"There's Always Room at our House"

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When is a ‘bedroom’, not a bedroom?

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In my case, when it’s a ’Music-room’.

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When I bought this bungalow, twenty years ago, it was described as a bulk standard, three bedroom bung. with lounge and dining room. 

(And before you ask? Yes, I have a kitchen and bathroom too.) 

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Well, four cats and their servant don’t need three bedrooms, 

even though the cats preferred sleeping well apart. 

I kept one as a ’spare’ bedroom, as you would, 

but not many ‘spare’ people turned up to try out my hospitality, 

or share with Wesley!

Although quite a few turned up to try out the music room!

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I also didn’t really like eating alone in a separate dining room, so the ‘dinner table’ was planted down one end of the lounge. 

The dining room was fitted out with shelves to house my lifetime collection of books. 

(I throw very little away you see!)

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As I never eat in there, I called it my ‘Library‘.

Even this is not now large enough 

and cookery books have ended up in the kitchen, 

music books have ended up in the music room 

and gardening books have ended up…….

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...at the local Hospice shop!

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Over the years, I have also collected a huge quantity of sheet music and a fair scattering of strange musical instruments, 

from an Appalachian  Dulcimer 

to Scottish bagpipe practice chanters!   

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Appalachian  Dulcimer

and below a

selection of 'Bells and Whistles'!

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Two bagpipe chanters (left).

There is also my harp, banjos, mandolins, 

guitar and five concertinas. 

I used to have a harmonium as well, 

but some years ago swapped it for a piano. 

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Harmonium on it's way out,

to make room for the piano.

Of course when I built the little street organ, 

I had to find room for that and the ‘sixty odd’ paper music rolls.

So, one of the ‘bedrooms’ became the ’Music’ room.

The so-called ‘spare bedroom’ now houses the PC and all it’s hangers-on.

(Printer, Scanner, Cassette converter, Disc (LP) converter and the latest addition - a VHS tape converter.)

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All my LP's are now re-worked

as CD's.

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One last spin and then down the Hospice shop!

So, when the 2011 census turned up, 

I said I lived alone in a One bedroom bung. 

(They didn’t ask about the cats.)

And of course it doesn’t end there  either. 

The conservatory, houses the washing machine and freezers so it’s really a ‘Utility’ room! 

And, the garage does not contain a car - 

but is really my ‘Hobby room’! 

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Yes, carpet!

It’s actually a workshop, 

but I don’t want the council to think I run a business from here!

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A while back I was asked, 

“What’s your next project, now that you’ve finished the Organ?”

Well, I have a huge backlog of things to do.

There is the model traction engine waiting for me for a start.

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1/4 size Burrell Steam Traction Engine.

And then there is the Symphonion musical box that needs a bit of TLC.

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Hmm. I think it might be the disc Symphonion next.

So to finish, here’s the Symphonion accompanying

 you on a wee tour of my music room. 

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Any volunteers to do the dusting?

Apologies for the sound quality.
That was the real music box
playing live,
and she, like me,
is very old!

"Ee bah gum. I loves a bit of history."

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Just before Christmas, I had an email from Sylvie telling me about how she had found an old song by Gracie Fields. 

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Sylvie said -

“When I was a child,  ’Fanny Fernackerpan’ was used as a kind of jollying-up name to get me to do something but I never realised it was a song, until a few years ago, I came across – something – an old magazine, perhaps, which had it printed out in a song format.”

So, before searching through my piles of sheet music, I thought I would google ‘Fanny Fernackerpan‘ and see what turned up. It appears there were several different spellings of this name, but all referred to either the Gracie Fields song or old 1930‘s expressions for being ‘finicky‘, ‘pernickity' or as Sylvie said more politely, 

‘Move your a**e’.

Now here are two old words you don’t often come across,  but our Mom was always telling us boys not to be so finicky as we poked around in our kippers looking for the smallest of bones!

My dictionary tells me -

finicky ['f?n?k?], finicking

adj

1. excessively particular, as in tastes or standards; fussy

2. full of trivial detail; over elaborate.

And what about pernickity? 

Well, digging deep into my Scottish Dictionary -

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Yes, I have a 'English-Scottish' Dictionary.

"pernickity"

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"She's far owre pernickity."

But back now to Fanny, or Fan.

Someone on the web said -

I vaguely remember Fan Fanackapan; I think it was my great aunt who used

it. I have to admit I always took any of these phrases used on me as

telling me I was being a ‘pain in the behind‘.

Another tells us -

Fanny Fernackepan has always been used in my family to get the attention of somebody who had wandered off from the group when we were out as in - 

"Oi Fanny Fernackerpan! Over here!" 

Now to find the name in a Gracie Fields song.

It didn’t take long to unearth it, as the name was actually in the title, but not a Fanny Fernackerpan, more a Fred.

The title is “Fred Fannakapan” 

and it was written and composed in 1932 by Reg Low.

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Gracie Fields sang and recorded this comic song, which is about a sister's new fiance who had been invited round to the family home for everyone to scrutinise  the poor fellow.

Can you just imagine going round to your girlfriend for tea, when all of the girl’s relations turn up to give you ’once over’? 

As with many sayings the general opinion seems to be that the name pre-dates the Gracie Fields' song, but no-one seems to know when it originated.

During my searching I also uncovered a poem by the late Spike Milligan.

"I am a mystery goblin. 

I'm Fred Fernackerpan. 

I wear one sock that's yellow, 

the other dipped in jam. 

I walk about the countryside, 

I walk about the town. 

Sometimes with my trousers up, 

and sometimes with them down. 

And when they were up, 

they were up. 

And when they were down, 

they were down. 

And when they were only half way up. 

I was arrested."

And here is a lovely old recording from 1932.

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Gracie sings Fred Fannakapan
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And if you want to 'sing along' -

FRED FANNAKAPAN 


There's been a bit of bother through our sister Mary Ann,
She had a sweetheart and his name was Fred Fannakapan.
She said, “I'll ask him home to tea, he'd love to look around,“
So all our family turned up to see what she had found.


There was Father and Mother and sister Mary Ann,
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan.
There were Uncles and Aunties and others of our clan,
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan.


Round the kitchen table they sat twiddling their thumbs,
When they heard the door bell ring they all said, “Here he comes.“
Father said “You look a gump, the same as Mary Ann,
Sit down and make tha-self at home, Fred Fannakapan.“


The family then questioned Fred as fast as they could speak,
How much he'd got in bank-book and how much he earn’d a week?
He didn't say a word, so Father said, “It seems to me,
The poor gump’s proper poorly, let him have a sup of tea.“



There were pancakes and pork pies and plates of beef and ham,
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan,
There was cold tripe and trotters and lots of bread and jam
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan.


Fred sat there without a word, as mournful as can be,
Mother said, “What ails thee lad, get on and have tha tea.”
He said, “My teeth have fallen out, I dropped them as I ran.“
And the only one who couldn't eat was Fred Fannakapan.


We finished tea and sat there looking like a flock of sheep,
And Mary Ann was so fed up she went right off to sleep.
Then Father said, “We can't sit here like images all night,
Let's have a drink and then perhaps the lad will feel alright.”

There was whiskey and brandy and port wine in a can,
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan,
There was bottled ale and bottled stout, enough to fill a van,
All waiting to welcome Fred Fannakapan.


Then we heard a knock and someone said, “Is Freddy here?
It's eight o'clock and time for you to be in bed, my dear.“
He said, “My Mother's come for me,“ and out he quickly ran,
And that's the last we ever saw of Fred Fannakapan.


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"Ee bah gum. I loves a bit of history."

and a joke!


Fred, a Yorkshire farmer,
went into a jewellers shop in Harrogate.
He was constantly chewing.
The salesgirl said, "Can I help you Sir?"
"Aye" he said, still chewing.
"I'd like one 'o them theer rings".
"Yes Sir, wedding or engagement?"
"Wedding, tha nos", he said, chewing constantly.
"Gold or Silver?", said the salesgirl,
watching him chewing.
"Gold", he said.
"Eighteen Carats?", said the girl.
"Nay lass", he said.
"It's toffee and it's stuck in me teeth".

"A feather bed, a wooden leg!",

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When I mentioned the other day,

that I was a bit stuck for ideas, one or two suggested re-posting

some of my older efforts.

This always seemed to me, cheating a bit -

but

as I am a bit stuck, here's one from last year.

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January Man

Being cooped up in the warm is an ideal opportunity to see just what you have got in those old boxes. It’s a nice job in the warm and as Spring seems some way off I was not in the mood for Spring cleaning, although after removing all the decorations there is certainly a need for it.

I had just read all about ‘de-cluttering’. It said.......

“Declutter! Dejunk! Throw away!”

“Go on! Chuck out all your useless sentimental bits and bobs,

and silly souvenirs.

In this digitalised 21st century,

your home should be shiny, bare and minimalist -

like those shown in television commercials and posh property magazines.“

I actually thought the article is itself, a bit of rubbish!

If there is one thing I can’t stand -

it’s a home that doesn’t look ‘lived in’.

Untidy….no. Lived in……yes.

I’m not untidy. I keep all my bits and pieces in boxes.

Usually labelled.

Boxes of old photos, boxes of old musical instruments awaiting repair,

boxes of old postcards and boxes and boxes of old LPs.

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And there I found my old Folk records from 40 years ago. Yes 1970 this record by Dave Goulder & Liz Dyer. I had previously bought the album ‘Requiem for Steam’ and enjoyed Dave's songs very much so I followed it up with ‘January Man’.

Dave is now 72. His birthday was funnily enough 1st January so perhaps that is where the title comes from?

So should I be throwing all this out?

In fact, according to a new survey carried out by YouGov

and a self-storage company, it may even be bad for us,

leading to all kinds of later regrets.

"Should we really have thrown out that box of postcards?

To most of us, the baggage we collect through life brings with it little jolts of memories.

And when we throw out that baggage,

we're carelessly depriving ourselves of those constant reminders of how we reached this point."

No, we need to save something.

My Aunt she died a month ago,

And left me all her riches.

A feather bed, a wooden leg,

And a pair of calico britches.

A coffee pot without a spout,

A mug without a handle,

A baccy box without a lid,

And half a farthing candle.

Is there anything sadder than going into the bedroom of an old person confined to a care home and who now has space for little more than a few photographs?

Well, I have lots of boxes of photographs. Some going back nearly 100 years.

There are quite a few with faces that I do not recognise and I'm sure future generations would not know who any of the people photographed were. So,I have been going through them, writing names on the back and I have decided to try and link all this together for my family, especially the younger ones with a few recollections of those early days.

My new blog project is here.

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"Go West, young man."

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To the north of me lurks Wycombe!

To the east there’s awful Slough:

A little south lies Maidenhead,

It’s the West, that calls me now.

And so it is, that most of my ‘Days Out’ take me off upstream to appealing places like Marlow, Henley, Dorchester, Thame and Wallingford.

I used to live in, and quite liked, Maidenhead, but forty years ago it was a town of character, now missing. I have never felt attracted to Wycombe and my feelings for Slough are not un-similar to those of John Betjeman -

“Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough.

It isn’t fit for humans now,

There isn’t grass to graze a cow.

Swarm over, Death !"

I read every day about ‘The Western World’,

about ‘Western Culture’ and ‘Western Values’.

So, where is the west, and is there a dividing line circling the globe?

East on one side, west on t’other.

Well, there are pages and pages on Wikipedia, but I like to think back to my

schooldays when, on opening my old school atlas, the east was on the right hand page and the west was on the left.

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My old Atlas.

There was a fold down the middle and it was always annoying to not be able to read names of places ‘on the fold’.

In those days I assumed anything to the left of the Greenwich Meridian was in the West.

It is also fascinating to notice how, in literature and song, that the West is portrayed as place of peace, a place of rest and a place of kindness and good.

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Of course, there are far too many references to this ubiquitous place ‘west’ to mention here.

I have often wondered which countries Australians consider in the west? For example, to us the USA is firmly in the west, but surely to them it is east across the Pacific.

And where to them is the ‘Far East’?

To me, there is only one west. A place of many wonderful holidays as a child. This is our very own ’West Country’. Here in England, usually meaning the counties of Devon and Cornwall.

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My old book of West Country songs.

Then, over at the extreme left of my atlas page,

is what us lads referred to as the ‘Wild West’,

with cowboys and covered wagons.

One of our favourites singers from those early days being Tex Ritter.

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Yes, I still have the LP.

One of my favourite tales comes from the pen of J.R.R. Tolkien.

His ‘Men of the West’,

his Elves going off to the west,

the ‘West’ - the realms and peoples opposed to Sauron (evil)

and favouring virtue and the Dunedin (good).

The West it is then.

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"A little grey home in the West."

Oh! And by the way, 'I am Spartacus'.

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"Down the Cut"

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Some of you may have noticed that I have added a link to “Ramblings of a Boatwoman”. Her blog is actually called “My Life on the cut. - From a female perspective” and I am enjoying reading it very much.

I have been following her journey by referring to my canal maps.

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You see, I have also been reading the ‘Water Road’ by Paul Gogarty. He is a travel writer for the Daily Telegraph and spent four months travelling 900 miles of England’s waterways.

The old maps are very useful to see exactly where people are.

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Paul, not looking where he's going!

(or perhaps 'going astern'?)

I have always been fascinated by our canal system and would just love to go off and explore.

My very first view of a canal would have been at Bournville, where the Worcester & Birmingham canal ran alongside the railway for many miles. When I was young, six or seven, Mother would take us to the Cadbury factory to wave to our Father. Now he worked in an area called ’waterside’, for the very reason it was alongside the canal. Here we could watch the trains, watch the canal boats and at a pre-arranged time, wave to Dad, who would come out onto those steps on the left of the picture below.

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Waterside - Cadburys, Bournville.

Later on, when at Grammar school, my mate and I would take his canoe to the ‘cut’ at Kings Norton and paddle up and down. We had to take it in-turns as it only seated one.

Kings Norton is at the junction of the W & B canal and the Stratford canal (the very same Stratford-on-Avon ie Shakespeare). There is a 2726 yard long canal tunnel here called Wast Hill Tunnel and we, being foolhardy lads, used to paddle off down into the darkness with no lights or life-jackets. They were the days!

I was hooked and set about building my own (as I would) in woodwork classes. I finished all the wooden framing and took it home to cover it with canvas.

This never came to be - I cannot recall why the project came to a halt - probably because of cost.

It wasn’t until 1973 that I got a real chance to see more of the canal system. A group of eight of us, hired two boats for a week, and set off up the Oxford canal. We travelled for three days and then turned round on the Grand Union and spent three days coming back. That’s me on the right of the picture in my Aran sea-going wooly pully. (Which incidentally, my Mother knitted for me and…..yes, you’ve guessed I, still have it today.)

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Oxford Canal - 1973

(with Chris & I think Lorraine, from NZ)

I also, still have the book we used way back in ‘73. I’m sure it is still valid, even though 37 years old, as canals and locks have a habit of staying put!

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Now I don’t have any music to offer on canals but many songs were written.

There is a link here to a site where you can hear quite a number.

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“Sound of Silence”

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I didn’t watch the leaders debate last night.

I didn’t have enough pairs of shoes to throw at the telly!

No, not true, actually - I don’t have a TV.

I went outside instead to look at this volcanic dust cloud.

It’s just a smokescreen they’re throwing up to distract us from the real issues, I thought.

Someone in one of the papers said we could expect some fantastic sunsets and sunrises as the light catches the dust particles. They are supposed to be like little glass beads.

Well the sun sank behind Winter Hill last night, rose again this morning from behind Cliveden, and I saw nothing spectacular. But I will tell you what is spectaclar - the skies overhead have been free of aircraft. Not since 11th Sept (9/11) have all the aircraft been grounded. The silence was amazing.

“Sound of Silence”

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I love this song. It scores equally with “Bridge over Troubled Waters” as my favourite Simon & Garfunkel song. Simon when interviewed, admitted there was no profoundly deep meaning to the lyrics when he wrote them. He said he was possibly expressing teenage angst and frustration as to how they are largely ignored by society.

So nothing changes, except that those that are now ignored, includes virtually everybody.

In the garden this morning, without those pilots going through their ‘landing procedures’ - without passengers ’remaining seated and securing seat belts’ - you could have heard a tadpole fart.

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Hazel joined me to count the tadpoles.

I could hear the trickle of water as one pond overflowed into the next - so soothing.

But did you know that 'water sounds', supposedly so effective at soothing the human ear, only works if you can see the source of the sound. If the source of the sound, like fountain, is out of sight and next to your office, it’s annoying.

If it is audible from your bedroom, like a dripping bathroom tap, it drives you crazy.

A certain Mr Kang has conducted Europe-wide research on water noise. (what a drip).

In England and the rest of northern Europe, nearly 90 per cent of us liked it. But in Italy, that dropped to 20 per cent. Why? Because the Italians have so many fountains in residential areas, they can’t escape it.

However, in some apartments in Berne, men are not allowed to urinate standing up after 10pm — nor women either, for that matter!

Imagine living in an apartment with a wall that thin. I’d have to permanently wear ear plugs.

Actually, talking of earplugs, I do use them when punching music. I also read that sales of earplugs have been rising steadily over the years, and sales of noise-cancelling headphones are booming.

The threshold at which people get annoyed by noise is 65 decibels but in many parts of cities that level is now exceeded.

“A place of silence must be closely held secret or, it will be invaded by noise.”

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The garden at sunrise this morning.

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"Flash, Bang, Wallop"

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'Old it, flash, bang, wallop, what a picture

What a picture, what a photograph

Poor old soul, blimey, what a joke

Hat blown off in a cloud of smoke

Clap 'ands, stamp yer feet

Bangin' on the big bass drum

What a picture, what a picture

Um-tiddly-um-pum-um-pum-pum

Stick it in your fam'ly album

When I first started these blogs all of the images were scanned into the computer, as then I didn't have a digital camera.

All my life I had managed with a roll film camera and only since blogging could I see the advantages to go digital.
Well, it was back in March last year that I went over to PC World to get a printer cartridge and what did they have on offer?...Yes, a nice Canon Digital...£100 off!
So, a whole new world suddenly opened up.
I was just thinking what my grandfather would have made of all this. About 100 years ago he was a chemist working at his shop in Stirchley, near Bournville. He was a keen photographer and one of the cameras he used, has been passed down, via my father, to me.

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So, without having to develop a film... and then from the negatives get prints, I can in minutes show Grandad's old camera and a rather small pic. of grandad himself.

I have quite a few old family photos but I have no idea how many were taken using this old plate camera.

My father carried on the interest in photography, being an active member of the Bournville Camera Club at Cadbury's.

His first camera was a Zeiss Icon and, on acquiring a new Minolta he passed the 2 1/4" square Zeiss on to me. I used it for many years, it had an excellent lens and produced some good images.

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The above shows the old Zeiss with a picture of my Grandmother on the left and my Great-Grandmother on the right.

I'm sorry about the reflections. I will take them out of the frames and show you better copies another day.

I then moved on to a SLR 35mm Pentax and now......a wee Canon, no larger than a bar of Cadbury's chocolate.

What would my grandfather have made of this 'new fangled technology'?

Dashing away with the smoothing iron.

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"Millions face 'Black Monday' as snow and ice cause traffic chaos."

Now I would have thought that should have read “White Monday”?

Who was it that sang “Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down”?

If I remember rightly it was the Carpenters.

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Recorded early in 1971, Rainy Days was included on the Carpenters album. Released as a single in April of that year, it became their fourth consecutive million-seller.

Days of the week feature quite a lot in song titles with I should imagine Sunday topping the bill. Of course Saturday and Saturday Night are popular and probably Friday and Monday also feature, but I can’t ever recall a song about a Wednesday or Thursday? There was of course a “Groovy Tuesday” by the Smithereens!

Poor DD reckoned the ten days of Christmas had been like ten consecutive Sundays, but here in the Kipper household is was more like a row of Mondays with seemingly endless meals of turkey. Cold turkey and chips, turkey fricassee, turkey a la king and turkey curry.

Mondays always were the day of using up the Sunday dinner ’left-overs’. If we had pork, roast potatoes and cabbage on a Sunday, you could bet your bottom dollar we had ’bubble and squeak’ on Monday. Lovely.

The other thing associated with Monday was washing. Kitchen full of steam, the old mangle hanging over the sink and mother praying for a dry day. With five children there was always…… always washing.

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At school we used to sing a song about washing on a Monday.

“Twas on a Monday morning, that I beheld my Darling,

She looked so neat and charming, in every high degree.

She looked so neat and nimble O, a washing of her linen O.

Dashing away with the smoothing iron,

Dashing away with the smoothing iron, she stole my heart away."

I still remember the words nearly sixty years on!

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"All Change"

Have you noticed how everyone seems to be clamoring for change?

Politicians are saying 'Vote for change', maybe, but change in which direction?

East Midland Trains just love to change things as their in-train announcements have a new word for stations: they’re now “calling points”.

This is even sillier than the silliness it replaces: “station stops” (as if, informed that the next “stop” was Leicester, a blind person might try to pile out of the window if the train stopped earlier at signals).

So now Leicester has become a calling point. The train, incidentally, is a “service”. We passengers are “customers”. And in railway-ese the verb “alight” has dropped its “from”. So passengers do not alight from the train at a station:

customers alight the service at a calling point.

Indeed, they all do when the service “terminates”.

Do you think communications boffins change ordinary English words for the sheer hell of it? Or are they just desperate to invent reasons for their own existence?

Music and Trains go together well on my LP by Dave Goulder.

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This to me is a real 'Golden Oldie'. I bought it in 1973 just when a lot of our railways were being closed.

Dave left school at fifteen and worked as a station porter at Kirkby-in-Ashfield.

He later transferred to the locomotive department to become a fireman after doing the usual spell as an engine cleaner and general labourer.

Most of the songs on the LP are on the sad side, but there are also some very amusing ones.

Two of my favourites are: "The day we ran away" and "Pinwherry Dip". This situation in the first is obvious, but the second song tells of a train going up an incline when a coupling breaks, halfway along the line of wagons. Being on a slope, they start to roll back down through Pinwherry Station and back up the slope on the other side.

"Ah, but now that the incline was in the reverse,

Those wagons are rolling once more".

This carries on for several hours...

"They were doing ten minutes a trip"

... until the wagons came to rest in the Dip. The inspector trying to get to sleep....

"But back at the station still lying awake....

.....I'm damned if I knew there were so many trains

in the best bloody part of the night"

And from the news.......

Because there is no rail link from Ffos-y-Fran opencast mine in Merthyr Tydfil to the Brecon Mountain Railway, the coal cannot be used to fire their locomotives.

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The mine's planning permission had stipulated coal could only be moved by rail after residents fought the development following concerns about noise and dust coming from the mine.

Therefore coal from Siberia 3000 miles away, which is brought to the ports, then in container ships to Hull, then by road to Merthyr, is being used.

Jayne Hills, the tourist railway's owner said the regulations were particularly annoying as the local coal would be ideal for use in the newly converted steam locomotive.

"It seems ludicrous that we could get coal from three miles away but instead are being forced to import it from 3000 miles away. I dread to think what the carbon footprint must be like of moving that coal but we have no choice," she said.

O, my god, give me strength!