1960 Dover Delaware Air Force Base Postcard
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DIRIGINDO ATÉ SANDWICH, Inglaterra 🇬🇧 | (4K) #08
DRIVING from DOVER to SANDWICH; UNITED KINGDOM.
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DIRIGINDO POR DOVER, Inglaterra 🇬🇧 | 2021 (4K) #06
📍DRIVING in DOVER; UNITED KINGDOM.
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DOVER, Inglaterra 🇬🇧 | 2021(4K) #05
📍driving to ST. MARGARET’S BAY in DOVER; UNITED KINGDOM.
Walking tour in the beach.
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Dover- 100% Wool- Nisha Designs
Product description
Dover is an elegant decorative fabric made from 100% extra-fine merino wool. This finely woven fabric is a high-quality curtain in a class of its own. The mulesing-free quality impresses with its soft feel and fine drape. A slight light transmission ensures a pleasant room atmosphere.The subtle melange look in four non-colours – delicate cream, soft grey, walnut and…
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Dover Supply Supplies An Excellent Tale, However Development Requirements To Grab (NYSE: DOV)
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Stephen Simpson is a freelance economic author and investor.Spent near to 15 years on the Road (sell-side, buy-side, equities, bonds).
Expert’s Disclosure: I/we have no supply, alternative or comparable acquired placement in any one of the firms pointed out, and no strategies to launch any type of such settings within the following 72 hours. I composed this…
Dover Supply Supplies An Excellent Tale, However Development Requirements To Grab (NYSE: DOV)
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Frosty trees on the Maine side of the Salmon Falls River as the sun was coming up today.
–December 28, 2025
Dover, New Hampshire
📸 by Rob Wright Images
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“It was a reminder at that point for me that Damon wasn’t just a ruthless careerist maniac, you know, who had no feelings, he was actually flesh and blood and was hurting quite a lot”- Graham Coxon
⊱ ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ⊰
England, 1995.
Damon and I were always the closest ones in the band. Sure me and Alex got on well, but I grew up with Damon and he knew me inside and out. Recently, things have been getting worse. My mental state has been declining, especially following the success of The Great Escape. And I know I’m not the only one. Damon keeps getting into a drunken rage and then acts like nothing happened the next day. Dave’s stopped asking if I’m alright. Too drunk to care. Alex pretends not to see the track marks. Or maybe he can’t. And Graham, well, I’m not even sure he sees me at all anymore. I think he’s so absorbed in his own misery and sorrow he cant escape the pit he’s in.
[[MORE]]Stress and pressure from tabloids and peers is affecting me and it always has. I’ve even started using hard drugs like heroin to escape my feelings but it only made them worse. Everything has felt like a dream recently. Or maybe the past month… the past year? I don’t know anymore. Days and nights have started to blur together to create one exhausting timeline of never ending work, writing, and performing. I don’t see myself lasting very long like this. I’ll sit on the sofa all day doing nothing with my life, become homeless, maybe even be arrested for not paying for shite. Give the media something interesting to talk about for once.
Everyday from my window I can see them. The cliffs. What if? The tides looked calmer than my own head. Like they knew what they were doing and how. It’s funny - the way everyone sings about Dover. Like its a place people go to get their life together and see the brighter side of things, when in reality its quite the opposite.
Maybe hope is just another lie we tell people so we don’t kill ourselves.
The sea below - it looks angelic. Too good to be true. Light blue, refreshing, promising rest. And I’m so, so, tired.
When I disappear how long will it take for them to notice? A day? A week? An hour? They’d probably just assume I legged it to a pub, got piss drunk and blacked out somewhere. Maybe that’s what they expect from me.
Dover doesn’t really feel intimidating anymore. Its like revisiting an old poem that puts everything you’ve ever felt into witty words and rhyming schemes. It feels familiar.
I keep imagining the headlines. BLURS GUITARIST FOUND WASHED UP NEAR DOVER, BLURS GUITARIST FOUND NEAR CLIFFS EDGE.
Suddenly being forgotten doesn’t feel too bad.
I wonder how they would react. Damon would never forgive himself. Each of them would blame themselves for something different. I hope they don’t. We were all too busy burning alive to notice who caught the flame first. There’s nothing they could do or say that would let me catch my breath at this point.
I think this is why people romanticise Dover. It’s easier to pretend the place is about hope, than admit it’s where the last bit of hope drowns.
I decided I’ll not sit on my arse and think about jumping but, I’ll actually kill myself.
The trip to the cliffs started the way most of my days had. A nagging sense of utter exhaustion and isolation, along with a burning in my chest. I take the next train out. Everybody stares at me but nobody says or does anything. It kind of makes me feel like I’m in a zoo. But only this time I’m not the one visiting.
When the cliffs come into view they look too neat. Too white. Too perfect. The wind assaults me as soon as I step onto the path. A warm British welcome. My eyes are stinging from the cold. Or maybe something else. I cant tell anymore. Every step closer to the edge feels like a weight being taken off my shoulders. Not peaceful - just muted. Entirely drowned out by my thoughts and the impending decision ahead of me.
I stop when my toes hit the line where the green grass gives up and chalk begins, bordering the angry blue current. From up here, everything seems so much smaller. The needle marks, tabloids, Damon’s rage, Grahams moping, awards, pressure, the noise; all of it shrinks into something more manageable. Like maybe this isn’t too much for a 25 year old to handle.
I step closer and closer to the lands edge. Its ironic, innit? How this ocean - this body of water, has more patience for me than anyone who has ever claimed they loved me. Dover doesn’t argue. Doesn’t tell me it’ll get better. Doesn’t lie to me with blank eyes and empty promises. It just listens. It just waits. Waits with open arms.
But as the tide continues thrashing below me, I remember. And I remember and remember. Alex pissing about because his cheese is wrong. Damon’s laugh when he’s around us compared to that bollocks he puts on for telly. The five of us messing around with different ridiculous instruments in the studio.
I thought maybe remembering those was giving me hope, but it only fueled my desire to perish. Perhaps part of the reason we kill ourselves is for the people we love. We don’t want to burden them with our agony and despair. Its not their job. So we spare them. But god, I wanted someone to carry this with me for a while.
The sea rushes up to meet me. Or maybe I’m meeting it — I can’t tell anymore. Time goes syrup-slow. Thoughts stretch. Fray. Repeat.
The wind picks up tremendously and then… nothing. For a second - just one, I swear I feel lighter. Like I’m a child again. But not relieved. Like someone cut the cord and I’m floating freely far, far away from this life.
There was no scene. No voice telling me I matter, no hand, no nothing. Just the sea flowing beneath me. Its done this a thousand times before me. It’ll do this a thousand times more. I then realize how small I truly am. I’m just a speck compared to the entire universe. I wonder if the other specks who met the same fate as me felt the same.
The flat hasn’t changed since the day I left. Cold tea on the table. A jacket slung over a chair. Letters with Damon’s name still unopened, waiting for a moment that doesn’t arrive. He’ll notice eventually. Not straight away. He’ll pace. Light a fag. Tell himself I’m sulking, or pissed, or asleep somewhere inconvenient. He’ll think of a thousand explanations before he lands on the one that hurts.
And Dover, faithful, silent Dover doesn’t say a word. Just swallows me whole. By the time anyone notices the silence where I should be, the tide’s already moved on. The day’s carried on. Trains run. Papers print. Life, that stubborn bastard, refuses to pause.
England, 1995.
The cliffs stay where they are.
And I became something quieter.
It has seen this before
(this was gonna be for my other acc but I’m posting it on here)
