Author: Seb Palmer

Oh, how I wish I had seen these gigs live myself. Still, thanks to the interweb and YouTube, and this great film… I can enjoy the goodness.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   
    They may not mean to, but they do.   
They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   
Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself.

This poem has a great deal of resonance for me, right now. Having said that, I’d like to straight away apologise to my mum and dad for posting it!

I don’t know much about Larkin, to be honest. But I do feel like I’d like to explore his poetry further. This one reminds me, in its rather grimly jocular way, of Alan Bennett. They seem to share very British qualities of the eloquently curmudgeonly depressive!

It’s sad to hear of the recent passing of Brazilian drummer Ivan ‘Mamão’ Conti. I’m not 100% certain of this, but I believe Azymuth – Conti and his musical collaborators Bertrami and Malheiros – were the core backing band on one of my all-time favourite albums, Marcos Valle’s sublime Previsão do Tempo.

I’m not going to pretend I’m an expert on Conti or his career. I only know he and his Azymuth buddies contributed to a wonderfully rich musical tradition, in which samba and other trad’ Brazilian forms were alloyed with pop, jazz, funk, soul (even disco!).

I have a number of albums featuring Mamão’s percussive skills, and my own group, Capricorn, performed an Azymuth track in our set for many years (thanks Rod Norman, for suggesting we do that!), namely Jazz Carnival.

Mamão, thanks for all the fantastic music. May you rest in funky serenity and soulful peace!

I generally hate photos of me. As I almost always dislike how I look. I was a bit surprised, on that account, to find that I like this photo.

The funny thing is it does two things: it flatters me somewhat, overall. But at the same time it captures – in my eyes (sans glasses!) – how I’ve been of late. Tired and upset.

Shortly after I took this pic – and I took it to see how my new haircut looked – Chester came in from his ramblings. And he proceeded to totally distract and cheer me up. The cute li’l devil!

Pic

A massive thanks to Melanie de Smith, Dan Ellis, my mum, The Garage, BOFI Racing and Four Paws Racing, for getting me mobile again.

We’ve been without a car for a fairly long spell now; during which spell we must also thank Daniel Samuels for the temporary loan of a Vauxhall Corsa.

Yesterday I picked up our ‘new’ MX5, from Four Paws. She now has a new CAT and clutch. She’s still far from perfect – there are rust issues (a real bitch of a problem that tends to affect all old MX5s!), and a noisy wheel bearing, etc. – but she’s roadworthy and street legal.

I thought I ought to keep a catalogue of all the models I have. Initially just the unbuilt kits. So I don’t buy stuff again (unless I want to, of course!). But I may expand this to include built models as well. Hmmm!?

I have to express heartfelt gratitude to Dan, a pal since secondary school, who’s helped us out with getting wheels. And my mum, for stepping up to help me cover Hire & Reward insurance, so I can start earning again.

That old saying ‘a friend in need is a friend indeed’ has taken on a deeper resonance, thanks to their generosity and kindness. Thanks, mum and my ol’ buddy! Thanks also to Mel, who gave us the car that’s just been made roadworthy.

I don’t know if it’s generally true or not, these days, and in ‘our culture’ at large, but I feel that, personally, I find it quite hard to ask for help. It feels like an admission of personal failure, to even need help.

A successful person ought to stand on their own! Plus I’m quite introverted, so helping or being helped can be tricky, as it involves interaction and, potentially, emotions.

I love Bill Withers. And just as the aforementioned saying about friendship, referred to above, has achieved a deeper meaning for me, so too has his superb song, Lean On Me.

But there is an irony, or a Catch 22, inasmuch as that when one feels weak, vulnerable, or at a low ebb – as I have been doing lately – one can become less inclined to help others

With one’s own suffering becoming all consuming, the energy reserves required to help others simply aren’t there. But perhaps doing so despite this can be part of fixing one’s problems? I don’t claim to know! But that it occurs to me at all is, I think, a good sign.

Dan and other (Mel and mum) good examples are making me think about how – whether right now, or a bit later (when I’m feeling better able) – I or we might have something to contribute, either to those we already know, or even those we don’t as yet.

And to finish? A sentiment I need to express, done a la Beastie Boys! I like the music, a lot. But the fashion sense and vocal vibes? A bit brash for me, these days. Still, this era of BB (Check Your Head?) is great, in most respects. RIP, Adam Yauch.

Today is the anniversary of the passing of Teresa’s dad, Clement Samuels, or Clem. He’s buried in Carpenders Park Cemetery, Watford, on the NW outskirts of London. We made a pilgrimage ‘darn sarf’ to pay our respects. This is our first such visit, since the funeral, in 2018. Covid got in the way initially.

It was nice to see and hear Teresa, Andrew and Daniel reminisce about good times with their father. And I think Teresa really needed to make the trip, as she still wells up from time to time, thinking about him. He’s been laid to rest in a nice place.

This was our second Samuels family related excursion of the Easter break, after Oliver’s wedding, on Tuesday. Once again we spent the night in a B&B. This time chosen by me, and literally just around the corner from the graveyard.

The Vauxhall Corsa Daniel very kindly loaned us broke down – the ‘unlucky dip’* gearbox gave out! – leaving us stranded in Watford. So we’ve had to book a taxi to the rail station, and a National Express coach from there back to Cambridge.

* Unlucky dip because it was only selecting reverse!

It worked fine for the first few days, getting us to Oliver’s wedding, and then home again. But it started misbehaving on the trip to Clem’s grave. We’d stop at lights or a roundabout, and it’d refuse to go into any gear other than reverse. Quite stressful at the time!

Danny came out and towed us to a location where he could take a proper look. And then he managed to nurse it back to his, whilst I drove his van. So we got see Dan’s place in Luton. Then after a much needed restorative cuppa, we went to the cemetery in another old jalopy.

After about an hour or so at Clem’s grave, Daniel dropped us at our B&B. I then made travel arrangements to get us to Cambridge (train travel is insanely expensive!). Hannah will collect us from there, and we’ll spend a night over at theirs.

Under normal circ’s this might all be rather tiring. But with what I’ve got going on in the background, I’m totally and utterly exhausted!

I’d normally have set up my teaching for the summer term by now. But instead, nothing but confusion. I don’t even know how to approach my pupils/parents.

I’ve been keeping the real meat of what’s going on out of the public sphere. And I probably ought to stay on that tack. But the desire to get everything out in the open is powerful!

But back to the trip to Londinium. We were supposed to meet with Teresa’s folks – mum, sister, brother (and pooch) – today. But that’s off now. Instead we’ve been ok’d to remain at the B&B till 2.30pm (checkout is officially 11am), when a taxi will convey us to Watford Junction station.

We’ll catch the first of two coaches, Watford to a Heathrow, at 3.15pm, and then a second coach, Heathrow to Cambridge, arriving at Parker’s Piece at 8pm. So, that’s a journey of four hours and forty-five minutes. Sheesh! Ok for students, perhaps, but a bit too epic for old duffers like us.

After our two day trip to’t Smoke, for Oliver and Alexandra’s wedding, I’m totally and utterly exhausted. I wanted to find a pic of some cartoon character flattened by a steamroller, as that best fits how I feel. But this image of Wile E. Coyote is near enough!

I slept like a log, thank heavens. And have continued to do so throughout most of the day. I don’t know what’s for the best right now – as covered in other recent posts, I am, at present, getting no professional crisis support whatsoever, which I sorely need – so I’m going with what feels right.

And little things, like Teresa making an instant noodle lunch, with scrambled egg and a banana, really mean a lot right now. I’m so glad she has some time off work. The company and support at this difficult time is greatly appreciated.