HURRAH FOR THIS REALLY IS THE UP TO THE MINUTE REPORT....PHOTOS TAKEN ONLY MINUTES AGO.
HURRAH!
Oh also I'd like to say goodbye to Jacquie who worked at the Bell from time to time, ( when it suited them!) and who died a few days ago...thanks to Colin Gnome for letting me know.
Me and Jacq had a strange relationship....for quite some time she was my stalker....I remember after the first Walcot Booze Selling Day she stealthily intercepted me on my route home at about three in the morning needing help with a broken heel ( shoe only!)....I suggested my sellotape would not be up to the job.... sellotape = euphemism for willy?
I then made a run for it.
The stalking continued but eventually we turned it into a joke and we became mates, albeit a little cautiously on my part.....part = euphemism for willy?
So goodbye mate...see you shortly!!!


Lao hiding in my bathroom earlier today.....
but my surveillance cameras tell the tale...


Eucalyptus.....
Mmmmmm.....
And if you've got the sniffles, just stuff
one of these logs up yer pillow when you
go to bed at night.
Doesn't do much for your nose, but certainly
impresses your partner no end....


Pool in rain.
These most recent photos are as shot....ie not adjusted so you can see how Saquarema has turned into Manchester the last week, just in time for Carnaval, which madness starts on Saturday, a couple of weeks early this year as this year Jesus got born two weeks early....
Do you understand this ??
I don't.
Anyway, continuous rain, not always heavy, and grey and cold for here.
That is, not very!!
Cold.
Ooooh, just looked out of door and it's brightening....and oooh it's 77 degrees.
Manchester no more.
Bathgate no more.
Linwood no more.
Methil no more.
Irvine no more.

Bless you Buddy Hollys.


Just needs balustrades and bob's yer unc.
Oh and lights and sockets and etc etc etc.

HURRAH FOR UP TO THE MINUTE PROGRESS REPORTS.
THIS ISN'T IT THOUGH.
THIS IS YESTERDAYS.


The frame for the shady terrace comes along in leaps and bounds....
using eucalyptus logs and stuff.
The shade will be provided by great big palm fronds.
Some of my best fronds will be up there.


For some reason I've built a railway station.
Chicken Town.
You fucking wait and fucking wait....
The fucking trains are fucking late...
You fucking wait and fucking wait...
In fucking chicken town.

Bless you JC Clarke.


In my wet room
With black tiling...
It never drained properly so we're erecting a small wall.

Bless you Pete Brown...shared a floor with him once !


Hear my drain a-coming....
It works...water comes out da end....

Bless you Jimi.

HURRAH FOR GUTTERING!
THERE'S NOTHING LIKE IT GOOD OLD GUTTERING!
THE SMELL OF SOLVENT, THE ROAR OF NAILS.
THE CLICK OF SNIPPING, THE PRIDE OF WALES.
HURRAH FOR GUTTERING!
EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS APPEALING!
ON THE FLOOR OR ROOF OR EVEN ON THE CEILING!
SO LET'S GET ON WITH THE UHHHH....GUTTERING INSTALLATION THEN!
OK, LETS.....


Lao installing the....I'm afraid to type it....


And again...keep it stum....


Fuck, not more....
Oh thank dee Lord, in the background we see the steadily advancing shady nook roof terrace above the quaint guest house with eyebrows....nearly clear, now runnnnnn....


I was very drunk.
And I sort of made some new friends.
Well I made them be.
And I appear to be scaring off opponents.
Or I'm just very happy.
I don't know do I.
It wasn't me alright.
And why is there a big wet patch on my t-shirt?
And who am I asking?
And why don't they know?

HURRAH! WE'RE OFF TO MOMBASSA AT THE BACK OF THE LAGOONS TO LOOK AT PALMS TO BUY FOR THE GARDEN.
HURRAH!


Here's Filho.
He's driving the lovely car.


Here's Lao.
A rare shot of him not working.
Or playing football.
Or drunk.
( The drunk bit is a joke except on Sundays after the match.)


A lovely windpump.


A lovely road and a lovely tree.
And some other more nondescript trees.
But still lovely in their own nondescript sort of way.
Nondescript and just a little bit pathetic kind of a way.
With barely a stroke of individuality discernable amongst them.
Bastards.
What if all trees were as faceless...where would we be then eh?
Nobody would know would they....
They'd all breed and breed and all look exactly the same.
Everyone could be anywhere.
People lost without trace in massive faceless forests all over the world.
Massive faceless forests full of masses of lost traceless people.
Traceless, faceless people, with not a jot of individuality to distinguish one from another.
Bastards.
And then where would we be??
Massive unending masses of faceless faithless people blindly bludgeoning their pointless way through massive unending forests massed with faceless pathetic nondescript bloody trees. And what are they covered in?
Bloody leaves.
Are any of them tartan?
Any of them polka dots with candy pink metal finishes?
Any trace of gold leaf?
Diagonal striping?
Tassles?
Tiny throw cushions?
Are they bollocks my cock you fuck you not there are......
FUCKING GREEN.
FUCKING GREEN THE LOT OF THEM.
Bastards.
Eh?
Eh?
Eh?

HURRAH! MY GARDEN AND GROUNDS AND EVERYTHING ARE COMPLETELY FLOODED!
HURRAH!


The guest house and access to it.....marvelous. What pratt designed this then??
Oh, it was me......
Actually it drains as soon as the rain stops. Honest.


Change the subject quick.
Look, a owl!


Palms we looked at in Mombassa when on buying palms for the garden trip last week.


An impressionist view of the street where is the bar what we went to as described below here.
I thought the bloke who painted it said he lived in a van and his name was Dave Gough, but he couldn't hear me very well, and he actually said he lived in a Dive and his name was Van Gough. No that can't be it. His name was Dave and his van's name was Gough. Dave's van Gough. Nope. Not getting this. I was very drunk.
Anyway, s'nice innit.

HURRAH! A FABULOUS NIGHT OUT AND SOME NEW FRIENDS....
This is starting to sound extremely camp.


I got invited out t'other saturday night by some friends ( it does happen....)
to a recently expanded bar/ rezzy in Saquarema right by the bridge over the waterway between the Ocean and the lagoons....an idyllic spot.
Some friends of some of the friends were playing in the open there that night.
They were hot, but the night was not.
It pissed down so we retreated inside, where I got talking to Sonia, wife of Jean the guitarist/vocalist, and later to Jean his-self. Really nice people. They invited me to jam with them, and drunk as I was, I accepted.
Next day when I'd sobered up I shit myself.
We shall see what happens. Hopefully I'll have some kind o finger related accident in the meantime.
Might be best for all concerned.


Here you can see Lao dealing with the results of two weeks of me tending the pool on my own. He's actually hoovering. I thought it sounded a bit dangerous, but he assures me it's dddzzzzzzzzzzt what was that?


Filho hoovering the grass for some reason....I thought it sounded a bit dangerous, but he assures me it's dddzzzzzzzzzzt what was that?


Sonia tinkering with the electronic equipment in the wardrobe.....I thought it sounded a bit dangerous, but she assures me it's dddzzzzzzzzzzt what was that?
Just can't seem to keep the staff these days.

HURRAH! HERE IS MY HOUSE ALL SUNNY
WITH IT'S FULLY OPENING CANTILEVERED
DOORS AND WINDOWS.
HURRAH!


Open plan.
Just as I planned it.
Open.


More open-ness.
In one side and out the other.
That's what they used to say about my head at school.
How right they all were.
Just look where I ended up.
Actually, my charming mother was called in to see the headmaster
in my last days at the Stockport shit-hole I was forced into, and said she'd sent him an above average eleven year old and he'd sent her back a fifteen year old moron!
This is the fantastic level of support I received from family and teachers in my formative years.
Thank fuck for shit loads of drugs and booze and rock'n'roll and occasional glimpses of sex.
Look, over there, on that hill, I can glimpse some sex....


The typical open plan living room and kitchen of a grown
up fifteen year old moron.


The typical open plan dining, lounging and ummm living areas of a grown up fifteen year old moron.
Oooooh look over there, beyond those palm trees, another glimpse of yes, it is, it's a glimpse of some more sex.....
I bless my education.

HURRAH! CLEANING THE FLOOR WITH A HOSEPIPE!
GREAT FUN ON A HOT DAY!


Sonia loves this job.....she won't let me do it!!!!!!!
(To be honest I've never actually asked....)


My new fully opening cantilever door falls off....
Revealing the fact that it's secured into a gap of nothingness....hollow bricks! There's nothing in them! They're hollow!
The wind caught it and bang!
Bugger fell orfff!
Here you can see loads of nails and iron wire added to reinforce the new replacement concrete....my suggestion....sometimes I do understand what's going on around me!!
Sometimes!


Here I am having an inkling of what's going on around me.
I'm inkling in the pool.


More inkling.
My estates.

HURRAH! MY NEW WATER TANK BURST OUT OF THE GROUND AT THE FIRST SIGN OF HEAVY RAIN, AND NOW HAS TO BE REIGNED IN!
Please note the two uses of a word that sounds the same. Even though it is spelled differently. And yet the meanings are different. But the pronunciation is the same. Both times. And in every way. Different.


Brick cladding goes in to isolate the hole from the surrounding earth.


The rebated marble sills go into the doorways..
Therein hangs a tale of woe and twattishness.
It finally took over seven weeks to get 9 pieces of marble delivered.
My fault of course.
I made the unforgiveable mistake of paying up front.
I didn't want them to deliver and catch me without cash as I have to travel quite a distance to get any.
So I paid the whole amount in advance.
Big mistake.
Only ever pay a deposit or less!
We phoned them dozens of time.
The stuff arrived in dribs and drabs.
And the last piece, for my bedroom doorway arrived 7 weeks and one day after I ordered.
And paid.
What they don't factor in is that I will never ever go there again, and will actively dissuade others from using them.
I have a black list!!!
Not all suppliers are like this here, some are excellent, but some are not!


More paths, this time for little cars....


Uh oh.
New problem. Need guttering along new verandah.

HURRAH! MY ORANGE TREES ARE GROWING BIGGER!


Here they are....the lighter upper leaves are the new growth since planting in August....come on my babbers....I'm fucking broke....


Mother and day old foal grazing amongst the orange groves....rustic innit?!
Ok....the mother is grazing and the foal is drinking it's mummie's milk.
No need for pedanticismisticness is there?


Talking of which...some of the disenfranchised youth I
work with having an orange squash by the pool before
another gruelling jobseeking session.


Looks like they've finally found employment....
Where's me bling????

HURRAH! FULLY OPENING WINDOWS AND DOORS ARE PAINTED WHITE!


Look! All White! All White!
Oooooh there's a dead man in my pool.....
(English popular tv joke)
(or is it....now I'm not so sure....)
( Am I mixing up Michael Barrything and
foppish tv chat show host.....)
(I've been away so long I hardly kow the place.....)


And fully opening!
Doors, that is....


Mmmm, ditto.


A crab. You weren't expecting that now, were you?
This is the second time after a storm there's been a crab in the pool.
What the connection is I have no idea.
I was so taken with it being there that I let it stay and then it died because of the chlorine.
Oooops.
More great Karma.
So there was something dead in my pool as well, after all...

HURRAH!!! A NEW BAR RESTAURANT HAS OPENED JUST AROUND THE CORNER FROM MY HOUSE......
Only trouble is they only sell beer on draught which oddly here is much more expensive than the usual bottled stuff....
And their food prices are expensive.
But my mate Leonardo is head waiter there, (he used to work at my regular bar by the lagoon, but they fell out) and their lasagne is excellent, and they do take outs in special round foil containers that have a machine to put the lid on that you turn the handle round and round and it has cogs and I want one....looks like it came out of a Victorian mail order catalogue for medical instruments....


This is Vania, Leonardo's missus on the left with nipper and the lady of the restaurant on the right with nipper.


Fabino and Lao keep having these strange get-togethers.....somethings going on, I can sense it.


The pool just after being topped up with water from a truck and it is now very full to the brim.
Yummy.


Leonardo and family get straight in it.
Excellent.

HURRAH FOR THE STONE STEPPY PATHY THINGS!
New and interesting ways to trip over!
Just what I needed!


Pathways.


And more pathways.....


This time you're on your own.....


No, you're wrong....
These are the new foldy all the way back doors before painting.....

INCREDIBLE!!
I'VE INVENTED MOVING PICTURES.....
Well, in fact I've managed to snatch a copy of the infamous Royal Bank of Scotland TV ad with me acting as a miserable no-hope record store owner.... (OK, so I wasn't acting, I was having a VERY BAD DAY)....and I've managed to stick it on my blog....amazing!



The story went thusly....
On their first scouting visit, the ad producers said they were looking for an independent record store for the second run of "One Day..." ads for the RBoS "One Account".
They liked the look of the shop, and asked me to come up with a few "One day...." test takes of my own to camera.
I came up with some genuine positive stuff, like " One day, I'll finish renovating my flat, sell the shop and bugger off to Brasil.....".
I also did a version without the bugger.
They were very pleased and said they'd like me to be in the shoot proper.
After a few weeks, I got a call to say they'd be there the next day.
Great, I thought.
I expect the production company thought " Great!" too.
Little did they know.
The phrase " Many a slip twixt cup and lip " springs to mind.
The night before the shoot, as so often happens, I "accidentally" went on a bit of a bender. The worst of my hangovers, combined as they are with my seven lots of medication which all say "Do not combine with Alcohol" regularly end up rather twisted. The next morning, I was struggling with just such a hanging over.
And feeling good and twisted.
Then to add insult to self inflicted injury, Jonno, my over-paid, over-egoed, under-capable and overally under-whelming builder arrives at the shop. We have a par-for-the -course full on slanging match about the work barely in progress, and as he leaves I'm bellowing "You f***ing useless f***ing c*nt" at full wack after him, just as the TV crew pass him in the doorway and enter the shop.
As they do so, I see one of the crew motioning in my direction to the producer and mouthing silently, pleadingly "It's not him is it?".
The other guy despairingly confirms that indeed it is. Him.
Oh, the horror.
So it all went downhill from there, really.
I'm stuck there scowling like Bluto, in a filthy black mood.
Like the bullied GI who shoots himself in "Full Metal Jacket".
I call it "looking through the pigface".
I can barely grunt at the crew.
I refuse to look at the camera.
The idea of saying "One day anything ..." is outside my reality.
One day.... I'd rather rip the head off something.
They coax anything they can out of me.
That's not much.
The best line I can muster is " One day I'll be really happy..." but I spit the word "happy" venemously across the room.
You just know it's never gonna happen.....because the guy saying it knows it's never gonna happen.
It's just not on this guy's menu.

In the final cut, as seen on national TV, just in case you had any remaining doubts about this poor bastard's future, we cut to a shot of me monotonously labelling great piles of dirty old records, like I know I'm obviously going to do every day until I die, miserable, hopeless, resigned to my ignominious fate....
After the shoot, I knew it all went so badly that they couldn't possibly use any of the footage.
Well, perhaps in a commercial for psychoanalysis.
So I was amazed when people started telling me they'd seen me on TV.
It was fun at first....people saying they'd been sat at home stoned in front of the telly when they could swear I'd just been in an advert, and their missus saying don't be daft, your off your face, what on earth would he be doing in a bank advert?
Complete strangers would come up to me at half seven in the morning at car boots and ask " Are you happy yet then??" and I'd have no idea what they were talking about. ( Half seven in the morning is never good for me ....)
Old mates rang me up from all over asking me to confirm it was me...
Yes, if it looks like me and it sounds like me and it's miserable like me....it's really me.
Fame, like so many things, wears off after a bit, and I soon wished I'd never done it.
But it did raise the profile of my failing shop slightly.
And it's good to have a laugh now'n'again, eh?

Thanks to Andrew at visit4info.com for the ad.