I'd seen various stickers advertising this event over the past few weeks, but I was in two minds as to go or not because of the weather. As it turned out, the clouds held during the day (though it was a little windy) and I went there straight after work. As the organisers had appropriated the classic anarchist logo, most of the crowd in the park were punks or crusties (there were mohicans and dogs on strings aplenty!). Walking near the main stage was an extremely provocative banner of the Queen, the Queen Mother and Prince Charles with their heads impaled on spikes draped at the front. "'Scuse, please," I said to a lady sporting the classic "Siouxie Sioux" look (dyed black spiky crimped hair, Cleopatra eyeshadow, D.M.'s, black leggings and miniskirt) who sat right alongside it, "I just want a pic for me to stick in the family album." Smirking as she shifted over to the side allowing me to get a better view, this is the pic I took below (oh well, there goes my knighthood!).
Just to prove that in this sceptred
isle, not everyone's gushing at the thought of the nation's favourite granny
doing her ton-up, here's a sticker I was given wishing Granny Windsor all
the best on the big day (not!). Some would say that the sentiments expressed
below were callous and uncalled for, others would say that being from the
family she's in makes her a legitimate target. Harsh? Unfair? Decide for
Turning around from where I was,
I came across a dreadlocked and uniquely dressed individual sporting a
kilt, bumble bee leggings, basketball top (a Florida Suns one, but don't
quote me on that) with badges aplenty on his jacket and v.kooky sunglasses.
He was flattered that I'd have wanted to snap him, and here he is below.
Here's the first of two bands
that I saw on the main stage. I never thought I'd see so many old punks
gathered in one place at the same time (strictly cider and safety pins!).
Today, Clissold Park had gone through a time warp
to the summer of '77.
Right at the front of the stage,
I spotted a bloke who from the look of him, must be a v. sound sleeper
despite the fact that the band behind him had their music cranked up to
11. I couldn't help chuckling to myself as I snapped this pic.
I felt a tap on my shoulder
and who should I see, but a bloke I knew from the old Rainbow Centre called
Sam Crow. As well as being there with a lady he knew from an eco-site located
in Wandsworth he lived on around four years ago named Fraggle, he'd brought
along an eight-week old puppy he'd named Maff (hope that's the right spelling).
We all walked around the stalls and sat in the grass listening to some
folk music coimg from a tent nearby. While we were there, Fraggle found
a SCHQUALL book (the best of SCHnews and SQUALL magazines) left nearby,
while Maff enjoyed the attention showered upon her by various children
and adults ("Aaaah, she's ever so cute! You don't if I give her a stroke
do, you?" was a common refrain we heard where we sat). Walking back to
the main stage, we found another band on stage turning it out. Here they
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