By the time we left the Globe we only had time for one more pub, a new GBG entry near our gig, but mysteriously we had enough time for shopping in Oxford Street. This was a particular mystery to me, as I’d assumed we’d concluded our present shopping on 1 January, just as we do… Continue reading I WANT TO SEE THE BRIGHT LIGHTS TONIGHT
Tag: End of the Road
ANGUISH AND REDEMPTION IN LARMER TREE GARDENS
1 September at End of the Road has started well enough, but before the music had even started I received the call from Sis to say that was in Addenbrookes, prompting an anguised dash back along the M3/M25 to Waterbeach, leaving Mrs RM and James to fend for themselves in a field in Dorset. Friday,… Continue reading ANGUISH AND REDEMPTION IN LARMER TREE GARDENS
THE TRADITIONAL CRAWL FROM END OF THE ROAD TO THE MUSEUM GAINS A NEW ADHERANT
As you’d expect, I’m a big fan of custom and tradition. I ALWAYS spend exactly the same amount on Christmas presents each year, I ALWAYS forget our wedding anniversary and I ALWAYS go for the strongest beer at IndyMan assuming all thirds are priced the same Yes, I’m a creature of habit. So when we… Continue reading THE TRADITIONAL CRAWL FROM END OF THE ROAD TO THE MUSEUM GAINS A NEW ADHERANT
THE END OF THE ROAD
We returned from Scotland, an agonising nine (9) ticks short of GBG immortality, on the penultimate day of August. The 31st was spent wondering whether we should have made the effort to get to Orkney and finish the Guide. We wouldn’t have had any time to sleep, but hey-ho. But it was too late. September… Continue reading THE END OF THE ROAD
SUMMER CAME LATE TO CRANBORNE CHASE
We finally reached September, and after a morning hospital appointment with Mum headed down (only 3 hours, record) to Cranborne Chase, where Mrs RM deposited me at a field, near Wiltshire, like in the Pulp song (no drugs). Yes, End of the Road on my own, with only Baa Baa Toure for company. I’d booked… Continue reading SUMMER CAME LATE TO CRANBORNE CHASE
A LATE, LATE NIGHT, AND IT’S ALL TIM THOMAS’S FAULT
Greetings from a sunny Larmer Gardens on Cranborne Chase where I’ve reached the end of the End of the Road and the tent is packed. Back to life, back to the reality of ticking again. I told you yesterday I’d managed to avoid the homebrew, and almost made it through to close sober, but for… Continue reading A LATE, LATE NIGHT, AND IT’S ALL TIM THOMAS’S FAULT
BEAVERTOWN BANISHED, COOKING LAGER BOOMS AT THE END OF THE ROAD
I wondered what would happen to my readership if I stopped publishing new content during my 4 day music festival on the Dorset/Hants/Wiltshire border. Pleasingly, still a few people visiting hoping for pics of Old Boys drinking 6X through a straw in Shaftesbury. We’ll have to hope Mrs RM took THOSE photos as she tours… Continue reading BEAVERTOWN BANISHED, COOKING LAGER BOOMS AT THE END OF THE ROAD
“The drunks at the bar talk over the band”
“Where are your great posts on obscure modern music, retiredmartin, we love them” said no-one ever you all ask. What a good question. Last year my posts on melancholy melodies at the start of the first lockdown seemed to strike a, ahem, chord with my more discerning readers, but writing about music is about as… Continue reading “The drunks at the bar talk over the band”
MY END OF THE ROAD TAKEAWAYS
A few reflections from my 7th End of the Road Festival in Dorset. Or Salisbury, if you want to make people afraid to shake your hand. Getting that campervan was our best ever investment, saving 43 hours queueing for showers and loos over the weekend. Though dragging your tent over the stony path to the… Continue reading MY END OF THE ROAD TAKEAWAYS
WHOA, BLACK BETTY
Greetings from End of the Road, home of a 100 “Unknown Pleasures” T-shirts and a GBG19 style crisis as the onion bhajias have run out. But there’s sushi. Good news as Mrs RM finally finishes her VAT return and joins me on the Beavertown (stylised Beeverton by Mrs RM, in honour of City’s 100 points… Continue reading WHOA, BLACK BETTY
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