C. Buckthorn
@cbuckthorn.bsky.social
440 followers 270 following 3.3K posts
Sub-editor of Lær!, the Norwegian leather industry's most esteemed organ. Immerse your soul in love.
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cbuckthorn.bsky.social
I was yesterday years old when I learned modern penguins aren’t actually “penguins” at all, they’re only called penguins because they look like the now-extinct OG penguin, the Great Auk
Stuffed great auk
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
skippingjack.bsky.social
Jess just showed me a pic of an Auk and I told her they must be from the 40k universe otherwise it would be spelt with a C. Deathly silence. Followed by penguin trivia.
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
This is what immediately came to my mind too, swiftly followed by all the times I’ve been outrageously horny in public
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
hawaiiworms.bsky.social
[redacted due to adult content]
conradhackett.bsky.social
Has anything great happened in your life because of social media?
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Was already a massive Ferry stan, and here she continues to be the Best To Ever Do It (write about seaside history)
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
This is so good. What an absolute treat
Twentieth Century Seaside Architecture by Kathryn Ferry
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
The HR person who made me redundant two weeks before I gave birth, then blithely told me that the company was no longer responsible for my mat pay, and that I would have to apply for statutory mat pay through the government - all completely incorrect - is now doing AI thought leadership on LinkedIn
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
strongmisgiving.bsky.social
My bread time brings all the boys to the yard and they're like "let's have a bread" damn right let's have a bread
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Dreadful! But I want to support the murderer ❤️
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
I’d never heard of it before, a big gap in my seaside/architecture/leisure facility disasters knowledge
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Been reading about Summerland on the Isle of Man, which burned down two years after it opened, killing 50 people. Horrendous
Black and white photo of a 1970s building on fire
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Yeah sure, we’ve never seen it
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Teaching my 4yo the Time Warp dance 😎
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
strongmisgiving.bsky.social
Johnny's Spicy Rings "Crying out with flavour"
A box of crisps that says it's called

Johnny's spicy rings 

Under this it has the bizarre slogan: 

Crying out with flavour
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
seasideferry.bsky.social
The Garrick Theatre in #southport is a glorious essay in #artdeco styling that will hopefully be brought back to life soon. Designed by local architect George Tonge in 1932, it has more recently been a bingo hall and is now scheduled to become a classy hotel 🤞
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
The Swedish guy. Love his films
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
strongmisgiving.bsky.social
A poem of mine about a thing that happened (published by Anthropocene)
Church Drawer

O muse, sing in me of wasted hours
and sleepless nights and tax returns and
hangovers and self-loathing and
cowardice and bad diets and abhorrence.
Anxiety and fascism and body ache
and being fired and dwindling funds
and loss of appetite. And I reckon

I could have solved cold fusion. Or
the climate crisis. Or been less of
a twat. I could have filled the
silence with useful things or
taught the demons under my bed
a better way. Instead I tossed
them in a drawer with all my other shit
and let it decay. Become void. And now

inside the drawer there is a church,
a well lit church, with pews filled
with people who I will never see again.
They sit and listen, o muse, as a choir sings.
Can you hear the revulsion, the guilt,
the bum notes? It’s not their fault because
I can’t sing either, but they’re trying. And

their voices fill the room and the waves
that don’t reflect back worm their way into the stone
and in time the stone will crumble to dust,
reconvene in the earth, become stone again
become another church, where the songs will
be glorious and heartfelt and hopefully in tune. But until then:

listen! The harmonies of incoherent rage
are reaching their climax,
burning the air with self-doubt.
Hear, o muse, the unedited drafts of my
despair, the dissonance of my own disappointment;
hear them call out, hear them sing a song
of everything and nothing. And if

I close my eyes, if I plead with myself,
if I concentrate, I can walk amongst the cloisters.
As the song ends and they turn the page
to the next one, I hear disaster in the silence.
And for a split second before I am cast out
I understand where it all went wrong.
cbuckthorn.bsky.social
Ridiculously proud of you xxxx
Reposted by C. Buckthorn
sophiemhistory.bsky.social
I won the AOUG Vice Chancellor Lord Perry of Walton award for research in the social sciences
The author and her supervisor standing in front of an AOUG bench