My new novel is called Drum. It's available as a Kindle and Paperback. You can buy it by clicking on the homepage link on my website. My website is here.
https://www.rob-chapman.com
Rob Chapman
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That bit 5.40 into Amygdala on the first Henry Cow LP. Fred Frith's lovely melancholic guitar, that's the bit. That's exactly what walking round Cambridge on an unseasonably wet June morning sounded like in 1973 when you were 19.
Talking about not being into extreme sports with Waggy and he said "if I wanted to feel that level of anxiety I'd take three bong rips and take a call from my mum". The man has the soul of a poet.
When it comes down to it, social media as a virtual pub is still the best working analogy I have. And if it bored me in a pub then it's pretty certain it will bore me on here. I'll be in the snug.
One more Cambridge pic. Probably last walked through those doors in 1973 to see Henry Cow and Faust, still one of the best half dozen gigs I've ever witnessed. Oh wait. It might have been Rory Gallagher the following year.
Place gets more like the place where I've just closed my account every day. Please continue to flood my feed with your angst and woe and your elevated thoughts on politics and current events. Or preferably unfollow me. x
Henderson's Relish. Yorkshire's best kept secret. When we lived in Manchester we used to order it by post. It came by parcel carefully packaged in old cereal boxes.
Buy Chloe's Beatles drawings. Take it from someone who has. They are bloody fab.
Flaming June
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5-G...
"So would you mind just standing in the doorway for a minute longer against the sun because I'm writing a poem about intersections" - Veronica Forrest-Thomson. Died at 27. Overdose. One of the great forgotten voices of British experimental poetry.
