18/06/2007
12:29
I woke up at 12, having had a brilliant sleep, with a dry mouth and launched myself into first cuppa of the day.
I scrabble about among the dog ends in the ashtray and make myself a rollie.

By chance I happen to spot that I have left sufficient gear for maybe two joints.
Unfortunately after stripping the remaining dogends there is only sufficient baccy for one joint.

I now sit toking on a well loaded joint.

I had glanced down at the front door prior to entering the bathroom for a somewhat painful exercise in chopping a log.
There was indeed mail sticking out of the letter box, also the whole coat rack and contents, including my “suit” carrier which has been enjoying temporary residence since return from hols.
Everything was on the floor, and indeed remains so.

The rack will have to be replaced.
Lovely pine coat rack I fashioned out of a piece of a pine bunk bed I’d found discarded in the backstreet.
If I remember rightly I also made a matching toilet roll holder.
That was back in the days when I used to enjoy working with scraps of wood; had to be scrap wood, and a spokeshave and few other tools.

I would have loved to have been blessed with the ability to look at a piece of wood, realise its hidden potential and produce a unique carving.
I peaked at reproducing household goods.
Another example of what Mother necessity can teach you in her round about fashion.
Soon taught me how to wallpaper when I found out how much a “professional” charges.

Watched a guy glue several pieces of plywood together,
Stare at it as it set while under constant pressure from an assortment of clamps.
The wood , not him.
Satisfied he would pick up his first tool,
Big, fuck off,
Chainsaw.

Within seconds he was lopping off pieces of this board,
First part finished, he went on to concentrate on the many different grains,
Some he would blend, others he would highlight the obvious differences of one to its neighbour.
Often stark differences.
Absolutely perfect, he takes it to the limit,
You feel, one more touch and he would have spoilt it,
It felt as if every ounce of potential had been gleaned from,
What is basically a collection of plywood stuck together.
Your eyes travel along the grains and notices the beauty of the surrounding hues of neutral colours.
Yes, I know its bad grammar.

I would have like to have a go at that,
Would probably end up with a pile of woodchips after trying the chainsaw,
But I did like what he did with the grains.
That’s why I liked to work with wood with which you could make a feature of the grain.
I sanded the wax and stain off a newly laid floor to get to see the grain!
Burnt several power sanders out and had to have them exchanged at my chosen shop on a daily basis.
Bless you Argos.
I did however make the mistake of using a high gloss varnish,
Which was fucking lethal,]

All the grandbairns in their socks using it for a skating rink and going arse over tit.
It was funny on occasions, but the racket they make after being suddenly inverted and having their head twatted against the floor,
Spoils the humour.

Having just finished the joint, I feel I will finish the story.
The floor was lethal,
I of course had to have the animal skin on the floor,
Some obscure yak skin, goat, or whatever.
Stand on that and you are certain to be upskittled.
Had to tether it under the two legs of a heavy cabinet seat I’d picked up in the second hand shop, for that very purpose.
I decided it had become too much of a hazard when I fell three times in quick succession when stoned one night.
Ended up face down,
On the rug,
They don’t half stink them rugs!
True you have to be at close quarters, but they do niff.

Out once again, the power sander,
A brand new one,
I’d swapped the last survivor of the de waxing for a new one,
Naturally.
The varnish came off remarkably easy and the machine proved itself very efficient in its role of what it was originally designed to do.
Remove varnish.

A close friend gave me some varnish,
About three gallons,
Apparently he had once been a caretaker,
Designed for use in school halls,
Non slip.

And indeed it was, it did a good job,
Beautiful finish.

Then someone comes in,
And says,
Oh! That’s a nice bit of laminate.

It was about then when I began to stop paying attention to the hundreds of faults which existed in the house.

I loved to pace around the floor, barefoot, feeling the icy blasts of the draught at floor level.
Hell I had 18 feet of radiator heating that room,
Yet my feet were frozen.
Where the fuck was the draught coming from?

I didn’t need my reading glasses on to find the answer.
The whole lengths of the two outside walls, some thirty foot, was,
Up to an inch and a half under the skirting boards.
I did think filler but after trying every filler on the market,
Stall.
I had to resort to, think body filler, car repair.
When you stuffed the hole in your car with the nearest newspaper and plastered cattie all over.
I was a no reward job,
The gap changed with the seasons, the wood contacted and expanded.
I’m sure the gap got bigger every year!
So did some of the cracks in the walls.
It was, after all a big house to be standing on a row of cobbles.

I have just spent a somewhat uncomfortable at times, 20 minutes with my care worker.
I of course had to open the window, lean out and explain it may take a while for me to remove the obstacles blocking his possible entry.
“The fucking coat rack has fell down,” I inform him,
I struggle with the combined weight of the travelling bag, rack, and remaining jackets, heave them upstairs and drop in bathroom doorway.

I take the letters from the box, separate the one that is actually addressed to me in person, and open the door to him.
He hands me the certificate which had lain on the swivel rock and often as not ,tilt chair.
He sits and asks how I am, and how holiday went, who helped me to tidy the garden, how have I been keeping, and several more questions.
I get him to back up, explaining,
I’ve just blown the last of some half decent gear in a stronger than usual joint.
It is to be the only one of the day,
When it chooses to wear off I will no doubt revert to normal and tidy the surroundings up, until then I apologise for the state of the place.
My father is coming down tomorrow, with some more plants,
So I had the choice, tidy up today, just in case the worker calls,
Or make tidy in time for Father’s arranged visit the next day.

Eventually he left assuring me that the state of the place isn’t important.

I realise I’ve just listened to a couple of hours of piano Jazz, cannot remember a note played.

I look at my clothes hiding the craftsmanship of the half captains chair in the corner,
The reasons for the garment being left there seemed perfectly suitable at the time.

I go silent and reflect upon the decision taken earlier not to buy baccy or gear today.

I have taken four photos to illustrate the extent of the problem, but am unsure as to how to get them to appear in the right place in the blog.
So, off to learn.