I left Tasmania and my darling Seth Todd, and flew for 24 stinking hours on a succession of Jetstar flights. Let it be known, Jetstar are low in cost but high in tedium; for hours unending I had nought to do but stare at the barren headrest before me. My requests for a free little glass of water were repeatedly declined, and in the end I had no choice but to splash out and numb myself with a little plastic wine bottle. Continue reading
it was tramlines festival in sheffield. we had been out all day, a big group of us, new friends and old friends running around together being half wits.
i was on a high, no drugs yet, just pure energy borne all from freedom and a can-do sunnyside upbeat demeanour, the sort that just pours out of you
when ya with ya mates. Continue reading
It seems our sole writer and contributor, Dan, wrote the first four paragraphs of this diary entry after a very long day, and was a little frustrated at the time. If you wish to skip straight to the main narrative, which is considerably more jolly, scroll down past the opening 373 words of pure bile. Don’t feel bad. He’ll never know.
***** Continue reading