EBBA. unearth the bones

Editors letter. Ebba is a nomadic publication that aims to bring you an honest

impression of the world. Capturing the sense of a place from a perspective people may

not have noticed before. With a different location every month, Ebba is not trying to sell

the place to you, but give you a new side to it. We want to unearth the bones, and build an archive for the

places around us.

In this edition we venture to the seaside towns of Blackpool and Whitby.

Making this my 7398th trip to Blackpool and my 1st ever to Whitby, I saw both in a different way.

Both proving that you never know what or who you may find

at the end of a pier.

kelly’s eye.

EBBA

.

me

and

you.

Playlist.

cup of tea.

Rae Morris – Way Back When Paolo Nutini – One Day

Sivu – Better Man Than HeAmber Run – Spark

Van Morrison – Brown Eyed GirlNeil Diamond – America

The Carpenters – Close To You Morrisey – Everyday is like Sunday

Content. Blackpool.

A poem about a padlock. Whitby.

Introducing.

Contact. www.facebook.com/Ebba

instagram - @ebbatwitter - @ebba

OH I DO

Like TO BE

BESIDE THE

SEASIDE

knoc

k at

the

doo

r.

man alive.

lucky seven.

golden

gat

e.

lucky seven.

As I step out of my dads’ trusty Peugeot 306, it has done well to deal with my mothers constant U-turns for 50 miles, I am blasted with Kylie Minogue reminding us she’s still spinning around. Yep, the only place to have a boom box as a multi-story car park. Blackpool. Cheesy pop classics belt out from the rafters, even on this cloudy day there is still an element of sunshine. Looking out over the wall I see the raging sea - I used to refer to as a chocolate milkshake when I was little - climbing its way up the protective walls.

There is a filter of grey over everything I see; this feels strange as lights or the fear of the ‘Big One’ before always blinded me. Not racing my cousins to the Pleasure Beach gave me the time to sit back and actually look at the condition of this seaside town. In the distance a message on a roof stands out prominently to everything else, at the end of the Central Pier ‘FAMILY BAR’ is painted in humongous white capitals for nobody to avoid. I imagine how many families would brave this piece of wood to the very end to explore this vague proposal.

doughnut eyes

doctors orders.

This blunt message gives an insight to Blackpool’s approach to its audience. No nonsense, up for a laugh. You are here for a drink, to let loose and sink into a rickety bar stool and to the bottom of a Stella glass. Sudden memories of childhood caravan holidays come rushing back. Cops and Robbers, arguments over where ‘base’ actually was, our aunties constantly telling us to go play outside. Unaware of the lingering cigarette smoke in the air, that made your eyes sting. Running to the kids play area to make sure your 50p was still sitting on the pool table eagerly waiting to beat the winner that stayed on.

downing

stree

t.

I still know every line to Neil Diamonds ‘America’, the song of my childhood thanks to my Uncle Paul who graced every possible karaoke bar to give his rendition of the classic. Every time the bars congregation sang back with so much energy as if they themselves were on their way to the land of the free. My cousins drag me up, no matter how unenthusiastic I may be at the thought of killing My Heart Will Go On for the 10th time that evening. I was happy to draw pictures of dogs all over the black chalkboard and use the pink one until it was a mere raisin in the palm of my hand.

legs eleven.

We battle with the weather along the sea front; the Primark umbrella my mother just bought from Primark in an attempt of cover impresses me. The weather

forecast was irrelevant for us to check apparently, excitement to get away to the seaside far more important.

I now wish I was in the queue for the log flume, having my dad shove this £1 rain mac that smelt like erasers over my head to keep me the tiniest tad dryer.

one

doze

n.

I read all the engraved names of people who had embellished the ‘Vikings’ walls with ‘we woz ere 2k5’, distracting myself from my anticipation. Looking around the scarce arcade now I struggle to find anything I am willing to spend my money on. I can’t imagine me crying from expecting my parents to change all their life savings into 10p pieces so I could win a rhubarb and custard colored bouncy ball.

unlucky for some.

i have grown up.

The sudden realisation that,

valent

ines

day

.

i have grown up.

(The tower is a lot smaller anyway).

stroppy teen.

The deserted pier, l ike on big plank off a pirates ship. I can hear a ticking clock inviting me to the end. White, rusty seats l ine each side of the pier. You couldn’t imagine the swarms of people who used to grace these seats. The first bit of sunshine, trams full of deck chairs, buckets and spades.

Every surface i look at could give my eyeS a splinter.

Broken seats repaired by a metal bar insisting nobody should sit there. A candyfloss stall is open in the distance, everything sti l l operating even though the heavens have opened. Tom Jones blares out of lone speakers all the way down the pier. No matter what he says, something about this is very unusual. Faint gl istening l ights glow past the grey soaked shutters. This indicates a gl immer of laughter and l ife, a carousel. A carousel traditionally glows with radiance and sparkles with a happy tune. The l ights, gold and gl itter, horses gleaming with pride over their hand painted smi les.

THE PLANK.WALK

unusual to

BE

lovedby

anyone

ITSNOT

dancing queen.

‘The Sunl ight Lounge’ was not named or bui lt with this weather or with this country in mind.

Countless dances were hosted here, the best waltz I had ever seen,

wishing I could dance l ike that. Just two step-ping my

patent white brogue style heels that occa-sionally fell down the sl its in the woodwork

beneath me. Drooping, hanging baskets surround the

circumference, the pale pink flowers the only sense of l ife in here. Gai l

force winds force them to swing from side to side. Opposite this is a huge theatre, I don’t

know how it has managed to stay up as the pi l lars beneath it seem thin and unsteady. A

lone man in a suit stands outside having a cig; he welcomes two ladies in with a

beaming smi le and opens the door. As I move past the red and white tape to signal yet

another missing segment of a wall, I come across the ‘Stage Door’. I wonder who would

have entered from the pier straight onto the stage, chatting with the punters outside, warming

up the crowd. Here we are again, just my Ernie and me, our memories are here forever,

and we made sure of that.

key of the door.

two

little

duc

ks.

a duck and a flea.

“R’Julie used to love it here.” “The amount of times she fell on this pier by’eck!” “I know, didn’t half give me a heart attack from time to time, the twig of her I don’t know how she didn’t break somethin’” “Good job n’all, wouldn’t care to take our lot to an emergency room would you?” “Out of the nine of ‘em she always decided what the rest of ‘em would go on, and when.” “Our little bossy boots.” “Dya want t’get an ice cream?” “In this weather, you’re off yer head!” “Go on Brends, you’re not in Blackpool every day are ye? And I love a good flake me.”

Areet you’ve twist me arm, one for R’Julie.”

duck and dive.

APL

pcik a

nd m

ix.

ADOCK

gateway to heaven.

in a

sta

te.

A padlock.Doesn’t matter what type;

commitment is all that is needed. “C’mon Brenda I’m spitting feathers!” I

pleaded, My bru standing cold on the side.

A padlock. Sixty years ago I met my sweetheart right

here, Just over there at the end of the pier,

She brings me my brew.

A padlock. Nothing has changed except the paint has

now chipped, I march up to speak to her but of course

I slipped.The embarrassment still warms my face

even now.

A padlock. The seagulls begin to laugh like

everyone else, But I look at her smile and all my

trouble just melts. Very much like my rich tea biscuit, dunk.

A padlock. Pity or not I no longer care,

An angel has just come and answered my prayer.

She helps me to my feet, not for the last time.

A padlock. From that moment on we just laugh care

free,Not anything in front of us but the

never-ending sea. Oh how simple we thought it all was.

rise and shine.

A padlock.As we stand facing each other my mates give

a cheer, I look at her and everything seems clear.

That’s when I knew I’d marry my B.

A padlock. I will never forget how she looked in that

frock, “Ernie, dya want another bru cock?”

The kettle might as well stay boiled forever.

A padlock. The collection of rust, dark gold’s are

cemented,I can’t help but remember all the times I

repented.How my love still makes the best cups of tea.

A padlock.

Breaking was never an option for you and I,Not even when we have to say bye.

“Brenda you’re catching flies again!”

A padlock. Through thick and thin, I wouldn’t know where to begin.I am entwined to my Brenda,‘Together forever”.

blind

30.

get up and run.

TRANSYLVANIA.A trip to Whitby to hunt for Dracula.

buck

le m

y sh

oe.

dirty knees.

ask

for mor

e.

jump and jive.

thre

e do

zen.

more than eleven.

chris

tmas

cak

e.

all the steps.

blind

40.

time for fun.

winne

h th

e po

oh.

down on your kneew

s.

all t

he fou

rs.

halfway there.

up to

tricks

.

four and seven.

"THERE

AREW

HICH

mEN

can

ONLY

GUESS AT,

age

WHICH

age by

they MAY

SOLVE

ONLY

four

doz

en.

MYSTERIES

IN

PART."- Bram Stoker.

rise and shine.

introducing

Rae Morris.

A cold afternoon in February, in a dark lecture theatre engrossed by Burberry Prorsums AW/12 at exactly 4:48 into the show I suddenly shot up. Watching that show even now gives me goosebumps at this very moment. I instantly wanted to know who was singing and why I had never heard them before. I had never heard something so angelic yet incredibly powerful. Captivating moments of light and shade throughout the song ‘Walls’ that she sang for the Buberry show left me wondering who this person was. First thing I did after that lecture was run home and find out where I could listen to this song again. There I found Rae Morris. 2 years later I finally got the chance to see Rae at the fanastic intimate venue in Newcastle called The Cluny. I bought my mum a ticket and told her she must drive up from Manchester that very day to accompany me. The amazing band and the great acoustics of this small venue really brought her music to life. A single spotlight highlight Rae and her beloved piano hypnotising you to listen to every lyric.

Going from writing her own material in her room at home she now is writing songs with bands such as Clean Bandit. Which I could tell have a more pop, catchy sound which did lighten up the set but I hope she still continues to write and produce songs full of emotion. Having supported artists such as Bombay Bicycle Club and George Ezra, I think it is only a matter of time before she follows in their footsteps. And I will be able to say I saw her for under a tenner.

Her eagerly awaited debut album, Ungaurded, is out on the 26.01.2015 and head to raemorris.co.uk to download her latest single ‘Dont Go’ for free!

Check out her phenominal support act, another as soon as you hear them artist you have to listen again and again.Sivu (www.sivusivu.co.uk)

age : 22 hometown : blackpool

bulls

eye

.

tweak of the thum

b.