DAYS OUT: Interaction, In Traction

Wow!

Driving home from my shift today, I spotted this, in some (rich/lucky?) person’s driveway.

And what a lovely setting.

I think the traction engine belongs to the more modern house, just out of view above, and behind in the shot below.

Bostock & Wombwell’s Gigantic Combination.
An amazing and an humungous beast.
Goes by the name of Nero.

Does he/she fiddle, while Rome burns?

Fab seat, in the ‘up’ position.
Mightily impressive.
Note the mirror like sheen!
Made in Thetford. Fairly local.
This wheel’s nearly as tall as me!
The front end ‘bobbin’.

This sighting kind of made my delivery day. Which in other respects – although the weather was mostly amicable – was a little dull.

Bostock & Wombwell’s Gigantic Enterprise.

Intriguingly it’s a ‘Combination! on one side, and an ‘Enterprise’ on t’other. Wonder why that is?

DAYS OUT: Cambridge, The Fitz, etc.

Love these angels on the angles.

My delivery shift today was in Cambridge. So I took the opportunity, once finished, to park in town, and visit The Fitz, for another look at their current William Blake show.

Our previous visit was great. But not sufficient to properly take it all in. On the walk from the car park to The Fitz, there’s loads of triffick architecture. Here are a few snaps:

Sedgwick Museum of Earth Sciences.
Corner of Pembroke College.
Pembroke. Fab’ portal.
Funky ‘60s style dude, on a lamp-post!
Now that’s a door!

The above door is opposite Pembroke. I’m not sure which College it belongs to. I’m assuming it’s part of the all powerful University? Could it be part of the Whipple Museum of the History of Science? I don’t think it’s part of the Museum of Zoology…

Pembroke College. Magnificent!
More of those corner Angel details.
Zooming in a bit.
The grand Pembroke archway details.
Amazing! Pembroke ‘digs’.
More Pembroke accommodation.

We love the chimney stack along this road. So grand, and yet so much a thing of their times.

Beautiful!

And so, to the Fitzwilliam Museum itself. First port of call, the subterranean toilet block. Just as I enter the latter, a stream of young foreign students exit, one of whom says ‘hello!’, in a rather impish manner. Young scamps!

This chap’s on guard near the lavs.

The above sculpture is placed just outside the loos. Wonder what the subject would make of his situation now?

Love this!

I love the (?) ceramics. And I’ve had numerous postcards of his work over the years. I may even have a wee book (poss’ from the Shire series?) or summat like it, on him? I hadn’t realised that this particular design was slightly 3-D!

A chilled looking Bodhisattva.

The above is a wooden Bodhisattva. Looking very relaxed, despite missing his right hand and poss also his right foot.

You’re not wrong, Billy. Beauty is a necessity.

And finally, to the show itself… William Blake…

The Dantean Circle of the Lustful.

I took another snap o’ this ‘cause I am one of the Lustful. And I was intrigued by my Dantean Doom.

Version #1.

This pair of prints is interesting. Separated by many years, and based on the work of another artist, what I particularly like is how Blake develops the detail of the setting. Which is entirely his own contribution. The original source is the figure alone.

Version #2.

The exhibition as a whole is great for setting Blake in the context of his times, amongst his peers. And showing such things as the veneration of classicism in art education, at that period. How Blake reacts to it all over time is fascinating.

Europe, Supported by Africa & America.

There are some very intriguing prints in the show which illustrate Blake’s, erm… commercial illustration work. The above is one such. And it’s doubly fascinating, because it’s one of several he contributed to a work about slavery in British Guiana.

My wife’s family are from Guyana. A legacy of the slave trade, returned to British shores.

Blake was very much anti-slavery. Although the book for which this and other illustrations by him were commissioned wasn’t published as an anti-slavery work – the author (a former soldier) had been complicit in putting down slave results – it was adopted by the movement on account of its unvarnished accounts of the brutality of slavery.

Gillray’s Presages of the Millenium.

On leaving The Fitz, the eye is once again constantly arrested by architectural splendour and beauty.

Peterhouse chapel?
Emmanuel United Reformed Church.

In addition to the several Colleges along Trumpington St, there are many churches. Further into town it becomes Kings Parade, then Senate House Hill. All of which feel, to the pedestrian, like a single street.

If you take Great St. Mary’s, on Senate House Hill, as a start or end point, and work backwards towards the Fitz, there’s an ecclesiastical embarrassment of riches, including such jewels as King’s College Chapel, St Botolph’s, and the above pictured Emmanuel, which is right beside Little St. Mary’s, this last of which has an enchanting graveyard/garden.

Anti-Royal Republicanism lives!

I then met Teresa, at Heffers bookshop. Whilst waiting for her I had a brief look over this:

I bought a set of 10 Bill Blake postcards, from The Fitz. I’m massively tempted by two Blake books: the exhibition catalogue, and a Complete Illuminated Manuscripts.

And, as a final money-saving thought. Next time, Park & Ride and buses! Parking in The Grand Arcade cost me just under £10! Street parking opposite The Fitz is insanely expensive, at £7.20 per hour!

MiSC:

Hmm!?

Whilst tidying up I came across these scraps of paper. I’m going to archive anything worth keeping digitally, and bin ‘em! All part of the de-cluttering process.

Legs… at eleven.
Funky little pictogram, from way back, in ‘95!

HEALTH & WELLBEiNG: Addiction

Today I had a blip. Or a relapse. In fact I’ve had two, as I had one yesterday, as well. Yesterday, I had a bottle of this:

Lovely. But no good for me, alas.

I posted about enjoying this tipple back in August of ‘23. But, for better or worse, I’ve become someone for whom, it would seem, any alcohol is a bad idea.

And I’ve been practicing this realisation pretty well. Being tee-total for about four months solid now. And that span of time would be quite a bit longer, except for a previous relapse.

The thing is, booze disinhibits, and leads me to other foolishness. But I’m not going to dwell on any of that. Because I don’t want to empower it with the oxygen of attention.

Instead, I want to take this post as an opportunity to meditate more broadly on addictive behaviour across the board. I think I’m prone to addictive habits. And modern consumer culture exploits us all mercilessly, in this respect.

Books. A definite addiction.

I have, or have had, addictions to books, T-shirts, trainers, drums, guitars, books, tools, wood, art materials, toy soldiers, books, models, records, CDs, books and more. We sanitise and legitimise this behaviour as ‘collecting’.

More books… my biggest single addiction?

I think it’s high time I began a series of purges. I’ve been flirting with decluttering for a good long while now. But my most harmful addictions are telling me I need to address two themes very much addressed in strands of Buddhism:

Craving

Attachment

So, I’m going to take today’s disturbing alarums as a call to purgative action. Indeed, one of the ways I got through this difficult day was tidying up around our home. Nowhere near enough. But each little step in the right direction eventually adds up.

Sometimes I hold on to stuff thinking ‘I can sell that’. And I really ought to try harder, and actually sell a shitload of stuff. But I fear the time is long overdue to just give or throw stuff away. The clutter has to be defeated!

Two Hasegawa egg-planes, consigned to the bin.

I think the freedom gained by shedding stuff will far outweigh the loss of the stuff itself. This said, there have been times when I’ve regretted getting rid of stuff. But there are two things about that:

First, I should dial back my attachment to material things. Easy come, easy go. Second, most of the stuff I’ve got rid of, I either don’t miss, or I really oughtn’t.

MiSC: St. George’s Day

Raphael’s St George & the Dragon, c. 1505-6.

Today, April 23rd, is St George’s Day. Here in March it was celebrated early, over the last weekend. We had intended to go down to the event. But in the end we didn’t bother! Both too tired, alas.

The Glorification of St Felix and St Adauctus, Carlo Innocenzo Carlone.

The ‘facts’ of the supposed martyrdom of Felix and Audactus are, according to Wikipedia, ‘a legendary embellishment of a misunderstood inscription’. The Chinese whispers that underpin religious tradition, eh!?

Why do I jump from George to Felix and co? Because the latter are thought to perhaps have some grounding in historical fact. Oh, and also because I like the Carlone painting.

To my mind all religion is the legendary embellishment of the misunderstood. It’s best hope of any connection with reality is as poetic metaphor.

DAYS OUT/MiSC: Waresley & Gamlingay; Peaks & Troughs

St. James The Great, Gamlingay.

Today was a bit of a struggle. I tried to book more work. But shifts there were none! Watched a bit of afternoon snooker. Fell asleep for about an hour.

Water pump.

As on a few other recent occasions, I felt steamroller flat. Like a dirigible that’s just been sat on by Mt Everest. Such levels of fatigue get to be depressing. I had a doc’ appointment (well, ‘nurse practitioner!). But nothing has been diagnosed.

Strange village erection.

Getting out for work is always something of a tonic, for cabin fever. But in addition to exhaustion, poverty is grindingly depressing. Bills went out today that took me over my overdraft limit. I spent a lot of this morning trying to sort money shit out.

A white Twix?

Oh dear, this is the kind of trivia that I sometimes loathe the interweb for! But… what can I say? Other than… a White Twix?

My delivery rounds finished in Gamlingay. So I took the opportunity to have a walk around St Mary The Virgin. Very impressive, externally. But shut, sadly.

She’s a whopper! Back end.

I’ve even applied for a ‘cost of living’ grant, online. I’ll be applying for Council Tax reduction as well. Grimly enervating soul destroying stuff!

Middle.

The first thing to really lift my spirits, as I drove around delivering today, was passing through the picturesque village of Waresley.

Front/Tower.

Then a bit later, I had a nice chat with a lady I delivered to in Gamlingay, about MX5s. She had a more modern one, with an electric collapsible hardtop. She also had a very stylish old home.

The view from where I parked.

And just down the street from this nice lady’s home, the enormous weighty pile that is St Mary The Virgin.

Big window, little window.
Looking back out from within.
One of numerous fab doors.

I had a saunter around the perimeter of this imposing edifice. And whilst doing so fell in with a very nice tweedy gentleman, who was walking what I assume was either his daughter or granddaughter.

Mightily impressive. Mixing materials.

He made some interestingly jocular remarks about my interest in the church, inc. an allusion to lead thievery. To which I riposted with something about it being the only affordable source of lead for my toy soldiers, which he liked.

An even funkier door.

These delivery rounds interactions can, as they were today, be quite pleasant. All of which helped pull me out of a mire of exhausted poverty-stricken maudlin ruminating.

The main entrance.

We agreed what a shame church vandalism and theft are. And I lamented that this church has always been closed when I’ve tried to view it. The little girl – a blond pig-tailed sweetie – then piped up about it only being open on Sundays.

Porch and tower, from the graveyard.

I told her I’d had something of a falling out with God, and generally avoided calling at his house when he might be in. I wonder what she made of that? I really liked them, and they seemed pleased with me!

Just lovely.

All of which reminds me of a quote I recently read, that was attributed to Kurt Vonnegut, about the pleasures of puttering about. Indeed, Kurt! You are spot on. Who know what little gems of experience life has in store for us?

Signs of conservation, on the columns and pointing.
Groovy little n’ large combo again.

I ought also to mention that I briefly dropped in on Dad and co, in Hardwick, before starting work. They very kindly took receipt of some Freecycle wood/glass doors I’d been given, for me to collect. Which I did.

Cute little door.
Big stained glass window. Reflected light.

I’d love to get inside St Mary The Virgin (snigger, chortle, etc), and see this window from t’other side. Another time, perhaps?

HOME/MiSC: Bonfire of Bullshit…

A satisfying pagan ritual.

Every now and again, rather than shredding old paperwork (I had a shredder once, but it broke down eventually), I like to burn it.

Ok, it takes a bit longer than other disposal methods. But it’s far more satisfying. And probably more secure as well.

Ashes to ashes…

The most satisfying things to be burnt on this occasion were: stuff from our failed IVF treatment programmes, and the bumpf around my recent court case.

May it Burn in Hell, that Bastard Bullshit!

MUSiC/MEDiA: Michael Cuscuna, 1948-2024, R.I.P.

Started out as a drummer!

This obituary just popped up in my FB feed. Another legend from the world of Jazz leaves the earthly jam session.

Michael Cuscuna, best known for his work on the Blue Note catalogue, and as co-founder of DeLuxe reissue imprint Mosaic, died yesterday, aged 75.

Read more about Cuscuna’s life in Jazz in this Downbeat feature.

I’m chuffed to read that he started out as a drummer (and also apparently played sax and flute!), as one myself.

Cuscuna, Bearsville Studio, Woodstock, 1972

This quote from Cuscuna pops up here and there on the web:

I remember once I was doing a record with Dexter Gordon at 30th Street called Gotham City, and Art Blakey was on drums. During the session Art looked at me and said, ‘Man, you remind me of Alfred Lion.’ That was the greatest line I ever heard, you know?

This puts me in mind of something Tolkien has Faramir say to Sam, in The Lord of The Rings: ‘The praise of the praiseworthy is above all reward’. Indeed. Well, Cuscuna must’ve felt, in that moment, that he’d achieved something worthwhile.

DAYS iN & OUT: Cutting Up Waste Wood, ‘Fixing’ Fence, etc.

After; still not quite there yet, but much better.

There’s been an old broken door and various bits of wood, lying around looking ‘orribly messy in this spot, over the autumn and winter.

Before; remains of a door.
Messy and nearly empty woodpile.

I chopped it all up for the woodpile today. The woodpile has gone from almost totally empty to nearly full. Result! This also frees up space to work on finishing the pond.

A beautiful Robin, spying on my work.

We think the Robin in the above picture may be nesting nearby. He keeps popping back to this spot. Hunting and catching insects, admiring my tidying, and keeping a beady eye or two on us. Bless him!

LUNCH BREAK

After a quick dump, or rather, trip to the dump, to get rid of some junky bits of ‘wood’, I came home to lunch in the garden with Teresa. A boiger!

Burger off…
Mmm… Red Leicester and sweet chilli sauce.

Next job, fix some sagging fencing. This ought to be our neighbours’ responsibility. It’s their fence. There are some other parts of the fence that are as bad, or worse. They’ll need attending to in dew coarse.

A temporary bodge on some dodgy fencing.
Before (post is just leaning on fence!).
Riding my sawhorse, chopping out an angle.
Much better!

Look very carefully at the above pic’. Maybe zoom in on it… whaddya see? It’s our little red-chested avian friend. Perched on the post.

Our little pal checking out my work.

He actually landed on the post right after I’d finished putting in the last screw. Like a wee red-breasted foreman, making sure I’d done the job to his satisfaction! I didn’t think I’d caught that moment. But in fact I did!

We reckon he’s nesting t’other side o’ the fence. We can hear the shrill clamour of his bairns. Bless ‘em!

Fixing the honeysuckle trellis.

One section of trellis that’s got honeysuckle growing on it (thanks, mum!) was starting to fall to bits. So I secured it better to the fence beneath (above). And, along the end that was coming apart, I screwed all the members together (below).

All these joints were coming apart.

I secured this trellis panel using recycled fixtures that came off the knackered old fence-post, repurposed above as a prop, where the neighbours fence was caving in.

The wisteria coming back to life.

Spring is still a little chilly. But the sunshine and new growth makes it all glorious.