"If Music be the Food of Love."

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My neighbour banged on my front door at 2:30am on Friday last.

Can you believe that, 2:30am!

Luckily for him I was still up, 

and tuning the organ’s thirteen Melody pipes for the Regatta at Cookham on Saturday.

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I had to set off at ten o’clock that morning, as I had to be set-up, alongside the river, at 10:30am.

As I waited for the traffic lights on Cookham Bridge, I overheard two blokes who were fishing close by. You see, two cars in front of me was a Hearse and a Funeral Car, and as the lights changed, and we all moved very slowly off over the bridge, one of the fishermen stood up, took off his cap and bowed his head.

When the cars had gone, he put his cap back on, sat back down and carried on fishing.

His mate turns to him and says,

“Pikey, that’s one of the nicest and most respectful things I’ve ever seen you do”

Pike replies, “Well, we were after all, married for nearly 20 years!”

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The regatta field is just upstream from the bridge and alongside Cookham Sailing Club.

The sailing club is here, because it is windy. And of course, wind is something yachtsmen find essential to their sport. It is not something us organ-grinders need in great quantity, just enough to fill our bellows and blow our thirteen Melody pipes!

Last year there was far too much wind everywhere, even without the ‘curried beans‘!

This year there was not so much as a puff.

My pitch this Saturday was just inside the entrance, surrounded by fantastic veteran and vintage cars.

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I was in good company. 

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Just look at the quality (£), oozing out of these Bugatti’s. 

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There were two of these beauties just yards away from me and also the most incredible, irresistible and most desirable ’Bird puller’. (No sorry, I got carried away.) It was an extremely elegant and attractive (£) Rolls Royce.

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I set up my tent and unloaded all my music, beer, bunting, bacon butties and organ.

It was a good pitch, as my playing attracted people as they came in. I say ’people’ but it was really the children that loved the sounds and sights of all my clowns and especially my ’monkey’, or Furry Chimp, to give him his official name.

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When I’m grinding outdoors, I don’t always put up the tent, but here it acts as a screen from the wind, a shade from the sun and of course a dry place for the paper roll music, (and lady friend) if it turns damp.

But as Confucius say -

"Lady who goes camping must beware of evil intent".

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This year, as last, I was on my own again. Even though I invited a couple of friends free entry on my pass, it was just Furry Chimp, me and dozens of happy listeners.  

What more could one want?

As I played, I gazed across at those perfectly turned out motors,

And I thought -

If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model.

I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull, but that's not the worst of it.

My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close.

My grip on corners is not as great as it once was.

I slip and slide and skid and bump into things, even in the best of weather.

It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed.

My miles per gallon is appalling.

But here's the worst of it -

Almost every time I sneeze, or cough.... either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!

It was very crowded this year. I think the glimpse of a bit of blue sky did the trick. As usual they had Dragon boat races most of the afternoon followed by the usual ’Duck race’. 

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You could ‘buy’ a numbered duck for a fiver.

Unfortunately, my duck number 70, stopped on the way downstream to ‘chat-up’ a few birds!

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As I realised I was ‘out for a duck’, I noticed that most of the young children in tow, also looked a bit bored at this mid-stream activity and it was only on hearing and seeing my organ in full blow that their interest picked up. At one stage I felt like one of those Punch & Judy set-ups on the beach. You know, with rows of children sitting in front on the sand.

It was great, and of course they all wanted to give the Furry Chimp a cuddle.

It was a most successful day, with everyone enjoying themselves and my charity collection tub was getting very heavy. I don’t at the moment have a favourite charity that I collect for, and here all donations were collected and distributed by Cookham Rotary Club.

As my dear friend Molly was requesting some more of my videos, I did have a go, but with all the activity, noise from cars and motorbikes, to say nothing of people walking in front of my camera, it was not easy.

Anyway, towards the end of the afternoon, as people thinned out I did get a couple of clips which, as they are not too bad, I shall inflict on you via YouTube.

If it looks as if I am talking to myself - I probably am - it comes with old age!

No. I’m usually thanking people for dropping coins into my pot, asking children not to poke the monkey’s eyes out or making sure they don’t knock the camera off its tripod!

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And this week, as you have all been kind, faithful followers - 

- you get a WOGOF.

“Watch one, get one free”!

No. 

On second thoughts, I had better change it to a BOGOF. 

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Hope you like both of these?

The reason I chose those two tunes, is that they are sort of test pieces, to make sure that your organ valves are operating correctly.

Well ladies, I‘m pleased to say that my organ passed these tests with flying colours!

Years ago, when I was a lad, everything was in ‘Black & White’.

It’s absolutely great now that everything is in flying colours.

Which brings me round to asking -

When you dream in colour, is it a pigment of your imagination?

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“If Music be the food of Love - Play on.”

(And I can serenade any ladies,
at anytime.

at UncB@BTintranet.com)!!!!!

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"Eat, Drink and be Merry"

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Do you know - (OK, a silly question - of course you don‘t) - that I have probably spent the best part of the last twenty years trying to lose weight?

It must have been around 1992 when I went the quacks because I had rediscovered the delights and problems that I had had as a child - namely asthma. My poor Granddad suffered terribly, and I can remember him puffing away in the wood shed on so called ‘Asthma cigarettes’ and probably making things worse for him. 

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A Smoking Gradpa toy.

I guess that asthma, like our long noses, must have ‘run’ in the family, as without fail, after a compulsory ‘cross-country’ five mile run, I would be off school for at least two days, wheezing and puffing and forced to inhale, from under a tea-towel, a hot vapour, known in those days as ’Friar’s Balsam’. 

Of course, as a child I had visions of this sly monk brewing up a foul mixture in this vast iron pot in a remote monastery way down in the West Country.  Later in life, maybe ten years later, I was to enjoy a totally different and most pleasurable liqueur from a monastery, not in Devon, but from Normandy in France, known as Benedictine.

The brew from the Devon Benedictine Abbey was just a ‘tonic wine’.

Never mind, still a good reason to enjoy a visit to the Abbey in Buckfastleigh, Devon. 

A travelling friar named Phipps,

Called at Heaven on one of his trips.

He quickly sold God

Ten penn’orth of Cod,

And St. Peter - two penn’orth of chips!

Enough of tonics, back to foul medicine.

For asthma, there was also this horrid concoction called ‘Liqufruta’ tasting of liquorice (which I love) and garlic which, (thanks to ‘Liqufruta Garlic Cough Medicine’) I cannot bear to this day. (Sorry ladies.)

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True! It's used for killing Vampires!

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Another ‘smelly’ thing Mom used on us was Vick. It was supposed to ‘open the nose’ and ‘sooth the throat’, but we boys could never understand why it was rubbed on our chests?

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Pam Ayres was also a devotee -

I’m sitting on the sofa,

By the fire and staying in,

Me head is free of comfort

And me nose is free of skin.

Me friends have run for cover,

They have left me pale and sick

With me pockets full of tissues

And me nostrils full of Vick.

I expect it all helped, but strange as it might seem, after getting into my teens and enjoying cider, girls, beer, real ale and more girls, the ‘tight-chest-iness’ (and choir-boy voice) disappeared.                

So for thirty years from then, I had been ‘wheeze-free’ and Doc free. **

**(As an aside, and this is perfectly true, I had been down here in Bucks for nigh on thirty years, and my registered  Doctor had been a hundred miles away back in Kings Norton! The anomaly was discovered when my dear old Dad went to see Dr. McCulloch, and he enquired as to how ‘young’ Bernard was, as he not seen him for some time. Dad of course revealed my whereabouts and it was then that I then had to register with a local doctor.)

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Doctors, dentists and checkups; not something I actually look forward to. 

I went for my routine check-up last Tuesday and everything seemed to be going fine until he stretched on a surgical glove and stuck his index finger up my backside! 

Woops, I thought. It’s about time I found myself a new dentist!

But seriously, I did receive a good, but unwelcome, check-up.

And I thought I was Doc free!

But all good things come to an end.

Doc did give me an ‘inhaler’, BUT he also checked my heart, my liver and my triglycerides, my blood pressure and my credentials, all my bits & pieces and cholesterol levels as well. 

I was caught, ‘Hook, line and sinker.’ 

Once ‘they’ have got you they never let go! 

So now in addition, I also take these blood-pressure pills, water-pills and things called Statins! 

I was also then instructed to lose weight.

Then, when I told him I couldn’t stop singing 

'The Green, Green Grass of Home', 

he said I probably had ‘Tom Jones Syndrome‘.

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"Is it common?" I said.

“Well,” he replied,

"It's Not Unusual."

A low fat diet was called for, I was told.

Well, I’ve been on skimmed milk (0.1% fat) for 20 years now. Haven’t lost an ounce!

I don’t use butter or any other ‘spreads’. Haven’t lost an ounce!

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I don’t eat any cakes, sweets, choccies or biscuits. (except of course Jan’s Cookies).

And - you’ve guessed. Haven’t lost an ounce!

No chips or fried foods, in fact, years ago I actually gave away my frying pan.

And drink? They always ask you about that don’t they?

“Let me see your hands.” the doctor said. “Mmm, they are a bit shaky.“

“Do you drink much?”

“No,” I said. “I spill most of it.”

And then of course he asked about smoking and exercise.

Well, I have never smoked. 

No, never.

“What never?” He enquired. 

No! Not never.

“Not ever?”

(Sounds a wee bit Gilbert & Sullivan here.)

Well, maybe years ago on a wee pipe that I bought in Austria.

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But not for the last forty years.

However, when I was a lad smoking was not considered bad for you. In fact there were these adverts like this one encouraging it to help you lose weight.

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“And exercise?” He enquired.

Well, every morning I begin by standing on a comfortable surface where I have plenty of room at each side.  Then with a 5 lb potato bag in each hand I extend my arms straight out from my sides and I hold them there as long as I can.  I try to reach a full minute and then I relax..

As each day passes, I find that I can hold this position for just a bit longer.  After a couple of weeks I move up to 10 lb potato bags.

I then try 50 lb potato bags and eventually I try to get to where I can get to lift a 100 lb potato bag in each hand and hold my arms straight for more than a full minute.

Eventually, once I’ve mastered this, I feel confident to put a potato into each bag.......

Still haven’t lost an ounce.

So he suggest I try a Mediterranean diet.

Now this looks a really interesting diet, apart from the garlic! (Thanks to that ‘aversion therapy’ from Liqufruta.)  

Pasta, olive oil, tomatoes, peppers and wine!

(And always avoid the - miles from the Mediterranean, 

really-bad-for-you, high-calorie Yorkshire Pudding.)

It said preferably drink red wine as it contains anti-oxidants. 

Now I know for a fact, that I have loads of ‘oxidants‘. 

I get them behind the ears, under the arms and around the crutch!

At last I have a cure - Red Wine.

So, last Wednesday I was in Sainsbury’s buying up some bottles of Chianti, Bardolino and Montepulciano….  

Some lovely ‘oily’ fish, and not forgetting, a few red peppers and some olive oil.

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And home grown tomatoes and courgettes.

Word must have got around as when I got home, there were these two women at the door, doing a survey on weight loss. 

They asked what bread I ate, when I said white they gave me a lecture on the benefits of brown bread for a whole 30 minutes!

I think they were just Hovis Witnesses.

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Make ‘light’ of all your troubles, 

and may all your ‘weight problems’ be little ones!

Salute!

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"Give Aunty a Nice Big Kiss"

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“Come on now. Give your Aunty Alice a nice big kiss.”

That would be my Mom saying that, somewhere around 1950.

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Us lads didn’t like kissing, anymore than we liked Cod Liver Oil, but we liked our Aunties.

You see, by giving our Aunty Alice, a boyish peck on her eau de Cologne scented, heavily powdered cheek, it might result in a ‘ten bob note’ being lovingly squeezed through the slot in my money box! In those days that was ‘serious’ money to a young boy. I remember saving up £5 in my money box to buy my first bike. A bike! Just from kissing Aunties. So you see, there might be an ulterior and rather materialistic motive behind me ‘puckering up’ even to this day!

And this day is?

National Kissing Day.  July 6th .

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I’m never quite sure why we have these ‘National Days’. I usually assume it is a commercial thingie, just to sell cards and cuddly bears?

But suppose it was a day, just one day, when you could go out and kiss anyone, (in my case 120% female), without the fear of the charge of an assault being brought.

No? 

Thought not. Just wishful thinking.

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Looking back over time, I can remember my first ‘romantic’ kiss. Well you do, don’t you? In those days it was a case of ‘shall I now?’ or ’shan’t I?’ 

It was a time of ’shall I get my face slapped?’ 

Nowadays it appears to be more like 

‘Hiya honey and hop into bed‘!

We, were young gentlemen then, with short hair and clean necks.

Of course in reality,

“I’ve kissed many girls under many conditions,

I’ve kissed them both with, and without their permissions,

But never a one, for a moment compares

With the one that I kissed, in the dark, on the stairs.”

Not true in my case. 

We were on a train, alone in the compartment, 

coming back from a day out on the Malvern Hills.

I’ll say no more, but I remember it well.

I still have a photo of her, as one in a group, in my youth club day archives. 

Over fifty five years ago!

I’ll leave her there.

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Those were the days when ’lovers’ wrote SWALK on the back of envelopes (and worse)  and children played kissing games like ’Postman’s knock’. In case there is someone not ‘in the know’, SWALK is ‘Sealed with a loving kiss’ and Postman's Knock is a game played by groups of children or teenagers (?) in which one person is chosen to be the "postman", goes outside and knocks on the door. Another person is chosen by the rest of the group to answer the door, and pays for the "letter" with a kiss. Then another person is chosen to be postman, etc. 

It wasn’t a lot of fun in those days for us young budding Conker champions to be kissing girls, but a revival today here in Bourne End library, might get me and the like minded more  interested in ‘Romantic Novels’?

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I think I read about this ‘Kissing Day’ int’ Daily Telegraph, because I’m not a great reader of women’s magazines, except in the doctor’s waiting room, where anything is better that playing the guessing game ‘I wonder what’s wrong with you?

The eye-catching headline was - (here - not in the Telegraph)

‘It's official - the Brits aren't kissing enough!’ 

It continues ‘…..a staggering 95% of young women believe they aren't getting enough’!?

I’m sure that 95% of young men must also be having the same problem, not to mention the 100% of old men!

What's more, ‘nearly a quarter of women (24%) have experienced a kissing drought and gone for over a year without so much as a hint of a kiss.’ 

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Over a year without a kiss.?

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‘The average period of non-lip action is three to six months for nearly a third (30%) of women. The forecast is not so bad for a fifth (21%) of women who don't go any longer than a month without a kiss.’

As there were so many statistics I will not bore you with too many, but it appears that us British, sweep the board with nearly half (42%) of the vote for great at kissing. The Italians - the Casanovas of Europe come in second with 15%, closely followed by the French with 13%.

Probably something to do with the dreaded garlic.

C’est la vie!

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And then at the reverse ‘slobbering’ end, were the poor old Lager swilling, Sauerkraut munching Germans who came top the list of the wurst kuss’rs, with over a third (38%) of the voters saying 999. (“nein,nein,nein“). 

I did a google for facts about kissing, history of kissing, reasons for kissing. All boring stuff. It appears no-one really knows why we alone in the animal kingdom, do it. It appears that animals do engage in kissing-like behaviours but it is not proper kissing. 

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I read that human lips are different from those of all other animals because they are everted, (I checked this out and it means that they purse outward).

I’m sure there is joke in there somewhere about ‘big everted lips‘, but I’m sure you have had enough bad jokes from me lately.

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Songs are, of course, littered with the word ‘kiss‘. 

I found hundreds with ‘kiss’ in the title

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And thousands with the word ‘kiss’ in the lyrics.

But there is still only one song in my collection,

 about a poor old Gnat’s Wedding.

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A bit later, I did a google on ‘Kissing gates’, to get a bit of background info. I was surprised to find that the first page listed Dating agencies - ’Countryside Online Dating’ and ’Farmer’s Dating Site’ - all named ‘The Kissing Gate’!

This is my idea of a kissing gate.

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I had always thought that they got their name from the fact that a young man could steal a kiss from his young lass as she passed through. But no. It appears that the etymology of the name is that the gate merely "kisses" (touches) the enclosure either side, rather than needing to be securely latched.

This ‘touching’ would also explain the term in snooker and billiards where one ball glances off another, as in - ‘a kiss off the black‘.

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I was going to investigate why we put xxx’s on the bottom of letters. I have no idea, but I think I have rambled on long enough. 

I have to admit that I’m not ‘into’ this new continental habit that seems to have caught on over here. 

Cheek to cheek with a complete stranger and making kissing noises into each others ears!

No thanks!

How about a good old fashioned hug?

There's something in a simple hug

That always warms the heart;

It welcomes us back home

Makes it easier to part.

A hug's a way to share the joy,

And sad times we go through,

Or just a way for friends to say

They like you, 'cause you're you.

It's funny how a little hug

Makes everyone feel good;

In every place and language,

It's always understood.

No special equipment needed,

No batteries or parts-

Just open up your arms,

And open up your hearts.

But I’ll let Confucius have the very last word.

“Confucius, he say,”

"Passionate kiss, is like spider’s web....., 

....it leads to flies undoing". 

I hope you all have a lovely dry weekend. 

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Keep smiling!

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“Measure twice, cut once.”

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A few of you may have noticed a teeny weeny ‘technical’ bit that I contributed to ‘Kath the Quilter’s blog. It was all about measuring an angle of fifteen degrees. I’m sorry that I may have confused a few ladies (and gentlemen), but these mathematical calculations are an every day  occurrence to us engineers. I was good at trigonometry at school and loved anything mathematical. This is a rather unusual piece of marquetry I did as teenager.

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All made from thin wood veneers. I worked to a published plan, 

so I can’t claim it was my design.

Now days if  I am given an engineering problem in the workshop, I sit down and work it all out on paper first. I then work it out a second time, just to be sure. 

My old woodwork master at school used to say, “Measure twice, cut once.”

I’m sure that could also prove true before cutting out quilt materials?

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A part of my collection of woodworking rules.

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Well today I thought that I had better make amends for all this serious stuff and do one of my ‘light-hearted’ posts, just to prove that mathematics and engineering have a funny side too.

  

Here’s a tale for you.

Once upon a time, three Red Indian squaws who were expecting their first children went to the tribe's Medicine Man for a blessing.

He said to the first squaw: "You must obtain the hide of a buffalo and give birth lying on it".

To the second he said : "You must obtain the hide of a bear and give birth lying on it".

To the third he said : "You must obtain the hide of a hippopotamus and give birth lying on it".

After they'd all had their papooses, the first two squaws felt that the third squaw was more blessed because she'd had twins.

They went to the Medicine Man to complain about the blessing, but he said to them : -

"I thought everybody knew that the squaw on the hippopotamus is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides".

This is of course only amusing to those of you who remember from their school days, that the “square of the hypotenuse, is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides.”

Groans all round I guess?  This is how one schoolboy found ‘x’!

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But seriously, angles can be interesting.

It was in fact my mother, believe it or not, that got me interested in cutting precise angles. In the 50’s with just us three boys, things had to be shared out equally to avoid any arguments and fights. You know the sort of thing; “Aw, he’s got a bigger piece than me.” Well, Mom used to give us a knife and say, one of you can cut the cake up, and the others can have first choice of the pieces!

I promise you that I can, still to this day, divide things into a precise number of pieces.

I can still take piece of wood, and cut it into say three or five perfect pieces without a rule.   

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And some metalworking rules.

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I have to admit that I passed all my Maths papers at O level and A level, but I did start to struggle a bit when studying engineering at university. 

Boy was it hard! No cutting cake into equal segments there! 

I remember one day hearing about these two engineering students who were cycling across the university campus when one said, "Where did you get such a great bike?" The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday, minding my own business, when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike, threw it to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want." 

The first engineer nodded approvingly and said, "Good choice; the clothes probably wouldn't have fitted you anyway."

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Wonderful old bike!

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All engineering graduates just love mechanical things.

That is not to say that there were not other things in our curriculum.

We did manage to find time for ‘liquid refreshment’ of course, but even then, we were not detached from engineering.

You see,

To the optimist, the glass is half-full.

To the pessimist, the glass is half-empty.

But to the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

But as you can imagine, after a ‘few jars’ of Mitchell & Butlers best, anything could happen. 

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"Oh! Go on! Give us a kiss."

In those days many a good tale was told in the ‘Slug & Lettuce’.

I had an engineering friend on my course, who recalled how he was crossing the Bristol road one day, when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful princess." He bent over, picked up the frog, and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn back into a beautiful princess and stay with you for one week." My mate took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket. The frog then cried out, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want." Again, he took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket. Finally, the frog asked, "What is the matter? I've told you I'm a beautiful princess and that I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?" My friend said, "Look, I'm an engineer. I don't have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog, now that's cool.

So here I am today, a garden full of frogs and hedgehogs, a workshop full of angles, tools and machinery and not a ‘girl’ in sight!

Which reminds me, talking of ‘girls & sight‘.

The other day I was coming back up the road from the shops, with a ‘chicken motive’ tie I had bought for 50p from the local Hospice shop, when I saw this glass eye fall from a window above.

I just managed to catch it before it smashed on the pavement. I looked up to see where it came from, just in time to see a young woman looking down.  

"Is this yours?" I asked. She said, "Yes, could you bring it up?" So of course, as she couldn’t see very well, I agreed. 

After puffing up a flight of stairs, she was profuse in her thanks and she offered me a drink. As she was very attractive, I agreed. Shortly afterwards she said, "I'm about to have dinner. There's plenty; would you like to join me?" 

As I was a near-starving-pensioner, I readily accepted her offer and we both enjoyed a lovely meal. As the evening was drawing to a close the lady said, "I've had a marvellous evening. Would you like to stay the night?" 

Of course I hesitated, I had Wesley to feed, so I said, "Do you act like this with every man you meet?" 

"No," she replied, "only those who catch my eye."

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Well by now you must be thinking that poor old Uncle Bernard has gone completely ‘off his trolley’. 

You could be right, but don’t forget it takes one, to recognise one, or so I believe?

But, during my last visit to my  doctor, I asked him, 

"How do you determine whether or not an older person should be put in an Care Home?"

"Well,"  he said, "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a  teacup and a bucket to the person to empty the bath."

"Oh, I understand," I  said. "A normal person would use the bucket, because it is bigger than the spoon or the teacup." 

 "No" he said. "A normal  person would pull the bath-plug out!

And, then calmly handed me an application form!

And talking of trolleys, this is what I have been making this last week.

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A super-dooper four wheeled Organ trolley with pneumatic tyres!

(And yes, the handle is/was an old 'rolling-pin.)

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"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!