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HOME: Malfunctioning Gas Hob Ignition

World’s best most exciting photo… ever!

Oh, but when it rains, it doth pour, eh? Today our gas hob suddenly decided to start clicking constantly, which I suppose is a continual triggering of the ignition(s)?

Sometimes all four hobs were sparking continually, sometimes one or another. But the clicking was, more or less, constant, from around midday or lunchtime, till now (9pm)

Of course I first tried solving it myself. This has happened once before. On that occasion I switched off everything (electric and gas*), and cleaned all the hobs. Cleaning can involve liquids, and liquids can short the spark circuitry! But I got everything as dry as I could. And, lo! Everything worked just fine.

* Or so I thought! Turns out I only knew how to switch the gas off for the hobs. The fuse on the main fuse board only switches off the oven and grill, not the hobs! More on this shortly.

Did the same this time, albeit ultimately spending much, much, much more time cleaning, but no dice. No change whatsoever! Clicking and firing continued unabated. Every now and again it’d lessen or stop. Only to start all over again.

World’s most thrilling video… awesome!

Anyway, having gone back and forth, Googling the issue, and trying very hard to really clean out all the parts – the hobs comprise three components, plus the little (ceramic?) ignition ‘nipples’ – hoping it all might eventually dry out or summat, and stop firing, it was all to no avail.

I called a Gas Safe engineer at about 8.30pm. He arrived around 9.20pm. He determined we had no gas leaks. He also helped me identify the correct power socket for the hobs. I thought I’d done so. But apparently not. Whatever it was I’d found, it was the wrong power outlet!

Once the right power source had been identified, it became apparent that it did (the other lead/wall socket didn’t) have a switch. Mercifully, when this was flipped, the eternal and infernal clicking finally stopped.

I have strong memories of recently packing away another four-hob cooker top. I think with a view to eventually installing it in our mooted Hobbit Hole guest accommodation? I tried to locate that today. But failed! We have way too much stuff, and way too little storage, so most of our stuff is in a cluttered state of disarray.

I wonder, should I find it, would it even fit?

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HOME & GARDEN/HEALTH & WELLBEiNG: Bad/Good Friday!?

Out in the garden. Lovely day!

Phew! What a bonkers day. I had another meltdown today. Outright panick is starting to kick in, occasionally. Not good!

A brief break from home and ‘my shit’ seems a basic medical necessity to me, right now. But our one night away, that we’ve been looking for’ard to for a while (to join in the celebrations of Teresa’s cousin’s wedding), Monday/Tuesday next week, has – like all our other forlorn attempts at holidays in the last four-plus years – fallen through. This time due to not having a road legal car available.

Quite aside from the crap that’s at the root of recent depressions, meltdowns and whatnot, the trip away issues are enough right now to send me über the edge. But sadly communications with my mum have been less than ideal for some time. And, on occasion recently, have gotten worse.

Ouch! Two very sore toes…

This last development, in a series of straws that have been conspiring to break this camel’s back, really knocked the stuffing out of me. And today that, and the failure to find a way to get to this wedding – plus everything else, frankly – just got to be too much.

So I had a bit of meltdown! Shouting, or rather screaming, as loud as I could, and hurling stuff around. Oh dear! In fact I’ve injured my right foot. Something I only realised much later, when having a bath: ‘Oh, right… that’s why my right foot has been feeling a bit odd all day!?’ I must’ve kicked something quite hard!

Perhaps my recent minor dalliance with Tears For Fears, via Scary Pockets sublime reworking of Everybody Wants A Gladstone Bag, has a deeper meaning for me? They were big into Papa Panov, or whatever his name was (Janov?), the Primal Scream dude. Hence Shout:

Well, having vented a bit, and despite all the shizzle not going away, Teresa and I got a fair amount done. We were originally due to be at Hannah’s today. Whilst we’ve loved and will miss looking after Ali and Sofi – Hannah starts a new job soon, with different hours – being at home this time was actually good from several perspectives, including the vantage point of just getting stuff done.

Utterly against my wishes, we’re preparing to let our spare room. Because needs must. It has functioned mostly as a dumping ground in recent years. Occasionally I’ve done some model-making type hobby stuff in there. But now we’re clearing it out, tarting it up. And, hopefully (!?)* we’ll be generating income with it soon.

* The irony here being that I really don’t to be sharing our home with strangers. But as already stated, needs must.

In order to blitz the guest or blue room clean – numerous previous attempts had failed! – I had to basically do a mega-dump (chortle!), out of it, and into any space nearby. Which meant dumping tons of stuff on the bed, in our bedroom. The blue room is still full of stuff that needs removing before we can think of letting it.

We put up some art, and a mirror.

Anyway, we got a lot of stuff out of the blue room, and a good deal of that either up in’t loft, or elsewhere. A fairly large chunk of art related gubbins is migrating towards the ‘new’ art-studio.

This latter is in fact the old shed/workshop. And it’s humongously cluttered, and in flux, as stuff is moved out, in turn, to the newer bigger workshop.

Teresa n’ Chester enjoy quality time, dans le jardin.
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ART/HEALTH & WELLBEING: Home Alone, Bed- & Book-bound

A fabulous book.

Today I’m mostly confined to bed. By my own decree. Teresa’s at work. And I am on Easter break. Although it may be a bigger hiatus? That’s partly why I’m in bed!

I woke when Teresa got up, at 5.30am (mad!). But most of the time between about 9am and 3pm I’ve been in a 50/50 mix of resting/dozing, and outright sleeping. Snooker, with Kieran Wilson thrashing Ali Carter, on the Tour Championship, is helping on all fronts with rest and sleep!

An ornery mule, with an artist’s soul.

But around 2pm, after a second long chat with the alphabet soup brigade (the bouillabaisse of acronyms for mental-health organisations), I felt I needed an injection of culture and inspiration. So I hoyked a few art books off the shelves.

Angst meets beauty, in mixed media on canvas.

Having resumed a long derelict interest in making art, I thought I’d also resume the act of feeding on the soul food that art can be. Hence getting these tomes offa the shelves. Turner and The Sea, Guston, and de Kooning. Endless hours of fun and nourishment!

Not so eyebrow, n’est ce pas!?

And to keep my furrowed brows at the correct elevation, something a bit ‘Felix’ lighter!

No-brow? Love the Tintin style cover!

And of course, Viz. Thanks to the Viz Team I nearly died laughing last night.

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ART: Another Old Series…

This series, in one pic.

This little series of miniature abstracts was born of spell of mental ill health. I hate that phrase, and I don’t think it really accurately captures what I was going through. But anyway, whatevs, as they say these days!

I was, rather amazingly, prescribed a short series of therapeutic art classes. As is so often the way with me, ornery curmudgeon that I am, I didn’t play by the rules – adopts Saxondale manner – this lone wolf rides to the tune of a different drummer (face-slap!).

My raison-ing was that, given I’m already a trained, even professional (occasionally!) artist, I didn’t need to do the ABC type stuff my group was doing. I just needed a quiet corner in which to pursue already established trajectories. Fortunately I was allowed to do just that.

The net results were this little serious of four mini-abstractions. They began life as an evolution from sketches of a stained glass window. In fact somewhere I’ve got an image I really like, showing how these little artworks evolved. I’ll stick that up here if I can find it!

To those with a bit of art or art history knowledge, some of my influences might be discernible? Perhaps ironically the single greatest influence on my own art isn’t really obvious in these series. That’d be Picasso. More on his influence to follow!

Some of the major influences on this approach, however, are Willem de Kooning, Philip Guston, and to a much lesser extent, some of Brice Marden’s linear stuff. There’s even a bit of Georg Baselitz in there (thanks to the influence of an old – and much missed – pal, Ben Carter). And then there are less obvious folk, like Turner, and even Caspar David Friedrich.

These aren’t the best photos. You can see the shadow of my head on them! It’d be nice to have much better lit and positioned photographs, but these’ll have to do for now!

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HEALTH & WELLBEING: Do I have an ‘addictive personality’?

To my mind, the short answer to the question posed in the title of this post is a short and resounding yes!

However, apparently much of the science says otherwise: ‘Fundamentally, the idea of a general addictive personality is a myth. Research finds no universal character traits that are common to all addicted people.’ [1]

Anyway, I’ve suddenly collapsed into a near vegetative state of depression, over the last few months. Some of the reasons are perennial (lack of money), others more singular (least said, soonest mended).

Amidst all of this, I’ve relapsed into few behaviours (I’m sounding like an amateur naturist, er… naturalist, now) that seem, outwardly, very aulde. One of the common denominators to all these behaviours, is addiction.

And some of the things that characterise the kind of addiction I’m talking about: firstly they compel one to act in ways one knows are foolish and high risk, and two, there’s a kind of hollow joylessness to whatever the indulgence might me.

On that latter point, it has to be said that things aren’t really as cut and dried as that idea might imply. Pleasure can be and is taken in the addictive behaviours. But there’s an underlying sense, sometimes even when unquestionably enjoying the addictive behaviour, that one is acting foolishly.

Why should it be this way? And what makes certain things so compelling that they hijack one’s better judgement? This post isn’t an attempt to really answer such questions. In truth it’s more the sudden realisation that I’ve got some possible addiction ‘issues’ I need to acknowledge and work on.

Looking at all the textual images in this post, which I pulled from the Google image search results for ‘addictive personality’, they almost all apply. Perhaps unsurprisingly?

I’d say that for me there are two or three chief drivers when it comes to most of my addictions: pleasure, relaxation and escape. And the leaning into these behaviours is exacerbated in times of high stress – such as presently – by the desire to reduce or mitigate it.

I like to use my blog as a somewhat candid journal. But it’s neither an outright confessional, nor the best place to air dirty laundry that might best be addressed professionally.

On this last topic, however, I feel I’m being let down in a pretty big way, by the alphabet soup of acronym-heavy mental-health organisations I’ve been alerted to. It’s all pillar to post Groundhog Day assessments, and nary any actual support!

Whisky…

Having inferred above that here is not the place to go into the gory details of specific addictions, I will use one relatively innocuous seeming but actually very insidious example, namely spending.

My re-formulation of Descartes famous dictum, for our times, runs thus ‘I spend therefore I am’. One of histories’ greatest dictators, the unholy axis of capitalism and materialism, has marched into and annexed almost every conceivable aspect of modern life.

And I will often attempt to spend my way out of obscurity and depression with anything from a Gregg’s pizza slice to a book, CD, clothes or shoes.

NOTES

  • [1] https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-addictive-personality-isn-t-what-you-think-it-is/
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SNOOKER: Madness (& Planning)

Jurassic Park!

It’s an incredibly rare occasion that I’m aware of snooker events before they occur. As I become more of an ardent fan of the sport – a veritable green baize junkie? – perhaps this first will become more of a norm?

Anyway, whilst catching up on my FB news feed (Paul O’Grady has died, aged 67!), I learned that the next snooker World Championship ‘takes place from 15 April to 1 May at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield.’

It seems, according to the article that informed me of this, that this year we’ll see an influx of geriatric male stars – Hendry, White and Doherty, specifically – and several female contestants.

Could be interesting. But I’m glad that for once I’m aware of the event before and not after it’s started (or, at best previously, whilst it’s on). In the meantime my quest for the classic matches of yesteryear continues.

I kind of fancy going really old school, and watching a ‘Hirricane’ Huggins match, or maybe even that Davis vs. Taylor black ball one… Hmmm!?

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SCRABBLE: Teresa’s Triple Triumph!!!

5 o’clock, and all is well!

We just finished what was probably one our quickest games of Scrabble a moment ago. And it marks a trio of triumphs for Teresa! Three times straight in a row, she’s beaten me.

We both love Scrabble, and mostly for the fun of finding the words, as opposed to winning or losing. Which makes it very relaxing and pleasurable.

That said, I think Teresa’s head has grown a bit since scoring her triple trouncing of yours truly.

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REVELATiON: Am I A Misanthrope?

The Misanthrope, Pieter Brueghel the Elder, 1568.

I’ve described myself to some folk, over the years, as a misanthrope. I’ve always done so out of a vague notion of what that means. So I decided to look it up today.

I find that the Wikipedia entry on Misanthropy resonates with me in many, albeit not all, particulars.

One typically assumes that most folk would view misanthropy with scorn and disdain, as it’s not an obviously positive or helpful outlook. And that’s the kind of view of the outlook or philosophy portrayed by the Brueghel painting above.

One of the chief areas in which I might not be a misanthrope is in relation to sex; apparently many misanthropes are antinatalist. Well, I can see that humanity is somewhat overstocked, which appears to adversely effecting the planet and everything in it (inc. ironically, humanity itself!).

But like nice wine, sex – whether for reproduction or just plain fun – is one of our few solaces. So I’m all for lots of it, whether it produces offspring or not. Though I feel compelled to confess that the misanthrope in me does wish that there were a lot less humans on the planet.

And now, having read most of the Wikipedia entry on Misanthropy? I actually feel more not less inclined to self identify in that manner.

PS – The inscription at the bottom of Brueghel’s painting reads (acc. to Wikipedia): 

Om dat de werelt is soe ongetru, Daer om gha ic in den ru

‘Because the world is perfidious, I am going into mourning’

Brueghel’s painting suggests this makes the misanthrope a fool. He’s having his purse pinched by a figure representing vanity, and is blindly walking into some ‘caltrops’ (little spiky things humans invented, with which to hurt each other, lame horses with, etc. *). Meanwhile a shepherd in the background contrasts with the misanthrope by humbly going about his business.

* Aren’t we a delightful species!

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HEALTH & WELLBEiNG: Weather in My Head / Window to The Soul

The weather right now, as I’m typing this post, is cold, windy, and raining. Perfectly reflecting my spirits.

Or is it?

It was sunny 30 minutes ago. And, perhaps rather astonishingly, it’s going that way again. The rain has stopped. But the dripping continues. And the visible part of the sky, from where I’m laying down, is a clean pure brilliant blue. I imagine there’s a beautiful rainbow to be seen somewhere. Wish I could see it!

That little passing cloudburst reminded me of the Donald Fagen Sunken Condos track/lyric, The Weather In My Head.

I guess I ought to take solace in how quickly that little cold wet blast lasted? So now the Dear Prudence lyric seems more apt: ‘The sun is out, the sky is blue, it’s beautiful, and so are you…’. Much better!

But that said, although my mood is fluctuating a lot. The dark clouds in my mind seem to hang about much longer than those that are currently scudding through the skies.