Seb Palmer

I’ve long harboured a desire to make some replica flintlock (or whatever) type pistols. Aunt Margaret, in Harpenden, has a real pair. They’re fabulous!

I opened to a random page of The Book of The Gun, and started to read about a chap called Alexander Forsyth, a Scots clergyman who advanced firing technologies, back in the Georgian era. Fascinating stuff!

Earlier in the day, Teresa and I went for a walk, to see the High Street, in March. The roadworks there, which have been ongoing for about two years, are very nearly finished.

One of the last things the construction workers did was rebuild the cast-iron monument, pictured above. It’s now in a new off centre position. And it appears that something remains to be added (there’s an empty central space).

Like another similar bit of town planning – the car park on market square was totally rebuilt – the planning and execution are a bit odd.

Both developments lessen the overall amount of available parking in the town centre. Which I can’t imagine is very good for local commerce? And our local branch of Lloyds bank is closing down permanently tomorrow.

Anyway… why do I mention ennui? Well, a WhatsApp chat with dad and several siblings earlier today, left me severely depressed. Plus we have the errant kitten. And I’m just depressed generally, at present.

After a brief work shift – work is very good for me at present; simple, constructive, pleasant enough – I got home, sat in my favourite chair, and… well, did nothing.

I feel utterly spent. Washed out. With zero energy or motivation. Not a nice feeling!

I’ve been trying to get into Betjeman.

Quite possibly mostly on account of Rick Stein quoting or mentioning him so often. Teresa watches Stein most days!

So I bought this book, quite recently. It’s a collection of radio talks he did, broadcast on the BBC (of course!), from before during and just after WWII.

I’d have to say that I’m somewhat disappointed. Not totally surprisingly so, to be candid. He’s a dotty old duffer, for sure. C. S. Lewis, who tutored him at Oxford, called him ‘this idle prig’!

The first x chapters/talks are on provincial West Country towns. Then there’s a bunch on the loose theme of eccentrics. And I’m currently wading through a segment on religious folk.

I like poetry and the arts, and I’m interested in architecture, as Betjeman is, as a kind of index on our current cultural state. I share some of his views, on all of these things. But by no means all. Far from it!

Thanks to his poetic and linguistic skills, he occasionally puts things very nicely – or at least amusingly – such as when he describes London as ‘that vile octopus’.

But his rather wet almost effete old-fashioned tweediness can grate a bit, at times. And I find his very dewy-eyed conservatism in relation to Christianity pretty baffling.

Nevertheless, I’m glad I bought the book. And I am, on balance, enjoying reading it. I guess I ought to go to his poetry next? That’s possibly a better bet? We shall see…

The above, illustrated by David Genitalman, looks worth a punt. I think I also have this (somewhere?):

Gaah!!!

The kitten were supposed to be ‘trying out’ found a tiny hole I’d made, in our bedroom floor (to pass computer/tech-gubbins wires through) and went into it… entering the void between the downstairs ceiling and the upstairs floor.

And he’s been up there for a couple of days now. It’s doing our heads in. Mine especially, I think. We can hear and see him, thanks to a much larger hole in the downstairs ceiling. We’ve been trying to get him out.

We can’t reach him. So it’s a case of tempting him out with food and drink. In this game of cat and mouse, where we’re the cat, and he’s the mouse? Well… he’s winning.

*I don’t like taking photos with flash. But without flash you can barely see the little bastard.

This whole ridiculous imbroglio is keeping me awake nights. I just missed the sneaky wee fecker. I heard him surface for a drink of water. But the instant I moved he bolted back down the hole.

So I’ve rigged a trapdoor arrangement, with a length of wool. And I’ve moved the water a little further from the opening. If I hear him drinking again, I ‘simply’ (I wonder?) pull the string. And – hopefully? – he’s then trapped back inside our bedroom.

Yesterday Chester was more out than in. To the extent we got a bit worried. But he returned, in the end. Phew!

I cooked a basic bubble n squeak for lunch. Steamed broccoli, and a b&s of onions, bacon, baked taters, tomato, mushroom and parsley, fried in butter, with a bit of salt n’ pepper, some balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

Delish!

I continue to fiddle with the art studio model. Today I’ve started painting the base.

Simple pleasures:

It’s funny, only very recently I was lamenting the disappearance of this very brand of ginger beer from all the shops that I visit. And, lo, what doth appear at our local Sainsbury’s?

I only need to paint the single course of bricks, and touch up the lower edges of the shed/studio, and this little project is done.

We have a guest kitten staying with us, at present. To see if he and Chester might get on. The little tyke has already scratched me up a bit! But on a second attempt at handling – Teresa lovingly cleaned the sleep from his eyes – he calmed down.

We even showed him to Chester. And at first Chester seemed unperturbed. Purring away. But in moving them rather closer, Chester started hissing again (he’d done so earlier, before even seeing the kitten!). Hmmm!?

We both had a Chicken Tikka Masala tonight, at The Hippodrome. I had a Shipyard Ale, Teresa had a latté.

A few more pics of the Art Studio, inc. some internal/through the window jobbies:

The hinges aren’t working as fully and freely as I’d like (I can’t fully close any of the doors!). But they do give a bit of travel. It’s kind of fun trying to take snaps through the various ‘windows’.

The above pics were taken when I went out to get a temporary litter-tray for the kitten (a paint roller tub, thingy), and spotted this quite picturesque view of the current workshop/shed. This is the structure I’ll be demolishing to make way for the Art Studio.

This poor wee mite is hiding away. We have him upstairs for the night. Tried to get him out, and familiarise him with the new litter tray. But he freaked out and ran amok! Hmmm!? Is it going to work out?

I sincerely hope that by the end of three weeks worth of work on this, it’ll be done!? I just need to paint the internal door faces, and hang these two doors.

A little Health & Wellbeing footnote: I had two pints of beer/lager (Moretti), at the fireworks last night. This morning I feel fairly shite. Quite depressed. Is that a result of the drinks?

Rather annoyingly, the doors on this model don’t really work as intended. But never mind. Maybe if I ever do another similar project, I might do the doors better?

So, here are a few views with the roof on. I guess the model is, essentially, finished now? I could add interior detail – plan chest, easels, shelves, etc. But I think that’ll be something I’ll return to later (if at all?).

I’ve got a little painting to do: the brick foundation, concrete slab, etc. And I might add guttering. But the model is, for now, ‘completed’. Time to move on to something else.

This final snap is taken through one of the east face windows. And I like it! It’s nice to be able to visualise the interior.

I’m tempted to make claymation style Seb & Teresa figures, to go inside…

On this US election day, which – according to a news bulletin we just saw – looks likely to return über narcissist and known criminal, Donald Trump to the Presidency, I needed to remind myself that truth and beauty and goodness have also come out of the US.

Today I started work on the final major part of this model; a pair of patio style doors.

Being mostly glass, I decided to create them as a sandwich, with the central ‘filling’ being the plexi-glass.

These two doors still need some more framing (they are multiple pane affairs!). And hanging on hinges… gulp!

But it’s off to work, for now.

After work, and before dinner, I did manage to complete the framing on both doors. A lot of work! But fun, and worth the effort (I think?).

Teresa treated us to fireworks at Godmanchester. Which was lovely!

When we got home I carried on with the art studio ‘Paddy O’Dors’. Masking them up, undercoating, and getting a first layer of green on ‘em.

Hopefully tomorrow I can finish them?

Sadly, despite trying very hard to do the door successfully, it’s a failure.

I wanted it to open and close, for the hinges to actually work. But supergluing the nails/pins in place seems to have put the kibosh on that.

And in the process, I damaged the cladding. I fixed up that damage today.

Hey-ho, that’s just the way it go-eth, I guess? At least it looks alright.

Our first full day back home, after the barge experience. I’m painting the first of three doors. Look at those very cute little hinges!

I’ll prob’ do two coats of green, and poss’ the same number for the internal off-white face? Mounting this door will be interesting! The pins or nails supplied are too long for some of these mountings. They’d protrude!

I might have to do some kind of trial run, or mock up? As I don’t want to butcher the model at this stage. I’m also not sure how I’ll fix it in place. Poss’ I can cut the nails/pins down, and superglue them in situ’?

Do I have it opening internally or externally? The equivalent door on the old/original shed opens inwards. But this loses us precious internal space. I’d rather it opened outwards.

How then mount it? So the cladding doesn’t interfere with operations? Hmmm…

Rather annoyingly, if not unexpectedly, mounting the door hasn’t been straightforward. Just as with hanging a real door, it’s always tricky.

In this instance, the fixing points in the structural frame were above hollows, as opposed to being over/through structural beams. I’ve had to glue in blocks, for the pins to mount to.

And in doing so, a bit of damage has been done to some cladding. Hey-ho! It’ll just need patching up, I s’pose!? I’ve had to order new micro drill bits, as I can’t find any of my old ones.

After a leisurely and pleasurely mooch around the charity shops on Ely High St, where we picked up an item or two of clothing and some art books, we popped into Topping. Formerly my favourite bookshop in East Anglia. Poss’ even the UK?

Why formerly? Because I no longer feel welcome there. I shall relate today’s experience below. Sadly it’s not the first time I’ve left the shop thinking maybe I won’t go back.

On my very first visit to this in many ways splendid bookshop, I was offered a complimentary coffee. That was a great move on their part. For a few pennies outlay, they shot up in my (already very high) estimation – not just for the amazing selection of books they have – but for the friendly welcoming atmosphere.

Nowadays, when we visit, we might occasionally want to ask for a complimentary drink. But I feel that I ought not. Teresa always asks me to ask. But I don’t want to. Why? Because I feel we’re putting them out. I feel we are not welcome. Why do I feel that? Well…

I believe that I’m made to feel like a cheapskate interloper, for occasionally asking for a tea or coffee when we visit. When the complimentary drinks are their damn idea!

Is there an unwritten rule that for every request for a warm beverage I must buy at least one book?

Today’s visit included a request from Teresa that I ask for a drink. I flatly refused. She had to ask.

She’s already used their toilet. With no untoward effect. I went to do likewise. I’d normally ask at the counter. But there was nobody there. I encountered a lady member of staff en-route to the loo, and politely asked could I use their facilities (as I’ve done on many previous occasions).

No, I couldn’t, as that’s whither she was bound. So I stood outside in the corridor. Waited for her to finish, and then went in. She told me it was a staff loo. I said I’d been allowed to use it before. And she grudgingly assented.

Later, she tutted loudly/audibly, as we left the upper floor of the bookshop. I’m not sure why? Perhaps because we left the tea tray upstairs? I’d usually return it. But on this occasion I just couldn’t wait to get out of the shop.

I thought about complaining to the lady on the desk/till, downstairs. But I didn’t. Instead I phoned another branch of the bookshop. And related my experience, and how it left me feeling.

The guy I spoke to, Duncan (in Edinburgh!), was very polite. And said he’d raise the matter with their Director. Good! I don’t enjoy being made to feel unwelcome.

I might make an inventory of books I’ve bought there, and tickets we’ve purchased for their author talks (which include Rick Stein, + book; Nigella + book, Paxman + book, Melvyn Bragg + book, and many, many more).

I used to recommend Topping to anyone bookish. Now I’m less inclined to do so. And I used to feel happy to pay the full RRP, which Topping always ask, rather than get a book cheaper – often much cheaper – via Amazon. I no longer feel that way.

If I’m not welcome at Topping, despite all the years of buying from them? I’ll shop for books elsewhere. It makes me sad. As I love Topping, the bookshop. But I very much dislike the snooty disdain with which I’ve been treated on more than one occasion, by more than one member of staff.

Hey ho!

But our visit to Ely was – apart from this – very nice. We had chips n’ sausage, from the very good chip shop on the market place. We went to Ely City Centre Cycle Shop, where I bought an Airfix model, and Teresa looked in the haberdashery section. And we finished off at the Antiques place, followed by Peacock’s.