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Today was pretty weird. I had a counselling session at 10am. I barely managed to get myself out of bed in time to be there. So of course my counsellor was late. That figures.

Then whilst mid-session, some work comes in. I’m having to take this kind of drop of the hat stuff, to ensure some money comes in. That plays havoc with arrangements. Such as my meds being dropped off ‘pm’.

Naturally I get a call during my delivery route, asking where I am. I’m working. As and when I can. Fortunately my meds can be (and are) left with a kindly neighbour. It’s bit of a faff. But it gets sorted.

Back home, and straight into a bit of weeding in the garden. Take several buckets filled with nettles, numerous stings to remember them by, and other green garden waste, to the dump.

And then an interlude. A farewell to an era, perhaps? A need to be outdoors. Free for a brief spell. A pleasant respite from ‘purpose’. A beer and a smoke. And then back to reality.

With a (free!) tin bath strapped in the boot, and empty weed buckets, it’s back home for dinner. Teresa’s terrific. Where would I be without her? A lovely pasta meal ready. And she’s pleased about the work and the weeding, and even the tin bath!

A bit of TV: Fred Dibnah frothing over the golden age of steam, and a bit of 147 snooker action on YouTube. A Guinness and some pud? All good!

And then from tin baths to hot steaming watery baths. Ah, bliss. But I’ve burnt my neck, driving around delivering with the roof down. The cool drivers’ breeze means I don’t notice sunburn. Better start carrying sun block.

The nettle stings, quite vicious at the time, are all gone. Now the pain is sunburn and a headache. Beer and smokes, sun behind the wheel? Ok, so I’m paying with a mother of a headache.

But all things considered, todays’ pleasure pain balance has at least been not just tolerable, but slightly weighted towards the better end of things. And thank goodness.

And finally, bed. How I love bed at the moment. It’s a soft warm womb-like haven. And to be clean and warm, and a bit woozy from sunshine, booze, dinner and a hot bath? It outweighs sunburn and existential angst. At least for now!

*Not our old tin bath. I’ve seen folk selling these online, for £100-200+! I’ve half a mind to clean ours up (only a little; patina is good!), and see what we can get for it.

I was lucky enough to be sent a free review copy of this excellent book. I’ve actually had it quite a while now. I was initially somewhat chary of reading it, as it has the look of a self-published work.

And so, I believe, it is. Either that or it’s published by a small specialty publisher. Whatever the case may be, it is sometimes a bit like one might expect such works to be; a bit amateurish, and would’ve benefited from some firm but fair editing.

Having said all of that, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. Truth be told, it’s very well written, esp’ so for someone who isn’t primarily an author or writer, but a good ol’ U.S. of A. ‘flyboy’!

Many chapters start with Eager’s poems. And whilst they’re not Shakespeare or Longfellow, I think they’re a good inclusion, showing another facet to a military man many might’ve assumed could be lacking in sensitivity or artistic leanings.

Occasionally it’s a tad repetitive. And when Eager renders conversation, he does so – especially regarding his own ‘voice’ – in a somewhat stiffly formal manner. One suspects recorded transcripts of these moments might’ve been slightly less stuffy, or expository.

Having said that, Eager was the son of a high school principal, a good Boy Scout, and a military man, through and through. So there’s a slim chance, I suppose, that he really did talk as he renders himself here. But I really suspect not. His character comes across as too human. And sometimes his speech here is almost robotically leaden!

But the thing is, he lead a very interesting life. And he was, by the sounds of it (admittedly his own self-portrait) a pretty ‘good egg’, as we Brits might say.* The book itself was written at the urging of friends and family. And they also helped bring it completion in its current form.

How much it owes its interesting back and forth structure – it jumps around from youth to adulthood in a very engaging way – to Eager, and how much to later editorial interventions, I’m not sure. It’s a clever way to make the book more compelling, and works a treat.

We learn about what seems to have been a pretty idyllic all-American childhood, with trips to a cottage in the mountains (built by his father and others). And then how he managed to get himself enrolled on a unique flying course, before the war brought America into the fight.

We learn about his family. And early romances. There’s even a very funny bit about a teacher he’s fond of and a fart in her classroom that she mis attributes to poor young Dick! And then there’s a really touching and moving bit about his dog, Judge.

All of this is woven into the more ‘officially’ significant story of how he wound up becoming Monty’s pilot, flying the victor of El Alamein around in a U.S. B-17 bomber converted into an airborne office-cum-taxi. But Richard Ernest (earnest and eager!) Evans’ life is ultimately fascinating for both his civilian and military experiences.

It’s supplemented by lots of pertinent photos, some very personal to Eager, some stock WWII ref, but still very relevant to the story this book tells. There’s also detailed ‘chronology’, lots of his correspondence, and a very useful glossary.

This truly excellent book tells the story of a very interesting and seemingly very decent man, living through extraordinary times. I’m not a military man myself (although I love military history). But nevertheless, Richard Evans, I salute you!

I’m writing this review as I near the end of the book. The vast majority of which is given over to childhood and young adulthood (I haven’t yet read the epilogue, which I suspect summarises some of the rest of his life). I’ve really enjoyed the read, and would definitely recommend it.

*He often refers to the various form of national linguistic peculiarities he encounters, serving in WWII alongside Canadians, Australian, Brits and his own fellow Americans.

At the time of first posting this, it’s really just an image dump. I’ve discovered that I really love the two Willem Van de Veldes – father and son – especially, perhaps, the Younger.

I hope to collect a gallery here, of as many of their works as I can. As both reference and inspiration. And then at some point I’ll start adding the pertinent info: attribution, title, year, and maybe even sources (for my images).

I’d like to make some copies of some of these paintings, in the fullness of time. I don’t see that happening all that soon, for various reasons. But hopefully it will eventually come to pass!

After our recent trip to the National Maritime Museum and Queen’s House, both parts of the Royal Museums Greenwich, I have a consuming passion for naval maritime painting.

I recently ordered a very cheap copy of The Art of the Van de Veldes, which arrived yesterday. I have to admit to being somewhat disappointed in this. It’s actually pretty decent, for what it is. But it’s far from what I really wanted.

This latest addition to my portfolio of interests has been brewing up a while now. I’ve had some great books from Pen & Sword, via some of their maritime imprints, such as Glasgow Museums, The Ship Models, and Warships of the Napoleonic Era, by Robert Gardiner (my review of the latter can be read here). Plus I had already acquired Naval Warfare in the Age of Sail, by Bernard Ireland, and one or two other titles in this line.

The issue, and it’s actually a very common one, especially with slightly older art books, is that there are only a very few colour images (and these are neither big nor very high quality), the bulk of the images being black and white.

As is so often the case, in this deeply capitalist society of ours, what I really want proves to be unaffordably expensive! This looks much more like what I’m after:

That said, and given the money folk are asking (mostly around the £300+ mark!) I’d want to be 100% sure these actually have lots of juicy high quality full-colour reproductions! And from what little info’ on them I’ve garnered online, I’m not sure that they do!

I want one of these T-shirts! I saw a guy wearing one, or something very like, at Salute, a couple of weekends back.

There are many Wicker Man T-shirts out there. But this is easily my favourite, thanks to this fab’ sun!

Most of the alternatives are not to my taste at all. Having said that, I don’t mind this one:

I made a cardboard sports car model during lockdown, pictured above. Just a bit of simple primitive fun. It wasn’t even a real car. Just a kind of amalgamated mix of classic sports car shapes/looks.

My dad recently bought me this book, which was nice (thanks, Pops!):

I wanted this book because I have fond memories of dad or I (or both of us!) making a card sports car of this type, from a crafting book, when I was a wee bairn. I thought it’d be nice to use it as ref’ for an adult revisitation of this kind of childish fun.

So that’s what I’m doing, whilst watching the Selby vs. Brecel final, on TV. I’ve selected a car I’ve never heard of before. The Pacey Hassan. And I’ve started working up ‘profiles’ (if that’s what you call ‘em?) to use in scaling up or down the overall shape.

I’ll probably transfer these sketches to my iMac. And then tidy them up a bit. For accuracies sake. I’m not being super anal about this. I’m going to keep it all basic and sketchy. We’re not aiming at a perfect replica. Just using this particular Bentley variant as an inspiration.

Wow! Brilliant.

With guest spots from Louis Cole and Candy Dulfer, and covers by The Dan and Stevie Wonder (Reeling In Years and Signed, Sealed, Delivered), this is a fabulous film of the Fearless Flyers in all their awesomely funky finery.

At just shy of an hour and a half, that’s quite a set. Esp’ considering it’s almost all instrumental – only Louis Cole’s viral original Bank Account having vocals – and the short form of most FF tunes as previously released via YouTube.

It’s such a wonderful distillation of music as pure joy. And it’s quite surprising and refreshing to realise that, despite the almost laser sharp focus on stripped down instrumental funkiness, it’s actually musically quite diverse.

From classic blooz to elements of heavy rock, psychedelia, and even garage psych (Running Man), the genre-splicing keeps the whole set fresh, despite almost no vocals, and the groove taking precedence over showboating or solos.

That said, all concerned are fabulous musicians. And each gets a turn or three in the spotlight. Unlike on quite a few of the FF YouTube tracks, there are no horns at all, except when Candy Dulfer guests, playing alto on Hero Town.

Cory Wong is the current undisputed King of ‘chicken scratch’. Mark Lettieri shines on baritone guitar, and brings both the rawk and some virtuoso fire. Joe Dart, well, we all know about the love he earns for his low register mastery (and Olympic neck-work!). And Nate Smith shows just how goddam fierce and funky a drummer can be with just kick, snare, and sock-cymbal (and some incredible hand percussion).

Both Louis Cole and Smith get solo drum spots. It’s really interesting – perhaps especially to a fellow drummer like me – to hear how much musical character each displays. Playing around with some similar ideas, on similar set ups, yet sounding so individual. Wonderful!

Have these guys (n’ gal[s]) been to these Benighted Isles? If so, how did I miss it? And if not… please come and shower us in funky goodness. Lord knows the UK needs some mojo right now!

I’m a big fan of Mark Selby. So it was extremely gratifying to watch him make the first ever maximum break in a Crucible final yesterday.

Cool as the proverbial cucumber, and despite trailing to his adversary, Luca Brecel, Selby negotiated the break with the quiet steady aplomb that is one his (several) trademark qualities.

Was that MC and überfan Rob Walker, shouting ‘get in’ when Mark potted the final and tricky last red, along the cushion, to keep the break going? It certainly sounded like him.

It was lovely to see Brecel and referee Brendan Moore hugging the jubilant Selby, afterwards. This particular 147 was a first on several fronts: the first in a Crucible final; at Brecel’s first time past the first round. And it’s ref’ Moore’s last Crucible final, making a hat-trick. A nice way to bow out!

Only Kyren Wilson might be unhappy about it, as he also scored a maximum, earlier in this Championship, and will now have to share the prize money with Selby.

This is the sixth time the BBC will have serialised Great Expectations for TV. Six times!?* Talk about flogging a dead horse. Having read the book and seen several film and TV adaptations, I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to watch another re-tread.

This reminds me of a post I did about the over-veneration of the familiar idols, be it the Mona Lisa or The Beatles. It shows a lamentable poverty of imagination and ambition, and it narrows the range of culture that’s being made broadly available.

Indeed, it’s highly symptomatic of the malaise that grips our mainstream culture nowadays. With the Tory party staging a gradual takeover of the BBC, prior to doing away with it altogether (or reducing it, as they’ve been doing with the NHS for decades, to a ‘brand’ to be chopped up and sold off), it’s the result of having bean-counters inserted at every level.

Great Expectations is, like most of Dickens work, a pretty darn good yarn. But is it so good we should remake it every decade? Every time the BBC (or anyone else for that matter) spends millions re-making it, that’s millions not going on something different. Perhaps something more obscure and/or interesting.

As far as I’m concerned it’s a natural outcome of bottom-line capitalist economics. Something’s already popular? Great, let’s keep milking it and flogging it. If our art, literature and music, etc, form a culture that could be a richly diverse orchard, this modern consumer capitalist way has the effect of replacing all of that potential diversity with a bland mono-culture cash-crop.

This latest re-boot is by Steven Knight, whose most recent successes are Peaky Blinders and Taboo. Neither of which interest me remotely. In fact Peaky Blinders (which got Knight a CBE) annoys me, as I like ‘newsboy’ flat-caps ‘cause of Tom Waits, not Cillian Murphy and co.

Teresa watched some of Taboo. I tried. But couldn’t hack it. So much modern media culture – Peaky Blinders and Taboo both fall foul of this – partake of a shallow yawn-inducing pseudo-Goth graphic-novel style vision of masculinity and criminal culture, in a way that signposts the UK following the US into a MAGA/hillbilly hell of deluded machismo, tattoos and poor sartorial choices.

Even if this were to be the best ever reinterpretation of Gurt Spectorations, I wouldn’t be up for it. It’s already been done to death. And a cursory glance, as Teresa watched it, reveals any such hope to be massively unlikely (the visual design and colour palette show it to be very much a product of our times, and as far from original as one could imagine).

Defenders of it might say, well, it’s not aimed at you. Fine. Understood. But I’m entitled to my view. And I still massively resent that the BBC, an institution I cherish, should be, like all ‘commons’, under attack by the philistines of Toryland.

The BBC ought to be boldly expanding the reach of our media culture, educating, enlightening and inspiring. Not just spewing out the same old same old, just because the bean counters, whose minds are as straitjacketed as their suits, think it might sell.

* In 1959, 1967, 1981, 1999, 2011, and yet again now. That’s nearly every decade! Only the ‘70s and the ‘00s escaped!

Wow! That was a stunner, no mistake!

First 20 year old Chinese newcomer Si Jiahui blasted the odds-on favourite for this match, Belgium’s Luca Brecel (himself only 28), off the baize, streaking to a commanding 14-5 lead.

But Luca came back at him, swinging, taking 11 consecutive frames! The match, initially a best of 33, lurched wildly, in terms of dominance. And at 14-14 became a best of five. But Luca’s winning streak kept going. Astonishing!

It looked, at 16-14, like Si had finally crumpled, perhaps belatedly realising how unlikely his run to this point had been. For a spell his mojo had clearly left him. But in frame 31 he finally got back in the saddle, winning it to zero.

But by that point Luca only needed one more frame. And he duly took it, winning the 32nd frame and the match. The contrast ‘twixt this’n, and the Selby vs. Allen match was, or rather is, chalk n’ cheese!

It’ll be interesting to see who makes it through to the final from the latter. Will Brecel face Selby, or Allen? should be interesting either way. But what a match this Brecel vs. Si game proved to be. Unquestionably a Crucible classic.

Commentators and snooker deities Dennis Taylor and Stephen Hendry were clearly loving it as much as us mere mortal viewers, Taylor highlighting that Brecel’s fight back marks the biggest comeback in Crucible history. The crowd quite rightly gave the two gladiators a well deserved standing ovation.