Friday, 15 June 2007
Sunday, 10 June 2007
Refugee Springwatch 2
We can’t claim to have seen hungry baby owls eating their siblings or hares copulating in fields or Bill Goodie being patronising to the lovely Kate at Refugee Towers, but……
……Our first 2 wren chicks have fledged their nest. Good luck to them. Where do they go? Probably not too far according to goodie old Bill. 2 gone, 4 to go.
……Our first 2 wren chicks have fledged their nest. Good luck to them. Where do they go? Probably not too far according to goodie old Bill. 2 gone, 4 to go.
……On Friday, the 4 blackbird eggs hatched to reveal 4 scrawny, featherless chicks with enormous gaping mouths and closed eyes. Unfortunately, by the time I snapped the brood this morning there were only 3 left. The mother remains attentive – keeping her brood warm when in the nest and returning regularly after feeding.
……Previously unmentioned is the vast sparrow colony living noisily in the ivy/Russian vine hedge and in a back wall in the cracks between the stones. We’ve added a bird-feeder and they have quickly adapted to feed from it, as well as making an almighty mess of the seed they drop on the ground beneath.
……It’s been difficult to discern just how many swallow chicks because we’re now not quite sure how many swallows have actually nested this year. IS and I spent an hour today checking out (and videoing) the swallows in the barn. As a result, we have to revise our swallow stats. There are 5 nests in the barn of which 3 are in use – 6 swallows fly in, out and around the inside of the barn at regular intervals. We have seen 4 chicks in one nest, 2 in another and we have heard 2 or 3 in a 3rd nest. Interestingly, the swallow chicks start to open their mouths when they hear their parents chirruping OUTSIDE the barn.
During our stay in the barn we discovered 3 chicks dead on the ground beneath one nest and 2 chicks dead on the ground beneath another nest. Once a chick falls from the 20 foot from the nest to the ground about 20+ feet below there is no way back. We were very sad to find the dead chicks and it may be that the nests were not constructed well enough or they may just have toppled out but perhaps the parents don’t seem to be unduly troubled – they still fly around happily – and they will soon produce a second summer brood.
Thursday, 7 June 2007
A llama in the cowpat
The Scene: The sofa. Refugee Towers
The Time: Last night.
The Players: All the Refugees
The Event: Watching the latest edition of Springwatch
The Time: Last night.
The Players: All the Refugees
The Event: Watching the latest edition of Springwatch
TV SCENE
The island of Isla and the presenter Simon is in a field of (gorgeous) highland cattle and choughs pecking at cowpats.
SIMON: …so here we have the symbiosis between these highland cattle and the chough. Let me just look at this cowpat (prodding the pat with a twig) and come back to me in 5 minutes.
5 MINUTES LATER
SIMON: (turning over a handful of insects in the palm of his hand) This what I’ve removed from the pat…..a beetle…a worm…a pupa…2 stag beetles…a millipede…and a larva.
ES (from the sofa): A llama!?!
Laughter from all, especially an uncontrollable Mrs R, and then…
ALL REFUGEES: (to ES) Not a llama…a larva!!!!
LOGOrrhoea of Olympic proportions
Well, blistering athletes groin! What’s all this trash talk about our illustrious Olympic logo?
Take a migraine tablet, put on your 4-d specs and throw one more glance at the logo……
Though I have a hankering for this one in remembrance of soon-to-be lamented Emperor……
Good Lord this bloke needs a hug! Anyone?
Personally, I think he could have run this up with his Etch-a-Sketch and pocketed £399k......
And here’s one I would have been proud to design……
Cooool! Like a Roger Hilton painting.
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
School is IN for the second half-term
After the busy half-term Home Educating break we have resumed school (at home). IS and ES continue to happily accede to our timetable of home schooling – we start promptly at 9.30, have a break for 30 minutes around 11 and then work on until 1.30. The afternoon is taken up with cycling, sibling rivalry and of course RefugeeSpringwatch.
In the barn this week, IS has been studying The Romans under the inexpert but enthusiastic tutelage of Mrs R. Today, IS completed an ‘aged’ scroll (tea infusion and matches) of a diary of her life as a girl in Rome. Her mother stays at home whilst her father, ME, is in charge of a Roman legion. Mr Refugee as Roman role model...ha!
In the kitchen, ES has been astounding me at Maths. For a 7½ year-old who had only learnt numbers at Steiner school up until April, ES can now regularly add 3 numbers together in her head…which even her 2 older sisters have trouble with. Fancy having a Maths star in the family!?
In the barn this week, IS has been studying The Romans under the inexpert but enthusiastic tutelage of Mrs R. Today, IS completed an ‘aged’ scroll (tea infusion and matches) of a diary of her life as a girl in Rome. Her mother stays at home whilst her father, ME, is in charge of a Roman legion. Mr Refugee as Roman role model...ha!
In the kitchen, ES has been astounding me at Maths. For a 7½ year-old who had only learnt numbers at Steiner school up until April, ES can now regularly add 3 numbers together in her head…which even her 2 older sisters have trouble with. Fancy having a Maths star in the family!?
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
Refugee Springwatch 1
Those damned miserable critters (TV critics) keep flogging the mantra that there’s no ‘family television’ these days. Well, guys…get your poisoned quills out and refill with cool green ink, because......
......Family Refugee have become entranced, entertained and mesmerised by Springwatch – mainly by the animals but also by the presenters..yes, even by Bill Goodie-Goodie. Our sofa is as squashed as a chough’s nest of 8 as all the refugees snuggle up to watch our hour of laughs, antics and sorrow.
Meanwhile, in the grounds of Refugee Towers, we have our very own RefugeeSpringWatch.
I’ve previously gabbled on about our glorious swallows –
4 nests in 3 locations: 2 nests in a derelict barn, 1 nest in a garage, 1 nest in a shed.
(Sorry, no pics so far as the nests are 20 foot above ground)
But yesterday, I saw a sight that I'd never seen before. A crow hovered at the window of the barn and then flew off....followed immediately by one of our swallows in demonic pursuit. The crow was clearly not prepared for a swallow (one-quarter its size) to duck and dive at the crow as it made its escape. For about 200 yards the swallow harried the crow relentlessly until it wheeled away and returned triumphantly and bravely home to its brood.
Last week the younger refugees have discovered a wren’s nest in the crack of a stone adjacent to a shed door – there are 6 young wren’s squeezed into the cosy nest. Whenever any refuge goes near the wrens there is a mass screeching for food. Meanwhile the parent wrens attend constantly with plenty of worms and grubs. and probably the odd peck on the cheek.
......Family Refugee have become entranced, entertained and mesmerised by Springwatch – mainly by the animals but also by the presenters..yes, even by Bill Goodie-Goodie. Our sofa is as squashed as a chough’s nest of 8 as all the refugees snuggle up to watch our hour of laughs, antics and sorrow.
Meanwhile, in the grounds of Refugee Towers, we have our very own RefugeeSpringWatch.
I’ve previously gabbled on about our glorious swallows –
4 nests in 3 locations: 2 nests in a derelict barn, 1 nest in a garage, 1 nest in a shed.
(Sorry, no pics so far as the nests are 20 foot above ground)
But yesterday, I saw a sight that I'd never seen before. A crow hovered at the window of the barn and then flew off....followed immediately by one of our swallows in demonic pursuit. The crow was clearly not prepared for a swallow (one-quarter its size) to duck and dive at the crow as it made its escape. For about 200 yards the swallow harried the crow relentlessly until it wheeled away and returned triumphantly and bravely home to its brood.
Last week the younger refugees have discovered a wren’s nest in the crack of a stone adjacent to a shed door – there are 6 young wren’s squeezed into the cosy nest. Whenever any refuge goes near the wrens there is a mass screeching for food. Meanwhile the parent wrens attend constantly with plenty of worms and grubs. and probably the odd peck on the cheek.
And a blackbird’s nest well camouflaged in a heavy rose bush beneath the wisteria – 4 eggs with a highly attentive but wary mother in Mona Lisa fashion.
Updates to follow as the action intensifies.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
"It was 40 years ago today......
....that Tyger Hutchings took the band to play",
(to paraphrase Lennon-McCartney)
in Golders Green.
On this very day back in 1967 – just days before Sgt Pepper’s release and the impending summer of love – a group of fellow North Londoners played their first ‘live’ gig.
It began with friends Ashley ‘Tyger’ Hutchings and Simon Nicol collecting together Richard Thompson and Shaun Frater for everyone to.....
Golders Green, opp Woolworth’s.
Adv. Tickets 5s. 01-883-2505”.
It's extraordinary to think that that unprepossessing band of North London teenagers have burgeoned into the pantheon of the British folk-rock legends. Forty years on, it looks like Fairport may well be around in another 50-100 years…somehow.
I have pulled my original posting so that I can dredge up some more thoughts and repost a lengthened
version in a week or so
I have pulled my original posting so that I can dredge up some more thoughts and repost a lengthened
version in a week or so
Tuesday, 22 May 2007
Home schooling
We’re into our 3rd week of home schooling and it has been…..tiring, thought-provoking, exasperating but most of all very rewarding.
The GB HE school consists of the redoubtable Mrs R who has taken charge of English, Classics, Botany, Biology, Art and Languages (French and South London) whilst I am doing a fearsome impression of Mr Squeers, in charge of aggravated Mathematics, Cane-swishing and Toilet Duties.
In IS’s case, we tolerated far far too long her Steiner education which really began and ended with her very poor teacher. This was emphasised when started home schooling and we realised that IS had trouble with 3 times table and very simple division - not good for a 10 year-old. At Steiner, it seems that the basics were not covered well - looking back there were cursory lessons on times tables and simple division whereas there was plenty of princes, water sprites and bears swapping bags of gold around in the name of maths. Call me old-fashioned, yes I'm burdened with having been born in the 50's, but the start should be writing letters/words/numbers, spelling and times tables by rote - there, I'm labelled forever. Anyway, for the past 3 weeks, IS has looked so different from the bored, listless girl that was suffering under the Steiner yoke; she is now brighter, more responsive, taking pride in her work and having more confidence and self-esteem. Whoopee!
I did 1½hours quite basic Maths with IS and then…..
…….Some English with ES. 4 weeks ago ES, 7½, could not read more than 20 words and was just learning her numbers from 1 to 20 – though she was damn hot on knowing how much pocket money she should receive. Now, ES knows up to her 4 times table by heart and is doing simple mental addition/subtraction and number ‘games’. On top of that, she is devouring Oxford Reading Tree books and knows 2 Ant and Bee cover-to-cover.
This isn’t to blow our own foghorns but there are 2 salient points to be made here. Firstly, the Steiner system is V E R Y S L O W, which is not a particularly bad system as it works out fine in other countries, but once the child reaches 7 the Steiner system can remain pedantic….unless there is a good teacher. Secondly, for the rest of this term, our girls are getting 1-to-1 tuition which, even with fumbling amateur efforts, is better than the 1-to-20+ state system.
My only regret is that there are some many FAB blogs out there and not enough time to read them at the moment. Que sera sera sera!
Friday, 18 May 2007
Want some sweets little girl
The phone range this afternoon and it was Mrs R from her mobile from town. The gist of her call was that there was a middle-aged man hanging around the Junior school looking furtive and supposedly “offering sweets”.
I walked up the garden to where ES, 7½, was riding her bike just to check that she knew not to go ‘too far’.
Me: I just wanted to make sure you don’t ride your bike past our lane.
ES: No, I’m just around here.
Me: Errm, sweetheart, what would you do if someone, a strange man, you didn’t know came along and offered you some sweets?
ES: (Eyes alight) Sweets!? (then a moment’s thought) Well, I‘d take them….but I would give him some money for them.
The lesson this afternoon was ‘Confectionery - and how it can damage your health’.
Monday, 14 May 2007
Fair game at the Game Fair
Well into our 7th year in God’s own county – a Yorkshire quote, not mine – and we took the plunge and handed over scores of dosh for our first entry into the annual Great Bickering Game Fair.
The fair is held just on the way out of town on a vast area of green land owned by the shaven-headed Simon - GB's own Branson. Simon tends to walk determinedly and moodily around town invariably followed by a couple of acolytes with antennae twitching. Up to now I had never said more than ‘Hello’, ‘Morning’ or ‘Hi’ to him but as we pulled up at the entrance ready to pay there was the taciturn Simon barking orders at his minions to get the cars moving towards the Car park in some order. Suddenly he came over and apologised to us for the chaos and his temper…and threw us a beamer of a SMILE. This is a man I could sit down with one day and have a happyccino and chew over life in Great Bickering.
The Fair was spread over 2 enormous fields encircled with perhaps 80 or so stalls and turned out to be a great success with our refugees for a number of reasons. We had never seen such a large number of dogs in one day…mainly labs, spaniels, greyhounds and border terriers but with a smattering of Jack Daniels, Scotties and lurchers – this is clearly the Dog Social of the Year around North Yorks. The early part of the day was spent walking 10 yards and then chatting with a dog, walking a further 15 yards and stroking a pair of collies and so it went on. The girls spent time on the obligatory bouncy castle/slide complex and then on the karting track but we as the cash flowed from my pocket we averred on the offer of a chopper ride around town (at £25 a head).
The food was typical Yorkshire fayre – roast anything with chips, baps and tea. The stalls were enticing….Cantabrian Rat Catcher, The Stolen Tool Company, The British Ferret League, Wetwang Cushions, Louise’s Dog Leads, Arnold Philpott, Daughter and Grandaughters etc etc. Of course, what the Fair is about is ostensibly animals and their co-relation with Yorkshire folk but for me what was most fascinating for me was people-watching. Market Day in Great Bickering is interesting enough – retired farmers standing around in huddles talking about…well, what retired farmers talk about - but the Fair threw ALL the varied locals into this arena. One thing that Yorkshire folk do not seem to have much of a care for and that is Fashion. Come on Stella McC or Donatella – open a Fashion House up here, pet.
The last event of any mention for us was the Derwent Hunt Beagles – 3
riders in pink galloping around the arena blowing their hunting horns with the beagles eagerly following and most of audience orgiastically watching….save for our quintet – unabashed, Mrs R, HS and ES were jeering them. With my quiet sensibility I just looked embarrassed, took pics and imagined they were a rogue branch of the Balham HuntSab.....time to leave and head back to our car stickered with ‘For Fox sake – Ban the Hunt’ - all 4 tyres were in tact so it was off home.
* I have been asked, quite correctly, by Mrs R to state that Mrs R did in no way on that day in that circumstance jeer the hunters, though the lovely Mrs may well have caterwalled on other days in other circumstances....but that's a topic for another day. The record is straight-er!
The fair is held just on the way out of town on a vast area of green land owned by the shaven-headed Simon - GB's own Branson. Simon tends to walk determinedly and moodily around town invariably followed by a couple of acolytes with antennae twitching. Up to now I had never said more than ‘Hello’, ‘Morning’ or ‘Hi’ to him but as we pulled up at the entrance ready to pay there was the taciturn Simon barking orders at his minions to get the cars moving towards the Car park in some order. Suddenly he came over and apologised to us for the chaos and his temper…and threw us a beamer of a SMILE. This is a man I could sit down with one day and have a happyccino and chew over life in Great Bickering.
The Fair was spread over 2 enormous fields encircled with perhaps 80 or so stalls and turned out to be a great success with our refugees for a number of reasons. We had never seen such a large number of dogs in one day…mainly labs, spaniels, greyhounds and border terriers but with a smattering of Jack Daniels, Scotties and lurchers – this is clearly the Dog Social of the Year around North Yorks. The early part of the day was spent walking 10 yards and then chatting with a dog, walking a further 15 yards and stroking a pair of collies and so it went on. The girls spent time on the obligatory bouncy castle/slide complex and then on the karting track but we as the cash flowed from my pocket we averred on the offer of a chopper ride around town (at £25 a head).
The food was typical Yorkshire fayre – roast anything with chips, baps and tea. The stalls were enticing….Cantabrian Rat Catcher, The Stolen Tool Company, The British Ferret League, Wetwang Cushions, Louise’s Dog Leads, Arnold Philpott, Daughter and Grandaughters etc etc. Of course, what the Fair is about is ostensibly animals and their co-relation with Yorkshire folk but for me what was most fascinating for me was people-watching. Market Day in Great Bickering is interesting enough – retired farmers standing around in huddles talking about…well, what retired farmers talk about - but the Fair threw ALL the varied locals into this arena. One thing that Yorkshire folk do not seem to have much of a care for and that is Fashion. Come on Stella McC or Donatella – open a Fashion House up here, pet.
The last event of any mention for us was the Derwent Hunt Beagles – 3
riders in pink galloping around the arena blowing their hunting horns with the beagles eagerly following and most of audience orgiastically watching….save for our quintet – unabashed, Mrs R, HS and ES were jeering them. With my quiet sensibility I just looked embarrassed, took pics and imagined they were a rogue branch of the Balham HuntSab.....time to leave and head back to our car stickered with ‘For Fox sake – Ban the Hunt’ - all 4 tyres were in tact so it was off home.
* I have been asked, quite correctly, by Mrs R to state that Mrs R did in no way on that day in that circumstance jeer the hunters, though the lovely Mrs may well have caterwalled on other days in other circumstances....but that's a topic for another day. The record is straight-er!
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
Oh to be 10 again
Refugee Farm entertained a VIM – my mother – over the BH weekend; she came not to see her favourite son but because she thought her grand-daughters were on the borderline of not remembering who she was and one refugee grand-daughter was approaching a double-digit Birthday celebration. My mum’s visits are infrequent because she believes that the temperature north of Newport Pagnell rarely tops -20°C, so that limits us to the months July and August. Anyway, she chanced the weather and we switched on the heating again. Brrrrrrrrrr……
I spent one weekend morning mowing and strimming the lawns and surrounds: it’s not dissimilar in mind-numbing ability to painting walls, jogging or writing a sketch for Jimmy Cricket (the nadir of my sketch-writing days) except that I was sweaty and my forearms ached. It gave me time to reflect on our divorce from Steiner education.
I will blog a comprehensive review of not just our Steiner experience but also our schooling rollercoaster soon. Meanwhile, IS has now been home for week and she is a different girl. IS was bored with her lessons (and her teacher), she was listless (bordering on mildly depressed) and she stoically continued at school despite our suggestions that she leave. In retrospective, IS was just waiting for us to make a definitive decision. This past week IS has been livelier, more communicative, done some home-schoolwork with her sister ES and been HAPPIER.
And today IS is 10 years old. Ohh, to be 10 again – playing football with friends in Holland Park, regularly peering down Madame’s cleavage in French and listening to Bobby Vee, Brenda Lee and Adam Faith on Radio Luxembourg under the covers with the lights out. Happy Birthday, IS!
I spent one weekend morning mowing and strimming the lawns and surrounds: it’s not dissimilar in mind-numbing ability to painting walls, jogging or writing a sketch for Jimmy Cricket (the nadir of my sketch-writing days) except that I was sweaty and my forearms ached. It gave me time to reflect on our divorce from Steiner education.
I will blog a comprehensive review of not just our Steiner experience but also our schooling rollercoaster soon. Meanwhile, IS has now been home for week and she is a different girl. IS was bored with her lessons (and her teacher), she was listless (bordering on mildly depressed) and she stoically continued at school despite our suggestions that she leave. In retrospective, IS was just waiting for us to make a definitive decision. This past week IS has been livelier, more communicative, done some home-schoolwork with her sister ES and been HAPPIER.
And today IS is 10 years old. Ohh, to be 10 again – playing football with friends in Holland Park, regularly peering down Madame’s cleavage in French and listening to Bobby Vee, Brenda Lee and Adam Faith on Radio Luxembourg under the covers with the lights out. Happy Birthday, IS!
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Shaking and Moving
Yesterday, after months of mounting difficulties, we shook the Steiner schooling tree and we removed our 2 younger girls, IS and ES, from the school.
Today we move on...though we know not quite where. (Home schooling for the time being)
After a fairly extraordinary 2½ years at this Steiner school we eventually discovered revelatory details of the covert core of the Waldorf teaching system.
With lightened hearts, we are looking forward to the Bank Holiday weekend...and beyond.
Today we move on...though we know not quite where. (Home schooling for the time being)
After a fairly extraordinary 2½ years at this Steiner school we eventually discovered revelatory details of the covert core of the Waldorf teaching system.
With lightened hearts, we are looking forward to the Bank Holiday weekend...and beyond.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Questions are easy....
....answers are damn elusive!
Today was the sort of day when I was....
a) Pleased not to be in London,
b) Pleased to be in Great Bickering,
c) Perplexed at some of the questions that the day threw in my face.....
1. After 6 years why suddenly are there about 3 times more Guardians than usual in Great Bickering's finest newsagent?
2. Can a barn swallow mate with a sand martin?
3. How can a pane in our bedroom window, 15ft above ground, be broken, scattering glass in an arc of about 10 foot inside, yet......there's no sign of any 'projectile' inside the room?
4. Is Steiner schooling run by....gnomes from Saturn, the men from Atlantis or the 3rd Reich?
5. Why I have to write my blog long-hand in PENCIL before typing it?
Today was the sort of day when I was....
a) Pleased not to be in London,
b) Pleased to be in Great Bickering,
c) Perplexed at some of the questions that the day threw in my face.....
1. After 6 years why suddenly are there about 3 times more Guardians than usual in Great Bickering's finest newsagent?
2. Can a barn swallow mate with a sand martin?
3. How can a pane in our bedroom window, 15ft above ground, be broken, scattering glass in an arc of about 10 foot inside, yet......there's no sign of any 'projectile' inside the room?
4. Is Steiner schooling run by....gnomes from Saturn, the men from Atlantis or the 3rd Reich?
5. Why I have to write my blog long-hand in PENCIL before typing it?
Sunday, 29 April 2007
A distracting, musical evening in York
Whilst Mrs Refugee stewed and fumed most of the weekend after receiving a patronising letter from school, the rest of the Refugees perked her up an evening of Italian cuisine, lovely company and fab music.
Back in the elegant 80’s, Mrs R was pally with Mister Loudon Wainwright the Third and they’ve kept in touch since. Last night, we met up with LW and his ex, Suzzy (of The Roches), and his daughter Lucy Wainwright Roche. Good to see LW again but the real delight was meeting Suzzy and being charmed by Lucy – a real pearl.
Back in the elegant 80’s, Mrs R was pally with Mister Loudon Wainwright the Third and they’ve kept in touch since. Last night, we met up with LW and his ex, Suzzy (of The Roches), and his daughter Lucy Wainwright Roche. Good to see LW again but the real delight was meeting Suzzy and being charmed by Lucy – a real pearl.
If you haven’t caught LW3 live I entreat you to sling a few quid his way for a show: his songs are a unique mix of personal, angsty, satirical, bitter, sweet and bitter-sweet (The tour de force ‘Half Fist’ is a stonker). His performance is evocative, witty and enthralling. What we weren’t prepared for was Lucy’s captivating opening show – all we can say is LOOK OUT for the third of the Wainwright offspring.
And Mrs Refugee went home very happy.
Friday, 27 April 2007
A Yorkshire fog
The strangest of experiences this afternoon, but first a prologue....
In my life I have a wife, the gorgeous Mrs R, and 3 girls who shine brightly in our firmament. In our homestead we also have the 4th sister, a rescue hound called Poppy, along with 5 female guinea-pigs and 4 schnickled male guinea-pigs - for all intents now eunuchs - a snake of indeterminate sex....and previously 2 rats, 2 gerbils and a hamster ALL female. Then, there is my mother and 2 sisters. There's something missing in my life.
Now to strangeness. I was due to collect IS from school this afternoon and it so happened that I was asked to collect a further 5 pilgrims for the journey home. I arrived at school and IS got in. 10 minutes later - detention had stalled them - these 5 strapping 13 year-olds threw themselves into the car...and almost turned the car on its side.
Off we went blithely homewards over the North York Moors. I chatted to IS about her day. SILENCE from the seats behind. Not being one to ignore the flower of Yorkshire youth I made the odd enquiry of a lad or two. Suddenly, I began to detect an odour. It was a recognisable odour but I couldn't quite place it. Another 5 more minutes and I began to feel myself suffocating along with the stolid silence behind.
AT LAST I cracked it - the overpowering fug of burgeoning, teenage testosterone, missing from my life for many years. A suffocating cloud enveloping my head and senses. I stopped the car and let 2 lads out. Fresh Yorkshire air - clear and cool.
Next time I do a similar journey I might need an oxygen tank!
In my life I have a wife, the gorgeous Mrs R, and 3 girls who shine brightly in our firmament. In our homestead we also have the 4th sister, a rescue hound called Poppy, along with 5 female guinea-pigs and 4 schnickled male guinea-pigs - for all intents now eunuchs - a snake of indeterminate sex....and previously 2 rats, 2 gerbils and a hamster ALL female. Then, there is my mother and 2 sisters. There's something missing in my life.
Now to strangeness. I was due to collect IS from school this afternoon and it so happened that I was asked to collect a further 5 pilgrims for the journey home. I arrived at school and IS got in. 10 minutes later - detention had stalled them - these 5 strapping 13 year-olds threw themselves into the car...and almost turned the car on its side.
Off we went blithely homewards over the North York Moors. I chatted to IS about her day. SILENCE from the seats behind. Not being one to ignore the flower of Yorkshire youth I made the odd enquiry of a lad or two. Suddenly, I began to detect an odour. It was a recognisable odour but I couldn't quite place it. Another 5 more minutes and I began to feel myself suffocating along with the stolid silence behind.
AT LAST I cracked it - the overpowering fug of burgeoning, teenage testosterone, missing from my life for many years. A suffocating cloud enveloping my head and senses. I stopped the car and let 2 lads out. Fresh Yorkshire air - clear and cool.
Next time I do a similar journey I might need an oxygen tank!
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
Sky’s the very limit
After lunch....(of course, it’s ‘dinner’ in Yorkshire)...the phone rings....
Fiona (VERY nice Scots voice): Hello, is that Mr Refugee?
LR: Yes.
Fiona: Hello, I’m Fiona from Sky television and I just wanted to ask you-
LR: I cancelled my sub a couple of years ago and you keep phoning me every few months
Fiona: Why was that?
LR: ‘Cos Rupert Murdoch’s a scumbag.
Fiona: (taken aback) err-hum…James Murdoch is now in charge-
LR: He’s a scumbag too..
Fiona: (STIFLING BARBED RESPONSE) Can I just-
LR: And the whole family…
Fiona: Mr R-
LR: ...have far too much power and money. So, Fiona, you were about to ask me.
Fiona: I don’t think so. (PHONE DOWN)
Fiona (VERY nice Scots voice): Hello, is that Mr Refugee?
LR: Yes.
Fiona: Hello, I’m Fiona from Sky television and I just wanted to ask you-
LR: I cancelled my sub a couple of years ago and you keep phoning me every few months
Fiona: Why was that?
LR: ‘Cos Rupert Murdoch’s a scumbag.
Fiona: (taken aback) err-hum…James Murdoch is now in charge-
LR: He’s a scumbag too..
Fiona: (STIFLING BARBED RESPONSE) Can I just-
LR: And the whole family…
Fiona: Mr R-
LR: ...have far too much power and money. So, Fiona, you were about to ask me.
Fiona: I don’t think so. (PHONE DOWN)
A very early start
I must be dreaming……there’s laughter and chatter, which I can’t decipher – it’s me as a child, happy, maybe I’m rolling over and over down a hill……then a thump from above and the bed’s creaking through the ceiling and giggling and chatter. The clock reads 3.10a.m. I stumble upstairs and find IS (from her bedroom below) and ES under the duvet, bouncing on the bed and giggling. I ask what’s going on? No reply. Go to sleep!
Back to bed, back to zzzzzzz….. Double giggles, chatter and creaking beds again. The clock reads 3.45a.m. I haul myself upstairs. What is going on with you two? No reply. It’s school tomorrow (in fact, today). Go to sleep!!
Back to bed, back to zzz….. The giggle-in surfaces once again. The clock reads 4.20a.m. I storm upstairs. I’ve had it with you two, mum’s really annoyed…etc…etc…etc… GO TO SLEEP!!!
Back to bed. I sleep another half an hour. What now? I can’t sleep – the birds are singing so bloody loud! I get up and my quiet hour is now 2 hours.
Later, I ask IS why she was awake from 3. “Dunno”, giggling.
I ask ES why she was awake from 3. “Dunno”, with a smile.
“Well, it won’t happen again...WILL IT?!”
Back to bed, back to zzzzzzz….. Double giggles, chatter and creaking beds again. The clock reads 3.45a.m. I haul myself upstairs. What is going on with you two? No reply. It’s school tomorrow (in fact, today). Go to sleep!!
Back to bed, back to zzz….. The giggle-in surfaces once again. The clock reads 4.20a.m. I storm upstairs. I’ve had it with you two, mum’s really annoyed…etc…etc…etc… GO TO SLEEP!!!
Back to bed. I sleep another half an hour. What now? I can’t sleep – the birds are singing so bloody loud! I get up and my quiet hour is now 2 hours.
Later, I ask IS why she was awake from 3. “Dunno”, giggling.
I ask ES why she was awake from 3. “Dunno”, with a smile.
“Well, it won’t happen again...WILL IT?!”
Tuesday, 24 April 2007
'ebaygum'...and a teardrop slowly trickles down
I’ve had a weekend of…..Bubble wrap, parcel tape, tippex, marker pen, scotch tape, brown paper, Handle With Care tape, Customs Declarations and Air Mail stickers – yes, I’ve been ebaying. This was a weekend of ebaying with a certain finality. After 28 years I sold ALL my photographic equipment. Back in 1979, fFor want of something else to pursue, and as Phil Collins said to me, "well, it keeps you off the streets", I started photographing music concerts. I finished 4 years later when I discovered something I DID want to pursue, I started writing.
I had the most beautiful camera (I think) ever made. A Nikon F2A, black body with a bevy of precision Nikon AI lenses – holding the camera you could be seduced by the weight, the balance and the smooth, precise action of the shutter. The F2A was pure scientific artistry!
I’ve started to recall some of the most memorable concerts I snapped……
CHRIS REA – my first at The Venue, Victoria (Branson’s short-lived venture into music venues). He leapt off stage and started jumping onto tables playing a mean guitar.
CHARLIE DORE – again at the Venue, very hot. And the lovely Charlie was blistering.
JUDIE TZUKE – Dominion Tottenham Court Road. I arrived and got my camera ready, except…that I could not get the cover off the camera body. Nothing would budge the cover - I had jammed it on at the previous gig. .I just stood in the pit and watched a great show…feeling a complete twat. Next week, I went out and bought a second camera body.
THIRD WORLD – Hammersmith Odeon, a thunderous performance and a sweeeet lingering atmosphere.
THE TOURISTS (later The Eurythmics) – Hammersmith Odeon. The best singers/musicians ‘give’ photographers great shots. Annie Lennox KEPT giving me terrific shots. I was the ONLY photographer that night – remember this was 1980 and they were not big then – and as I walked out the Stage Door, Annie came up to me and asked if I wanted to join them upstairs. Naively, I replied that I had to get the rolls to Melody Maker asap. What kind of fool was I? I TURNED DOWN ANNIE LENNOX!!!
AL STEWART – Hammersmith Odeon. Not the greatest Stewart fan but a man’s gotta earn a crust. I was snapping away when I realised that the bassist was throwing me glances. 2 or 3 more snaps and I realised that it was an old schoolfriend, Robin Lamble, brother of Fairport drummer, Martin.
JOHN SEBASTIAN – Dominion. Leader of the much-lamented Lovin’ Spoonful played a solo gig of wit and great songs. Wonderful!
SQUEEZE – Rainbow, Finsbury Park. Rock’n’roll at its best.
JOHN MARTYN - Apollo, Victoria. Crap venue…..in the pantheon of unique Brit singer-songwriter-performers. A guitarist of exquisite beauty and peerless invention. Phil Collins was on drums and invited me for a beer.
MARIANNE FAITHFULL – Dominion. In front of an adoring audience a rare and mesmerising performance. She 'gave' me some wonderful shots.
RICHARD AND LINDA THOMPSON – Dominion. The acrimonious last few months of their musical partnership. Thompson is Britain’s finest axeman – and that includes you too, EC.
FAIRPORT CONVENTION - Half Moon, Putney. I was the only photographer at the release of Patrick Humphries' biog of FC. After the obligatory glad-handing and self-congratulation, Fairport played for the invited audience - the ONLY performance with Linda Thompson as lead singer. A boozy lunchtime time was had by all.
Not many of my crummy hand-printed photos left but here are 3………
I had the most beautiful camera (I think) ever made. A Nikon F2A, black body with a bevy of precision Nikon AI lenses – holding the camera you could be seduced by the weight, the balance and the smooth, precise action of the shutter. The F2A was pure scientific artistry!
I’ve started to recall some of the most memorable concerts I snapped……
CHRIS REA – my first at The Venue, Victoria (Branson’s short-lived venture into music venues). He leapt off stage and started jumping onto tables playing a mean guitar.
CHARLIE DORE – again at the Venue, very hot. And the lovely Charlie was blistering.
JUDIE TZUKE – Dominion Tottenham Court Road. I arrived and got my camera ready, except…that I could not get the cover off the camera body. Nothing would budge the cover - I had jammed it on at the previous gig. .I just stood in the pit and watched a great show…feeling a complete twat. Next week, I went out and bought a second camera body.
THIRD WORLD – Hammersmith Odeon, a thunderous performance and a sweeeet lingering atmosphere.
THE TOURISTS (later The Eurythmics) – Hammersmith Odeon. The best singers/musicians ‘give’ photographers great shots. Annie Lennox KEPT giving me terrific shots. I was the ONLY photographer that night – remember this was 1980 and they were not big then – and as I walked out the Stage Door, Annie came up to me and asked if I wanted to join them upstairs. Naively, I replied that I had to get the rolls to Melody Maker asap. What kind of fool was I? I TURNED DOWN ANNIE LENNOX!!!
AL STEWART – Hammersmith Odeon. Not the greatest Stewart fan but a man’s gotta earn a crust. I was snapping away when I realised that the bassist was throwing me glances. 2 or 3 more snaps and I realised that it was an old schoolfriend, Robin Lamble, brother of Fairport drummer, Martin.
JOHN SEBASTIAN – Dominion. Leader of the much-lamented Lovin’ Spoonful played a solo gig of wit and great songs. Wonderful!
SQUEEZE – Rainbow, Finsbury Park. Rock’n’roll at its best.
JOHN MARTYN - Apollo, Victoria. Crap venue…..in the pantheon of unique Brit singer-songwriter-performers. A guitarist of exquisite beauty and peerless invention. Phil Collins was on drums and invited me for a beer.
MARIANNE FAITHFULL – Dominion. In front of an adoring audience a rare and mesmerising performance. She 'gave' me some wonderful shots.
RICHARD AND LINDA THOMPSON – Dominion. The acrimonious last few months of their musical partnership. Thompson is Britain’s finest axeman – and that includes you too, EC.
FAIRPORT CONVENTION - Half Moon, Putney. I was the only photographer at the release of Patrick Humphries' biog of FC. After the obligatory glad-handing and self-congratulation, Fairport played for the invited audience - the ONLY performance with Linda Thompson as lead singer. A boozy lunchtime time was had by all.
Not many of my crummy hand-printed photos left but here are 3………
....perhaps I could ebay these now. Who'll start me at a tenner....okay then, I'll take a fiver....look, final offer - 3 quid and I'll sign the lot!
Monday, 23 April 2007
An ASBO for the swallows
Back to the school run today – with a vengeance. Do I hate the internal combustion engine? YES! When the oil has been sucked from this whacky planet and cars and planes rust en masse all will be….quiet! But I transgress…..
I returned from the first school run, got the valet to park the auto and….got buzzed by a large swallow. I turned to see it zoom through the open barn window when a following swallow buzzed 2 foot overhead. Another 3 swallows were swooping and swerving over the garden as the first swallow exited the barn again to join the frolics. I spent the next 20 minutes, when I should have been working, transfixed like a tennis spectator at a 50-stroke rally watching the antics of our swallow compliment.
One week after the first swallow I can now report the state of swallowness at Great Bickering Farm…..2 swallows in the shed, 2 swallows in the garage and 5 swallows in the barn – now, my imaginative feeling is that there is one very lucky swallow in the barn.
I think I’m also pretty close to cracking what goes down in the first week of the swallows returning. The scout swallow arrives to check out the old homestead, kicks out the noisy pigeon neighbours and then goes and gets some fresh straw and mud for a comfortable new bed. Then, it’s a couple of raucous days, without the impending missus, buzzing around town, chatting up a few different birds and gorging on some very tasty morsels.
(There are 2 swallows who are so aerially frisky with the most contorted courtship that I fear for their safety)
When the others arrive they all put on a series of aerial pyrotechnics, obviously for the sake of us poor disadvantaged mortals, and after dark it’s constant carousing and rampant nookey. I’m not sure I could get 100 foot in the air after a heavy night in a dark barn but these energetic blighters can. Some neighbours we have here.
I returned from the first school run, got the valet to park the auto and….got buzzed by a large swallow. I turned to see it zoom through the open barn window when a following swallow buzzed 2 foot overhead. Another 3 swallows were swooping and swerving over the garden as the first swallow exited the barn again to join the frolics. I spent the next 20 minutes, when I should have been working, transfixed like a tennis spectator at a 50-stroke rally watching the antics of our swallow compliment.
One week after the first swallow I can now report the state of swallowness at Great Bickering Farm…..2 swallows in the shed, 2 swallows in the garage and 5 swallows in the barn – now, my imaginative feeling is that there is one very lucky swallow in the barn.
I think I’m also pretty close to cracking what goes down in the first week of the swallows returning. The scout swallow arrives to check out the old homestead, kicks out the noisy pigeon neighbours and then goes and gets some fresh straw and mud for a comfortable new bed. Then, it’s a couple of raucous days, without the impending missus, buzzing around town, chatting up a few different birds and gorging on some very tasty morsels.
(There are 2 swallows who are so aerially frisky with the most contorted courtship that I fear for their safety)
When the others arrive they all put on a series of aerial pyrotechnics, obviously for the sake of us poor disadvantaged mortals, and after dark it’s constant carousing and rampant nookey. I’m not sure I could get 100 foot in the air after a heavy night in a dark barn but these energetic blighters can. Some neighbours we have here.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Answer: Bush and Blair
Question: Who will ascend to the Kingdom of Heaven after the Iraq ‘war’ ends?
I was intending to break from my musings on the North-South divide and write a piece on anti-war songs but I was so appalled at the bloodbath in Iraq yesterday that I remain amazed at how quickly Iraq has fallen apart.
Recently, the UN produced a report stating that Bush and Cheney’s bright shining lie will have cost them $3trillion……so far it has cost us (the UK) £5+billion – contrast that with the NHS deficit of £500+million – but the mind-numbing figures are 2 million Iraqis that have fled their country, the 2 million who are displaced and the obscene (holocaust?) number of 600,000+ Iraqis who have died, let alone those maimed and traumatised.
Very soon, the neo-conservative Blair will depart and we’ll have no more of the messianic, money-grubbing zealot and we’ll welcome, errm….Gordie, his pathologically sulking, witless paymaster and fellow war criminal.
And now for a musical interlude. Anti-war protest songs have played a long and honourable part for centuries. As a teenager, I recall the scores of excellent and potent songs that accompanied those many anti-Vietnam war rallies.
Of all the Iraq anti-war songs – Neil Young, Billy Bragg, REM, Lenny Kravitz – the 2 clips that I’ve posted are the best......
Randy Newman is the finest writer of songs the past 45 years – arguably with Dylan.
I used to knock around with members of Fairport Convention in the late 60’s in North London and Richard Thompson, even at the age of 17-18, was a wizard guitarist. Richard tended to have a socio-political edge to many of his songs but ‘Dad’s gonna kill me’ is a stunning piece of writing and a wonderful song.
I was intending to break from my musings on the North-South divide and write a piece on anti-war songs but I was so appalled at the bloodbath in Iraq yesterday that I remain amazed at how quickly Iraq has fallen apart.
Recently, the UN produced a report stating that Bush and Cheney’s bright shining lie will have cost them $3trillion……so far it has cost us (the UK) £5+billion – contrast that with the NHS deficit of £500+million – but the mind-numbing figures are 2 million Iraqis that have fled their country, the 2 million who are displaced and the obscene (holocaust?) number of 600,000+ Iraqis who have died, let alone those maimed and traumatised.
Very soon, the neo-conservative Blair will depart and we’ll have no more of the messianic, money-grubbing zealot and we’ll welcome, errm….Gordie, his pathologically sulking, witless paymaster and fellow war criminal.
And now for a musical interlude. Anti-war protest songs have played a long and honourable part for centuries. As a teenager, I recall the scores of excellent and potent songs that accompanied those many anti-Vietnam war rallies.
Of all the Iraq anti-war songs – Neil Young, Billy Bragg, REM, Lenny Kravitz – the 2 clips that I’ve posted are the best......
Randy Newman is the finest writer of songs the past 45 years – arguably with Dylan.
I used to knock around with members of Fairport Convention in the late 60’s in North London and Richard Thompson, even at the age of 17-18, was a wizard guitarist. Richard tended to have a socio-political edge to many of his songs but ‘Dad’s gonna kill me’ is a stunning piece of writing and a wonderful song.
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