Tag Archives: Stoke-on-Trent

Swiss Tony

Is a lugubrious individual and as such I’m tipping him to be a star of the documentary film. He wasn’t expecting to see me, but that didn’t stop him from turning on a sixpence to give the customary Stokie salutation … Continue reading

Posted in It Cracks Like Breaking Skin | Tagged , , | 17 Comments

Stoke-on-Trent, today

What a magical place it is. I’m going to make a documentary movie on 35mm film with people talking and music.

Posted in It Cracks Like Breaking Skin | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

Little moments to cherish

Or as TS Eliot had it: these fragments I will shore against my ruins. I was just thinking about this time a year or so back when I mentioned to these mates from Stoke about how I’d done this reading … Continue reading

Posted in The Final Days of Marvin Gaye | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Guilty pleasures

I was looking at a track list for the Radcliffe and Maconie show to see who sang Travelling Light, a track I caught the end of in the kitchen one night last week; in the usual way (or rather, unusual … Continue reading

Posted in From Working-Class Hero to Absolute Disgrace (A Memoir | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments

Hello, Hello, Stokie aggro, Stokie aggro**

In the aftermath of this meet up where two gangs of school kids – apparently including a number of Somalis* – arranged to rumble at Victoria Station, and where a boy died from a stabbing, I’ve heard a certain amount … Continue reading

Posted in From Working-Class Hero to Absolute Disgrace (A Memoir | Tagged , , , | 14 Comments

By popular demand: Jasper!

Testimonial, as supplied by ‘”Old” Stokie’ On Destruction: The count up to yet is my stair carpet (which was knackered anyway and needs replacing), a piece taken out of the hearth rug, my mobile phone charger which I stupidly left … Continue reading

Posted in Along Came Dylan, Fetching Dylan, Walking Ollie | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Waiting For Bungalow

This is lifted from Old Stokie’s contribution to the thread below. I admire it’s Beckettian qualities, by which I mean it’s spare rhythmic prose, it’s claustrophobia and it’s absurd sense of reality. The lingo is just how people used to … Continue reading

Posted in From Working-Class Hero to Absolute Disgrace (A Memoir | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments