The good people at Creative Boom have compiled a great list of 70 of the best blogs for creative inspiration, meaning that – and I quote – ‘you never need to go elsewhere or waste hours of your precious time scouring through the search engines’. Sounds just the job – check it out here.
- Never walk directly over a set of three drains or manhole covers.
- Never walk under a ladder.
- Wear a predominantly purple or royal blue tie on Thursdays, and a predominantly black tie on Fridays and/or when attending meetings.
- Keep all bus and train tickets.
- Do not read your horoscope after 1am on the day to which the horoscope refers.
- Touch wood whenever you have a negative thought or say something negative, and before getting into a vehicle or boarding any form of transport.
- Unplug all plugs before leaving the house.
- Do not consume alcohol before giving any kind of speech or performance, and do not drink on a Sunday unless you are not working the next day.
- Salute a magpie immediately on sight.
The Woodhead Tunnels are three parallel trans-Pennine 3-mile (4.8 km) long former railway tunnels on what was the Woodhead Line, a major rail link from Manchester to Sheffield. The western portals of the tunnels are at Woodhead in Derbyshire and the eastern portals are at Dunford Bridge, near Penistone, South Yorkshire.
Woodhead One was one of the world’s longest railway tunnels when it was opened in 1845. Woodhead Two was completed in 1853 and Woodhead Three in 1953. Passenger services ended in 1970 and the last train passed through in 1981.
Forgotten Relics of an Enterprising Age offers an interesting long-read on the development of the tunnels, their decline and their possible future. Check it out here.
The window of opportunity, Johnny now saw, was small. Four years, perhaps: 18 to 22, and then your odds of ‘making it’ flatlined. A world in love with youth, attitude, and not necessarily talent. He saw it everywhere. Music simply happened to be the neatest analogy. You could be the best drummer in the world but who willingly, consciously went to a gig in anticipation of an extended mid-set solo? Who went to a concert to pick out the Mixolydian from the Lydian modes, fawning over the free-form jazz excursion? No one. People wanted anthems, stadium-fillers, to feel a part of something; to know whether they had a lot going for themselves simply by knowing the words to a song. They wanted the singer to look good. This was everything.
What is immediately striking about Jenny Hval’s third studio album Apocalypse, girl is the Norwegian’s fearlessness in exploiting speech and melody to convey her highly individual worldview. More: