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I can’t recall how it happened, but a small chip of wood got knocked off this little blue gate I made, out front. I kept the bit of wood, intending to glue it back in place as soon as…

Aeons later, I’ve finally got around to it. I’ve been sat at home for approaching two hours now, in the front lounge area, keeping an eye out, to make sure nobody nicks my clamps, whilst it glues up.

I hope the glue I used does the trick? I used a builder’s PVA, instead of the woodworking stuff I usually use. I also taped it up a bit. Hoping that’d help.

These wooden globes are looking a little sad and tired (rather like me, perhaps?)

Another wee jobbie that needed attending to was the back door. It was practically falling off; the top hinge had mysteriously lost two screws. And the two that remained, were loose. All of this added up to making it not close properly, unsurprisingly.

There are hundreds more similar jobs that need to be done, throughout our dear ol’ home. The next on my list is the ‘orrible manky mouldy trim, etc, around the bath.

Yesterday I had a hankering for a Hot Dog (or two or three). So I bought some. And Teresa and I are five out of the pack of ten.

Today I’m having another three for lunch. Yesterday’s were wrapped in ordinary(-ish) white sliced bread. And had a wee dab of fiery English mustard on ‘em.

Today’s, more authentically, I reckon, are in hot dog rolls, with American style mustard. Much milder!

I wouldn’t be too surprised if most of what little nutritive value might be in these is the butter and onions.

But they’re dashed tasty, and they’re putting a smile on my careworn face. Maybe even bringing a little energy to my exhaustipated and enervated frame?

Believe it or not, the above pic’ shows our bedroom, or rather those areas of it I’ve tidied – ‘my side’ of the room, you might say? – massively improved in terms of tidiness.

My tattered n’ torn psyche was bellowing at me to de-clutter these areas… again. So I did. I seem to have to do this over and over and over. But that’s life, I guess?

It’ll actually get better still, pretty soon, as the two framed Thin Lizzy prints will be going in the music room/office/studio. And there’s a little pile of six more framed prints below the Nightlife artwork that will also be going up in the drum room.

Hitherto it’s been my custom to disrobe for bed and simply dump my clothing on the floor, down by the foot of our bed. Not any more! I’ll be folding clothes neatly, and leaving them (temporarily) atop the chest of drawers. To be worn again or put in the wash, the following day.

The areas pictured above are usually piled high with stuff. Now the floor is clear. And the chest of drawers is neat and minimal. Ditto the chair.

The thing under the chair is a little wooden ‘bed table’ type thing, that I made years ago. Like a mini bench, for eating off, or doing whatever it might be; reading, arts n’ crafts.

Anyway, whilst wee pockets of chaos persist, even in these pics (if you look close enough), it’s a trend in the right direction. And I really do feel the benefits, more or less immediately.

As I drove through Terrington St. Clement earlier today, this handsome building, with its unusual square tower, caught my eye.

Sadly time didn’t allow for attempts to get in closer for a better view. Allus could do was zoom in a bit.

The position, on a bend in the road, with no footpaths, didn’t help.

I tried parking round the corner. But the view is even more distant and and obscured from this other position. Lovely building though.

A little later I was in King Lynn. And managed to snap these rather pretty little almshouses. I’ve passed them many times. And always wanted to get a snap.

The little coats of arms things show, left to right, a bees nest, the names of the folk who paid for the almshouses, and the years they were built.

Teresa and I are, so it seems, hoarders. And in our tiny Victorian end-of-terrace, it just doesn’t work. so it’s time to get rid of more stuff!

Today’s trip to the dump sees us moving on a pair of chairs. I was going to strip and and paint them. But it turns out… I ain’t! Just need to thin things down.

Also I finally got shot of a very nice Freecycle solid wood door. This was intended for our new front door. But it was too big. And in the end I just didn’t get around to using it. So I chopped it up, and dumped it.

Maybe I should’ve kept it? Purely for the timber. But my sanity currently demands that I jettison stuff. A cluttered and chaotic home is not conducive to calmness, for me.

Similarly, we got rid of this ‘carriage lamp’ style light. I’ve put a few similar-ish lights up, around the place. But this one just lay around making the environs look ‘orrid. So it’s off to the knackers yard.

Likewise we bid adieu to a load of foam matting. I’d used it for a while in the workshop. But then it’d been taken out, and just left hanging around, adding to the ‘hillbilly heap’ vibe!

There’s still sooo much more to be got rid of. But it’s always good to chip away; little by little…

Tonight we celebrate Chinese New Year. We had Peking Duck, with sweet and sour pork ‘n’ chicken balls, prawn crackers, and – a bit off-piste, perhaps? – a Thai curry.

I got us a bottle of Nozecco, as well. And we’re watching Fist of Fury (1972!). I had wanted to watch Kung Fu Hustle. But we didn’t want to pay for it. And couldn’t find it free.

We tried Jet Li’s Legend of the Red Dragon. But it was just too silly/shite. So we looked at what was ‘free to us’, and settled on this:

It’s dubbed, as was the Jet Li film. Dubbing is something that renders most movies unwatchable to me. They sound so stilted and unconvincing!

Fist o’ Fury is just marginally more watchable than the Jet Li one. Both are ludicrous in the extreme. The culture of cartoonish machismo is just downright bizarre in its extremity.

Still, we’re persevering! Just for a bit of silly fun. Altho’ I might wind up thinking we ought’ve shelled out for KFH!?

PS – The day after; in the end I bailed. Went to bed at 7.30! Which isn’t that unusual for me any more.

In the midst of recent Jack Kerouac Beat reveries, I got to thinking a lot about ol’ Tom Waits.

This lead to me discovering (or, more accurately, re-discovering) the recent Closing Time 50th anniversary stuff.

I think Closing Time itself was recorded some time in ‘72 – the year I was born! – but not released until March ‘73. Anyway, whatever, as folks say these days. I love it!

I discovered that you could buy these fab double-sided posters. Naturally I ordered two, so as to be able to display both wonderful sides.

They served today. And boy, are they beautiful. Printed very jerky, on heavy paper stock, they are approx’ 45cmx60cm (18”×24”).

In the past I’ve just blue-tacked posters or large pics on my walls. These, however, deserve, no, demand framing. Can’t wait to get them up!

I’ve passed this church countless times over the years. But until now, I’ve not stopped to take a look. I don’t pass it all that often more recently. Bit in this rather grim wet day, I finally stopped to investigate. And I’m glad I did.

The series of alcoves above are intriguing. Wonder what they housed? And when they were emptied? They were probably figures. And most likely removed during the Reformation. But I’m just guessing.

And then it’s time to leave…

Sweet creaming Jesu! I’ve put off buying this for years. Partly on account of usually being broke, admittedly. But also partly because I’ve sometimes bought Brazilian music and been a little bit disappointed with it. I was a little worried this might be one of those instances.

I could’ve listened to this stuff online. And indeed, I did occasionally listen to snippets, but I never really gave it my full attention. Well, despite the perennial lack of Luca, I ordered it. Along with Gal Costa is India, album, of similar vintage the latter being released in 1973).

I’ve just listened to the first full play through, in my car, driving to work. It’s a grey and rainy day in The Fens. And boy, oh boy, did this bring some much-needed Brazilian sunshine into the interior of my car, and the innards of my spirit/s oul!

It’s a delightfully, heady and eclectic mix of all the stuff I love. Brazilian samba, with jazy harmonies and melodies, sometimes vocal, sometimes instrumental (beautiful vocal harmonies), but with horns, and strings, and even synths… and this is 1972! It’s MPB, it’s folk, funk, rock, pop, and easy-listening, it’s progressive! It’s just bloody brilliant, is what it is (he says, getting unabashedly Clarkson, in his enthusiasm).

I’m just disappointed in myself, for my lack of faith. I should’ve bought this years ago. I’ve known about it for eons. And it’s always appealed. He just looks such a funky dude. And the cover is brilliant. What a beautiful shot of a beautiful building, and a beautiful man. Nice tight face. The whole vibe is just totally up my Boulevard.

To have the music hit the spot so sweetly. Such a heart piercing bull’s-eye, it’s just gravy. Can’t say how happy it makes me.

It’s kind of funny, when synchronicity strikes. I just watch the Beastie Boys story, on Apple TV. That was superb. In it, add rock relates how MCA, when accused of hypocrisy by an interviewer, replied, ‘I’d rather be a hypocrite than somebody who never changes.’ Touché!

I’m not the same person, I was 10 or 20 years ago, at the height of my all devouring passion for music, be like jazz, funk soul, Latin Brazilian, pop, easy, listening metal, whatever. Back, then I was a drinker and smoker (of weed). I’m trying to be sober these days and the ravages of time, and Miss spent time at that (perhaps?) have left their marks.

But, interestingly, I also came across something recently that talks about scars, and scar-tissue. I’ll have to dig that quote out as I’ve completely forgotten what it was or where I heard it. But I believe whoever it was – poss’ Tom Waits? – was talking about how scars are the visual markers, if you like (or perhaps even the Momentos?) of traumas we have been through. And, very crucially, survived. Perhaps these moments, and the scars they leave, are things we shouldn’t shun, but, strange as it may sound, embrace?

Anyway, I’m starting to digress massively into psychology, or whatever the hell it is. Let’s come back to the music…

This was Verocai’s only album as an artist in his own right. And it sank without trace! Read more about Arthur here.

I started watching this yesterday, and finished it off tonight. It was superb. It’s done as a film of a live stage show, presented by Adam Horowitz and Michael Diamond, aka Ad-Rock and Mike D.

Shot in New York’s fabulous (?) Theatre, and directed by Spike Jonze, it’s a very informative, candid, and ultimately moving piece of work.

The story of their rise to fame and success is an enjoyable and engaging one. Seeing Ad-Rock well up and break down in his soliloquy about Yauch, near the end, was very powerful.