(from the Crud Diaries)
The tumbleweed blew across the road as Wayne and myself parked the car and strode toward the Social Club in West Shore, Llandudno. Although a gorgeous summer evening, there was no one to be seen. We opened the door with anticipation, expecting a couple of people inside, like you get at the gigs in Rhyl. It was as if we had travelled back in time, or into the land that time forgot; the West Shore Social Club was teeming with life; like a stone unturned is crawling with insects, this place was crawling with punk rockers.