Ghosts of the cacophony on Port Hampton


I never used to think this way but now I say
' Don't waste the day light indoors'



Took our bikes down memory lane
Through the strange landscape of Hampton's waterboard
Crossed the bridge to Platts Eyot/Port Hampton
The wooden slats now old and worn
I remember when they were new replacing the old and worn ones



Dan and Neil would drive the forklift over with our instruments drums and amps
And me and Kim would make sure nothing fell off in the divets bumps and ramps
Sometimes we used the boat that was more exciting



The top of the Island was not our domain
We were down the bottom end with the factories and the boats
Dan Neil and me all worked on the island
In the medieval conditions of the 1980's
Filling our lungs with plastic moulding powder and toxic fumes
And our stomaches with tea and pot noodles



One boiling hot summer we swam to molsey and back in our lunch break
Holiday barges would fill up with fuel and food at Brian De La Hunty's
Now the rats as big as small dogs scamper from behind the old pumps
With no one to frighten anymore



There's a Cornish crab canning place at the top now
And a couple of recording studio's
But the real musical history of this Island was ours
Free from those airless tombs known as rehearsal studios
Upstairs in S.B.Westons
The Bitter Springs/The Last Party
In this room...behind this window



For 15 odd years Tuesday nights was practice night
Arguments over who's turn it was to make the tea ( Dan never would)
Kim me and Dan all gave up smoking at once but Neil wouldn't
Every song was played as though it would be the last
And Our unschooled sounds
Competing only with the injection moulding machines and the night shift's radio



Hard as we tried in those sterile nerve wracked studio enviroments
Our greatest moments were here
Shared with angry boat builders ' swooping bats ' giant rats and the tired night shift
Our glorious cacophony drifting over the water to Molsey
Did they hear what we could hear ...probably not



Songs came together..fell apart .. came together again
Chrismas no1 being one that clicked instantly ..the greatest feeling when that would happen
Brilliant songs forgotten ..overlooked
The never made 3rd Last Party Album is embedded in those walls still
we were loud ...so loud ... I have 2 hearing aids now
My ears are still ringing and they always will
With The Ghosts of the cacophony on Port Hampton



With no human opposition
That tough old bag ... Mother nature
Claws her way through the concrete and man made structures
So who'll remember old Charlie
Who Even once he'd retired
Would walk all the way from Hampton Hill to bring the milk and papers over every day



And who'll Remember his catch phrase ?
' Ere where's your mate? ...  ' No not him the other one'





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