George Gently

While feeling tired after a shift a few days ago, and not wanting to put any real effort to find something on TV, I defaulted to Netflix.

I randomly picked George Gently, about which I knew absolutely nothing, it having passed me by when it was aired on whatever channel it was aired.

I’d not previously known that the series was set in the Northeast, in the 60s. It’s not particularly good, or indeed bad, but I’ve continued to watch now and then because it’s easy viewing. And, perhaps, there’s the northern nostalgia.

It must be pretty difficult creating 1960s scenes sixty years after the fact.

Here’s an example. From memory, plastic drainpipes didn’t exist in 1964; at least not in the Northeast. And those boxed-in external meter cupboards didn’t start appearing until the 70s. The house door’s not very clear in the picture, but I’m pretty sure that’s an 80-90s door. I could be wrong.

And now an Italian army surplus jacket from the 80s. They were quite fashionable, being more modern than most surplus in the 80s.

Rust

I’m sure I’ve written about rust in the past. But when you’re daft enough to buy an old van, that’s what you get.

So, a few years ago, we had a scrape.

And then we opened a bar, so we didn’t check on the van often enough. The cover had blown off that particular corner in a storm and the damaged bit was exposed for a few months.

Which resulted in.

It looks bad, but it was a lot worse. Fortunately, panels are available.

Needs a bit of work, but …

Fat Freddy’s Drop

I’d been so busy with the bar and working in the garden, that I’d forgotten I was going to a Fat Freddy’s Drop gig a few days ago.

Fortunately, I was reminded with a couple of hours notice.

Shed

After failing to take into account the drying time for the new cement screed, the first couple of coats of paint on the shed walls took ages to dry due to the dampness in the air.

It’s looking better after the third coat, but there’s still a lot of work to do before the shed can be used for anything.

Shed

I resumed work on the shed today, after I finished the internal render a couple of weeks ago.

The rendering I started around two and a half years ago.

Which followed the wall rebuilding in 2018-19.

Next week (I can only manage a day a week at most) I need to level the floor, before I can finish painting.

Night sweats

Yesterday was spent in York, in several bars, before seeing Nathaniel Rateliffe and the Nightsweats at the Barbican.

We’d planned to see them in Leeds a couple of years ago, but the gig was cancelled on the day.

They were insanely good, better than expected.

One added bonus on the day was a pint of unfined Jaipur in the York Tap. This one was a DDH version, so I’ve still not tried the original, which is fined with isinglass.

Maybe one day.

Foo Fighters

So, last week, I saw the Foo Fighters for the third time (that I remember); this time at Glasgow’s Hampden Park. As expected, they were great.

On both past occasions, I’d seen them at festivals; Leeds 2005 and Glastonbury 2017. The stadium gig was obviously longer and better, but I think I preferred the festival atmosphere.

This last time was part of a larger family group, which I probably wouldn’t want to do again.

Goodbye

Sunday saw the end of an era, for me at least. A last night at/for the Schooner. I’ve mixed feelings about the place; I loved it as a customer years ago, then I loved/hated it when I had a part of it.

The dog spent most of her childhood there, she accidentally became a pubdog.

The stress in the (our) early days was immense, the hours were horrific, the problems were never ending and the pressure on working (and non working) relationships was intense.

I’m no longer involved in the place, but it was nice to say goodbye.

The band was great.

The dog even got to sit in her old childhood seat.

I got to stand behind the bar one last time.

And then we left (to close up at our place). The scaffolding had already been erected, which made sense since time is money etc.

Work started the next day.

The bar certainly needed change; the right degree of change. I genuinely hope that everything works out for the place.

I’ll miss it and won’t, at the same time.

I’m sure the dog feels the same way