Shuttlecock Foundry’s Guides to Navigate Modern Times and its Many, Varied Concepts and Conjections Chapter First: The Optimal Position For Blue Sky Thinking – ‘Known for his ability to smash complexity with a large hammer, Foundry’s Books are heaven-sent in peculiar times when little makes sense’ – Perametra Bliss, Country Well Magazine

Well. This is a pretty poor attempt at both art and humour. It’s meant to be about there being thin lines everywhere (not rain) and none noticing apart from a poodle and so maybe it’s touching on not being aware enough to see what’s in plain sight, or technology stealing our attention to the present. Who knows? Who cares? There’s far too much crammed into the page, which makes it off-putting and unappealing to look at, but we can all just pretend it’s okay and get on with the next thing. Yes.

little matchbox scene ~ Seabird Saloon

travel and sing

The Donkey Band play thursdays at the Seabird Saloon. And every thursday’s different – like the seasons have gotten all jumbled up and the tiny world inside that warm bar, is sometimes turbulent, sometimes peaceful as daisy fields, but always, always, it’s like you’ve stepped into a different world completely.

The singer, Donkey, plays ukulele, sometimes while dancing wild as wood fire. She fills the room with sounds and smiles. Drinks get spilt, but people stay grinning.

Lokey on piano only comes out his small shed-house to play here on thursdays. Then he soars. He can make a piano sound like wind, rain and all your best memories. He won’t talk though, but likes to be given a tot of berry gin at the end of the night. Rumours frill around the edges of the saloon that he loves Donkey bigger than that mountain ten miles east. But there’s nothing…

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I didn’t think it necessary to give this piece a title as it would give away what the picture’s about and also just be repetitive. So I’ll sing instead: Laaa La Weeeeeeeeeeeee Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaleedoodledoo

“I’m going where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain. Going where the weather suits my clothes.”

Banking off of the northeast winds
Sailing on a summer breeze
And skipping over the ocean like a stone

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