The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Sunday, 19 April 1987

Jez Lives

It’s 3am.

‘The Court of the Crimson King’ – King Crimson

Ritcherd is dead – Jez lives!

Now we are back at the Villas, absolutely despising Bosley Boswell (also known as THE FRIDGE).  I’m thinking of BMW, and I can’t get over her.  Flash’s started thinking about Manda again.  And I think ‘The Court of the Crimson King’ by King Crimson is ace.  And I could float away on a cloud of ecstasy with BMW in my arms…

Why did I fuck it all up?  I could cry for the lost love.

Flash’s going to write a letter to her for me, asking her to communicate with me; tell me if she loves – eh? – I mean likes me at all.  Maybe we could be friends still?  Or find out if she hates me.

It’s over a year since we last spoke.  What a life.  What a fucking life.

I’m in Flash’s room and I’m peaceful thanks to the good old Crimson noise coming from Flash’s twurly box of louds.

But my love is still unrequieted.

Me ‘n’ Flash: we are the Vibe Brothers!


‘Ignore the Machine (Electrode Mix)’ – Alien Sex Fiend

Jez ‘n’ Flash: ‘Let’s do the Bosley Boswell!’ (a dance…)

And the whole wide galaxy turned into a Fridge.  Yo-ho-ho!

Well.  Do you want to know what we’ve done today? 

Well, raeght early in the morning we got a few hours’ sleep.  Then, when we resurfaced, we both went down to my step-Grandmother’s flat.  This is Paul’s mum and Jack’s Grandma Jones.  The journey there was interesting, as it began to rain, and the black spray in Flash’s hair was threatening to drip all over the place.  So he wore his jacket over his head.  At Grandma Jones’s flat, we saw Paul (Jack’s dad) who was really pleased to see us, and he wasn’t as low and depressed as I had expected him to be.  In fact, he looked and seemed really well.  We all chatted real nice, but then Paul had to go and see Mick Micklethwaite (a friend of our family from the era when we were The Joneses, i.e. 19741978), but he’s asked us to meet him at the Willow Park Hotel at 8pm where he will buy us some drinks.  Flash and I were quite chuffed at the invitation.  We’d intended getting willy-babbered as this is going to be my last evening here.

‘Lips Can’t Go’ – Alien Sex Fiend

After Paul had gone, Flash and I went to my Gran + Granddad Pritchard’s, where we were generously welcomed. 

Next stop was the house of… BOSLEY!  We went there to get our Situation tapes back, even tho’ Flash felt he couldn’t face her.  He was lucky as it turned out, because she wasn’t in.  Then we decided to visit Manda Jones, as Flash’s desire to see her has been resurrected.  Alas, she too was not in.  This also pissed me off, as I thought it would’ve been nice to see her again.  Then it pissed the fuck out of the Heavens so Flash and I came in to listen to records by ASF, Shop Assistants, Ghost Dance and Zodiac Motel, all of who are fuckin’ brilliant.


‘Dancing Barefoot’ – Patti Smith

Tonite, Flash expressed the wish that we should write some serious songs together, but we ended up writing some stupidity for the BTC cassettes!

As time progressed, we ate and then set off for the Willow Park Hotel.  On the way there, Flash had a go at me about my paranoia of getting beaten up.  I still haven’t really let go of what happened to me ‘n’ Martin in 1985, but Flash says I should.  He was right, I suppose.  I shouldn’t really give a toss!

In The Willow, we met Paul, who was with his ‘mates’ Clive and Bob Ambleside.  Clive + Bob took the piss out of Flash’s and my appearance, but I couldn’t be arsed to rise to it.  We were there to see Paul and I wasn’t going to have the evening ruined by narrow-minded idiots. 


Where does tha live?


Round’t’ back o’t’ Queen’s Hotel.


What?  In a skip?

Anyway. Paul kept us both in a constant supply of booze, and Bob turned out to be okay in the end (once Clive had gone up town). 

Apparently, Bob used to work with Betty in Ponty, around 1972.  Shock, eh?

Another thing: Paul’s dad (Jack Sr.) used to beat Paul + his mum and walked out on them when Paul was seven.  Bad that, innit?  I feel sorry for him.  And it must’ve been awful for him when Betty left him for George.  To have his four-year-old son taken away from him.  It must’ve taken him back to his dad leaving him.  The sense of failure must’ve been enormous, and it wasn’t even his fault…

After the pub shut, we went to Paul’s flat, which was ace and a laugh and I taped loads of late 60s/early 70s records of his.

[Images subject to control of individual Copyright Holders including works originated by Elton Townend Jones, but excluding any images or design attributed to ‘The Situation’ which are copyright of The Situation (see specific acknowledgements in the ‘Thanks to…’ section below) / Based on true events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the late 20th century, this blog is a work of fiction. Cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is non-profit; all video clips are used for illustrative purposes and always come from YouTube / No copyright infringement is intended – just trying to get things into context. Never forget: no man is an island. If you think anything I’ve used is damaging you in any way, please comment and immediate action will be taken to minimise offence / This notice was amended on 13 July 2011 and is intended to cover this and all posts on that precede it]

NEXT TIME: ‘Easter Monday…

No comments:

Post a Comment