Jim Hennessy

Got some sad news last night about an old friend and colleague Jim Hennessy, seen here in typical red wine and smoking pose. He died in April this year.

I worked with Jim at the University of Brighton and we became great friends. He was charming, urbane, witty and full of fascinating stories. I remember him with great fondness and am sad that I never met up with him after he moved from Brighton to Totnes. I heard tales of him running a bookstall and learning languages. I can just see him, cooking, drink in hand, listening in to Spanish radio, probably ranting a bit.

Here's to you, Jim.

viva espana

Judith, this is just for you. Here we are in Spain again, trying to keep cool and wondering how the vegetable garden is getting on back home. We'll be back in a few days!

Warming the bones

Yikes. Has it really been so long since I wrote anything? I wonder what I've been up to since late July? Looking back at the largely unintelligible notes on the calendar, Shropshire again, I see, looking at houses, and various notes to self (becoming bolder and more insistent) to PAY NATIONAL INSURANCE (oh the joys of self-employment). An embarrassingly disastrous cat sitting in which one of the cats died (old age, nowt to do with me, guv) and another ran off never to be seen again. Numerous jumble sales. Visiting my brother in Spain and being trounced at Scrabble. And, oh yes, starting my HND in fine art, something I've been looking forward to for a long time. However, it's not been plain sailing, with staff absences and lacklustre performances creating quite the opposite of what I was looking for, namely focus and inspiration. We Shall See.

Otherwise, like everyone else, I am bemoaning the onset of the damp and dark, but a recent experience camping (yes, camping, in November) has thrown some light up and reminded me what this season is really about. We returned to Blackberry Wood for a few days over Samhain and had a glorious time (if somewhat cold and wet). Samhain is sometimes referred to as the Festival of the Dead, but in latter years, since an interest in such things has emerged, I know it to be about beginnings as well as endings: it is, in fact, the start of the Celtic year and is traditionally a time to take stock (literally, in terms of livestock) for the survival of the winter months. Bonfires play a large part, with the word "bonfire" coming from "bone fire", as animal bones were burnt for this festival as part of a purification process. Largely remembered for the evening before Samhain as "Halloween" (All Hallows' Even), it is also a time when ancestors and other departed souls are remembered. This year, we lit candles for all of the friends and family members who have passed on, and as we sat around our fire, we imagined them sitting there, warming their bones. Although this is a dark time, it is also a reminder that light times are ahead.

out of the habit

Since Oxford, we've also been back to Shropshire. It rained a lot, but the spirits weren't dampened one jot. A walk along Offa's Dyke proved exhausting, predicted by a conversation with a couple we met who were walking the Dyke over a week or so, who told us the stretch we were on was nicknamed "The Switchback". Indeed. Still, we were thrilled to see red kites soaring above us as we laboured away. We camped at a site with panoramic views of the Long Mynd, Stiperstones and Wenlock Edge. It's a fantastic county and, of course, our thoughts turned to a possible move. Actually, it's been part of my secret plan for ages (at least 25 years), which (shush) seems to be bearing just the tiniest hint of fruit. So, off there again next week ... It's obviously not a great time to be moving, and there is the minute detail of gainful employment to consider.

Meanwhile, back in the village, we are just getting over a 10 day festival, which saw us throwing teddy bears off the church tower (as you do, have to make your own fun, etc.), endless quizzes, much wine drinking, and a picnic and concert. The latter was a mixed affair - sumptuous picnic provided by chums, sitting about wondering what the poor people were doing, etc. The concert was well meaning and enjoyable for the audience participation which ensued. I hasten to say, this was encouraged by the performers. We were lucky to be sitting in front of a small number of enthusiastic joiners-in. We were unlucky in that we were sitting behind a row of stony-faced non-joiners-in. I mean, what else do you do (doobee-doobee-doo) when faced with songs from the shows? Sit there thinking about the credit crunch? I'm sure I was much too loud, with my singing along and appreciative comments to the fun folk behind us, but what the heck.

sub fusc

The spirits are revived after a short camping holiday in Oxfordshire, the main objective to attend a friend's wedding party. Putting a little distance between me and the PC is always appreciated. We couldn't resist a Park 'n' Ride trip to Oxford for me to revisit old haunts. I lived there in the late 1970s and again in 1984/5, each time trying to hold down really boring jobs. The first time, I was a college hanger-on. Managing to ignore the ever-growing social problems in the city, I went to balls, film festivals and tea parties, and spent lots of money at the wine merchant. But could the job have been duller? I don't think so - writing abstracts of articles on forestry, day in, day out. So walking through the University Parks on Saturday, I averted my gaze from the Forestry Institute. The second time, I worked in marketing for a small software company. Well, I say "marketing" because that was in my job title, but I soon found out that in this company marketing=jollies and was off-limits to a scrag-end like me. Instead, I did customer support (ye gods). The whole situation was made even more ghastly by horizontal goings-on between the managing director and another member of staff, and also by the fact I was living in a small commercial hotel close to the station. I lasted three months and then ran off to Brighton.

blur and oasis

The rest of May slipped by, in shudders of anxiety about one job, and uncertainty about another. The latter has been resolved, but the former still hangs over me, so I haven't been feeling very ticketyboo for a while and lying low at home. A couple of weeks' break from the art course also didn't help, as I felt somewhat lacking in the motivation to do anything without being prodded. Still, I have been busy: weeding, mainly. And some nice social, although at one do, I was declared "gobby" by a rather unpleasant woman. Perhaps she didn't think I would know what it meant? Anyway, I shall abandon all thoughts of social chitchat and mingling if I get that sort of thing thrown at me. Still, at the same do, Richard and I were declared to be "groovy", which is a lot lot nicer.

Richard took the old girl out on Saturday: we went for one of our occasional long walks in London, this time along the Thames Path, over Tower Bridge and then down to the Brick Lane area to catch up on some student art summer shows. Saw some fantastic design pieces and chatted away merrily to some of the students. The whole day was a great tonic, but sadly not good light conditions for photographs. Thank goodness for Photoshop.

blackberry way

Just got back from a week's camping at the gorgeous Blackberry Wood site in East Sussex, celebrating a non-significant birthday. A week of very simple living: cooking on a camp fire, reading, walking, lying in a hammock, ah - bliss. Bit of a shock to get home to work, essay writing, art making, veg planting, book reviewing, housework ... Still, birthday presents included a copy of the new Neil Cowley and, wonder of nostalgic wonders, Wishbone Ash's "Argus" from 1972. I haven't had a copy of it in many years, so delighted at last to be able to play along to Andy Powell on the Gibson Flying V and Ted Turner on Stratocaster. There was an odd coincidence just before my birthday when we were listening to an Inspector Rebus novel. At one point, Rebus is musing which his favourite track on "Argus" is - at which point, me and the narrator say simultaneously "Throw Down The Sword!". Once again, the neighbours have become very familiar with this track over the last few days - it makes a change from the folk down the road who seem obsessed by "Daydream Believer".