Full Tilt To Dilton Marsh.

It was Saturday morning and the wind and rain of the last few days had abated. I decided it was high time I got some exercise and went for a bike ride, so I pumped up my tyres and off I went. I headed up the Warminster road which I did not enjoy because of the busy traffic and stink of fumes. Also, it was mainly uphill which I do not like. I hate the pain in my leg muscles when the lactic acid kicks in. I was glad to turn off the main road onto the road to Old Dilton. Suddenly I was in the beautiful countryside cycling along a pleasant lane. “This is more like it”, I thought to myself. After a while I reached the church of St Mary and stopped to have a look.

St Mary's Church, Old Dilton.

It is a charming little 14^th century church which is no longer used for regular services but is conserved by the Churches Conservation Trust. The interior is said to be perfectly preserved and of great architectural interest. On the door of the porch I saw a notice which said that if you want to have a look inside you can borrow the key from a nearby house. I considered doing that, but in the end, I just took a couple of photos and cycled on.

My next port of call was the railway station at Dilton Marsh. I wanted to see this because it is immortalised in a poem called Dilton Marsh Halt by one of Britain’s greatest poets of the 20^th century John Betjeman. I love that poem, not least because it mentions Westbury in it. A friend had told me that there was a notice board on the platform with the poem on it, but I could not find it. I have put the poem at the end of this story if you want to read it. How a railway station in a tiny place like Dilton Marsh has survived is beyond my understanding, but long may it continue.

Dilton Marsh Halt.

Then I headed on towards Brokerswood. At a crossroads I came across the tiny tin church. This is a remarkably interesting little building because of its history. When the church at Southwick burned down about 120 years ago the congregation bought a temporary prefabricated tin church which they used while a new church was being built. When that was completed the tin church was dismantled and reassembled at the crossroads. A couple of services are held there every year and I think it is looked after by volunteers, which is very good of them.

Tin Church at Brokerswood.

I was getting tired by now. “That will do for today”, I thought to myself. I am 68 after all. I had one last nice little encounter on my way home. I spotted some goats looking at me from a field and stopped to take a photo. They are called Golden Guernsey’s. I know this because I got chatting with the owners. They really are nice looking goats as you can see in the photo. That made a pleasant end to my little expedition and I was glad I made the effort to get out and about on this nice Saturday morning.

Golden Guernsey Goats.

Dilton Marsh Halt by John Betjeman.

Was it worth keeping the Halt open,

We thought as we looked at the sky

Red through the spread of the cedar-tree,

With the evening train gone by?

Yes, we said, for in summer the anglers use it,

Two and sometimes three

Will bring their catches of rods and poles and perches

To Westbury, home for tea.

There isn't a porter. The platform is made of sleepers.

The guard of the last train puts out the light

And high over lorries and cattle the Halt unwinking

Waits through the Wiltshire night.

O housewife safe in the comprehensive churning

Of the Warminster launderette!

O husband down at the depot with car in car-park!

The Halt is waiting yet.

And when all the horrible roads are finally done for,

And there's no more petrol left in the world to burn,

Here to the Halt from Salisbury and from Bristol

Steam trains will return.

All Mirrors by Angel Olsen.

The weather has been awful today, dark and rainy. I haven’t left the house all day. A huge contrast to yesterday which was a pleasant sunny day. I decided to make the most of it and caught the bus over to Warminster. You have to wear a face mask on the bus now, and half of the seats are taped off to keep people apart. I had time for a quick scout around the charity shops before I met my friend. In the Blue Cross shop I found a 1984 first edition in very good condition of Money by Martin Amis for only £1.45. I should make a nice profit on that when I sell it. Then I thought I would treat myself to a new CD. In the record shop I could not decide what to get. I almost bought a newish album by Bob Dylan or Neil Young, but I didn’t because I wanted to hear something fresh to my ears. I spotted an album called All Mirrors by Angel Olsen. I had heard one or two of her songs previously on BBC 6 Music and had heard that she had a new album coming out. I thought that this was the one, but it isn’t. The album I bought came out in October 2019.

I have played it twice today and have not decided yet if I like it or not. It might grow on me after a few more listens. The opening track is called Lark. It begins very quietly but builds to a cataclysmic ending. This album is awash with violins, violas, cellos, trumpets, synthesisers, and many other instruments, especially drums. One of my problems is that even with my reading glasses on I have trouble reading the tiny print of the lyrics in the accompanying booklet, so it is hard  to understand what the songs are about. From what I can make out, the subject matter seems to be the break-up of her personal relationships. It is all very enigmatic. I like art to be about the human condition in general, things that apply to everyone. The private lives of individuals aren’t that interesting.

 I wasn’t too impressed with the title track All Mirrors, but I quite liked the third song Too Easy which was a much simpler arrangement with just four players. New Love Cassette I also enjoyed and the cacophony of sound at the end reminded me a bit of the Beatles Day In The Life. What It Is I found to be one of the more immediately accessible songs because of its simple rhythms. Impasse is a swirling mass of sounds. I found the arrangements almost overpowering at times on this album with the vocals almost lost in the mix, especially when you are trying to understand what she is singing about.

My favourite song after two listens is Tonight with genuinely nice melancholic vocals. I liked the relentless drum sound on Summer. At times some of the music sounded almost like a movie soundtrack to me. Chance is a nice song to end the album with. Angel’s voice has a kind of 60’s pop sound on this song, especially on the third verse. I think her new album revisits a lot of these songs in an acoustic fashion. That might be a good idea because at times I felt there was too much going on to take it all in. Having said that, I might grow to love this album in time as I get more familiar with it. I will let you know if I do.

Me & Angel Olsen.

Skid Row At Cloud 9 Peterborough, August 23rd 1970.

The summer of 1970 was the best of times for me. I was 18 and had just left the Kings School, Peterborough and was waiting to go to college in September. I got a summer job at Chiver's-Hartley's canning factory on night shift. For 12 hours every night I sat at a conveyor belt as millions of peas passed by. I had to pick out any pods before they reached the cans. There were dozens of Irish students working there as well. They used to come over every summer for the annual pea-canning campaign. We used to pass the time chatting and joking to relieve the boredom and I made quite a few friends. Unknown to me, one of those students was Bob Geldof who later became world famous in the Boomtown Rats and for organising Live Aid. I don't remember speaking to Bob at the time, but I read about his Peterborough experience years later when he wrote his autobiography. I think Bob lived in digs in Gladstone Street. Although the hours were long, the money was great, and being students, we didn’t have to pay income tax . For the first time in my life I was loaded. On Saturday I would head for town. Harry Fenton’s was the shop to buy clothes such as Ben Sherman shirts and Levi Sta-Prest jeans. I even bought a suit in Burton’s that I called Mr Burt because that is what it said on the inside pocket. Then I would head for the record shops to buy some albums. The music that summer was great. Alright Now by Free was heard everywhere and Lola by The Kinks. I bought lots of albums including Ladies of The Canyon by Joni Mitchell, Full House by Fairport Convention and Déjà Vu by CSN&Y.  Saturday afternoons we would hang about in the back room of Purdy’s coffee bar or on Cathedral Square to find out what was going on. It never seemed to rain that summer either.

Bull Hotel.

On Saturday evenings our gang would head for the Cardinal Bar in the Bull Hotel. It was called the Cardinal Bar because there were two huge pictures of Mazarin & Richelieu on the walls. We would find out what was happening after the pub closed. There were always parties, where we would drink Woodpecker cider or Watney’s Party 7’s. They were these huge cans which held seven pints of beer. I remember one night on the way home from a party, me and two friends met this skinhead who had just come out of a chip shop. He put his chips on top of a wall and challenged us to a fight. My mate Daz gave him a slap around the ear. He ran off and we ate his chips.

Cathedral.

Sunday August 23^rd, 1970 was the most memorable day of that summer. My Irish friends were excited because Skid Row were to appear at Cloud 9. This was a music venue in the Grand Hotel, Wentworth Street which was just off Bridge Street. It was run by a local promoter called Steve Allen. We were lucky to have Steve Allen because Peterborough was one of the few towns between London and Birmingham with a club featuring live bands. Saturday night was soul night. I only went a couple of times to that. I didn't like it because there were always fights. Sunday night was the night I liked when they had progressive rock. It was a much nicer atmosphere. I had seen a few bands on Sunday night already, but Skid Row were to be a revelation. They must not be confused with a later American band of the same name. This Skid Row were a three-piece band from Dublin comprising of Noel Bridgeman on drums, Brush Shiels on bass & vocals, and Gary Moore on guitar & vocals. I had never heard of them, but my Irish buddies assured me that Gary Moore was the best guitarist in the world. When the big night arrived Cloud 9 was packed. I think half the audience were Irish. There were canning factories in nearby Wisbech & Kings Lynn as well, so it seemed like every Irish student music fan within a 30-mile radius had descended on Peterborough.

Noel Bridgeman, Gary Moore, Brush Shiels.

There might have been a support band, but I don't remember them. Skid Row were unforgettable though, especially Gary Moore. I was young, but Gary was even younger than me, a precocious talent. He had long hair and had not yet acquired the ugly scar on his cheek that he had in later life. He was lost in the music as he played unbelievable licks on his guitar. I don't know anything about the technical side of guitar playing, but I haven't heard a better rock guitarist since that night. I rate him up there with Rory Gallagher, another Irish guitarist who I also admire. I'm not usually a huge fan of loud rock music. I generally prefer the singer-songwriter folkie sound, but I make an exception for the likes of Gary, Rory, Phil Lynott and a few others. 
I found out later that Gary’s guitar was a 1959 Gibson Les Paul which he had bought from the late great Peter Green. Gary could make it talk and sing. Later in his career Gary became known as a Blues guitarist, but that magical night in 1970 when I saw him, he was an absolute rocker. I couldn't possibly tell you the names of any of the songs because this was a few weeks before their first album was released, but I knew I was in the presence of greatness. I cannot believe that gig was 50 years ago today. It still seems fresh in my mind. It's funny how sometimes I can't remember what I did yesterday, but can recall vividly the events of half a century ago.

Gary Moore's Gibson Guitar.

The long summer of 1970 was coming to an end. About three weeks later, I was off to college. As the train left Peterborough I watched the cathedral in the distance disappear from view, and knew that one chapter of my life was closing and another was about to begin. ..............To be continued..

Space Ducks.

Friday morning: It has rained overnight which is welcome because it has been too hot the last few days. I have not been able to do anything. We British cannot operate in hot weather. The air feels a lot fresher this morning, let us hope it lasts. I am listening to a CD which arrived a couple of days ago. It is called Space Ducks by Daniel Johnston. I bought it on a whim. I am not sure if I like it yet. This is my second listen. I think it might grow on me with a few more plays although I suspect that it might not be his best album. I bought it because I liked the title. I do not know all that much about Daniel Johnston except Wiki told me that he was an American singer-songwriter and visual artist regarded as a significant figure in outsider, lo-fi, and alternative music scenes. He died in 2019 aged 58 from a suspected heart attack. He also spent long periods in hospital due to mental illness. He has a cult following that continues to grow and his work has been praised for its ‘pure and childlike qualities’. He was also a visual artist whose work has been exhibited around the world. In 2012 he released a comic book called Space Ducks – An Infinite Comic Book of Musical Greatness and the album tied in with this release. The CD also contains a 24-page comic book.

Bradford On Avon.

Anyway, I have not done a lot the last few days because of the heat. Bike riding was out of the question. I went over to Bradford On Avon on the train last Sunday for a bit of a family gathering which was nice. We sat under the shade of a tree in the country park. Bradford On Avon is a beautiful little town to visit if you ever get the chance. I sold my signed Alex Higgins book yesterday. I got £19.00 plus postage for it. Not as much as I hoped, but still a nice little profit. I will try and reinvest the proceeds on something interesting.

Yesterday I went on an online virtual tour of Belfast which was interesting. It visited all the areas which influenced Van Morrison. It brought back some great memories of five years ago on Cyprus Avenue. Also, Hot Press magazine has been sponsoring daily cover versions of 75 Van songs on YouTube to celebrate Van Morrison’s upcoming 75^th birthday. I especially enjoyed watching Bronagh Gallagher singing And The Healing Has Begun. There is a lot more to come including the President of Ireland Michael D Higgins reciting Rave On John Donne. That should be quite something. Also, last night I enjoyed a live concert online by Cara Dillon from Coopers Hall in Frome which is just down the road from here. Cara is from Northern Ireland, but she lives in Frome now. In the absence of any gigs these days it was great to watch some live music. Anyway, that is all for now. If anything exciting happens I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Cara Dillon.

The Atomic Theory Of Bicycles.

Lower Westbury Road.

I went out on my bike again yesterday afternoon. Just along the main road towards Trowbridge, then turned up Capps Lane, past Heyward House to Bratton. I did not meet a single car all the way along there, which was great. Then I came back to Westbury along the Lower Westbury Road which has not really been a road at all for about 100 years, more of a track, but better for cycling than the main road. I will try and go a bit further next time. It makes me realise how out of shape I am. I did not go out today on my bike because I took a walk up and gave Kim’s bench a coat of teak oil. That was enough exercise for me today. Also, it is not good to spend too much time on a bicycle, in case you start turning into one. (If you read The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien you can find out all about De Selby’s Atomic Theory Of Bicycles.)

I see that I have already had a bid on my signed Alex Higgins book. That is encouraging because that bid alone covers the cost of all five books that I bought the other day. There is still nine days to go in that auction, so I might make a good profit. If I do, I will reinvest the money in more books or music. Today, I put a signed book by Gareth Edwards in the sale. If you have not heard of Gareth Edwards, he is one of the greatest rugby footballers of all time. Certainly, the greatest Welsh player in the history of rugby anyway.

I am missing the social scene because of this flaming virus. I have not been to a cultural event now since the end of January when I went to the William Blake exhibition in London. Little did I realise at the time the catastrophe that lay ahead. I see Van Morrison is playing two socially distanced gigs in London next month at the Electric Ballroom. I will not be going though. I just cannot face  crowded London for the foreseeable future. Hopefully things will be better next year. We shall see.

“The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycles...when a man lets things go so far that he is more than half a bicycle, you will not see him so much because he spends a lot of his time leaning with one elbow on walls or standing propped by one foot at kerbstones.”
― Flann O'Brien, The Third Policeman

The Beatnik & The Pentagon Papers

Tom & Meryl

Sunday morning: I watched an interesting film on the telly last night. It is a 2017 film called The Post starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks. Meryl played the part of Katherine Graham who was the owner of the Washington Post. It was all about the decision to publish the Pentagon Papers which revealed the lies and secrets of the USA government during the Vietnam War. It was these revelations which hastened the end of the war. What the film showed was the importance of a free press to hold the government to account for their actions. I think the problem these days, in Britain at least, is that newspapers don't care about telling the truth anymore. large chunks of the media have fallen into the hands of billionaire tax dodging media moguls and their papers have become propaganda machines for right wing governments.

Daniel Ellsberg

When the film ended, I looked online to see what happened in real life to the protagonists in the film. I was pleased to find out that Daniel Ellsberg who was the man who leaked the papers is still alive today aged 89. One interesting thing I found out was that he met Beat poet Gary Snyder in Kyoto Japan in 1960. Gary at the time was halfway through a ten-year study of Zen Buddhism. He had wanted to meet Gary after reading The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. Daniel said that it was partly due to his arguments with Gary about active Buddhism  and US foreign policy that convinced him to reveal the truth about what was going on. I wonder what Jack Kerouac & Neal Cassady would have made of all that? They could be quite right-wing in their views sometimes. I found this little fact about Daniel Ellsberg & Gary Snyder and their place in American history quite fascinating, so I am glad I watched The Post last night.

Gary Snyder.

From Gardens Where We Feel Secure by Virginia Astley.

It is Friday afternoon and I am listening to my new album which finally arrived yesterday. It is a wonderful thing entitled From Gardens Where We Feel Secure by Virginia Astley. Originally released in 1983, this is the reissue CD from 2003. I was complaining recently that it was unavailable and the very next day I saw a copy for sale on eBay, so I snapped it up. It is the most expensive recording I have ever bought, but worth it.

The album opens on a summer morning.  With My Eyes Wide Open I’m Dreaming, has the natural sound of birdsong before Virginia joins in on piano. There is also woodwind on this album. I thought that might be her friend Kate St John, but there is no mention on the sleeve notes of any other musician. The album evokes the mood of a lazy summer day from dawn until dusk. There are no vocals apart from some wordless harmonising on one track called A Summer Long Since Past which also has the sound of church bells. This moves seamlessly into the title track From Gardens Where We Feel Secure. Some people might be confused with the title of the next track Hiding in The Ha Ha. Not me though because I know that a ha ha is a hidden ditch which, without obstructing  the view from the house often surrounds country houses to stop wild animals like deer getting onto the lawn, or eating the flowers. The flute sounds make me think it could almost have been written by Mozart, or perhaps I'm getting carried away with myself saying that.

Afternoon begins with Out On The Lawn I lie In Bed. The beginning of which seems to have the sound of a creaking rusty swinging gate. There are all kinds of natural sounds on the album, you can hear lambs bleating, owls, rowing boats and other sounds that I am not quite sure of. There is one repeated animal noise on track 6 Too Bright For Peacocks that slightly irritated me for a brief moment, but I soon got over it. Summer Of Their Dreams perfectly captures an afternoon long ago. The last two tracks are When The Fields Were On Fire and It’s Too Hot To Sleep.  The sound of a solitary owl brings the album to a close. I can see why composers like Delius have been mentioned in reviews of this music. I think as time goes by the reputation of this album will grow and grow. I still think it should be reissued, so that more people can enjoy this wonderful music.