Henri Salvador - Juanita Banana

This is totally infantile humour but there's just something about it that I love: particularly the quivery feathers at the end

A gruesome little Suffolk tale

During a little tete-a tete with the lovely NMJ and Anna MR the topic of death masks arose (no, dears, don't ask). Anyroadup, I mentioned that in the local museum at Bury St Edmunds there is the death mask of the man who murdered Maria Marten of the Red Barn. Lo and behold, Anna MR, who is a 'thesp' amongst other delights, says she has played said rogue on the stage.

However, she has never seen the 'face' of the scoundrel whose persona she inhabited so, my dear Anna, this is just for you:

On May 18 1827 Maria Marten, 26 year old daughter of mole catcher Thomas Marten, left her father's cottage at Polstead for the last time. She said a tearful farewell to her young son, her sister and her stepmother, then set out to meet William Corder, her 24 year old lover, in the Red Barn. At his request she went dressed as a man. Her family never saw or heard from her again.

In April the following year Thomas Marten was prompted by his wife to search the Red Barn. He discovered a shallow grave which contained a body, recognisable from the clothing as that of Maria. Shortly afterwards, William Corder was arrested in London. He was taken to Polstead for the inquest and sent to Bury St Edmunds to stand trial.

Corder's trial took place on Thursday 7 and Friday 8 of August 1828. Throughout the trial he claimed his innocence. Nevertheless he was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging. His body was to be anatomised (dissected).

Shortly before the sentence was carried out, Corder confessed. He was executed on the Monday August 11, at the county gaol in Bury St Edmunds. Despite heavy rain

thousands of spectators attended. The body was taken to the Shire Hall, where it was

cut open and laid out on show.

Thousands of people filed past to view it before it was removed for dissection at the West Suffolk Hospital.

The skeleton was kept, and the scalp and part of the skin were preserved.

The surgeon, George Creed, later had an account of the trial bound in leather made from Corder's skin.

If you want to know even more you can go to here and follow the links

Lubbly Jubbly

Dear Signs has bestowed two (!) awards upon me at the same time: a Nice Matters and a Creative Blogger Award.

Lucky Cusp

Thanks Signs

Fraulien Poesie poses for pictures

And lo (no, don't ask me why everything has a biblical slant at the moment) the black hole spat out the many things it had been holding for many a day. Amongst them was the cable for transferring images from camera to computer and so now I can show you some pictures of Fraulein Poesie when she briefly stopped over before going over to The Great Forest.

As you can see,Fraulein Poesie is very particular about her appearance. She always wears jewellery -- earrings, necklace etc. and her famous purple trousers

............................with embellished cummerbund

She always carries her quill and notebook for jotting down ideas

Waiting for the muse to come upon her

Must quickly write this down

Now, of course, Fraulien Poesie is very happily settled near The Great Forest with Signs and Mr Signs. She must be very happy. She has a bohemian past and really relishes the exquisite company she now keeps.

Lucky Poesie !!

Sock Monkey travels to new home

And Lo...it came to pass that a Sock Monkey appeared in the night sky over Suffolk. She had been travelling for many a long day and night to reach her benefactor Cusp. Yeah, for she had toiled and yearned to move from her native Dusseldorf to Suffolk.

And Cusp looked upon the monkey and said,

'Truly Fraulien Poesie...' ,for that was her name,' .... thou
shalt be better off in the home of a great and true writer.

There's not much here to nurture your creative writing spirit for we are a house of visual artists and people-helpers, old chickens, old dogs, old rabbits and cavies....'

'Thou shalt be transported through the magic of the postal system (when it
is working) to a better place; a place where only great writers live....to a
forest on the edge of Publication Land.'

And so it was that little Fraulein Poesie took up her quill and her little purple notebook, dressed up in her finest purple pants and jewellery and winged her way to The Great Forest to meet Signs.

I believe that Signs has agreed to foster, but if you really want to see what happened next you must pop over to dear Signs' blog.

I would show you myself but my camera cable is lost in a big hole in this house which seems to be swallowing all manner of stuff at the moment: my cable, daughter's Nintendo, partner's spare mobile, set of keys.....all disappeared without trace!

No matter. Do hop over to Signs and help her to welcome Fraulien Poesie to her new abode

Another foray into the world and what it's really like for me

Yesterday I had to gird my loins again and 'just get on with it.'

E, my son, had to go to the dentists and the dentist only works the same days as my partner so I had to take him and then drive him on to school 15 miles away. I really wasn't up to it but 'needs must' as they say and it did give me some extra time with E. who's a jolly old soul and a pleasure to be with (unless it's sleep time and he really wants to watch 'Casualty' !)

Having done the deed I sat in the school car park and got my breath back. Here I was faced with the usual dilemna : it's pouring with rain, I'm tired out and I've spent the mornig so far chasing a child round to hurry up and get ready for the dentists, driven 15 miles to school and seen he's OK for tuck, completed homework and clean clothes and has been soothed after the dentist. Shall I take out some time for me and if I do, do I have the energy ?

There has been a show I've wanted to see at the Gallery in Bury St. Edmunds for weeks. I'm actually very tired. My head aches, my muscles are burning, I have a sugar-low coming on and I really should turn around and go straight back home and sleep BUT I'm sick of being beholden to 'this bastard illness', as Signs calls it, so I decide to say 'Sod it' and drive in to town anyway.

I find a space and walk slowly up the hill to the gallery. I always have mixed feelings about going there as it's a place where I had many meetings when I was working and I was very involved with all sorts of changes. It reminds me of how I used to be and what I could do. I don't like to be reminded. It makes me feel inept and a failure if I'm honest. I know 'this bastard illness' isn't in my head. I know it isn't something I can get over with a bit more will power (I'd have been better years ago if that were possible ---I'm good at will power) but being reminded of what I used to do, be able to do is not a comfortable feeling. And it reminds me that I have done and am doing all I can to combat the ME bogeyman and that awful feeling that no matter what I do I seem beholden to him or it.

Nevertheless....onward and upward....up the hill as well...and into the gallery. Up a steep flight of stairs. I should use the lift which was installed for disabled access. I was part of the committee that campaigned for the lift. I can't use it. I'm too proud so I walk up.

I get my breath again and try to switch my head into positivity and smile at the reception lady. I'm here. At last. I sit in the 'coffee and arty books section' for 5 minutes to adjust to the new altitude (it's a long way up here).

Eventually I have enough 'go' to actually look at the work on display. I'm really glad I made the effort. The show is called 'Traditional Skills, New Thinking Stitching and knitting for the 21st century. It features some great artists including Michael Brennand-Wood

Consequences of Proximities: All Night Flight. Mixed media on board.100 x 100 cm.

and a Dutch woman, Felieke Van Der Leest who crochets the most exquisite outfits for little plastic animals

Now I'm back in a world I understand. Now I'm back where I'm supposed to be. I find inpsiration in these strange objects and images woven with real hair, fancy knitted cushions with lace and ruffs surmounted by a lamb's skull. I can't be a part of this world in the way I used to be. I can't be this energetic person doing 3 jobs at once. I cannot even volunteer to be a Gallery guide because by the time I've driven here (even on my very best day) I'd need a guide for myself. That world has gone. I need to move on. I can make a new world.

I look at my watch and the parking ticket is nearly up. I have to get back. I need to hurry but my legs won't let me. I'm frightened going down the stairs of the gallery to street level in case I fall. My pride gets in the way. If I do hurry, is the Insurance Company using 'covert surveillance' on me to see if I'm more able than I say? ( This is no paranoid joke, dear reader, for it is well known in the ME community, and well proven, that these Companies will use such tactics to try and wriggle out of paying out on a policy).

Eventually I get back inside the car. I just sit and close my eyes. I've done it. Seen the show. I'm 'finished' now and still have to drive back the 15 miles home down the A14 in, what is now, torrential rain. Driving in this state is a challenge at the best of times. I have the radio on quite loud, the window open as much as I dare (with the rain), the air vents full open and the blower on full too to try to keep me alert.

Pulling in the drive I know I've been out of the house for 2 and a half hours. I go straight to bed and sleep like the dead for another 2 and a half hours.

Today I'm sore again, fit for nothing...other than lying on the sofa and typing this three times to get it right with no mistakes and no slip ups.

It's been worth it.

Any gain with the pain ?

Recently Signs was commenting on one of Flutter's posts and said how PWME (peeps wid M.E.) are part of the 'All Pain But No Gain' Club.

Funnily enough I was kind of spouting this phrase yesterday when my dear friend S. (the one who lives in the Commune) ventured out to visit us for lunch. This journey is no mean feat for her. She is a wheel chair user, has recently spent 15 months in bed and has only just begun to sally forth into the big wide world again. Her energy and pain levels are as fluctuating and precarious as mine.

Our meetings are arranged via innumerable e mails which gauge our respective energy levels, levels of near-suicidal boredom with our own surroundings, the amount of circular conversations we are having with the same people who happen to be around, or chickens, or cats or dogs and trying to come to a final decision about how to meet, our medical conditions and the World in general.

Anyway, yesterday we finally got it together and met here, had lunch and chatted away til the cows felt so at home that they came walking into the living room and settled in on the sofa

I have always had much respect for S. We have known each other for over 15 years and worked together for ten; hatching up many ludicrous and very amusing arts projects over that time. She has been a wheelchair user for over 30 years and been through many of the emotions I have experienced more recently whilst coming to terms with a new life thrust upon me. Before recently taking enforced early-retirement she kept up a relentless pace at work with good humour, grace, integrity and a real passion to do well by the people she worked for (people with learning disabilities).

We'd made arrangements for her to arrive here by about 10.30 --- giving us plenty of time to natter, have lunch and still leave time for me to have my daily sleep at 1.30. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get beyond the need for a long sleep mid-day. My energy levels are such that after few hours I sink into a sort of comatose dopedom --- like a sleepy bumble bee on a too-cold day, droning away in a kind of stumbling stupour.

Inevitably, things didn't work out the way we planned. I have been feeling pretty grim, of late, and even nearly called off our lunch date. I was feeling particularly dopey and untogether yesterday. However, I was aware that S was really looking forward to venturing out of her place and I didn't want to disappoint so went ahead. With so much to catch up on, and us being us, we nattered away, oblivious of time: me resting on the sofa and mumbling away like a kind of opiated Barbara Cartland dictating yet another novella.

Lunch wasn't started until 2.00 and by the time we finished it was 3.15. My chum had said several times that it was my nap time but I wasn't going to miss lunch and more 'catch-up' so I kind of (mis)quoted Signs

'.....I hardly ever get to see you now and there's no gain without pain'

After lunch I fell into bed and slept like the dead -- happy-dead because I'd just had a bowl of apple cake and whipped cream and enjoyed a lovely conversation, but near-dead all the same.


Today I'm really paying for it: dragged myself to the library with my daughter, still feeling near dead and very giddy and putting on the brave face, so there is 'pain' --- but the gain of not disappointing a close friend and the lingering pleasure of a few hours together after so long apart is gain enough for me.

Lydia the Tattooed Lady

Number 42 on my list of Fifty Favourite Things !

Fifty of my favourite things

1. Windy days
2. Lemons
3. Fried onions
4. Whippets
5. 2cvs
6. anemones
7. chick peas
8. ultramarine
9. Payne’s grey
10. seaside
11. purple
12. turquoise
13. Istanbul
14. Paris
15. Amsterdam
16. French Yeye
17. mayonnaise
18. 1960s kitchen sink drama films
19. Saabs
20. Beach huts
21. Donkeys
22. Round the Horne
23. Tony Hancock’s ‘The Rebel’
24. Vermont
25. Wallabies
26. Hessian
27. Smell of shoe shops
28. Kingfishers
29. Barn owls
30. Cornish coast
31. Old Disney
32. harpsichords
33. smell of coffee
34. ‘Roadrunner’ cartoons
35. pistachios
36. Toblerone
37. De La Warr pavillion
38. International Style architecture
39. Gard du Nore
40. Harbours
41. Eau Sauvage
42. Groucho Marx singing ‘Lydia the Tatooed Lady’
43. Singing (but away from other people !!)
44. Gooseberry & Elderflower Alder Carr Ice cream
45. Collecting sea shells
46. Charity shop ‘finds’
47. Old cameras
48. Old photographs
49. Hot water bottles
50. Builders Tea