Category Archives: History

Extreme pointing

Not wanting to delay too long after finishing the outside walls of the shed, I’ve made a start on the inside. 

I thought it prudent to begin with the part-buried wall. My intention was to remove the inner layer of stone, in sections (to reduce the risk of collapse), then rebuild it. I knew that the outer layer would be in a pretty bad state, but I had to revise my plan when I encountered daylight. 

This section is now repaired, but there’s clearly some work to be done before I can rebuild the inner wall. 

While working on the shed, I’ve started to wonder whether it’s actually older than the house. I’d always assumed that they would have been built at the same time. But my project has walls build from very large blocks of stone. 

Of course, I’ll never know for certain either way. The only known face is that the shed existed in 1865, since it appears on a map from that time. It’s very likely to be older though, because the house dates back to the 1830s. 

Regardless of its age, the ‘s a cool little thing. I do acknowledge that I need to take care to avoid it becoming an obsession. 

Adrian

I’ve tried in vain to interest my second in command in history. Ideally, northern history, but I’d settle for a bit of East Midlands Ethelred. 

Fortunately, though, she has (this very evening) acknowledged ancient Roman/northern Britain. 

She does know that a man called Adrian built a wall.

It appears that my attempts to partially de-southernise my second in command may have failed on a collosive scale. 

Apparently, the athletics on TV were interesting this evening. 

Setback

Thinking positively, I’ve finished the interior of the shed roof. 

And primed it for one distant day in the future when the walls will be finished. 

Alas, that day has slipped even further away than I’d planned. It seems that the damp-proofing of a couple of years ago wasn’t a huge success. 

I’m now tasked with removing all of the two-year-old plaster from the offending wall (at least) and starting again. 

I’d always suspected that more laborious solutions would be needed, but I was fooled by the lack of obvious damp in the shed. 

It’s a shame that I can’t retrospectively sue the philanthropist (according to the internet) who built the estate behind our house. You’d have thought that the fact that we live on (almost at the top of) a stupidly steep hill would have discouraged further development, but the solution appears to have been to level-off the ground. Which resulted in our shed becoming something of an underground cavern. 

Sadly, since the neighbouring houses arrived at the turn of the last century, it’s somewhat late to be lodging a complaint. 

My desire to restore the shed might seem irrational. But it’s a lovely (damp) thing (with a new ceiling). 

Our house

I love our little house. And I love where we live. Neither are anything special, but for many reasons we’re happy here.

And, now, we could be about to change all of that. We’ve put in an offer on an old chapel in Newcastle.

That was two weeks ago, a quick decision after a viewing. God moves pretty slowly these days, but we’ll hear today (or possibly tomorrow) whether our offer (or one of the other interested parties’) has been accepted. 

Last night, after our third visit to the chapel, we experienced our first feelings of doubt. Not about the chapel itself, or the work involved; rather, some thoughts about letting go of what we have now. Most of those (my) doubts related to the location as opposed to the building. 

The chapel’s non-standard construction, but it has something about it. And it has lots of potential. It’s in a residential area though. And, by residential, I mean houses, houses and flats. That probably wouldn’t be an issue for most people, it could be a selling point. But. 

So, we could have another, more difficult, decision to make this evening. Unless, of course, that decision is taken out of our hands. 

Dachau

A few days ago, when in Munich, we decided to visit the Dachau concentration camp site. I’d regretted not going when last in Munich, 

Dachau, the town, is only a half hour from Munich by train, followed by a short bus ride to the outskirts of town and the site. 

It was quite a moving experience, it feels appropriate only to post a couple of pictures here. 


Aventinus

I have fond memories of Schneider Weiss Aventinus from many years ago. My now son-in-law sampled a little too much of the 12% Aventinus Eisbeck when I was last in Munich, while the 8.2% Aventinus proved to be a safer option. 

I’m now back in the Schneider Weiss Brauhaus after twelve years. This visit was only for the purposes of a single Schneider Weiss original. And it was very nice. 



As is the Tap 6 Aventinus I’m now drinking. 

Spaten

My second in command needed to pee en-route to our hotel, so we found a nice little bar. Where we found some Spaten pilsner. 


I’ve not been in Munich for twelve years, but have recognised some places within minutes. Some things have changes though; in common with Berlin, there’s a lot of building work. 

Kerning

There’s a poster, at my local bus stop, which has been irritating me for some time now. It’s lodged down the back of the timetable and, I’m assuming, can’t easily be removed. 

I could be critical of the name Circus Vegas, or, the globe of death (which is clearly a slight exaggeration), but what really irritates me is the BLAY DON kerning issue. 

My theory is that, rather than being a typographic error, this is something of a lack of local knowledge. 

As an aside, does anyone else recall the alleged wysiwyg software packages of the late 80s/early 90s which couldn’t handle kerning properly?

Doctor’s orders

I’m in transit to meet my second in command, well having a sit down while on my way to meet my second in command. In the Doctor’s Orders, a very nice micropub just outside Nottingham city centre. 

I’m having a lovely pint of Magpie IPA. Earlier, I stopped off at a Wetherspoon’s, by the canal. For coffee. 

I last called into that bar in 2005, when I was here for an Eels gig. We’d almost stole a table number (for the kitchen table), but conscience (and security cameras) deterred the theft. 

Last night, we visited Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. 

Allegedly the oldest pub in England. The only pub built into a cave I’ve ever been in. 

The demise of the working men’s club

High Fell social club, just down the road to us, closed a while ago and has since been converted into flats. I’d never set foot inside the place, but I do recall a time when such places were a (bustling) social centre in most northern towns. Social clubs had their problems, of course; they were inherently sexist until recent years and most simply haven’t kept up with the times. 

A couple of years ago, I visited Kings Cliffe ex-servicemen’s club. I can’t say it was very busy, but a band was playing and the evening must have been reasonably  profitable. 

There was a second visit last night. 

It wasn’t a busy night. 

But at least they now have a decent selection of Sam Smith’s beer. At a very reasonable £2.20 a pint. 

Alas, probably not for much longer. Surely the place can’t survive much longer.