Not Working

So why, I ask myself, do we live this frugal life, eco-considerations aside? Well, I would love interesting, creative work and am looking all the time, asking friends and contacts, keeping an eye out locally, thinking of possible business ventures. It's not happening at the moment, but to stave off depression as best I can, I have to believe that something will come my way. I have come to realise that, apart from the first few honeymoon months, I have not enjoyed most of the jobs I have had so far. This is sobering. Some jobs were just plain dull, but were in interesting places or with nice people, which was distracting. Some started off well, but re-organisations, bloody minded people and other obstacles eventually got in the way. Some had good aspects to them which I enjoyed, but overall ... The best job, on paper at least, was as a university lecturer. I enjoyed the contact with students, the facilities, the status, the salary, the opportunities to be creative. Heavens, I even enjoyed (most of) the meetings, although "curriculum development" was a bit of a screen for tea and buns or a drink. However, the subject became dull and I wasn't inspired to engage in research, which is pretty crucial. I couldn't think of a way to bring it round to something I was interested in, and a new unsympatico head of department killed it for me. It would have been a great niche otherwise. I chose to leave to change direction, had a fabulous time studying and was successful for a while, but then the work dried up. The disappointment consumed me for years and, even now, I can't afford to think of it for too long. Since then, I've had some mainly short-term research contracts which were OK, a spell at another university as a researcher which I did enjoy, done some indexing, some writing, bits and bobs, but the gaps in between have stretched out into Tumbleweed City. My interests are all creative - photography, art, craft, writing (music is on an appreciation level only) - but as I'm not established professionally in any of these it's unlikely I will find paid work there.

Santa or Mr Savile - what I would like is a series of reasonably well-paid (I'm not greedy) short-term research/proof-reading/indexing jobs, if you could fix that, please.

Self-sufficientishness

Our low-impact lifestyle has emerged from a wish to live a more greener life and a need to be frugal, but from time-to-time I become impatient that we aren't doing enough. When we moved here ten years ago, we inherited a sizeable vegetable plot, some fruit bushes, a greenhouse and a large workshop, plus more space than either of us has ever had. There's not enough land to approach full self-sufficiency on the food front, but we do what we can. We enjoy the challenge of making a lot of what we need and have become pretty creative with what we have. With the current reduced income, this has become even more important. We've joined Freecycle. We would be Freegans if there were any supermarket skips to raid, instead we bargain hunt at the small independent supermarket in the next village-but-one. We have also been known to go scrumping. A friend in the village recycles her newspapers to us to read (thanks, Judith) and then we can make brickettes out of them. It goes without saying that when we have to buy, it is second-hand. We've also both become more artistically creative, which helps with gifts and cards for friends and family. Increased fuel bills are hitting all of us, and whilst we try to use gas and electricity sparingly and we've opted for a capped scheme, the bills seem to be huge. It's back to my parents' day now - when lights were always switched off, water was heated only when necessary, one room was kept warm. Unfortunately, solar heating is so expensive to install, so that's not an option. In the summer, we do have a homemade solar shower in the garden and can heat small volumes of water for washing-up, but that's about it. Also, we'd like a woodburner, but although secondhand burners can be found, the cost of installation is massive. It can be expensive to be green!

A recent book which I reviewed for http://www.thebookbag.co.uk/ has lots of tips if you want to lead a more eco-life. The Self-Sufficientish Bible and the website which some of the tips come from is highly recommended - have a look at http://www.selfsufficientish.com/ for all sorts of things to try out.

Into Focus

We've just acquired a copy of Focus' 1974 album, "Hamburger Concerto". As a gal, I used to listen to Focus but always borrowed the albums. We got "Focus III" and "Moving Waves" quite recently, following a few weeks of us both attempting Thijs van Leer's yodelling. As much as I've enjoyed these two albums, HC is a revelation. I read the reviews and thought, must have this, I've never heard it and everyone says it's their best. When it arrived yesterday, I couldn't believe it - it was so familiar, like it had been one of my obsessions. Well, clearly it had been. How could I forget? It is just fantastic, although with a strong Boston Moment (see below). There's a nice little chunk (homage?) of Abbey Road in there. Who cares?

Martyn kicked into touch

Oh no. Found a new fave from someone I've never heard of before, a jazz pianist called Lynne Arriale. A corking version of "Feelin' Good" from her "Inspiration" album, which is full of covers. I love new takes on old tunes. I mean, it's a fab song anyway (by Newley and Bricusse), and Nina Simone and Muse's versions are really good, but this has just a fab rhythm to it. Great bass playing by Jay Anderson, too. This will set me off (and back) to jazz, I can see. Talking of which, there's a new CD due out from the sublime Neil Cowley Trio. We saw them last September in London and I was just so excited by their music (we're almost talking spontaneous incontinence). The last album, "Displaced", is fantastic and stayed on the machine for weeks. There's some Jarrett-sounding stuff in there and also a hint of a favourite band of mine, Jaga Jazzist. Their 2005 album "What We Must" is just essential layered energetic gorgeousness.

Lava from heaven

Would you believe it? I was helping out at a jumble sale today when a lava lamp turned up. It is now glowing eerily in the back of the van.

Under the arm and in the garden

The aforementioned gate-folds were a useful badge back then. Walking around Wolverhampton with Soft Machine 3 under your arm said it all. You might not make instant buddies, but a nod of recognition and understanding (especially from someone wearing the Boys Grammar uniform) went a long way. And, of course, the first thing you did when going to anyone's place was to check out the vinyl. So, when you are middle-aged and in the country, how the hell do you connect with people? We've met (and know) some lovely people in the village and count them as good friends. They've made a huge difference to our lives here, but we would also like to meet other seed-sprouting, solar-showered, frugal-living people. On a good day, we are convinced that there is an enclave out there in East Sussex (we know, but Forest Row is too far away). We also suspect Hastings Old Town harbours a few like-minded people. So what's the equivalent of pampas grass for us? We live on less than a B road, so passing trade, as it were, is unlikely, but there is a compulsion to shout out in some coded way - cooo-eee, hippies this way! On a somewhat less superficial level, I think we both feel we missed out in some way back then. We were too young to really appreciate the sixties, the early to mid seventies was good, but then punk happened and I so didn't get it. We are also both from conventional homes and followed conventional paths -school, university, work - until now, when, gawd help us, we've finally rebelled a bit. The camper was all part of this and now, even though she lies a-rustin in the front garden, she is being turned into a bit of a statement. Heaven knows what the neighbours think, but now we've a proper bed in there, cushions and a bead curtain, all we need (courtesy of Freecycle, hopefully), is a lava lamp. I wonder where the turntable can go?

Ziggy Starrust

Richard's always wanted a camper van, so despite a fairly disastrous and very wet holiday in Wales in a rented VW, we went looking for a characterful secondhand model. When money was a bit more plentiful a few years back, we bought Aurora, a 1986 Bedford Autohomes Midi. We fell in love with all her "-ette" features, the kitch-ette at the back, the din-ette/bed-ette in the middle and the driving-ette bit in the front. Alas, Aurora's mechanics weren't quite so delightful as we found on our maiden voyage, a delayed honeymoon to Scotland. On the outskirts of Sevenoaks, about 30 miles from home, we broke down. Patched up, we got to Scotland and had a fantastic time, helped by the AA and various local mechanics who had virtually bunked-up with us by the end of the holiday. We were stuck in Crail, Fifeshire, for a few days on a fantastic campsite inches from the sea. The soundtrack for our stay there was Bert Jansch and John Renbourn's "Bert and John" and Christine Primrose's "Gun Sireadh, Gun Larraidh", a superb collection of Gaelic love songs. The title is translated as "Without Seeking, Without Asking" which is how we felt about the next mechanic who turned on the campsite at Gairloch, went off to actually make the bit-thingy required, came back to fix it the next day and said we could pop the money in when we were passing. I can't listen to those CDs without recalling the holiday, the fantastic scenery, the lovely people (especially the mechanics) and our long-held wish to live in Scotland, never quite abandoned.

Don't Want To Know

Been a bit low for a while, trying to find work for the last three months and getting absolutely no-where, nothing much out there (unless you are a teacher (no) or a social worker (no no). It's all incredibly depressing. I had no fixed ideas about what I'd be doing at this stage in my life, but I guess I figured I'd be working in some professional capacity up until retirement. Two careers down the line, I'm hearing the sound of doors shutting behind me and seemingly none opening in front of me. I'm also of an age which probably rules out re-training (again). We've made some lifestyle choices along the way which haven't helped in terms of work (largely living in the country away from centres of work), but everything else has been very positive. However, some (only some) of the things we want to do require more money - curses! Richard works three days a week and I work at home, doing piece-rate research work, plus selling a few things online. We make do and mend on about £12,000 a year, which is pretty tight. The beloved camper van (of which more later) has been off the road for 18 months, as we can't afford to repair it (or justify having two vehicles, even in the country). She sits, ageing gently, in the drive but is being given a new lease of life as our room in the garden ...

So in these somewhat challenging times, it's time to dig deep. The great reviver is, of course, music and the aptly named "Don't Want To Know" from the fabulous John Martyn's "Solid Air" album is the latest obsessional constant play. With fantastic keyboards from John Bundrick, guitar by the man himself and the incomparable Richard Thompson, sublime vocals, ah! 3.01 for pure gorgeousness. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stRmPH0PbPs for a much later and very different version and for a magnificent performance of the title track from the album, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohmSPv-rtSQ&feature=related, with Danny Thompson playing a blinder on double bass. Ooooh, I feel tons better already. And I've just found him singing the very lovely "May You Never" with Kathy Mattea. Oh, how I love YouTube.

An earlier album of Martyn's, "Bless The Weather", has been an all-time favourite since first hearing it in the mid 1970s. It's followed me around from university days in Moseley, through to Preston and now rural Sussex. The Island anthology "Sweet Little Mysteries" is highly recommended for catching up with his albums from 1971 through to 1987.