Foolery. Foolhardy. Thoughts on a wet, cold Sunday afternoon.

 We have a saying in Italian, one that I've used many times lately, "La mamma degli imbecilli è sempre incinta."

I've just read TC's latest post HERE and, if my saying ever needed support, here it is!

Some believe that God and Jesus are here to help. When they don't seem to give a shit (think the Covid pandemic, for example), we're told that they work in mysterious ways. That seems to me like having a bet both ways. The thoughts / solutions of imbeciles?

Anyway, the problem is really to stop silly people following the words of imbeciles. What is needed is a practical solution, based on common sense, that gives the best possible outcome for all people. We don't need to have some people with incredible amounts of money and power. It certainly doesn't help to have people shooting each other - let's not even think of giving their children guns. Scientific style reason and empathy are our best ways forward. I guess that the trouble is that imbeciles will have completely different, whacky ideas. The problem is that the mother of imbeciles is always pregnant.

Ciao tutti.

Tough luck for Tom.

 Tom sat at his computer. He was aware of the sound of rain.

"Rain only has a sound when it touches something else." he thought. What Tom was really hearing was the solidness of the things that the rain was crashing into. 

It was Saturday morning, quite early really, and Tom was the only person in his house who was not asleep. His first job, on exiting bed, had been to turn a heater on. His second job involved the room that contained four taps and a thing that you were expected to flush after use. 

Tom organised his thoughts as best he could. He checked a blog site for any updates. There was the same post. Short, but then the author had copied all the words from a song. Tom had skimmed through and got the main idea. He figured it was about life being hard. 

Close to his computer there was a music stand.

A folder of music had been left on it. It was open at pages 3 and 4. There was no clear indication why these two pages should be exposed. The music used a treble clef - it could have been intended for a variety of instruments. There were lots of black dots, which probably gave an interested bystander a little more indication of what type of music was in his sight line. Though, only a musician would have spent more time trying to decipher its intent.

Next to the music stand, well within the distance of a metre, sat a white machine. This machine was attracting Tom's attention today. This room, and the one beside it, fitted well  into the description 'cluttered'.

Tom felt aware that there was definitely no room to put a grand piano in either of these rooms.

He guessed that it would be a stretch to fit in even a violoncello, or something a bit bigger. Then his thoughts went back to the white machine. 

In one instant it provided both a solution and a problem. Tom knew that there was a space where it should be, but the problem was getting it there, and that wouldn't be happening in the next few days. Tough luck for the grand piano. Tough luck for Tom.

Of duty.

 No, that title isn't the sort of grammatical mistake you'll frequently see on Peter's and Robert's blogs. I'm not trying to inform readers that I'm off duty, rather I'm considering what duty means.

Thursday 28th July, 9.10am.

Richard (of RBB) has just tried to settle a rather frisky bunch of adolescents when his phone rings, not once, but twice and in quick succession. He has no choice but to answer it.

Hi, I'm teaching at present. Who is it?

"This is Noel Leeming (probably not the actual man). We'll be delivering your dryer tomorrow. We'll need you to be home. Our man can help you get the old dryer down but he can't help you get the new dryer up."

"Yes, they told me that in the store. Can he come after 2.15pm tomorrow because I'll be at work before that?"

"No, he'll ring between 8 and 9 to tell you what time he'll be in Nuova Lazio. Will you be home?"

"I guess I'll have to be."

So, what's all this got to do with duty? Well, to be precise,  it's more about good customer service. You see, if I hadn't already paid for the bloody dryer, I would have told Noel (I'm sure it's not the real Noel) to get lost and keep the bloody thing. 

"It must be hard for Noel to have a presence 
in all of his stores. He must be driving
all day!" said the passing man to his wife.

Okay, it's all about health and safety, but wouldn't it be easier for two young and fit delivery men to put a dryer up (on the wall) than a chap who is touching 70? How do little old ladies get on when their dryer arrives and they need it on the wall? 

Actually, getting a dryer where you can use it - which requires a bit of assembly work - is actually the hardest part of buying one, supposing that you can afford it. Also, some people couldn't afford to take an unpaid day off work, as I have done. 

I suppose that this 'do it yourself' approach is the policy with all retail stores that sell big things like dryers that often have to go on the wall. Though they still charge you for every little thing that they do. When you see an item on the showroom floor, don't make the mistake of thinking that is what you'll pay.

Let the buyer beware and be strong enough to lift the bloody thing and know how to put the hooks on and assemble the venting unit that didn't come with the machine.

Ciao tutti.

A message to The Curmudgeon who is being 'a bit of a bitch'.

 

This much older guy is 'a bit of a bitch'.

Ciao tutti.

That's it, but just for this morning... a special post for The Curmudgeon.

 Back to NLHS for a second day. Violin teaching tomorrow.

Another cold and wet day. Windy too.

I've been pushing my bass practice over the last couple of days.

That's it.

Ciao tutti.

The Great Flood - before and after.

 A study in pictures.

BEFORE.

AFTER.

Our planned farewell ceremony to Uncle Steve was a wash out and, instead of seeing him off, we concentrated our efforts on cleaning up the flood. Fortunately Steve's old friend Ian knew all about engineering and the pumping system on the property (which I didn't know about). What a guy! We were also saved by our two children Steph and George who did a wonderful clean up. What kids we have! 

It's back to work for me tomorrow. Easier work than cutting back huge blackberry bushes.

This is a toilet we rented for over $400
and only one person got to use it - an expensive dump!

Stop press: Robert and Sue both have Covid but, so far, seem to be surviving. Great news! I'm taking them toilet paper tomorrow. They said they wouldn't need the portaloo. Get well guys.

Ciao tutti.

When's Wednesday?

 The rain insists on sticking around

To make more puddles on the ground.

The Irish won and went away.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

The NZRU is upset,

Investors haven't made much money yet.

They say the boys have let them down.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

Catholics like to blame the devil but

Money is the root of all evil.

The poor old All Blacks did their best.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

Luxury once was bread and honey

Now it's having too much money.

You can't spend it when you're dead.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

On this morning, how's it goin'?

Okay, I'm just writing this poem.

Now the wind has stopped its blowin'.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

We don't dry our clothes anymore

They're in a basket on the floor.

Because our dryer isn't okay.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

Our mechanic's name is Ray di Ator

He said we need a new alligator.

I only said that for the rhyme.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

Is there such a thing as winter fever?

I don't want this poem to go on forever.

It's time to have a violin play.

When's Wednesday?

It's today.

* * *

Okay, everyone loves a good poem.

TC will leave a comment saying, "And this isn't it."

The old chap is pretty predictable.

He sure won't take my comment lying down.

Ah, well, thinking up a humerous reply will keep him busy and help keep his mind off Mike the right wing tennis player.

It's still pissing down here. I think I might be lazy for an hour. I'm stuck at home with no car because my daughter's car needs a new radiator and she has mine. My big task today is how to get the washing dry. Our clothes dryer has died and the replacement won't arrive until much later next week. I've been using a laundromat but can't get there without a car. Such is life. 

Ciao tutti.

Headin' back to Himatangi.

Violin practice must be done

I'll keep going on Paganini,

Then Thursday the fiddle goes into the car,

I'm heading back to Himatangi.

Always start you practice slowly

Think tone, tuning and arpeggi,

Do as much while you're at home

Before heading up to Himatangi.

I've chosen pieces for the gig

And will practise them in a lump

When the portaloo arrives I can have a dump

That'll be up in Himatangi.

Okay, before you start moaning and whining, it's pretty hard to find things to rhyme with Himatangi. The only thing I could think of was the name Rangi. It's even harder to find things to do there if you haven't got a pottery to tidy up.

Anyway, that's where we'll be until Sunday. We won't be sleeping at the pottery - we have a motel in Palmy.

On Saturday we have a ceremony for Uncle Steve and my new band 'the July Guys trio' will provide music for the occasion. 

Well, I'd better be off because there is practice, and other things, to do.

Ciao tutti.

The Curmudgeon's posting is at an all time low.

 Forget the All Blacks losing. If you want cheering up about how bad things can be, just go and read The Curmudgeon's last few posts. Use our LINKS service to find it.

The Curmudgeon in better days.

Does anybody care that he once owned this car?

I don't think so.

What did he pay for it?

I don't know.

The question is...

What's going on over there in Curmudgeonland?

Think of an empty box.

That's what is going on.

Sweet fuck all.

I guess it's good to Robert's dress up blog.

Robert's ratings have surpassed those of The Curmudgeon to the point where Robert is only a few light years away from catching up to Richard's Bass Bag.*

Don't hold your breath, I guess.

* the original bass bagging site

Catholic Apologist Evil Doctor Richard teaches some not so bright bloggers a simple message.

 

"Good morning. Firstly please let me apologize for the awful wrongdoings of Fathers Minto and Durning. What a couple of tossers!

I read and enjoyed Richard (of RBB)'s last post. He made a very good point that seemed to be missed by the bloggers Peter and Robert.

Peter

Robert

Richard (of RBB) made an interesting point but, for some reason, these two old buggers bloggers just didn't get it.

Let me explain in simple language.

With no big words.

Anti-abortionists, led by old white men who often have lots and lots of money and can get what they want and often believe in stupid ideas like praying the chaplet, say that all abortions are murder of an unborn child. There is no room for looking at individual cases. The rules are different for post-birth people. When one person kills another, various results are possible and permitted; and happen. 

These results include:

• murder
• manslaughter
• self defence
• accident

I'm sure there are other results too.

It doesn't take a mind capable of big words to see that women may want/need abortions for a variety of reasons. This was the simple lesson contained in Richard (of RBB)'s story in his last post.

I hope that clears things up for some of the dimwits readers around here."

Acromagnusly gigantatious words keep rolling out on the blogs.

"What aprodigiosum is Peter writing today, I thought as I..." said Robert in a comment on Peter's blog.

Why couldn't he just have said, "What accusations is Peter writing today..."?

Language is about communication. Do people use big, obscure words to make them look smart?

Okay, I admit that I had to look this word up to see what the fuck Robert was talking about.

I think some people use big, obscure words to baffle an opponent in an argument.

In the above comment Robert was talking about abortion. He left a comment on Richard's Bass Bag* that said, "You look like a man that knows a lot of things. Can I ask you if the right for a mother to kill the baby in her womb is written into the USA constitution. Peter and I are squabbling over this.
That "Toi toi pinot gris" is very nice."

The Toi Toi pinot gris might have tasted nice but it did have the side effect of quelling the big words. Good stuff, that pinot, no matter what Peter says.

I wonder if this stuff quells 
big words too?

Like all Catholics, Robert says that abortion is murder. This is a hurtful statement that sweeps away everything with the same broom. I say it is hurtful because it doesn't take into account everyone's circumstances. Here's a little story...

John had just finished a busy day and was contemplating an early night because he was quite tired. 

John

John had been erecting a metal shelving unit with the aid of his rubber mallet. 

John lived with his wife but was a happy man today because he had his young grandson Brett staying the night. The five year old boy had been very interested in the job John was doing and grandad had showed him how to hold the tools and how to use the mallet. It was a sturdy, heavy tool, so John showed the boy how to be very careful with it. 

As Brett was happily playing in his bedroom, John decided it was a good time to take his tools out to his workshop. From near his shed he could see his wife out by the letterbox. She was being pushed around by two young thugs who had come onto their property. When I say young, these were big guys in about their twenties. They were shouting obscenities at her and demanding money. They seemed to be high on something. Fortunately John had read all the Jack Reacher books and knew how to fight with a hammer. He dropped all his other tools but kept the mallet and moved quickly towards his wife. She was now on the ground and one thug was kicking her. 

John had no time to think, he just acted. He moved in closely, the thugs didn't seem to notice him at first, and he rammed the mallet twice, and as hard as he could, into the first thug's face. John was aware of him going down. He quickly swung the mallet and caught the second thug on the shoulder. It obviously hurt. He quickly rammed his weapon into this guy's gut. He was in pain and he sort of limped off in a half run. He disappeared down the road. 

The guy on the ground was still. His thug days were over. In fact, all his days were over. John helped his wife up and called the police. For some strange reason, John thought of women in some states of the USA who were unable to get an abortion in some desperate situations. He looked at his mallet, which was still in his right hand, and thought about how lucky he had been that day. 

* the original bass bagging site

Best to know your place boys.

 Peter or Robert could never be this cool!

Return to Himatangi.

 

There's not a lot to do at Himatangi Junction if one is looking for a good time. In fact, the word the locals use is 'nothing'.

Richard (of RBB) was not there to see the sights, or to sit in a bar, or to see a movie, or to visit fancy restaurants, or to go sky diving. He was there to clean the pottery. This had become a regular event for the much admired blogger. Though out here no one even knew his name or the fact that, in Nuova Lazio, there was a park named after him. No, up in Himatangi he was just another stranger with a pottery to clean.

He'd bought a new tool to attack the grass - a fancy weedeater with a blade thingy on one end. He had thought of The Curmudgeon when he realized that this was a tool that needed assembling. He wondered why these things couldn't be sold in one bit. Was their assembly some sort of test?

"It must be that Part C goes into 
Part D but, hang on, that would
mean that we don't really need
Part E."

Now he needed the weather to hold. He certainly didn't need heavy rain while he was attempting to cut thick grass. That's for damn sure. 

He'd stay a night in Palmy. Foxton was much closer - a sort of bigger version of  'the junction' with a cold hotel, their own brand of fizz, no restaurants and a windmill. Palmy meant a longer drive at the end of the day but, really, it was no contest. Not if you wanted to eat proper food and sleep in a warm bed.

Not that long ago Foxton had promoted itself as 'New Zealand's fox town'. There was a picture, at each end of town, with a happy looking cartoon fox on it. Whoever came up with the idea was driven out of town and the good folk of Foxton built a windmill.

They opened a cafe nearby and called it The Dutch Oven. Someone else was driven out of town and the cafe was renamed when it was pointed out, by someone passing through town, that 'dutch oven' was a phrase used to describe farting in bed.

No one really knows why Foxton went all Dutch. Maybe it was just the furthest thing away from the 'fox town' idea?

It would seem that Himatangi has steered away from such blunders, but the reality is that Himatangi simply has nothing at all to offer.

Still, both places have been good for the hotel and motel industry in Palmy.

Okay, I have things to do, things to pack - a machine to assemble.

Ciao tutti.

Being coach of the All Blacks is a tough job.

 

I just watched Ian Foster being interviewed after last Saturday's game. My feeling was, "Poor bugger. He's obviously trying his very best but things certainly don't always go his way."

Sport is about winning and losing. One can have the same feeling when playing music. That feeling that you're not Mr. Popular. I'm sure it happens to TC when he's playing golf - I know the guys in golf buggies upset him. He moans about some people at tennis too. Maybe TC's just what my mother used to call 'a bloody old moaner'? Well, he certainly is older than the rest of us around here. He confirmed that when he told us he was watching us.

"I'm watching you."

Okay, Robert is pretty successful on his violin but maybe toilet cleaning can be tough for him? Brushing off someone else's skid marks takes a bit of 'get up and go' afterall.

"I like to wear a crown when
I'm cleaning a throne."

Maybe we need to go easy on the All Black coach? I'm sure the boys will agree because I know they both love watching rugby. I saw a photo of Robert with a rainbow flag - that means he supports all teams. Peter is so keen on sport that he even played football at school. That's stepping out of the bubble! Though most of those kids in the football team (there was probably only one) were missing a leg or blind - you had to have a medical certificate to play soccer (as they called it) when I was at Marist Thorndon. 

Let's see if we get any comments.

Ciao tutti.

Home is the sailor, home from the pottery.

 

So, I hate the way everyone seems to start a sentence with 'so' these days, we have returned from Himatangi but will return on Thursday. My next job is to try to cut all the grass. Today I will buy the biggest, most robust weedeater  I can find. The grass is thick with runner things all through it.

Something like this.

This will not be an easy job.

Shelley has been very generous in letting people take stuff - she even hid some keys for a couple of people to use, which they have. Unfortunately things have got out of hand. I suspect that one person has spread the word to their wider family. Maybe the wider family spread the word too? 

Someone took the door off a little brick 'shed'. That's right, they took the door belonging to one of the structures on the property! Another person left a note saying they plan to take a gate from around the back of the property. 

Enough!

I took the hidden keys and left a note to leave the gate where it is. I'm also trying to work out who took the door. This is called taking advantage. We're trying to make the place look nice, and it's a lot of hard work, and expense, in Steve's memory. I suspect that some other people are just trying to get things to sell.

In just under two weeks we will have a remembrance ceremony. I have put together a trio for the event. Daryl, my brother and guitarist, asked me what the trio will be called. I told him that it will be called The July Guys Trio. Well, it IS July. George is on bass.

That's it from me. I need to do some practice and buy a huge weedeater.

Ciao tutti. 

Great photos from Robert!

 

Richard (of RBB) trying to
look cool outside 'the shed'.
While it was a good place to
secretly smoke cigarettes, he
never got a girlfriend, which
was his main aim in life.

Bob, leader of 'the boys'. He taught
them more than any school ever did.
He taught the importance of cooking 
and having a few beers while you did it.

Chris got the 1960s folk look pretty

right but unfortunately Richard (of RBB)

completely got it wrong and had to wait

many years to even get to talk to a girl.

Well, there you have it, the 1960s in Garden Road, Wellington.

Ciao tutti.

Let's hope there's no bowdlerisation needed for this post!

 

Men performing bowdlerisation on a boulder.

Nay, but seriously folks...

Here's a tip for practising. Don't practise playing mistakes, practise getting it right.

Sometimes, when we've made mistakes many times in our practice, we get it right once or twice and then we stop. Okay, think about it, you 'practised' getting it wrong countless times and then you got it right once, so you play it one more time and then you bugger off to write a post, or drink a Cleanskin, or have dinner, or play on your phone.

76 times wrong - 2 times right.

It's not exactly rocket science!

The trick is to practise it more times the right way.

No need for thanks, though a comment can be nice, except when it's from some know all.

Ciao tutti.

What's this?

 Okay, I got a comment on my last blog that criticizes me on a few levels.

This is all about my post on learning to play Paganini's 24th Caprice.  The variation I advised my young friend about, and Robert accuses me of misleading him, was Variation 1. Robert (the quite a few different things) posted a video, a little while back, of himself attempting to play the first four bars. It was grossly out of tune - he even got his major and minor intervals in the arpeggios confused. Obviously studying the other caprices hadn't worked for him! Robert (the quite a few different things) is certainly not on his way to preparing a successful performance of this piece. In Paganini's idea of 'the one scale on the violin' there are only four octave fingerings available on the violin for a major scale. This piece of news is actually an undebatable fact. In fact, there are are only 7 possible fingerings that major, Dorian minor, natural minor, dominant 7th, Locrian and two other scales (also referred to as modes) are made up of. Okay, I admit that this one scale doesn't lay out all the notes for a chromatic scale, a diminished scale or, say, a diminished whole tone scale. There are other altered scales that require finger adjustments but the basic principle still applies.

So, if there are only four major fingerings when moving across the fingerboard, this makes the rule that there only four arpeggio fingerings when moving across the fingerboard - 1 3 1 4,  2 4 2 1,  3 1 3 2,  4 2 4 3 (this obviously doesn't account for stretched fingerings). When moving up the fingerboard, options will be largely controlled by what position the arpeggio is in (root position 1 3 5, first inversion 3 5 1, or second inversion 5 1 3). Obviously, the same applies to minor arpeggios. 

Okay, if you're taking notes, this means that (outside of stretching to a 'harder to get' note) there are 7 arpeggio fingerings to choose from. I didn't need the other 23 caprices to figure that out! Instead I used logic, based on nearly 62 years of studying (yes, studying) music.

Let's look at the arpeggio in the first bar of Variation 1 (above). I have four fingers to choose for playing the first note (A). Finger 1 on the E string is a good choice because, with a little stretch, I can use a fingering of 1 3 4 to grab the first three notes and and then head back down again - five notes done! The last three are easy in 1st position, and I have an open E to set me up. I could also possibly go for the A up on the A string and use 3 1 3. I guess I could do the same thing using 4 2 4. I can't see much sense in starting on the second finger, but maybe it works for you?

Hey, once you've sorted out your fingerings, you've got to play over these things many, many, many times. There is no shortcut that I know of and Robert's video attempt to play this variation seems to prove that beyond a doubt.

I'm going to leave it there for tonight. Maybe next time I'll talk about Paganini's one position on the violin? There again, maybe I'll keep it to myself and let you listen to advice from chaps like Robert.

Ciao tutti.