They're tearing down the skull building at the end of the road

on Friday I was on my roof when I saw the skull being bitten off


people go on about it being a big useless eyesore and they're glad it's finally going but I found the building charming - in a creepy sort of way.

When they have totally flattened the 'useless eyesore' a block of  'executive apartments' will rise in it's place they will not be suitable for families or people with badly paid jobs.

Another building down the road used to be an office block, it was empty for years, drunks gathered on the steps to fight. One day the building was unlocked and opened. Without any apparent refurbishment the ground floor became an enormous bar selling pricey beer and cheap food, parties started at noon for no good reason, an art gallery popped up, bands played every night, the upper floors were let out to artists and people who wanted to use the big rooms for meetings, it was crowded with all manner of characters. The drunks that used to gather on the steps came in and earned a drink by collecting glasses, it was chaotic and messy and a lot of fun. Over the last few weeks the artists have been evicted and most of the building will be developed into smart apartments.

I moved to this neighbourhood because of it's weirdness. That skull building was like Lurch from the Addams family, ungainly, huge and instantly recognisable - the arty party office block was our Uncle Fester. The new apartments when they are in place will be as dreary as Brian and Jennifer from The Archers*


*the Archers is the UK's longest running radio drama - a tale of eternally weary, hard-working, beige-wearing country folk

The London bus was late

the queue in the bus station was chatting among itself. A jolly-looking Irish man was talking about his bad experience with the rival bus company, I asked him if he was aware that a third bus company had started up, the stop for that one was just outside the bus station


Jolly-looking man regarded me as though I'd suggested he pick through litter bins for his lunch

Outside the bus station??? - that sounds very dodgy  

I didn't have time to rebut this because he got busy telling me that if I was even thinking about taking the train I'd better not fall asleep or someone would be stealing my bag and nipping off at Swindon.

And now the whole bus queue started catastrophising about how the entire  fabric of society is in tatters but he shouted above them

and you know what ... I say DO YOU KNOW WHAT???? and this is true because I know it is. The whole police force is taken up with looking at Facebook and Twitter these days, looking for anyone that says something that might upset someone, you can be getting murdered or burgled in your beds, call the police for being murdered and no-one will come but you say something on Facebook and they'll be round mob-handed to clap you in irons   

we fell silent.

The London bus pulled into the bay, I said - Look Hurray! it's a double-decker! 


Jolly-looking man gave me another of his looks, he said I always stay downstairs, I don't want to get my head chopped off by a bridge

Stripping the beds today

and full of the joy of being in possession of a new washing machine, I did the job really thoroughly and took the under-underslips off the pillows. Shaking out the last one produced a fat queen wasp, she bounced off the bed and crawled sleepily across the floor

I parked the car

and started hauling grocery shopping out of it. Distress noises from another vehicle engine caused me to turn and watch two young men getting their car stuck in the cul de sac outside my house, it's tough to turn a car around there, being on a steep slope, even if you manage the manoeuvre it ruins the clutch, residents just reverse themselves out and back all the way down the road. These boys were university freshers, Boy 1 had a smart new car and just passed his test, he got out of the drivers seat so that Boy 2 who passed last week could show him how to do it, he made some weedy revs, took the handbrake off - the car lurched forward and stuck itself into a lampost with a smashing big sound

Stunned Silence    

the boys got out of the car 


One of our neighbours is a huge man who really loves Jesus, he normally wears a dayglo gilet and carries a placard but today he was without these accessories, so the boys though he was a proper grown up, the Jesus Man was pointing at the car, telling them how it was eternally bonded to that post now and he was starting to get a bit loud about The End of Times, the boys looked close to tears.  They couldn't see me because I am a woman, I said would you like me to get it out?   Boy 1 finally spotted me and said Yes Please Sweetheart in the way that men used to speak to secretaries in the '70s so I got in the driving seat, revved it off the lampost and Evel Knievelled backwards to the end of the road -  that's how a Sweetheart drives

The washing machine repair

started promisingly, Benny was positive 

It's a broken bog-wangler and the thrush is worn out, I'll order the parts and be back Friday, we'll have it going again in no time...  


Benny disappeared, returned at the end of the week ... with bog-wanglers and thrushes but could not fix the machine ... I tried to put a stop to the mending ... very grateful for efforts but washer has done sterling service etc. .... probably time to get a new one .... Benny refused to be defeated. Rudi was sort-of-here too, trying to hang a door while under the influence. It was like I was trapped in one of my unhappy dreams.


I was also distracted by their physical allure - How could these two men be in the house at the same time, their admirably large bellies and too-small t-shirts, both men showing off ample arse-crackage  - and both men unbelievably smelly.

Benny has  been back twice more, each time a little smellier and each time he unpicks the washer a little more, calls a mate and tells me he'll be right back.

Benny was back for the last time this morning, smellier than a wet dog after rolling in cow pats. I allowed him to try the one more thing he had really really wanted to try and then I said that we should let the machine rest in peace, he was almost in tears and wouldn't accept payment - he had failed. This required soothing noises and reassurance from me while trying to edge him towards the door - sort of humming and at the same time trying to pat him on the shoulder without actually patting him on the shoulder.

I have now successfully ordered a new washer.

the washing machine gave out on Monday

our entire home is in a massive sulk; the dishwasher  stutters, a spring in the mattress pokes my ribs, our many-bulbed light fittings are reduced to a single live bulb each - I consider running away.

I call an appliance repair man then head to the reclamation yard. I buy a glazed door to replace a weedy wooden door - maybe letting light into the dark hallway will cheer me and the appliances - I think we are experiencing SAD.  I call Rudi, arrange for him to pick up the door from the yard and hang it No Problem, said Rudi, I meet you Friday 9am at the yard  said Rudi.

A long internet journey searching mattresses results in my order for a mattress filled with sheep wool, it is double my budget, I must protect this investment. I spend more money on a sheep-wool-mattress-protector.

At the bulb shop I spend nearly ONE HUNDRED POUNDS on light bulbs.

The mattress arrives - it is pristine, white and covered with little sheepy faces and woolly buttons, I protect it with the mattress protector - this too is whitely pristine and slightly shiny - too nice for our bodies, I turn the house upside down looking for a suitable mattress protector protector.

Friday morning 9am, I have walked a mile to meet Rudi at the yard, I wait, I leave messages.

I give up and start walking back home, a man dressed in a brand new camouflage oufit is marching behind me I can hear him shouting things to passing cars, then he is alongside me, he smells richly of pee and alcohol, he tells me lots of strange things. Before marching on, he shakes my hand firmly with his yellow and sticky hand.

Rudi calls at 10 I just turned my phone on,  it was dead, I been stuck in traffic, I will come now 

an hour later, Rudi is at my door with my new door, he smells richly of alcohol, he asks for a strong coffee, uses the bathroom and heads straight back out I just going to get my tools,  that is the last I see of him til 4pm

This weekend I visited my parents

and came away laden with apples from the tree at the end of their back garden.  

Whenever I visit 'home' I enjoy looking at the end of the back garden, a movie behind my eyes plays through all the transformations it has undergone.

We moved to that house when I was three, one of the end corners of the garden was a site of constant change as Dad built a series of swings and seesaws, climbing frames and rabbit hutches for us. The top picture commemorates the single occasion, during our childhood, that my brother and I sat peaceabley next to each other - we have clearly been bribed to do this with ice lollies but nevertheless ...

I can also see the excavations of our neighbours the Garthwaites, who were about to install a swimming pool.

By the following year I have grown plaits, the hutch has been replaced by a seesaw and lollies are not enough to induce my brother and I to share space nicely. The neighbours have finished their pool - I remember watching them enjoying it. That little wire-and-stick plot divider was soon to be replaced by a properly tall, un-peek-overable wooden fence, presumably because they finally got tired of my gazing over yearningly at their cool, watery fun.

There were also two apple trees at the end of the garden, one is long gone allowing the other to become fat and gnarly, it still produces an abundance of bulbous green cooking apples.

This evening I peeled and thickly sliced some of those apples, tossed them briefly in a bubbling pan of butter, muscovado sugar,  a little salt then transferred the mix to an ovenproof dish. I combined thick jersey cream with two egg yolks and vanilla essence, poured that over the buttery apples, sprinkled on cinnamon then popped in a low oven for half an hour.

a recent visit to the hairdresser

has gone unnoticed at home 

today, walking in town with a friend, we passed a drunk slumped on the pavement, he looked up at us, grinned, waved then he pointed at me and stage-whispered  

nice haircut

Icarus

I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell, 
but just coming to the end of his triumph
Jack Gilbert 2005

In between the 'mermaiding' and the Top Secret Job (which has now ended) I have been  making a cover for a coffin, it will be one of twenty-five customised coffins exhibited at the Liverpool Oratory from 1st - 18th November. 

The coffins are a new design from the koffin company; lightweight, biodegradable and inexpensive, the brainchild of Gina Czarnecki,  for more information about the project follow this link, 

The coffin decorations will be all be personal statements, some will be painted, others re-imagined as boats, cars and rockets or festooned with flowers.  My decoration is inspired by the Asafo flags of the Fante people of Africa. Asafo designs consist of narrative images interpreting a proverb, the characteristics of the tribe and it's allegiances, usually evoked using animal metaphors,  my 'flag' declares an allegiance with the elements of air and water, it also illustrates the sentiment behind Jack Gilbert’s poem ‘Failing and Flying’, the quoted lines are a declaration that any success no matter how short-lived is a triumph. A life well lived will be full of such triumphs.

My Top Secret Job has sprung a leak.

It has become known that I sometimes work as a cook.

People have been telling me all about their favourite recipes.  *


This is a regular occurrence and I'm often astonished by the number of youngsters who speak wistfully of tinned fruit and semolina 

Yesterday a man in his twenties explained his favourite pudding:

rice pudding with a layer of tinned mandarins underneath and baked meringue  on top

and then his favourite sandwich

white buttered bread filled with sliced shiny green apples and sliced Mars Bar


*The TSJ has nothing to do with food

Still Mermaiding

This is my favourite swimming pool - a marine lake that gets refilled by the sea at high tide. The splendid autumnal sunsets have infused my swims with such ridiculous  romanticism that I've gone and signed  a promise to go there and swim at least twice a month until March


I have also booked a consultation with a mental health examiner

To escape my growing pile of rejection slips

I dashed to France for a hit of Mediterranean sun-and-sea and found the perfect slightly-difficult-to-get-to cove for my morning swims - just me, the fish and the sea-birds - until a boatload of Peeping Toms turned up.

Before France there was Derbyshire. Celebrating my father's 90th birthday. We hired a blazing-fireplace-cosy-cottage near Bakewell. There was a Grand Supper, my niece made a Bakewell Birthday Cake, the way we love our Bakewell Tarts (lots of Almonds, butter and sharp red jam) - it was truly delicious. Next day we visited Bakewell, a town consisting solely of tart vendors, each claiming to offer 'The Only Real Authentic Bakewell Pudding', two versions were sampled, the first was awful and the second inedible.

Mrs China has now been with us for a month. On Sunday she is moving to her permanent accommodation and I think we will both be relieved, she is still baffled by our rubbish disposal system and I can't understand her system of slippers and mats,  nor the systems of which things must see the sun and which things are not allowed to see other things.

I have come back to a little job which is a bit Top Secret - I drive to a massive aircraft hangar and unlock a series of doors until I arrive at a room where 214 objects have been collected, some of these pieces are worse than rubbish, others are worth millions (of which currency I shall not tell) I must unwrap these items, photograph them, say something about them and then seal them away - perhaps for ever.

I am trying to explain compost

my Chinese guest  is looking puzzled

any vegetable waste,  peelings, tea, coffee grounds ... put them in here  

I point at the kitchen waste bucket, she shrinks back in horror. Maybe I need to show more of the process, I pick up the bucket and beckon her to follow me up the garden, open the compost bin and tip the bucket  into it. She looks stricken 

Why would you do that?

It feeds the garden, the worms and insects break it down to make a rich soil - don't you feed your garden?

I feed my garden with yellow beans 

!!!

we have a Chinese guest this month

she looks absurdly young to be a professor of power electronics so naturally it's annoying to discover that she is only slightly younger than myself.

I watch her try to make sense of our house and her room. First of all we must address the FengShui, A mirror is immediately moved to a different situation

'The mirror must not see the bed  

I am asked to remove a small embroidered jacket that is framed and hangs on the wall as decoration

clothes must not be on the wall  

There is a large chest of drawers in her room, shelving and some hanging space but she doesn't want to use these, she has ordered a wire frame clothes airer

the clothes must see the sun  

In the kitchen my stove seems impossible and while she is struggling with my utensil logic she tells me that she can't switch on the lamps in her room, I describe the sort of switch to look for, miming the position and gesture to turn on and off, mime isn't enough, I use sound  - she finds this funny and I remember how differently cultures use sound for things, I am probably using the Chinese sound for 'frog' to explain 'light switch' and she thinks I am mad.


Before heading out to the university she gives me with a large red heart, resplendent in gold tassels and stuffed with  lavender, I am directed to put it in my car for good luck.

I keep the front gate squeaky

it's an early warning system so I can decide if I want to answer the door -very handy with last year's Cheesey episodes and continues to be useful. I am currently avoiding Toothless Eric, several chirpy 'just-sign-here-to-give-us-a-direct-debit-donation' people and a spat of very young shark-skin-suited Jehovah's witnesses.


A few days ago the gate squeaked and clanged followed by a slobbery, panting commotion. I looked out to see a pack of excited small horses or maybe big dogs cantering around in little circles, they'd pushed to let themselves in but didn't know how to pull and let themselves out, a man was calling in the distance but he couldn't see them, some of the animals realised they could jump out over the wall until one bouncy Tigger remained making circles and yelping, wondering where his friends had gone. Tigger seemed to be smiling so I went out and wrestled the gate open amid his bouncy greetings so he could go and rejoin the herd.

Sometimes people figure out how to mute the squeak. One night, a human visitor arrived in silence and left an enormous turd by the side of the steps, I didn't notice for a few days because my tin watering bucket had been placed on top of it.

Nearly Emergencies

I returned to Bristol on Sunday.  The Man took the car out then he rang me

Did you notice the hairline crack - the one running halfway along the bottom of the windscreen?

I hadn't.  I arranged for someone to fix it

that evening the Man said

my arms are achey  

on Monday morning the GP listened to his body and said 

you seem fine but we'll just take some blood  to make sure

in the afternoon a text arrived 

GO TO HOSPITAL NOW!!!!  

keyhole surgery - three stents around his heart

on Friday afternoon his son brought him home.  

We  celebrated a week of not having an Emergency with roast chicken and sweet potatoes

I'm in London on the top deck of a bus

someone is muttering in the seat behind me 

there is an odd burning smell 

the man is saying ow ow   OW!!! and then an extremely beery burp

seems to sort everything out

The Man arrived home with new hair

delighted that the barber he's been visiting for many years finally asked  -  

The usual sir?

He enjoyed the in-the-club feel of his 'usual' being remembered by the barber. Also he tells me that time saved on explaining means that he's in and out the barber's chair in ten minutes flat

How did you used to explain it?

I ask if he can make it shorter and look nice

a yoik is a nordic song

 it can involve a strong vocal projection akin to a yodel, the sound is intended to travel long distances so it can irritate the really far away neighbours. On Saturday afternoon I cooked Karelian pies* with Tuuletar, a Finnish band who demonstrated the yoik

The Man is a little hard of hearing - I can't get him to hear me if he's more than a couple of metres away from me - unless I yoik

in other news...

I've been commissioned to make a coffin cover - it's not the traditional sort of coffin and has a very particular shape.  

Today I downloaded the dimensions and started building a dummy coffin so I can construct a well fitted garment

Best shot

KermesZ a l'Est on Taste the World stage making mitraillettes

shopping list

a big bag of big potatoes

20kg beef dripping

2 X deep fat dryers

a can of sunflower oil

lots of diced lamb

20 X eggs yolks

a lot of garlic

2 X jars of 'unsweeted' mustard

salt and pepper

many big baguettes


method

make audience chop potatoes

double fry in sizzling dripping

band prepare lamb kebabs shake maraccas and hoot horns

horn player uses electric wand to make mayonnaise while playing mouth organ

loud noise must be produced for duration of project

to serve

Wipe a cooked kebab through a 10cm slice of  baguette that has been
liberally spread with garlic mayonnaise - you now have a lubricated meat
sandwich

cram sandwich with chips and more mayonnaise

you can be a little quieter now while you share the eating with a friend



KermesZ a l'Est also do this sort of thing

It's WOMAD time again

I will be operating the Taste The World stage*

a band of Balkan-music-playing-Belgians wish to make frites - the correct way 

Taste the World starts with a series of quests, today I must venture into the a part of the city devoid of homes, beard trimming workshops, and artisan bread shops. I drive my trusty steed deep into the land of wholesale fruit markets, timber yards, metal welders and ... the edible oil depot to collect 20kg of beef dripping   

I park alongside a fleet of lorries, buzz a wonky doorbell and am let into the sort of reception area that shouts at you that the entire workforce is male    

Scraps of discarded bits of paper  decorate the carpet, I wait for a man in wellington boots to process my order, I pay, he disappears then returns with my box of dripping

are you using it to make casts?


today I learn that sculptural casting is a common use for beef dripping


*Taste The World is a kitchen on a stage,  musicians come here cook (or direct me to cook) and talk about what they eat back home - click tags beneath this post for previous on this event

overheard conversation

I came across this in one of my old notebooks

Three women are sitting at a table under a tree outside a café, they have tea and cakes, one of the women is asked about her new boyfriend   

So what’s this man like?

He’s the hairiest man I’ve ever seen - hairier than a monkey

hairier than Robbie Williams?

I’ve never seen Robbie Williams

He’s really hairy

Yeah hairier than that – when he was in hospital the nurse drew back his sheets and screamed

I'm being interviewed in a hairdressing salon

between the sinks are small mountains of bosomy torsos and manly sets of legs

phantom limbs stick out - waving or drowning or kicking the air

one of our volunteers inherited the contents of a vintage shop, these mannequins will go in our sensory room

our conversation is overwhelmed by the religious service going on in the care home lounge which is also a coffee shop. The hairdressing salon-slash-office is a glass-walled cube within the lounge-slash-church-slash-coffee shop. 

when the congregation shut their eyes in prayer we sneak out to investigate the sensory room

it's along the 'willow' corridor

care homes use plant names so they don't have to say 'dementia' too much, other homes refer to patients with dementia as 'bluebells', the same way some people say 'fudge' instead of other, ruder 'f' words   
  
we stand in the doorway of the sensory room, it's empty except for a row of chairs and a rainbow-coloured-fibre-optic-disco-light 

we'll bring in herbs and then people will smell the mint and it'll remind them of sunday roast lamb dinners

I think of the willow people feeling the boobies and manly trunks when the mannequins take up residence

I'm basically a mermaid these days

recent trips to Devon have offered many opportunities to get in the water and in Britain it can be a bit chilly. My first sea dip in May made me dizzy and my hands felt like they'd been stamped on - for some reason this makes me feel heroic.


I've also been walking along the river Dart. Today I found a good skinny-dipping spot. Being naked seems to automatically join people into a sort of club, pleasantries are exchanged in a manner that doesn't happen in 'textile situations'*   


*I'm practising this new context for 'textile' since I discovered that's how naturists refer to people who wear clothing, such as this naturist report on a campsite on Slapton Sands


"...a really good site, with what must be unique co-existence in this country. Large field with views to the sea - top two thirds of site textile, bottom third naturist, with just an open post and rail fence to mark an informal division. No gates, and the fence is open to drive / walk round at both ends. Very easygoing and relaxed. All facilities, apart from a fresh water tap, are on the textile side, so need to dress to access them."


image: Barry Lewis - Natural Theatre Company in London

Cat repair person for hire

I've returned to Devon to look after a cat called Edna, I was here a couple of months ago. Edna was a gaunt, trembly old thing when I arrived but after just 10 days in my care Edna turned into a lovely shiny thing, her tembliness became bounce, she had plumped up nicely and her owners exclaimed with joy about the new, improved cat waiting for them.

I seem to have discovered how to work the cat reset button

I'm not saying I can mend a properly broken cat, my abilities lie in fixing those slightly manky cats, the ones that have gone a bit boss-eyed and keep forgetting to clean themselves, or the ones that over-lick one area of their body, also the bony neurotic cats that shiver for no good reason and I'm pretty good at eliminating asthma attacks. I've had no luck with dirty-protest cats like the Bum-Crayoner but I do think there might be a call for a professional cat-plumper-and-polisher (feline-smoother/cat valet?) - I'm working on my marketing for this new business

In a room full of people. I am talking about mudlarking

a woman came over to us she unzipped her handbag and started rooting through it

I live at Walton-on-the Naze where the coast is full of shark's teeth - look I've got one in my purse

Conversations

Scenario 1 : an almost empty charity shop this morning  
 
I am examining curtain fabric, an exotic-looking young man is standing near me, he is examining a denim coat and keeps exclaiming

Oh look sheep fur ... it's lined with sheep fur ... even the arms are lined with sheep fur  

I put down the curtains, look at him and put my hands inside the coat sleeves. He looks sheepish and modifies his claim

No ... there's not really sheep fur in the arms ... but look at the sheep fur in the body 

I open the coat fully, indeed the body is lined - with tan teddy bear fabric. It is a beautiful coat and would suit him. I say that he must have it. He declines - unsuitable weather.



Scenario 2 : a crowded waiting room in the hospital this afternoon.   

I sit by an elderly Indian lady, she is dwarfed by the enormous wheelchair she is sitting in. She rolls up her trouser leg to show me her knee, she says that now she always wears trousers:  

Sari is very elegant but it collects a lot of dust between the legs as you walk 


Scenario 3 : with The Man and His son at supper this evening

Strawberries and cream are on the table. The son puts strawberries in his bowl and then cream ... a lot of cream ... then more strawberries... then more cream
I put too much cream in, so I had to add more strawberries, but then there wasn't quite enough cream so I had to add more ...  it's a delicious circle

Footwear Coordinator Wanted

at the  Royal Shakespeare Company   - can my newfound passion for pockets expand to a general aptitude for sartorial appurtenances? 

'... As Footwear Coordinator, you will be reporting directly to the Head of Costume Props, Footwear and Armoury  ...'  


... and of course I know so much about armour   


art  shoes by Gwen Murphy found here

The new job went tits up

turned out I didn't fit

A uniform had been ordered for me but hadn't arrived by the time I started.  I fashioned an approximation of 'The Institutional Style' and at the end of my first week I was summoned to the Principal's office and told that my uniform should not have pockets, could I please find a less pocketty shirt. 

I tried to make the case for pockets:
•  easier to steal stuff 
•  ability to carry tissues/drugs and issue these to people who need them

The Principal remained adamant on pocketlessness so I snipped them off  and she said I was being silly and that might have been the beginning of the end or maybe the end had started right at the beginning and I couldn't tell

Jobs jobs jobs

The Natural History Museum is looking for a Curator of Meteorites but too late for me  to apply because I am now employed to bring Art to the Bewildered at a specialised facility on the edge of town. The Bewildered includes myself, the rest of the staff, the residents and the visitors

Despite it being in my job title,  I've stopped using the 'A' word, too many people find it frightening or annoying,  if asked what I do, I've learned to say that my job is to make life more interesting, no-one seems to be able to argue with that.

Data Privacy Rules are being updated - I'm not even allowed to write myself notes anymore let alone tell you what I'm up to, so details will be scant I'm afraid. 

Being part of a big work crew again after two years in anthropological study is delirious. My colleagues all  seem exotically fascinating - there's Big Doreen who told me off on my first day for standing on the wrong mat, and Mousey-Cat who keeps asking me really really sweetly to do 'little jobs' for her. Toya takes up all the space wherever she is, she's covered in tattoos and spends the entirety of every break in the tiny staff room having Facetime with her boyfriend or, in the event of internet breakdown, telling us all about what he-said-she-said last night and the night before, there was a brief moment when she stopped to draw breath and Helga, a young Finnish nurse leapt in to veer the conversation away

I would like one of those tattoo sleeves but for my leg - just one

me: would you call it a tattoo half-a-trouser?

elderly nurse: I don't understand, how can you have a trouser tattoo?

me: Actually it'd be more like a one-legged pair of tights - a tattoo stocking

Toya: .... he says he's taking me out for dinner tonight and I said well I'm paying and he said ...

My sister has been sending me fringes

photos of fringes that she might adopt as part of a new hairstyle - what did I think of this one? ... or this one?   

yesterday, there was a photo of the final fringe, in situ on my actual sister's actual head - it was GREAT!!!

Then she went to pick my niece up from school.

The niece looked at her new mother, clapped her hands over her mouth and ran back into school, the teacher went in after her and found the child sobbing - because her mother's fringe was sooooo beautiful

When my niece had calmed down, her mother said that she could also have a fringe if she wanted, the child was beside herself with delight and they popped into the hairdresser on the way home, she thinks hairstyles are like tattoos

Will we stay like this forever?

The nephew on the other hand was less keen, he thinks the fringe is ok as long as his mother keeps walking and there's a wind to blow it up a bit but he doesn't like it when she's just standing still. He is making plans on how to deal with unwanted still hair.

The House painting is finished

The painter disappeared and promised that the scaffolders would be here, today at nine sharp to take the scaffolding down. Because the scaffolding was pinned to the wall some unpainted spots on the wall will be revealed, the scaffolders promised they'd spot them in, paint man worried that they'd not bother - I had to be here when they arrived to ensure final painting touches happened.

Two loud, crashy, bum-cracky blokes finally arrived at 2pm, all sweary about having been sent to do the dismantle on their own, they weren't going to finish the job today and they were going to be really smashy and messy about what they did do.

Unluckily for them I was by now a whole lot swearier and smashier ...

Ok, so I found a job

but I'm also still looking ...

this is for a job at Splash!

Description

We require two Photographers to shoot children with their parents in our swimming pool concessions located in Guildford, Kingston, Crawley and Woking. The job is sociable and enjoyable...



or this, for an art teacher in London 

Description

We are looking for teachers who are experienced with young teenagers aged 13-16, and can solve their problems...

Close inspection of my windows

has revealed more rot than was suspected. A man with a Black Country accent, gold teeth a headscarf and dreadlocks came and took the worst one off to the window workshop leaving a sad boarded-over hole behind, this has coincided with news that the car needs a new radiator AND air conditioning system. 

I must try to  interweave Happy Thoughts among the grim reality of my latest news:
HT 1. I went to see a movie  - 'The Square' at a cinema called The Cube - loved the movie but managed to kick over a full glass of rum as I took my seat

Cheesey* has moved back into our neighbourhood, he appears outside my gate to alternate abusive language with wheedling tones - you and I could get on really well if you'd just give it a chance. On Sunday I was inside the house and heard him swearing at someone in the next road, his choice of words indicated that he was harrassing another woman, I walked out to see him pushing his trolley up the road, he'd tipped over the big rubbish bin in the entrance to her block of flats, she was on the phone to the police saying that this had been going on for weeks.

HT 2. I found some fine-wool-brand-new-never-worn Jaeger trousers at the charity shop - perfect fit perfect length

*clicking on the 'Cheesey' label below will throw up yet more Cheese

I returned to Bristol Saturday afternoon

and am just starting to dry out at the edges. The first Devon day was drizzly, the second was showery, the third really rather rainy, the fourth, fifth and sixth days poured buckets unendingly. Saturday morning was dry but overcast so I took Old Dog for a trip to Sidmouth - a 1950's seaside town slotted in a valley between eye-bogglingly red cliffs.

On Easter Sunday one of the lodgers locked herself in her room with a medical emergency - something to do with recreational drugs and a bit scary but we've recovered now.

This morning the scaffolders arrived to metal-up the front of our house. The very chatty decorator arrives tomorrow. This afternoon I suddenly hated the test colour patches that I'd painted on the front wall and went rushing around the neighbourhood with a paint swatch book, holding the coloured squares against houses that I think look nice. At the moment I think we're going with 'Frosted Sage'.

This is my 1005th post, I always just miss significant anniversaries so I'll just say now that in three months I'll have been Sandwiching for TEN YEARS

The Oldest Dog in the World

is currently keeping tabs on me. We are in coastal Devon. Old Dog tries to maintain contact between his nose and my leg at all times just in case I make off with any bones or shoes or go out without him. Old Dog is exasperated by my inability to use the fridge properly - I am simply not  taking out enough things, he's pretty sure there are sausages in there and there is definitely chicken. When I opened the freezer an unsealed bag of meatballs spilled out, bouncing and rolling across the kitchen floor, Old Dog hoovered up a mouthful that had rolled his way, then almost strangled himself trying to crunch them up and swallow the pieces down before I could prise his jaws open.

When not caring for elderly animals I'm looking for paid employment, I am in job-seekers-Limbo,  Dante might have written about this, it is definitely one of the  circles of hell - an endless cycle of ploughing through illiterate/incomplete job descriptions for shockingly poorly paid posts, making applications then being politely informed that I was nearly-but-not-quite-good-enough.

Sadly I was unqualified for the job entitled "Head of Large Objects' at the Imperial War Museum but did seem to have the necessary skills to apply for the post of  'Funeral Arranger' with one of the UK's principal funeral directing companies. The application process included a multiple-choice questionnaire:

Q. 1 - As a Funeral Arranger you will sometimes have direct contact with 'The Deceased' how do you feel about that?
A) Fantastic, I've always been fascinated by dead people
B) Horror, I would not be able to do that
C) I understand that it would be a necessary part of the job

Q. 2 - You will have to meet relatives and friends of 'The Deceased', they might be upset how do you feel about that?
A) Great, I thrive in emotional situations, I would cry along with them
B) Embarassed, people should keep their emotions buttoned up
C) Being upset is a normal reaction to bereavement, I would be sympathetic

Following my success at pressing the 'C' button I was telephoned and interviewed by a Call Centre Person - she knew nothing about the job. When I mentioned that I had not been able to access a full job description or details of compensation/benefits/terms/conditions etc. I was told that those details would be forthcoming only if I was offered the job - I persisted and discovered that I would be expected to own a reliable car and use it to do the job, that I would be expected to be entirely flexible in my availability as I would work rotating shifts including weekends, evenings and bank holidays - but I would be paid only for 20 hours per week, the salary would be around the level of the National Minimum Wage (not quite £8 per hour)

In Other News 

I have discovered a new Hero 
Natalie Haynes is very funny and very clever, do listen to her talk about Sapho on BBC Radio 4, or just check her out on Youtube - she is simply the best Classics teacher ever!

the oldest cat in the world

is my responsibility this week. She has become so fragile and bony that I am almost afraid to stroke her, she creeps gingerly up to me then complains loudly that there is not enough food or her water needs freshening - I fear the effort will see her off.

Last night I dreamed that I went down in the morning to find her stiff little body on the sofa. 

Sometimes I stay in homes that are so full of pillows and cushions that there is no space for a body, this house was moderately cushioned but had an amplitude of odiferous things -  'linen sprays' - I didn't even know 'linen spray' was a thing -  pots of sticks dipped in scented oil, jar upon jar of scented candles on every flat surface.  

My sister had a theory - they must be really farty!

before Christmas

my ears, nose and cervix were inspected in the appropriate medical establishments. Yesterday the orificial examination circuit was completed with visits to the dentist and the colonoscopist. Inside the colonoscopist's inspection chamber the kindly nurse asked me to take off my own clothing and put on some stiff navy shorts with a velcro'ed flap around the sitting area, they were labelled 'Dignity Shorts' Once again Edward Lear provides an appropriate illustration

The Beast from the East arrived in Bristol yesterday

it came in from London with me. By the time I'd skidded the car into our road the kerb was no longer visible. I had to park quite a way from the house, the blizzard forcing me to comedy-walk to our front door. Already the kids were out with sliding devices to polish the hill outside our house.

The weather was just mad today

I woke to thick blobs of snow rushing at the bedroom window, ten minutes later the sun was out, blue sky, dry pavements. I dressed and walked for 40 minutes down the road during which time I experienced two arctic-blizzard-blazing-sun bi-polar weather cycles

In other news

I'm listening to Portrait of the Artist  as a Young Man read by Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes - it's the ideal accompaniment to a big wallow in a hot bath

The bus stop was by a hairdressing salon

in the front part there were two lime green sofas, in the window a beautifully typographed hairdressing menu offered 'Japanese Straightening' in two varieties along with other, more exotic elaborations.

I was transfixed by a beautiful Japanese woman  reading a magazine, the blonde sections in her black Japanese-straight hair were tucked behind her ears creating yellow triangles, then I noticed the man behind the counter, massive like a Sumo wrestler. Green-haired, his ear lobes had the sort of piercing that makes a really big hole and held what looked like the spooney parts of soup spoons.  Edward Lear popped into my mind at this point, which is why I have illustrated this story with the Dong and his luminous nose

I've had loads of culture this month

the latest was a visit to the Southbank to see the revamped Hayward Gallery and a massive exhibition of Andreas Gursky's massive photographs. Before seeing the exhibition I went to hear Ralph Rugoff, the Hayward's Director discuss the photographer's themes, framing is a recurring theme, he photographs humans and their stuff contained in a series of boxes within boxes; buildings, cars, offices, rooms ... they all have windows - frames through which we can look at the stuff and at each other.

After the talk I went to look at the photographs, on the way to them I took this one - eat your heart out Gursky!

I'm staying in London this month, visiting culture, taking part in an arts residency and continuing my anthropological research on the Thames Foreshore*

There's socialising to do here too. Last night at supper my friends were loudly denouncing Phantom Thread, a movie I'd thoroughly enjoyed, it's about a very British sort of weirdness, revealed in a way that only a foreigner can manage - according to my friends the only thing good about it were the flowers - an element that I had failed to notice.




* The Thames foreshore is the term for the beaches that appear when the Thames is at low tide - lots of people go there, they do beachcombing, walk their dogs, look at remains of boats and Saxon fishtraps - it's a temporary seaside place

Walking down Kingsland Road last week

I heard a man's voice hiss
  

move your dirty body out of the way  

I was going at quite a clip anyway, it was a broad pavement and he actually couldn't walk any faster than me so we were going along side by side.  I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly so I said

Sorry?

He looked sideways at me and scowled and managed to walk a little ahead of me so I could get the best view of his stained and unpleasant sweat pants.

He was around 30, a lot bigger than me and clearly an Angry Man so, although in theory I'm all for calling people out and standing my ground etc. I figured that this might not end well for me - it was becoming a stand-off - so after walking beside him for just a couple more minutes I crossed the road and we paralleled each other for the next mile until he turned off.

How to defend oneself?

The painter Rose Wylie depicts HRH Elizazabeth First disguised as a piece of furniture to keep attackers at bay. 

On my way back from the Rose Wylie show I visited the Wallace Collection. I recalled hearing a captivating interview with Tobias Capwell the mueum's Curator of Armour and a man with his own collection of custom-made armour - he does a lot of jousting, I remember his comment that one doesn't 'wear' armour, one 'operates' it - it becomes a prosthetic device, I found this intriguing so I went for a closer look.

I found this piece of Lady Armour - also handy for the after-fight Fetish Ball

An elaborate celebration cake

was my contribution to a birthday party last week.

Slabs of lemon drizzle sponge cake, jars of homemade lemon curd, a vat of lemony creamy cheesecake, a pot of lemon/vanilla frosting, boxes of paper pasted with crispy thin shards of bitter chocolate and a tub of lemon peel that had been turned into candied yellow ribbon - all these things needed to be kept separate and cold ready to assemble on party day  - Party Fridge (see previous post) was my dearest friend in this endeavour. When Neat New Fridge arrived a few days ago, I cleaned up my dear friend, wrapped her so she could still breathe and then I placed her in the wood store - ready for the next party.

Two years ago

we hosted a splendid party which involved a lot of cold meat and jelly. To boost my cooling power I bought an extra fridge. 

When the event was finished and everyone had eaten the leftovers I was going to give Party Fridge back to the charity shop from whence it came - but then our lodgers found it handy and it stayed, Party Fridge is a little too high to fit nicely anywhere, so stands awkwardly in the corridor outside the kitchen, as though waiting to be asked in.

Party Fridge was too large for the next lodger who bought Baby Fridge to put in her room, lodger has left but Baby Fridge remains. I want to get rid of them all 

but not until I have bought and installed the correct fridge 

The correct fridge arrived this morning and I realised that I am currently able to say that I have an embarrassment of fridges