19 years since I lost you Maggie. Everyday a thought of you creeps in. Sometimes the good memories, sometimes the painful. Sometimes I smile. But always I miss you…
Moonage Davedream
@davva.bsky.social
Legally drunk and incapable since 1989…
It’s 30 years since I met my wife. Which means it’s almost 29 since we got married, 28 since I last saw her, 26 since we divorced. All that time has slipped away, so much troubled water under so many bridges. I do hope she is happy now, that she’s had the life she wanted. It’s the least I can do…
Just when you think that you are in the middle of the biggest cluster-fucking omnishambles on the universe all of a sudden all the gears shift and you see everybody working to a positive solution. That’s how I would describe most days working for the NHS. I live my job…
I’M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!! We’re boarding the Marrakesh express! Well, a Trans Pennine to Manchester Airport (but I’m sure the experience will be the same as North Africa in the 60’s). Then tomorrow, Morocco! And a whole new continent to annoy…
@bethanangharadl.bsky.social These are a few of my favourites (being a soppy old hippy I have a thing about hares, especially moongazer hares…)
“Bring me the snowfall, bring me the cold wind, bring me the winter…”
Done some drawing, had a bottle of wine and got hummus in my hair. By any criteria, that’s a good Sunday night…
Happy Birthday, Maggie, the years just keep ticking by, eh? For one of us at least. Love always…
Kate Rusby - Christmas Is Merry at The Barbican in York, 11-12-25…
I’M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!! Birmingham for a couple of days where I’m aiming to get some hot bedroom action. I intend to wrap myself in a duvet sleep hugely for a couple of days, rising only eat a massive greasy sausage in one or both of the Christmas markets…
A December Tuesday in York, still people knot on damp cobbles, thread through the lights robbed of their sparkle by morning bright, clear and Robin’s egg blue. For the first time this year I’m caught off guard by The Pogues, “So Happy Christmas, I miss you, baby.” For a moment a tear stings my eye…
DAVENT CALENDAR DAY 1 Hop Hut Summer Slam: Tastes like it’s made with actual Hutts. “Bo Shuda…”
Lights glitter spilling over rain slick cobblestones. And the crowds and the throng and the elbows move you by. My traditional start to Christmas, a pie and a mulled cider at St Nicholas Fair. So, here’s to us, You Cats, and a peaceful and happy season…
I mean, Maisie Adam is good looking lass anyway, with amazing legs but stick some fake sideburns on her and she’s proper lighting mi candle. I really am a weird, sad pathetic old man…
The show I’m doing just now has a section about the history of theatre and I tell a story about Maggie being confused by a panto. As I was telling it last night, a maple leaf drifted down and landed on my shoulder. If I was a deluded wet hippy type I might have got a bit misty eyed about it…
Y’know what? Fuck it! It’s November, I like mince pies and Christmas can’t come soon enough…
Today is the feast day of Crispin Chrispianus. Deo gracias Anglia rede pro victoria...
After his wife died a made him laugh, a rich and genuine laugh amidst all that unfettered grief. I’ve always been proud of that laugh. Of all the audiences I’ve stood in front of and won over, that laugh meant more to me. A quiet little sound in a roaring gale of misery…
I collared for a really rare record at a decent price a couple of months ago but haven’t played it yet. A good friend was part of the stage show for the tour it captures and it’s still a bit raw, he died earlier this year. I think this weekend though I listen and smile…
Like Arthur Dent once said, “This must be Thursday, I could never quite get the hang of Thursdays.” Working regular bankers hours lets you know why, it’s a Wednesday dressed up as a Friday. All fur coat, no knickers. Also I’ve just fumbled my “put on boots” roll and punched myself in the balls…
To the unknown, unnumbered souls who stood this day upon Senlac Hill over 900 years ago and died for the ambition of wealthy men. Hail the glorious fallen…
Today is the saints day of Edward The Confessor. The Patron Saint of England before being replaced by a foreigner…
I wonder if a mark of getting older is that people stop making you angry and just make you sad…
Windblown moments hazing, spindrift memories threaded over tides of time. Ever more remote in a sea of, lost chances, lost opportunities, lost laughter. Older now than you can ever be. Still missing you, Maggie, love always…
Why do I keep doing this to myself? Late night lager and films. “Ooh, Event Horizon! I’ve not seen that in years, I bet it’s not as scary as I remember!” Well, now I’m laying here with a full bladder afraid to go to the lavvy in case I meet Eyeless Sam Neill with he lad out…
Delightful! “You will be alerted to the oncoming apocalypse by the cosmic horror of your phone making a sound like Chris Martin fucking a Clanger in a biscuit tin…”
A Very Drunk Cowgirl weaves up to Davva. Very Drunk Cowgirl - “YOU! Are a very attractive man!” Davva - “Aw, thanks, Pet Lamb, so are you…” The Very Drunk Cowgirl walks away unsure if she really has been complimented…