It all started with Jonathan Meades (doesn't it always) looking at Northerness and how it affects, amongst other things, Architecture. In Finland he described how a chap called Sonck created a uniquely Finnish architectural style. Here's Meades doing a better job than I ever could to describe this style...
I was somewhat inspired by this and started dreaming about my own dark, snug little burrow. I have often wanted to build my own house and earth sheltered housing has often been considered as I've planned and then replanned my fantasy home. My latest plan is to build a hobbit hole into the bank of a south facing hillside whilst having the entrance on the opposite northern side.
This picture gives an idea of what I'd like to build.
My mind then wandered to the interesting and distant fantasy of motorcycle ownership which had been a target of mine whilst I was unemployed and skint. Somehow I never got round to doing the test and I have now decided this must be done by the end of 2010. Good god I sound like a politician setting these targets but unlike the government I intend to stick to this one and here is the reasons why...
These beautiful machines are Chinese and are exact copies of Soviet Russia's M72 motorcycle outfit which in turn was a simplified copy of a BMW R71 outfit that Germany's Wehrmacht had decided didn't fit the bill for their own forces. These Chinese machines are built under the name Chang Jiang and have a small but enthusiastic following though the workmanship is a little questionable by all accounts but the reviews have been good. I've also been looking at guns recently too after going clay pigeon shooting in the Welsh borders but alas the law prohibits me from owning this beauty. *Sigh*
Webley-Fosbery Self-Cocking Automatic Revolver
However this thing I can own it's a copy of a New England Fowling Gun.
So far February has been an odd month full of highs and lows but instead of having to ride these waves of fortune the Jolly Buffoon appears to be ploughing through them like a oil tanker. A couple of weekends ago everything was awesome I had spent the weekend messing about with guns in the snow whilst wearing a capote in a sort of glorified piss-up, Jess and George are now parents to a bouncing baby boy (I think they named him Alex) and we finally crushed Bolshevism by winning the pub quiz.
"Noooo! Not again! Curse your damned luncheon club!"
Fate then took a funny turn (funny strange not funny haha) and during the week I was informed of the death of my Great Uncle whilst a fellow blogger's father blew his brains out after some appalling gaffs made by artless hedge fund managers on his father's behalf left the poor man penniless. For my Great Uncle at least his death was welcomed as this once tall, proud man who had been a pillar of his local community was slowly robbed of his mind by Alzheimer’s Disease whilst his body became increasing broken and frail. That side of the family are a funny lot who come across as a bit secretive and snobish at times and I suspect there is quite alot of family politics going on too that my part of the family doesn't see. My parents, myself and my brother were the only other family there apart from the immediate family and I suspect this may improve our standing with that side of the family. Anyway I'm digressing into family politics (which is a dark and unhappy area to venture into) so when my folks arrived my brother and I were asked if we'd be pallbearers which we nervously agreed to. We waited outside until the hearse and limousine arrived they were Coleman Milne's finest; a Cardinal hearse and a Dorchester limousine.
Coleman Milne Cardinal Hearse
Coleman Milne Dorchester Limousine
My Great Aunt climbed out of the limousine and her eyes seemed to fix on me and stare at me for an uncomfortable length of time (I think she was trying to remember my name) before being distracted by other mourners but our presense had been noted. An error in the positions of the pallbearers so the tallest were in the middle causing the coffin to gently see-saw as we walked/staggered along with their shoulders acting as a pivot. After lowering the coffin back down off our shoulders onto trestles we all scurried to our seats and the funeral got into full swing. There was a good tallying up of my Great Uncle's life in which we discovered he was a sergeant with the mortars in a county regiment and landed in Normandy on D-day. A job which partly required him to run from mortar pit to mortar pit under heavy fire checking on the status of the crews and then reporting their readiness and availability back to the officer in charge. Not suprisingly he was wounded several times but went back into the lines as soon as his wounds healed sufficiently. He was mentioned in dispatches and recieved a personal commendation from Monty himself. Several poems were read during the proceedings which were done by a vicar with a spearch impediment that sounded like a cross between Pontius Pilate's in "Monty Python's Life of Brian" and Ken Pile's from "A Fish called Wanda" (both characters are played by Michael Palin) which was due to loose false teeth or so Dad suspected. It was the only thing that really spoiled an otherwise thoughtful and tastefully done funeral. After squelching through the entire churchyard carrying the coffin to the grave (the bottom of the coffin was floating by my ear as we still hadn't got our positioning right) my Great Uncle was slowly laid to rest. Reflecting back on the pallbearer experience I don't know how eight burly guardsmen carried Diana's coffin off that plane as the six of us struggled to not tread on each other whilst carrying the coffin of a man who was at least 6' 2" tall. The wake afterwards was good, I especially remember the sausages with had been glazed with honey and then sprinkled with seseme seeds. Delicious! I was given a doggy bag (no I didn't ask for it I was offered one OK!?) which the housemates helped to devour when I got back to Bristol as well as a four pack of Tanglewood tinnies.
After that there was a quiet weekend with the luncheon club failing to perform finishing a dismal eighth. A menacing e-mail by one of the managers has gone around to all staff about personal internet use in the office I have cut back on my lunchtime internet brousing and started reading again so there maybe a book review on the way soon. Oh yes I also passed the new version of the cycle proficiency awards which are now called Bikeability Awards! I await with frustrated anticipation for my cyclescheme voucher so I can get my Pashley.
This might interest the engineers (if you like fluffy, wuffy kittens you can stop reading now the rest will bore the poop out of you) it's a film of a container ship in a typhoon the interesting bit is the shots of the corridoor where you can see the ship's sections all twisting and heaving in different directions...
This picture gives an idea of what I'd like to build.
