Not in the usual work sense, but because a radiator somehow sprung a leak.
My short term fix used that stretchy self amalgamating tape. It helped whilst I waited for the plumber, but for a while the living room began to resemble the inside of a whale.
We are two mariners
Our ship's sole survivors
In this belly of a whale
It's ribs are ceiling beams
It's guts are carpeting
I guess we have some time to kill
It reminded me of a recent conversation about choosing one Decemberist song to use in a "best-of" list.
The Mariner's Revenge Song had been short-listed; my own choice was Chinese Acrobat, but I think we settled on the excellent Bagman's Gambit.
The knowledgeable plumber agreed as he tightened the errant lock-nut.
By now the lounge is back to normal, aside from a tropical ambience whilst the carpet dries. No mariner's revenge, so instead here's Colin Meloy singing 'We both go down together', in an elevator.
It's Easter and we're having a bit of a family day today. I expect the talk will include whether to run off to join a circus, and when we can expect the press to stop hounding one of us. The Parisienne poetry discussions can wait although it all reminds me of that Colin Meloy song and a lovely picture from the twostorysketchbook.
My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist in pre-war Paris smuggling bombs for the underground.
And she met my father at a fete in Aix-en-Provence. He was disguised as a Russian cadet in the employ of the Axis.
And there in the half-light of the provincial midnight to a lone concertina they drank in cantinas and toasted to Edith Piaf and the fall of the Reich.
My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy and left for the cattle but later was found by a communist who'd deserted his ranks to follow his dream to start up a punk rock band in South Carolina.
I get letters sometimes.
They bought a plantation she weeds the tobacco, he offends the nation and they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear."
"Sincerely, your sister."
So my parents had me to the disgust of the prostitutes on a bed in a brothel. Surprisingly raised with tender care 'til the money got tight and they bet me away to a blind brigadier in a game of high stakes canasta.
But he made me a sailor on his brigadier ship fleet. I know every yardarm from main mast to jib sheet. But sometimes I long to be landlocked and to work in a bakery.
There was much confusion on the way to the Decemberist's gig. It could have been from their own lyrics:
And remember how you found the key To the hide-out in the Pyrenees But you wanted to keep the secret safe So you threw the key away.
I'd arrived at the agreed meeting place early, with a key to let myself in to wait. Except it didn't work.
So I headed for the river for to wait a while for liberation stars for a roof above my head shining
Except, when my liberator finally arrived on the 137 bus, she too was keyless. Much scuffling as we waited for others to appear from the public transport system. And finally, we were able to let ourselves in, to retrieve the tickets to the gig at the Coronet.
"Taxi"
Elephant and Castle. Tunnels. Fast moving line. Metal detectors. Corridor. Sharp Left. Bar. Murphy's.
And then to take position. We had plenty of time whilst Pink Floyd's albatross was hanging motionless upon the air. I seemed to be the only one that knew the track. Meddle. Echoes.
Then a shimmy to the side and we took position for the band.
Who opened with the entire Hazards of Love album, played non stop, as one piece, complete with multiple instrument changes and all manner of swapping around on the stage.
Amazing- a complete tour-de-force. Energetically played, a kind of modernist folk story. I've heard the album many times, but as a piece played live it seemed to really come together. We all thought the same; as we sipped drinks before the second half, we chatted about how much more defined the story was for seeing it in a live performance.
Similarly the textures, from quiet mandolins and acoustic guitars, to all out whammy bar chunks of air power chords. And a great mixture of front man Colin Meloy and the rest of the band including the extra singers providing a yin and yang of styles.
Part 2. We decided to be right at the front for part 2, which meant getting a wriggle on. We abandoned middling and used the old RHS technique to get to the very front and struck suitable seafaring poses in preparation for a second half. Which turned out to be a sort of greatest hits section, complete with good crowd conducting and the appearance and disappearance at various stages of an inflatable whale brought by some of the onlookers.
I managed to catch a small video snippet from the guitar and hurdy-gurdy of Eli the Barrow Boy
It worked though, because the band decided to play Mariner's Revenge in this section, which is seldom heard live on these fair shores.
We all screamed in the right place and could have become plankton, although fortunately we'd all prepared suitable gig names in advance so I think I became an idler roustabout.
So what do I think? They are excellent fun as a band- I'm not sure they quite knew where they were....East London seemed to be the stage consensus, but we all know it was down sarf.
I've listened to them for years and love their lyrics which create entire often edgy novel plots in a few sentences. Their front man Colin keeps a sparkle in his eyes as they perform and their whole band energy and counterpoints are quite infectious.
Tonight they are on Jools Holland performing a small piece from The Hazards of Love - during which they all beat drums. Just remember they all play dozens of instruments. Demand a full showing of a concert on our television. And they played sixteen military wives.
From yesterday's post - with Debra - who used to live in Amsterdam and has just returned from Portland, Oregon
To today, with a post of Colin Meloy from Portland, Oregon, performing a song in an elevator in Amsterdam.
To tomorrow, when I'll be somewhere in London seeing Colin and the rest of the Decemberists teaching about the Hazards of Love and other important things.
