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David Gerrard
Works at PushON
Attended University of Sheffield
Lives in Manchester, United Kingdom
95 followers|15,282 views


David Gerrard

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I have been crowned trivia master playing Smarty Pins with 20 questions correct. Can you beat me?
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#WINNING - Geographically killed it playing Smarty Pins with 20. Just try to beat me.
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David Gerrard

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The history of mobile phones; the journey from brick to handheld computer.
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SEO, Blogger
I'm David, I work in SEO. One day I will expand this section...
Bragging rights
I have opposable thumbs
  • University of Sheffield
    English Literature MA, 2010 - 2011
  • University of Sheffield
    English Literature BA, 2007 - 2010
Basic Information
Head of Organic Strategy
  • PushON
    Head of Organic Strategy, 2014 - present
  • PushON
    Online Marketing Campaign Manager, 2013 - 2014
  • TheEword
    Senior SEO, 2012 - 2013
  • Anicca Solutions
    Account Manager, 2012 - 2012
  • Anicca Solutions
    Online Marketing Executive, 2012 - 2012
Map of the places this user has livedMap of the places this user has livedMap of the places this user has lived
Manchester, United Kingdom
Sheffield, United Kingdom - Leicester, United Kingdom
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David Gerrard's +1's are the things they like, agree with, or want to recommend.

1stwebdesigner is a design blog dedicated to bloggers, freelancers, web-developers and designers.

Anicca Solutions

Digital Marketing Company based in Leicester & London offering PPC, SEO and More

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Blog jam:

A blog for lovers of 'proper' music. None of that improper stuff

Introducing Beacons Festival 2012

Music festivals don't always have to be huge, sprawling affairs that require the navigational knowledge of a London cabbie and pockets as de

Atlas – Cities EP (SMBL007)

Due to drop on Kastle's Symbols imprint on August 28th, Cities is the debut EP from production duo Atlas. Comprising four tunes, including L

Dreams – Bloodsport

Part of his recent Flyte EP, which dropped on 6 Bit in March, 'Bloodsport' is an energetic yet darkly inflected track from LA producer Dream

Asa – Leave the Light On (Stumbleine Remix)

More beautiful than the cinematography in a Terrence Malick film -- I just watched one and needed to crowbar a reference in somewhere -- thi

10 Alternative Christmas Songs

December is upon us and soon we shall be force-fed Mariah Carey, Wham! and that Band Aid thing which, at first, will be perfectly tolerable

Dumbfoundead – Cool and Calm

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Fliptrix – Earth’s Axis

A label already considered seminal, and one arguably responsible for the revival of UK hip-hop, High Focus Records seem to have a secret for

Don’t Flop: The 10 Best Battlers

In light of the recent Don't Flop title match in which O'Shea prevailed as the league's first ever champion, I decided it was time to compil

Socket Science – Elegant Decay Mix

Me and Oldsy have been discussing the possibility of an exclusive Box Musique mix series since the beginning of time. Seriously, we sat ther

Win Randomer Tickets

Right kids, I'm going to keep this brief. Fancy the chance to win tickets to see Randomer, Throwing Snow, Becoming Real, Deft and JJMumbles

Atlas Live Session

Ahead of their debut release on Kastle's Symbols imprint, Atlas recently performed a live session for Bokah at Loughborough's Aspect Studios

Win Triangle Tickets

People may walk past our window and scream Scrooooge! while shaking their fists, but we can be generous souls here at Box Musique and to pro

Fantastic Mr Fox – San’en EP

You don't know how long I've been waiting for this. Seriously, almost as long as the entire world has been waiting for Detox (well..maybe no

Box Musique | Music News and Criticism

Kahn – Illy & Tehran (DRUNK025). I was awestruck by the brilliance of Kahn's debut release and played out 'Like We Used To'

Box Musique

We fell out of space and landed in the sea. Now we write about music.

You've been looking at new apartments all day. You're not optimistic you'll find anywhere to live. A handful of coins and a grimace isn't enough to pay for somewhere within walking distance of where you usually loiter. The word flatshare is imprinted upon your brain and you're bored of pretending to be friendly to impress "easygoing, social" people who "like a drink at the weekends". You feel like a cruise ship dancer, prancing for little reward. It would have been a whole lot easier if you didn't get kicked out in the first place. You imagine being back at your old place in the warmth with the dog as you saunter among the Northern Quarter’s young professionals wearing their thursday-is-the-new-friday faces. They’re all heading to brand new bars laden with cheap tricks. You wonder how long it will be until someone opens one themed like a hot air balloon. Tables would be baskets. It wasn't even your dog. You hated that dog. September's warmth has long gone and October's biting cold is tightening its grip. You huddle your shoulders and decide you need to refuel. You want something warm. An establishment named Slice looms to your left. Pizza. This should fill the gap. Momentarily at least. She left you months ago now, it wasn't even a long relationship. Get a grip of yourself, you think. You cross the threshold into the luminous interior and begin to peruse the array of toppings on offer. They look like colourful landscapes from a great height, encased in glass like futuristic prisoners. Aubergine, spinach and goats cheese catches your eye, as does the mozzarella, cotto ham and mushroom offering. Some rather satisfying paninis also tease you from a shelf near the window, perhaps one of those would be a better choice? No, you came here for pizza. Dough with tomatoes, melted cheese and an array of meat-based morsels strewn on top. That's what you'll get. After leaving an awkward amount of time between being asked if you need any help and finally making a decision, you choose prosciutto, buffalo mozzarella and sundried tomatoes. The woman serving you severs a slice from the mother pizza. It is smaller than expected. It reminds you of snacks your creaky old childminder would give you before dinner. It's heated up in the oven while you fish out the asking price of £2.95 from a sea of pocket change. Armed with your piping hot snack, you sit down and eat it in a few bites. You wish you'd chosen something larger. You leave with your stomach almost as empty as your wallet. It was delicious pizza though, there’s no denying that. Next time you should buy a whole one. The by-the-slice experience is not for you. Maybe they do it to leave you wanting more? You can’t afford any more tonight. You probably can’t afford the bus either. You head back out into the cold. Hopefully you won't be sleeping out here tonight.
• • •
Public - a year ago
reviewed a year ago
Tonight you’re looking for something different. Another night at the local would send you under, listening to Fred tell you about his ex-wife's flash new lover for the third time this week. He drives a Mercedes, he has a gold watch, he wears cufflinks. You've never understood why people wear cufflinks. No, it won’t be the local again. Tonight you want a curry, a proper curry. You're tired of tepid greige dhansak served in rooms that remind you of '70s working men’s clubs. The setting doesn't make the food but when the food's bad, everything else feels worse. Someone, you don't remember whom, recommended Mughli. The jewel of the curry mile, they said. You arrive early for your booking. Your date hasn’t turned up yet but you ask to be seated anyway. You order wine and wait. You’re not anxious. You're well versed in the shame of being stood up. The setting is relaxed and the atmosphere is pleasant. You should come to places like this more often. Your date arrives. You pour her a drink and order food. To start with, you select the charcoal grilled lamb. You ordered it because you don’t have a charcoal pit at home. You don’t even have a barbecue or a garden for that matter. Dingy apartment living is everything the dystopian novels of your youth promised it would be. For the main attraction you opt for the Ruby Murray. The name hints at an old neighbour you admired. You wonder where she is now. Probably long gone. Your date settles on Bombay Chicken, we can share she suggests. You reluctantly agree. You've barely sunk your second glass of pinot before the starter arrives. The meat is tender and falls apart in your mouth. It’s delicious. You make small talk with your date. She’s a nurse and wants to travel the world. She spent three weeks in Thailand when she was 19. Her father makes his money restoring classic cars. You tell her you wish you were in a more noble profession. The main course arrives. The Ruby Murray is rich and your second dose of lamb is as good as the first. The Bombay Chicken is also tasty. It’s sweet and you’re glad you agreed to share. Both transcend your expectations and impart respectable levels of heat. Your date is equally enamoured. You tell her a story about how you cracked your head open as a child. She laughs. It’s going well. You decide not to go for dessert. You’re too full. You decide to go for drinks instead. You ask for the bill. It’s not as much as expected. You leave feeling fulfilled. You half turn back towards the door on your way and let out a satisfied sigh. That was the best Indian food you've had in Manchester since Ashar’s homemade dal. That's the kind of meal Fred's ex-wife is eating now she's courting Mr. Mercedes and his expensive timepiece. No more microwaved Chicken Kievs for her Fred. Not anymore.
• • •
Public - 2 years ago
reviewed 2 years ago
The sun is going down. The noise of the city is momentarily interrupted by a low rumbling from inside you. You're hungry. You're craving circular food of the Italian variety: pizza. Stone-baked, authentic pizza. You've not eaten it for a while. Dough isn't far from here, you remember. The name implies artisanal fare. That's what you need. You walk against the evening shoppers heading back to their cars and warm homes and make your way to the Northern Quarter. Dough is up ahead. You enter the glass doors and ask for a table for one. No-one will be joining you today, or any other day. You are seated by a helpful waitress, handed a menu and order a beer. The menu is interesting, creative topping combinations abound. Teriyaki salmon, jerk chicken and smoked trout all catch your eye but you order the paella pizza. It reminds you of the matadors of Plaza de Toros de Valencia. The wait is short and you're pleasantly surprised when the waitress places the pizza in front of you. Your first bite is not as expected. The pizza is underwhelming. It tastes good but the dough is tough and not the perfection you desired. You reflect on the name of the joint and conclude that Alright Pizza would be a more appropriate title. You eat. You pay. You leave. Walking home you think of what might have been. Maybe next time Dough, you ponder, maybe next time.
• • •
Public - 2 years ago
reviewed 2 years ago
5 reviews
Your Friday night has led you here. More whiskeys than you can count have passed your lips and you feel the need for a different type of intoxication. Just a fleeting digression from the hard liquor. A pint is what you need. The Castle Hotel seems like as good a choice as any. From the outside it looks like your kind of establishment. Dark with a warm glow. The bouncer looks you up and down. You look back with fake sincerity. He permits you to edge in through the narrow door. It's crowded inside but in a good way. Everyone seems to be friends. You shake the momentary thought of talking to someone new and carefully navigate the bodies crowding the bar. Ale. This should settle your stomach. The barman places your potation in front of you. A brief moment passes as you watch the head settle. Someone behind you pushes their arm under yours to claim their space at the bar. Your companion, you forget her name, motions towards the back of the building. She wants a smoke. You want a smoke. You follow her down a narrow corridor, past stairs winding up to the distant sound of a jukebox. A band plays a lo-fi version of Otis Redding's "Don't Mess With Cupid" in a side room. It reminds you of your father. The church of smokers is all the way at the back. It's small. No, tiny. Barely a patio but it'll do. You pick a vacant spot but are slowly forced against the wall by the tipsy congregation. You don't say a word. People always have their back to you anyway. You don't mind. You have enough space to drink your pint and suck down the sweet taste of toasted tobacco. That's all you want. Your companion makes conversation with a nearby couple. You join in.
• • •
Public - 2 years ago
reviewed 2 years ago
You're parched, you need a beer. You're in the city centre and you've tried most of the watering holes in proximity but fancy something new. A faint recommendation of Knott Bar echoes in your head. Where is it? Near the Hilton. Sound. You walk there. You get there and push the wrong door at the entrance. There's a sign you didn't notice, it says 'push this door'. Helpful. You push the right door, you're in. The atmosphere is warm. You walk over to the bar. The selection of beers is almost overwhelming but you finally settle on a locally brewed pale ale. It's not too expensive. You sit down, have a sip and a look around. Everyone seems friendly. The beer is tasty: hoppy and aromatic. Good choice. Nice pub this, you think. You'll visit again.
• • •
Public - 2 years ago
reviewed 2 years ago