It wasn't Jenny Haan in the newsagents it was Jenny Hanley.
She's aged pretty well.
Indeed. I've had a few pints in the Crown pub in Playhatch just on the outskirts of Reading. Jenny was the landlady.
Another famous lady who I remember is Liz Hurley who drank in the Star pub in Reading where us punks used to hangout. Liz lived in Basingstoke and would come into Reading in her punk youth.
Forces have been looting
My humanity
Curfews have been curbing
The end of liberty
We're the flowers in the dustbin...
No fuchsias for you.
It wasn't Jenny Haan in the newsagents it was Jenny Hanley.
She's aged pretty well.
Indeed. I've had a few pints in the Crown pub in Playhatch just on the outskirts of Reading. Jenny was the landlady.
Another famous lady who I remember is Liz Hurley who drank in the Star pub in Reading where us punks used to hangout. Liz lived in Basingstoke and would come into Reading in her punk youth.
Liz wore the safety pins in a far better way than punks in my day did.
It wasn't Jenny Haan in the newsagents it was Jenny Hanley.
She's aged pretty well.
Indeed. I've had a few pints in the Crown pub in Playhatch just on the outskirts of Reading. Jenny was the landlady.
Another famous lady who I remember is Liz Hurley who drank in the Star pub in Reading where us punks used to hangout. Liz lived in Basingstoke and would come into Reading in her punk youth.
Liz wore the safety pins in a far better way than punks in my day did.
She wears it well.
Forces have been looting
My humanity
Curfews have been curbing
The end of liberty
We're the flowers in the dustbin...
No fuchsias for you.
“As I traveled, I came to believe that people’s desires and aspirations were as much a part of the land as the wind, solitary animals, and the bright fields of stone and tundra. And, too, that the land existed quite apart from these.”
*edit* I see he was looking for audio recordings. Not sure any have surfaced.
Look, you have to establish context for these things. And I maintain that unless you appreciate the Fall of Constantinople, the Great Fire of London, and Mickey Mantle's fatalist alcoholism, live Freddy makes no sense. If you want to half-ass it, fine, go call Simon Schama to do the appendix.
