Penfold

Turquoise walls at Tonel...
I suppose a brief introduction would be in order. If I’m to throw my life into the public domain then you deserve a brief history. Whether you choose to believe anything that is scribed below is up to you…
Born in the jungles of south east London I spent the formative years of my life in various trailers and on building sites across London and Kent. From Catford to Biggin Hill we roamed, settling finally in the Weald of Kent where my education was completed and my life skills honed. Finally my parents abandoned me in a basket at Gatwick airport and sent me out into the big wide world. New York, Lanzarote, Tooting. These exotic locations became the backgrounds to the drama of my life. Fire breathing, juggling, potato picking. These became the means to my end.

I spent several years following the path of the ‘New Age Traveller’ fighting hopelessly for my ‘right’ to party, spinning funky house music for the masses, forming the Aphrodisiac sound system that would spread groove to the masses. My ancient Bedford bus took me to the hills of Portugal, where it quietly died leaving a shell that became a shed that held the tools that built my house out of stones. Lots of stones.
I’ve been around the world and back. I’ve met Buddha, Carl Cox and Max (from Bristol). I became a father, a son, a carpenter, a builder. A surfer. And now it seems – a writer. The tale continues…

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