House We Used to Live In

Swede Towers in the 19th Century, when it was the village shop

On Monday, almost nine years to the day since Mrs S & I tipped our final van-load of belongings into Swede Towers at the end of an exhausting series of back and forth trips to and from our rented place in Norwich, I leave this house for the very last time, alone. To say I'm heartbroken really wouldn't come close to describing the state I'm in. I've bounced off these walls in solitude for over a year now, reflecting on the cul-de-sac my life has ended up in and I'm not ashamed to admit that it's proved to be a traumatically difficult period. But, even in my darkest hours, I take great comfort from the 14 years I shared with this remarkable woman and though much diminished by her leaving, I know for certain that I'm a far better person for having known her. 

Swede Towers from roughly the same angle in 2019 (ours is the green door where the shop window once was)

Mrs S dropped round a few weeks ago, soon after I accepted the offer on the house, to pick up the last of her outstanding bits and bobs. It was the first time I'd seen her since February. We wound up sitting in the kitchen overlooking the remnants of her amazing garden, nursing our respective cuppas and catching up like old friends do - at one point we reduced each other to breathless tears of laughter following some silly remark or other. In the wake of her visit, I plummeted into a really dreadful emotional place for the following ten days or so. It makes no sense for me to try and keep in touch, or to meet up with her again in the future. I can't see her because I so very much want to see her. So that's the end of it. 

If you've made it this far, thank you and I apologise for wallowing in my own dismalia yet again. Going forward, you'll be pleased to hear that it's not something I plan to make a habit of anymore. Our mutual blogging chum Drew offered some simple, yet simultaneously profound advice in the comments a few days ago '...take the good memories of the house with you and forget to pack the ones that are not too good...' Amen to that. 

Wish me luck - I'll see you on the other side, as and when I get the broadband sorted in the new gaff. 

The Smithereens - House We Used to Live In

Some Broken Things Don't Mend

To the anonymous strangers on the surrounding tables in the cafe we probably looked like two old friends having a long overdue catch-up over coffee. We laughed loudly, talked easily and listened to each other's conversation intently. In reality though, Mrs S and I met on Friday morning to discuss who owns what as regards our mutual possessions, plus the thorny issues of finance. It was an absolute joy to see her - it always was and always will be, at least until such time as I sell this house and we divide the contents in a manner that we both agree is appropriate. After that I'm not sure I have the the mental fortitude to remain in her orbit as an extended friend. I'm suffering such awful pain in the aftermath of this one brief get together that it's probably in my best interests that I walk out of her life completely, hard though that will be. She knows that she only has to make the call and I'd be at her side in an instant, but equally I know that she'll never make that call. Every time I'd see her I'd be looking for a ghost of a sign, a sign that would never come.

Rain Parade - You Are My Friend 

Drunk With Sadness

I'd like to take a moment to apologise for my ongoing low profile round these parts and more importantly offer genuine, heartfelt gratitude to those who have enquired after my well-being during my absence. The truth of the matter is that after 14 years together, Mrs S and I have separated and I find myself alone, isolated, broken, scared and struggling to function to be quite honest - the black cloud that engulfs me is so dense that it's nigh-on impossible to find a way through. I'm keenly aware that my problems are infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, but currently I'm totally overwhelmed by them.

I bought 'Over' by Peter Hammill in 1977 when I was only 17.  The LP details the breakdown of a relationship in graphic, agonising, intimate detail, something I couldn't even begin to comprehend at such a tender age. It's far from easy listening, but right now every single line of 'This Side of the Looking Glass' rings so true that it's almost as if Hammill is sitting in the corner of the room, watching my suffering and taking notes.

Busy Land

Gregorio Vardanega’s Disc and Spherical Construction, Kettle's Yard, Cambridge.

Many thanks to everyone who left birthday greetings for Mrs S last week. We had a fine old time in Cambridge, in spite of the draining 30+° heat. Memo to self though - next time spend a little more money and get a hotel with air-conditioning. As it was, it felt a bit like trying to sleep in a cardboard box stored inside a greenhouse. This week we're back in full-on work mode, then on Saturday I'll be up at the crack of dawn to travel down to London for a precious few days catch-up with the visiting American contingent of the family. Unfortunately Mrs S can't join me on this jaunt as she'll be busy prepping for a forthcoming four day artistic endeavour which commences next Thursday, I'll be returning from London on Wednesday to accompany and assist her. Long story short, my profile round these parts will be even lower than usual for the next couple of weeks. I'll try to schedule another interim post if I get a moment, but if it all goes a bit quiet for a while, you'll know why.

Here's The Soundtrack of Our Lives in 2012 with a corking approximation of the kind of noise Pete, Roger, John & Keith were making circa 1966. 

The Soundtrack of Our Lives - Busy Land

I've Got to Say This, I Hope You Don't Mind

Today is a milestone birthday for Mrs S. She sees it as a very big milestone, though of course from my aged perspective it's just a modest marker in her journey through life. Mrs S is in the middle of a busy series of art related projects at the moment and I've been putting in long hours at work for some months, but to celebrate the occasion, we've taken a brief hiatus from our respective hectic schedules and, as you read this, are in Cambridge, doing cultural stuff and hopefully recharging the batteries.

Here's a song from one of Cambridge's finest sons. For Mrs S, now and always.

Syd Barrett - Two of a Kind

Red Gold & Green #22 - Ken Boothe

It's Mrs S's birthday. I'm writing this a few days ahead of time and we've not yet decided exactly what we're doing by way of celebration, but if I were a betting man I'd stick a fiver on it involving a coastal walk, a pub and a big plate of chips. We're easily pleased.

Here for Mrs S, on her special day, is her favourite song by her favourite reggae artist, Ken Boothe's 1973 cover of Syl Johnson's 'Is it Because I'm Black?'

Ken Boothe - Is It Because I'm Black?

Get Well Soon

It's not been a good start to 2015 (or end to 2014 come to that) for Mrs S. It takes a lot to slow her down, but a serious bout of flu has completely knocked her for six and she's currently not very well at all.

Rest Now, Weary Head, You Will Get Well Soon.