Seb Palmer

When you do DIY, esp’ as an amateur/newbie, you’re always making mistakes and learning. Well, I am.

We need to build some storage stuff in The Blue Room, which is our guest room. We’ll be letting it out to our brother in law, Antonio, very soon.

So we don’t have long to do this work!

In order to construct a built-in wardrobe cum whatever it’s going to be – clothing storage, essentially – I didn’t want the coving interfering with construction.

I watched a few YouTube vids of folk removing coving. And of course, they made it look super easy. I find that whenever I do this sort of thing, other unforeseen factors come to bear.

So, for example, the main video I watched, whose technique I used, was in a more modern house. And it looks like the coving wasn’t super-strongly attached. I used the same technique; a rubber mallet and a flat scraper type thing, hammered ‘twixt coving and walls/ceiling, to prise them apart.

But I needed to use far for more force to get them to separate. And instead of the coving coming away in long complete sections, it would break into smaller pieces. But the worst thing was, that unlike the stuff in the video, where wall and ceiling meet in a nice neat 90° angle, in our home the coving covers yawning and very messy chasms, ‘twixt wall n’ ceiling!

And not only that, but an absolute ton of really disgusting dirt, debris and very fine dust was sat in the hollow area – usually an empty void – behind the coving. This has coated the entire room in a fine layer of cack!

With a mask on, and using dustpan & brush, hoover, etc, I managed to clear up the area below where I was working. The next step will be buying and mixing what the Yanks call ‘mud’, known here as plaster.

But I’ll need to further clean up the voids, and I might even need to put up some plaster board or wood, to fill the empty spaces. Trying to do it with ‘mud’ alone would probably require several layers being built up. And we don’t have time for that.

This is of course massively annoying, because it is all prior to the actual construction of the wooden shelves and whatnot. I.e. the actual storage space I was trying to create. It’s these sort of unforeseen things that seem to constantly bedevil any and all DIY that I attempt.

In the photo at the top of this post you can see that on the left I took away all the coving. Whilst on the right I only went as far forward as the unit I’m building requires. I prob should’ve done the latter on the former. But you live and learn! Plus I still have left-over bits of coving I took down. Poss even enough to do the bit that’ll need re-installing?

Tomorrow we’ll head to B&Q, get some mud, and some framing timber, etc. Who knows, I may even have the carcassing done by the end of the Easter weekend?

Actually… thinking of tomorrow, it’d be good to get all the waste from the box and laurel bushes to the dump, and post the LPA docs as well. Must remember all these things!

I decided to go to Wisbech, specifically to Peckover House, and sit and read a bit there, in their rather more salubrious surroundings. So I did.

I’d been trying, without success, all day long, to book some work. But in a way I was happy none came up. I was shattered, and still needed to start recovering from the psychological exhaustion of yesterday’s events.

There are many lovely old buildings – possibly mostly Georgian era? – on North Brink, which runs along the north bank of the river Nene, in Wisbech. And there are lots of lovely little details, such as the cute built-in bird houses in the above photo.

I walked from a car park, north of North Brink, adjacent to Wisbech RUFC grounds. And saw all the above en-route to Peckover House. The weather was a bit cold and windy. But also occasionally sunny, at this point.

It started to cloud over whilst I sat indoors, reading. I moved from room to room, as I finished another segment or chapter of Big Week (an excellent book!).

I love the area around the upper reaches of the hall, landing, a s stairs. Lots of very grand and ornate plaster work!

I love the pale blue walls against the cream coloured plasterwork.

I sat on a chair at the top of the landing, which looks out to wards the gardens at the rear of the property. A lovely spot. Rather spoiled at one point by a workman with a very loud pneumatic nail-gun!

Looking out: this – above – was the view from where I was sat. Absolutely lovely.

I moved rooms again, after a while…

I’m wondering if any online search tools might help me find a close match for the above patterned fabric… we shall soon see.

There was an exhibition by a local artist. But I wasn’t too taken with that, to be honest. And of the art in the house itself, whilst there’s an awful lot, not a great deal of it is that good. I do like this little Dutch landscape sketch.

It was lovely, as ever, to visit. Many NT properties have what I find to be a refreshing reinvigorating affect, on me. And the book I’m reading is great as well. A good combo’.

Back at the car it started pelting down with rain. My timing was good!

I don’t always like Charles Bukowski’s poetry and/or philosophy. I almost always admire and respect it. But it can be a bit dark and brutal at times. Mind you, so can life/the world. And as his poetry is a reflection of those things, I respect him for being a ‘soothsayer’!

This one cropped up in my FB feed today. And I really do dig it!

nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and /or die quietly
inside.

nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don’t, don’t, don’t.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?

nobody can save you but
yourself
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.

think about it.
think about saving your self.
your spiritual self.
your gut self.
your singing magical self and
your beautiful self.
save it.
don’t join the dead-in-spirit.

maintain your self
with humor and grace
and finally
if necessary
wager your self as you struggle,
damn the odds, damn
the price.

only you can save your
self.

do it! do it!

then you’ll know exactly what
I am talking about.

Acc. to the interweb this is taken from Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way, 2002

It’s interesting, to me, that he remained an unapologetic and determined smoker, drinker, and womaniser. From these perspectives, he might say that I’m already one of the zombies, the walking dead.

And I do find that a disturbing possibility, or challenge. Has life already beaten me into submission? I have very often thought so. Or am I just being sensible?

Lyrics by Sting and Beck leap to mind: ‘I’ve spent too many years/ at war with myself/ my doctor has told me/ it’s no good for my health’, sang Mr Sumner. And Beck has sung about being ‘tired of fighting, fighting for a lost cause.’

So how does one square authenticity to one’s own ‘true’ self, and the zombie-fication inherent in much of our contemporary society? I’d have to agree with Chuck B, that, at the very least/best, it’s a damnably tough fight!

This arrived in the morning’s mail. Fab! I’ll be listening to it as soon as…

In the end, it wasn’t until much later, that I got a chance to start listening to this. And so far I’ve only delved into some of the first album collated here, Look Out. But it’s a promising start!

For quality of music this is five star fare. I dock half a star for the reissue mastering. The sound isn’t bad, per se. But the overall mix level is rather low. So as it goes from another CD to this one, there’s a very notable drop in volume.

It’s 5.30 am, and I’ve been awake already, albeit drifting in and out of sleep, for a couple of hours. But overall I’ve had a good nights sleep.

I seem to be settling into a new pattern, of going to bed and waking up earlier. I generally turn in anytime between 7.30-10 pm (usually about 8-8.30’ish), and wake around 5.30-6 am.

But this post isn’t really about sleep habits. Rather, it’s chiefly about something that’s been hanging over me, like the Sword of Damocles – or that big swinging cleaver in The Pit & The Pendulum! – for just over fourteen months.

I haven’t felt able to talk about it publicly, my analogy being that it’s rather like – pardon the crudeness – sh*tt*ng one’s pants. Not that I’ve done that, btw! But if one did, it’s not news to loudly trumpet far and wide.

Indeed, in relation to what I’ve been through, recently, the saying ‘least said, soonest mended’ seems fairly apt.

Part of the reason I’m finally putting something about it into the public sphere (if my blog can be considered in that light?) is that I’ve been under this awful duress for so long, I’m wondering how long it’ll take to come out of it.

For now I’m not going to go into any great detail. All I will say, is that a false accusation was made against me, which had a catastrophic effect on my then career, as a music teacher, and my mental health. I twice attempted to hang myself.

I was charged with a crime I didn’t commit, and – after fourteen months of agony – yesterday I had my day in court. Neither the complainant – my accuser – nor either of the two chief/alleged ‘witnesses’ bothered to appear at court.

My case was dismissed. Partly for lack of evidence; CCTV footage allegedly recording my supposed offence didn’t, in fact, show anything. And partly due to the no show of those who had made the accusation against me.

If I was single, I’m pretty sure I’d be pursuing a Civil Case for Defamation now. I did discuss this with, Charlotte, the solicitor who represented me. But Teresa is advising me to let it go, and put it all behind me. Which I think is probably very good advice.

It’s been enormously stressful and debilitating, living under the shadow of this for so long. Do I really want to prolong all of that? I’m not ruling out seeking redress. But I think for my immediate recovery and well-being, it’s better that I look and move forwards, not rake over old muck.

I’ve struggled with depression since my mid-teens. For lots of different reasons. I think it may have started with social alienation as a schoolchild.

It was then compounded by what Robert Crumb has called My Troubles With Women. And grew worse when first psoriasis began (mid-teens), then my parents split up (late teens), and psoriatic arthritis was added to the brew (mid-twenties).

Anyway, in quite recent times a combination of a fairly stable domestic and work existence, along with medications that were ameliorating both my physical and mental ailments, I had become happy!

And then two things happened: I was summarily (and unfairly, I hold) dismissed from a teaching post. This was a position I’d held for four years. And I was fired by a new music head not yet even four months into the job (I wasn’t the only casualty of his axe).

Why? For not responding promptly enough to all of his emails! I might note that he, on occasion, didn’t respond at all to some of mine.

Had I been a proper employee of the school, a due process type procedure would’ve been set in motion. But peripatetic teachers such as me have almost no rights or safeguards whatsoever.

This event brought about a relapse into depression. And, to compound it all, I was out ‘drowning my sorrows’, at a local pub, with a neighbour, who I assumed was also a pal, when the events – non-events in truth, as the allegation was false – that lead to this fourteen-month nightmare transpired. Or rather didn’t, if you see what I mean!?

I remember it all so vividly. A Sunday afternoon; Teresa pleading with me not go out. In all of our time together, and especially since moving to March, I’ve very rarely gone to pubs without her, even more rarely with other folk.

And she never liked this particular neighbour anyway, seeing him – and hindsight rather vindicates her on this – as a bad influence on me.

I was saying ‘Honey, I need this; I just want to relax!’ Thinking, what possible harm could a pint or two with a local pal do? Well, it turns out it can be very harmful, to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There have been numerous outcomes of this whole horrible scenario. My career as a music teacher has – whether temporarily or permanently, I’m not sure yet – ended.

I wanted to stop teaching anyway. But most decidedly not under these circumstances! At least now I’m free to resume, should I want to. At present I don’t. But that may change.

Another outcome is that I’ve been working for around a year, or a bit longer, as an Amazon delivery driver. That hasn’t been ideal. But it’s been alright. I do, for the most part, actually enjoy it. It doesn’t pay well enough; less than half what I earned per hour, teaching. But it’s easier and less stressful. And I like being out and about.

As I’ve alluded to already, in the foregoing, I’ve been living under appalling stress caused by the false accusation, and it’s possible fall out, for so long – fourteen months – I’m not sure I can just ‘snap out’ of the patterns of anxiety that have been induced.

I’ve also gone tee-total. That’s taken a good while to come into effect. But I suppose it’s good for both my physical and mental health. And it’s also saving me money. I was drinking every day. And the fiscal costs alone were not good, given my generally straitened circumstances.

I think that about does it for this post. I’m not sure if should or shouldn’t be putting this out there? Part of the reason I’m doing so is to purge myself of it all.

Yesterday, after the judge refused an adjournment requested by the prosecution, and dismissed the case, for both lack of evidence and lack of anyone accusing or testifying against me, I felt immense relief.

Slowly, over the course of the day, that turned to joy. As I felt the weight lifted from me. We even went out to The Ivy, on Trinity Street, for a celebratory lunch. Which was lovely.

But this whole nightmare has really told on me. And I think recovery is going to take time.

Still, I’m grateful to Charlotte, my solicitor, for a job well done. And the Judge, Mrs Harrison, for a just – if horribly lengthily deferred – outcome. And Teresa and friends and family for emotional and practical support, through what may well have been one of the hardest episodes thus far in my life.

I’m not religious, but I feel compelled (by tradition and habit) to say, Thank God the nightmare is finally over. Now, please may I be permitted to resume a ‘normal’ life!?

Today I had a difficult moment. After owning and driving unleaded petrol cars all my life, Flo’, our new car, is diesel. This morning, around 6.15 am, muscle memory took over. And I put unleaded in Flo’s diesel tank.

The car conked out in Peterborough. Only three or four deliveries in to a morning Amazon delivery route. I’m with the RAC now (always AA, formerly), because they let me pay monthly DD. Rather annoyingly, I was left sat in the car till gone midday!

And not only that, if I’d have called these guys directly, it’d have cost ‘just’ £160. Doing it via the RAC I was charged £240! I’m totally broke, as ever. So this fleecing is not appreciated!

And not only did I spend £240 having the tank flushed. I’d also wasted £30 filling up with unleaded earlier. So that’s £270 flushed away.

Fortunately Flo’ seems to have come through this fine. The Fuel Doc’ guy says that’s the case 90% of the time nowadays. He also told me that, allegedly, on average this – mis-fuelling – happens about once every three minutes, in the UK.

I’ve now done two of those classic ‘I’ll never be dumb enough to do that’ things: locking my keys in the boot (MX5, a year or two back), and now this, filling up with the wrong fuel!

You live and learn thank goodness Flo’ came through it ok.

I had two Amazon delivery shifts: the first was mostly aborted, inevitably (all undelivered stuff returned to depot). The second I managed to complete, with no problems.

Phew… an expensive and quite stressful day. And the day before my ‘day in court’. Not the kind of prep you want for a potentially stressful occasion.

I watched the ninth and final episode of Masters of The Air today. Very good!

I also watched The Bloody 100th, an hour long documentary on the subject of the series. Also very, very good.

At the very end, one of the original airmen says: ‘The freedoms we enjoy were bought and paid for… the generation of WWII deserves to be remembered.’ I heartily concur!

Not only ought we remember the massive blood sacrifices made. We must sedulously guard what little social gains that profligate expenditure of blood bought, such as the NHS.

But, getting back to the series and the supporting documentary…

This final episode draws all the threads together, ranging from guys still flying to those who, one way or another, had to bale out, and make it home (or not) via German captivity, or other various routes.

When ‘Rosie’ and crew are too badly shot to to get home, he makes sure they get to airspace where they can bale out over Russian – or ‘friendly’ – territory. But it’s still an adventure fraught with risk.

Buck, Bucky, and many others, meanwhile, are in Kraut captivity. The drama of their bids for freedom is also highly exciting.

And then there’s the eventual ending. Which we all know must eventually come. And I think they handle this very, very well. It makes for one of the most poignant moments in the whole series.

I think it’s shame they didn’t make the series as big as BoB, or Pacific. But this was still excellent. And whilst it’s divided critics, I’m very glad it was made. And I enjoyed watching it.

The above was on the floor by the door when I got home. Along with this:

I’ve not had a chance to glisten to this last instalment of UWB goodness as yet. And I have other rather pressing things looming at present.

But as soon as time allows, I’ll be sure to let those good ol’ South’n Ca’lina boys medicine me with their musical magic.

The Last Willie n’ Testicles I’ll attend to in dew coarse… i.e. later.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER…

Ok, so ‘other things’ have blown over now. ‘So Long, Baby’ sing Uncle Walt’s Band. And that’s one of the several tracks on this compilation that aren’t on their other discs (even the expanded ones).

My God, these guys are great!!!

David Ball has several tracks on here that are the scaling the heights to become personal favourites, such as ‘Stay With The One’ and ‘Holding On’. Beautiful chordally and rhythmically and harmonically, with as much Jazz and Folk in them as Country. And gorgeous arrangements. Simple but effective.

One of their local contemporaries – I forget who now – said something along the lines of, ‘There are three great singers in Austin, and they’re all in the same band.’ Listening to this wonderful music it’s easy to think he wasn’t wrong.

I need to check with Omnivore, and co, but it seems there are drums on some tracks* (poss Walt’s sister?), and even the tracks that are duplicated between releases might be different versions… need to check if that’s the case, or not?

In the car I’m groovin’ with these hep cats, as they play ‘Gimme Some Skin’, whilst outside a cold but sunny day has turned to skate grey skies and heavy rain. And now I’m treated to another Anthology exclusive, ‘Whatever Reason’.

I think I like their rendition of One Meatball better than Ry Cooder’s. Ryland’s is ace, of course. But the vocals on the UWB version? Fabulous!

Then we return to the solid and familiar Walt gem ‘Shine On’, a great ode to keepin’ on keepin’ on, before hitting their latter day hit, ‘Getaway’. I think some director of a film or TV show used this number. And what a corker. The chorus is almost a calypso. It’s utterly lovely. It’s also a live performance, as well! Wonder if there’s a studio version?

This disc would be worth the asking price for this gem alone. But of course you get so much more. It’s a veritable treasure chest of rootsy booty.

Can’t recommend these guys highly enough. And the fact Lyle Lovett loves them so much makes me want to check him out more.

* There’s definitely a snare played with brushes on ‘Sitting On Top Of The World’.

I remember seeing the above record cover reproduced in another of my jazz album cover books. I love the mood it suggests, or creates.

Now, it may not be the hippest way to build a collection, but these ‘eight classic album’ type compilations at least put acquiring some of this great music within viable reach. Blue Hour is one of the eight on this set.

I think I’d like to create a couple of collections: one of as much of the music itself as I can get hold of; the other of framed prints of my favourite Blue Note album covers. The latter to be liberally put up around our home, and in the music room/office (and art studio?).

I didn’t do a ‘before’ shot, of just the Laurel, pre-prune. But you can see it in right back of the above pic’.

I’m finding it’s getting in the way of finishing the ponds, and maintenance on the green room frame. So it’s getting a drastic haircut. Laurels grow back really fast.

It’s also good, as it provides a change of view for the Spring. Teresa wasn’t happy about it tho’! But the. She almost never is when I do anything I consider improvements! But esp’ so re pruning.

What Teresa did want me to cut back, was the dead Box hedge. Box Blight has done for my little hedge. So sad! It was just about getting to be big enough to be shaped/trimmed.

I still need to dig out the roots, and get rid of them. But after that, what are we going to put in, in place of the dearly departed buxus? I want something with small leaves. So laurel is out. Privet, perhaps?

So, next thing is, I guess, tidy up what’s left (e.g. a bit more laurel pruning), and get the waste to the dump. That’ll have to wait for tomorrow.

I found doing this today utterly exhausting. Worryingly so. Hey ho… let’s hope some time soon this constant exhaustion will pass/cease?