Author: Seb Palmer

I’ve always wanted to have a pond. Sadly Teresa has a terror of frogs n’ toads. So she’s less keen. But I think she’ll learn to love it (and them), in time. I call it a pond complex on account of it being two ponds and a connecting channel.

We’re going to line it with recycled pond-liner, from Simon and Claire’s old (they got rid of it!) pond. They now have extensive decking instead.

So thanks Pops n’ Claire. Let’s hope the old and somewhat knackered lining will ‘live again’! Talking of old n’ knackered…

Neither pond will be very large – our garden, whilst long-ish, is pencil thin! – nor very deep. And the connecting channel will prob’ only be 8-10” deep, and about as wide.

It was so bright it was very hard to get a decent pic of the whole, on my iPhone, esp’ what with the cramped space, etc. So the above image, the main pond and the beginnings of the connecting channel (at top left), isn’t great.

But hopefully with phase two – weed suppression lining and then the pond liner proper – it’ll start looking clearer. And once there’s water in there – it’s supposed to rain tomorrow – even better!

In the pic’ above things are a tad clearer, I hope? Near to the camera is pond # one, the ‘master’ pond (slightly larger, a fair bit deeper), then there’s the connecting channel, ‘bridge’, and at the back, the secondary, or ‘slave’ pond.

I plan to have some kind of bridge across the wee channel. Poss’ two or three meaty timbers, such as this temporary one, above. I’d rather they were either flush with the soil, or at least sunken a few inches. Just plopped atop the lawn* is ok for now tho’!

* All our ‘lawn’ areas are more like brownfield meadows, right now!

In replying to friends post I coined this new word. If I were a proper Capitalist (Cunt)*, I’d have copyrighted this. But just as the words Capitalist and Cunt seem to go together so well, so also does my aversion to the monetisation of absolutely everything.

Today, my work to me through Potton. The glorious sunshine really made some of the beautiful old houses look dazzlingly gorgeous. I’m a particular fan of this oh so English combo of red-brick with ‘classic’ old-school green.

I loved this house so much I stopped to take photographs. I even knocked on the front door and asked the owner, who luckily was in, what colour it was, if he knew? And he did: Dulux Weather-shield Buckingham Green!

I’ve been on a bit of a quest for this particular classic ‘Brit C. 1940s-‘50s’ green for some time. Now I feel, unlike Bono/U2, I’ve finally found exactly what I’ve been looking for.

The day was Septober 9th, which happens to be the birthdate of the illustrious Mr Elvin Ray Jones.

Some days later (Sept’ 12th), I drove past the garage below. In The Fens somewhere this time, and on a wet, grey and overcast day. The bricks aren’t the glorious reds, exactly. But the metalwork, in this instance, is the right kind of green.

It’s amazing the change wrought on appearances by the weather conditions! Although it’s also possible that the green in this last pic is also a shade or two darker anyway.

I like taking the time, during my various activities, to stop and take note of everyday beauty, such as I perceive it. It feeds the soul, so to speak.

I’ve been rewarding myself for abstemious and healthy living recently. Each week I’m good, I’ve got a new CD. The first three of which were all, J-Jazz, or Japanese jazz.

I decided to round off this month’s good behaviour incentives scheme with this relatively new book, Tokyo Jazz Joints. A celebration of Jazz Kissa, in both words, and, most especially, in photographs.

As a hoarder and collector of stuff – books, music (mostly CDs now, and a remnant of a never huge vinyl collection), instruments, tools, models, etc. – the cluttered and cosily lit spaces that abound in this book are really something to chew over.

One of many bands I was in many moons ago, which started out as duo, became a trio, died, and was re-animated as a quintet, was focussed on and around jazz. And one of our originals was tentatively titled ‘At The Boho Cavern’, or some such silliness.

But the serious thing underlying the goofiness was a sense of cool foreign places just such as are lovingly documented and celebrated in this very handsome book.

We were probably thinking of America, back then. That these places to turn out to be a more real proposition in Japan, is a bit of a surprise, even to me with my growing awareness of the Japanese jazz scene.

The interiors range from shabby to chic. One thing I found quite notable, was that most of them are nigh on empty. There are a few folk; the owner/bartender, the occasional punter. Only one or two pictures hint at a busy moment.

Was this an aesthetic choice? I often prefer to take pictures of buildings or places free of humans. It helps make these kissa more evocative, and open to one’s own subjective readings. Whatever, it’s still a little odd, given the human dimension of these places.

Perhaps it’s partly a reflection of the decline of this really rather lovely culture? If that’s the case – and the text says it is – that’s very sad.

The exteriors are as varied as the interiors, as I hope some of these pics of mine convey. Both the insides and the outsides also reflect the passing of time: patinated metals, fading flaking paints, wood textures, old pictures (postcards, posters, artwork, etc), and all kinds of ephemera; from tickets, magazines, programmes, to the vinyl (and CDs, evenVHS videos!), and the hand-written catalogues of artists/albums/tracks, etc.

There’s graffiti – from stuff scrawled by fans, and musos – to little philosophical nuggets, such as ‘Jazz and freedom go hand in hand, Monk’. And the names of the kissa, and their signage, are an aspect of the whole culture that could be a subject in itself.

Much is made of the passion for hi-fi gear, in these joints. It’s also suggested (poss online rather than in this book; the related website is well worth checking out), that a good deal of this tech is custom built.

My dad built amps and speakers at one point, many years ago. Seeing some of these images, such as the one above (a close up detail of a much larger picture), makes me want to try my hand at building some high end listening tech. I love that blue amp! And there are lots of little valve units dotted throughout.

I can only imagine the joy of finding places like these in the flesh. How come Japan has so many? Even now when Jazz Kissa culture is in decline? Whilst here in the UK we have – as far as I know? – nothing at all equivalent.

The choice to photograph everything in the ‘natural light’ of the settings, as experienced, i.e. without flash, etc, is fundamentally important. It’s what gives all these terrific images their incredibly powerful cosiness. Powerful cosiness, eh? Sounds perfect to me!

And this final image, also the final pic in this sublime book, captures that essence of connoisseurship, the reverie! I need to build a little space into our home inspired by these fabulous jazz kissa.

What a terrific book! Thanks to Philip Arneill, James Catchpole, Kehrer, et al – and the jazz kissa dudes themselves – for a feast of inspirational words and images. A real treasure of a book.

‘There is still much work to be done. There are many joints to visit, photos to make, stories to uncover and memories to create, before those photos and stories are all that is left of this magical, fading world.’ Philip Arneill

* Or indeed any aesthete type life.

The above image, of which there are many versions online, is Barbara Remington’s original artwork, for the 1970s LOTR trilogy, as published by Ballantine Books.

It appears to be a single composite image, from which covers for the three sub-sections of the trilogy (Tolkien always wanted it to be one big book; but his publishers insisted it would be better as three) were extracted.

In the caption above I say I do t what the picture is… Well, it’s a map, obviously! But with a terrific illustrative border, by Babs. Was this produced as a poster? I must know! And, ideally, I must have it.

The detail above is rather similar to the detail I picked from the cover, at the top of this post. Which is nice, as it gives this little blog entry some visual and thematic consistency.

I believe, however, that my first exposure to Remington’s very enchanting style was this:

My dad had this book, in this very edition. I bought a cheap copy off Amazon, for myself, some years back. Not for the writing, which, frankly, I think is pretty dreadful (Orville Prescott thought otherwise!), but instead/solely for the terrific cover.

The house was lovingly restored, in the early twentieth century. All the woodwork and brickwork had been covered over with plasterwork in the 19th Century.

Just watched this rather interesting docudrama. It tells the story, including interview footage with the man himself, of Leonid Berenshtein.

Rather ironically- given that his identity as a Jew, and hiding or revealing that identity, is a crucial elee we met of the film – the version I saw, on Amazon Prime, had the title changed to 1944: Hitler’s Secret Weapon.

I found a thing online under the name of the film’s director, here, and that’s how I came to realise the original and proper title is simply Berenshtein. The painful ironies of history multiply.

Looking around the interweb, it seems that this movie may also go by another name, The Last Partisan. That’s on account of the fact that Leonid himself passed away during the making of this project. Aged 98!

It’s a bit weird, when the movie jumps back and forth between the dramatisations and ‘the present’, as it was a couple of years ago. But overall it’s actually both effective and powerful. And it certainly doesn’t get in the way of this being a cracking good watch.

Another slightly odd thing, especially given the bastardised title of the version I watched, is that both Berenshtein and The Last Partisan are not only better titles, but more accurately reflect the core content.

The actual finding of the V-2 rocket research and development location, which the Prime title implies is the core of the film, ends up hardly featuring at all. And, indeed, they don’t actually find or liberate or destroy it; rather they deduce it’s location, triangulating it via its nigh on impenetrable Dede de cordon. And at the cost of numerous lives.

The bulk of the story is located in the Ukraine, which adds another level of historical irony, given how Berenshtein and his partisans were both Ukrainians and Russians. Whereas now we are seeing those two identities at war, in the same beleaguered lands.

It’s also interesting seeing how the film – an Israeli production – handles both Nazi atrocities, and the dehumanising aspects of war on people, including Berenshtein himself, on both sides.

My recent post about the little rainbow on Teresa’s cheek made think of John Sebastian. And that in turn made me think of the wonderful recordings of the Mud Acres/Woodstock Mountains collective.

This right-on and righteous raggle-taggle crowd of hippies and folk Nik’s would gather at a farm in Woodstock (poss the family of one of the Traum brothers? Arty and Happy, no less), for what one of them memorably described as a ‘party round a microphone’.

After breakfast in bed, I noticed Teresa had a rainbow… on her face! It makes me think of the John Sebastian lyric:

I'll paint rainbows all over your blues

Teresa finally got me out on a walk today. She’s been trying for ages. But I’ve been resistant. Due to the intense depression of recent times. Of course the irony is that a walk is, or certainly can be, pure medicine.

Using the ‘pano’ pic function vertically, on trees, is, I reckon, pretty cool.

The door pictured above is a side entrance to a property (and it’s minuscule garden) that we were quite keen on, when we started looking at houses in March. It’s a fab old stone built place. But it needed a cash-buyer – most probably a builder/developer- with the wherewithal to do a new roof, and lots of other structural stuff.

We walked along the river, from Creek Road, across the High Street, and along the park and back via West End. And what a pleasurable experience it was.

Grey and overcast. But gorgeous nonetheless. What a tonic!