- published: 03 Oct 2013
- views: 4050
Coordinates: 51°32′48″N 0°13′46″W / 51.5468°N 0.2295°W / 51.5468; -0.2295
Willesden is an area in North West London which forms part of the London Borough of Brent. It is situated 5 miles (8 km) north west of Charing Cross. The area has strong links to Ireland and has a sizable Irish population, as well as a large Afro-Caribbean community.
The name derives from the Anglo-Saxon Willesdune, meaning The Hill of the Spring, and a settlement bearing this name dates back to 939 AD. The Domesday Book of 1086 records it as Wellesdone. However, on 19th century maps of the town such as those from the 'Ordnance Survey First Series', the town is shown as Wilsdon. . The town's motto is Laborare est orare ("to labour is to pray").[citation needed]
From the 14th to 16th centuries, the town was a place of pilgrimage due to the presence of two ancient statues of the Virgin Mary at the Church of St Mary. One of these statues is thought to be a Black Madonna, which was insulted by the Lollards, taken to Thomas Cromwell's house and burnt in 1538 on a large bonfire of "notable images" including those of Walsingham, Worcester and Ipswich. There was also a "holy well" which was thought to possess miraculous qualities, particularly for blindness and other eye disorders.
Actors: Pete Walker (actor), Patrick Barr (actor), Pete Walker (director), Pete Walker (producer), Patrick Barr (actor), Jess Conrad (actor), Robin Askwith (actor), Alfred Shaughnessy (writer), Ray Brooks (actor), Tristan Rogers (actor), Raymond Young (actor), Jenny Hanley (actress), Cyril Ornadel (composer), Stewart Bevan (actor), Alan Curtis (actor),
Genres: Horror,There’s a sound deep inside
And it feels just like thunder
Like the rushing of white water
And it’s bursting in your head
There’s a fist around your heart
And it’s grip is getting tighter
And the sweat upon your face is running
Burning in your eyes
There’s no one there to help you now
This time you’re really on your own
There’s no one there to show you how
You have to find ... find your own way home
Caught in the spirit of the age
I rode along the wave
Accomplice to the avarice
The master and the slave
I played my role so easily
Wore my costumes well
And slapped and stabbed the backs of players
Playing the kiss-and-sell
And in this this life of give and take
You know it’s better to receive
And at the offer of an outstretched hand
I’d ask what can you do, what can you do for me
Ambition take me by the hand
And guide me through the shifting sands
Lead me to that promised land
Where everyman’s a king
Oh, feet of clay!
Don’t fail me now
There has to be a way some how
Two steps forward, three steps back
Break my heart, an art attack!
Show me everything I lack, things I lack ...
Seems to me, this seemed to be
The only way that finally
Tight-closed eyes would every see
Cracks begin to show
Swim up-stream, against the tide
Choke on faith and swallow pride
To find a new self, deep inside
That I don’t know
I don’t know!
Parsons and priests will look after your soul
But only you can exercise your self-control
And there are people who make history
While most read history books
Whilst some attract admiring glances
Most are scared to look
And if, just by some miracle, we see the light
I hope to God it’s bright enough
To highlight wrong from right
And will the signs for ‘up’ and ‘down’
Be clear enough to show?
And will we know the difference?
I don’t know!
I don’t know!
And now those days have gone,
Consigned to someone else’s memory
Embrace the changes still to come
Exploring every possibility
No shame the glory days have gone!
Farewell to broken dreams and chances missed
Farewell to shallow smiles and hollow hearts
And long forgotten promises
And now it dawned, I watched the sunrise
From the window of another day
I felt the shackles that had bound me,
Heavy, lighten, break and fade away
And if the future is an open road
I think I’ve learned to read the signs
And if the future is an open book
I’ve learned to read between the lines