On the way home from Hannah’s we stopped in at Season’s Garden Centre. A new business that’s recently appeared (after years of watching construction and wondering what was coming!), between Chatteris and Somersham.
But they do at least show some intent!
I bought five daffodil bulb sets. Every year as the daffodils come out I long for more at home, in our garden. And slowly I’ve been adding to our meagre stock. But it seems to be taking forever!
My attempts with umbellifers, or cow parsley type plants, are faring even worse! Only the stuff nature plants flourishes. The two seed sets I’ve bought have yielded naught, alas.
These King Alfred are, I think, a bit bigger.
I got four sets of cheaper generic narcissi, and one of a larger more expensive King Alfred variety. There are probably a similar quantity of pre-established daff’s in this particular border.
These are amongst the few from previous years.
We don’t know what the little purple multi-flowers are. We’ll have to Google image search ‘em, I guess. Which Teresa has just done… grape hyacinths, apparently! Or muscari armeniacum!
I planted five new bulb sets today.
Believe it or not this long thin flower bed has actually already been weeded a couple of times since xmas! Still haven’t mowed any lawn. Reckon I’ll wait till it gets a bit warmer first. Mind, it’s warmer outside right now than it is inside our home!
Looking after Hannah’s daughters, my nieces, Ali and Sofi, is a regular and very welcome routine that we have going on at present. It may not last long, as I know Hannah needs to change her work situation. So we’re enjoying it whilst it lasts.
Ali’s a great drum student.
I’m lending Ali a drum kit. It’s an old Premier, in pretty poor nick. it used to be my busking kit, when I did that, in days of yore! I think I need to upgrade the cymbals I’m loaning, as the ones on this kit are awful!
It’s nice teaching Ali. She’s a great kid, and a good drum student. Both Ali and Sofi are musical. Ali favours guitar and drums; Sofi, clarinet, piano, and now sax as well!
Quality time with the utterly adorable Lobster.
It’s pleasant to get out of our own environment. And it’s not too demanding. In fact it’s fun. I slept superbly last night, as well. Which is, at present, rather unusual.
We do breakfast lunch and dinner for everyone. Or rather Teresa does. I help out a bit sometimes (I even cooked a whole meal on the first visit!). But it’s mostly my terrific mrs.
This is typical scene, in Northstowe.
Today I’ve been tinkering with a guitar. I used to do that quite a lot. But I’ve lost touch with ye olde axe in the last year or two. So much so, it’s initially frustrating, discovering how much I’ve forgotten!
But it comes back relatively quickly. Not that I’m great, on guitar. I was pretty competent at one point. But that was when I played daily, which I haven’t done now for aeons. Well, whatever, as folk say nowadays. I’d just like to get back into it a bit, and hopefully enjoy doing so!
If I could afford it, which of course I can’t, I’d have a thorough massage once a week. Particularly the back, and especially the lower (cervical?) area, and the neck and shoulders. Classic stress loci.
But whilst I can occasionally persuade Teresa to give me a few minutes of back massage, in the main I’m reliant on other stuff for relaxation. Self-medicating with booze works, for sure. But isn’t the healthiest way.
The results are immediately tangible.
Chester, our delightful and, of late, not so wee moggie, can be a real blessing. Today, like yesterday, I plan to spend as much time as poss’ resting in bed. And about 20 minutes ago he popped in, from one of his regular jaunts outside. The little darling came straight up to me and went straight into face rubbing. Which I adore.
Trump watching Higgins at work.
Another almost cast iron sure fire way I’ve found to relax is watching (good) snooker. For some reason it has to be players I find engaging, playing very well. Anything less, and it doesn’t work. Todays snooker menu consists of the gargantuan feast that is Trump vs. Higgins, 2019 World Championship.
Over eight hours of two of the greatest playing superbly. Although John Higgins is undoubtedly brilliant, he’s not one of the players I’m drawn to. For some reason (my artistic aesthetic side?) I like guys like Trump, O’Sullivan, Selby, etc. They play superbly, and look great doing it. Higgins looks like an accountant or a bank clerk!
Trump in killer shark mode, nailed eight frames in a row!
Trump played so phenomenally well in this match, particularly one session – which Steve Davis aptly described as ‘brutal’, and ‘controlled annihilation’! – that it really was one of the best snooker finals one could hope to watch.
And, as Stephen Hendry commented, these longer matches bring something the shorter formats just can’t deliver. Epic! And yet also soothing…
For a while now Teresa and I have being doing alternate weekends looking after Hannah’s girls, our nieces, Ali and Sofi.
Sofi with her completed ‘za!
This weekend is a first, inasmuch as I’m looking after the girls on my own. Teresa decided to stay home and do homey stuff.
Ready for the oven… (pizza, not I!)My little ‘za, in’t oven.
Hannah and the girls were having home-made pizzas. Even though I’d already had a lovely curry, with couscous, at home earlier, I had to have some home made pizza!
Pizza base, tomato sauce, chorizo and cheddar.
Ali disappeared off to her room for a video call, with her friend Ash, who now lives in New Zealand. Hannah, Sofi and I watched Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery. So silly! Mike Myers’ pastiche/homage to the ‘60s (transplanted to the ‘90s) is fab, baby!
So silly, but so funny.Kind of ironic, given Burt’s passing only yesterday!
Today was a terrifically relaxing Sunday, after a rather odd Saturday (about the latter*; least said, soonest mended!).
What a funny boy!
For once we actually got properly stuck in to doing next to nothing. And boy was it worth it! It’s actually incredibly hard to really stop and do very little. Modern life has this way of making one feel permanently plugged in to myriad little chores and worries.
Of course we didn’t literally do absolutely nothing. It was Chinese New Year, so we had a Chinese meal, partly from the local takeaway, and partly home cooked. We ate at the dining table. A rare event! Mainly because it’s usually overloaded with detritus.
The Sunday Scrabble board.
We also played our usual game of Sunday afternoon Scrabble, after taking some turns on Crash Bandicoot 2, on my ancient but still functioning PS1. Whilst playing Scrabble we watched The Fast Lady, starring Stanley Baxter, James Robertson Justice, Leslie Phillips and Julie Christie. Goodness me, Christie really was something!
What a great poster!**
I think we must’ve watched this movie before? Either that, or it’s almost identical to another we’ve seen!? The weird thing is that I have memories of watching a film with almost exactly the same plot (and possibly even the same actors?) but in black and white, not colour. And with a different car at the centre of the action. A car with all kinds of weird pipes coming out of the engine? Or am I conflating two different films into one? But of a mystery either way!
Screen blankets…… prevent frosting.
And talking about cars: my Mazda needs these protective window doodads Teresa bought me, which keep the two main screens frost-free. And I’ve also been putting a blanket in the boot, to wrap up the battery, and prevent it causing no-starts!
-3° according to my iPhone weather app.
* This little asterisked note is a much later (23/3/‘23) addition to this post; only much later – the gravity of the situation at the time eluded me – have I come to realise what a complete effin’ nightmare might ensue from my getting thrown out of our local ‘Spoons, aka The Hippodrome.
Teresa and I used to be model customers, and regular patrons. Not because of Tim the Twat’s appalling politics, or the enlightened way in which he runs his business, but because it was just good enough on the cost/benefit scales, when it came to eating out as an occasional treat, to work well for us.
I am now a leper pariah, barred entrance!
A sporran affair: ‘Och, worra lassie!‘
** If misleading: Leslie Phillips, his babes, and JRJ all really take a back seat to the two stars missing from this poster, Baxter & Christie!
The Cat… Gene’s buff, a speccy nerd obsessed with jazz!
How I feel sometimes when transcribing drum parts!The neighbours disapprove of The Cat’s listening habits.
Non Jazz stuff…
Not sure what he’s up to here. But look at all that fab gear!
Myeah… back to his primary love, good ol’ Jazz Music!
I love this pic; bassist looks after his bull fiddle in the rain.Ok, so I’m featuring this one again… but I just love it!Ditto this one!
If anyone’s interested, I found this, a page with an interesting selection of record changer magazines for sale, featuring the cover art of Deitch and others.
Gene, with sons Kim and Simon.Fantastic!We’ve all been here, right?What has come to be known more recently as ‘crate digging’.
Oh no! I just posted about cataloguing my CD collection on FB. I thought I’d illustrate that post with an image by Gene Deitch, whose character The Cat was an avid record collecting jazz buff.
Deitch did some amusingly prophetic cartoons.Haha… love this!
In finding an apt image, I discovered that Gene passed, aged 95, in 2020. I have a nice book, Cat On A Hot Thin Groove, about his illustrations for Record Changer magazine.
I bought this book about him years ago.
He also created characters like Nudnik, as well as animating such famous cartoons as Tom and Jerry and Popeye, and doing all sorts of other artistic/illustrative work. I’ve peppered this post with a few images by him I either love for their visual artistry, or their comic wit, or, frequently, both.
I got the image at the top of this post from an excellent obit’ from the NY Times, which you can read in full here.
Deitch in his Prague home/studio, in later life.I pinched this for an Xmas card one year.Bold abstraction meets jazzy figuration.His Record Changer covers alone would be a great legacy.
I’ve not watched Munro (1960) – see below – yet, but as soon as time allows, I’ll be doing so (tomorrow, perhaps?*) * aka later today!
I find Deitch’s art, by which I’m mainly referring to his Record Changer and jazz related cartoons, design and illustration work, really inspiring. His mainstream animation stuff I’m much less familiar with or aware of.
But, rather madly, I’ve discovered that Deitch was also involved with one of the earliest screen adaptations of Tolkien’s writings. I love Tolkien, and I was really quite surprised to find yet another point of connection here with Gene Deitch!
As with Munro, I’ve yet to watch this Hobbit based animation. I glanced at a minute or so of it, whilst drafting this post. It seems quite a loose adaptation! But I look forward to watching it in full.
We just got back home, from childminding duties at my sister’s. As we occasionally do, we stayed a second night. I was exhausted after an evening shift delivering for Amazon, and then sharing a bottle of wine with Teresa and Hannah.
Amazon were taking the piss royally yesterday, on two fronts: first I arrived a few minutes late (2-3, or thereabouts) for a midday shift. The crappy Flex app then proceed to load so slowly that by the time it was up and running I’d ‘missed your [my!] slot’!
So I returned later the same day, and did an evening sesh. I try not to do these, on account of it being harder and more stressful in the dark of winter evenings/nights. And herein was the second Amazon piss-take:
Actually this was a double-barrelled piss fest: first I had an order ‘to be delivered no later than 4pm’. Yet it was the second delivery of about eight or so, and I didn’t start collecting the items, never mind delivering them, until 4pm, when my shift officially commenced!
I told the recipient that I’d have bent the laws of physics to deliver to him by 4pm, if it lay within my powers. And, if he was unhappy – fortunately he was a jovial and understanding chap, and was absolutely fine – please take it up with Amazon, and don’t blame me!
But the real piss take the second, was the sheer distances they had me travelling. I started in Cambourne, then went to Royston, then Potton, then Sandy, then home. I reckon that the fuel costs of this run will prob’ have accounted for half my earnings.
Lobster, a very hirsute, handsome and charming chap!
But my main prompt for this post was returning to our frigidarium home. Our car was plenty warm en-route home. With two of us in the the confines of a little MX5, plus the car heating, we were very cosy. The house was 8°C, according to our wall mounted central-heating doodad (thermostat/controller?).
The pic atop this post is how I got myself up to brave a trip to our littlest room! Which used to be an outside privy, when the house was built. And today feels like it still is! I was worried my bowels would refuse to open, so damn chilly was it!
I’m now enjoying that most plebeian of pleasures, a pot noodle. Pornography for the palette, granted. But warm and flavoursome. It maketh me happy!
I knew it! Or, rather, it’s what I wanted to believe. And, in all honesty, this study seems so small as to be of questionable scientific merit. But it’s in line with my confirmation bias, so I’m running with it!
Anyway, I doubt anything would stop Teresa and I chatting in our baby-ish ways with our cats. We did it with Tigger, now we’re doing it with Chester. It’s natural! We love it. And, so it seems, so does he.
