#So one year he gets gifted the pictures that appear in his guinness records (with his parents)

[potatounicoorn]

I think Dick has totally appeared in Guinness world record book or two. Like in dc universe him and his parents are the only ones able to do the quadtruple somersault, no way they wouldn't have some sort of world recording of it.

[wallpapernifty]

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A 72-year-old man from Leicester has claimed the apple almanac for the oldest actuality to row beyond the Atlantic solo, afterwards about missing out on the approval aback he was absolute off advance aloof six afar from shore.

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Graham Walters had to alarm for abetment from the bounded coastguard aloof off Antigua, his final destination, aback able apprehension blew him off aisle and his apple almanac attack afraid in jeopardy.

However, the Ocean Canoeing Society, the official Guinness Apple Annal adjudicators for rowing, accept now accepted that Walters will accept the almanac for the oldest actuality to row any ocean solo, as able-bodied as the oldest actuality to row an ocean added than once.

It was Graham Walters’ fifth chance beyond the Atlantic – his third abandoned – and afterwards three months at sea, he’s adequate to be aback on dry land.

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“It feels absurd to accept won two apple records. It feels like acceptance for all that adamantine assignment and ups and downs,” said Walters from Antigua, area he has accustomed a balmy accession including a army of supporters and ability on arrival. “The accession has been incredible, ceaseless advice and bodies giving me ability and presents.”

“I’m aghast that I concluded up actuality towed appropriate at the end but it was the appropriate affair to do – abnormally now I apperceive I accept got my apple record,” he said. “As I was at such a analytical point, I had to face the actuality that if I didn’t booty up the action of abetment again I would absence Antigua.”

He fabricated the chance in the 22-year-old row baiter the George Geary, called afterwards his backward grandfathering the acclaimed cricketer, which he affairs to leave at a building on the island. His accomplishment has already aloft added than £2,500 for Advice for Heroes.

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Related Slideshow: Guinness Apple Annal Day 2019 (Provided by Photo Services)

Walters now faces a diffuse delay afore he can get a flight aback to the UK amidst the coronavirus pandemic, and is still aggravating to get his arch about how abundant the apple has afflicted aback he set off on his ballsy boating in January.

“It’s like I accept been in a balloon and accept now woken up in an another universe,” he said. “In Antigua there are coronavirus restrictions, like I’m accepting to abrasion a mask, but that’s not absolutely a problem.

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“And of course, no one could accord me a hug or a pat on the aback aback I arrived.”

For Walters, the chance was “the aftermost voyage” and marks the end of his campaign beyond the Atlantic.

“I am sad in a way that it was the aftermost

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[wreckthelist]

his hug: meeting Ezra Miller

I remember watching, in passing, the recording of an oldies’ concert at my aunt’s—you know the one, sixties hair with girls losing their heads and minds for the Beatles or bands of equivalent caliber. “I want to be one of those screaming girls in the front row,” I was saying—wistful, trancelike, and feverish in a way your typical nonsensical fangirl can be. “It’s a dream. One day.”

And last night, actually standing there in front row, shaking my head and losing myself to Ezra Miller’s drumming, Lilah Larson’s voice and guitar, and Josh Aubrin’s keyboard playing, could never be more surreal.

I’d never been to a gig at a pub before. I was loitering in the front for a good two-three minutes, before gathering up my courage to wander inside.

Ordered a pint of Guinness (price was upped. But hey, it’s my way of paying for the Free Entry performance, I guess?), stood there sipping for a while until I caught eyes with a friendly-looking Korean girl. Her name is Soohee (Sonny), and we became fast friends, chatting and screaming about Ezra, the band, Doctor Who (Matt Smith), and, of course, Harry Styles (her phone wallpaper).

Lilah walked past from behind Soohee, from the pub’s backdoor to their Reserved Area. She’s so cool, calm, and collected. I was in awe of the all-black get-up and the polished expression on her face. Josh had already passed, at some point (I don’t quite remember this), so Ezra was next. A few minutes later, there he was. Very in the zone. Just cutting straight through, behind us.

We were sitting there, and I regretted screaming a bit already—because I, on a rare occasion, had someone to scream with/to.

So we chatted and waited, and a queue formed before we realised, toward the front of the pub. I forgot the venue was in the basement. And people gathered. We went downstairs, managed to snatch second row seats, and waited for the longest time before the opening act, Jamie Lee, appeared on stage spewing quite decent (self-described as ‘mediocre’) poetry and an acapella song. He spent a few minutes prior to his start picking and choosing through his pile of papers—we were wondering what exactly he was up to.

Think around almost an hour passed (my bad. I’m looking at the photo of the sign now and it’s there, in black and white, that the Sons were up at 9:30pm, not 9pm, as I’d thought.)—before the pub’s runner came out and placed mini water bottles at the front of the stage, by the drum kit (Ez!) and the keyboard.

I remember reading beforehand that they each would write a song and that each could play all their three instruments.

Was chatting animatedly to Soohee while waiting (taking a nap somewhat).

Then the bodyguard came out, followed by the Sons themselves. Just as they were about to start, he grabbed us both and dragged us out to the front.

Breathless with surprise was an understated description of us at that point.

No one was blocking our view. We were, quite literally, the girls in the front row. Dangerously. Intimately. Close to the band.

It was happening, and it was insane.

Live music has its perks, its charms. I, for one, had never thought I’d have a chance (and so close to me leaving dear old England, imagine that) I’d witness one of my favorite actors so immersed in his art, his band that I know he’s been in for 6-7 years, before my own eyes.

I wasn’t there just for Ezra, of course. I wasn’t. It’s the music, the band, and I’m not writing this as a post-mortem excuse to justify my presence there or manipulate my image either.

“Thank you, thank you for coming,” said Ezra, and he pulled out his phone, “This is so amazing. I’m going to take a picture of you guys.”

(Oh. God. So I made it—definitely did—into Ezra’s phone now, no joke. There’s that. Not bragging or anything, but there’s that.)

See, the guitar, blended with Lilah’s magnificent voice (the lush. The layers in her tone, her words, her caressing of those lyrics, the expressions. AH.), Josh’s upbeat, relentless keyboard playing, and Ezra’s powerhouse of a drumming, was a spectacle to behold, a glorious, glorious gift for the aural and visual senses.

Because they were so into it, because they were there and putting all of themselves into it.

Ezra’s bringing the house down, the cymbals and the drumsticks and his face shaking to and fro while playing, contorted and screaming and eyes closed, so into the music.

They broke into an acapella song in the middle (roughly) of the set, coming together at the front of the stage to sing a number about bringing down white supremacy and not stopping until the killing of black men is treated with the same respect and equality as that of the white. To which we all screamed, YES! HEY! YES!

I was holding my phone, and filming the clip, but I raised my arm up high, and screamed.

The rest of the time I was standing there, did some headbanging, closed my eyes, and just soaking it in, the experience, the music, the beats, the voices, losing myself to the music as much as they did.

Ezra took out his phone again at the end. No idea how these would turn out. I’m dying to see them though, fingers crossed should he (or the band!) ever post them.

It’s their first headlining gig outside North America (I know! My sun, my stars, my dreams. I thought I’d never….), after all.

Then came the part where we were a bit of idiots ourselves.

People crowded outside the Reserved Area after the show, waiting for Ezra. Some fans got quick selfies in and left, the rest of us were behind the crowd. He went outside (I saw Josh) for a smoke, not before saying something about (I might have been drinking Guinness on a semi-empty stomach) downstairs and arts and crafts.

So we waited at the exit for the longest time, until one of the security guys told us to go downstairs.

A crowd’s already there. We were quite late, and he’d have to leave soon.

But we stuck it out, and hung around the queue, waiting for our turn. A picture would be enough, we thought.

“Hi,” he said, his voice warm, eyes alert, when he got to me. Again, my coherence and articulation escaped me.

“Hi, hi,” I replied, and managed a, “You were so good!” to which he said, “Thank you!” (I ruminated on this for the longest time, as Soohee can attest, but I should have said: the band. Oh. Well.)

And then I asked:

“Can I get a hug?”

And you know, if you’d been reading this blog, that I’d never asked anyone I met for a hug at that point, until Ezra, whom last night was our second encounter (I thought this morning about how I should’ve told him about the press junket—but it’s not like he’d remember.) and whom I knew I could ask for one.

“Yes, of course!” Then he came in close, those muscled bear arms enveloping me. It was warm and pure and fizzy—and it wasn’t captured on camera, sure, but hug pics don’t always turn out recognizable. It’s two people, faceless, in an embrace, and only you are aware of the meaning behind the photo. (Drumroll.)

I was afraid it was going to be awkward. I was afraid I was not going to know when to let go. But I held on, and he held on. For the longest time. Longer than those fake hugs I’d imagine fleeting encounters consist of. And his arms. His vest. I could feel the fabric. The pressure. Just him being there.

With me.

And then he let go (Bless). I asked him for photos, of course, and said, “Can we do one good pic, one funny pic?” to him (again, when reflecting on this—I have no idea what possessed me to ask him that at that point. I have never.)

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be funny because of my face,” he added, arm around me, and I kept asking in my head, “Why---what made you say that, Ezra!! Your face is not funny.”

He gave me movie star smolders (swoon). I did not get the outrageous pictures Ezra was famous for with fans—but this was incredible enough in and of itself.

We’re back again when it’s all a blur to me. Soohee confirmed we did say ‘thank you,’ twice—I hope I did, because right after he took photos with me he greeted the couple after us, and I had to ask him if he could take pictures with Soohee.

“See, we’re back at this angle again. Just getting this circle of energy going!” Ezra said as Soohee stepped up to him for her photo (I’d taken mine with him at another angle of the room, and Soohee’s were 180 degrees of mine).

We skipped out of the crowd, toward the basement’s exit, Soohee not having asked him for his signatures, because right before us, we heard him saying, “I’d say let’s hug each other, take pictures, and keep moving!” in his cheerful way. “They’re going to clear us out soon.”

(Curse us. Why did we ever go upstairs.)

And the bodyguard (who’d seen us from the beginning, bless his heart) asked if we were okay. We nodded yes.

So that happened. So I’d met Ezra Miller a second time. What a conclusion. What an end to this London life.

It was two minutes, maybe, us there. Talking to him, but it lasted.

Like his hug, it lasted. And I know I’ll have to let go, and go back to reality—but I’m already here. So let me remember it lasting a while, let me remember it while it still lasts in my mind.