Enter cobbles & chorus...
The sheer sound of Amsterdam is astonishing. Not a moments silence occurs, even in the darkest corner of the deepest of night. Making our way from the tram, the music of footsteps, engines & distant speakers possessed the atmosphere. Laughter, joy & chatter scattered throughout the inescapable sound-scape made for the perfect touch.
Priorities in place, feet made for way for tea & bodies followed. Eyes distracted by the plethora of sights to see. We made haste along the bustling concourse of shops, museums, bars & hostels known as Damrak. Surrounded by enormous, brilliantly crafted spectacles of human creation. Their homes & habitats presented as pieces of art. Reaching high into the Dutch sky. After a brief stint of awe, warm water was found and tea bags issued, ready for the days planning.
I fished my scrappiest of papers from my most affordable of bags and fished deeper for a working pen. Upon this paper I made my agenda for the week both clear & concise;
1. Sex Museum
2. Anne Frank
3. Boat Tour
4. Have Spliff
Prior to my journey, one place in particular had been emphasized above all else, even by my own Grandparents. The Sex Museum. Curiosity had gotten the better of me and on the very last day we did indeed adventure gormlessly past the erect doormen & beyond. I highly recommend it.
But of course Anne's 'Ouse had to be on the list. The very place that Anne Frank hid away from the Nazi forces with nothing but a diary to entertain her. The tour is gloomy & perfectly orchestrated to deliver the mood one would expect from visiting such a desperate place. Steep, narrow staircases & hidden doorways were the only defence from each successive room. Each with it's own history. Each with it's one tale; delivered by the spirit of Anne Frank & her trusted journal.
When someone says "canal", I say "Grand Union"! Of course, Amsterdam's canals are nothing of the sort. Equal to Venice itself, Amsterdam has more waterways & lochs than your average town or city. Yet, it's equally impressive how easily one can take it upon themselves to hire a 4-person pedalo & embark on the Amsterdam canal system as if on some noble sea voyage. Slowly but surely, we survived our gruesome trek on closed waters. Despite having been set upon by an angry, saxophonic tour boat & a low hanging tree.
Fourth on the list was perhaps the most daunting of all our ventures. I have experienced Cannabis in England many times but never had I the opportunity to do so in peace. Strange as it seems, the experience is altogether different. Gone is the over-hanging sense of impending punishment & perhaps more-so, guilt. The common misconception lies that Cannabis is legal in Amsterdam. That is not the case... Cannabis (amongst other drugs) have been decriminalised and therefore can be distributed & consumed on licensed premises. If you were to be found smoking or otherwise ingesting Cannabis in the street, you would risk facing charges for not only use-of but also possession-of. Licensing laws are becoming stricter in Amsterdam & elsewhere in Holland such as Rotterdam, but a few loyal "Coffee Shops" remain. My favourite of the pick was The Doors Cafe. Once owned by Jim Morrison himself and perhaps still by his estate, it just so happened to be on the corner of the block that we were staying on and played the perfect setting for morning & evening cups of tea.
The morning of the final day came upon us like a storm. Moods were low as bags were packed, ready to depart our spectacular Dutch grotto. It's 3-storey bodice boasted a beautiful creation. My favourite part of which was the low, dark loft conversion that very quickly became my home for the duration. The bed(s) was awful but there's something distinctively seductive in saying "Close the hatch...". We were blessed to find a fully-fledged entertainment system & book collection waiting for us on our arrival but with the whole world waiting outside, we had other plans...
Saucijzenbroodje were had by all (apart from the vegetarian) and off we headed, for our very last exploration of Amsterdam and it's many wonders. Namely China Town, the infamous "Red Light District", Dam Square & beyond.
A glorious adventure & a highly recommended holiday for anyone looking for real-world beauty. Go to Amsterdam. Lively up yourself!
Monday, 13 October 2014
Space! The "Finally" Frontier...
It seems so easy to peer up at the nights sky and wonder "What's all that about...?". Harder still is the journey we have taken to actually discovering the answer. A journey that we are all still very much a part of, today more than ever.
In the year 2020, the human race will be reaching out to colonise another planet. Namely, Mars. For the first time in modern history, our species will be branching out into space to become an all new breed of human. The Martian. Every single life born on Mars will be in a different state of evolutionary balance with nature and in turn, small, almost insignificant changes will occur over a series of generations. Causing a split in the path of our two species evolution.
To start with, the lack of pollution and small organic life will have a huge effect over time on the immune system and life expectancy of your average Martian. Whether for the better or worse we are yet to see. Other than that, diet & exercise will have dramatic effects on their metabolisms & muscle structures so keeping healthy will be a major priority to fending off the negative effects of evolution and preventing the rise of a lesser human sub-species. After all, this mission is set in place to progress the human race, not the alternative.
Ultimately, the steps we have taken today will have an incredible effect on our entire future in this, our universe. Who knows, in a few thousand years time we may be so different to our Martian cousins that we forget we were ever related. That way we'll have the Aliens we always dreamed of...
There's still time to apply for the Mars colony. Follow your dreams. Reach for the stars!
In the year 2020, the human race will be reaching out to colonise another planet. Namely, Mars. For the first time in modern history, our species will be branching out into space to become an all new breed of human. The Martian. Every single life born on Mars will be in a different state of evolutionary balance with nature and in turn, small, almost insignificant changes will occur over a series of generations. Causing a split in the path of our two species evolution.
To start with, the lack of pollution and small organic life will have a huge effect over time on the immune system and life expectancy of your average Martian. Whether for the better or worse we are yet to see. Other than that, diet & exercise will have dramatic effects on their metabolisms & muscle structures so keeping healthy will be a major priority to fending off the negative effects of evolution and preventing the rise of a lesser human sub-species. After all, this mission is set in place to progress the human race, not the alternative.
Ultimately, the steps we have taken today will have an incredible effect on our entire future in this, our universe. Who knows, in a few thousand years time we may be so different to our Martian cousins that we forget we were ever related. That way we'll have the Aliens we always dreamed of...
There's still time to apply for the Mars colony. Follow your dreams. Reach for the stars!
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