Tumbling around the web in a big mess. Picking up and dropping off bits and pieces with no clear goal, just spending a bit of time looking at stuff I like.
What do I like? Visual stuff mostly, photos and videos, a bit of music and interesting thoughts. When I say interesting, I mean interesting to me. You might be extremely bored by the whole thing, but I don't really care, because this isn't for you. It's for me.
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This page from the BBC back in 2008, called I Love 1985, has three things listed on its front page for that year; fingerless gloves, goths and zit cream.
In 1985, the Sisters of Mercy were singing about Marian (of course, the Sisters aren’t goth though), Killing Joke released Love Like Blood (look at young man, Jaz. So young, such a clean voice) and Siouxsie and the Banshees came out with Cities in Dust.
I wasn’t aware of that at the time though. I was aware of Dire Straits and that charity We Are the World song as these were big hits in Australia in 1985. Luckily I came to know better, more interesting music later on that was being made back then.
Happenings of 1985
1985 was the year the Greenpeace ship, Rainbow Warrior, was blow up by the French in New Zealand, killing photographer Fernando Pereira. It was, and still is, a rather odd thing for the French intelligence service to do and it still seems like something completely out of a fiction and not something that could really happen in calm little New Zealand by the bread-loving French. The French continued to do nuclear testing in the Mururoa Atoll until 1996, showing total disregard for this part of the world.
1985 was also the year DNA was first used in a criminal case, being used to convict Colin Pitchfork for raping and killing two girls.
How 1985 changed my life
In my world, 1985 was a big year. It was the year my brother, Jack, was born. I was devastated.
It all happened in May that year. My mum suddenly went away and I had my father looking after me and my older sister, Ruth. I wasn’t happy about that. And then we finally went to see her in the hospital, which was a big and dark place with nurses that looked disapprovingly at me as I ran down the corridor, carrying violets for my mum. But that far from the end of the ordeal as she came home with a crying, attention seeking little brother. This clearly wasn’t fair, as she was MY mother, damn it.
I used to fight with my brother a lot. We hit each other all the time, until he got bigger than me and then it was all about the verbal wins. But we do get on fine now, even if the bastard has just moved to the other side of the world from me.
