Dear England

"Sometimes you've gotta start clean, you gotta begin, not begin again"

I am finding my beginning now.  

I'm done with you England, it's over.   

I'll start looking for my own place.  

We can still be friends x 

There Is No God

At this very moment in time I am sat in a B&B in a place called Banff, Alberta in Canada. The B&B in question has been a huuuge letdown in terms of it's being shit when it was widely believed to be fantastic.

The saving grace being that it does indeed have wireless access so I can hassle all of you in my more bored moements at 6am your time. I don't even know what the time here is because I can't be fucked to keep changing my watch, all I know for sure is that it is somewhere between 10ish and 12ish. I can't be bothered to go venturing out into this house to find out.

Anyway, we're in a rather small area of town and it's full of tourist tat shops and shit like that aimed at us morons and our dollars. But what is astounding about this place is that about 80% of its population are seriously beautiful. I'm not talking a little bit, I am talking about stunningly gorgeous. It's not fair. At all. Where are all the people who look like this in England? Why can't we have people this amazing? And why the fuck are they all so friendly?

Because they are Canadians, that's why. They are inherently nice and somehow all genetically gorgeous. The other 20% of the town is comprised of the elderly and tourists. I haven't seen one uggo here other than when I accidentally caught sight of myself in a relective shop window. It is amazing. Upon thinking I was entering a small town in the middle of the Rockies I was more expecting something in between Deliverence and The Hills Have Eyes. So ultimatly I have concluded that there is in fact no God, or if there is, he's Canadian.

And he particularly dislikes us Brits.

I wish I was Canadian....but then again, who says I won't be one in the not-so-distant future?



Love and hugs from a shitty bed and breakfast in the mountains,

Bagman x

Jumping off a bridge is not a natural action for a body

I discovered yesterday that despite mental preperation, jumping off a 150 ft bridge is just not a natural action for your body to perform.  

I got to the edge of the plank and paranoia sets in.  You can barely move your feet and you have to shuffle right the edge.  All I was thinking was 'this rope is quite heavy.  I can feel it tugging my ankles, if I get too close I might fall....it might drag me over!'.....it's a bungee jump, I PAID to fall.  

I looked over the edge and my knees shook a bit.  I was supposed to be jumping with my cohort Nicola but sadly she did the sensible thing and declined upon seeing it.  I looked down at the water and I thought I could do it, I thought it would all be ok, I was ready, I said I was ready for the jump, they did my count down.  

Then a strange thing happened, my mind said 'jump' and my body said 'NOOO FUCKING WAY', the result of which was me flailing on the edge of a plank where my knees bent ready for the jump but didn't tip me forward and my arms only got halfway above my head before stumbling backwards.  Not cool.  Anyway, the bungee guy said to stare at the top of the trees and lean forward on the count of 3, so I complied and miraculously, I actually jumped.  I didn't bottle it as I'm sure most of you thought I would!

The strange thing is that the second I was off the bridge there was no fear, it was just freeedom as I fell.  It was fucking brilliant!!!

Ultimately it's only scaring when you're on a big fucking bridge looking down.  The moment you jump, time stands still.  

And for those of you who doubt me, wait for the bungee issue of Free Hug or check the vid on FB (http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=139603056150).  

Love and hugs from Canada peeps 

x

Free Hug Issue 2 - August 09

Strange people

Round where I live there are lots of people.  

You might think that everybody is a little strange in their own ways, but there's a club here called the Ag and it's where everybody who is slightly different comes to rock out and drink snakebite.  

I was sat on the wall outside as I waited for my friends to arrive to see Skindred (if you haven't heard them, check them out).  The venue is right on a main road and every single car that drives past makes a point of slowing down and staring out the windows at us, like we're some sort of freak show.  

That said, there are some strange people inside.  At the end of the night, about 2am, I was stood gazing into space and pondering something that I'm sure stemmed from 'should I get another shot?' when I saw a hand come waving across my vision.  

I looked down to see a short young lady covered in those little glowing tubes that you bend and connect.  Glow sticks if you will.  

Anyway, she holds a big yellow one out to me nodding and smiling.  I accepted, pleased to acquire a new toy.  She put it round my wrist and I was half expecting some conversation - instead she turned to her friend, grabbed her pint of snakebite, threw it back in her own face and then stalked away to the dance floor.  I looked over at her friend who just said "don't worry, she does stuff like that all the time".  

I love strange people.  

I think they see me as one of their own.