Friday Photo(s) #69

My gaff is in Suffolk, though only just. The River Waveney flows about 100 yards from my front door and this ancient waterway defines the county's boundary with Norfolk. Across the footbridge that spans the river is a substantial green space, protected in perpetuity for the town, even though, technically, it sits just outside the town. I use the meadow regularly as either a cut through, a brief circular walk or a place to stop and recalibrate while watching the river flow. To quote Courtney Barnett, sometimes I sit and think, and sometimes I just sit.

A vantage point just before the footbridge offers the opportunity of an uninterrupted view along a stretch of the river and it's one I seldom turn down. Here's that view in spring, summer and winter. It never gets old.

Brian Eno - By This River

Three Notable Neighbours

Following our move out to the sticks in 2011, on one of our first ventures into the local small market town up the road, Mrs S & I decided to to check out a promising looking deli/coffee shop. Once inside, the place had a distinct Mary Celeste vibe about it and I wondered if it was actually closed. Suddenly, without warning, a man popped his head up from behind the counter and explained apologetically that he was just looking after the place for a few minutes while the owner had gone to the bank. His sudden unexpected appearance made me jump, not least because the man behind the counter was none other than Yosser Hughes, or to be more accurate, the actor Bernard Hill. Younger readers may be more familiar with his work in films like Gandhi, Titanic and the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but to my generation he'll always be associated with his iconic role in Alan Bleasdale's Boys From the Blackstuff television series. It transpired that Hill lives locally and I've seen him around town many times in the years since that first encounter.

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At my old gaff, Swede Towers, the locals would frequently take in parcels for neighbours who weren't at home - we all helped each other out. One day about three years ago, the postman knocked at the door to ask if I'd mind taking a parcel for the young couple who'd recently moved into the big place next door but one to me. The postman was impressed by my neighbour, but I hadn't seen him and the name meant nothing to me. Turns out it was Norwich City and Netherlands goalkeeper Tim Krul. He and his wife were also regular visitors to the supermarket where I work, where he was endlessly polite and accommodating to selfie requests from customers and fellow staff members alike.

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One afternoon last week, as I scrambled around on my knees, trying to squeeze a few extra packs of crumpets onto a very low shelf at work, I heard a strangely familiar voice say 'Excuse me'. As I struggled to my feet, the man in question asked if we sold gluten free pizza bases. I replied that we certainly did and took him and his wife round to the relevant aisle. 'Perfect' he said and thanked me warmly. It's fairly common knowledge that he owns a property in a nearby village, but this was my first ever actual encounter with Brian Eno in town. (I did have close call a couple of years ago though).

Brian Eno - Third Uncle

No Pussyfooting

On Saturday morning we found ourselves holed up in an old aircraft hanger in deepest Suffolk, taking part in a well established Vintage Fair & Makers Market, where Mrs S had a stall exhibiting and selling her groovy artistic creations. It was gloriously sunny and I was enjoying the first day of an extremely rare weekend off work, coffee in hand, mooching around the stalls and chatting to all and sundry. As I made my way back through the throng to check-in with Mrs S, I noticed a smart oldish gent sporting bright pink trainers standing adjacent to her stall. It was only when I drew a little closer that I realised the anonymous gent was in actual fact legend and all round good egg, Brian Eno. It's a bit of a dilemma coming face to face with a 'celebrity' in an off-duty situation. Do you stick out your hand and tell him how much you respect his work, not to mention him as a human being, or do you leave him alone to enjoy his downtime. Long story short I did the latter and, in retrospect, I'm confident that I made the right decision. I would only have made a fool of myself.

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In 1973, along with records by the likes of ELP, Tangerine Dream, Amon Düül II, Klaus Schulze, Iggy & the Stooges, Focus, Greenslade and Lou Reed, Fripp & Eno's looptastic 'No Pussyfooting' LP was a soundtrack to my ever inquisitive musical mind, the track 'Swastika Girls' in particular. Fripp's bone-crunching guitar shunt at 8.13 remains one of my favourite moments in all music before or since.

Fripp & Eno - Swastika Girls

Broken Head

In a hurry a little under a month ago, I mistimed a swoop beneath one of our low door-frames and smashed the top of my skull into it. It wasn't the first time it's happened and it won't be the last. The frame in question is over 200 years old and made of solid oak. It's also a good foot shorter than I am. I've had a headache ever since the incident, intense at first, but now more akin to an uncomfortable lingering hangover. I've been somewhat prone to headaches for as long as I can remember, usually caused by the most innocent of circumstances, so initially I wasn't overly bothered by this one. Last week, beginning to feel a little concerned, I finally decided to take myself off to see a doctor at the local medical centre. He didn't go near my head, instead he waggled his fingers about in front of my eyes and checked my blood pressure before pronouncing that, in his opinion, my headaches are unconnected with the recent violent encounter with the door-frame - although he couldn't actually say for sure what is causing them. 'Take more painkillers' was his advice. I told him that, on the contrary, I've actively been trying to reduce the 4 times a day I've been taking them, but he was insistent. 'No, no. You need to take more'. Should I come back if the symptoms persist? 'Yes,' he said, '...give it 9 or 10 weeks'.

Thanks Doc, that helps a lot.

Eno / Moebius / Roedelius - Broken Head

Brian Eno

Here's a great clip of Brian Eno, seeming uncomfortable in the spotlight, but looking every inch the latter-day glam-rocker while simultaneously sounding every inch the proto-punk. The tune is his 1974 single 'Seven Deadly Finns', which I bought on release, but subsequently lent to a friend and, of course, never saw again - d'oh!

Do please feel free to join in towards the end of the song, with, what Julian Cope once described as, Eno's 'psychedelic yodeling.'

(A tip of the titfer to the good folks over at Tune Doctor, for posting my true story of Ramones rage! Read all about it here.)