You are allowed to enjoy this…

I said cult, OK? Anyway, “Sow’s Ears” has been literally flying off the shelves in the past seven days and I am almost out of stock. Combine this with the fact that I sold out of “Without Words” last month and we are looking at a major CD-burning crisis. This means I’ll have to get some more discs made up and I have neither the time nor the inclination to do this.
The worrying thing is that when I finally get around to releasing my next box-set, I was planning on doing a mailshot to everyone who has even purchased a tangible version of my albums. Now I am beginning to think that if I do that, I might actually be creating a demand I can’t keep up with. Oh well, I’ll figure something out.
Felt really weak late yesterday like I was sickening for something. Today though, I am feeling a lot better – mind you, we had a night without toxic fumes – methinks the Housing Officer might be paying a visit today and that Brian the Liar and Idiot Bastard Son are trying to clean up their act before she arrives. We wait with baited breath…
While going through some old files on my PC the other day, I discovered a mix of a song called “Compression Sickness”. This was recorded back in 2002 with recording chum Andrew Osborne. Throughout that year, we worked on an off on some tunes and managed to produce enough music for a CD, which was released briefly through the now-defunct MP3.com website. It wasn’t easy recording with someone else, but it did drag me in directions I didn’t always want to go, which is a good thing creatively. The problem working with the LOAD setup (the band name was made from our initials) was that I had to work hard on the production side and basically make Andrew’s performances fit. This was the challenge. This track is one of my favourites and I play most things on it, except the acoustic guitar and lead distorted guitar, which are Andrew’s and he came up with the melody after jamming to the bassline that I’d put down as a guide track for him. This time around I remastered the track using some clever remasterign software, so it has some extra “zing”. It’s a shame things didn’t quite work out for LOAD as the second CD would have sounded a lot better. Anyway, here’s the track. Enjoy!

Of course, MySpace allows stereo videos to be uploaded and so this is what that tune sounds like using the power of both your ears. Enjoy!

This is a short improv I recorded “on the fly”. Not sure exactly what I was trying to achieve but I am pleased it didn’t turn out too much of a mess…

So what to report? Well if I told you what was really going on, I’d have to kill you. Or at least make sure that you didn’t squeal on me…
Of course, I am just being deliberately oblique in a sad attempt to make my life sound much more interesting than it actually is. Recent events began last week when the Missus dared me. You should never dare me to do anything because I might just call your bluff. And so as a result of this dare, we drove down to Plymouth and checked out a place. I am torn. Parts of it I like, parts of it make me recoil in horror, while the businessman in me sees the potential. I see it as a way of turning the two properties I own into a comfortable business. The future is very different to how I planned it, but if we decide to take this path it could be a very comfortable, if quiet, life. Oh what to do?
Plus the fact that the fumes from next door continue and despite the warning from the council no car parts have left the house this week. They have another seven days to sort their shit out, apparently. Again, if nothing comes of it and we are stuck with those ingrates using industrial solvents during the wee hours and the fumes seeping through our floorboards, then there’s few options left. Run away while I can still breathe…? Yup. What a cowardly fuck, I am.
So on the way to Plymouth I needed a pee and we were between services. So the Missus duly turned off into a field and let me get some air to my nether regions. This was about 9am in the morning and I am in the middle of nowhere (about 30 minutes from Exeter, maybe) and I am just in mid-stream, when a car appears from nowhere. Now it is almost impossible to stop when you are going with the flow, but with a gargantuan effort I stopped and adjusted myself and pretended I was just taking the air, just in time for the car to pass and some middle-aged woman to stare at me. After the car disappeared, I returned to the job at hand, but it is difficult to pee when you stopped yourself with such force. But I knew it was now or never, so I focused my mind and managed to empty my aching bladder. This type of thing has happened before when I needed a pee. You can bet that in a deserted side street or country lane, I’ll think the coast is clear and some old bloke will appear from nowhere, scuppering my plan for a crafty whizzle. C’est la pee, as they say in France.
Over the weekend, we bought the supplies for decorating the bedroom. The plan is that if we decide to sell up the house will look nice and my decorating efforts will add some value to the properties. If we stay, we’ll have a nicer looking house – so it is a win-win situation all-round. So I have been painting wainscotting (I love that word) and slapping my roller on the ceiling. Tomorrow, after finishing some writing work, I am hoping to wallpaper the bedroom. This fills me with excitement and trepidation. I am not too bad at decorating, but I pretend to be useless so that The Missus will leave me alone.
On the way down to the Westcountry, I spied Stonehenge. It looks much smaller in real life…

“Stonehenge, where the demons dwell
Where the banshees live and they do live well
Stonehenge
Where a man is a man and the children dance to
the pipes of pan”

So the Housing Officer arrived with someone I presume was from Social Services and gained access to the property next door. I was sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper over a cup of coffee and could hear here giving Brian the Liar a bollocking of epic proportions. Later, The Missus caught the Housing Officer as she left and asked her in to smell the vapours that were coming through our bedroom floorboards. At least this person could smell them and she said that they smelt like oil. The only problem was that she couldn’t find anything like car parts in the house, so the Missus informed her to go look in the cupboard under their stairs. The officer went back in there and hit paydirt. A direct hit!
Unfortunately, they’ve been given two weeks to clean up their act and we’ve still got the vapours coming through the floorboards. My sleep has been deeply affected by this as I can’t get used to sleeping the wrong way around! However, this is war and phase II of my campaign is kicking into life. Sometimes you have to hit these people where it hurts, and I suspect they are claiming benefits while working. All our other deductions have been pretty spot on, so watch out Brian the Liar and Idiot Bastard Son. Darren doesn’t take too kindly to being poisoned while he sleeps.
Yesterday, me and The Missus went out for a ride and did a little window shopping. We were meant to be doing some decorating at Chez Lock this week, but our plans have been halted by this ferrago. Do we up sticks and move or fight it out to the last? Anyway, I’ve got this idea for the place and want to get some nice art to hang on the walls. I am not one for flock wallpaper and chandeliers, but a nice bit of art soothes my soul. I even went into Habitat…how fucking middle class have I become? Anyhoo, I treated myself to a new webcam because I am getting a great response on YouTube and last night, despite the fumes, I managed to record this soundscape. It’s a bit flaky because I was having trouble focussing on the music, which I think you’ll agree is understandable.

Last entry for the day. After walking Alex the Wonderdog at lunch time, we noticed that Idiot Bastard Son had returned and was busying himself using a little hammer to break down the crap in the back garden and transfer it into the front bedroom of the house. We know he was doing that because we could hear him dragging the stuff into the room. We can hear this because our bedroom has no carpet and is varnished bare floorboards – the room next door also has no carpet and when the drag something across the floor, the floorboards act as a sounding board. The sound is even worse now we’ve moved the marital bed into the middle of the room.
The Missus is off on a break this week and we are meant to be having a good time. But instead, she is sharing my horror. I went to the Doc’s at 16.20 and got seen immediately. He was a nice doctor and this was my first appointment in a decade. He checked me out and reckoned that whatever had wafted through the floorboards had caused an allergic reaction in me. I listened to my lungs which were clear and recommended that any back pain was probably caused by muscular stress.
However, my throat was a little irritated and I was suffering from tonsilitis, complete with yellow pustules. So I am on a course of strong penecillin for the next week. Not sure if the tonsilitis had been caused by the noxious fumes or whether this was something dormat or a throwback to the really bad sore throat I had last year. But other than that, I was as fit as a fiddle. As I said to the Missus, I am an Ox and I’m going to keep on going till my heart bursts and I collapse in a heap on the floor with my tongue lolling out like the wild animal I am. I am pleased everything is OK because I must admit I was a bit scared about what I had breathed in that night. Whatever it was made me feel very, very off colour.
The young girl at the pharmacy in our local Morrisons was very surly…I don’t think she liked me very much…

I managed to get the Environmental Officer to come at 11am. I could tell on the phone that he wasn’t interested and probably wanted to just deal with a case of fly-tipping. I took him to the bedroom and asked him to smell the air. He could smell nothing, even though the aroma was still in my nostrils. Basically, he told me, there was nothing we could do and it is perfectly legal to store used car parts in your home, even if they exude toxic fumes that make your neighbours vomit.

I sent him on his way and he paid a visit to Brian the Liar who happened to be just leaving his house. I could hear the lie-machine crank into life and the usual cock-and-bullshit spew forth. The Environmental Health Officer didn’t even get a chance to look around the door. Pathethic. You can tell when Brian the Liar is telling porky pies – his mouth moves.

And so I called the Housing Officer dealing with the case. Unbeknownst to me, she had already paid a visit to the home this morning and told me that Brian the Liar was out. I corrected her and told her that they were in and were hiding from her as they had left at 11.15am when my man was dealing with them. We talked about what actions could be taken and how I had felt very ill and how I would take legal action against the council if I had thought I had been poisoned by this man. She was a good listener and she said it was an emergency case. I look forward to any response – it certainly must have sent her head in a spin because my neighbour Big Phil had been the one to contact her first and caused her previous unsuccessful visit.

After this, I realised that I might need to be check out by a doctor. I’ve lived here for nigh on seven years and never visited the doctor. That’s how fricking tough I am. I phone up the automated system and managed to speak to a receptionist who sounded as if she were 117 years old and would probably spit dust from her dessicated mouth as she spoke.

The conversation went like this:

Me: “Hi. I’d like to speak to the doctor. I just want some advice before I make an appointment.”
Her: “Well the doctors are busy.”
Me: “Could you give them my number and call me back.”
Her: “No. They can’t do that. What exactly is your problem.”
Me: “I think I might have been poisoned and want some general advice.”
Her: “Well you’ll have to call back in 5 minutes when the doctor is free.”

I am glad it wasn’t a real emergency…