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Image courtesy of Rob Evans Photography
I V E N E V E R H A D A F R I E D E G G , C H I L L I C H U T N E Y S A N D W I C H B U T I M T H I N K I N G A B O U T H A V I N G O N E .
Image courtesy of Rob Evans Photography
I V E N E V E R H A D A F R I E D E G G , C H I L L I C H U T N E Y S A N D W I C H B U T I M T H I N K I N G A B O U T H A V I N G O N E .
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AZINE
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AZINE
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I M A M A S S I V E F A N O F T H E S T O N E R O S E S A N D I N E V E R T H O U G H T I D G E T T O S E E T H E M L I V E , N E V E R M I N D S U P P O R T I N G T H E M
I M A M A S S I V E F A N O F T H E S T O N E R O S E S A N D I N E V E R T H O U G H T I D G E T T O S E E T H E M L I V E , N E V E R M I N D S U P P O R T I N G T H E M
F U D
LEFTOVERS?
Loughborough University ArtsA vibrant art scene in Loughborough
More information:[email protected] 01509 222881
Radar Innovative, contemporary arts programme. Spoken word and Literature Open mic nights and special events. Concerts A season of classical music. Whats OnIan McMillan Thu 25 October
New Zealand String Quartet Wed 21 November
Speech Bubble Mon 3 December
Choir Christmas Concert Wed 5 December
Radar, Home/Land November/December Jul
ian
Hug
hes
MC/6271
F U D
LEFTOVERS?
F U D
LEFTOVERS?
I T S L E A R N I N G , I T I S J U S T A B O U T L E A R N I N G . I T I S A L S O A B O U T A C U R I O S I T Y O F R U T H L E S S N E S S .
McNab was a ploughman broad and strong,with a heart that beat for his brideand hed work from dawn like an endless songtil the dark of the eventide.
And though it was true she could do no wrong,she was never satisfiedwith the heart of her ploughman broad and strongand would niggle his head and chide.
Oh, what can I give you dear sweet wife?Oh, what will make you smile?What can I give that is more than my lifewhich is yours for now and awhile?
You can give me something that shines in the sun,something not from the claggy clay,something that is rare and hard won,that will make me skittish and gay.
So he harnessed his horses, walked out in the dawnby the light of the rising sun.He passed by an orchard and found he was drawnto the fruit as it glistened and hung.
He plodded his furrow throughout the hard daytil his labour and thinking were done, then tethered his horse by the dusty way,looked up at the gleaming moon.
The apples were black in the shade of nightas he clambered over the wall.His reaching hands were washed clean in the lightas he helped the fruit to fall.
He heaved his treasure for his lovely wifeto the waiting horse in a sack.The gamekeeper shot out his lifewith lead pellets in his back.
It was murder, yet the murderer knewhis lordly master well.The apples were his and the thief askew -no one would talk or tell.
McNab was a ploughman broad and strong,with a heart that beat for his brideand hed work from dawn like an endless songtil the dark of the eventide.
And though it was true she could do no wrong,she was never satisfiedwith the heart of her ploughman broad and strongand would niggle his head and chide.
Oh, what can I give you dear sweet wife?Oh, what will make you smile?What can I give that is more than my lifewhich is yours for now and awhile?
You can give me something that shines in the sun,something not from the claggy clay,something that is rare and hard won,that will make me skittish and gay.
So he harnessed his horses, walked out in the dawnby the light of the rising sun.He passed by an orchard and found he was drawnto the fruit as it glistened and hung.
He plodded his furrow throughout the hard daytil his labour and thinking were done, then tethered his horse by the dusty way,looked up at the gleaming moon.
The apples were black in the shade of nightas he clambered over the wall.His reaching hands were washed clean in the lightas he helped the fruit to fall.
He heaved his treasure for his lovely wifeto the waiting horse in a sack.The gamekeeper shot out his lifewith lead pellets in his back.
It was murder, yet the murderer knewhis lordly master well.The apples were his and the thief askew -no one would talk or tell.
He kicked the ploughman in the back,unloosed the restive horse,took up the bloody apple sackand set off on his course.
The widows house was five miles hence,its light shone out so sweet.Hed loved her once, without good sense,so leaden were his feet.
He set the apples on the cilland called to her inside,The ploughmans dead. I bear no illbut apples for your pride.
She knew the apples were not sweetbut bitter now as a gall.She trod them down beneath her feet,then threw them over the wall.
As winter came and winter wept,she withered in the frost.From out her house she never steppedand soon her life was lost.
That spring the gamekeeper passed byto burn his heart with rage.Hed written in the book of hateand couldnt turn the page.
The house was empty as a skull,the garden bare of flowers.He laid his head upon the wallas minutes passed to hours.
Then, looking down, he saw the greenof spring, an apple seedlingThe first of beauty he had seen;it gave him back lifes feeling.
Nurture lost love and it will growto bear strange fruit, its said;this apple tree would soon bestowthe deepest darkest red,
deep ribs like the ploughmans manly frame,a sweetness like his kiss.Bloody Ploughman is its name;its root is bitterness.
He kicked the ploughman in the back,unloosed the restive horse,took up the bloody apple sackand set off on his course.
The widows house was five miles hence,its light shone out so sweet.Hed loved her once, without good sense,so leaden were his feet.
He set the apples on the cilland called to her inside,The ploughmans dead. I bear no illbut apples for your pride.
She knew the apples were not sweetbut bitter now as a gall.She trod them down beneath her feet,then threw them over the wall.
As winter came and winter wept,she withered in the frost.From out her house she never steppedand soon her life was lost.
That spring the gamekeeper passed byto burn his heart with rage.Hed written in the book of hateand couldnt turn the page.
The house was empty as a skull,the garden bare of flowers.He laid his head upon the wallas minutes passed to hours.
Then, looking down, he saw the greenof spring, an apple seedlingThe first of beauty he had seen;it gave him back lifes feeling.
Nurture lost love and it will growto bear strange fruit, its said;this apple tree would soon bestowthe deepest darkest red,
deep ribs like the ploughmans manly frame,a sweetness like his kiss.Bloody Ploughman is its name;its root is bitterness.
McNab was a ploughman broad and strong,with a heart that beat for his brideand hed work from dawn like an endless songtil the dark of the eventide.
And though it was true she could do no wrong,she was never satisfiedwith the heart of her ploughman broad and strongand would niggle his head and chide.
Oh, what can I give you dear sweet wife?Oh, what will make you smile?What can I give that is more than my lifewhich is yours for now and awhile?
You can give me something that shines in the sun,something not from the claggy clay,something that is rare and hard won,that will make me skittish and gay.
So he harnessed his horses, walked out in the dawnby the light of the rising sun.He passed by an orchard and found he was drawnto the fruit as it glistened and hung.
He plodded his furrow throughout the hard daytil his labour and thinking were done, then tethered his horse by the dusty way,looked up at the gleaming moon.
The apples were black in the shade of nightas he clambered over the wall.His reaching hands were washed clean in the lightas he helped the fruit to fall.
He heaved his treasure for his lovely wifeto the waiting horse in a sack.The gamekeeper shot out his lifewith lead pellets in his back.
It was murder, yet the murderer knewhis lordly master well.The apples were his and the thief askew -no one would talk or tell.
McNab was a ploughman broad and strong,with a heart that beat for his brideand hed work from dawn like an endless songtil the dark of the eventide.
And though it was true she could do no wrong,she was never satisfiedwith the heart of her ploughman broad and strongand would niggle his head and chide.
Oh, what can I give you dear sweet wife?Oh, what will make you smile?What can I give that is more than my lifewhich is yours for now and awhile?
You can give me something that shines in the sun,something not from the claggy clay,something that is rare and hard won,that will make me skittish and gay.
So he harnessed his horses, walked out in the dawnby the light of the rising sun.He passed by an orchard and found he was drawnto the fruit as it glistened and hung.
He plodded his furrow throughout the hard daytil his labour and thinking were done, then tethered his horse by the dusty way,looked up at the gleaming moon.
The apples were black in the shade of nightas he clambered over the wall.His reaching hands were washed clean in the lightas he helped the fruit to fall.
He heaved his treasure for his lovely wifeto the waiting horse in a sack.The gamekeeper shot out his lifewith lead pellets in his back.
It was murder, yet the murderer knewhis lordly master well.The apples were his and the thief askew -no one would talk or tell.
He kicked the ploughman in the back,unloosed the restive horse,took up the bloody apple sackand set off on his course.
The widows house was five miles hence,its light shone out so sweet.Hed loved her once, without good sense,so leaden were his feet.
He set the apples on the cilland called to her inside,The ploughmans dead. I bear no illbut apples for your pride.
She knew the apples were not sweetbut bitter now as a gall.She trod them down beneath her feet,then threw them over the wall.
As winter came and winter wept,she withered in the frost.From out her house she never steppedand soon her life was lost.
That spring the gamekeeper passed byto burn his heart with rage.Hed written in the book of hateand couldnt turn the page.
The house was empty as a skull,the garden bare of flowers.He laid his head upon the wallas minutes passed to hours.
Then, looking down, he saw the greenof spring, an apple seedlingThe first of beauty he had seen;it gave him back lifes feeling.
Nurture lost love and it will growto bear strange fruit, its said;this apple tree would soon bestowthe deepest darkest red,
deep ribs like the ploughmans manly frame,a sweetness like his kiss.Bloody Ploughman is its name;its root is bitterness.
He kicked the ploughman in the back,unloosed the restive horse,took up the bloody apple sackand set off on his course.
The widows house was five miles hence,its light shone out so sweet.Hed loved her once, without good sense,so leaden were his feet.
He set the apples on the cilland called to her inside,The ploughmans dead. I bear no illbut apples for your pride.
She knew the apples were not sweetbut bitter now as a gall.She trod them down beneath her feet,then threw them over the wall.
As winter came and winter wept,she withered in the frost.From out her house she never steppedand soon her life was lost.
That spring the gamekeeper passed byto burn his heart with rage.Hed written in the book of hateand couldnt turn the page.
The house was empty as a skull,the garden bare of flowers.He laid his head upon the wallas minutes passed to hours.
Then, looking down, he saw the greenof spring, an apple seedlingThe first of beauty he had seen;it gave him back lifes feeling.
Nurture lost love and it will growto bear strange fruit, its said;this apple tree would soon bestowthe deepest darkest red,
deep ribs like the ploughmans manly frame,a sweetness like his kiss.Bloody Ploughman is its name;its root is bitterness.
E X P E R I E N T I A L L E A R N I N G A N D P R O F E S S I O N A L P R A C T I C E T O M A X I M I S E S T U D E N T E M P L O Y A B I L I T Y
E X P E R I E N T I A L L E A R N I N G A N D P R O F E S S I O N A L P R A C T I C E T O M A X I M I S E S T U D E N T E M P L O Y A B I L I T Y
W O R K I N G W I T H T H E T E A M A T S E E D C R E A T I V I T Y H A S B E E N , A N D S T I L L I S , S U P E R B . T H E O P P O R T U N I T I E S T H E Y H A V E G I V E N M E C A N B E D I R E C T LY A P P L I E D T O I N D U S T R Y , P L U S M Y I N V O L V E M E N T H A S L E D T O B R I L L I A N T A D D I T I O N S T O M Y C A R E E R D E V E L O P M E N T A N D E V E R - G R O W I N G P O R T F O L I O
T H E C O U R S E W O R K S O N E N H A N C I N G L E A R N E R S T E C H N I C A L S K I L L S A N D G I V E S S T U D E N T S A T A S T E R O F C R E A T I V E F I E L D S T H E Y M A Y W I S H T O P U R S U E I N T H E F U T U R E
W O R K I N G W I T H T H E T E A M A T S E E D C R E A T I V I T Y H A S B E E N , A N D S T I L L I S , S U P E R B . T H E O P P O R T U N I T I E S T H E Y H A V E G I V E N M E C A N B E D I R E C T LY A P P L I E D T O I N D U S T R Y , P L U S M Y I N V O L V E M E N T H A S L E D T O B R I L L I A N T A D D I T I O N S T O M Y C A R E E R D E V E L O P M E N T A N D E V E R - G R O W I N G P O R T F O L I O
T H E C O U R S E W O R K S O N E N H A N C I N G L E A R N E R S T E C H N I C A L S K I L L S A N D G I V E S S T U D E N T S A T A S T E R O F C R E A T I V E F I E L D S T H E Y M A Y W I S H T O P U R S U E I N T H E F U T U R E
Loverecycling
Leic
s.
Loverecycling
Leic
s.
Application
The striking monotone contr
ast of the
logo lends itself perfectly to b
eing painted
directly onto some of the wa
lls in the
building. This gives it a vintage
and hand
crafted feel.
Features such as quotes from
the workers
of the old Hosiery Factory ca
n be
scattered around the corrido
rs to hold on
to some of the rich history o
f the building.
Graphics such as arrows and
hands can be
used as they would have bee
n back then.
SOCKS
"" FOOTBALL
Manchester United,
Leicester cityLiverpool
We made like
and
clubsfor all the
Studios 3-6
Application
The striking monotone contrast of the
logo lends itself perfectly to being painted
directly onto some of the walls in the
building. This gives it a vintage and hand
crafted feel.
Features such as quotes from the workers
of the old Hosiery Factory can be
scattered around the corridors to hold on
to some of the rich history of the building.
Graphics such as arrows and hands can be
used as they would have been back then.
SOCKS
"
" FOOTBALL Manchester United,
Leicester cityLiverpool
We madelike
and
clubsfor all the
Studios 3-6
Application
The striking monotone contrast of the
logo lends itself perfectly to being painted
directly onto some of the walls in the
building. This gives it a vintage and hand
crafted feel.
Features such as quotes from the workers
of the old Hosiery Factory can be
scattered around the corridors to hold on
to some of the rich history of the building.
Graphics such as arrows and hands can be
used as they would have been back then.
SOCKS
"
" FOOTBALL Manchester United,
Leicester cityLiverpool
We madelike
and
clubsfor all the
Studios 3-6
Application
The striking monotone contrast of the
logo lends itself perfectly to being painted
directly onto some of the walls in the
building. This gives it a vintage and hand
crafted feel.
Features such as quotes from the workers
of the old Hosiery Factory can be
scattered around the corridors to hold on
to some of the rich history of the building.
Graphics such as arrows and hands can be
used as they would have been back then.
SOCKS
"
" FOOTBALL Manchester United,
Leicester cityLiverpool
We madelike
and
clubsfor all the
Studios 3-6
www.greasethemusical.co.uk
leicester's leading entertainment venue
demontforthall.co.uk 0116 233 3111
grEg dAviEs thu 8 nov 20
KEvin BridgEs Wed 14 nov21
tue 11 sun 30 dec16 - 35 *
sat 8 dec21.50 - 26.50*
Jools hollAnd thu 29 nov
34.50
thE ovErtonEs fri 30 nov
19.50 - 33.50
Milton JonEsfri 8 feb 20
An EvEning of BurlEsquE
Wed 21 nov 18 - 21.50*
*Concessions/group discounts available
152.Sharpideas FD2D 148(w)x210mm_FD2D 30/08/2012 12:39 Page 1
