A Quiet Night In

 

It’s still hot here in the UK, Wimbledon started and the World Cup is in the knockout stages; either one or all three of these factors meant that the crowd at the Milford Arms was a fraction of its normal size. This of course was fine with me because I don’t like crowds but for the people who run the jazz club it was a bit discouraging, especially since it’s only been in the current venue for two months and I think they are worried about getting the boot if the numbers drop.

As I said it’s still hot, which I hate but it’s a shame Neil would have loved this weather. For the past three summers he’s complained about it not being hot and sunny – even though it was, just only for a few days which I’d prefer. But we’re going into our third week of 80°+ heat which is a bit extreme for a place with very little air conditioning.

Today is four months since Neil died. I still can’t believe it, but that’s why I’m writing this today and not him. Although I miss him every day some days little things happen that remind of things I’ve totally forgotten about. Like last week while Derek Nash was playing he licked the tip of his index finger and gestured an exclamation point. I don’t really know what that means but Neil used to do that when he’d done something he was proud of and wanted credit for. Last night it was me taking notes for the blog on the raffle tickets. When Neil was well and writing the blog he always kept about four recycled envelopes  in his pocket for taking notes. They could be used for anything but at the jazz he usually used them to take notes like, the songs that were played or little events that happened like someone spilling their drink on the jazz club villain and him storming off as a result … Result!

A lot of nights at the jazz club would be either a night that he enjoyed or one that I enjoyed. Last night though I think would have been the rare occasion where I liked one half and he liked the other. Last night was a night of two halves. The first half was dominated by the smooth and spicy sounds of Theo Travis. I love the sax and have since I was a teenager, and Theo plays my kind of sax. I think he could make it on the smooth jazz circuit if he were looking for some extra income.

The first half included some of my favorites like Recorda Me and In a Sentimental Mood - a song that almost anyone would know even if they didn’t know jazz, it’s been in movie soundtracks and is a classic. For me it’s a song that would come to mind when you think of the sax .

The second half was more upbeat and featured more of the screeching trumpet and flugelhorn of Steve Waterman. I love a screechy trumpet while Neil loved a mute, he’d get excited whenever one was used. And like he always said, “If we were the same it would be boring”. I like smooth things  whereas he thought smooth music was "inoffensive" which for Neil was not a compliment. Neil liked things to “grab you by the lapel and shake you”, so I think he would have really enjoyed the second half after probably sleeping through the first.

It’s the first week of July so of course Tim Wells was playing the bass. The “Baltimore bass man” as he’s known always seems to be at the jazz club around the 4^th of July. The first year I wished him a happy 4^th, he kind of rolled his eyes at me. It was okay, I was never really been a fan anyway. And because he was there the band played Old Blues which I said to Martin must be his favorite song because whenever he comes (which is at least once a month) they play it.

One of Martin’s favorites was on keys, John Horler. No original music last night which is a shame. They usually play one of his pieces when he comes. And of course Trevor Tomkins was on drums, and in another lovely shirt from Ghana. I told him, maybe it’s the shirt! Last week he was on fire and this week he was still smoldering. The band played Joy Spring again (Derek Nash, et al played it last week) but I liked this week's version better.

I thought I’d end this week’s write up with a story about Theo Travis. The first time I remember seeing him I told Neil he looked like Rev. Richard Coles who was in a Pop band in the 80’s called the Communards. Neil agreed with my observation. The next time Theo Travis came to our club I asked Martin “Have you heard of the Communards?” He made a perplexed face and said “Yes”. I said “This guy looks like the keyboard player, I can’t remember his name but he’s a vicar now.” Martin’s face looked even more confused after that. When I asked him if he’d heard of the Communards he thought I meant the Paris Commune not the 80’s Pop band. But after a few minutes he agreed that Theo Travis does resemble the Rev. Richard Coles.

What do you think?



Rev Richard Coles

 

Theo Travis

One of Neil's write ups on Theo Travis

One of Neil's write ups on the Communards (Paris Commune not the 80's Pop band) 

 

Robyn G. M. Harris

(a One Day at a Time Production)

 

 

'Old Isleworth'

On Sunday morning I was waiting to meet Robyn and for part of the time I had a walk around 'Old Isleworth'.

It's not looking so well these days;

Isleworth is a working class community and I was privileged to represent some of the people there, over the years. Since the 1980's of Margaret Thatcher, 'Old Isleworth' has been trying to drive out the poorer people - it's been getting much more of a problem recently.

This used to be 'Isleworth Coaches', a big employer;

It wasn't old and it wasn't particularly beautiful but it was a big employer and part of driving people away is getting rid of their jobs.

These perfectly good buildings had years of life left in them, as did the people who worked there but the problem is they were down by the riverbank and that makes them prime real estate.

As I was taking pictures three groups of people came up to me and asked if I'd worked there. The site plainly meant a lot to local people and the arrival of flats for rich people isn't at all welcome.

These days the cement and steel is recycled, which is more than you can say for the people.

Brentford and Isleworth were once river communities - effectively ports and docks with boat services too.

Nearly all of that has gone now - there are a few boatyards hanging on at Brentford. While at Isleworth there are a few working boats left;

But it won't be long before they are gone too - just like the Thames Lightermen (Cargo) and Watermen (passengers) I once knew.

The river bank still keeps a few secrets to tell you this was once a working river.....from the days before building materials were recycled;

And not far from the new luxury flats there's a big flow of water into the river - it's from Mogden, West London's major sewage works.

Here's the 'river' just before it joins The Thames;

I walked on to 'The London Apprentice', it's a pub near the nicest part of the river and still unspoilt. I wandered about on the bank but I wasn't feeling so well and started off back to my car.

At least the birds were getting fed;

Neil Harris
(a don't stop till you drop production)
Home: helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com
Contact me: neilwithpromisestokeep@gmail.com

The Birdman of Isleworth.

Sunday and I'm still ill but the problems I had (which looked like it was something much, much worse) died down. It's just a virus.

Instead Robyn's really ill now.

I was waiting to pick Robyn up on Sunday morning and I wandered down to 'Old Isleworth', checking out what little sun there was when I saw this;

Loads of people feed the birds here - for a start some Hindhu's are required to be kind to animals and it's a bit hard to do that in a modern, urban world - so they feed the birds.

So do lots of other people too. I should explain that all around were dozens of geese, pigeons and seagulls......waiting.

But the swans assembled as soon as they saw this guy and the other birds knew they weren't in with a chance and wandered off to find someone else;

 

 

 

Hopefully, we'll be back to normal soon.

 

Neil Harris

(a don't stop till you drop production)

 

Home: helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com

Contact me: neilwithpromisestokeep@gmail.com



In a hole - 53000 thanks!

I'm full of holes - well four - but it's enough.

Here's how I got them;

I had to go up to Charing Cross hospital for an infusion for my spine at 1130 am so we were aiming to be there for 9-00am for my blood samples to be taken so that they could do the tests in time.

We drove to Hounslow West, found a parking space and made the long walk to the Tube....except that when we got there the station was closed and the whole Bath Road into Hounslow was shut - it was chaos everywhere. All the roads were blocked, the busses were lost. 

Chaos in every direction.

I was furious - there was no way of getting to the hospital in time and I was told by a police officer the tube would be shut all day.

At the time it was obvious there had been a fight - if it was a suicide the road wouldn't have been shut.

It was just as obvious that it had happened at night because people don't get into that kind of argument at 8 am.

So, if there were forensic tests to be done there was time to isolate those areas and leave the road open.

Back at home I discovered that they opened the tube up at 10 00am anyway.

Doh!

So, because I didn't know that I started roaming the back streets and alleys of West London trying to find somewhere to park near another tube station, which was impossible, of course.

We ended up driving all the way to Brentford and catching a bus instead. Except I had negative money on my oyster card because I was going to fill it up at the tube station.

We got to the hospital an hour and a half late, tired out and annoyed. I would have even thought about getting a cab - except I'd run out of cash - I was going to get some on the way home.

Hole 1.

So I struggled into hospital and took up my place in the huge queue for phlebotomy.

There was nearly a riot.

We used to have two phlebotomists and two spare chairs which meant that when it was busy the receptionists could help out by taking blood samples to cut the queue.

Except that the hospital has just spent a lot of money remodelling the clinic (why?) and now there are only two chairs instead of four and they privatised phlebotomy.

It takes even longer than it did before, the phlebotomists get paid less with less benefits, it costs the hospital more and everybody is unhappy except for the private healthcare providers who are mugging us all.

Holes 2 and 3

So when I sorted out the blood test we got lunch and struggled back to wait at Chemotherapy, where they were so overwhelmed with people they needed extra chairs.

I had my canula put in by a very nice nurse called Paul who was practising, so it took two goes to sort it out.

We got out at about 2-30 which was a bit of a miracle, I got some money on Hammersmith Broadway and then we caught a bus back in the middle of school kids rush hour.

Then we drove to West Middlesex hospital because Robyn needed to see a friend there who is seriously ill.

I dropped her off and searched for a space so I could park for free and then when I got back I couldn't remember his name so I couldn't find them. I spent some time accidently wandering around all the places I connect with the time when my cancer was really raging.

I ended up sitting in the little garden by the side of West Mid's front entrance.

I don't know why I did that because I knew it was going to annoy me.

In the olden days, farm labourers would be laid off work in the winter and a system of 'Poor Relief' developed so that they could survive till spring when there was work.

In 1834 that all changed - our great rulers decided that the poor were having it too easy. No more payments, now if you couldn't manage you were sent to 'The Workhouse'....like in Oliver Twist.

Once in you never got out. Families were separated, partners were too. So husbands and wives could only see each other on Sunday afternoons for an hour. Everyone was given pretend 'work' to do, like in prison.

This horror lasted from 1834 until 1947 when our present system of Social security and the NHS was established.

Except that the old buildings were retained and used for the new National Health Service.

So were the terrible attitudes too.

West Middlesex Hospital was previously the 'Parish Union' for the whole of Middlesex. In other words, because The Poor Law Commissioners' felt that the parishes were being too generous they were merged into giant Workhouses like West Mid.

These were hated institutions and rightly so. Their abolition by the 1945 Labour Government was hugely popular.

So as West Mid has been selling off its precious land for development what has it been doing?

Saving the foundation stones from the hated Workhouse buildings.

Here's a couple;

Me, I would have destroyed them in a ceremony and then had an artwork made from the fragments.

Alternatively, there would need to be some historic explanation and a little memorial to the victims of a system that was designed to punish the poor......for being poor.

Anyway, after all that ranting,  thank you for taking the Blog to 53000, it is very much appreciated on a really lousy day.

 

 

Hole 4?

 

I needed my injection when I got home.

 

Doh!

 

 

Neil Harris

(a don't stop till you drop production)

 

 

Home: helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com

 

Contact me: neilwithpromisestokeep@gmail.com

 



Mudlarking at The London Apprentice.

This is 'The London Apprentice' in Isleworth, built in the 18th Century but replacing a much older Tudor pub on the same site.

I'm standing on 'The Isleworth Stairs', a jetty built by Henry VIII to link Richmond Place in the grounds of today's Kew gardens to Isleworth by a ferry.

I was there for a spell of 'Mudlarking' because I had an hour to waste and that seemed a very positive way of wasting it.

The 'Mudlarks' were children sent out to work by their parents in The Thames Basin in the 19th century - they walked amongst the mud and silt at low tide, feeling with their toes for lumps of coal that had fallen off barges and ships.

I suspect they sometimes 'helped' some coal fall off a barge but what a way to earn your living?

Here's the mud; 



I should say that I'm not a proper 'Mudlark'; these days you need a licence for that from The Port of London Authority.

This is to protect the rich archaeological heritage of the foreshore. You would be amazed what has been dug up by the Mudlarks - from medieval bullets and swords to leather shoes.

It all has to be handed in.

Maybe Robyn and me should pay a trip to the Museum of London to see some of them.

Anyway, I was just wandering around, checking out the Swans and Geese at low tide, watching the Rowers training.

It was impossible to miss this;

Or this;

Scattered everywhere was a full Indian costume; gold threads and bright beads sparkling in the sunshine.

Some of the nicest items had already been rescued by dog walkers and were laid out on the railings.

Some were still lying around;

Just after I took this photo a family took this, they told me it still smelt of sandalwood;

 

 

I was very unhappy about the whole situation although in one way this could be a happy scene.

 

Rivers are sacred to the Hindhu religion and people often make offerings in this way.

 

While I was there a couple of Asian men were at the same spot, throwing bread and rice to the birds, as their form of Hinduism requires.

 

On the other hand, this was a whole celebration costume - Sari, bangles, golden scarves and everything, all washed up in the mud.

 

Was this a tragic scene - someone so unhappy at something that they wanted rid of the whole costume?

 

Had someone died and the family wanted to make an offering of a wedding costume?

 

I know it's not directly about a death, otherwise the clothes would have been all white.

 

But was it a crime scene I was looking at? An assault or a murder?

 

Or did someone get drunk?

 

Or just angry?

 

Just an accident or a tragedy?

 

I'll never know but like the dog walkers before me I found it upsetting and haunting.

 

Oh, I did find a rather muddy 20 pence piece which I don't think I'll be reporting to The Museum of London.

 

Neil Harris

 

(a don't stop till you drop production)

 

Home: helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com

Contact me: neilwithpromisestokeep@gmail.com