Zak Asgard

What we put on our feet says a lot about a person. Shoes define our character. There are shoes that breathe, shoes for diving, shoes for driving, shoes that light up, shoes with wheels in them, shoes that look more like gloves than shoes, shoes by Kanye West, shoes for old people, shoes for the indoors, shoes for hunting, shoes for dancing. You get the point. Neither of them is aesthetically pleasing – at least not for the sane amongst us Then there are Birkenstocks and Crocs: two heinous additions to fashion and yet two very successful brands, albeit for different markets. They are at war. Battling it out for the nation’s feet on metropolitan high streets and in the gardens of our countryside dwellers; a great clog divide of injection-moulded polymer versus leather and cork.

A lonely microphone. A sound system that would have been impressive in the late 1990s. The smell of athlete’s foot and the contents of a Nobby’s Nuts packet. A deranged dog. Three privately educated members of a punk band call ‘SKiN FuK!’ arguing with the bartender. The stale atmosphere of regret and faded dreams mixed in with hope for a brighter tomorrow. It can only be one thing: Tuesday open mic night. ‘This is a scene I wrote a few weeks ago. It’s from the perspective of a baby being born I’ve been to more open mic nights than I’ve had pleasant dreams. They just seem to happen to me. And they can happen anywhere. I’ll be sitting in a knackered pub, minding my business, when the clipboard comes out.

It’s not crazy to worry about getting home. It’s not crazy to lock your doors at night and check that the alarm is set. It’s not crazy to avoid the man who keeps gurning at you on the bus every time you look his way. It’s not crazy to worry. But is spending £50,000 to £500,000 on a bespoke panic room a little… crazy? Probably. But who am I to judge? I still find it hard to answer the phone to a withheld number.    What if your poor cat sitter was feeding your tabby just as your panic room decided to spray chlorine gas all over the place? I could only find one advert from a panic room installation company in the UK. The video shared on the firm’s website is set in London and has a B-movie feel to it.

Totnes is like any other small town in England insofar as there are limited shops and people will try to sell you mouldy produce at an ‘organic’ price. Other than that, it’s a different world. This is the same place that started its own currency – albeit unsuccessfully. The same place that fought back against Costa Coffee and won. And the place where, one day a year, people lose their minds over the prospect of an orange being rolled down a hill. Make of that what you will.  The town’s population swells and people drink and spend time at the beach and listen to old men playing the fiddle while high on ketamine I moved to Totnes after university. I grew up in London, which makes me pretentious and impatient.