Very damn long: down (in the gold mine?)

On the 1971 Doors album LA Woman, a bloating Jim sang a song “I’ve been down so very damn long”, which I always thought was one of the better ones.

It turns out this is also the title of a book written by the much forgotten Richard Fariña. He died in a bike accident in 1966 and is widely seen as a fundamental influence on his friends Dylan, Morrison and a host of others who became really rather famous. Had he lived, it is likely his reputation & achievement would have rivalled them all.

Unfortunately, the reviews of the book that I have read don’t make me want to read it. I guess it’s certain this is where the Doors got the title from but how can you be sure?

Fariña sang with his wife Mimi, who was Joan Baez’ sister; he died on her 21st birthday. She had cameo appearances in Tales of the City and Six Feet Under. She died in 2001.

Daniil Kharms

Daniil Kharms (1905-1942) was an avant garde Russian author.  He died while a resident guest at one of Uncle Joe's less well appointed holiday hotels.  6 weeks after he died, his flat on Mayakovsky Street in Leningrad was bombed: his friends rescued his notebooks or almost all of his work would have been lost.

Very little of his work was [permitted to be] published during his lifetime. Most notable now is Incidences, a collection of short pieces in a style unfamiliar to western readers.

Just one example is:

The Artist and The Clock

Serov, an artist, went to the Obvodny Canal. Why did he go there? To buy some india rubber. What did he want india rubber for? To make himself a rubber band. And what did he want a rubber band for? In order to stretch it. That's what for. And what else? This is what else: the artist Serov had broken his clock. The clock had been going well, but he picked it up and broke it. What else? Nothing else. Nothing, this is it, in a nutshell! Keep your filthy snout out when it's not needed! And may the lord have mercy on us!
Once there lived an old woman. She lived and lived, until she got burnt up in her stove. Served her right, too! The artist Serov, at least, was of that opinion...
Huh! I would write some more, but the ink-pot has suddenly gone and disappeared.

Grumpy Old Man (I)

So I catch a bus from Aberaeron to Llanrhystud. This alone is worthy of many pages of entertaining reporting, but skip that.

The bus arrives. An orderly queue has assembled: I am by some distance short of its average age and those without walking sticks have more sophisticated mobility assistance.

As I get near the front of the queue, a youth sweeps aside a clutch of old ladies and me, and becomes front of the queue. I adopt my well practiced "Aghast" countenance, but regrettably nobody is looking.

The youth (who speaks "adolescentte") is engaged in heated conversation with the driver, who explains that an "under 14" ticket is not available to people who are clearly not under 14. The youth utters many comments in his own tongue, & the driver ripostes "No you're not".

Seizing my chance, I call "And he pushed into the queue". A small Welsh woman in front of me nods vigorously.

"OK Sunshine; back of the queue and full fare" says the driver. The youth shouts "How are you supposed to know how fucking old I am?" [I understood this bit] and slouches off.

The driver and I exchange triumphant smiles. "Silly boys" he says, "Don't they realise it's the same drivers on this route every day?"

I shall enjoy being a Grumpy Old Man.

Safle Bws

Directly outside our house is a pair of bus stops. Buses are every 20 minutes and are the town circular: number 1 goes clockwise, number 2 anticlockwise.

On the front of both, the destination board reads Gwasanaeth y Dref, which doesn’t mean "This bus has escaped from the 1950s. No, we don’t have any change but the nice man in the queue behind you will pay and you can reimburse him when you meet him later."

From my window I have an excellent view of stops going in both directions and can take very good photos of the people waiting to go into town in either direction. It seems a bit much to publish them, but thus far I have

People	Total age (est.)	Direction
1M 2F	112	Anticlockwise
1M 4F	124	Anticlockwise
1M 0F	48	Clockwise
1M 3F	180	Anticlockwise
1M 1F	100	Clockwise

If you would like to see any of these, ask me directly and I will send a copy. Alternatively, I will take requests and match them as best I can.

The Jellicoe Roof Garden

On the top floor of the House of Fraser in Guildford, that lies between High Street and North Street, is a grand roof garden. This was built and opened in 1957-58, when this was Harvey's of Guildford.

The garden was designed by Sir Geoffrey Jellicoe, a noted landscape and garden designer responsible for many public commissions (including the Kennedy memorial at Runnymede). It was requested in the wake of the Soviet 1957 Sputnik triumph; Jellicoe said it was ...primarily a sky garden,... the underlying idea has been to unite heaven and earth; the sensation is one of being poised between the two.

At the time it was a revolutionary installation and attracted a great deal of attention. It afforded magnificent views of Guildford and the North Downs. The garden eventually fell into neglect and disrepair, but was recently rediscovered and refurbished: it now includes a view of Guildford Cathedral, which had not been built at the time of its opening.

I lived in Guildford until 1959 when I was 4: I have very few memories of the town but the Jellicoe Garden is one of them – I visited it shortly after its opening in 1958. At the time my father was the Harvey’s haberdasher; he would regale us with stories about the commanding figure of Denis Pink, then Harvey’s MD. Encountering two young men taunting the fish in the garden’s extensive water features, he adroitly kicked one of them into the deep, saying, “Sir, I am so sorry for my clumsiness.” No complaint was brought.

FFI:

• BBC Surrey, words and pictures.
  
• IFLA.
  

The Alphabotley Run

The Otley Run is so well known that I never chose to do it during 32 years in Leeds. It's not actually well-defined; various versions have differing numbers of pubs. This number fluctuates with taste and local knowledge.

But I shall be leaving Leeds, so in Mark's words, "It's gotta be done". Stuff the rules - I discarded the traditional ordering & certainly didn't do them all in one afternoon. Alphabetically seemed the best approach, but a proper drink [at least] seemed important.

It took from March 2nd until May 16th. But it was thorough: I recorded

• Beverage and cost
  
• Date/time
  
• Apposite photographs
  

I also composed useful illustrative comments for others, and assigned descriptive keywords.

These data are readable for your enjoyment.

Deutscher Urlaub

So we travel to Köln by way of a weekend break.

“Have you come to flee the royal wedding?” asks the hotel receptionist. “You have it right”, I say, “All 6 of us”. [This exchange conducted in German.]

So we saw Köln cathedral, the Ludwig Gallery, the Rhine, u.s.w., but the highlights had to be:

• The Düsseldorf Nord-Friedhof, featuring the grave of Rosemarie Nittribit (now complete with head). Splendidly understated WW1 and WW2 sections, and a memorial mason’s supermarket. And an apiary.
  Some pictures exist.
  
• The Marine Olberman stores on Bayenstrasse: so good we had to visit it twice, on both occasions getting a frosty reception from the staff who spoke so much German it was clear that they knew we weren’t taking them seriously.
  Some pictures exist, and we bought things which I will display on request.
  
• The Lego shop. Oh wow, if Lego were edible, would this place make you fat. Just had to be satisfied with Woodie and the Rabbit/Egg tableau.
  Some pictures exist.
  

The Kölner cable car, incidentally, travels directly over the spa baths where large middle aged Germans disport themselves nakedly. A picture exists, but I have chosen to share it with precisely one special friend.

Other pictures exist that reconstruct the experience rather well.