Commissioned to do esoteric things with precious metals and stones, Craig has made a name in creating stylised bodily adornment. But I have to take issue with his claim that it's no different from plumbing or chimney lining.
I mean, granted we all have to make a living, the termite for instance does pretty well out of chewing through wood, but has little time for aesthetics. It's only in the last 100,000 years that anyone got seriously into jewellery. Gorillas, chimps and their ilk still haven't shown any signs of following this trail of creative self-expression out of the Stone Age blazed by Modern Humans.
Regarding the difference with chimney work and what it means to me: basically I climb up to the top of a building, hang off the chimney pot, beat my chest with my fists then someone gives me a big bunch of bananas.
30th January. Extreme Chiropracty II
Clocked in at the bone crunchers for a follow up, although things are pretty much normal backwise now. So we'll never know, unless there was a clone with the same problem, if it would have got better by itself.
Anyway I'd managed to mix up quarter-to and a quarter-past so I had a while to sit and read National Geographic whilst other clients were twisted about and sat on. I was struck by a picture of a Trainee Buddhist monk hanging upside down from a branch which recalled a dream from last night.
I was being shown around the World's Leading Treatment Centre for people who thought they were too short. The place had a lot of new buildings and was awash with funding as there was apparently no shortage of people who desired to be taller.
This was a bit strange as the centre made no secret of the fact that the treatment, in all cases, consisted of hanging upside down for long periods with a lot of weights attached. I was introduced to the patron of the centre who turned out to be Heather Mills-McCartney...
Anyway I'd managed to mix up quarter-to and a quarter-past so I had a while to sit and read National Geographic whilst other clients were twisted about and sat on. I was struck by a picture of a Trainee Buddhist monk hanging upside down from a branch which recalled a dream from last night.
I was being shown around the World's Leading Treatment Centre for people who thought they were too short. The place had a lot of new buildings and was awash with funding as there was apparently no shortage of people who desired to be taller.
This was a bit strange as the centre made no secret of the fact that the treatment, in all cases, consisted of hanging upside down for long periods with a lot of weights attached. I was introduced to the patron of the centre who turned out to be Heather Mills-McCartney...
29th January. Lifestyle No.324(b)
Mr T's rented cottage consists of a 16 track digital recording studio with kitchen attached and also integral workshop space for two motorcycles. During recording sessions various band members are spread around the rest of the house to minimise overspill of sound.
Apart from an electric guitar, a 12 string acoustic and a bass, each on it's own individual wall bracket, furnishing throughout is spartan.
It's not really a modus vivendi that many women would warm to, borne out by Mr T's current marital status. However over and above my capacity as itinerant chimney engineer, I am able to add a new category to the index of 'The Observers Book of Current Lifestyles' (UK Edition).
Apart from an electric guitar, a 12 string acoustic and a bass, each on it's own individual wall bracket, furnishing throughout is spartan.
It's not really a modus vivendi that many women would warm to, borne out by Mr T's current marital status. However over and above my capacity as itinerant chimney engineer, I am able to add a new category to the index of 'The Observers Book of Current Lifestyles' (UK Edition).
28th January. Ninety-Two.
Life is so short, or is it? Mother was 92 today. Born in 1915, this means that Grandfather must have seen some action on the home front shortly before hostilities began in France.
It's like the other day, opposite the G's front door stands the village war memorial and it says at the bottom of the list of the dead ..."Who gave their life for King and Country"
It seems such an abstract concept for dying young.
It's like the other day, opposite the G's front door stands the village war memorial and it says at the bottom of the list of the dead ..."Who gave their life for King and Country"
It seems such an abstract concept for dying young.
27th January. Burns Night Bash.
We have been invited as a great priviledge into the bosom of a well known extended family to eat a Haggis. For those not familiar with Robert Burns, the National Bard's birthday is celebrated with a distinctly Scottish flavour. It is indeed impossible to conceive of a Burns Supper without a haggis (or alcohol). The constituents of this delicacy are usual glossed over but suffice to say that originally it was a meal more associated with the common man than say the landed gentry. Haggis is not advised to form any part of a calorie-controlled diet, a fact that Isabelle was willing to quietly forget in order to enjoy the full Burns experience.
The Haggis is 'addressed' with the requisite poem from Rabbie's collected works followed by, in this case an informal selection of written works and unnacompanied songs, together with some Highland dancing performed by the fresher faced family members.
As the evening drew on it seemed possible that I might get away without having to take to the makeshift stage, but no...
The only written work within easy recall was something penned as a younger person whilst plumbing hitherto unexplored depths of the human character during the short but stormy years of marriage to 'Juniors' mother. A period when a particularly violent clash of personalities was evidenced...
The Haggis is 'addressed' with the requisite poem from Rabbie's collected works followed by, in this case an informal selection of written works and unnacompanied songs, together with some Highland dancing performed by the fresher faced family members.
As the evening drew on it seemed possible that I might get away without having to take to the makeshift stage, but no...
The only written work within easy recall was something penned as a younger person whilst plumbing hitherto unexplored depths of the human character during the short but stormy years of marriage to 'Juniors' mother. A period when a particularly violent clash of personalities was evidenced...
26th January. A Dream Crashes.
I'm standing looking at a building in some High Street, apparently we own all the flats in this building. On the ground floor there is an old fashioned garage with doors that fold back leaving it open to the street. I said I don't think we own that garage do we?
We take a look around, the place is a hive of activity with mechanics everywhere, we go down a staircase to a cavernous area underneath, below the street level.
I look up and the supporting structure is made of massive concrete beams such as is used in earthquake-proof buildings. Despite this, the beams are just balanced on top of each other and worse the whole thing is swaying about with whatever is going on above in the garage.
I'm just about to say lets get out of here! when the entire structure collapses, I escape injury but Isabelle is flattened by the concrete. In fact flattened so completely that when I pick her up she looks like a sticker for Bob Heath Visors such as was often stuck on the side of motorcycle helmets to advertise one's endorsement of the same.
I lay her down, still flat, but then she gradually fills up again with some kind of liquid, back to original size, and none the worse for it...
We take a look around, the place is a hive of activity with mechanics everywhere, we go down a staircase to a cavernous area underneath, below the street level.
I look up and the supporting structure is made of massive concrete beams such as is used in earthquake-proof buildings. Despite this, the beams are just balanced on top of each other and worse the whole thing is swaying about with whatever is going on above in the garage.
I'm just about to say lets get out of here! when the entire structure collapses, I escape injury but Isabelle is flattened by the concrete. In fact flattened so completely that when I pick her up she looks like a sticker for Bob Heath Visors such as was often stuck on the side of motorcycle helmets to advertise one's endorsement of the same.
I lay her down, still flat, but then she gradually fills up again with some kind of liquid, back to original size, and none the worse for it...
25th January. Extreme Chiropracty
Made an appointment with the bone cruncher although there are no objective controlled trials with definitive conclusions for or against chiropractic. What can there be to lose apart from the consultation fee?
I was convinced that there was something wrong with the bits that join my arms on, I intimated to the Main Man. In a breezy style typical of our Antipodean cousins his inspection of the thoracic vertebra revealed that T1 and T2 were stuck together, not to mention tension in the old Trapezius muscle of the right shoulder.
"Let's get to work!" he said, (this is where the crunching bit inevitably comes in). So he gets me in something of a Half Nelson and assures me that it's "completely safe" which I do believe but it's not that easy to "just relax", not in this situation.
Just when I knew the pull and twist was coming, together with the crunch, I was stuck with a particular image in my mind; it was something Disco Dave had related about the first time he tried to wring the neck of a chicken.
Having followed the instructions, i.e. pull and twist, he put the bird down, knowing that they can continue to function after the neck is broken. The thing was the chicken stood there blinking and didn't look in the least bit dead."Obviously didn't pull hard enough", he thought. The second attempt saw the head completely wrenched free from the body...
I was convinced that there was something wrong with the bits that join my arms on, I intimated to the Main Man. In a breezy style typical of our Antipodean cousins his inspection of the thoracic vertebra revealed that T1 and T2 were stuck together, not to mention tension in the old Trapezius muscle of the right shoulder.
"Let's get to work!" he said, (this is where the crunching bit inevitably comes in). So he gets me in something of a Half Nelson and assures me that it's "completely safe" which I do believe but it's not that easy to "just relax", not in this situation.
Just when I knew the pull and twist was coming, together with the crunch, I was stuck with a particular image in my mind; it was something Disco Dave had related about the first time he tried to wring the neck of a chicken.
Having followed the instructions, i.e. pull and twist, he put the bird down, knowing that they can continue to function after the neck is broken. The thing was the chicken stood there blinking and didn't look in the least bit dead."Obviously didn't pull hard enough", he thought. The second attempt saw the head completely wrenched free from the body...
24th January. 'Deep Heat' Roadtest.
Over the last few days the level of suffering in Chimney World has been increased slightly above the norm for mid-January.
This morning, despite my protests, Isabelle insisted on slapping one of those 'Deep Heat' stick-on patches on my back as a parting gift, claiming that otherwise they'd only be wasted after her buying them. The result was not just an aching shoulder but a hot aching shoulder.
The benefits of modern medecine improve the quality of our lives in so many different ways.
This morning, despite my protests, Isabelle insisted on slapping one of those 'Deep Heat' stick-on patches on my back as a parting gift, claiming that otherwise they'd only be wasted after her buying them. The result was not just an aching shoulder but a hot aching shoulder.
The benefits of modern medecine improve the quality of our lives in so many different ways.
23rd January. How We Evolved A Big Brain.
How come we appreciate beauty? All this beauty thing is just a by-product of having a big brain. The reason for this heavyweight grey matter can be put down to the evolution of language.
As a former virgin, I can easily vouch for the difficulty posed by working up, or in point of fact, not working up the courage to speak to 'beautiful' girls. Basically, the better the chat up line, the more chance there is of a snog, or ultimately a bit of 'How's your father?' and so on and so on, over the millenia... "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?", etc...
To make it easier, a hypothetical example:
"Corr! she's certainly a looker (i.e. beautiful), watch me lads as I chat her up."
"Pah! you've no chance!"
"Hallo luv, do you come here often?"
(Scornful laughter) ..."Get lost!"
And there we have it all, in a nutshell.
As a former virgin, I can easily vouch for the difficulty posed by working up, or in point of fact, not working up the courage to speak to 'beautiful' girls. Basically, the better the chat up line, the more chance there is of a snog, or ultimately a bit of 'How's your father?' and so on and so on, over the millenia... "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?", etc...
To make it easier, a hypothetical example:
"Corr! she's certainly a looker (i.e. beautiful), watch me lads as I chat her up."
"Pah! you've no chance!"
"Hallo luv, do you come here often?"
(Scornful laughter) ..."Get lost!"
And there we have it all, in a nutshell.
22nd January. Triumph of The Uterus.
The bookshelves at the G's have a wide ranging selection of travel guides. Well thumbed paperbacks, The Rough Guide to West Africa, ditto Central America, ditto Mexico, ditto Malaysia, Wild Flowers of somewhere... was it Corsica? India, Turkey, City Guide to Brisbane...
Now they've got kids. One pre-school who keeps calling "Mummy" while the hoover's going upstairs, the other started at primary and a bit more intransigent.
The two charts on the fridge have rows for things like 'Not being rude', 'Keeping my shit together' or words to that effect. A points system leads to various rewards to work for, the eldest seems to have further to go before receiving a Kinder egg.
I wonder if the G's got bored with seeing the World? or maybe they'd seen it all.
Now they've got kids. One pre-school who keeps calling "Mummy" while the hoover's going upstairs, the other started at primary and a bit more intransigent.
The two charts on the fridge have rows for things like 'Not being rude', 'Keeping my shit together' or words to that effect. A points system leads to various rewards to work for, the eldest seems to have further to go before receiving a Kinder egg.
I wonder if the G's got bored with seeing the World? or maybe they'd seen it all.
21st January. Dropping Like Flies.
The perennial mystery of where flies go in the winter was cleared up this afternoon. A great many of them where asleep underneath the slates of the tile salesmans steading conversion.
Unlucky for those that had bedded down right where the new chimney had to come through the roof. These individuals were in no fit state for a reveille so early in the season as they tumbled down the roof in the numbing wind. Their final resting place involved a very short swim in the ice and meltwater lying in the gutters, such is the transitory and fragile nature of an insect's life.
Well, Life full stop.
Unlucky for those that had bedded down right where the new chimney had to come through the roof. These individuals were in no fit state for a reveille so early in the season as they tumbled down the roof in the numbing wind. Their final resting place involved a very short swim in the ice and meltwater lying in the gutters, such is the transitory and fragile nature of an insect's life.
Well, Life full stop.
20th January. Property Enigma.
Isabelle had it in mind to look at yet another flat in another high street. The allotted time for the viewing arrived whilst I was still munching through a cheese and ham toastie in the local cafe. "I'll catch you up" I proffered.
A few minutes later and we were both hanging around outside Flat A.
"Where's the Estate Agent then?"
"Maybe they're in the flat"
The knock was answered by a young couple from the Subcontinent of India who appeared perplexed to learn that their flat was for sale.
Despite being on the market several weeks viewers must have been pretty thin on the ground or there must be a typo.
A few minutes later and we were both hanging around outside Flat A.
"Where's the Estate Agent then?"
"Maybe they're in the flat"
The knock was answered by a young couple from the Subcontinent of India who appeared perplexed to learn that their flat was for sale.
Despite being on the market several weeks viewers must have been pretty thin on the ground or there must be a typo.
19th January. Not Point-less.
I wouldn't say I'd actually lost sleep over the prospect of todays work placement but the idea of the railings, each with it's own pointed fleur-de-lys, arranged like daggers at the foot of the ladders had been playing on my mind.
Having narrowly missed the windscreen of the local bus whilst swinging the ladders off the roof rack the next task was to nervously lash them to the row of iron spikes. This was in case they fell down the ten foot drop between the railings and the basement of the Gs' house. Then the roof ladder itself proved to be somewhat water-logged making it a slightly heavier proposition...
In the event of impalement I'm sure any passing child of that age when every question begins "Why..?" would be sure to ask "Mummy, why is that man impaled on those railings?"
"Because he failed in his duty to complete a full Health and Safety risk assessment, darling."
"Yes but why...?"
"Why......Mummy?"
Having narrowly missed the windscreen of the local bus whilst swinging the ladders off the roof rack the next task was to nervously lash them to the row of iron spikes. This was in case they fell down the ten foot drop between the railings and the basement of the Gs' house. Then the roof ladder itself proved to be somewhat water-logged making it a slightly heavier proposition...
In the event of impalement I'm sure any passing child of that age when every question begins "Why..?" would be sure to ask "Mummy, why is that man impaled on those railings?"
"Because he failed in his duty to complete a full Health and Safety risk assessment, darling."
"Yes but why...?"
"Why......Mummy?"
18th January. Coq Au Styrofoam.
Even Hettie the hypothermic hen was enthusiastic about the snow that started falling this morning. Chickens seem to show a remarkable affinity for any white material irrespective of its chemical composition.
Recently after the delivery of some or other new home exercise machine and with the wheelie bin already at capacity there were several large pieces of the packaging outside. At first light each morning there was the sound of hens pecking at polystyrene. Assuming the consumption of white material such as emulsion paint, tesco hygiene cat litter, lime wash, and now snowflakes has some basis in the production of eggshells, the polystyrene would surely produce a very lightweight egg?
Recently after the delivery of some or other new home exercise machine and with the wheelie bin already at capacity there were several large pieces of the packaging outside. At first light each morning there was the sound of hens pecking at polystyrene. Assuming the consumption of white material such as emulsion paint, tesco hygiene cat litter, lime wash, and now snowflakes has some basis in the production of eggshells, the polystyrene would surely produce a very lightweight egg?
17th January. Snow at Mains of Chaffinchton.
The wind whistled through the windows of the tile-salesmans' still chimneyless steading conversion. I stared out over the snow covered decking towards the heather of the hills as a lone buzzard circled amongst the intermittent flurries... Still it does actually look like a typical January day for a change, up here anyway.
Once I'd scraped the worst of the snow off the roof any resolve to "just get on with it" had faded with the prospect of anything to do with handling slates. That's how I came to be inside looking out with a cup of coffee, 'seeing what the weather's going to do'.
My mind wandered to Joe Taskers' account of winter on the north face of the Eiger as a sort of yardstick of triumph over physical discomfort. Cutting a hole in the roof today wouldn't be that bad, in the grand scheme of things. However the alternative of driving back home and taking the starter motor off the Daihatsu seemed almost like a luxury day out at an exclusive health spa, in comparison...
Once I'd scraped the worst of the snow off the roof any resolve to "just get on with it" had faded with the prospect of anything to do with handling slates. That's how I came to be inside looking out with a cup of coffee, 'seeing what the weather's going to do'.
My mind wandered to Joe Taskers' account of winter on the north face of the Eiger as a sort of yardstick of triumph over physical discomfort. Cutting a hole in the roof today wouldn't be that bad, in the grand scheme of things. However the alternative of driving back home and taking the starter motor off the Daihatsu seemed almost like a luxury day out at an exclusive health spa, in comparison...
16th January. A Calm Day on a Roof.
Hardly a breath of wind today and -1 degrees C. showing on the funk-wetterstation this morning, whatever funk means?
Once reseated on the Prize Charolais-Herds' roof I was able to take in the open vista; clear across the flooded farmland to the Little Chef (now in receivership), the feint swish of the traffic carried on the still air together with the sound of swans and migratory geese. Do these geese really need to bother coming here now it's so mild?
Then I'd forgotten just how much racket store cattle make bellowing and hrrumphing all day, reminiscent of what it used to be like here before they sold up the farm next door and went the 'Amway' route, that lost highway.
As dusk fell the lights of the tractor shone through the veil of dust from the hay being churned out to the cattle and from the wet fields below there was the sound of a shotgun discharging, and a helluva lot of geese noises.
Once reseated on the Prize Charolais-Herds' roof I was able to take in the open vista; clear across the flooded farmland to the Little Chef (now in receivership), the feint swish of the traffic carried on the still air together with the sound of swans and migratory geese. Do these geese really need to bother coming here now it's so mild?
Then I'd forgotten just how much racket store cattle make bellowing and hrrumphing all day, reminiscent of what it used to be like here before they sold up the farm next door and went the 'Amway' route, that lost highway.
As dusk fell the lights of the tractor shone through the veil of dust from the hay being churned out to the cattle and from the wet fields below there was the sound of a shotgun discharging, and a helluva lot of geese noises.
15th January. They Call it Stormy Monday.
I didn't even bother with the Tile salesmans chimney today due to the prevailing weather conditions up there at Chaffinch City the rather exposed location of his steading conversion. However the wind strength out at Mr & Mrs Prize Charolois -Herd also turned out to be far enough up the Beaufort Scale to be rattling the slates on the roof of the farmhouse, as well as the glass in the living room windows.
Priorities here put private education and prize winning bulls way above property maintenance. When I slid open one of the sash windows to put the extension lead out the wind almost took the glass with it.
Priorities here put private education and prize winning bulls way above property maintenance. When I slid open one of the sash windows to put the extension lead out the wind almost took the glass with it.
14th January. Mauled by Laura - Another Day Wasted.
"Brrrr brrrr, brrrr brrrr"
"Hallo, I'm outside the flat now but it's raining..."
"Didn't you get my message?"
"No"
"Well we had to get a slater on an emergency call-out to look at the roof, a reputable tradesman. The leak was so bad in the bedroom all my clothes are ruined, look, I'm handing you over to my boyfriend to tell you what the slater said..."
"Hallo, will I tell you what exactly his report was...?"
"If you like."
"He said it was a f***ing shambles, slates stuck there with silicon rubber and some missing completely."
"Well..errr.. yes, your side is the worst but you know I'm not the only person that's had a go at the roof over the years. What can you do? the whole thing needs completely re-slating."
"We're not blaming you entirely for Laura's flat becoming unliveable, and I'm not going to charge you for the bed and breakfast..."
"Hallo, I'm outside the flat now but it's raining..."
"Didn't you get my message?"
"No"
"Well we had to get a slater on an emergency call-out to look at the roof, a reputable tradesman. The leak was so bad in the bedroom all my clothes are ruined, look, I'm handing you over to my boyfriend to tell you what the slater said..."
"Hallo, will I tell you what exactly his report was...?"
"If you like."
"He said it was a f***ing shambles, slates stuck there with silicon rubber and some missing completely."
"Well..errr.. yes, your side is the worst but you know I'm not the only person that's had a go at the roof over the years. What can you do? the whole thing needs completely re-slating."
"We're not blaming you entirely for Laura's flat becoming unliveable, and I'm not going to charge you for the bed and breakfast..."
13th January. CSI Columbo.
"I wish I'd watched more re-runs of Columbo", how many people are going to turn around and say that on their deathbed? Eh?
There was that much rain and wind this afternoon I was excused from something outside and found myself watching the outwardly shambolic Peter Falk cleverly piecing the usual plot formula together, some time in about 1972. As always, the finally outwitted villain just happens to be the guy who seemed the most helpful to the Lieutenant earlier on before the 2nd commercial break.
The thing is, can young people today understand Columbo?
Couldn't they trace the suspects movements from his mobile calls?
Why are the interiors so kitsch?
What is a typewriter anyway?
What about satellite imagery, the skys usually clear enough in LA?
What's a Darkroom? and why does it have an orange light?
..."Just one more thing"... couldn't they simply wrap it all up in five minutes with a DNA test?
There was that much rain and wind this afternoon I was excused from something outside and found myself watching the outwardly shambolic Peter Falk cleverly piecing the usual plot formula together, some time in about 1972. As always, the finally outwitted villain just happens to be the guy who seemed the most helpful to the Lieutenant earlier on before the 2nd commercial break.
The thing is, can young people today understand Columbo?
Couldn't they trace the suspects movements from his mobile calls?
Why are the interiors so kitsch?
What is a typewriter anyway?
What about satellite imagery, the skys usually clear enough in LA?
What's a Darkroom? and why does it have an orange light?
..."Just one more thing"... couldn't they simply wrap it all up in five minutes with a DNA test?
12th January. One Blue Hand.
One hassle inevitably led to another, and before the afternoon was over I had the ex-SAS man's toilet in bits.
"Not flushing properly", apparently. After various trips to the plumbing aisles of B&Q for spare parts, nothing fitted together because toilets are a bit like mobile phones; they keep changing the design. The short answer, as for many other sanitary problems is a generous application of silicon rubber.
The experience has left an inedelible mark in the form of one blue hand. This is because the ex-SAS man, rather than availing himself of the loo brush provided, prefers the dropping of the mysterious blue cube into the toilet cistern method of toilet hygiene.
These cubes, once part dissolved, colour the toilet water bright blue and anything else they come into direct contact with.
"Not flushing properly", apparently. After various trips to the plumbing aisles of B&Q for spare parts, nothing fitted together because toilets are a bit like mobile phones; they keep changing the design. The short answer, as for many other sanitary problems is a generous application of silicon rubber.
The experience has left an inedelible mark in the form of one blue hand. This is because the ex-SAS man, rather than availing himself of the loo brush provided, prefers the dropping of the mysterious blue cube into the toilet cistern method of toilet hygiene.
These cubes, once part dissolved, colour the toilet water bright blue and anything else they come into direct contact with.
11th January. Budgie Health Report.
Herbert has been looking somewhat dishevelled of late, just not looking after himself the same. He's let personal grooming slip, trapped as he is in a loveless arranged marriage courtesy of 'Pets at Home'. The vet recommended the ubiquitous universal antibiotic in the drinking water as a wee pick-me-up.
Harriet looks well but has a few movement routines she's fond of going into, it may be early onset Alzhiemers. To be fair she must have heard every anecdote, story, and joke her erstwhile husband is capable of wittering on about...
The trick is to minimise or simply avoid any eye contact.
Harriet looks well but has a few movement routines she's fond of going into, it may be early onset Alzhiemers. To be fair she must have heard every anecdote, story, and joke her erstwhile husband is capable of wittering on about...
The trick is to minimise or simply avoid any eye contact.
10th January. Telephone Conversation with Mrs H.
"Could you cut two inches off the front of the hearth?"
"Not very easily, not now. You're supposed to have 300mm in front of the stove according to the building regulations. If your house burned down the insurance wouldn't pay out."
"Are the slabs stuck to the floor?"
"Yes, with tile cement."
"Well, it's just that they're upside down with the bar code labels showing."
"No, it's the smooth side that faces up."
"I bought them because I liked the rustic effect, I thought the bar code labels were on the back."
"Well they're kind of stuck down now."
" Oh well, I'll just have to cry every time I look at the hearth."
(Jeezuz!)
"Not very easily, not now. You're supposed to have 300mm in front of the stove according to the building regulations. If your house burned down the insurance wouldn't pay out."
"Are the slabs stuck to the floor?"
"Yes, with tile cement."
"Well, it's just that they're upside down with the bar code labels showing."
"No, it's the smooth side that faces up."
"I bought them because I liked the rustic effect, I thought the bar code labels were on the back."
"Well they're kind of stuck down now."
" Oh well, I'll just have to cry every time I look at the hearth."
(Jeezuz!)
9th January. Telephone Survey.
An unusual thing happened today, somebody used a phone box; I hasten to add, to make a phone call, not as a toilet or to give birth in.
I was on the roof of number 25 Post War Crescent when a fairly stooped wife in a head scarf came ambling along over the road. She struggled in the wind with the heavyweight red painted door finally entering the archaic example of telecommunications.
It's likely that she was representative of todays public telephone user.
How thankful the residents of Numbers 24 and 26 must be now that teenagers don't have to spend most of the evening hanging around outside constantly phoning the other box in the village for an essential minute by minute update of what's happening 250 yards away.
Later in the afternoon the survey sample was increased from one to two when an identical woman in a headscarf made another half hour call.
I was on the roof of number 25 Post War Crescent when a fairly stooped wife in a head scarf came ambling along over the road. She struggled in the wind with the heavyweight red painted door finally entering the archaic example of telecommunications.
It's likely that she was representative of todays public telephone user.
How thankful the residents of Numbers 24 and 26 must be now that teenagers don't have to spend most of the evening hanging around outside constantly phoning the other box in the village for an essential minute by minute update of what's happening 250 yards away.
Later in the afternoon the survey sample was increased from one to two when an identical woman in a headscarf made another half hour call.
8th January. A Mega-Tsunami of Brickwork
I ripped off the plasterboard exposing the remains of the fireplace at Mrs Hs' before setting about the surrounding wall with the Kango electric hammer.
A large spider, rudely awakened, made for a gap between the bricks and the laminate flooring. It must have spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell the noise was all about.
The same thought must have crossed the mind of the goldfish in the kitchen and the woman next door, who had the TV turned up especially loud, I noticed, in the afternoon.
A large spider, rudely awakened, made for a gap between the bricks and the laminate flooring. It must have spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell the noise was all about.
The same thought must have crossed the mind of the goldfish in the kitchen and the woman next door, who had the TV turned up especially loud, I noticed, in the afternoon.
7th January. A Load of Rubbish.
Filled up the trailer with half a ton of detritus from the driveway. In the long run it's better if I set a new stern example by being ruthless with clutter. Normally things are put aside for 'the future' to be thrown out two or three years later. By that time they are sufficiently rotted or rusted to be of any conceivable use.
Amongst today's scrap was the remains of the unmotorised treadmill machine which was recently doing double-duty as a perch for robins and hens. It's original capacity to provide cardiovascular exercise had been heavily outweighed by it's unique ability to cause Isabelle a herniated disc between L4 and L5.
Amongst today's scrap was the remains of the unmotorised treadmill machine which was recently doing double-duty as a perch for robins and hens. It's original capacity to provide cardiovascular exercise had been heavily outweighed by it's unique ability to cause Isabelle a herniated disc between L4 and L5.
6th January. Friday Night Fever.
Welcome to illness, courtesy of up north, Aberdeen Pre-Schoolers 1. me 0.
The delirium of the night resulted in tortured dreams of everyone in the world having not just one but several Bank of Scotland Visa cards. The situation was so out of control that the bank was forced to write off the untold millions in personal debt.
The delirium of the night resulted in tortured dreams of everyone in the world having not just one but several Bank of Scotland Visa cards. The situation was so out of control that the bank was forced to write off the untold millions in personal debt.
5th January. Getting To Grips With 2007.
I had to force myself to wish a "Happy New Year" to various individuals that normally populate 'Chimney World'. Naturally not many people looked that happy, because they were back working at somewhere like the builders merchants; or if they did laugh, it was the hollow laugh of irony.
Roughly translated, "Did you have a good new year?" means "Did you have a large enough intake of alcohol to momentarily forget just what a dead end your life has become"?
The general idea is that, if this annual opportunity for complete intoxication was missed due to some circumstance, then ones' life is very much poorer for it.
Roughly translated, "Did you have a good new year?" means "Did you have a large enough intake of alcohol to momentarily forget just what a dead end your life has become"?
The general idea is that, if this annual opportunity for complete intoxication was missed due to some circumstance, then ones' life is very much poorer for it.
4th January. Running Hot & Cold.
Peter phoned for technical advice.
"The cold water's coming out hot, any ideas?"
Well, if it was your heating that was at fault, wouldn't you be poisoned by the anti-freeze and corrosion inhibitor in the system? Maybe it's a massive electrical short; is the meter spinning out of control? Or wait... Could it be seismic activity, a crack in the Earth's crust? You must have seen "Dantes' Peak", you know, with Pierce Brosnan? Unusual events, like water heating up, are a tell-tale sign that baby's going to blow! Get the hell out! You can't outrun a pyroclastic flow!
"The cold water's coming out hot, any ideas?"
Well, if it was your heating that was at fault, wouldn't you be poisoned by the anti-freeze and corrosion inhibitor in the system? Maybe it's a massive electrical short; is the meter spinning out of control? Or wait... Could it be seismic activity, a crack in the Earth's crust? You must have seen "Dantes' Peak", you know, with Pierce Brosnan? Unusual events, like water heating up, are a tell-tale sign that baby's going to blow! Get the hell out! You can't outrun a pyroclastic flow!
3rd January. Awakening.
The light of a grey Aberdeen dawn filtered through the french windows sillouetting the leafless trees against a blustery northern sky. I lay in a sleeping bag with a full bladder on the floor of Jimmys' living room as the sound of various pre-schoolers filled the house.
"Cup of tea?"
World of Chimneys 2007 begins... Groundhog Year.
"Cup of tea?"
World of Chimneys 2007 begins... Groundhog Year.
2nd January. Caponisation.
The current crop of young chickens are now entering the equivalent of puberty with a corresponding loss of innocence. Normal practice amongst poultry keepers is simply to 'dispatch' all the cockerels and make a nice pie. Unfortunately this option isn't available due to a surfeit of sentiment regarding these particular adolescents.
I suggested having the more precocious and unruly males Caponised. "A capon is a rooster (a male chicken) whose testicles were removed at a young age. Typically the castration is performed when the chicken is between 6 and 20 weeks old." A proper caponiser can apparently sort out 200 birds an hour. "...the benefits are a non-aggressive male that can serve as a mother for baby chicks. They also produce ample, tender meat when butchered and as such are a choice poultry meat in some locales. Capons taste great due to the high fat content, they are self-basting..." (this fact can for our purposes be ignored.)
It's possible that the caponising technique could be adapted for other young adults for whom the threat of the 'naughty step' is no longer deterrent enough.
I suggested having the more precocious and unruly males Caponised. "A capon is a rooster (a male chicken) whose testicles were removed at a young age. Typically the castration is performed when the chicken is between 6 and 20 weeks old." A proper caponiser can apparently sort out 200 birds an hour. "...the benefits are a non-aggressive male that can serve as a mother for baby chicks. They also produce ample, tender meat when butchered and as such are a choice poultry meat in some locales. Capons taste great due to the high fat content, they are self-basting..." (this fact can for our purposes be ignored.)
It's possible that the caponising technique could be adapted for other young adults for whom the threat of the 'naughty step' is no longer deterrent enough.
1st January. The Year of the Bore.
2007 will see the start of the Chinese 'Year of The Bore'. The Pig type is usually a montonous, self-obsessed and wearisome person. He/she is an immodest, tedious character who prefers the sound of his/her own voice. When others despair, he/she is invariably around to offer their own lengthy and fixed opinion. This type of person is diffuse and wordy with those they do not know too well, but as time passes and they become even more garrulous and soporific, those around them may discover an extremely dull and unexciting person behind that rambling and roundabout manner. Despite those born in the year of the pig having a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, they have few close friends willing to endure their excessively prosaic and humdrum inner thoughts and feelings. Such people are never afraid to share a trivial, over-long, and labourious anecdote preventing others their freedom of expression.
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