Take a glance to the right and you might enjoy a new set of slides from the last 6 months or so.
Some are holiday snaps, some are local, some are the people who've helped keep life interesting and fun in the Millbrooker household.
Enjoy (possibly).
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Entertaining in a Building Site
It's not much of a secret that Mrs The Millbrooker and I live in a building site, a house in a perpetual state of Being Done Up.
Long time readers might remember that our living room was being converted into a new kitchen with the work starting early last spring. For many reasons, not least the very sad demise of Graham our builder halfway through the works, work is still ongoing.
The new (Georgian sash) front window is in and we're awaiting some custom made shutters. The plastering is done. And the floors are half done - sanding and varnishing still to do.
So - how to entertain in such a space?
Well, we managed something of a Heath Robinson affair last night for a meal with Grandma-Dong-the-Legend (don't ask) and Shazzerooneypoos.
Hmm - a nicely set up dining table amid the plaster-pink walls. But wait - what sort of a dining table has legs like that?
Yep, a plastic patio table hauled in to do service until we have something a little more solid available.
And, what a nice little side table for the wine rack - sitting in the soon-to-be-filled-with-range-cooker chimney breast niche. . .
. . .or perhaps it's just a pile of coloured ceramic tiles plonked there out of the way until it's time to stick them to worktops and use them as splashbacks. Ah yes, so it is.
One day - perhaps even one day this year - we'll be able to entertain in the same space but with proper furniture and some paint on the walls. That'd be nice.
Long time readers might remember that our living room was being converted into a new kitchen with the work starting early last spring. For many reasons, not least the very sad demise of Graham our builder halfway through the works, work is still ongoing.
The new (Georgian sash) front window is in and we're awaiting some custom made shutters. The plastering is done. And the floors are half done - sanding and varnishing still to do.
So - how to entertain in such a space?
Hmm - a nicely set up dining table amid the plaster-pink walls. But wait - what sort of a dining table has legs like that?
And, what a nice little side table for the wine rack - sitting in the soon-to-be-filled-with-range-cooker chimney breast niche. . .
Friday, January 27, 2012
Strawbs Alert
Mrs The Millbrooker and I have already got tickets (as have Dong, Shazzerooneypoos and Slocombe) and I recommend that anyone stumbling across this post gets onto the Hall for Cornwall website with unseemly haste to secure themselves a set of entry vouchers as well.
Ladies and germs - the legendary Strawbs will be playing in Truro on 06th June this year. Good seats are still available as I write, but I wouldn't bet on things staying that way for long.
It's an almost reasonable £18.50-£20.50 a ticket (plus the Hall for Cornwall's fees of £1.50 per ticket and £1.50 per transaction - a bit naughty, that, I reckon, but that's how it is).
For anyone who doesn't know (or remember) the band in its heyday, here's The Hangman and the Papist from Top of the Pops in 1971. Oh yes, this sort of thing used to get well into the charts I'll have you know. Sadly Rick Wakeman (on keyboards in this video) isn't with the band now, having long ago established his career as a solo artist and on-off member of Yes.
Film Club Presents
After last week's rather excellent Mammuth (opinions did differ, I should say) we're staying in France for this week's presentation.
We are, however, heading back in time a little.
This week at the usual time and in the usual place (we're moving back upstairs the week after) we have Henri-Goerges Clouzot's 1955 film noir/horror/thriller Les Diaboliques.
An interesting factette shamelessly nicked from the invaluable IMdb website:
"The film is based on [the] novel 'Celle qui n'etait plus' (She Who Was no More). Alfred Hitchcock also attempted to buy the rights to this novel; Boileau and Narceiac (the novel's authors) subsequently wrote 'D'Entre le Morts' (From Among the Dead) especially for Hitchcock, who filmed it as Vertigo."
Hope to see all the usual suspects on Sunday evening.
We are, however, heading back in time a little.
This week at the usual time and in the usual place (we're moving back upstairs the week after) we have Henri-Goerges Clouzot's 1955 film noir/horror/thriller Les Diaboliques.
"The film is based on [the] novel 'Celle qui n'etait plus' (She Who Was no More). Alfred Hitchcock also attempted to buy the rights to this novel; Boileau and Narceiac (the novel's authors) subsequently wrote 'D'Entre le Morts' (From Among the Dead) especially for Hitchcock, who filmed it as Vertigo."
Hope to see all the usual suspects on Sunday evening.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
A Cousin Neil Revival
Millbrook must brace itself for the arrival of yet another cousin of mine.
You might think that simply having a Cousin Dave would be quite enough cousin for anyone. And you might well have a point.
And yet there are, believe it or not, more of the cousinly ilk scattered around the locale (and some a tad further flung). Cousin Dave has a brace of brothers, one currently dwelling in St Budeaux who spends his days pottering around the Land Registry; one who lives near Scunthorpe who spends his days looking at womanly parts that one isn't supposed to look at unless you're a gynaecologist. Which he is, so that's alright then.
And then my dad's other brother begat Cousin Lynn and Cousin Neil. And it's Cousin Neil who is coming to see us along with his lovely partner Mim.
This is Cousin Neil partaking of a red tinged and highly favoured family pastime. You might also like to note the half of an Uncle Arthur (Cousin Neil's old man) on the left of the shot.
We've been on the low-level Christmas-card-each-year sort of terms with Neil and Mim for some years; you know how life has a habit of being in the way. Too many things to do, too little time to spend gassing and drinking beer.
Cousin Neil decided after the most recent round of Christmas cards that it was high time to re-establish contact at a much better level than a hastily scrawled note once a year.
And so we found ourselves gathered just after Christmas at everyone's favourite pub for a chinwag and catch-up; Neil, Mim and their boys were staying nearby and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. And it was.
Which brings us to the present. Neil and Mim will be arriving at Millbrooker Towers for a night of endless gasbagging and familial silliness this Saturday.
Do try to control your excitement in the cheap seats, will you?
You might think that simply having a Cousin Dave would be quite enough cousin for anyone. And you might well have a point.
And yet there are, believe it or not, more of the cousinly ilk scattered around the locale (and some a tad further flung). Cousin Dave has a brace of brothers, one currently dwelling in St Budeaux who spends his days pottering around the Land Registry; one who lives near Scunthorpe who spends his days looking at womanly parts that one isn't supposed to look at unless you're a gynaecologist. Which he is, so that's alright then.
And then my dad's other brother begat Cousin Lynn and Cousin Neil. And it's Cousin Neil who is coming to see us along with his lovely partner Mim.
This is Cousin Neil partaking of a red tinged and highly favoured family pastime. You might also like to note the half of an Uncle Arthur (Cousin Neil's old man) on the left of the shot.
Cousin Neil decided after the most recent round of Christmas cards that it was high time to re-establish contact at a much better level than a hastily scrawled note once a year.
And so we found ourselves gathered just after Christmas at everyone's favourite pub for a chinwag and catch-up; Neil, Mim and their boys were staying nearby and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. And it was.
Do try to control your excitement in the cheap seats, will you?
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Hiring a Band
Ah, the wonders of Facebook. I had little or nothing to drivel about until I came across this wonderful piece which had been shared by Peter and Maurice via the Gigspanner FB page.
It was posted by Brian Heywood of the Musicians' Union, it certainly raised a smile. Methinks there's a wee grain of truth within this "letter" . . . .
. . .
"Dear Band Leader:
It was posted by Brian Heywood of the Musicians' Union, it certainly raised a smile. Methinks there's a wee grain of truth within this "letter" . . . .
"Dear Band Leader:
We look forward to your performance at our daughter's wedding. If you don't mind, we would like to request a few of our favorite songs.
Please play these during the reception:
A Keith Jarrett composition from his solo series. Please arrange it for full ensemble in the key of B but nothing in 4/4 please.
Mahavishnu Orchestra, "The Dance of Maya" and please have the guitarist play John McLaughlin's solo from the live performance Nov. 16, 1972 at Chrysler Arena. My wife and I were at that show and we liked his use of polyrhythms.
One of John Coltrane's duets with Pharaoh Sanders. Our guests love high register tenor saxes.
We thought a little Stravinsky right after the toast would be nice. So please play "The Rite of Spring." We like a tempo of about 1/4 note = 93; it would also be much more appropriate for this occasion in a slightly lower key.
Then for the candle lighting ceremony, please play Frank Zappa's "The Grand Wazoo." The original key of B flat, would be fine but my cousin Jeannie would like to sing the baritone sax solo in the key of D - she has kind of a high voice.
When my new son-in-law takes off the garter, please play just a little of Varese
And for the bride & groom's first dance, please slow things down a bit by doing Barber's "Adagio For Strings." It's so much better than "We've Only Just Begun" or the "Anniversary Waltz."
When my wife and I join in the first dance, could you segue to Thelonius Monk's "Ruby, My Dear" - it's in honor of my wife's grandmother whose name was Ruby. It would mean so much to the family. Thanks for all your help.
Depending on the outcome we'll certainly be happy to recommend your band to our friends. We'll have your cheque for the fee of £240 (minus our expenses in contacting you of £12.50) by the end of next month: we're a little short as the young lady doing the balloon arch wanted her £1,200 in advance and the DJ had to be paid his £2,500 cash up front as normal.
Our daughter assured us that your love of music was greater than your need for money, and that you would welcome the exposure you would get from playing this wedding. Before you leave, please feel free to ask the caterer for a sandwich and a soft drink. Please use the back entrance to avoid disturbing the guests.
All the best
Martin"
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Goodbye Guardian We Must (Sort Of) Leave You
I've lived through the re-formatting disturbances when the paper changed from broadsheet to "Berliner" format; I tried to leave for while but the delights of Steve Bell lured me back.
But today marks a landmark in Guardian reading within Millbrooker Towers. Today is the last day we shall have a printed copy of the left-liberal rag of choice for earnest leftists from our subscription.
The subscription ends today and we've not renewed it. That's a bit sad, I guess, but it's also part of how the world is moving on. I listened to Alan Rusbridger (Guardian editor) on the radio only yesterday describing how the paper was trying keep up with both technological and political changes - the man spoke a deal of sense.
I still get the Guardian every day, delivered to wherever I am in the world in the early hours of the morning, missing only the Steve Bell cartoon (a sad omission which I hope the powers that be will rectify soon).
Now I get the news analysis that I enjoy (or get spittingly angry at, sometimes both) on my much-loved Kindle upon which I can actually read the articles without recourse to magnifying glass and exceedingly bright lighting. Huzzah!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Brilliant Filters
A couple of weeks back I had to go and see some people at the Low Vision clinic in Totnes. The clinic is tucked away in the corner of a small trading estate just outside the town centre and is staffed by some very kind people indeed.
After a short wait Mrs The Millbrooker and I were shown into a room with a fellow who I'll simply call "Mr Low-Vision-Expert". Or perhaps Mr LVE for short. This is because I can't for the life of me remember his actual job title nor his name. Shameful, I know, but even I can't be perfect all the time, you know.
One of the "advantages" of being registered as severely visually impaired (the old term was "registered blind", but we're not supposed to use the B word anymore) is that you get access to people like Mr LVE who have a vast knowledge of how to make things a bit easier for VIPs like yours truly.
I came away from the clinic with three gadgets on loan to see how I get on. I have a minifier which does the opposite to a magnifier. It looks like this. . .
. . .and, for someone with a restricted field of vision like me, it "minifies" my surroundings and thus increases the field that I can see. Ingenious.
I also have, on loan, a powerful little magnifier with a bright LED light close to the lens which is great for spot-reading - bus timetables, receipts and the like.
Best of all, though, is the set of UV and blue light filters that I now sport on my physog with alarming frequency.
For years and years, I've not ventured outside without sunglasses, even on the most overcast and dull of days. This is because daylight in particular and bright light in general is very uncomfortable, occasionally even painful (this is called being "photo-sensitive", medical term fans).
These orange coloured goggles, which fit over my ordinary distance vision glasses and block every teensy ray of UV and blue light from getting anywhere near my retina, have put a stop to that. Which means that I now only need sunglasses in the brightest of conditions. So now what vision I have is enhanced by my being able to use as much available light as possible.
They might not look very cool (although they have a certain Bono-ish rock-star chic, I feel), but I just love them.
Next comes the talking watch for those low light times when I can't see even the clearest of watch faces. It's all a learning curve, and I shall learn.
After a short wait Mrs The Millbrooker and I were shown into a room with a fellow who I'll simply call "Mr Low-Vision-Expert". Or perhaps Mr LVE for short. This is because I can't for the life of me remember his actual job title nor his name. Shameful, I know, but even I can't be perfect all the time, you know.
One of the "advantages" of being registered as severely visually impaired (the old term was "registered blind", but we're not supposed to use the B word anymore) is that you get access to people like Mr LVE who have a vast knowledge of how to make things a bit easier for VIPs like yours truly.
I came away from the clinic with three gadgets on loan to see how I get on. I have a minifier which does the opposite to a magnifier. It looks like this. . .
. . .and, for someone with a restricted field of vision like me, it "minifies" my surroundings and thus increases the field that I can see. Ingenious.
I also have, on loan, a powerful little magnifier with a bright LED light close to the lens which is great for spot-reading - bus timetables, receipts and the like.
Best of all, though, is the set of UV and blue light filters that I now sport on my physog with alarming frequency.
These orange coloured goggles, which fit over my ordinary distance vision glasses and block every teensy ray of UV and blue light from getting anywhere near my retina, have put a stop to that. Which means that I now only need sunglasses in the brightest of conditions. So now what vision I have is enhanced by my being able to use as much available light as possible.
They might not look very cool (although they have a certain Bono-ish rock-star chic, I feel), but I just love them.
Next comes the talking watch for those low light times when I can't see even the clearest of watch faces. It's all a learning curve, and I shall learn.
A Delightful Piece of Mail
Yesterday morning our very kind postie plopped a large envelope onto the porch floor and Mrs The Millbrooker, being first down the stairs, got to open it.
The contents raised a big smile and, I think, say a great deal more about the sender than they do about the addressees. Nonetheless, we were inordinately proud to receive a certificate from "The National Association of Quality Standards in Hospitality for England and Wales" signed by one "Archibald Taxidermy Arbuthnott".
We sincerely hope that Mr Taxidermy Arbuthnott might consider staying with us again sometime in the not too distant.
The contents raised a big smile and, I think, say a great deal more about the sender than they do about the addressees. Nonetheless, we were inordinately proud to receive a certificate from "The National Association of Quality Standards in Hospitality for England and Wales" signed by one "Archibald Taxidermy Arbuthnott".
Film Club Presents
So here we go again, the Millbrooker Towers film 2012 film season began last week with a rollicking piece of hokum from Quentin Tarantino (general verdict on Inglourious Basterds seemed to be positive).
And this coming Sunday we shall continue with another quite modern offering Gustave de Kervern and Benoit Delepine's 2010 road-movie-cum-black-comedy-cum-drama Mammuth.
And the reason, for those interested, that this particular film got onto the film club watching list was this review.
Depardieu can be a bit of an acquired taste - I've seen him in wonderful form (in Jean de Florette for example) and he's made some absolute stinkers as well. Let's hope the critics are right and that Mammuth is one of his best performances for ages - we'll find out at the usual time and in the usual place . . .
Hope to see all the usual suspects there.
And this coming Sunday we shall continue with another quite modern offering Gustave de Kervern and Benoit Delepine's 2010 road-movie-cum-black-comedy-cum-drama Mammuth.
Depardieu can be a bit of an acquired taste - I've seen him in wonderful form (in Jean de Florette for example) and he's made some absolute stinkers as well. Let's hope the critics are right and that Mammuth is one of his best performances for ages - we'll find out at the usual time and in the usual place . . .
Hope to see all the usual suspects there.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
South American Stories
Well, not much of a story as such.
The latest from Jah Cousteau in Buenos Aires . . .
"One expensive watch, one expensive mp3 player and one expensive head torch stolen while I was asleep and they were right next to my head . . .yeah . . .shit."
The latest from Jah Cousteau in Buenos Aires . . .
"One expensive watch, one expensive mp3 player and one expensive head torch stolen while I was asleep and they were right next to my head . . .yeah . . .shit."
So, allowing for annoyances like that, what on earth might have attracted a young fellow like Jah to such a place. I simply cannot fathom it. Perhaps you can . . .
. . .oops, wrong photo. I'll try again . . .
An Exciting Parcel
It was 18 months ago, or very close to that figure, that the High Lord of Southwick encouraged my attempts at music making by sending me a wonderful present.
On Thursday of this week, I was the lucky recipient of another very exciting parcel that was heaved into Millbrooker Towers. This time it was a present to myself. I don't do this sort of thing very often, but it was a case of both lustful desire and logistical necessity.
It weighs in at around 36lb (that's just under 16.5 kilos, metric fans) and with a modicum of difficulty and no minor danger to the lumbar region, I eased it from its cardboard encasement.
Isn't she beautiful? For the nerds amongst us, she's a "Line 6 Spider IV 75 modeling amplifier". For everyone else she's a bloomin' loud bugger that makes lots and lots of wondrous noises when you plug a guitar into it.
I had great fun last night playing with the various knobs and the LCD displayed presets - making my guitar sound like David Gilmour's on Comfortably Numb was hugely amusing. Unfortunately I can't play like David Gilmour so the guitar sounded right, but the playing certainly didn't. Not to mention that I play an acoustic with a single bridge pick-up and Mr G plays a very expensive Stratocaster with umpteen pick-ups and a tremolo arm and has his sound controlled by a small army of technicians.
So why the "logistical necessity?" I hear the question being whispered from the peanut gallery.
It's because, after a gap of 17 (count 'em) years, I'm in a band again. And my debut will be in only a week and bit's time at Torpoint Council Hall (ok, it's not quite the Albert Hall, but we've all got to begin-again somewhere).
For those interested in such things the band is currently (but probably not for much longer) called the Lords of Misrule and we're aimed squarely at the ceilidh market. Anyone unsure what a ceilidh is - firstly you need to get out more often, secondly it's important to know that it's not a spectator sport, thirdly watch this video to see the Committee Band entertaining at just such an event.
'Tis no accident that I chose the Committee Band for the example - their former bassist is now with us lot and a fine musician he is too - worth the entrance money on his own, I'd say.
So if you or someone you know is thinking of holding a ceilidh, or thinks they might suffer from such an affliction, I am in the happy position of being able to recommend a fine bunch of people who will be happy to entertain you and yours in return for a very reasonable handful of your English pounds (or a small barrowful of euros).
On Thursday of this week, I was the lucky recipient of another very exciting parcel that was heaved into Millbrooker Towers. This time it was a present to myself. I don't do this sort of thing very often, but it was a case of both lustful desire and logistical necessity.
I had great fun last night playing with the various knobs and the LCD displayed presets - making my guitar sound like David Gilmour's on Comfortably Numb was hugely amusing. Unfortunately I can't play like David Gilmour so the guitar sounded right, but the playing certainly didn't. Not to mention that I play an acoustic with a single bridge pick-up and Mr G plays a very expensive Stratocaster with umpteen pick-ups and a tremolo arm and has his sound controlled by a small army of technicians.
It's because, after a gap of 17 (count 'em) years, I'm in a band again. And my debut will be in only a week and bit's time at Torpoint Council Hall (ok, it's not quite the Albert Hall, but we've all got to begin-again somewhere).
For those interested in such things the band is currently (but probably not for much longer) called the Lords of Misrule and we're aimed squarely at the ceilidh market. Anyone unsure what a ceilidh is - firstly you need to get out more often, secondly it's important to know that it's not a spectator sport, thirdly watch this video to see the Committee Band entertaining at just such an event.
'Tis no accident that I chose the Committee Band for the example - their former bassist is now with us lot and a fine musician he is too - worth the entrance money on his own, I'd say.
So if you or someone you know is thinking of holding a ceilidh, or thinks they might suffer from such an affliction, I am in the happy position of being able to recommend a fine bunch of people who will be happy to entertain you and yours in return for a very reasonable handful of your English pounds (or a small barrowful of euros).
**********
The Lords of Misrule
(name change pending - watch this space)
ceilidh band
available for weddings, bar mitzvahs, garden parties, funerals, envelope openings...
please email
oliake@hotmail.com
or leave a comment on this blog
more self-serving advertising of this nature to follow soon.
Friday, January 13, 2012
A Murmuration
I'm indebted to Judith down in Kiwi Land for posting this, it's simply wonderful.
I can recall The Wizzers of Soz, Dozybean and Jah Cousteau many years ago returning to a holiday home we'd rented for a week in a state of high excitement having seen thousands of birds doing something like this in Brittany.
This video is truly spectacular and the two young women who made it must count themselves lucky indeed to have witnessed something quite this special.
Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
I can recall The Wizzers of Soz, Dozybean and Jah Cousteau many years ago returning to a holiday home we'd rented for a week in a state of high excitement having seen thousands of birds doing something like this in Brittany.
This video is truly spectacular and the two young women who made it must count themselves lucky indeed to have witnessed something quite this special.
Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
Film Club - Back at Last
It seems like an age since film club last convened at Millbrooker Towers. All sorts of eminently sensible reasons have stopped us having the usual suspects around on a Sunday evening to watch something that's, we hope, slightly outside the norm in terms of everyone's cinematic choices.
But - film club is back this Sunday - usual time, usual place.
This week's presentation, kindly supplied in return for a portion of Millbrooker money by cinemaparadiso.co.uk, will be Quentin Tarantino's 2009 idiosyncratic take on Nazi occupied France "Inglourious Basterds".
The film received mixed reviews on release but has slowly started to gain a reputation as something of a cult classic. So, fellow film clubbers, let's find out for ourselves.
Hope to see everyone there.
But - film club is back this Sunday - usual time, usual place.
This week's presentation, kindly supplied in return for a portion of Millbrooker money by cinemaparadiso.co.uk, will be Quentin Tarantino's 2009 idiosyncratic take on Nazi occupied France "Inglourious Basterds".
Hope to see everyone there.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
The Problem Page
I'm grateful to YarMatt for posting this on his Facebook wall. It raised a smile this morning.
Sunday, January 08, 2012
J Edgar Jumps the Broomstick
Ladies and germs, I'm delighted to be able to share a couple of photos of Dong's young lad J.Edgar as he and Catherine got hitched this weekend.
I do enjoy a good wedding. Mrs The Millbrooker and I weren't in attendance so I can't pretend to give any sort of commentary on proceedings. This, of course, means that you lot in the cheap seats will just have to make do with the photos and be duly grateful.
I'm sure everyone will join Mrs The Millbrooker and me in wishing the happy couple the very best for their future together.
Well done, J.Edgar, and well done Catherine.
I do enjoy a good wedding. Mrs The Millbrooker and I weren't in attendance so I can't pretend to give any sort of commentary on proceedings. This, of course, means that you lot in the cheap seats will just have to make do with the photos and be duly grateful.
I'm sure everyone will join Mrs The Millbrooker and me in wishing the happy couple the very best for their future together.
Well done, J.Edgar, and well done Catherine.
Millbrook Mumming
There's a minor argument to be had about when twelfth night actually is. Sensible people adhere to the traditionalists' view that as Christmas Eve is undeniably "first night", twelfth night must be January fifth.
Others argue that Christmas Day's evening constitutes the first night of Christmas and therefore twelfth night must be January sixth .
Wreckers Morris says - "arse to all that, we'll just make use of the nearest available Friday to either of those dates and celebrate then."
All of which brings me to the goings on at the Devon and Cornwall during the night of misrule instigated by us folk of the morris last Friday (which, as luck would have it, was the sixth - so at least one side of the minor argument must have been satisfied). So, lovers of shambolic Olde Englishe/Kernowek traditions, read on. . .
The night began with a couple of tunes, at least one of which featured the long-absent from these pages Harry "Ukulele" Barnett.
Through sheer good fortune, Harry also ended up being crowned as King of Misrule for the night by the Green Man.
Swiftly following the coronation, the mumming began as a riot of non-actors enacted utter nonsense featuring characters such as Betty Stoggs . . .
. . .and Beelzebub who battled long and hard with Meryll Sherry (any resemblance to an occasionally inebriated local MP is entirely coincidental).
Beelzebub won in the end (as he always does in mumming plays, quaint-country-custom fans) and Merryl Sherry hit the floor.
There was, of course, a doctor on hand to revive the stricken Merryl . . .
. . .using the finest medicine available over the bar.
With the mumming completed, the King and Queen of Misrule sat upon their thrones as the dancing commenced.
Almost lastly, but very far from least, everyone's favourite landlord was recognised as exactly that by the Lord of Misrule himself Wrichard Wrecker.
Russell was awarded a Wreckers Morris mug and a certificate naming the Devon and Cornwall as the provider of the best food and the warmest welcome of all the places we danced at in 2011.
At the very last, the crowns of the royal family of misrule were ceremonial burned along with the kissing bough (by now adorned with ribbon wishes from lots of people crowded around the bar).
And that, my friends, is what constitutes a twelfth night celebration in Millbrook. Whether it's the fifth or the sixth of January.
Perhaps you'd like to come along next year when something similar (but perhaps with minor tweaks) will occur once again. Huzzah!
Others argue that Christmas Day's evening constitutes the first night of Christmas and therefore twelfth night must be January sixth .
Wreckers Morris says - "arse to all that, we'll just make use of the nearest available Friday to either of those dates and celebrate then."
All of which brings me to the goings on at the Devon and Cornwall during the night of misrule instigated by us folk of the morris last Friday (which, as luck would have it, was the sixth - so at least one side of the minor argument must have been satisfied). So, lovers of shambolic Olde Englishe/Kernowek traditions, read on. . .
The night began with a couple of tunes, at least one of which featured the long-absent from these pages Harry "Ukulele" Barnett.
Russell was awarded a Wreckers Morris mug and a certificate naming the Devon and Cornwall as the provider of the best food and the warmest welcome of all the places we danced at in 2011.
Perhaps you'd like to come along next year when something similar (but perhaps with minor tweaks) will occur once again. Huzzah!
Thursday, January 05, 2012
And To You, Sis
We don't do them. It's not that we don't like each other or that we're stingy. It's simply that we both have mountains of "stuff" and because we don't live in each other's pockets (Cornwall and Lincolnshire are separated by a large chunk of England) we don't necessarily know what might make an appropriate gift anyway.
This year, as the festive season approached with alarming speed, I found a parcel on the doorstep with a note attached saying something along the lines of "saw this, couldn't resist despite our 'no present' rule".
And so, to Christmas Day and the grand unwrapping ceremony.
Oh - did I mention cartwheels at all?
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
Exodus - Movement of Jah Cousteau
The festive season brought both good things and sad things to the Millbrooker household. Boxing Day was one of those very-mixed-feeling days as we gathered en-famille at the Cross Keys Inn in Cawsand for lunch.
And a jolly fine lunch it was, too. It was, though, the last lunch we are going to share with Jah Cousteau for no-one knows how long.
As soon as the bill had been paid and the last dregs of ale had been drained, Mrs The Millbrooker and I had to leap into the car with young Jah and whisk him into Plymouth and the coach stop outside the Theatre Royal.
From whence he boarded the megabus to Bath to spend a couple of days with his dad.
Not before a hug with mum, mind you.
From his dad's place, Jah Cousteau set off on an odyssey that has no definite ending point.
Here's what we know - he left for Amsterdam to enjoy the New Year celebrations there. He left for Madrid the day after that and flew straight from Madrid via Rome to Buenos Aires on a one way ticket with no intention of returning permanently to the UK.
He's got enough to live frugally for a about a year before he has to find work and he'll have the company of a Spanish mate for the first eight weeks or so as they explore the length of Argentina. After that, the plan is to have no plan. Knowing Jah he'll try to long-board over the Andes.
Of course we think "good on you" and "I wish I'd done something like that when I was 23" - but saying cheerio for such an indefinite time is a hard thing to do.
I'll finish with a quote from our Christmas newsletter which we sent out with cards to people we'd not seen this year:
As soon as the bill had been paid and the last dregs of ale had been drained, Mrs The Millbrooker and I had to leap into the car with young Jah and whisk him into Plymouth and the coach stop outside the Theatre Royal.
Here's what we know - he left for Amsterdam to enjoy the New Year celebrations there. He left for Madrid the day after that and flew straight from Madrid via Rome to Buenos Aires on a one way ticket with no intention of returning permanently to the UK.
He's got enough to live frugally for a about a year before he has to find work and he'll have the company of a Spanish mate for the first eight weeks or so as they explore the length of Argentina. After that, the plan is to have no plan. Knowing Jah he'll try to long-board over the Andes.
Of course we think "good on you" and "I wish I'd done something like that when I was 23" - but saying cheerio for such an indefinite time is a hard thing to do.
I'll finish with a quote from our Christmas newsletter which we sent out with cards to people we'd not seen this year:
"[He] would rather like to find work, after his first year away, using his diving and marine conservation skills and then stay overseas, possibly permanently. We, of course, wish him well and every success – but will miss him greatly and fervently hope that his overseas adventuring will end with a permanent return to somewhere considerably closer to home than South America"
and thank heavens for Skype and Facebook!
A Listening Opportunity For All
I've wittered on countless times on these pages about the multifarious chinwagging that Simon Pauley and I get up to on Insight Radio. And that relationship of a pair of amiable middle aged blokes gassing to each other for 10 minutes a week looks set fair to continue into the next millenium.
And now there is to be another format, and another station, in which you lucky people can listen to my honey-dripping dulcets over the airwaves.
I returned home yesterday after a day at Totnes Low Vision Clinic (more of which anon) to an answerphone message from one James Vickery. This is him, photographed in his natural habitat by the BBC Natural History Unit on safari in deepest Plymouth (not all of this statement is absolutely true):
My frequent visits to the BBC's small and airless NCA studio have attracted the attentions of the good people who dwell within the confines of The Beeb's Seymour Road studios and the young Mr V has asked if I'll go in and yap to him on air.
So, ladies and germs, if you're not otherwise occupied on this coming Tuesday at half past two in the afternoon you might like to tune into BBC Radio Devon - I'll be wittering on with James about being a VIP (visually impaired person), working for the railway, cooking and anything else that comes up.
And now there is to be another format, and another station, in which you lucky people can listen to my honey-dripping dulcets over the airwaves.
I returned home yesterday after a day at Totnes Low Vision Clinic (more of which anon) to an answerphone message from one James Vickery. This is him, photographed in his natural habitat by the BBC Natural History Unit on safari in deepest Plymouth (not all of this statement is absolutely true):
So, ladies and germs, if you're not otherwise occupied on this coming Tuesday at half past two in the afternoon you might like to tune into BBC Radio Devon - I'll be wittering on with James about being a VIP (visually impaired person), working for the railway, cooking and anything else that comes up.
So - that's BBC Radio Devon: online through the iPlayer at http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/console/bbc_radio_devon
or
at 97.5FM on your steam-driven wireless set
2:30 pm
Tuesday 10th Jan
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Tis The Season
. . .or do I mean "Twas The Season.."?
I began writing this post between Christmas and New Year, ran out of time and have now been obliged to delete the first two paragraphs as completely irrelevant to the time in which we currently exist - today being the 3rd of January. So, to continue where I left off all those days ago:
. . .a certain Millbrooker is finally returning to his sadly neglected and long un-updated blog to witter on about very little for another year or so.
What can I say about Christmas - we did pretty much what everyone else who marks the occasion did. Possibly in a different order, but much of a muchness all the same.
There was the big meal - we did it around one-ish and had a very posh version of mushrooms on toast to start, roast venison and all the trimmings for mains and traditional microwaved Sainsbury's-own-brand Christmas pud with plenty of brandy.
We also treated ourselves to a once-a-year foray into the depths of the understairs wine cellar, or wine-pile-boxes-in-a-small-cupboard to be a tad more precise, and emerged with a bottle of Chateau Meyney 2004 . . . mmmmmmm.
Presents were presented during a long-ish break between venison and puds on the grounds that everyone was already too full up to manage a few mouthfuls of brandy-fueled stodge.
I'll concentrate for the purposes of brevity on the main event of present giving between Mrs The Millbrooker and me. This will save readers the sheer boredom of hearing all about the myriad stuff that everyone in the house offered up to everyone else. All of which was, of course, gratefully and gladly received but probably doesn't make for a scintillating read. (No change there then, I hear you cry).
In a quandary (as almost every year) as to what might make a suitable gift for a wife who has everything including a handsome beast of a husband, I finally settled on taking an adventurous trek to Falmouth. Just me, you understand, to revisit a shop that we'd been in together a few weeks before and in which Mrs The Millbrooker had admired a coat; the like of which I'd not seen before nor anywhere since. She seemed very pleased. Which was (and is), of course, the point of the exercise.
And Mrs The Millbrooker (along with all the younger generation) bought me a minor miracle in technological form.
Ah yes - a Kindle.
Thanks to my rubbish eyesight I had more or less stopped reading the printed page. a joy of more years standing than should politely be remembered seemed lost forever. Now, with the adjustable font sizes and the clarity of Amazon's "E-Ink" I can read comfortably again. I'm well over half way through Wuthering Heights after only a couple of days of Kindle usage. Brilliant.
And now I'll sign off from this post by taking the opportunity to belatedly wish everyone a very Happy New Year and may 2012 bring you everything you wish. I even include the Plymouth Land Registry readers who moaned to Shazzerooneypoos about the lack of drivellings over the last few weeks. Happy New Year Land Registry Wallahs - there'll be plenty more drivelling coming up very soon!
Especially for you here's Shazzerooneypoos on new Year's Day in the rain.
. . .a certain Millbrooker is finally returning to his sadly neglected and long un-updated blog to witter on about very little for another year or so.
What can I say about Christmas - we did pretty much what everyone else who marks the occasion did. Possibly in a different order, but much of a muchness all the same.
There was the big meal - we did it around one-ish and had a very posh version of mushrooms on toast to start, roast venison and all the trimmings for mains and traditional microwaved Sainsbury's-own-brand Christmas pud with plenty of brandy.
Presents were presented during a long-ish break between venison and puds on the grounds that everyone was already too full up to manage a few mouthfuls of brandy-fueled stodge.
I'll concentrate for the purposes of brevity on the main event of present giving between Mrs The Millbrooker and me. This will save readers the sheer boredom of hearing all about the myriad stuff that everyone in the house offered up to everyone else. All of which was, of course, gratefully and gladly received but probably doesn't make for a scintillating read. (No change there then, I hear you cry).
In a quandary (as almost every year) as to what might make a suitable gift for a wife who has everything including a handsome beast of a husband, I finally settled on taking an adventurous trek to Falmouth. Just me, you understand, to revisit a shop that we'd been in together a few weeks before and in which Mrs The Millbrooker had admired a coat; the like of which I'd not seen before nor anywhere since. She seemed very pleased. Which was (and is), of course, the point of the exercise.
Thanks to my rubbish eyesight I had more or less stopped reading the printed page. a joy of more years standing than should politely be remembered seemed lost forever. Now, with the adjustable font sizes and the clarity of Amazon's "E-Ink" I can read comfortably again. I'm well over half way through Wuthering Heights after only a couple of days of Kindle usage. Brilliant.
And now I'll sign off from this post by taking the opportunity to belatedly wish everyone a very Happy New Year and may 2012 bring you everything you wish. I even include the Plymouth Land Registry readers who moaned to Shazzerooneypoos about the lack of drivellings over the last few weeks. Happy New Year Land Registry Wallahs - there'll be plenty more drivelling coming up very soon!
Especially for you here's Shazzerooneypoos on new Year's Day in the rain.
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