You get attached to inanimate things. They come to feature in your life like familiar friends. Look at my two chums in the photograph above. On the left is my old shower radio - inexpensive but invaluable. It has accompanied pretty much every shower I have had in this house for twenty years. How many times have I stood there soaping this pulsing temple of flesh and bone listening to either Radio 4 or Radio 5 Live? That little radio has taught me so much about politics, history and science. I have even enjoyed countless editions of "Woman's Hour" and Nicky Campbell's topical phone-in programme.
There have been innumerable battery changes but finally, finally my faithful companion is kapput, deceased, voiceless and well... gone. You don't see this model any more and besides it bears no company logo. All it says on the back is "Made in China". In seeking a replacement, I discovered that smartphones and little bluetooth speakers have pretty much taken over the shower radio market but I am pleased to announce that I now have a new one though it seems less sturdy than the deceased model. I doubt that it will also last twenty years. Hell, if it did I would be 92 and no doubt receiving bed baths.
Next to the shower radio is the little clock we had in the upstairs bathroom. It served us well for twenty years but like the shower radio, it has also died and new batteries have no impact any more. I ordered a similar replacement clock from "Argos" and I am pleased with it. When performing one's ablutions it is often important to know the time - what with a busy appointments diary and everything - places to go, people to meet... (I'm kidding!).
And below a family cartoon picture I created this very morning when Shirley and I were looking after Little Margot. She was watching Mr Tumble for the umpteenth time and frankly I could not be bothered. Once was plenty so I made this caricature instead - though I am not sure why my photo looks so yellow!
ENGLAND 2 NORWAY 1
This blogpost was created just before, at halftime and just after England's quarter final victory over Norway. Now it's onward to meet either Argentina or Switzerland in the semi-final...
Depending upon how you look at things, the current British summer continues to be one of the best ever.
Take today for example, the sun shone from 5am to 9pm and the mid-afternoon temperature reached 32℃. It was the same yesterday and it will be the same tomorrow with a clear blue sky overhead. I think Andrew in Melbourne was probably right when he suggested that my shenanigans in Derby on Wednesday had saved me from undertaking a demanding physical trial - " maybe it was a good thing that you didn't walk in the heat." That day was significantly hotter than the forecasters had predicted.
This week I have spent a significant amount of time in our subterranean "underhouse" area. It is always a few degrees cooler down there - like spending time in a cave. I removed some old kitchen cabinets that I put up thirty years ago. In the course of time they had collapsed.
I replaced them with some sturdy shelving I had purchased from a nationwide company which has, in my opinion anyway, an unfortunate name - "Screwfix". The instruction sheet with the pack was laughable. It claimed that the job could be done in thirty minutes. Clearly, whoever wrote those instructions had not contemplated our iron-hard engineering bricks.
Drilling into them is like drilling into granite. I even had some new carbide-tipped drill bits by "De Walt" to ensure progress. But I got there in the end and the shelves are up - hoo-bloody-rah! I also had some plastic drawer units delivered to tuck under my long work bench - replacing a chest of particle board drawers that have seen better days.
Our underhouse is really my domain. Shirley hardly ever goes down there and I have to admit that the place is an utter mess. A jumble of garden implements, DIY tools, storage boxes, tins of paint, bits of wood, old bikes and a jolly Father Christmas we plug in and light up during the festive season. The underhouse also houses our gas boiler and various pipes and electric wiring. It certainly would not win any design awards. I first revealed it in March 2010 when the "room" was less choked up than it is today.
Getting "on top" of the underhouse has been an ongoing personal struggle for decades. There have been various clearout and organisational campaigns but the chaos always seems to return. Never mind - there's always next month, next year. Maybe, if the truth be known, outward chaos is possibly a necessary facet of who I am. Tidiness may well be overrated I think.
Anyway, being down there in the cool has made this hot week less oppressive than it might otherwise have been. I have also taken up a new hobby which I will call "nightwalking" - leaving our house and circling the block at ungodly hours, enjoying the quiet and the cooler night air, perhaps spotting urban foxes or badgers crossing the nearby main road - something that would be suicidal in daytime hours.
Of course, hot spells bring out lots of moaning minnies and doom-mongers but I must admit that I like summer heat. After all - this is northern England, not northern Florida, Thailand or the island of Rotuma in Fiji. Even when it is really hot here it is eminently manageable and of course we have known plenty of years when summer never really established itself.
This one was written by Billy Joel in 1989 when he was forty. He had had a contretemps with a much younger man who imagined that only his generation had it tough and people of Joel's age had had it easy. Joel bristled at this and the seeds of "We Didn't Start The Fire" were sown. I suppose he was attempting to say that in his life there had been many crises, many issues, famous people coming and going. The young man had been badly mistaken.
It is a fast-paced list song with references to 120 figures and events and places from post-war history. Not long after releasing the song, Billy Joel indicated some private irritation about it. He grew to dislike it but personally, I think that it is both clever and evocative as it quickly rolls out dozens of references to historical times and famous figures that are all familiar to me - and probably to you too.
Here are the lyrics so that you can sing along to the video that follows:-
Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom Brando, The King and I, and The Catcher in the Rye Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen Marciano, Liberace, Santayana, goodbye
We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it
Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser, and Prokofiev Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron Dien Bien Phu falls, "Rock Around the Clock" Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Khrushchev Princess Grace, Peyton Place, trouble in the Suez
We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it
Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac Sputnik, Zhou En-Lai, Bridge on the River Kwai Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball Starkweather homicide, children of thalidomide Buddy Holly, Ben-Hur, space monkey, mafia Hula-hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go U-2, Syngman Rhee, payola, and Kennedy Chubby Checker, Psycho, Belgians in the Congo
We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it
We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it
Hemingway, Eichmann, Stranger in a Strange Land Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion Lawrence of Arabia, British Beatlemania Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British Politician Sex J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say?
We didn't start the fire It was always burning Since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it But we tried to fight it
Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again
Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock Begin, Reagan, Palestine, terror on the airline Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, heavy metal suicide Foreign debts, homeless vets, AIDS, crack, Bernie Goetz Hypodermics on the shore, China's under martial law Rock-and-roller cola wars, I can't take it anymore
We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone, it will still burn on And on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning
I can't say that I have ever been a Billy Joel fan but I do like this very original composition. I find myself asking - What is the fire? Perhaps just the ever-burning wildfire of history - raging through the decades and somehow out of control. And I also find myself wondering how the end verses of the song might appear if brought up to 2026.... I have got my thinking cap on now my friends...
David Bowie, Putin, right wing back again
Bezos, Taylor Swift, Islamic terrorists
Climate crisis, Ukraine War, "Kafka on The Shore"
Mar-a-Lago, Zuckerberg, Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Queen of England in her grave, Thomas Crooks close shave
Some days one's plans go awry and that is how it was for me today.
I wanted a little adventure that would include a six mile walk in the Staffordshire countryside west of Derby. My initial target was a small market town called Uttoxeter - somewhere I had never been before. Rather than driving down there, I decided to travel by train and booked a return ticket last night. It would involve changing trains at Derby.
I arrived in Derby at the scheduled time but then heard an announcement over the tannoy: "The 11.26 train to Crewe via Uttoxeter has been cancelled". I walked out of Derby railway station and headed for the bus station but as luck would have it I had just missed the bus to Uttoxeter so headed back to the railway station, intending to catch the 12.26 train.
Derby ram sculpture by Michael Pegler
I sat by platform 4A reading a novel and was so engrossed that when my train pulled up I was in a slight panic. I put the novel in my backpack and jumped on the train. Halfway to Uttoxeter I realised I had left my camera in its case next to where I had been sitting. During my little walk around Derby I had taken a handful of photographs and they accompany this writing.
St Peter's Church, Derby
Upon reaching Uttoxeter, I decided to postpone the walk I had planned but I did manage to visit the town's little museum and the parish church. Back at the station, I was disgruntled to see that the 14.14 train back to Derby had been cancelled and I would have to wait for the 15.14. By the way, it was a very hot day - the kind of day where you seek the cool of shadows and of course internally I kept berating myself for stupidly mislaying my Panasonic Lumix.
Anyway, I finally made it back to Derby and was directed to the station supervisor. He made a call to the Platform 4 supervisor and joy-upon-joy - my lost camera had been found. I tried to give the platform supervisor a small financial reward but he was having none of it, saying it would be against East Midlands Railway policy. However, I insisted and said if he didn't want to buy himself a pint of beer with the money he could stick it in a charity box.
"The Station Inn", Derby
Then I prepared to catch the 16.26 train back to Sheffield and it was also when I entered a mindblowing "bing bong" maze.
"Bing bong - The 16.26 train to Sheffield has been delayed by ten minutes. It will now leave at 16.36."
"Bing bong - The 16.26 train to Sheffield has been delayed by a further seven minutes. It will now leave at 16.43."
"Bing bong - Following an incident at Spondon the 16.26 train to Sheffield has now been cancelled. Passengers should instead prepare to board the 17.11 train to Sheffield via Chesterfield."
"Bing bong - The 17.11 train to Sheffield will now leave at 17.32. Passengers should proceed to Platform 1"
"Bing bong - The 17.11 train to Sheffield has now been cancelled. Passengers should return to Platform 5"
And so the bing bongs continued. It was hard to keep track of it all but at 17.45, I managed to board a crowded train back to Sheffield and what is more - I bagged a seat! Hurrah! Not all passengers enjoyed that luxury.
Box-Tree Moth on a brass memorial plaque in Derby Station.
This invader was first seen in Great Britain in 2008
And then on Arundel Gate here in Sheffield, I had to wait ages for a bus home. Apparently, there had been a road accident a few hundred yards back along the route . I am not a taxi kind of guy but with two people I know - Bob and Glenda I shared an Uber back to our area and I was dropped outside our house.
This was not how my Uttoxeter day was meant to turn out but much to my relief, I still have my camera. I hope to return to Uttoxeter before too long. To use film director jargon, it will be "Take Two!"
Last Thursday afternoon, Little Miss Bossyboots (aka Margot) was sitting on my knee here at this desk. There were some "Post-It" notes in front of us. Quickly, I drew the shape of a cartoon head - Margot's head - and asked her if she wanted a happy face or a sad face. "Happy face!" she said. "Happy Margot" - then I drew "Sad Margot" and "Pussycat Margot".
Later I drew other heads - without Margot on my knee. Before too long I had done twenty four heads. I affixed them to the side of the big bookcase in this study.
Just after three o'clock, I marched down to Phoebe's school to pick her up and bring her back to our house. As soon as she saw the new Margot "Post-It" gallery, Phoebe became jealous and wondered where her "Post-It" pictures were so I promised I would make some of her. Just three more to go and she will also have twenty four little cartoon images.
It's all a rather silly idea but grandpas are allowed to be silly I think. It's in the job description. Anyway, how the hell are you meant to pass your time when you are a retired old geezer waiting for the end of life?
Well I have felt like a zombie today but don't worry. I am a happy zombie.
After winning last night's pub quiz with my two pals, I came home knowing that I still had a long night ahead of me. I was determined to stay up to watch England's knockout game with Mexico beamed live to our house from The Azteca Stadium in Mexico City. Thank you BBC!
For a couple of hours I roamed around the internet, visiting blogs and the latest news - such as Trump's blatant interference in a red card decision. With the obsequious aid of his slimy buddy Gianni Infantino, the grifting FIFA president, Trump managed to get US player Folarin Balogun's red card rescinded, allowing him to play in tonight's match with Belgium. The whole thing stinks like, well, like a smelly trump (American: fart)!
Anyway as one in the morning approached, it was time to switch our television on but damn me - the kick-off time had been delayed for an hour because of heavy rain in Mexico City. So it was back to the computer where I learned how to make a parcel bomb, read about The Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne who died in Aachen, Germany in 814AD and successfully blew away the latest "Wordle" challenge.
Now two o' clock was looming so I sat on the sofa with cushions stacked behind me to make my sitting position a little uncomfortable. You see, I obviously did not want to fall asleep. I pressed the remote and watched our lads singing "God Save the King" in lusty unison. The Mexico team's singing was equally committed as they launched into "Mexicans, at the Cry of War":-
Mexicans, at the cry of war,
Assemble the steel and the bridle,
And may the Earth tremble to its core
To the resounding roar of the cannon.
And what a hell of a battle the game was! You can read match reports elsewhere but let me just say that I was immensely proud of our national team last night. They battled against the odds at high altitude in front of incredibly loud home supporters to scrape home by three goals to two. Mexico losing in the Azteca stadium is as rare as a Dinagat moonrat. Almost unheard of.
England were severely handicapped by the sending off of our full back Jarell Quansah in the fifty fourth minute. This means that he will not be allowed to play in our quarter final match with Norway... unless of course those two grifting slimeballs get his card rescinded too! Fat chance of that.
It was approaching five o'clock this morning when I finally crawled into bed with happy TV memories of what had just transpired 5500 miles from here. Before I dozed off, Shirley asked, "What was the score?" She couldn't believe it.
Come on England!
*Image at the top; "Head of a Man" by L.S.Lowry (1938)
In my travels, I never visited Annapolis, Maryland in the USA and it is highly unlikely that I will ever go there. But if I did I would head straight for Stan and Joe's Saloon on West Street. There I might order a nice cool American beer in a tall glass while waiting for their classic reuben sandwich with a garden salad.
However, that would not be my principal reason for venturing to Annapolis. I would be there to visit the parking lot that is right behind Stan & Joe's place. Overlooking that unexceptional car park is a rather special mural. It celebrates the life of one Eva Cassidy (1963-1996). She was born and raised in Maryland and that's where she died so tragically young.
Fortunately, today we have access to something quite magical on the internet - Google Streetview - and by using that facility I was able to look into the parking lot in order to catch a glimpse of Eva Cassidy's mural. Here it is:-
To tell you the truth, I think Eva deserves a more prominent mural. What there is is okay but it is tucked away in the corner of a parking lot like an apology or a secret.
She had such a divine voice. Her imperfections made her delivery perfect. Three British radio presenters - Terry Wogan, Paul Jones and Mike Harding played a big part in bringing this Maryland songstress to the attention of the world and they were right to do so. What a crime it would have been if she had vanished into obscurity.
In recent days, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" had been playing in my mind over and over with lyrics by a dreamy fellow called Yip Harburg. However, in my humble opinion, nobody ever sang that song as well as Eva Cassidy did it. She owned the song and imbued it with a sense of longing that is in every human heart. Please listen...
