Skipton Removals

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A Year OF DRINK DRIVING.

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A YEAR OF DRINK DRIVING.

Self employment…

After dissolving my pub company Our Bar Ltd, and going through bankruptcy in 2015. I never thought I would ever go self employed again…but I have, and I do not mind admitting, it was something I struggled with personally, mentally, socially even and on any kind of professional level.

At one time I spent every day, of every week, of that year’s…

You just don’t Remember The 80s Like, I remember The 80s…

Fucking taken me thirty years to think of this but…I have not changed.

I was an horrible pill popping speed snorting violent savage type in the 8Os.

The happiest days of my life.

Then the fucking 90s kicked in and E.

An everyone was loved up mashed up danced up and fucked up in a loving way.

I hated it.

Now finally, thirty years later… SEE I WAS RIGHT.

Everyone is back…

CONNY’S CAVETOWN CAPERS

Conny’s Cave-Town Comments…Someone is walking on my grave.

I went onto see my big brother, David the t’other day. There is a good pub, The Roebuck nearby, cracking for hand pulled, so we often do, then try a few after.

That is, myself my t’other big brother, so Conny & I.

We are landowner’s you know? Doubt v muchly The Duke of Devonshire or Skipton Properties have to start worrying about…

A Land of Hope & Something Else.

CAVE-TOWN

A Land Of Hope & Nothing Else

A land of hope and nothing else, something CCTV does not see.

All I see is the frost as grows from dew, on a blade of green grass.

It grows stem upwards, the frost turning a green blade white, as the night is erased by bright daylight.

I watch motionless, not capable of movement no not a blink, all I can do is think. The wooden park bench is not cold…

Last of The Summer’s Cider.

IP BRIAN MADDOX RIP NEBBY

  CAVETOWN CAPERS

  LAST OF THE SUMMER CIDER.

  It is without doubt, them there older end, the t’old uns whose stories, quotes and pontificating cannot be published in our towns local paper, The Keighley News.

Oh no no no, it is without them that still inspire.

  The crazy kooky capers of the men and ladies o’t town, who gave the place a spirit we will never see the…

Life is amazing, where we see our life’s work in the creased twinkle of our children’s basic smile. So life is basic, where a day spent with a lover on a sofa, vegging, connecting, synching together. A place together cruelly changed by a text, a phone call or a knock at the door. So life is cruelelty in it’s highest form, yet tut-tor says misery must be abandoned. I will not transgress then on…

Cavetown Capers.

It was a lovely sunny July evening in 1987, when I arrived in my new home. HM Prison Leeds, known lovingly as Clopper Castle or Armerleyville The House on The Hill.

This was to be my first of several visits to, Armlies notorious B-Wing for Young Prisoner’s…where the screws beat you for no reason and hardened hairy arsed institutionalized convicts like, Paul Sykes dry bummed YPs.

CAVE-TOWN

CHAP 1 CONNOR

  So I said…

“Hey up young Connor, you alright?”

The Connor in question, is a plump, seven year old, heavy set little brick wall of a lad. He lives with his Yorkshire-Irish family, bigger than his age hides, compared to his playmates he looks ten say maybe even passing for eleven.

The Connor in question, plays out on the streets in our Cave-Town, after school and all…

I once survived an earthquake. Well a tremor, remember them they had in Manchester in the 90s…nothing to do with drugs or guns or dance music no. Actual tremors. We were in a pub Johnny and I… I was in the loo and thought maybe it was me in the thunderbox just doing my thing. You know making the earth move. Erm no not that…so I walks back into the bar theres car alarms alarming and news flashes…

CAVETOWN CAPERS ( Blog ) Chap 2. So I said…”He is the fucking Devil in my life” in my prayers, every night for 15 years… “Please God make him die, oh, ok maybe not die, mum would be upset, ( but no fucker else would ) how about… … he gets arrested for stealing charity boxes from shops in Bingley… … and has to choose, go to prison or, join The British Army and fuck off away for oh, lets say 22…