Greg Foat anyone?

Just heard about about Edgar Froese's death.  Tangerine Dreams used to be one of my favourate groups, back when I was still heavily into music.  Nowadays it's more hit and miss with me, and I miss out on a lot of talent.  I did come across Greg Foat!  Aren't they great?

http://youtu.be/oBogq4WIN1g?list=RDoBogq4WIN1g

Musings on a Sunday Afternoon - My Life It's Been Changing

I have had an excellent first week at my new job.  I didn't oversleep a single time!  I just told my body to fall back into the usual Bank-of-England-days' routine, except getting up a bit earlier, and it worked well - full kudos to my amazingly supportive sub conscience.  

I rather like getting up early, it makes me feel virtuous and self-righteous.  Because I arrive quite early in London I have time to have a good breakfast before work, and read the paper.  I found a good cafe near my new workplace, which supplies not only the possibly best bacon & scrambled eggs in town, but also free newspapers - not just the usual cheap Times, but The Manchester Guardian!  Be still, my thumping heart.

It will take me awhile to get back into a routine at home.  If you aren't home much, issues like postal deliveries and shopping need careful planning.  Luckily I am surrounded by lovely neighbours who are home a lot, and very accommodating in taking in packages for me and keeping an eye on the house, which is really helpful.

My exercise routine has sadly flagged during the past few months, but I am confident that I will be able to go to the pool a few times a week at least.  I even have enough time in the evenings to watch a French movie!  This is particularly important because I have booked my next Cure in la Bourboule for September, and really must brush up my language skills.

I hope I will be able to maintain my regularly blog postings, but if I ever lapse worry not - it just means I am a bit too busy with work and other miscellaneous enterprises.  But I shall always be back!

So tally ho, pip pip, and hey ho hopdiquax me old beans!

Let there be Light- the Dennis Seversification of DB Hausen

Flemish chandelier

Every time I visit Dennis Severs' House I feel deprived and impoverished in my own home.  Imbued with the spirit of times past, I reject the bright lights derived from electricity and return to the homely tranquility of bees wax candles.

I wish I was more like my friend MG, who, after visiting Dennis Severs' House, mused on what sort of book one might set in it.  Me, I plot and scheme of how I might change my own home into a similarly enchanted abode.  All a huge amount of work, and tough on the budget.

Lotus lamp

The flower opens and closes, you know!

This time around I was hit especially hard - well, I had time on my hands before going on to my new job in London, so could afford to spend some time on my nostalgic tendencies.

Modern mirrored device - bright but terribly modern

I bought firstly, a Flemish chandelier from the 1890s, secondly a lotus lamp which I equipped with a 10 watt light-bulb which is almost like a candle, thirdly a modern device made of mirrors, fourthly a set of candles mounted in front of a brass oval plate, fifthly a brass mirror in which to reflect a candle, and lastly a Normandy Lacemakers Lamp - all pictured in this post.

Not sure which ones I will keep - some would make excellent Christmas presents!

The Lacemakers Lamp was quite a bit of work, because someone had converted it to electricity, and I had to prise open the bottom to get into the inside.  I ripped out all the modern accoutrements, and turned the lamp back to its old self, using a bamboo chopstick as the candle push-up stick.

Lacemakers Lamp

The trouble with reading by candle light is that the light is rather dim, so by placing the candle in front of a mirror - as in the modern device, or inside a polished metal surface - as in the Lacemakers Lamp, one can increase the amount of illumination cast upon one's page.

Candle in front of mirror

The Blaker below is handcrafted in Germany by Hans-Ulrich Walther and a lucky Ebay find - I paid less than 10% of what they are new.  These devices used to be hung in rich people's houses to aid in their illumination, and really are quite effective.  Also look very classy!

German made Blaker

This evening I shall sit in the splendor of all my candles, reading Dickens and eating sugarplums, and feeling 150 years older than I really am!

Happy weekend!

Scarf Games for Insomniacs - Don't mess with me, Baby!

Another nice scarf game to play if you can't sleep at night is the active aggressive one.  For example, you might imagine you spent the day hunting in the woods near Paris ....

Chasse au Bois

..... minding your own business .......

..... the birds are singing .....

Alas, there are others doing the same thing!

We are after the same fox - but the other chap's dog gets carried away and starts to argue with my dog, and  of course I try to separate them, and then the wretch bites me, and I hit his master, because after all I can't hurt the dog, being soft hearted and all, and the other chap hits me back, and I say, 'how dare you, hitting a small weak defenseless little female,' and so the guy starts laughing, and I take offense, and I shout, 'Tomorrow at dawn at the Bois du Bologne, bring a doctor, and prove you are a man!'

More laughter.  'Women don't fight duels,' exclaims mine enemy. 'Not so,' quoth I, 'have you forgotten about the Countess de Polignac and Marquise de Nesle, who fought a duel over their mutual lover, the Duke de Richelieu?  Prepare to die, you ugly wart on a salamander's tongue!'

At this he shuts up.  

When Eos ushers in her dawn the following morning, we are both cold in every sense of the word, assume positions, and off we go.

Traite des Armes

I almost have him at my mercy, and prepare for the Coup de Grace, 

when there is an interruption.  The chap's mother had heard about our dual, and frightened - I assume - for my life, she sent a message to the great Emperor himself, beseeching him to end the duel.

Lettre de Napoléon a Murat d'après Caran D'Ache

Napoleon, always considerate of mothers, sends a messenger; however, I refuse to stop and shoot at the messenger to scare him off.  

The ninny goes back to Napoleon to complain, and the man himself shows up on a white horse, acting all imperial.

Napoleon

That really gets my goat, so I invoke my old friend Fritz, who is visiting from Sans Souci.

Sans Souci

The turncoat sides with Napoleon!

Now I am really angry, and I play my trump card:

No one, but no one, messes with the owner of a nuclear submarine!

While they are all cowering under a gooseberry-bush, I strut about feeling superior and invincible.

Eventually my enemies are getting cold, and it is way past their lunch time, so they telephone the UN asking for a negotiator, who duly arrives.

50th Anniversary UN

He speaks to me in dulcet tones, so I relent and go away in my submarine, up the Seine and on to new adventures, while my vanquished enemies go home for their afternoon nursery tea.

The moral of the story is, don't mess with me - I can out-scarf any accessorising enemy! 

Scarf Games for Insomniacs - Around the World in Umpteen Scarves

It's my birthday today!

Finally, I got around to doing a post on Scarf Games for Insomniacs!  At night, when I can't sleep, I don't count sheep, having few agricultural connections.  Instead I play scarf games!  I started out just counting them, but when that got boring I invented more satisfying games.

My favourite one is, Around the World in Umpteen Scarves.  The idea is, to build a little story involving travelling around the world, using as many scarves as possible.  I can't wholeheartedly recommend this - partly, it can get quite exciting and then you really can't get to sleep, and partly because it has a tendency to fuel scarf-lust.

For example, I once almost bought a scarf depicting a people living close to the Panama Canal, for the sole reason of shaving a few days off my travels by using said canal.  On another occasion I attempted to buy a scarf called Sur un Tapis Volant, a Magic Flying Carpet - luckily I was outbid, and convinced myself that another scarf called Kilim which I already had would work just as well; after all, who is to know whether or not that kilim can fly!

Anyway, here it goes!

Henry F Smith, Sailor

A long time ago in Portland Oregon there lived Habakuk Hechelmeier, who was no better than he should be, but worse than some.  One night he was drinking heavily in a local speakeasy, when suddenly - kerplunk! - a trapdoor opened and he fell into a dark pit, losing his consciousness in the process.  When he awoke he was on a sailing ship bound for Australia, the victim of shanghaiing.

After several weeks of misery Habakuk got very ill, and was thrown overboard by the heartless captain.  Luckily a tortoise took pity on him and carried him on her back to Australia.

de Madras a Zakynthos

Laying more dead than alive on the beach, he was found by an ancient wise Australian Aborigine  woman who cured him with her medicinal herbs.

Reve de Gloria

Barely cured, he stole a horse from the nearest settlement and traveled to the northern part of the continent, maintaining himself by scavenging and petty theft.

Ex libris en camouflage

Once he arrived at the coast, he traded in the horse for a ride to Japan on a passing junk.

Jonques et sampans

Once there, he entered service with a Japanese nobleman, who believed his lies and put him in charge of his prized bonsai collection.  He managed to kill them all in two short weeks.

Bonsai

Undeterred by this horticultural disaster, Habakuk asked to become head gardener of the Daimyo's chrysanthemum enclosure.  What can I say, he lay waste to the entire enterprise.

Les Pivoines

He fled as fast as his legs took him, hotly pursued by the outraged nobleman.  Just before he broke down completely exhausted, he came across a kite flying contest.

Soies volantes

He hitched a lift on the most sturdy looking kite which carried him far off into Asia.

Eventually the kite got too tattered to carry him anymore, and he fell from the sky, straight into a lotus pool.

Fleurs de lotus

He swam to the edge, and after shaking off the odd frog and lily-beetles made inquiries as to where he was.  His kite had been a winner - he had made it all the way to Thailand.

Anxious to return to a western country, he joined a colonial expedition as a jack-of-all-trades.  They gave him a gun and an elephant.

Chasse en Inde

He stole both and made his way up the Ganges and into Tibet.  His elephant ran away half way up the Himalaya, and he barely survived eating rancid yak butter and goji berries.

Prieres au Vent

He arrived in Tibet utterly exhausted, and was rescued by Buddhist monks who took him to their monastery.  Their Abbot listened to his tale, guessed more than he was told, and decided to help Habakuk leave the country before he could defile it.  He gave him a bicycle and some more rancid yak butter, and Habakuk cruised down the Himalaya and across Rajastan and Pakistan.

Les Becanes

By now his leg muscles had become quite strong, and he pedaled through Iran at full speed.  One evening he campsed near the ancient ruins of Persepolis for the evening.

Persepolis

He nosed around a bit, in the hope of ancient treasure, but found nothing except an old kilim.

Kilim

Considering it excellent bedding for the night, he rolled up in it and fell asleep.  The next morning he found himself airborn over Istanbul - he had in fact found a magic carpet!

Instead of using it to fly straight home to Portland where his old mother was worried sick about him, he sold it for a small fortune to a Turkish tile maker.

Ceramique ottomane

He took his fortune aboard a sturdy looking craft manned by honest Norwegian traders, who turned out to be Vikings, snatched his fortune, and put him on a tiny raft.

Les Normands

He managed to land in Alexandria with the help of a school of dolphins who maneuvered his raft landward,

Les Secrets de Minos

and fell in with some tomb robbers.

Scarabees et Pectoraux

He was so successful that his new colleagues convinced him to rob the legendary treasure of the kings of Benin.

Les Tresor Royal du Benin

Unfortunately for him he got caught.  While awaiting trial, he saw an opportunity to escape and jumped on a passing omnibus.  Since he had the correct fare, they took him all the way to Timbuktu.

Omnibus et Dames Blanches

He was once again broke, and while trying to find a job as a labourer got enslaved by a passing Tuareg, who forced him to work in the salt mines of Taoudenni.

Cuirs du Desert

After months of back breaking labour, and continuous diarrhea, he managed to catch a lift from a passing aviation adventurer,

Les folies du ciel

who took him to Marseilles.

Le voyage de Pytheas

Since he was already in France, he decided to visit its main attractions, and hitchhiked to la Bourboule.

Les Planeurs de la Bourboule

In la Bourboule he befriended another flying ace, and managed to get a lift to Paris,

Lumieres de Paris

where he visited the famous church of Saint Joseph, the patron saint of aviators.  While gazing at the magnificent stained glass window, he began to question his hitherto questionable moral conduct.

This train of thought reached a climax when he witnessed a massive shooting star the following evening, and determined to improve his life.  The next day it was Christmas!

Feux du Ciel

He decided to start a new life by buying a Christmas present for his old mother in a fancy store.

Having made his choice (a scarf, obviously!) he discovered that he had no money to pay for it.  He explained his predicament to the store's owner, and offered to rob the Louvre of the famous horned treasure trove to pay for his mother's gift (he didn't want to steal the scarf, being a reformed character).

L'or de Chefs

The store owner, impressed with his new found righteousness and filial devotion, gave him the scarf as a present, compliments of the management, and invited him to spend Christmas Day with his family.

The following day his benefactor secured Habakuk a passage on a horseless shay en route to the sea, whence he could board a ship and return home.

Les Triples

The cart was slow, and Habakuk endured a ten daylong journey until he reached the harbour of Sainct Mont Michel.

Mont Sainct Michel

He soon found a sailing ship that took him to New England, in return for him working for the passage.

Cheval de Mer

Once there he threw himself upon the mercy of a Baptist Minister, who took pity on him and gifted him a horse so he could ride across the prairies and return home.

Add caption

But had his luck really turned?  Half way across the prairie he was captured by an Indian brave,

Pani la Shar Pawnee

who took Habakuk to the shamans of his tribe.

Les Mythologies des Hommes Rouges

They interrogated him thoroughly, and decided that he was indeed a reformed man (it was the scarf depicting an angel he had bought for his mother that finally convinced them).

They gave him an escort to take him safely back to Portland.

Once there, he forgot all about being good, sold the scarf for a tidy sum, and went to the nearest jazz club.  Oh well!

Good night, sleep tight!