Rivertones 5 is The Weather Clock, a long-playing record by July Skies.
Released on vinyl on 8 April, 2016 and available to pre-order here.
July Skies is: Orford Ness, lost youth, Henry Moore, pylons across fields, abandoned airfields, Avebury, endless childhood summers, forgotten England, the romance of the heavens well after closing time, Super8, countryside, mornings in May, ruins, faded innocence, post-war Britain, skies of all seasons, trudging coastlines, Festival of Britain 1951, memories made with a Polaroid Landcam 103, overgrown follies, East Anglia, concrete precincts and tower blocks, suburbia, old Ordnance Survey maps, lost airmen, rustic charm, John Nash, poppy day, a half remembered smile, 1960s artwork by Harry Wingfield, John Berry, Martin Aitchinson, C F Tunnicliffe, Ronald Lampitt, BST, municipal parks at dusk, love, infatuation and loss. (more…)
Here are the results of our latest newsletter competition:
We had a pair of tickets to Cycle Revolution at the Design Museum to give away.
We asked: In 2014, Nick Hand and Robin Mather built a bicycle capable of carrying a small printing press. Starting in Bristol, they cycled it through Europe: but which city was their final destination, the home of modern printing?
And the answer is: Mainz, Germany. The winner is James Timmons. Your tickets are on their way. (more…)
The A470, near Pen y Fan, Brecon, as people enjoyed the snow in the Brecon Beacons National Park. Photo: Ben Birchall/PA Wire
January started in a place that couldn’t seem further from Wales. I hadn’t left Europe in a decade, settled into the relationship with home and routine that comes, at least at first, with children. My ex-partner – their father – had been going to Goa annually since the early Nineties for an upside-down detox of raving and after a hiatus last year, when his mother was very ill, suggested that we all go together. It was an unlikely family holiday: beyond the banyan tree where we parked the battered jeep, and where the chatter of invisible monkeys rose at dawn and dusk, a steady thud of electronic music filled the air. (more…)
for cushioned nights of thunder and thick air
when all the floodgates of the sky have burst
and drench the town in summer storms
enriched by rising dust from roads and pollen
from the wetted heads of honeysuckle and catchfly
one small sheltered corner, nooked between the trellis
and the compost bin, keeps a lee of pale grey stone
beyond the reach of the darkening rain
where the curl of leaf is not plastered to the ground
and a bright-eyed animal stays perfectly dry
its powdery fur as pale and patient as the moon
(which also waits and watches from behind the cloud
for the melodrama of the orange light
to blow itself out, and come to sleep) (more…)