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whispermask · 2 years ago

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gasoline in your heart ch.7/10 | ghost/soap/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ next | ch wc: 4.1k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule)

preview: A memory comes to him, almost comical in its timing, of texting König on Soap’s phone the previous night. Just as he’s turning to look at Soap, Soap’s eyes are snapping up to find Simon’s. They speak at the same time.

“What did you do?”

“I can explain.”

* this chapter features a depiction of a traumatic childhood flashback of a verbally abusive parent in addition to a non-graphic car accident, proceed with care

Simon dreams.

Unlike before, he recognizes his surroundings. Christmas 1989, he’s nine years old, soon to be ten in one week, on New Year’s Day, his birthday.

He’s at his mum’s flat with his brother Tommy in Manchester. His mum had gone on holiday to Mallorca with Albert, the fifty-something man she had met at the restaurant where she was a server. That was three weeks ago.

Since they’ve left, it’s been him and Tommy alone in the flat. They’re watching telly as the sun dips below the horizon and the shadows grow longer. The dingy apartment smells of mildew and rot. Simon can’t remember the last time he’s worn clean clothes.

Tommy, who’s twelve, is nearly asleep on the cushion beside him, head falling forward on his chest. Simon considers kicking him awake. He’s hungry, they haven’t eaten a real meal in at least a week, and even then it was someone else’s half-eaten Maccy’s that Tommy had found in the rubbish bin. But a sleeping Tommy is a Tommy who’s not finding new ways to torture Simon. His latest shtick: a skull mask, the vacant eyes following Simon into his nightmares.

Outside, it starts to rain.

Simon hears heavy boots in the hall, hopes for a moment it’s his mum and Albert. The door knob rattles, jarring Tommy awake.

“Boys!” Their father’s call comes through the door “Open the door! Tommy! Open the fucking door right now!”

Tommy rises, always obedient. He hates their father too, but hates Albert even more. At least their dad’s a real man, Tommy had reasoned, unlike Albert who collects porcelain cat figurines and thinks the military is a waste of taxpayer’s pounds.

With the door unlocked, their father shoves his way in, knocking Tommy against the wall as he enters.

“Gather your shite, we’re leaving,” father says. He’s pissed, words slurred and movements lacking coordination. Tommy moves towards their room, Simon not far behind.

Tommy catches his eye while they’re in the bedroom shoving clothes into threadbare backpacks. Simon shrugs, knows their dad wouldn’t take no for an answer either way. Better to follow along and hope that’s enough to please him.

“That’s good, let’s go,” father says, bursting into the bedroom.

“But dad, my–” Tommy starts.

“Forget it, I’ll buy you another one.” Their father stalks out. Tommy and Simon shoulder their bags and follow him, eyes to the ground.

In the car, their Father drives steadily, betraying nothing. A professional drunk, he once labeled himself. You’d never know if he was inebriated unless he wanted you to. Simon begs to differ.

“Where are we going?” Simon asks, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet cabin.

“Whereve the fuck I like,” their father snaps.

“Can we get something to eat?” Tommy asks. “I’m starving.”

“Don’t say that! Don’t fucking say that!” A hair trigger every time. “You don’t know what starving is, boys. You’ve never wanted for anything in your lives. I won’t hear it.”

“Sorry,” Tommy says.

“It’s a lie, is what it is, Tommy. And you know how I feel about liars.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Lie to me again and I’ll give you something to be sorry for.”

They drive in silence for another mile. Simon looks out the window, imagines he’s with his mum in Mallorca eating oysters and drinking Martinelli’s.

“Hey, here’s an idea.” Their father’s voice is soft now, cajoling. Maybe it was guilt once, but Simon knows better. “What if we went out for a nice family supper, huh? We’ll pick your mum up from work and go to–”

“Mum’s in Mallorca,” Simon interrupts. He has no patience for this game.

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s been in Mallorca for ages, her and Albert–” Tommy says.

“Albert?”

“Mum’s erm… mum’s friend, right Simon?”

“If by ‘friend’ you mean ‘boyfriend,’ then yeah. She’s with a friend in Mallorca.”

“What the fuck did you say, Si?”

“I said, Albert’s mum’s boyfriend. They’ve been going together for a few months, or summat.”

“That fucking cunt,” his father says, anger rising behind his dark eyes. Simon watches them flit from side to side in the rearview mirror. He’s driving faster now, taking tight turns that cause the brothers to fall into each other in the backseat. Simon can feel the wheels slip-sliding on the road, the rain relentless on the windshield. “Where does that bitch get off? Here I am, taking her sons out to dinner on Christmas while she’s in fucking Menorca–”

“Mallorca,” Simon says.

“The fuck did you just say? Don’t correct me.” Their father nearly hits a group of pedestrians on the street, Simon hears one of them shout ‘Oi!’ as they speed by.

“No, Menorca’s a place, but they’re in Mallorca. She’s divorcing you either way so why do you care?”

“Simon, hasn’t anyone taught you how to know when to shut your mouth?” He’s really gaining speed now, easily fifteen kilomoeters faster than he should be going.

“Not really, no,” Simon snaps. Realizes his mistake immediately.

“Dad slow down!” Tommy says as they run through an intersection without stopping, the screech of tires and blare of horns loud in Simon’s ears as they fly past.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Tommy. Don’t you even dare to try it. I will cut you down so fast–”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees approaching headlights, far too close to the car than they should be. Tommy screams.

Simon jerks awake, breath ragged in his throat and loud in the silence. He sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, puts his head between his knees. He feels the car accident in his body, somatic memories that hold the shock and agony at how suddenly it had happened, how quickly it was over. He’d regained consciousness to detritus scattered across the pavement, their car lying on its side with it’s hazards flashing, the smell of petrol on the wet road. What upsets him the most is that it wasn’t even the worst thing his dad has done, doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. And yet, terror sinks its ugly claws into his heart and squeezes. Doesn’t relent.

He can’t fucking breathe.

He feels big, gentle hands on his back. Simon flinches, knocking the hands away.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s me,” Soap whispers. “Can I touch you?” Simon jerks his head, once. Soap tries again, one palm against his shoulder and the other rubbing big, slow circles on his back. Simon doesn’t shake him off this time. Concentrates on the feeling of Soap’s warm palms, chases the circle as his breathing evens out and the room goes quiet again.

Soap pulls on his arm. Simon can hear the question on the tip of his tongue. He keeps his head lowered as Soap lays him down, head cradled on Soap’s chest. Soap runs sweet fingers through his hair, doesn’t ask any questions.

“Sometimes,” Simon starts, loud in the silence. Then, softer, “Sometimes I have nightmares. But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a flashback.”

“Something that happened on a mission?”

“No, never. Bothers me actually. I’ve killed men with my bare hands, and it’s not them I see when I close my eyes.”

“Somethihng that happened when you were a lad, then?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he drifts somewhere with no name, a place half-alive, dark and cold. Silent. The terror abates as he listens to Soap’s even breathing, the brag of his heart beneath his ear. He thinks maybe Soap falls asleep again.

The sun rises through the windows behind the bed frame, casting the room in a soft, powder blue light. The day taking its first breath in.

Soap stirs beneath him and Simon comes back to himself. He runs fingers through the short, dark hairs in the middle of Soap’s chest, petting. Soap opens his eyes, smiles down at Simon.

“Hi,” Soap says, sweet as anything.

Simon’s response is to lean up on his arm and kiss Soap, a little bit awed.

The kiss stays slow and tender, with Simon settled half-leaning over Soap, his hand on the pillow next to Soap’s head. The night before replays in his mind: feeling each other up in the kitchen, their frenzied fucking in the shower. He wonders what it’ll be like now that they have all this time to theirselves, wants the opportunity to explore Soap’s body, what he does and doesn’t like, what makes him go fucking crazy. Soap’s lost the soiled shirt in the night, now lies completely naked in the bed. Simon runs a hand from Soap’s jaw down to his pec, cups it and feels the cold metal of the piercing as he moves to cover Soap with his body completely, shoving a corded thigh between Soap’s.

A phone buzzes on the nightstand. They ignore it, until it buzzes again. And again. Soap sighs as he breaks the kiss to roll over and fumble for his phone. It could be Laswell or Price, possibly Shephard, the bastard.

Simon’s looking for his phone, doesn’t remember bringing it upstairs with them. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s seen it since they left the airport, when he had texted Soap that his plane had touched down.

A memory comes to him, almost comical in its timing, of texting König on Soap’s phone. Just as he’s turning to look at Soap, Soap’s eyes are snapping up to find Simon’s.

“What did you do?”

“I can explain,” Simon says.

Simon nurses a cup of black coffee. He’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island and watching Soap who’s busy making them breakfast, angrily whipping eggs before pouring them into a heated skillet with a sizzle. He’s got bread in the toaster, bacon cooking in the oven. The studio smells like lazy mornings.

Coffee’s not his preference, but Soap hadn’t even offered tea. Made it abundantly clear that Simon would get what he gets, and to shut the hell up about the rest.

“Tell me again,” Soap said. “Maybe I’ll be less angry, now that I’ve had coffee.”

“I texted König,” Simon says.

“Uh-huh.”

“Last night. After you fell asleep. On your phone.”

“Yep.”

“And told him to come to Edinburgh.”

Soap considers. “Nope. Still angry.”

“You should really have a passcode.”

“Ye're aff yer heid,” Soap says, turning around to face him. “It goes without saying that you shouldn’t open someone’s else’s phone without their permission.”

“Right.” Simon sips his coffee.

“This isn’t something you get to decide for yourself.” He waves the eggy spatula in Simon’s face as he lectures. “You cannae just invite my—“

“What? Your boyfriend?” Simon asks, words barbed without his permission.

“And there it is! I thought it bothered you that he and I… mess around.”

“But it’s more than that, innit? Don’t deny it, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know that. You don’t think I know that?” Soap puts his hands on his hips. The picture of righteousness.

“I didn’t say that, I was just—“ Simon backpedals.

“No! We’re talking about this now. I didnae make you talk yesterday, but I’m asking now, and I don’t want to be defensive. I just want to understand why?”

“Because,” Simon starts. Stops.

“Because…?”

“Because I— care for you. I like being with you.” He feels his face grow hot at the admission.

“You like being with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Soap turns to the stove, fluffs the eggs. Simon can see the back of his neck and his ears grow red from where he’s seated.

“And I didn’t—don’t think I should let someone else stand in the way of that. Don’t think I can.”

“Simon, I don’t expect you to be okay with this. Not everyone is built for… that.”

A pause. Then, Simon says, “When’s he get here?”

“Tomorrow, bright and early. I’ll have to check the itinerary, but I think his flight gets in at oh eight hundred.” Soap spoons the finished eggs onto a shallow dish. The toaster dings, the oven timer trills. Simon rises to grab the tray of bacon while Soap butters their toast.

“Before I sent that picture, was the plan to have him here for New Year’s?”

“Yeah,” Soap says. “But–”

“Then he should get to be here, still, it’s not right that I should take his place.” Simon’s movements become short and quick as he uses tongs to move the bacon from the tray to a plate, feeling frustration rising in him. If Soap had asked, Simon would’ve told him not to renege on his New Year’s Eve plans with König to pander to Simon’s hurt feelings.

“It was his choice,” Soap says.

Simon pauses, stares at Soap, face blank. A strip of bacon falls from the tongs to the floor.

“Shite,” Simon whispers. Bends to pick it up, inspects it. Eats the whole strip in one bite. Soap has the decency to look affronted.

“You don’t believe me?” Soap asks, incredulous. “I wouldn’t have ever told him not to come, but he insisted, saying I needed this. You did too.”

They gather the food and bring everything to the island, where plates and utensils are already set out. Simon sits close to Soap, so that their hips are just barely touching. He wonders if Soap is bothered by the lack of elbow room, but then Soap hooks his ankle around Simon’s under the counter, holding him in place as if he sensed he was about to move away.

They eat in comfortable silence, a temporary truce. Soap reaches over him to steal some of his still-steaming coffe, having finished his own. Simon places a hand on his knee when he leans out of Soap’s way to accommodate his reach. He doesn’t move it when Soap’s done.

“How did you two meet?” Simon asks.

Soap regards him out of the corner of his eye, and decides he sees earnestness and not accusation on Simon’s face.

“A decade ago, we were in the same field hospital. Stationed in Sierra Leone,” Soap says around a mouthful of toast and eggs.

“What’re the odds of that,” Simon says.

“Nonexistent, to be totally fucking honest. This was before SAS, I was still Lance Corporal MacTavish. We were there helping local authorities with Colombian drug cartels. I took a nasty hit from a sniper, two centimeters from my femoral artery. He’d shattered the bones in his foot, something about dropping a crate of warheads.”

Simon snorts, is about to make a derisive comment, but Soap’s eyes look fond as he speaks so he instead asks, “What else?”

“He was so… himself. Charming, vibrant. Not always, not around everyone. We spent a lot of time together that summer, did PT together.”

“Would’ve liked to see that. Can’t imagine you being a very good patient in PT.”

“You’d be right,” Soap laughs. “Believe it or not, I’ve mellowed over the last ten years.”

“That has yet to be seen,” Simon replies. Soap nudges Simon’s shoulder with his own in mock offense. Simon squeezes his knee, encouraging.

“I wasn’t doing well when I met him. Like, mentally,” Soap continues. “My Dad had just passed, I was deployed when it happened, delayed going home when he was sick. I didnae know how to deal with it, or where to find that strength.”

Soap’s eyes go unfocused, staring at something only he can see. Simon moves the hand on Soap’s knee up to his shoulder, and then around to pull him even closer, so Simon can hold him through the hard part.

“And I wasn’t out yet,” Soap says. “Not to my family. Dad had found me with a boy from school when I was fourteen. Told me not to tell anyone, especially my Ma. At least until after he died because he couldn’t bear to live with a gay son. Then he did die and I felt nothing, no sadness. No joy. Not even relief. Nothing.”

Simon can relate, remembering the day he got the call that his Father had finally shuffled off this mortal coil, not with a bang but with a liver long since failed. It had been a surreal experience, had rocked him to his core if he’s being totally honest with himself.

“So I was reckless. I put myself in harm's way when I shouldn’t have. Learned a lot of hard lessons too late. Klaus… pulled me out of that, showed me patience and kindness at a time when I was full of piss and vinegar. Angry. At everyone, at myself most of all. My world was in black and white, and then I met him and I was seeing in color again. It was… heady.”

Soap pauses, looks at Simon, waiting for him to ask.

“How did you…?” Simon ventures.

“Start fucking?”

“To put it crassly, yeah.”

“It wasn’t until a few years later that we… got together. We stayed in touch after Sierra Leone. Texted sometimes, called each other on our respective birthdays, went out to dinner once when we were both in London.”

Simon’s finished eating, starts picking at Soap’s plate, who lets him. “It’s not very often SAS crosses paths with KSK,” he comments, hoping to encourage Soap to keep sharing.

“We were put on assignment together in Serbia, twenty-fifteen. A two-man job. I was entry-SAS by that point. It was a clean up job, stealth op turned covert battering ram mission after the captain of the originally assigned task force betrayed his unit and shot them all dead, then tried to sell intel to the opposition. We were on the road together for three days straight, couldn’t fly to the drop without drawing attention.

“And then, we succeeded in apprehending the rogue captain, recovered the intel before it fell into the wrong hands, dispatched the intended target while we were at it too. König saved my life, I saved his, the whole shebang. You know how it is after missions, especially when they go off without a hitch. It’s—“

“Intense.”

“Yeah. We fucked like rabbits on the drive back to the airfield. Took us four days instead of three.”

“But it wasn’t just sex,” Simon says, asserting what he already knows to be true.

“It wasn’t just sex. It kept happening, we got thrown together on a handful of missions over the course of the next two years. We still texted, calls became more frequent and more… single-minded. We met up if our leaves overlapped and we were geographically convenient. He knows that I…”

“Sleep around?”

“It’s more than that now, though. Would you say I’m just ‘sleeping around’ with you?”

Simon snaps his mouth shut, response dying on his tongue. No, he wouldn’t.

“It’s never been on the table, exclusivity. Not on his side either, though he claims it’s been many years since he’s even desired someone else. In all truth, it’s just not realistic–”

“–for men like us, right,” Simon finishes, echoing what König had said to him in St. James’s on Christmas Eve.

“He also said he loves me, talking mince about moving in together.”

“And you don’t?”

“It’s not really about that, love or being loved. Of course I love him. I’ve always loved easy, Mum liked to say. I just… I’ve struggled to stay put, tame my wild heart and all that rot. Maybe you’ve noticed.”

“Or something,” Simon quips.

“I’ve shamed myself for years, most of my life if I’m honest. How could I be so selfish? I’ve been with partners who didnae tolerate it, and I respected that, but it always ended on a sour note when I grew restless and felt too smothered. I always knew in my heart of hearts that it’s not about ‘either or,’ but ‘this and’,” Soap finishes, gaze thoughtful as he offers Simon a chance to say his piece.

Simon inhales through his nose and decides to be brave.

“It’s not something I can really grasp, how you could… be with more than one person like that,“ Simon says. “For me, it’s always felt like ‘either or.’ And I’ve been with people who betrayed my trust. ‘Ell, my father cheated on my mum more times than I can count. It’s not just about the cheating, the sex itself, it’s how someone can look you in the eye and lie to your face, sometimes for ages before you find out. It’s a reminder of all the ways in which you could never know someone completely. If they’re capable of something like that.”

Soap hums, and takes Simon’s hand in his. Let’s Simon meet his eyes when he’s ready. Holds him through the hard part.

“I’ve always struggled with feeling like I shouldn’t be too suspicious, too possessive. Too much like my father. And I let myself be hurt, because it’s what I thought I deserved.”

“It’s not–”

“Johnny, I know that. My solution for decades was just to deprive myself of anything remotely resembling a relationship, ‘sides the occasional hook up with a stranger I’d never see again.”

“But that’s not what you want anymore?” Soap asks, eyes downcast and shy.

“I can’t promise that we’ll all be together. Not like that, but I can… play nice. Rather, he cares about you and I respect that. And I care about you too and if he can respect that, then it’s worth the sacrifice.”

“I hate that you feel like you’re sacrificing something for me. You shouldn’t have to.”

“Perhaps sacrifice is the wrong word. Make an exception to the rule, maybe. I’m starting to understand you, myself, maybe even that Austrian bastard. Talking helps.”

“I’m asking for a lot, I know,” Soap says, with a minute shake of his head, clearly at odds with himself.

“No, you’re asking me to trust you. To do more than just say it. You’ve shown me time and again how you trust me, with your life, with your heart even. And I’ve never given you the chance, not really. You’ve always taken care of me. Let me take care of you, for as long as you want. König can stay too. We’ll take care of you together.”

“I’m not asking you to fall in love with him, or even be with him, like, physically.”

“I know,” Simon says.

“It would be so hot, don’t get me wrong. Always been a fantasy of mine, two guys. I thought for sure by the time I was thirty I’d’ve done it already. But it’s not essential and I don’t think it’s fair to expect you to agree to something before you fully understand what you need, or even if you can stand to spend more than five minutes with Klaus off the field.”

Simon considers Soap’s words, turns them over in his head.

“What if I… watched you two together. Again, but not like last time,” he says finally.

“Aye,” Soap says, chuckling. “Not like last time at all.”

Simon reaches a hand up to cup Soap’s jaw. He swipes his thumb over Soap’s cheekbone, the delicate skin under his eye.

“I want this,” Soap says, watching his face. He reaches a hand up, lays it over Simon’s. “I want to be with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Oh I’ll have you alright.”

“Ye dobber.” Soap leans into his space, kisses him with greasy lips.

Simon grabs the back of his head, turns to face him so he can kiss him fully. Soap pulls away, slides from the barstool, and takes Simon’s hand in his, threading their fingers together and bringing Simon’s knuckles to his lips.

“As much as I love the beard, you should really let me shave it,” Soap says. “I don’t think my thighs will ever recover.” Simon has to grip the counter with his free hand at the memory of his face between Soap’s legs, imagining the skin red hot to the touch because of the pleasure he wrought until Soap was boneless and sated, blissed out.

“If I must, if only to get my mouth on you again,” Simon concedes.

Soap leads him to the bathroom, the site of the previous night’s escapade, and sits him on the toilet. He peppers kisses on Simon’s forehead, his brows, down the bridge of his nose, his cheeks and chin.

“What’re you doing?” Simon asks.

“Saying goodbye,” Soap replies, a dreamy sigh.

“To the beard?”

“Aye,” he says, and reaches for the shaving kit in the drawer.

Soap lathers his jaw with shaving cream, tips his head back and drags the razor from his neck to his cheek. He’s careful not to slice, made all the more difficult by Simon’s scarred and dimpled skin. He moves Simon’s chin when he needs better acces, stops to kiss his nose a few times. Simon watches his face without speaking, the tenderness of this act not lost on him. It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever done with another person.

If Soap sees his eyes begin to moisten, he doesn’t comment on it.

When Soap finishes, he washes the remaining shaving cream away with a warm washrag. Simon closes his eyes when he dabs on aftershave, opens them again when Soap plops down in his lap.

“Hey,” Soap says, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. “Tell me a joke.”

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trentaafcsblog · 3 years ago

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Writing Challenge - Random

“Is that...my shirt?” - Harry Winks

Thank you to the lovely @penguintransporter for this one 🤍

There’s a drizzle in the air, misty and almost intangible, and the wind that carries it is gentle, but cold, feeling fresh against his freckled skin. His hair is slightly wet, the tips stick to his forehead, and he feels like he should probably find a cover under some roof on the side of the pavement, but he doesn’t do it, afraid that she won’t see him if he steps away.

It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon, almost too quiet, and the only sound he can hear is the loud laughter from the nearby pub where the regulars are getting rowdier and merrier with every pint they consume as the aroma from the nearby chippy shop along the street fills his nostrils and makes his stomach grumble.

Hopefully, she’ll be here soon.

Not long after his stomach voices yet another complaint, he notices her while she crosses the road, for a second blending in with the crowd of Londoners, and he smiles to himself as he takes his hands out of his fish-tail parka pockets – excitement filling up his stomach, and he suddenly feels no hunger any more.

“Bloody hell, Winksy,” she stops in front of him, shaking her head as she tries to shake off the excess raindrops out of her hair, “what is this weather? Didn’t we settle for today because it was supposed to be sunny? Can we go back to Spain or wherever they have sun every day?”

Harry grins.

“Hello to you to Sophie. I’ve been alright, thanks for asking. Yourself?” he teases subtly, making her look up at him with a grin, and something inside of him shifts.

“Won’t you look at the lack of my manners, huh? Hi, Harry! It’s been a while, no?” she responds – her words mumbled as he brings her into his arms for a quick hug, aware that the surface of his jacket is wet from the rain.

As he pulls away, he unzips his parka and takes out a beanie hat from the inside pocket before pulling the zip back, all the way to his chin. “Here,” he murmurs as they start walking along the Bermondsey Street and towards their favourite coffee spot, “it’s not exactly an umbrella, but it’ll do until we get inside. Keeps that bird’s nest of yours dry,” he adds to make it more light-hearted.

“And what about you?” Sophie inquires as she looks up at him, blinking away the raindrops that were trapped in between her eyelashes. “Plus, this feels freakishly expensive. Is it merino wool? I am afraid I will stretch it. Take it back, Harry, I know I will stretch it.”

“Sophie, you’re rambling,” Harry points out, sticking his hands back into his pockets, “just put it on, or I will be forced to do it myself. It’s just a hat.”

Sophie doesn’t say anything but smiles before putting the beanie on, gently pulling it over her ears until they were neatly tucked in.

Harry and Sophie have known each other for a bigger portion of their lives – way before they realised that one cannot get cooties by kissing someone, and way before they acknowledged the fact that being adult is not as cool as they thought it would be. Harry was five and Sophie four years old when they met for the first time, tagging along with their fathers to one of their regular pints-before-the-match meetings around Hertfordshire.

Sophie was an odd-ball, with fine, straight cut hair – a bit chubby and with pale cheeks that were constantly stained with a blush while Harry was a lanky, hyperactive boy who was able to recite all the strikers that ever played for the England’s National Team.

Growing up, week after week, they kept tagging along, sometimes actually eager to watch the match, but mostly just running around the dark pub, knocking over things and making other people and pub-owners annoyed with their antics, but, once the tiredness overpowered them, they always ended up doing one thing – sitting together in between their fathers, drinking juice and sharing a packet of crisps.

Twenty years later, despite growing up, changing interests and music tastes, schools and extracurricular activities, neither Sophie nor Harry forgot how strong their friendship was when they were kids. Even if they had different circles of friends, schedules and timetables, ambitions and aspirations, they always made sure to at least devote one day in a month for one-another.

“How’s school?” Harry asks as he walks back from the till where he had been picking up their drinks – a flat white for himself and some weird mocha-something for her, but before he has time to set the mugs down on the wooden table, he stops in his tracks, watching Sophie shrug her coat off. “Is that… my shirt?” he asks as the warmth fills up his body, and he feels his stomach do a flip.

Sophie blushes and sits down before pulling on the sleeves of Harry’s Champion’s crewneck. “Yeah,” she admits, smoothing the collar a little, “it somehow ended up in my suitcase when we got back from the holidays, and I forgot to return it.” Sophie smiles as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Forgot or didn’t want to?” Harry teases as his mind goes back to their last trip to Mallorca together, a year ago – a trip where Harry realised that Sophie wasn’t the same chubby, pink cheeks, and missing front tooth girl he used to play tag with in a dimly lit pubs.

“Both,” Sophie responds, looking away, trying to hide her blush from Harry’s curious eyes, but he notices it and tries to hide his smile.

Harry has always had a soft spot for Sophie, and if asked to why, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to give an answer. Maybe it was the fact that they met at such young age, or maybe it was the constant prodding and poking of their mothers, subtly hinting that they would be a perfect couple. He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, recently it only became stronger, and it made him feel a certain kind of excitement whenever he texted her, whenever they face-timed one another, and whenever he knew that she was watching him from the stands, wearing a shirt with his name on the back.

“It looks as if it has stopped raining,” Sophie murmurs as they both look through the window of the cafe where they had been sitting for the past three hours, chatting their afternoon away.

Harry nods, glancing at her and lets his eyes linger on her for a second, watching her observe the clearing sky on the outside, and his stomach makes that familiar flip yet again. “Do you want to go somewhere for a pint? I probably shouldn’t, but I fancy one.”

“Only if you buy me a packet of crisps,” Sophie smiles, and he pulls a face at her, but he knows that he would buy her the world, if she asked him to. They quickly get up, putting their coats back on, and he makes sure to hold the doors open for her before they step out in, now, with sun streaked London street. Sophie sighs happily as they start walking before reaching out the beanie towards him. “Thanks, but I don’t think I will be needing this from now on. But if you’re wondering what to get me for upcoming Christmas, I am letting you know that one of these, merino, alpaca or whatever hats might be a good idea, but it doesn’t have to be fan—,”

“—Careful!” Harry interrupts and Sophie yelps a little as he pulls her closer to his side.

“Jesus,” she whispers – side of her face still pressed against his side.

Harry is grinning now as he looks down at her. “Sorry, but you almost stepped into a huge puddle. See there, and I have no spare socks to borrow you if you get yours wet.”

“Oh,” Sophie breathes out, but quickly feels the temperature rise in her body as she glances at where Harry was holding her hand in his, and it makes him stop as well – his boyish smile disappearing for a second, but he never drops his hold on her hand. Instead, he intertwines their fingers together – his thumb stroking over her soft skin before he smiles again.

“I like this,” he mumbles, “I don’t know about you, Sophie, but it feels nice. Can we hold hands for a bit longer?”

Sophie is quiet, looking down at her shoes as she tries to gather her thoughts, but she doesn’t need to say anything in the first place because her blush is answering all the spoken and unspoken questions.

“I like it too, and I’d love to hold hands with you,” she answers, and Harry only grins as they start walking again – hand in hand, and with their stomachs filled with thousands of little butterflies, dancing on the beat of their hearts.

This imagine is in collaboration with Cancer Research UK 💗 please feel free to follow the link if you would like to donate, but as always, there is no obligation 🦋 if you’ve got the time, then please have a little look at their website and check out the amazing work that they do 🤍 they also have an online shop where you can buy products for yourself (mugs, notebooks, blankets) or something for those affected by Breast Cancer (anxiety help books, mastectomy bras, support cushions) - all of which have the option to be donated to out to those affected by the disease if they can’t afford these things themselves, or would prefer to receive something physical instead of a donation, with all of the proceeds going directly to the same causes as general donations x

#hnrfc writing challenge #harry winks #harry winks blurb #harry winks imagine #submission

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berniesrevolution · 6 years ago

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JACOBIN MAGAZINE

American culture is saturated with the idea that public housing is inevitably and uniformly grim — not so much a place to live as a place to lay your head while you plot your escape, or to simply resign yourself to paralyzing poverty and social invisibility forever.

The impression of public housing as dull, dilapidated, and dangerous has always worked in favor of those who would rather there be no public housing at all. Private real-estate developers, landlords, banks, and assorted wealthy people who don’t like paying taxes benefit enormously from our pessimism and lack of imagination. It galls and frightens them that we might someday start to view public housing not as emergency aid for the most destitute, but as an ambitious long-term solution and preferable alternative to the atomization, insecurity, and relentless exploitation of the private housing market — that is, that we might build public housing so attractive that people wouldn’t want to take out mortgages or pay market-rate rent anymore.

So they would rather we didn’t find out about Red Vienna, or Le Lorrain in Brussels, or Sa Pobla in Mallorca, or even the heyday of British council housing. These projects past and present demonstrate that social housing can be vibrant, safe and beautiful, all while being affordable and reliable for ordinary working people.

1. Red Vienna

To capitalists whose profits depend on extracting as much value from land and shelter as possible, raised expectations for what public housing can accomplish are an existential threat. And nothing raises those expectations quicker and higher than familiarity with Red Vienna, the paragon of social housing in modern history.

Unsurprisingly, the massive undertaking to build decommodified housing for the city’s residents was spearheaded by socialists. A robust labor movement with socialist leadership had established itself in Austria during industrialization in the late ninteenth century, but socialism really came into its own after the First World War, when the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy created new political openings. In Vienna, the Social Democratic Workers Party came to power in 1919 and immediately set about implementing an ambitious reform program.

The socialist city government imposed heavy taxes on the wealthy and, starting in 1923, used new revenue to replace its overcrowded and drab working-class slums with modern public housing. Because these were built by socialists with a vision for decommodifying shelter entirely and with a political allegiance to the city’s working class, they weren’t begrudging bare-bones offerings. Far from it, they were high-concept, masterfully-built edifices, many of which have stood the test of time. Their construction doubled as a good unionized public jobs program, helping the economy recover after the war.

Red Vienna’s social housing was designed not just as a place for workers to recharge between shifts — what Barbara Ehrenreich has aptly called “canned labor” — but as a place to live. The majestic apartment buildings featured leafy courtyards, copious open space, and plenty of natural light. They had well-equipped shared laundries and communal state-of-the-art kitchen facilities. They were connected to, and sometimes contained within them, public schools and cooperative stores. Many even had bathhouses and swimming pools, healthcare and childcare centers, pharmacies, post offices, and libraries on the premises.

The largest apartment block in Red Vienna, Karl Marx-Hof, was used as a fortress against militant fascists in the lead-up to the Second World War. The socialists put up a valiant resistance, but in time Red Vienna fell to the fascists. Even so, the city retained the memory of beautiful social housing: for residents of Vienna, the illusion that shelter had to be either private or subpar had been forever shattered. Vienna continued to build desirable social housing after the war, and today 62 percent of the city’s residents live in social housing, compared to 5 percent in New York City.

“We have an old idea here that not only rich people should live in good conditions,” says one 52-year-old social housing resident in Vienna. “It’s an important idea and we should hold onto it.”

2. British Council Housing

In 1979, 42 percent of Brits lived in public housing. The big and bold postwar British public housing system wasn’t a telltale sign or symptom of widespread immiseration. Instead it was the fruit of a century of reformers’ visions and working-class struggles. Some council estates were modest, while others — like the charming, eccentric turn-of-the-century Boundary Street Estate, or the striking modernist buildings designed by communist architect Berthold Lubetkin — were carefully planned for maximum livability and architectural allure.

British social housing was funded through progressive taxation, an arrangement that social democrats justified by pointing out that public housing tenants performed the labor that made large personal fortunes possible. Naturally, this never sat well with the domestic ruling class. So when a global recession in 1973 caused a crack in the foundation of the economic system, capitalists and their political allies leapt at the opportunity. Deliberate underfunding of the housing projects — rationalized as a consequence of unavoidable recession-era belt-tightening — began in the 1970s, followed by a full-on privatization scheme in the 1980s.

When Thatcher came to power in 1979, she swiftly passed legislation allowing tenants to buy and eventually sell their council flats — a clever way of absorbing the publicly-furnished housing stock into the private sector and reestablishing the supremacy of capitalist markets. Low-income tenants have been subjected to steadily disappearing protections and increasing rents ever since.

As shelter costs creep up on earnings across the UK, many who grew up in public council housing are nostalgic for a time when working-class tenants were protected from the vagaries of the private rental market. They remember their council-house upbringings fondly. “You practically knew every kid that was here, and you always had someone to play with,” recalls one woman who grew up in the Quaker Court Estate in London. “The parents got on brilliantly as well. If one of you was having a party, the whole lot of you would go.”

“We had an idyllic childhood,” says another, who grew up in the Boundary Street Estate in London — the city’s oldest social housing project, born on the heels of the Housing of the Working Classes Act of 1885. “We really did. I mean, it seems strange to say that now.”

A man who grew up in the Heygate Estate in London recalls that he “loved it here… I remember being dazzled by the whiteness of the fitted kitchens, and the stairwells seemed to head to heaven, and away from the slate-grey streets below. This was the modern world, and it was ours for the taking.”

Austerity drove many estates into disrepair in the late twentieth century, and Thatcher’s ongoing right-to-buy scheme continues to privatize what remains.

Only 8 percent of Brits live in public housing today, but they still have a stronger intuition about social housing than Americans do. Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour Party has recently proposed an ambitious new social housing initiative, and it’s been received with an enthusiasm that’s difficult — though not impossible — to imagine in the United States.

3. Spain’s Architecturally Adventurous Housing Projects

Though privatization and austerity are on the march everywhere, the social-democratic legacy of high-quality public housing hasn’t entirely evaporated. Particularly in Europe, there are a handful of recent developments that draw inspiration from the projects of the past — particularly their architectural legacy.

Spain has recently taken up the mantle, and has turned its public housing program into an opportunity for architectural experimentation. In Madrid, the Mirador housing project features a large open space in the middle of the vertical building that doubles as a communal plaza, while the Carabanchel Social Housing project is heavy on bamboo and the 120 Parla project has a retro-futuristic appearance. In Barcelona, the Torre Plaça Europa looks identical to a pricey condo building in London or New York City — same with the Parc Central Social Housing Building in Valencia. The Sa Pobla project in Mallorca looks like something a movie star would rent out for an Instagrammable vacation, and social housing for mineworkers in Asturias is a geometric novelty, inspired in color and shape by the coal that the miners extract.

But Spain is not run by socialists, and while the architecture of these new social housing projects upends the idea that poor people should live in ugly and boring buildings, the projects leave some things to be desired. These buildings are often located on the peripheries of cities, where land is cheaper — for a reason, since these areas are underdeveloped and remote. Building social housing on the outskirts tends to segregate working-class tenants and burden them with costly and time-consuming travel, a mistake also made by the otherwise relatively successful Swedish miljonprogrammet, or Million Program. Fashionable buildings are an improvement, but ultimately unsatisfactory if there aren’t shops or schools nearby.

Imagine these buildings in vibrant city centers and you’ll have an idea of what social housing can actually achieve. Better yet, imagine them in bustling neighborhoods and equipped with their own publicly-run pharmacies and daycares. Now you see why Red Vienna remains the social housing gold standard, in terms of real value to working-class tenants.

4. Savonnerie Heymans and Le Lorrain, Brussels

Brussels has given Spain a run for its money in recent years. Two developments in particular — Savonnerie Heymans and Le Lorrain — are shining examples of social housing architecture.

Savonnerie Heymans, named after the soap factory that used to occupy the site, is less than half a mile from Brussels’ central square. It comprises dozens of units of varying types — studios, lofts, duplexes and apartments ranging from one to six bedrooms. The architecture is as varied as the units themselves: there are boxlike structures made from glass and slatted wood that have a modern Finnish-sauna feel, and white pitched-roof dwellings that resemble modern interpretations of Belgian cottages. In the middle is the old chimney from the soap factory, the kind of homage to industrial history that’s usually cloying in bourgeois settings, less so in a social housing project.

The smaller Le Lorrain is designed by the same architects and is also a renovated industrial complex, this one an old iron dealer. The new estate is spotless and stylish, like something out of Kinfolk or Dwell. But what’s remarkable about Savonnerie Heymans and Le Lorrain isn’t just their pleasing architecture; it’s that, unlike the Spanish projects, they’re located on high-value lots in lively neighborhoods, avoiding the problem of working-class siloing. Their designs also encourage communal life to a greater extent: plenty of shared outdoor space, pavilions and gardens and “mini-forests,” and Savonnerie Heymans even has a game library for kids.

The major downside to social housing in Belgium is that it’s a complicated public-private affair, with a labyrinthine nexus of developers, providers, payers and categories of tenant. The system is decentralized, and while Brussels doesn’t allow tenants to buy (or eventually sell) public housing as Britain does, other Belgian regions do — and there’s a danger that Brussels could fall prey to this policy, as austerity and neoliberalism break the social-democratic commitments of municipal governments across Europe.

This is another area in which Red Vienna shines by contrast. The planning, construction, finance and maintenance of its social housing were highly centralized. The buildings were completely planned and administered by a democratically-elected body, and they were never intended to be privatized. They were provided by workers, for workers, ideally forever.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #jacobin magazine #social housing #Housing market #affordable housing #democratic socialism #jacobin

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lucasteiler · 5 years ago

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I'm no good at goodbyes

Sometimes you feel happy in a place surrounded by friends and family yet something is missing. You start to feel the need for a change. At first, you don’t know exactly what you want then it slowly starts to appear and you can’t remove from your head anymore.

I have already packed my life in bags and boxes. Weird. But in a good way, I guess. I can fit my whole life in a car. Only few hours left in Budapest and I am going to make the most out of it. 20th of August is when the whole country is celebrating, so I am going to do the same thing. One last dinner with my best friend, one last walk on our favourite route, saying ‘hi’ to our favourite spots for the last time. In two days, I am going to do the same thing in the Netherlands. Same things in a different setting, with different people.

All the memories appear like small movies and pictures in a kaleidoscope, so I am going to list a few of them from the past one year just to keep it for the future:

Moving in and cleaning for 2 days and rewarding ourselves with frozen pizza and red wine

First nigh out when we found a wig and stayed up until 6 and froze to death on the first day sleeping at our new place

Going to the cinema only to watch Disney and Pixar movies

Random night outs

The seemingly impossible mission to find an iron

Halloween Party -note to ourselves: never wear facepaint when going out-

When we had no heating for 3 days in November

Flour Style Wok Bar

Shopping sprees

Going to Vienna for the long weekend

Birthday party with my best friends

Attempting to cook and bake

Crying over stupid boys together

Watching endless amount of series while eating popcorn

Sometimes we worked out and went to Margaret Island for a run

NYE Party at our place with the girls

Went to Italy

Postponing cleaning non-stop so our place ended up extra-dirty and we almost threw up while cleaning

Loud music all the time, sorry neighbours

Speaking of, super handsome neighbour on the 2nd floor

Joking about buying the doors/windows only when we see a sign “for sale”

Eating all the time, literally all the time

Spent 5 days in Mallorca

Parties in Instant- realising after the 20th times that they always play the same music

Szimpla? Aha

Singing on the street, yes our voice is horrible

Had a blast at Sziget Festival (slightly died after it but that’s ok)

Went to Croatia with family in July

Cleaning while listening to traditional Persian songs

Crazy obsession with scented candles

Raising many spiders in our flat

Naming random objects with funny names and creating our own special vocabulary

And many, many more..

I hope the next year will be as good and eventful as the previous one!

#goodbye #hungary #budapest #moving #blog

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nicolasrealestate · 9 months ago

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Rent or Buy a Property and Finca in Mallorca? Nicolas Real Estate Group is a Best Choice

Mallorca attracts tourists of all ages and interests with its alluring combination of contemporary conveniences, cultural legacy, and scenic beauty. Mallorca has plenty to offer everyone, from the energetic capital city of Palma with its historical sites and chic atmosphere to the charming rural villages scattered around the region. Mallorca provides an incredible retreat, whether it's the stunning beaches, picturesque hiking routes, or world-class shopping and eating that entice you. By having the opportunity to customize your stay to fit your tastes and lifestyle, Rent Property in Mallorca allows you to explore the island like a local would.

Mallorca provides a wide variety of rental homes to suit every taste and budget, whether you're searching for a quaint house overlooking the sea, a rustic finca tucked away among olive fields, or a small apartment in the center of Palma. A rental property's location should be carefully considered, taking into consideration its closeness to amenities, attractions, and transit alternatives.

Select an area that fits your interests and priorities, whether you like the peaceful countryside, the vibrant city center, or the picturesque seaside. Mallorca offers a wide selection of rental homes, ranging from comfortable flats to opulent villas, so you may make priceless memories in an environment of unmatched natural beauty and cultural diversity.

Some Major Benefits of Renting Property in Mallorca

Privacy and Comfort

Compared to more conventional lodging options like hotels or resorts, renting a house offers you privacy, space, and comfort. You can unwind, relax, and make lifelong memories in Mallorca when you have your own space, whether you're traveling alone, with family, or with friends.

Real Experience

Getting a Rent Property in Mallorca lets you escape the tourist throng and really immerse yourself in Mallorcan culture and daily life. Whether it's dining at neighborhood eateries or shopping at local markets, renting property allows you to interact with residents and gain insight into their everyday lives on the island.

Flexibility & ability

Renting a house gives you the ability to go wherever you want, whenever you want, in Mallorca. Whether your plans involve seeing picturesque towns on day tours, bouncing from beach to beach, or just lounging by the pool, having a home base gives you the freedom to create your own schedule and experience the island as you see fit.

Cost-Effective

For families or parties vacationing together, renting a house in Mallorca might be a financially responsible choice. Renting real estate instead of several hotel rooms is frequently less expensive when visitors split the expense of lodging, giving you more money to spend on other island experiences and activities.

Embrace Tranquility and Privacy: Find Your Perfect Finca Retreat in Mallorca

Buy a Finca in Mallorca entails a number of procedures, including looking for and visiting properties, negotiating, doing due diligence, and closing. Learn about the laws, rules, and real estate market in your area so that you may go confidently through the purchasing process. To guarantee a successful and seamless transaction, collaborate closely with your financial institutions, legal counsel, and real estate agent.

The financing choices you have for buying a finca in Mallorca will depend on the particulars of the deal as well as your financial status. Examine the mortgage possibilities that Spanish banks and other financial organizations have to offer, keeping in mind things like interest rates, lending conditions, and qualifying requirements. To determine your finance requirements and obtain the best conditions for Buy a Finca in Mallorca, collaborate with a mortgage broker or financial counselor.

Whether you're tending to a garden, gathering your own produce, or just relaxing on your property, owning a finca offers a sense of contentment and a connection to nature that's difficult to find elsewhere. Savor leisurely meals al fresco, explore the island's stunning splendor, and immerse yourself in the rich culture and customs of Mallorca as you embrace the laid-back Mediterranean lifestyle.

#Buy a villa in Mallorca #Buy a finca in Mallorca #Buy a building plot on Mallorca #Buy Flat in mallorca #Buy property in a Mallorcan village #Invest in Mallorca #Rent Property in Mallorca #Rent Finca in mallorca #Villa at the Golf course #Buy Hotel in Mallorca

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useless-catalanfacts · 4 years ago

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Hi! Are there any Catalan dishes that don't have meat in them? I don't know about fish since I rarely eat it but meat's been giving me indigestion lately. I'd really love to try cuisines from the various regional cultures of Spain because of their fresh, healthy veggie content!

Yes! There are a lot of Catalan dishes that are made of vegetables.

I will add the name of the dish in Catalan and for the ones I’ve posted about I’ll link you to the post, and then I’ll try to find a recipe in English.

Salads:

Esqueixada. Recipe in the post. It includes cod but you can skip it if you don’t want fish. [Photo by elsfogons]

Empedrat. Similar to esqueixada but with beans and bell pepper, so it also includes cod but if you don’t like fish you could just do it without the cod. I wanted to include it anyway because I love it (hehe).

Xató. Escarole salad with a sauce similar to romesco, typical for Carnival. Recipe.

Trempó: typical from Mallorca, it’s commonly eaten in a coca de trempó but you can also eat it as a salad to accompany any dish. Recipe.

Coques (read this post about the concept of coca in Catalan cuisine if you don’t know it yet, but it’s basically a flat bread with things on top, like a cold pizza generally without cheese)

Coca de recapte. Some people add herrings, Catalan types of sausage or other ingredients (basically “coca de recapte” translated to “coca of everything I could gather”, because it’s made of the typical things that Catalan peasants would have around the house), so feel free to change it however you like it best. Recipe. [Photo source]

Coca de ceba: coca (flat bread) baked with onion, and you can add what you like on top. I like it with goat cheese.

Many different types of coques actually!

Arrossos (rice dishes)

Arròs de bolets: rice with wild mushrooms. There are many different recipes of this rice with mushrooms in different parts of the territory. Here’s the recipe for the Andorran one.

my favourite rice with mushrooms are the ones that add cep (Boletus edulis) or yellow foot (Craterellus lutescens) 😋. A recipe for the yellow foot.

Arròs de carxofa amb bolets: rice with artichoke and mushrooms

Pimentons farcits (bell peppers filled with rice and vegetables). I haven’t found this recipe in English but you could run this one in Spanish through google translate.

You could make many other rices just skipping the meat. Or rice with vegetables recipe.

Others:

Escalivada: smoke grilled bellpeppers, eggplant and onion, you can also do the same with other veggetables. You can eat this on top of pa amb tomàquet or make a coca or in other ways you want. (I like to eat it with salted anchovies but if you don’t like fish there’s no need to).

Samfaina (a condiment, base or side-dish similar to the French ratatouille). Recipe in the post.

Or tombet which is the Mallorcan version of samfaina and includes potato. Recipe.

Espinacs a la catalana: very easy! just sautéed spinachs with olive oil, garlic, raisins, pine nuts, and salt. Recipe.

Rovellons a la brasa or rovellons la planxa. Bloody milk cap mushroom (Lactarius sanguifluus) grilled or sautéed with olive oil and smashed garlic and parsley, and salt.

Cigrons a la catalana: chickpeas. Recipe. Or chickpes with spinachs. Recipe (skip the pork belly, it adds a better taste but you can cook it without it).

And obviously, calçots with romesco. Though if you live outside the Catalan countries you will probably not be able to buy calçots. You can try the same with other kinds of green sweet onions. Romesco recipe. You can also make the calçots / sweet onion breaded (recipe).

And of course a lot of truites (omelettes): potato (and onion) omelette, eggplant omelette, spinach and garlic omelette, mushroom omelette, pea omelette...

#menjar #ask #anonymous #food #vegetarian #vegetarian recipes #veggies #receptes #salad #salads

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lascolinaspropertyforsale8874 · 3 years ago

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Mallorca Distinctive House For Sale

Mallorca, the premier of the Balearic Islands, lies in the Mediterranean Sea off the south east coastline of mainland Spain. This, therefore, assures that Mallorca homes are drastically sought after. Son Sant Joan, which is the primary vacationer airport, is a huge modern facility, and is found in the south of the island just outside the house the funds Palma. The first recognizable landmark on the ultimate strategy ahead of landing will be the magnificent 14th Century Gothic cathedral at close by Palma, Las Colinas Property For Sale and the sight of it from the air never ceases to consider your breath away. Island has special place sides and landscapes in which you will come to feel like in a paradise. Like the good economic system and social solutions, the well being technique too is among the greatest in the planet. Spain has big firms that have extended all above the globe its status in the organization world is undoubtedly rising, which includes that of Mallorca! Why to invest in Mallorca home: one Mallorca has all sorts of massive, luxury flats, villas and homes which can be used as holiday homes, citizens, or as an expense objective. 2 Mallorca has a excellent representation of funding and expenditure functions. Mallorca has steady economic climate and political program helps make it one of the most lucrative locations to invest in. three Mallorca pleasurable and special weather conditions during the whole year can make it an desirable spot to stay with not time restrictions with entire pleasure. This provokes the property need is particularly substantial all the year prolonged with a fast charge. 4 Mallorca inhabitants is growing each and every calendar year, as effectively as its residence and market place demand from customers rise. 5 Any kind of home is welcome in Mallorca. With a constant development of residence prices owing to its varied natural landscape, a lot of varieties of house can be found, since coquette flats and residences, also chalets, until luxurious villas and resorts. With so a lot Spanish property for sale to locate the greatest residence that can inside of the price range and the more residences you see, the far more certain you will be about the picked house and your desire residence. If you are buying an off-plan property the developer might offer you a house loan with quite favorable phrases and situations. Spanish mortgage can recommend you prior to your departure to bring with you all the necessary documentation and receive the professional guidance you want. You should have a lawyer who will carry out quite a few checks to guarantee that your chosen property is certainly owned by the person marketing it and that it has been promoted properly. Utilizing a lawyer safeguards your investment decision and implies that when you receive ownership of your property you will not inherit any outstanding money owed. Generally a lawyer will charge one% of the purchase value of your house in addition VAT at sixteen% for his providers throughout the sale approach. The closing stage of your obtain will be formally concluded prior to a General public Notary when the seller signs the house more than to you.

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immoservicespain · 4 years ago

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Ref : 16928 - Villa For Sale in Denia

Exclusive luxury villa of new modern construction in front of the sea with direct access to the beach in Denia on the Costa Blanca of Alicante. The house is built on a flat plot of 1.054 m2 and distributed on two floors connected by internal stairs, 216.70 m2 built with 3 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, living room with open kitchen fully equipped, infinity pool of 56 m2. Finishes and first quality materials. The property has a privileged location, with direct access to the beach from the plot and direct views of the sea and one of the best sandy beaches in Dénia's Las Marinas. Dénia, next to Oliva and Jávea, is a cosmopolitan and modern city located north of the Costa Blanca. Touristically it is a destination of the most valued of the Mediterranean sea for the high quality of its services and products. Dénia is one of the most exclusive and pleasant places to buy your home on the Costa Blanca. Denia has 20 km of beaches, to the north, Punta del Raset, Les Marines, Les Bovetes, Els Molins, L'Almadrava (boulder) and Les Deveses. To the south, La Marineta Casiana and small coves with places of great beauty, El Trampolí, Punta Negra, Arenetes and La Cala. Dénia, is very involved with its sea due to the fishing activity, whose most significant product is the famous red shrimp of Denia. Marinas, Marina de Denia, Marina El Portet de Denia, Denia Yacht Club and the commercial port, Puerto de Denia, with the presence of charter companies that travel to the Balearic Islands (Ibiza, Mallorca, Formentera). Read the full article

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wallpaperpainter · 5 years ago

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The Biggest Contribution Of Black Framed Mirror With Shelf To Humanity | Black Framed Mirror With Shelf

Spanish artist Francesc Rifé has created a characteristic autogenous for a shoe abundance in Mallorca, application shades of bendable blush and anemic grey.

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The ASH Mallorca abundance in Palma appearance arched accurate surfaces and abeyant atramentous shelves, set against a accomplishments of bendable blush curtains.

There are few added elements in the 95-square-metre space, ensuring that shoes are able to angle out.

“A acquainted and ascetic alternative of abstracts defines the appearance and agreement of space,” said Francesc Rifé Studio.

“The acerbity of the accurate gives way to the benevolence of the fabric, and the virtues of the arced curve attempt with adventurous cossack proposals with a abundant personality.”

The ASH Mallorca abundance is organised over two levels. On the arena floor, a axial aisle is affected on both abandon by aloft accurate platforms.

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Slender shelves are set aloft these platforms, accurate by atramentous animate tubes that extend from attic to ceiling.

A arced access leads bottomward to the basement. Although this aspect was already in abode afore the fit-out, its bland appearance matches the curves of Rifé’s design.

The basement has a added free-flowing layout, affected by a ample S-shape in the attic plan. Shelves and curtains chase the aforementioned line, and the aftereffect is emphasised by spotlights in the ceiling.

On both floors, accumulator and checkout areas are buried abaft the blush curtains, so as not to agitate the aesthetic.

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Rifé’s flat describes the affection created by this bolt as “romantic and lively”.

“A ablaze blush bolt band unfolds over the anatomy of the boutique and emotionally connects the arena attic with the basement,” said the studio.

“The animation of this capital aspect generates connected and ad-lib movements throughout the project,” it added.

Concrete cylinders action as added affectation stands, while beyond blush cylinders accommodate seats.

Concealed lighting elements affection everywhere, allowance to accomplish anniversary aspect feel impactful. “The ablaze antecedent is consistently hidden to focus all absorption on whatever it is lighting,” said the studio.

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Francesc Rifé Flat has completed assorted aliment for ASH, including spaces in London and Shanghai.

Other projects by the flat accommodate a serene clinic, a market-style restaurant and a aliment analysis flat for Ferran Adrià’s El Bulli Lab.

Photography is by David Zarzoso.

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noisykate · 7 years ago

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Another day, another bay.. Reflections on the Balearics

23 August 2017

We’re now in Estepona, in a marina for a couple of days, meeting up with some friends of Mike’s from the ‘old’ days when he used to work. We took them out on the boat, but broke all known seasickness records, inducing projectile mal-de-mer in child 2 in flat calm in under 40 minutes. Hey ho. Child 1, manfully unaffected by said mal-de-mer, made a good job of steering, taking the boat into the wind to get sails up and down, and holding a course under motor.

I flew home for Mum’s 80th, a lovely ‘do’ in a country pub, with all the family there. Good to see everyone. Rushed up to London to see Shirley for lunch, to sort our post, and to have a quick look at a house Rachel and Nathan might buy. The usual hateful petty humilations through the airport, this time including being left shoeless and blinded; some jobsworth having demanded I remove my (prescription) sunglasses, leaving me standing shortsightedly in the middle of the space, unable to locate my tray.

Mike had moved the boat to Porto Christo for my return, and we had a nice meal out for his birthday, before setting off for Gibraltar. The new Birkenstocks I bought for him on a rainy day in Colchester, fit fine. Managed to persuade him to bin the old ones. Hooray. Also bought some for myself, to replace the ones Rachel had bought me, which I loved. Shoes which fit me! Drum Roll! TaDah!

The Balearics are already fading in memory - some wonderful days, some stunning scenery, lots of time spent with friends, some interesting trips - but ultimately I feel the balearics are now ‘done’, and I currently have no great interest in returning in the future. Perhaps it is the ‘small(ish) island’ effect - the local culture, such as it is, has been diluted and distorted by the massive influx of tourism, and holds only limited interest and attraction.

The Palma Bay motorboat set especially are best avoided - arrogant, noisy, rude, and in the smaller boats often incompetent. Being near them is stressful, and their spending power is so absurd, just by being there they make everything more expensive. We had a chat with one motorboater - lives on his 45′ £400,000 boat, paying £18000 a year for a marina space for it. He doesn’t take it out much because ‘the (40HP Williams) rib is more fun’. The main boat did ONE engine hour last year. ONE!? The annual service for his engines (twin outdrives, about 250 litres per hour at full chat) cost him ��10,000. No wonder the marinas and swindleries are uninterested in our miserable little requirements.

I’m sure there is more there to discover, but where I would happily return to the Baltic, or the atlantic coast of northern Spain, I would not rush back to the balearics. Fine for a week or so, but lacking depth for longer. There is an interesting history to all the islands, but after the excellence of the offering in Cartagena, the presentation of Spanish history elsewhere in Spain is pretty much non-existent. There are ruins on Minorca which are apparently over 3000 years old, but with nothing more than a blip on a map - no signs, no information, indifferent access - it takes more determination than either of us have to sustain an interest in tracking more of them down. We did look out some of them when we visited while on Wally’s boat a year or so back; the caves on the north coast were particularly good.

Wally’s boat, incidentally, is exactly where we left it, and is now effectively derelict. As predicted, sadly. Poor little boat.

We have had a few cracking sails since the last post, and have done several longish legs; Minorca to Mallorca, then Ibiza, then the Mar Menor (more below), a short hop to Cartagena, then a long one to Cabo de Gata to the absurdly overpriced and under-resourced marina at San Jose. Another long one to Estepona, the first 24 hours in cracking winds, averaging 7 knots with following winds and a pleasant helpful swell, then 12 hours motoring in little or no wind.

The anchorage outside the Mar Menor is a truly bizarre place; somebody spent a lot of money piling a maze of piers for a large marina, and the project was then abandoned. The pilings are now rusting away, but provide excellent shelter from all directions, if a slightly Mad-Max-on-water atmosphere, with no access to the shore, conversations from unseen fishermen rolling out from the banks, and water sloshing in and out through the rust holes in the piling.

We stopped off in Cartagena, for fuel as much as anything else - the 12 hour motor having hammered our reserves. It was lovely, meeting up with some old friends, and surprisingly nostalgic revisiting some favoured winter haunts. We spent a lovely evening with Neil and Gail on Gleda, a wharram catamaran Neil built himself. Link to Neil’s blog: http://thegledaproject.com - well worth a read.

We donated the Oppy to them, as we can’t take it with us any further, and I didn’t want to abandon it somewhere where somebody might find it and imagine it more capable than it is, and get themselves into trouble. It has been huge fun having it, and loads of people have had a go in it, especially various children last winter, and I was sorry to see it go.

The list of winter jobs now covers two foolscap pages, that’s four columns single spaced. Mostly trivial, some less so, and some go-nowhere-til-fixed. Top of the list: the AIS power supply has packed up. (AIS allows us to see nearby ships through fog and darkness, with much more accuracy and information than radar. It also has a ‘stalking’ app, which allows you to track where we are via the internet. For any who have not yet found it - go to ‘vesselfinder’ on the internet, and type in the boat name.) Replacement for the power supply is currently looking like a very reasonable £20, but there is the usual drama of ordering stuff for delivery to a non-residential address. Hey ho. First world problems.

Tomorrow we head off to Gibraltar, to make a start on the list of jobs.

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heilewelt · 8 years ago

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‘Indie music is like a ghetto.’ - A Conversation with William McCarthy

It’s a long read. The interview is a fairly long read. Most often I meet artists in some grey meeting rooms with someone coming in after 15 or 25 minutes telling me to ask the last question. With William McCarthy it was slightly different. I picked him up from his Berlin home a few days before he left Berlin to record his upcoming album. He bought some cigarettes and gummibears on the way to a close by bar where we sat down for over an hour to talk about everything. Music, song writing, politics, music industry, Patreon and his solo career after playing for many, many years with Eric Sanderson in Pela and the Augustines. No one told us to stop. No hand telling me we have five minutes left. No ‘one last question’. Time was flying. And I can’t get myself to shorten the interview more than I did because I find our conversation very interesting. I found William very interesting and I enjoyed listening to his stories. I hope you enjoy it, too.

Dörte: You’ve been travelling a lot. You went around America a lot with your motorbike and you want to do it here. Do you think that travelling changed the way you write music?

William: I think all travel is healthy and I think there are different kinds of travelling. There is travelling for work, there is holiday like Mallorca or something and then there is travelling through different cultures and exploring yourself in different environments.

What I’ve learned from talking to many artists is that it’s also different for them because they have always someone in town who want to show them the weird stuff and not the normal tourist stuff.

Yes, there can be a lot of differences. So, I’ve always been to Berlin with a band or a friend. I’ve never been here alone and now I’ve been living here completely alone, not really socializing at all. I’m used to people showing me around. I’m in a different environment now, navigating by myself. No one to motivate me except for myself to go anywhere.

That must be hard, especially since it’s not the perfect season to be in Berlin except if you love different shades of grey. [laughing]

Yeah, it’s pretty grey. The snow, too. It gets dark very early. It’s been an experience definitely.

Did you enjoy it?

Yes, I really like living here. I’m fascinated by history, culture and geography. So, I’m constantly looking at maps and constantly reading about what happened here, what happened in my neighbourhood, what happened in my district, what happened in the city.

In Berlin that’s a never ending thing.

It’s pretty special for that reason. All cities have this feeling. I always thought it was funny when people say ‘I don’t like Sao Paolo or I don’t like Manchester’. It’s funny because how can you make a decision about millions of people like they’re not as good as another city with a different group of people. They’re just people.

I believe whether it’s in the country or in a city that people are different. When I just talked to the lady behind the counter I said to her “that’s service” since she knew your cigarette brand. You don’t always have that in Berlin. In Berlin everyone is unfriendly including myself really.

I think any place with a long winter has that kind of frequency going on. New York has the same. It takes a lot to get through a winter. It’s difficult to go outside. New York has such strange weather. It’s constantly the hottest summer ever recorded or the most snow ever recorded or the largest amount of people to march to the UN ever recorded. Constantly there are these very big events. When it’s cold it’s just hard to not feel overwhelmed and just hide, so I think the unfriendliness is just people hiding from more data out in the world. They just want to stick to what they know and get home and cook and go to bed.

Don’t interact with too many people but in Berlin it’s also being very direct and not the American kind of way where everything is awesome.

New York is not completely like that.

Yes, I know. I travelled through the US quite a bit when I was younger and also have relatives there and with them everything is awesome and great.

California, where I’m from we say 'es ist alles gut’, is that right? We say it’s all good. It’s very difficult to find directness. If someone has a problem with you they will just not contract you again but in New York they will probably tell you directly.

Sometimes it’s better but not always.

I have a problem with my landlord. She is very direct, too direct for me.

[laughing] You should never move into my flat.

The lady I called her my friend. I said “Thank you, my friend, I appreciate it”. And she was like “Why do you call me your friend?”. And Americans call people your friend and I was thinking, it’s not just Americans, it’s Africans, it’s South Americans, people from the sun.

I think I read in an interview from you from a few years ago - I think before you did the big journey with your motorcycle. You said you come home and you have all these new contacts and all these new friends and you said who is your friends really? Who you would contact when you feel bad? In Germany it’s different. I had the same. People keep saying 'oh, you have all these friends in music industry’ but for me friends are people I call when I feel bad and not where I have to contact the PR person to arrange an interview to tell the person I feel bad in the interview. [laughs]

Yes, I think of Ray Charles there is at-home-Ray and then there is On-Stage-Ray. I think as a performer you’re going in and out of these worlds and there are a small amount of people who don’t cross into each others worlds very easily. Like my sister doesn’t completely understand exactly what I do. She has a different perspective than maybe say a radio DJ.

But it’s the same for me. I have my real friends and the ones from music industry and they don’t connect. I barely take my friends with me to concerts. But it’s on a smaller scale really. I can totally understand your landlord. I’d ask the same.

I told her that I think the close people that you love should fit on two hands but it’s ok to say 'my friend’ to everybody else. I think that’s ok. I prefer that kind of world. I think it’s sort of humanity to be kind to humanity but she didn’t see it that way. I was saying 'wow, we’re very different’ because I believe human being can love anybody, even the worst human beings can love each other. Maybe if we trust each other with love maybe we get the best from people.

But it’s hard to trust.

But I don’t think of trust when I talk to the lady at the Döner Kebap place, I just say 'Hi, how are you doing, my friend? Nice to see you.’ but that doesn’t mean that I can’t trust her. […] I also grew up near the beach.

The beach is a magic place of it’s own…

Yeah, if that’s your foundation and you have a connection with the environment and nature then that’s honesty, that’s truthful. Human beings are a little bit funny. Do you know what I mean? That’s an interesting difference.

You’re writing your own songs now, you’re going on solo tour in April – is it different to develop your own songs now? I know you’ve done it before but now there is no band around you. There is no conversation about how to build up the songs.

Yes, it’s different because the possibilities are different, sonically. On my record I think I’ll only have drums on one song. I’m trying to get as minimal as possible. But that’s not new for me. I was playing for a lot of years before I ever met Eric.

I keep thinking that you get used to stuff, you get used to having people around you and you and Eric worked for many, many years together.

It’s a bad example but maybe it’s like a theatre group and you’ve done a production for many years in Broadway or something and then the actors have to go to other things. Some of those Broadway productions like Les Miserable or Cats have been going for decades. People do them for a long time. It’s crazy.

Yes, sometimes it’s their lifetime job in a way. Quite weird. And some just do it for a few years and then they’re gone.

You know what’s really interesting: I always thought…remember Titanic and this Céline Dion song? I think she signed this huge contract in state in Vegas for the rest of her career which is really interesting: no travel, no new records, just performing a show in Vegas for the next 20 years. I don’t know what happened to her.

I think she’s still playing the show and sometimes somewhere else.

It’s weird. I think that used to happen more in the 60ies and 70ies with Sinatra and those guys. They would go to Vegas and live like Kings. There was no more touring and they could kind of retire but sing in the daytime. It’s a very strange history of performers that those people could do that. It’s interesting.

You can still make the money. Live shows are still the one income. The best earning bands are always the bands which are touring, especially in the US where it’s terribly expansive to go to a concert, to the big ones at least. So, you’re doing this but you don’t have to spend the money and time on travelling and the people have come to you. But it’s still weird.

Super weird. I think it’s taking your talent and making it a 9 to 5 job instead of a travelling gypsy life. I have been living it a long time. It has some problems, too.

It doesn’t go easy. You got to be on to make money all the time, you got to be hustling – is that the right word? Now you’ve started this Patreon - do you think having sponsors for you is the way forward for musicians?

I think it depends on what you’re doing. Everybody has a different path and everybody has different skills. I looked at many different options. I thought this one was great because people can come and get something different then everybody had before. They can leave whenever they want. They can pay whatever they want.

What I was thinking… I liked Nirvana a lot when I was young. When I liked Nirvana I had to go to a store to buy a poster, I had to buy a t-shirt and then I had to buy a CD and the I had to buy a magazine and then I had to buy a concert ticket. And then I had to look for other people to wear the same t-shirt and then we would connect and we would share the same passion for this. I was thinking now what if Kurt Cobain performed for you in his kitchen like twice a month and he send you a personal letter and he had a meet and greet before his show and he responded to your questions and he had talks about politics and cooking and how to write a song and all? Instead of spending money on the poster, a concert ticket and all of that, you just gave him twenty dollars a month or ten dollars a month or 5 dollars a month. I think that’s cool.

I’ve just learned about it and for me it seems like a really good solution, especially for what you get. I know some artists who pre sale concerts where they organize the concert when they sell enough tickets in advance. That was always kind of weird for me.

If you think about the gold rush in California… in 1849 they discovered gold. People from around the world went there. And then people started going west. People went there for work and a whole industry was build of of Gold. Hotels, prostitutes, people selling jackets, foods and restaurants and it developed into a little economy. I think what’s happened if you imagine a gold rush for music that happened 60/70 years ago and several years later the internet happened. Pretty soon all the restaurants and the prostitutes and all the hotels died. Now this is musical ghost town. I think the way the industry is going we’re going to see very good bands doing one or two records before they end. And all the executives will get as much money out of them as they can and then they’ll drop them and move to a new artist.

If you work in a major label, not those indie labels, it is all about to get as much as money as possible for you and not for the artist.

I think it’s because if you imagine Africa like the Sahara or you imagine Lions and Giraffes and there is a lack of meat, there is not enough meat for all the animals, so they are behaving very badly. It’s like New York City. If you think of ants, the insects, if you put them in an ant farm and you put too many ants in there they’re angry ants. This is New York City. They’re very angry, they fight, they’re nasty ants because there are too many of them. Now if you take Africa like the Serengeti and there is not enough meat you look at how the animals react and that’s what’s happening to music.

Yes, that’s why I like to focus on smaller bands, indie labels and bookers where I often know the people behind it in person. Huxley’s is already a huge venue for me and often I go to five concerts a week. Often I’m the only photographer there.

I like that. You can feel the energy so well. Also, the production has to be so massive. In the old days, the 80s and 90s, the tours were a promotional device to sell records. Tours supported the album sales. Album sales number one, tour it’s ok when you loose money because album sales were what we were all eating from. That’s gone. Now it’s reverse. Albums are just a promotional device for the tours. Now you have a big problem if gas is expensive, hotels are expansive. The only option is to make the tickets expansive like these bands in America you were telling me about. But what kind of fun is that when a ticket is 60 Euros? It’s fucking bullshit.

For me it would be impossible to go to any concerts like this if I had to pay. I don’t have that much money.

I read in an interview that when you write you used to imagine yourself into a different place like a desert. Is it something that you still do or was it replaced by travelling?

No, I think every time we talk we’re telling stories. I talk to you and you told me that you’re from Berlin and how it was when Berlin had a wall and how old you were and what kind of concerts you go to and what you do for work. You told me that in one hour. This is what human beings are doing. We are constantly telling stories, every day. I just went to this party. It was crazy, there was free beer and there was techno. You’re telling a story. The same goes with songwriting. I think writers like to go to different environments because it makes them think differently. If you want to keep things fresh and new you have to keep thinking differently.

In what way do you think differently when you go somewhere else?

I was just in Nepal and I really couldn’t believe the differences between Buddhists and Hindus. I thought it was really interesting. They both had a completely different feeling to me. I was in Vietnam and I saw a lot of Soviet flags and I saw a lot of alcoholism which I didn’t expect. When I went to Kenya I saw a lot Malaria and a lot of alcohol. People were pouring vodka in their beer. Every time I see something like this it makes me go home and think about things before I go to sleep. That collectively after a lot of days like that you start adding a little influence of what you’re seeing into your work. I’ve been fascinated with the Berlin wall. That if you were married and somebody was in the east or the west and they put the wall up you just couldn’t see them again. For me it is very difficult to understand if you told somebody who says 'I want to travel.’ 'No.’ 'But why?’ 'Because you can’t’ 'But why can’t I?’ 'Because of the rules.’

With that questions you’d already be on the red list.

'Because of our laws’ 'Why are our laws here?’ 'Because of our ideology.’ 'Well, I don’t have a problem with this ideology, can I please go?’ I think to visit the wall makes me realize that this is possible in the west. I just came from the far east, from Asia, and I saw a lot of things that were hard to understand. I was seeing the West for being the West. So, when I’m in the West I think this is life. No, no, it’s life in the West. When you’re in the East looking at the West, it’s Australia, Canada, America, Britain, Europe, New Zealand… you don’t think this is life. I think that perspective is so important. Also, seeing the Soviet flags in Vietnam was very interesting to me and seeing some residue of that on the memorial for the wall it’s just really… I see a love story in that.

You do?

Yes, I see humans with ideas being put upon them. Humans beings are pure.

They’re pure and they lose that when they grow up. When they’re not innocent children any more and start getting ideas from the outside. The both of us, we still have ideas being out in our head and we believe it’s right but that doesn’t mean it is right.

That’s what’s interesting about the wall. The whole system just ended. It’s just over.

Although the people don’t say it so often but you still have a big difference between East and West Germany. You don’t notice it in Berlin but when you go to the deeper East or the deeper West there are still people who haven’t been to the other “side”. In the east they still have still connective system where you help each other but when you move there from the west you don’t get into this system easily, even in your work place.

I was reading that in the east they did help each other a lot. A lot of people miss the community feeling and what’s really important. There were some good things they had with each other a lot like going naked to the beach and things like that.

Of course it’s not bad all this helping each other but if you go there from the outside you don’t get in there. It’s the same when you move to a small village in West Germany. When you’re from Berlin it’s a different word when you go there.

I feel like this in Ireland sometimes when I’m out in the small villages and stuff and you walk in and people are like 'where are you from?’ because cities are more or less global at this point. Internet has made everybody really connected and then you meet people that really don’t use the internet. That’s like wow. They don’t even realize how big of a decision that is. It’s crazy.

[for a second speechless] Yes, not using the internet nowadays…you don’t get any information any more.

I didn’t think the internet would last. I thought it was like a trend and it was going to go away. And it was getting bigger. I remember when we were in Pela we thought 'fuck, we have to make a website’. We don’t have to make flyers any more. Well, that’s really different.

It also changed playing live. Henry Rollins said it once that when he was in Black Flag they could play different venues in New York City in the same week because the people wouldn’t know. They simply wouldn’t know where they were playing any nowadays everything is on internet. If you play in the same city seven times on day 7 no one would be there because they have seen you six times beforehand.

Also, it has given a voice to the people in Iran or it’s great for music because somebody on a laptop in South Africa can make a cool hip hop record. Before they had to go to a studio and now they don’t have to. Look what it’s done to people sexuality. Kids looking at porn when they’re nine. That’s weird.

That’s crazy. In many ways it’s too much in the sense of what is accessible. I’m lucky because I got to find new music this way very easily, music that hasn’t been featured in a German magazine beforehand.

Or films or interviews… I love it for the interviews. If I think “Dennis Hopper” interview or Merkel interview….

I know. I read a ton of interviews you gave. It’s an easy way to research anything.

It’s great. But then again what I was discussing earlier today is with Obama leaving tomorrow. I was on an airplane and they told me we were having an emergency landing. There was a guy having a fight with another guy in the front of the plane who was drunk, so they just landed the airplane and I did a tweet 'I’m on a airplane. Emergency landing what on earth?- kind of thing. It was on the news. It was on abc, nbc… “Singer of Augustines: a cry for help”. It was fucking crazy because it was not what I was doing. But I saw the the media doing something to get a little more traffic.

That’s how Trump got into the game really because all of these big media outlets saw that Trump is clicks. So, they would report about him. If they just would have downplayed him, I think he wouldn’t have gotten that big.

Yes, exactly. And this is called clickbait. When I landed in New York it was all over the news. It was on the national news. I was on the news, my picture, my band, me playing. And I was like “you assholes, that wasn’t a fucking terrorist.” They implied that it was terrorism but it was a fucking alcoholic. I think if you look at media in this light, the more clicks they get, the more sponsorship they get, the more money they get, they start realizing that news is lucrative. This is a huge problem. In my country when somebody says no Muslims or this Mexico shit, I’m angry.

It’s insane. I grew up in a town surrounded by a wall. It’s no solution for nothing. People will overcome the wall, they will still come into the country – it doesn’t matter. And it’s not such a problem.

I fucking love Mexicans. I stand behind Mexicans. They are the coolest people in the world. They’re family people, their music is really happy. There is so much colour and flavour and their food is fucking awesome. And their girls are pretty and their grandparents are really cute. They’re just great. They have this macho pride. The men with their hair and they all have cool lowriders. They’re awesome. And this fucking guy is going to fucking insult them? What the fuck? And Muslims, too. Muslims are awesome.

To blame a whole religion for a few fucktards? I mean every Christian should be banned. Probably every German should be punished until now… there are probably more Americans killing other Americans is some mass shootings then terrorists doing anything. I have some relatives who don’t want to travel to Berlin any more because of what happened here, even before the thing at the Gedächniskirche happened. You have like mass shootings all the time, you’re not travelling here any more? You had planes crashing into big towers…

I was there. It was crazy. But what was really crazy about it was it was something that happened in the city which kind of made it a New York thing. All the fire fighters were from the neighbourhood and they were all going down there to help. But then it was an international thing. So, it was the worlds business but it was our problem because we lived there with the air and the trains being fucked up. I was 1.3 km away. Very close. We could smell it for a long time and the funerals with the back pipes. It was real for us. The media went fucking crazy with it.

When I heard about it for the first time in the car I thought this must be a joke.

This is also very interesting: Don’t you think it’s fucking crazy that you almost forget that the Pentagon was hit? I think it was a massive diversion of people’s attention. We don’t talk about that. That’s our nations security centre and it was hit with a massive airplane.

It’s because one shows the normal peoples tragedy and the other one shows the weakness of the country. That’s the big difference between those two. That’s why on every 9/11 there is stuff going on like remembrance stuff, even in Germany. No one mentions the Pentagon.

You know another thing: One time after 9/11 there was a protest in front of the United Nations and there were 200.000 people. That’s a lot of people. If you look at a football stadium: That’s two football stadiums of people. The whole Westside was full. You couldn’t drive. It wasn’t on the news. I don’t know if there was a gag order from the government or what was going on. It was a weird time. It was right after it but I saw the government in a different way and I saw the people being innocent - 'don’t look at the Pentagon, look at the towers, just don’t look at the Pentagon’. One of those planes was supposed to hit the White House. Can you imagine what that would have done?

I think then you would have a wall around America already, even the coast.

I didn’t expect this to be political…

Neither did I…

..but it’s ok. With the internet you would think people would be able to get informations out - like in Turkey or with government stuff and developing nations. It’s not a secret any more. They can get their mobile phone videos out into the world but I feel like the media is very, very slippery because what it chooses to support benefits it’s own interests. Obama was just talking about this: If you’re into conspiracy, if you’re into gas and oil, if you’re into whatever your fear is, you can find it. Daily, like a daily newsfeed.

We have all this media but in the when they don’t pick it up and tell the world, no one will notice. They don’t always know what a normal person can handle. We can’t handle everything.

That’s true.

I believe we don’t need to know everything what the government does but the important stuff we need to know. […] That’s the good side of the internet sometimes: you get to know this kind of stuff.

You can inform yourself. The point I’m making is I’m not sure if anybody knows now what is the honest news.

I don’t think anyone ever knew.

William: Maybe we didn’t. That’s what’s funny about Millenials. I think they look at it all like a bunch of bullshit and they don’t vote. If you look at a kid from New : they have seen heroin addicts, they’ve seen prostitutes, they’ve seen porn, they were doing drugs in Highschool. They’re not innocent kids but New Yorkers are so special. They are a different kind of animal. They just don’t care. They have this ability of not caring about things. I’m different. I’m from a small town near the water. And I have seen a fucking lot but I still have this empathy. It’s very difficult. It’s hard on my heart. I admire New Yorkers for being black and white sometimes.

I can be very black and white very often and I admire people who are not because when you are black and white you can be very stuck sometimes.

Or things can’t reach you. And then the empathy part is that things cripple you and you can’t function because it is so hard. For example I’m going on a holiday to Mexico and then you see people with no legs and you’re not having fun any more. You’re like fuck, this is really hard, this is sad and everyone else is like it’s fun, let’s go out, let’s go to the pool. And I’d say 'fuck, that really affected me’. But when you’re born and raised in New York you’re like 'fuck it man, people don’t have legs sometimes. What are you going to do?’ and that’s a big difference.

I never go to the pool. [We both laugh.] Let’s see if I have another question about music here – I never talk about politics. I know that a couple of years ago you were always questioning yourself if music is your true calling or still just a foolish endeavor – have you made up your mind now?

I think things have changed a little bit. I look at it like Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chaplin was a silent film star, same era as Buster Keaton. When sound came a lot of actors couldn’t survive. Some of them did. Chaplin did a couple of films, Keaton did a couple of films. I don’t look at it that it’s not worth my time. I look at it as it is to survive from the silent film into films with sounds. I have to change because I love music too much to let Spotify fuck me up and I love music deeply, I love art deeply, so Youtube is not going to fucking stop me but I have to smart now.

It’s really difficult.

They said The Clash looked like a gang, like a street gang. They’re all brothers and they’re up there and I think that that’s beautiful but I think that there’s… I tell you constantly being afraid for your security, working… We did 250 concerts on 'Raise Ye Sinking Ships’, that’s a lot of concerts. If you’re playing six nights a week, 2,5 hours a night, and you can’t go to the dentist there is something really wrong. It’s sad and it’s just not fair but it’s not Charlie Chaplin’s fault that silent films ended. You have to look at things differently.

There is also this myth that artists have to suffer. If you’re not an artist, you look at it that they have to suffer in order to create good art but I personally don’t think it’s part of the process. You need stories, you need a life, you need experiences.

There are a lot of misconceptions. I love this about actors. Like Natalie Portman has been gone for like five years but she just has been a mother. That always cool about actors. Musicians don’t have the same luxury.

The level until they have this luxury is really, really high.

Yes, what you have is basically an Indie ghetto. Indie music is like a ghetto. You can’t get out and the people who got out before 2004, like Modest Mouse, they had a big hit, Interpol, those bands will be ok. For those people who came after them like Vampire Weekend or Foals there is a struggle. And below Foals, Augustines or below Augustines blablabla. We’re stuck in a financial ghetto.

When I look at a band like the Augustines it seems so weird. In the end you’ve been big, for me at least. It makes no sense that there is a struggle.

Well, think about it this way: A lot of it is the cost of touring. If you look at publishing – that’s television, commercials – and you look at album sales and you look at touring. If publishing doesn’t happen - maybe because this band is just isn’t really good for commercials or maybe it’s so competitive that they can’t get into commercials. Then the album sales are nothing any more. Eminem came out with a number 1 album and he sold 200.000 records in a country of 350 Million. That’s one country. You take that away. That leaves touring. Then you look at petrol, you look at a bus is 30.000 € a month. You see how little oxygen there is. You can’t breath. The reason why it’s like a ghetto is because that’s what happens in ghettos: no health care, no dentist, you can’t go see a psychologist if you need help, you can’t pay your collage loans. You can’t do anything. You have a lack of mobility. And then people say 'well, you need to grow up’. I’m in my 30ies. I’ve worked for 20 years. Why can’t I enjoy the fruits of my labour? It’s because everyone is listening to your shit for free. I know it sucks but people just don’t value value music, they don’t think they should have to pay for it any more.

They don’t value art. The difference is if you have a painting it’s a one off thing, so people pay money for it, or they go to a museum where they pay entrance fee or the government pays stuff to keep the museum alive. But when you are a band it’s very rare that you have financial support from the government.

I heard Canada does that.

There is a little bit, in some countries there is but it’s not very much.

This is my theory that you’re only going to see bands alive for two years. Two records maximum. You’re not going to see a band like Guster who have been together for 25 years, still an Indie band, or Yo La Tengo, Sonic Youth…

I read a while back that when you’re becoming bigger as a band you’re playing bigger venues, lesser shows and it’s lesser people as well because when you’re smaller you play these crazy 30 dates tours in small venues over the UK. Overall you have more people there. And now you’re back to busking. I saw a video you posted the other day.

I’m ok with that. Honestly it got big enough to a point where I couldn’t go out after the show because people were drunk and they wanted selfies. You can’t go out and be a part of the night any more. That part started to be kind of shitty to be honest.

I imagine. I wasn’t one of those people after your concert but I can be one of those.

I think everyone is excited. They have been looking forward to the night but what happens if you have a cold, what happens if I have a cold or my girlfriend just yelled at me and we were having a fight. You don’t have very much privacy. When you have a bus you can escape to the bus but you’re lying in your bunk which is like a coffin. Everyone’s one the bus, drinking and having fun and you just want to be normal so bad. Every night’s Friday night.

It must be crazy.

It’s crazy and it’s also very difficult to see people being not very good at their jobs. It’s also very difficult to see clubs not spending the money they should on their equipment, so the microphones are bad or their shit is not working very well. You’re just trying to give the best performance because you care for your fans because they have driven so far to see you or they flown in to see you and you can’t do your job because these guys are being cheap. It’s frustrating.

When you’re busking it’s just your own, it’s just you, your equipment, your guitar, singing about Netto….

Improv, improv, improv…

I think that is pretty cool and pretty special. I can understand why someone would play a smaller venue or go busking because I love this connection between the artist and audience which is more direct. In the Huxley’s you might see the first rows or when the light goes on a mass of people. You can’t realize who is standing there.

To be honest with you they want it to be dark so it’s Rock'n'Roll but I understand that. I was a busker before. I love the nights where people are like 'come one, play us this song, play us that song’ and you’re drinking all night and you’re just there for the right reasons. And then you play a festival and Kanye West is three hours late to a fucking concert. It’s just a different thing.

I don’t really like Festivals. Two last questions. I always love ask them. The first one is: How long did it take you to find your own voice – the singing voice but also the way your write?

That’s a great question. Probably ten years.

How did you know that this is you know, that it’s not sounding like someone else?

I don’t know. I think I just stopped thinking about it. I really love Blues music and Americana when I was young and then I found better records or more modern records. I was listening to that. I think it’s just easier to do me than to do somebody else. It takes a while. I’m glad that I’m from Generation X because maybe you had 20 CDs or 20 records but you knew them very well, every word. And now it’s so much in your phone or in your iPad or whatever. People are just listening to two songs of a record. Today has a lot of good things about today.

The other question I like to ask is: When you’re writing a song do you have a certain process or is it just sudden inspiration?

It’s weird. It changed. When I was younger, in my late Teens, early Twenties, I couldn’t afford alcohol, so I drank a lot of coffee. I would stay up all night, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and writing. As I’ve gotten older I realizes the morning is the best time for ideas so I just like to lay in bed, looking up at the celling for like an hour and trying to explore different ideas. The morning brings a lot to me. That’s a new workplace for me. It used to be at night.

You grew old then?

I guess. Happens to everybody. [we both laugh]

End. Thank you for taking the time, Billy!

I highly recommend everyone to go to his upcoming Music For The People Tour:

www.williammccarthy.org

Thank you for reading,

Dörte

P.S. Thank you, Mark!

P.P.S. And if I managed to leave a good impression during the interview, I probably ruined it straight away when I asked for this after we’ve left the bar but you have to capture the good moments, right?

#william mccarthy #billy mccarthy #augustines #interview #on tour #music for the peple #pela #tour

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nicolasrealestate · 10 months ago

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Want to Buy a Finca and Building Plot in Mallorca? Nicolas Real Estate Group is a Best Choice to Buy

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jeremystrele · 6 years ago

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51 Luscious Luxury Dining Rooms Plus Tips And Accessories For Decorating Yours

We focus on meal times during annual special festivities and personal anniversaries, but sitting down to break bread together is something that should always carry a sense of ceremony. Enjoying this daily activity with the added shine of a luxury dining room design means that every day can feel like a special occasion – without all the added prep and hoo-ha. Inspiration for luxury dining furniture and decor can come in many shapes and forms, so we have put together a whopping 51 images of our favourite dining room decor schemes to draw inspiration from. Plus, we offer a few tips and tricks that can be adapted to fit many different room sizes and budgets.

Visualizer: Dvice Inc The ceiling is just as important as the floor – sometimes more so. If you want to create an intimate feel for your dinner parties, visually lower a ceiling by installing a dark feature, like a stained wood slat design. This tip can work in just about any room dimensions but use caution on low ceilings, you don’t want to leave your diners feeling claustrophobic.

Visualizer: Bashar Swileh A live edge dining table isn’t just for rustic cottages. Live edge tables are big news right now and there are sizes to suit all sorts of dining room floor plans.

Visualizer: MONO Architects Define your dining area on a flat woven rug. You don’t have to create an island of colour with your rug, even one in a similar tone to the existing floor will create a luxury island on which to welcome your guests.

Visualizer: Render Vision Accentuate the head and the foot of the table with a different colour chair – or a completely different chair design altogether.

Visualizer: Bui Ni Use oversized dining room pendant lights in multiples to make a bold, expensive looking statement… Even cheaper lighting options can look high-end when set in twos or threes.

Visualizer: David Straka If you’ve got the budget for one big stand out chandelier then it’s a great way to set a high-end scene.

Visualizer: Naira Omar Add a stylish sideboard and a sparkling mirror. These ones are set against an undulating feature wall for added effect.

Visualizer: Ri Ko Use colour in unexpected ways. Not only do these glass globe pendants bring a cluster of rouge to the table, but ombre window drapes dip a toe into the blue spectrum too. Behind the monochrome dining set, a random section of wainscot has been picked out in a blush tone.

Visualizer: Lanre Alao Alternatively, you don’t have to be so subtle with colour. Great swathes of turquoise and red crash up against each other in this wide open space, where masks decorate the bright volumes.

Visualizer: Maxim Tsiabus Use two different dining chair silhouettes to encircle your table. You can pick them out in similar shades for a subtle yet interesting effect.

Visualizer: Vittorio Bonapace A black dining room looks decadent with gold trimmings and accessories, like this shining gold finish chandelier.

Visualizer: Mykhaylo Faydula & Uliana Yanishevska Change out the flooring beneath the dining zone in an open plan home.

Visualizer: 4 Pixos A large or linear dining table light is another effective way to anchor your table in an free-flowing living space.

Visualizer: Cubico 3D A formal dining area gives you options. You might be happy perched at the breakfast bar for most meals, or sitting out on the patio. However, you will be thankful for that formal eating option when festivities roll around and when hungry guests stop by.

Visualizer: UNA Arquitetos Create a warming effect with wall to wall wood. This sunny dining room is clad in wood panels and furnished with matching wood grain dining room furniture. A concrete ceiling balances out the scheme with a cooler finish. A glass exterior and dividing wall gives the natural toned room full views of the garden.

Visualizer: Djamal Mustafaev Suspend dining table lights close to the table – even from ultra high ceilings. This fabulous design is the Vibia Match Suspension.

Architect: Drozdov Partners If possible, consider installing a fireplace. This one has a log burning stove and integrated log store. Copper pendant lights hang above a wooden table that matches the tones of the cut logs. The seats are Flow dining chairs.

Visualizer: Archviz Mallorca Bring in natural greenery. This dining pendant includes planters to bring the garden right to the table.

Visualizer: Bui Ni Dress to impress – the table that is. Use floral arrangements or classic candles to set the scene, even when the table is not in use. This floral centrepiece picks out the rich colour of the formal dining chairs.

Photographer: Lorenzo Pennati Add a reflective wall to double the sense of space. This can be done with mirrors, smoked or coloured glass, or high gloss panels.

Visualizer: Nikita Dyagiltsev Introduce a sense of movement with a veined marble feature wall…

Visualizer: Rosendo Maximiliano Mesillas … Or a marble dining table and/or a marble effect rug.

Designer: Summer Thornton Decorate with shape. The circular silhouette of Platner dining chairs has great synergy with a Saarinen tulip table.

Visualizer: Lorenzo Pennati Add elegance to a shadowy corner with an attractive screen. This is also a great way to disguise a bank of electrical sockets or cover up a small study area.

Visualizer: Double Aye Meld contemporary with traditional. These chic modern dining chairs have classic tufted upholstery. The room decor follows suit with the theme, with contemporary monochrome prints hung against a wall of boiserie.

Visualizer: Harun Kaymaz Fashion a feature wall, like this rustic exposed brickwork wall that’s cut through with a marble stripe.

Visualizer: Double Aye Give amazing tables room to breathe.

Visualizer: Dumbrava Traian Another strong shape theme; this time with elliptical pendant lights complementing the outline of the Gubi Beetle chair.

Visualizer: Alesya Kasianenko Match without repetition. Pick out a dining chair design that is available in several different colourways and purchase a varied selection. Change up the lighting by selecting two chandeliers or pendant lights that share similarity without being identical.

Visualizer: Erlind Llanaj & Ervin Arizi Create a cocoon of calm. If a thoroughfare runs alongside your dining area, or the table is adjacent to a busy wall of doors, consider installing a buffer. Slatted screens are a great way to divide the space without closing it in.

Visualizer: U Design Backlit dining room cabinets add a cosy glow.

Visualizer: Focus Float a shoal of paper lanterns over the table. The grouping will create a sculptural attraction by day and a glowing spectacle by night.

Visualizer: Angelina Alekseeva Create a luxury rustic dining room by teaming natural wood and raw brickwork, or stone, with sleek modern pieces.

Visualizer: David Straka Not all dining areas are confined indoors; blur the boundaries for a luxury al fresco dining experience.

Visualizer: Alexander Uglyanitsa Don’t fall short on exposed ducting and metalwork accessories to manufacture a luxury industrial dining room effect.

Visualizer: Leqb A large lazy susan ensures everyone is served smoothly.

Visualizer: Anna Pahomova Brighten up an existing suite by adding new additions. A colourful designer chair at either end will transform the look.

Visualizer: Amr Moussa If there isn’t room for a sideboard in your dining room, try a long wall shelf to create a display instead.

Visualizer: Dezest Design Traditional crystal chandeliers add sparkle for sure, but a modern chandelier can be just as eye-catching.

Visualizer: CG Walls Enrich a white scheme with precious rose gold.

Visualizer: Ugo Concept Choose a dining table chair combination that properly fits your space. A small suite in a large room will look lost – but go to large and diners will feel uncomfortably packed in. Allow room for people to easily leave the table.

Visualizer: Color Room Interiors It’s all about the glow. Dining pendant lights are top of the list for illuminating mealtimes but don’t forget to include side lighting to build ambiance.

Visualizer: Nicolas Jouslin You may not currently have a dedicated area for formal dining, but a small luxury dining room can be fashioned in all sorts of spaces. This table and modern dining chairs are situated right by the home library stacks.

Visualizer: AtViz Enjoy the simple elegance of a fresh Scandinavian dining room…

Visualizer: Kanstantsin Remez … Or a cool minimalist dining room design.

Visualizer: Igor Sirotov A dining area can run directly off a kitchen island. Add a low hanging pendant light by the dining stools to set the tone.

Visualizer: Artem Bobrov The striking contrast of a black and white dining room is sure to impress any taste.

Visualizer: Stanislav Gritsenko A nomadic dining room features natural textures and items that seem to have their own story… You just can’t help but think about the past life of that dramatically gnarled live edge dining table.

Visualizer: Tаrаs Horoduskyy Time travel into a futuristic dining room. A bleached-out white on white design lands a perfect space age look.

Visualizer: Double Aye Enliven the beat-up industrial look with some eye-popping colour. A meandering path leads the way to an upcycled dining table in this open plan industrial style home; the metal table has been coupled with a set of fire engine red dining chairs.

Visualizer: En Eimis Find drama in your natural surroundings. From the awesome rock face feature wall to the organic lightshade, this luxurious dining room celebrates all that is natural and part of this home’s magnificent location.

1. Menu Dropp fruit bowl 2. Saarinen Tulip style dining chair 3. Secto sculptural pendant 4. Menu ceramic salt and pepper shakers 5. Alessi lily bird sauce container 6. Decorative driftwood vase 7. Luxury Chandelier 8. Saarinen Oval Dining Table 9. Unique wine glasses

Recommended Reading: 51 Luxury Bedrooms With Images, Tips & Accessories To Help You Design Yours 50 Luxury Bathrooms And Tips You Can Copy From Them Luxury Kids’ Room Interior Design

51 Luxury Living Rooms And Tips You Could Use From Them

51 Luxury Bedrooms With Images, Tips & Accessories To Help You Design Yours

Luxury Kids' Rooms

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Shared Kids' Rooms

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drewebowden66 · 6 years ago