fahey week begins again (and horsemouth is on holiday)

it is the 25th anniversary of john fahey's death (and fahey week begins again)

later on this week horsemouth will produce a fahey discography focusing on the recordings that horsemouth owns. it will be entitled blind joe death to red cross.  

he will try and give them a listen again so that he knows what he is talking about (or typing about). 

in this week you should allow fahey to intrude on your thoughts. from the raw boned and attitudinal youngster to the grand old man of 81 with heart problems and  epstein-barr syndrome. 

fahey was always well-organised when he came to record. said one of his collaborators. others recall that if it didn't go right on the first take you were in for trouble. often it came right regardless. but these recollections conflate fahey at the end of his career and in the middle of his career (in the orchestra period). 

horsemouth is on holiday

indeed he is. there are photos to prove it.

he should make a bigger effort to look happier in them don't you think. 

today a slow start in the morning. then a journey into town. he heard the bells rung at st. magnus the martyr (he thinks, it could have been another nearby church). 

he walked to stepney green arriving early and hid out for a while before ringing up to minty's. 

minty and jacqueline fed him (butterbean chili and taco shells) and then himself and minty headed off towards bethnal green and broadway market in search of second hand books. 

in search of second hand books

horsemouth recommended lewis hyde's trickster makes the world in oxfam bethnal green but the queue was long and this deterred them from buying it. they tried the salvation army bookshop on mare street and minty got a brace of thrillers for bus ride reading. they then cut across to broadway market for a coffee and a further book browse (but proper full price art books this time). 

there was much to admire but horsemouth wasn't feeling it. when he worked second hand books were a reward to himself for labour, materials in a vast research project, now that he is retired, and has moved them to the wilds of hereford, they are kind of a guilty burden. he needs to get on and get shelving for them (so he can get them in his room). he feels he  needs to reconstruct the library before he can add more books to it. 

of course he couldn't explain any of this at the time.  

thereafter they wandered back to minty's block and horsemouth wandered off to get the train back. 

tomorrow evening possibly the beginnings of a plan with myk. 

and in the day...? hmmmn. no real plans yet. 

horsemouth wakes up (the usual paranoia). he's made himself a pot of coffee. it's a greyish morning (but at least it's not raining yet). 

his wanderings round

so horsemouth is back from his wanderings round.

he will now tell you about them. 

horsemouth leaves liverpool street towards moorgate. his aim is to find the barbican by the powers of memory and luck alone. 

he finds the barbican and avails himself of the toilet facilities there. the art exhibit in the curve isn't open yet. he ascends to floor 2 to the library and takes a look at the library sale (ever reliable) - there are things that interest him but not enough to make him put his hand in his pocket (as it were).  he descends into the record library and looks at an exhibit of photos of debbie harry (and an expanded painting of the single heart of glass). 

thence up to floor 3 to the conservatory (shut horsemouth believes - but possibly not). then back down to floor 2, through a corridor with a view onto part of the encounters giacometi exhibit (kind of like photo 2) and out onto the high level bridge. 

part 2 of his plan is to make his way via st. paul's and the wobbly bridge to the tate modern. there in the turbine hall he finds a giant exhibit by máret ánne sara. more mazes thinks horsemouth (though he does not pause to sit and listen). 

but his feet will not let him be. they take him off in search of crossbones  and then back to liverpool street via london bridge. by this point it had come on to rain again. horsemouth had left home without his hat and phone (like a fool). he had also not brought his laptop - he probably could have taken advantage of some free wifi here or there to stay on top of his plans. 

on the train on the way back he read more of the journal of a survivor. there is the dreamland where doris lessing/ julie christie can walk through walls into new rooms and architectural spaces and there is the child emily/ jenny diski and her interactions with the roving gangs of young people. 

in addition to journal of a survivor horsemouth is also reading the portable hannah arendt which he loaned to his brother some time ago. hannah arendt is (as usual) reliably great. look at this bit;

'... I know exactly what I want to write. I do not write until I do.'

in the evening horsemouth had a shower. he feels progressively better (he thinks). he's a little out of practice with seeing and talking to people. 

today in the day. minty. 

but first a changing of the guard in the wilds -his brother is off by train, horsemouth has just walked him down to the station. he himself will be making the journey back next friday (so you have until then to see him). as usual he's been cack handed about letting people know he is here. 

he was a free man in LDN. he felt unfettered and alive...

'horsemouth is 

back from his night out.'

unfortunately this was all horsemouth was able to write after his first night out in the wen (such was his worse for wear).

he travelled down to reach TG at the parkbench. arriving early he checked out some of the local book boxes (sadly diminished) and (still being early) he went round TGs to pick him up. 

horsemouth's plan was to walk down through hackney to the whitechapel art gallery to meet howard for 12. horsemouth paused by some steps over the railway line near brick lane to get himself photographed by TG in a classic urban warrior pose. horsemouth's route was a bit erratic really (the better route is probably through london fields and the various markets but they went via victoria park instead). 

at the art gallery they had a cup of coffee and a slice of cake while waiting for howard to show up.

the baton was passed. 

horsemouth and howard travelled back from aldgate (or is it aldgate east) to sunny east ham. at howards they listened to howard's new music - slowly nearing completion/ and very good it is too - and howard cooked a vast pie and mash and gravy thing (which they ate). horsemouth commented on howard's original golancz edition of millstone grit. 

they then walked to the pub (the boleyn tavern in upton park). 

the first three pints passed off with conversation and without incident. thereafter horsemouth became increasingly enthusiastic. they adjourned to a warmer room at the back of the pub near the dining room with its glorious sun roof. 

there are some photos so you can judge the before and after of it. 

eventually they threw themselves out of the door and back to howards where horsemouth picked up his rucksack and departed into the night. he returned home via barking and walthamstow queen street without incident. 

his mission for the evening has evapourated (force of events). he will try to get out and around in the day. saturday there's a thing with minty. monday a thing with paul clark. 

'we all remember that time...' (year of the fire horses)

yesterday in the morning horsemouth was out for a walk

first  a circulation round the north circular. then the william morris gallery, walthamstow oxfam, salvation army. at the william morris an exhibition on liberty fabrics and their designers. 

books

at the salvation army and the oxfam there were books he could have bought (but then again he has a lot of books already. a lot of books he needs to take better care of). 

he settled on 1974's the memoirs of a survivor 

(doris lessing salvation army 50p).

'we all remember that time. it was no different for me than for others. yet we do tell each other over and over again the particularities of the events we shared, and the repetition, the listening, is as if we are saying. 'it was like that for you too?'' 

so it begins. it is strange. flip flopping from magical realism and seas and sea creatures to society collapsing, hooligans in the streets and a magical child (apparently based on jenny diski)

horsemouth's copy is a battered picador with a photo of julie christie on the front cover in the movie that was made of it. 

pens 

he bought some pens as well, good but expensive ones, so that he can get on with actually writing  (if the mood should  take him). 

horsemouth has his plans for tomorrow 

a walk first thing (but first a train ride and then a walk), then an art exhibit, then food and possibly beer after back out east.  

for friday there's something but he doesn't know for sure that it will happen (time will tell).

saturday afternoon  a wander around with minty et al. 

ok horsemouth was hoping that he was out of the anxiety (but he's still in it). phew. horsemouth has got to be honest, the winter has kicked his arse. he's a bit ragged. 

it is the year of the horse. it runs now until february the 6th 2027. the people born in that year are fire horses so more impulsive than usual. 

an account of his journey

ok so a bit of a trip back in time.

caution. horsemouth is going to give you an account of his journey. 

he caught the bus at 0920. it came from a different direction from the usual. then to pontrilas then to hereford bus station. at hereford railway station the train was already waiting. horsemouth opted for the via worcester route (despite the near 50 minute wait at worcester). 

the smart people will tell him it would have been better to go via birmingham new street but there was a landslide on the line between worcester and birmingham and replacement buses and all that kaboodle.

he used the wait at worcester to go down to the cathedral precincts again (walking past a number of pretty cafe's and pubs in the side streets, it must be great in summer). he looked desultorily in two charity shops. 

so now he's on the 1212 out of foregate street getting into paddington at around 1423. then he will be journeying across the wen. he gave up his seat so a family could sit together, he pointed out to a girl that she'd left one of her phones behind. 

so he read the first story bride michael in the stories of robert blythe, one of his hereford purchases. he has plans to get around of few second hand bookshops on his visit (and around some book boxes if he can find any). he has brought a small collapsible bag to help transport his swag. he should probably call in at the old homestead to pick up anything that has survived the wreck. mainly he has come back to visit people. he's thinking he'll make more of an effort to get into town to visit the art. 

oxford already. 

ok horsemouth is hiding out in highams park. he is in the great wen. 

he thinks tomorrow (a wednesday) a wander round the local(ish) area - perhaps over to the william morris museum and the sally army. 

thursday a wander round with TG and then with howard. 

paul clark on monday. 

so he's up. there's a tangerine cat in a tree. 

the theory today is that horsemouth is off on holiday

the 17th of february, in 1872 in kilvert land, the tale of a forged will at vron ddu.  

the forgery is discovered and one of the forgers flees to america.

politics 

horsemouth has no idea where it is all going (and neither does anyone else he suspects). what will the results be of the various splits out of reform? not a lot he thinks - the name recognition is with farage (toad of toad hall) and then whatever party he is in (reformobexitoukip). 

in the triumvirate, the 3-headed god that you cast your vote on; 

your candidate - the party - the leader of the party

it doesn't matter who your candidate is - they could be a 17 year old or an ex-tory minister - the recognition is with farage and then reform (and in that order).

would people vote reform if it wasn't farage? (if it was back to tice for example?) probably not. or not as much. 

but farage has nothing to offer but civic nationalism (aka, racism) and a warmed up thatcherism. what thatcher did can not be redone. similarly what blair, brown, cameron, osborne (and the rest of that sick crew) did cannot be easily undone - in any event  the new labour/ neoliberalism world ended with the brexit vote and we are onto the next thing (gawdelpus). 

the maurice glasman interview is interesting. prior to watching it horsemouth had him pegged as a villain. the label blue-labour (or socially conservative labour) does not help, it is really much more about labour/ the working class and where the working class are, rather than where the labour party membership (and leftist creatures like horsemouth) would wish them to be.

the scale of the may wipeout just got bigger.

a lot rides on gorton and denton. matt goodwin seems to be more of an ethno-nationalist than a civic nationalist and that may count against him in an urban constituency. 

ok the theory today is that horsemouth is off on holiday - but he's not quite sure when he's going yet or how he's going to make it to hereford or abergavenny (depending on time and the best route) to get the train. he wants to be sure reinforcements are on their way before he heads off. 

looks like the route through birmingham is out (landslide onto the tracks between worcester and droitwich). that may make getting away earlier important. if he could get out the door early there's a bus. similarly last thing there's a bus. otherwise it's a walk to pontrilas. 

there would be a lift in but that means arriving in london later. (and so on)

'came back in rain' (horsemouth is ready for his holiday)

'after luncheon and a cold rain storm I started to walk to llan thomas. as I went up the long lands pitch a glorious sun burst, broke over mountain valley and river, and I hailed it as a good omen...

... came back in rain.' 

- the reverend kilvert, diaries, on this date in 1872.

kilvert misses daisy (the object of his visit) but borrows a book (thus giving him a reason to return another day to return it). the book is father ignatius' brother placidus. a book about founding monastic orders (in particular llantony priory - not far from kilvert or horsemouth).

ok a cock up with the garage door. horsemouth had it looking not too bad but then, while attempting to fix it, he has made it worse.  (he was literally screaming with frustration) it's a two person job he reckons. 

he got lucky the first time and then he undid that luck this time. 

horsemouth was feeling anxious and miserable. and then he cheered up. and then there was some bollocks with the fire not lighting properly and pretty soon horsemouth was properly fucked off again. he thinks he's over anxious and over tired and just a bit bored and fucked off (mostly with the weather).  

horsemouth proposes to go away on holiday and leave it for someone else to deal with. mind his guilt.

tuesday seems to be the day with sunshine. today and monday look rubbish and in fact after tuesday the weather looks pretty rubbish out in the wilds. in the wen it is similar (but monday 23rd seems decent).  

so horsemouth is off visiting and travelling 

thursday he thinks he's meeting up with howard. friday with enza and crew. the week is half term for howard (the week is half-term for loads of people) but still he's working the monday and the tuesday. 

thereafter howard is back to the grind and horsemouth will be continuing his visit to the wen until the friday. horsemouth plans to see people. to pick up a music notebook he left behind and such like. bookshops/ book-boxes - these he plans to visit. (horsemouth has been very low on consumption of late). 

it's the morning and horsemouth is up early. he slept well having eventually sorted out his head. he needs a holiday.  

there are blue skies and there is sunshine (it's a bit of a shock)

there are blue skies and there is sunshine (it's a bit of a shock).

it is quite cold though. horsemouth's plan is to go and muck out the hen shed and then at some point he will womble the eggs up the hill (because it is probably better to do it today rather than do it tomorrow as it were). if he has any spare energy he'll start potting stuff up in the greenhouse or digging over the garden to put some compost in. 

in the evening maybe a zoom call with howard. his mum will be busy with the rugby. 

at the moment (as he types this) he has a cup of tea and call feel the sun on his feet (and he's typing this).

he's just had to nip out to turn off a tap that he'd partially opened whilst it was frozen (and then failed to turn off properly). the water sparkled in the sunshine (that's how he knew).

the hen shed and the front wall of the garage are quite damp - he thinks that's the cause of the electrical problems with them. at the moment though he can't see the blown fuse or tripped circuit breaker. he's going to leave them to dry out (if the weather will let him) and see if that improves things. 

the lights in the hen shed are not so important right now - the chickens are laying well, we are rolling into spring when there will be more daylight to be had. the electricity to the garage has two real uses - it powers the spare fridge that his mum keeps the milk in and it powers a motion sensor activated light on the front of the garage. 

now the spare fridge will become useful (when the weather heats up). 

there is an underground cable that runs over to the garage. horsemouth thinks the hen shed is on a spur off the domestic electricity circuit (the power cable is suspended in the air and emerges from the attic). 

in the afternoon/ evening a battle with the garage door (it's old and fucked is horsemouth's diagnosis). a pleasant zoom beers session with howard (he's reading the god of small things having read carmilla). some confusion with TESCO. 

all problems resolved horsemouth listens to music and (because the ten o'clock news is delayed) goes to bed early. he finishes off station eleven (having told howard about it). 

the morning. it is rainy and horrible. horsemouth feeds the chickens. some of the hardier ones have come out of the shed for an explore. 

after a number of disasters on that front over the years

'yesterday we heard the horrible news from india that the governor-general lord mayo had been stabbed in the back and killed by a fanatic convict in the andaman islands.' 

- francis kilvert, diaries, 14th february 1872. 

you see this happened on the 8th february. kilvert heard about it on the 13th but didn't make a note of it in his diary. this was presumably because he went out to the rifle volunteer concert at the national schoolroom in hay that night. there he saw his beloved (so he spends a lot of time writing about that). 

normally horsemouth does not celebrate february 14th as st. valentine's day (after a number of disasters on that front over the years) but as let's kill captain cook day.

tomorrow no kilvert but thereafter a fair run out towards the end of february. 

fahey week (a preparation of the ground)

on the 22nd of february fahey week will begin again (with john fahey's death day).

it lasts out until february 28th (fahey's birthday and robbie basho's death day). 

last night another dave webb technodub show 'pirates and dolphins (appear in the distance)' remarked horsemouth (and then of course it moved on again).

saturday (today) cold but sunny

or at least not raining. horsemouth might have to get out and prepare the ground (and suchlike). 

outside it's the golden hour. there's been a frost. horsemouth has his coffee. 

today sunshine. possibly monday sunshine. 

friday 13th (first friday the 13th of the year)

horsemouth has done the walk into ewyas harold (and he didn't fall over in the mud - yay!).

he's just been stacking logs into the shed. he thinks they are too damp to come good (but who knows, certainly not your mule). 

once again an automated phonecall from the dentist - does it need to be replied to?

horsemouth gonged off the bell ringing - he was feeling run down after shifting and stacking the logs. it means there will be a month long gap in the bell-ringing by the time he gets back.  

it's the first friday 13th of the year

it being a 28 day february there will also be a friday13th in march and then another one later on in the year (november). horsemouth thinks that's the most misfortune you can get in any one year - though in a leap year you can get 3 friday the 13ths in the first 7 months (which would seem like more concentrated misfortune). 

it's a misty morning. in a bit horsemouth gets his mum a cup of coffee, there's a visit from the plumber due. 

his reading of station eleven  progresses. the georgian flu collapses technological society. the resulting world is something like the survivors - we are with a touring arts troupe (how do they feed themselves? do others feed them?).  the apocalypse comes while waiting at an airport. 

ah there was an american tv show version of it. various characters have been omitted and the plot has been tidied up. interestingly enough the production of it was disrupted by covid (how's that for bad luck?)   

conscientious particularity (a cracking start)

'... such a conscientious particularity.' - prologue to carmilla by j. sheridan le fanu

so yesterday horsemouth delivered the eggs and chatted to a tourist, the postman and his mum's home help. there was another tourist in the abbey (so things are picking up). at least it wasn't raining (or at least it wasn't raining heavily).

he also took an automated phonecall from the dentist for his mum. (which now has to be replied to - ok no it doesn't).

ok so that's that day accounted for. 

today also 

horsemouth will be off into ewyas harold to pick up the hereford times and his mum's prescription. possibly bell-ringing in the evening (he'll have to see). 

soon enough horsemouth is on holiday

'... fossil fuels are not being replaced by renewables, as the term energy transition suggests. instead, they are being added to the total energy supply. what we are witnessing, in other words, is energy addition rather than transition... we are living through a green transition; it’s just that it’s not the one that climate activists, scientists, or, indeed, anyone concerned about life on this planet actually wants....'

and here's horsemouth trying to rock the spot and make it happen. 

horsemouth likes the decarbonisation of the energy supply, he likes the decarbonisation of transport (more trains) and of housing (home heating). 

horsemouth's position is tenable. he's out in the wilds, it's all going ok (so far). 

keir starmer's position is untenable (so they say). 

but then he has just survived.

starmer will survive until the end of may (probably). he's a useful fall-guy for the gorton and denton by-election and later on, the local election results in may (further his likely successors aren't ready to mobilise just yet).

he may even survive beyond may - more stuff may come out damaging to his potential successors, the whole world situation may become so chaotic that dumping him begins to look like a bad idea. who knows he may suddenly become passionate and confident (free of mandelson and mcsweeney's baleful influence he may develop a personality). 

howard has been reading carmilla which he pronounces ' an excellent book'  - drat! that means horsemouth will have to re-read it. 

it's off to a cracking start horsemouth must say. 

here it's another horrific rainy morning. horsemouth has been out to feed the chickens and unleash them (but he suspects that today they will mostly be staying in).  

paul didn’t mention vultures ('stay calm. this is simply the beginning...' )

'what we all believed is true... none of them are any good...' 

- ian hislop (of private eye) summarises the sentiments of the nation. 

a former work colleague of horsemouth’s has summoned the guillotine (that most useful of instruments) and the vulture (that most sagacious of birds) to do the necessary work of riding the world of our venal, corrupt and fecking useless ruling class.

horsemouth had hoped they were going to load themselves into rocket ships and blast off in search of new markets to conquer (but no such luck). 

he had hoped they were going to load themselves into bunkers far beneath the earth and sit out the apocalypse (sadly not). 

ok here horsemouth lies, horsemouth's friend didn’t mention vultures, but they’re a nice touch don’t you think.

the conversation then moved on to the necessity for a guillotine emoji. 

horsemouth (however) cautions against rage. horsemouth pretty much thinks there are two kinds of people - those who are in touch with their anger and can make use of it without being destroyed by it and those who are not in touch with their anger and are destroyed by contact with it. 

horsemouth thinks of himself as being in the later category - if he loses his temper then he loses, is his belief. consequently he tries to go about everything calmly and carefully (however angry it makes him).

'stay calm. this is simply the beginning...'  

last night he watched small prophets the latest detectorists sort of thing (and very charming it was). michael palin appears as a senile old man in a nursing home. 

horsemouth had a dream where he was on south wales railways and he lost his rucksack.  

'the brightside of the planet moves towards darkness...'

yesterday horsemouth was being useful (he does like to be useful).

he has agreed to be useful again (if that would be useful). 

faced by a choice between everest and K2 the expedition thought it might be better to start on a smaller mountain. 

'the brightside of the planet moves towards darkness, 

and the cities are falling asleep, each in its hour...' 

- czeslaw milosz, the separate notebooks. 

horsemouth has been reading station eleven by emily st.john mandel (from whence the milosz quotation).  it is a disease apocalypse novel written before covid (published 2014) -  the disease hits. millions die. technological society collapses. 

in the front cover photograph by theo gosselin is of a deer wandering through a deserted mall car park. theo's other photos all seem to be hippie roadtrip.

and it's getting dark. has horsemouth closed up the garage? he'll need to go and check. 

wes streeting seems to think he can get out in front of the mates with mandelson thing and be a credible candidate to replace starmer. but he needs to get going soon, before angela raynor because getting out from under her hastings flat debacle will take time. 

horsemouth thinks sir keir can stretch it to may (but he could be wrong he could be gone today). maybe the gorton by-election will finish him off (or maybe it will consolidate his power). 

rabbit on the lawn this morning. a greyish morning but not actually raining yet. 

in honour of the black cat and its visits

nothing now from kilvert until the 12th. 

horsemouth (the split-tongued spirit) has been getting his head around things

there seem to him three options;

1) agree to it as it is and work out how to pay for it

2) work out what can be done for less and do that.  

3) abandon the whole thing and start again from scratch. 

horsemouth is a two man. but, who knows? others may be one or three people (or some combination of all three). 

he doesn't know (yet) how much room for manoeuvre there is. he doesn't know how other people will see this. he should probably email/ check. 

horsemouth always likes to think out loud i.e. write it down. he likes to see what he is thinking. 

---------------------------------------------------

horsemouth watched most of benico del toro's the wolfman (which wasn't very good). in the day he posted the opening clip from leo fulci's the black cat starring mimsy farmer (but not as the black cat you understand). 

horsemouth did this in honour of the black cat and its visits. 

thus does horsemouth (the split-tongued spirit) speak in code

'sat up late writing some blank verse in honour of daisy.' - kilvert, diaries, on this day in 1872.

phew. so the visit from mum's friends is done (it was good  to hear laughter in the house). 

horsemouth has survived again

oh dear the grand scheme of things has had contact with the world of reality and (once again) it looks difficult and problematic and as if the grand scheme of things may not survive. the costs are in and (as usual) they are higher than envisaged. cloth may have to be cut differently or a whole new route to the summit of K2 attempted. 

thus does horsemouth (the split-tongued spirit) speak in code.

'do you want to learn about rainwater harvesting?' asks an advert in horsemouth's feed. 

horsemouth looks out of the window at the falling rain and laughs. 

yes he does want to learn about rainwater harvesting (thanks for asking). 

'... in the time we went through together.' 

it is strange to think practicalities was written in 1987, that it is already nearly 40 years old, and yet it feels timeless.

3 adjacent paragraphs; the first sentences from two of them and the last line from the third

 'horsemouth is up. it's 8am ish. he's drinking his coffee...' 

outside it is a grey rainy horror of a day. (today and tomorrow rain).

7th february 1872 kilvert walks to hay 

(plommer does not mention what he was up to yesterday).

'the bridges were at home, gave us tea and showed us all their poultry, the white brahmas, the golden-pencilled and silver spangled hambros (horsemouth assumes kilvert means hamburg chickens), and that ferocious white beast the silver pheasant who has at length been tamed by having his long spurs cut...'

(you'll pardon horsemouth. he doesn't know much about chicken breeds or pheasants for that matter).

'the peas were peeping above the ground in bridge's garden but the mice appeared to have eaten many of the young shoots off as soon as they appeared above ground.' 

horsemouth has heard that mice are particularly fond of pea plants. this should remind horsemouth to get on with the growing of things. 

 

3 adjacent paragraphs; the first sentences from two of them and the last line from the third

 in the chapter house and home in practicalities by marguerite duras, 

'the house a woman creates is a utopia...

at neauphle I often used to cook in the early afternoon... 

all I had to do was prepare the vegetables, put the soup on, and write.'

this is what is so great about duras - it's that mixture of abstract and particular, of thought and deed. 

'the house a woman creates is a utopia. she can't help it - can't help trying to interest her nearest and dearest not in happiness itself but the search for it. as if the search were the point of the whole thing...' 

'at neauphle I often used to cook in the early afternoon. that was when no one else was there... it was then I saw most clearly that i loved them...' 

above duras at her house in neauphle (a beautiful old farmhouse and barn). it must be cold in winter thinks horsemouth. 

has horsemouth had his second go at the coffee pot? or is there more coffee downstairs? let us see. 

the fact that it rains

today (friday) mum has friends coming to visit. 

meanwhile horsemouth is unsure what he will be up to. 

the fact that it rains

it does indeed (rain horsemouth means). he's trying to work out if this amount of rain is typical (whether we will have just experiences the driest january on record)  or if it is raining more than usual (the wettest january since 1849 etc.). 

ok herefordshire seems to have gotten off comparatively lightly (150% of averages) compared to somerset/ aberdeen etc (200% of averages) but still.

horsemouth suspects it is a wetter winter than usual and he blames this on global warming - warmer air can hold more water vapour and thus we have more rain (and thus we have more flooding also). 

of course this can be followed up by drier, hotter summers and water shortages (horsemouth fully expects a water shortage in the summer). 

yesterday the rain is kept him locked up in the house (ideally he would have been off to ewyas harold in search of the hereford times). he tried to work out whether it was worth it or if there was something else  that would have been good for his head (besides writing that is).  

ok it was decided. he went

he'd talked his mum out of getting the bus in (leading to lots of pointless hanging around for the bus back) instead he went on his own. his mum wrote an endless list of foodstuffs that they desperately need before next wednesday. 

and then he was back. he thanks the driver who gave himself and the neighbour a lift back when they were walking along the road (horsemouth had decided the road was the safer bet going back having fallen in the mud on the common a number of times). 

the grump is leaving him. he's beginning to feel the benefits of having done it. mission accomplished - tick. 

no bell-ringing last night. they did it early and then went to watch the rugby (horsemouth is not a rugby fan so he thought he'd give it a skip - was this wise? he doesn't know yet). 

there's the usual mandelson, starmer, mcsweeney fall - but this faction within labour also included wes streeting (perhaps he will get lucky and escape it) but can he now stand knowing that the matter could be raised?

who is the alternative?  

is angela raynor too compromised by the brighton flat thing to go forward? do they really want a re-ron with wallace and gromit (aka. ed milliband)? do they really want a re-ron with andy (will he? won't he?) burnham?

what's the game plan? 

gorton and denton by-election 26th february (3 weeks) - horsemouth assumes there's no optimist who can be found who thinks that labour will mount a successful defence of it. defeat - heads must roll.

but then there are the 7th may local, sennedd and scottish parliament elections. these are 13weeks away - is this long enough to depose starmer and have his replacement in place? the timetable for these things can be as short as 6 weeks (2 weeks warning/ 4 weeks voting) or (in corbyn's case following ed milliband's defeat in 2015) 4 months. 

whoever gets in they have until 15th august 2029 to move the dial.

lots of rain in the night. let's see what the morning is like. 

horsemouth the retiree (true tales of american life)

so horsemouth retired

there was no realisation that it was time and that he was ready to go 

there was no sudden life changing event.  

horsemouth supposes that covid killed his job. it prevented the main business of his employer from going on and, at the same time. it revealed that the unit was not profitable (the workload was always pretty variable). 

and bingo his job was toast.  strangely the middle management who redundo-ed him and his co-workers did not self-liquidate in this process also. 

initially he retired because he could afford to do so at that moment. there was a redundancy process. then a works pension process (and a cash sum process) but because horsemouth was only enrolled at the last possible moment into his works pension (and because he never earned very much money in his years of work), these sums were not great. 

had the work continued he would have continued working. instead horsemouth was faced with the option of working self-employed (and getting paid less for doing it) or jacking it all in.

he chose to jack it all in. 

however, because he was having fun with the communal endeavour he did not end up moving to the sun or somewhere cheaper than the wen or such like but just continued on with his lackadaisical life.

only later was there a major change in horsemouth's life

and then his father got ill and died and it became clear that his life was going to be out in the wilds. 

quite what horsemouth is supposed to make of all of this he does not know (as usual none of it was planned). 

true tales of american life

a friend remarked;

'I used to hear paul harvey on the radio when I lived in the states in the 90s. he was a peevish blowhard unlike the great studs turkel who came across as a generous and decent guy documenting american life without any judgement...'

horsemouth replied that he'd never heard of paul harvey until horsemouth researched the quote (see previous posting). by way of similarity all he was able to offer up was paul auster's true tales of american life.  

his friend recommended studs turkel's book working. 

horsemouth thinks the truth of things resides in their particularity, in the small scale everyday actions of people. further to this he has pulled steven roger fischer's a history of reading out of the stacks to go with alberto manguel's a history of reading. 

he's just been reading about architect gregory ain and his park planned homes in altadena (and the effect of last year's LA fire on them). 

the good news is that some of them survived.

the bad news is that some of them were destroyed.

of course horsemouth went off down the modernism in LA rabbit hole. books, podcasts, exhibits and all. 

it's good to see people with strong ideas about community and to see it coming to fruition (if not full fruition). 

'a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains...'

'despite all our accomplishments, we owe our existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains.'

this  'old adage' (repeated in when the flames went out, LA review of books, anthony dinh tran, 25th january 2026)  is, in fact, by the (somewhat complicated) US broadcaster paul harvey (he's kind of the anti-studs terkel, studs terkel told everyday tales but he was a leftist, harvey, on the other hand, told tales of everyday life but was a right-winger and a friend of j. edgar hoover).

this probably explains the author's reticence in naming him.. 

horsemouth is enjoying tran's story 

the burnt orange trees must be cut down, six inches of contaminated topsoil must be removed (lead contamination), the costs of rebuilding mount up, and does tran really want to be there anyway? 

he can get the house designed (he works in an architecture adjacent field), he can email his mum for feng shui advice, but can he get it built, can he get the insurance paid (and the federal grants). 

it has its jg ballard moments of suburbia destroyed, possessions lost, ruins left. 

it is one of a series of articles one year on from the fires. but there are other articles on LA fires and rebuilding.

right now (as horsemouth types this) it is raining in the wilds. in fact it is dropping little 1mm sided cubes of ice (but these soon melt). the chickens have been out on patrol on the hill, at their height there were six, now it's down to a foolhardy two, now they are all driven back under cover. 

horsemouth's itchy feet want him to walk but he doesn't want to generate a stampede to the gate by hungry chickens thinking he is bringing food, he will have to sneak round the other side of the house. 

in the end he went over there to get wood for the fire so that set them off. 

later he went over to feed them and lock them up for the night (and collect any eggs laid). 

the weather is looking properly shit out here for the next two weeks. it's a grey misty morning with everything outside thoroughly sodden. today egg deliveries and the bin must be wombled down the drive. soon horsemouth must dig the compost into the garden and get on with growing this years crops.

and flowers. he should probably start growing flowers. 

oh dear a name has cropped up from the past. horsemouth can't say he's best pleased. it crops up now and then. it's a reminder to him that however distant it all feels there are still connections. 

dreadful accidents (and strange adventures)

'the woods are to be felled to pay for de winton's gambling debts...' - kilvert, diaries, 3rd february 1872. 

it's like something out of a russian novel or play.

kilvert is much concerned with dreadful accidents and strange adventures. the blue rocks at blaen cwm, the mawnpools between painscastle and aber edw. rider and horse perishes or the horse comes home alone and the rider does not. the rider is found drowned in the mawnpool with scrabbling marks all round the side like a drowning rat. 

and then the cwmgwanon woods felled for gambling debts (so the gossip goes). the de winton family seem to have been active in the church, banking, porcelain collecting and steam engines. 

yesterday a misty and grey morning. horsemouth was not sure what he would get up to. 

he went for a walk. down to the abbey. across the field to the dore river. along the fence of the military base. back across the road to follow the dore up a little way in the direction of the alms houses and then back to the village hall and round. on his way he bumped into the bus driver (whose guitar practice is going well). 

he had a partial plan to maybe take the bus into town but in the end he decided it was kind of pointless - his second hand book options are much better in the wen. 

'I could have gone on after summer 1980. just doing that. keeping a journal of time and the sea...'

- marguerite duras, practicalities. 

'the people who pay to hear you sing or speak are enemies you have to get the better of in order to survive.' - random sentence from practicalities by marguerite duras.

this is probably the least facebook, bandcamp, substack, patreon sentence it is possible to have. 

duras wins again. what is the origin of this? it is in her mother's fear of officialdom (a typical attitude of the poor duras says). duras's way up and out is through oral examinations a way with words as the title of the chapter puts it (in an adornoish echo, its english translation). 

'... when you have done it once, after you've once mastered the words and carried the audience with you, it happens to you all the time.' 

horsemouth supposes that the purpose of substack  is that you write endless essays as if in a try-out for a real writing job (one that is published, if not paid for).  

in differentiation the posts in blogger tend to be slightly less fully formed. horsemouth supposes it is analogous to the soundcloud/ bandcamp distinction. 

practicalities is coming the other way. from a known existing writer towards the quotidian everyday world. it was first published in french in 1987 but there had been the earlier semi-autobiographical writings from her. 

random sentence - 'for fifteen years I threw away my manuscripts as soon as the books came out.' 

horsemouth has been watching the first series of fallout (he should confess to this). 

candlemass day (the soul bell)

'soon after 9 o'clock the soul bell toiled suddenly. I felt it must be poor mrs. jones of pencommon... I sent hannah out and she brought confirmation of my suspicions.' 

- kilvert, diaries, candlemass day (2nd february) 1872.

'may there be peace and love and perfection throughout all creation, oh god...' (repeated three times) 

- john coltrane and pharoah sanders probably recorded this day 1966.

for kilvert the weather is unseasonably good.

'the morning was superb, warm and brilliant like a may morning, and the hundreds of yellow stars of the cape jessamine between the drawing room and dining room windows were full of bees.' 

today is typically groundhog day with all sorts of bears, badgers and groundhogs taken as prognosticators of the remaining length of winter.  

horsemouth has taken up reading marguerite duras's practicalities again.

'this book helped us pass the time. from the beginning of autumn to the end of winter...' 

it's a book of the year. a book of half the year. memories from the summer and from long ago intrude, but it's a book of winter tales. some passages are read raw and no longer hold his interest. others horsemouth discovers again afresh. 

three houses (back and fore). 

the smell of chemicals/ the ladies of the black rocks (trouville). 'where I live now.'

alcohol/ house and home (neauphle)

the round stones/ the people of the night/ the vasty deep (paris)

horsemouth finds duras' novels/ her plays/ her filmwork less interesting than her writing and journaling. the novels that pretend to be autobiographical he likes more (the lover). the wartime writings more interesting still (but he doesn't know what has happened to his copy). summer 1980 (the journal) he thinks he would find interesting but only a few entries from it are translated (and these he does not have). 

 

IMBOLC (pinch punch first of the month/ horsemouth the bicameral)

horsemouth has been reading alberto manguel's a history of reading and we are with saints augustine and ambrose in milan and with reading outloud and reading silently. 

in the book there is much theorising of reading comprehension based on notions of the lateralization of brain function (that the mind is divided into two hemispheres and processing of various stimuli tends to take place more on one side or on the other).

horsemouth has just realised that his current plans will have to survive a friday the 13th.

reading out loud/ reading silently

horsemouth you may know of from such roles as paul the smart and kind. it may surprise you to learn that he has also played other roles in his life (most notably paul the stupid and cruel). horsemouth has been bothered by some remorse over the actions of paul the stupid and cruel recently but there's not much he can do about it now (it's all done and dusted as it were). 

nonetheless it turns round and gets him sometimes. this probably indicates that he is doing too little. he was troubled less by all this remorse when he was beset on all sides by importuning ghosts and decisions at the communal endeavour. 

so here is howard and a tiger print from india (it's a bit kenneth anger don't you think)

as horsemouth remarked to howard (during a recent zoom beers session) he is happiest when he is busy (but not so busy that he is being worked to death like howard is you understand). howard finishes work on friday 13th february and then has half term off until monday the 23rd. 

this should work well(ish) with horsemouth's 17th to 27 itinerary. ideally horsemouth would get in to town sooner (but that may not be possible). 

here a rainy and grey morning. horsemouth was out to the chickens at about 8am. currently he's listening to a morning raga  by ravi shankar.