Sunday 10 November 2013

Bodhran, going forward with the past.

My interest in the bodhran began in the winter of 1994. It was probably the most miserable period of my life. The first drum was a Christmas present from my family, I gratefully hung on to that small token of happiness.Locked myself in a corrugated iron shed in a blacksmiths yard,a filthy, freezing, hole of a place all I could find on leaving my family home. Learning to play helped to keep me warm, practiced twelve hours a day,  only lighting the fire before bedtime.
I had never heard of the bodhran. Little exposure to Irish music, I believe there was a boycott by the B.B.C.  There's only one stick, I wrestled with the mysterious object  till I got a sound that I could like.
Hovering around the sound space at a nursery rhyme level of drum music, I recalled memory of a music lesson at school, the teacher made what the class regarded in those none p.c.day's as an "Irish joke".
"A drum roll with one stick is only possible on an Irish drum."  The beater that came with the drum was a shoddy clumsy piece of abused firewood to my mind. I made a selection of experimental  designs, Shaped up some pretty bits of hardwood , "Form follows function." being my guiding maxim.
I had been impressed as a child by military bands, later by a school friend Michael Helliwell , who was studying orchestral percussion. Later still my interest in music exposed me to the drumming of Buddy Rich.  Sad facts that nothing was ever taught to us of the ethnic roots of drum music. What clues I had combined with instinct and a longing to make sense of the alien gift, caused a right royal racket to be heard from my little temporary hovel.A wondrous strange and exotic pleasure it was in those dark times.
March came around soon enough the weather brightened up, I ventured forth with drum in tow to try and make some good of the gift in the streets of Hereford. I liked the noise I was making but had no notion of wether or not I could play. It was St. Patrick's Day. 17th of March. Pubs throughout the town were bedecked with Shamrocks, Leprechauns and Guinness promotions.
I diligently played my new found drum tunes from early morning till late afternoon. Flailing stuff for the most part. Exhausting work, with little return.  97pence for my whole day's effort. Three Irish guys stopped for a chat. We laughed about the small change at my feet. "You're in the wrong country",sez one, "On this kind of money I would have to walk across the water," sez I.
They were building workers visiting a friend in a blacksmiths course and attending an international rugby match.
They invited me for a pint. I rarely do but it was hard to refuse. Bodhran under my arm we entered a likely looking pub,all bedecked in green for the day. The four of us weren't a yard into the bar when the landlord screamed , "No...Out..." The place was empty apart from us, and that's the way the landlord appeared to like it. A couple of the guys were livid, all we could do to usher them out to avoid a fight..We gave up on the idea of a quiet pint.
"Meet us on Sunday" they said, "At the station. You can't stay here." I didn't wholly believe they would keep the appointment, I must confess. Sunday came around,and there was I with my backpack and bodhran. As good as their word the two men paid my ticket to Ireland,then put the remainder of their Sterling currency in my hand bade me go to Galway.  Parting company I followed their advice.
A long bus ride to the west coast, I must have looked wretched, I felt it. Stepping off the bus I approached an old lady to ask directions to the town centre. The woman grabbed my wrist and stuffed a handful of coin into my hand, pushing my fingers closed around it. I was taken aback tried to explain that I merely wanted direction. A stern looking woman but not an unkindly face, still gripping my hand around the coins she had given,  she said, "Relax son,you're in Ireland now..."
Something in me melted, tears welled in my eyes, my throat was choking with emotion.
I found my way to Buttermilk Lane. Sat on my bag with water and some bread , just regaining my composure. A narrow lane with high walls, a good place to amuse my self with my drum whilst my meagre meal settled. It's a pedestrian  shortcut connecting two busy roads, a steady stream of tourists and shoppers strolled by, all undisturbed by either my presence or my drumming. An hour into my  practice had landed me a pile of coin at my feet. Enough to sponsor a couple of days in a cheap hostel and a good meal , with enough to  buy breakfast the next day.

It would take a mile or two of interminable scroll to record my Irish adventures on this blog, I will save the most part for another time. I have a sneaking suspicion that the adventures may not yet be done.
Five years playing the streets with occasional indoor sessions, had brought me no closer to knowing whether or not I was a competent player, until I met a Mr. Hurley in Charlestown, Mayo. I asked if he would do me the honour of listening  for a while. After going through everything I could remember, marching band, jigs, reels,wild Afro-Celt and jazz styles.  The gentleman , a well respected musician in his own right, told me,"Just keep doing what you're doing."  The pub crowd lit up with applause and cheers. I was chuffed. Confirmed for life.

My original drum I gave to a saddhu in India. He,a singer needed a rhythm section.  Since then I have occupied myself in other ways.
Living in France now, chanced upon a festival ,La Bogue D'or. in Redon, celebrating the chestnut harvest. Came across a band playing outside a music shop, La Chant d'alouette is the name. It is probably the best music shop I have ever visited. Definitely the best shopping experience to my memory. The cave downstairs housed a stash of several styles of bodhran. I parked myself on a stool and proceeded to check out the drums of my fancy. I met Jaquez the founder of the shop, and original owner. his family had lived above it since the 15th century. The shop is now a collective, Jaquez was just visiting. He offered a glass of wine , tasty old stuff, just the one. We chatted as I ratatatted on several instruments. He went upstairs and brought down a whistle. I was settling into a Walton's bodhran we played "Girl from Belfast city". Parting with the cash was a painless incidental.
The craic was good.
Committing myself to practicing once more. It was painful at first. The muscles needed reminding.
I tried the drum out in the Place de la Republique in La Poste. A good resonant sound space a pedestrian area. It's first real outing. The buzz was enormous. I will be doing more of that.
I haven't found a way to present my oobly doobly fluting  and my drumming together. I will work on it.
Recording drum  and flute whilst accompanying alternately on live instrument seems the logical way forward.  I am not unhappy  with current progress.
Below are four photos taken this Autumn. There will be a heap more nearer year end. I'll be back, I.Wazir.





Wednesday 2 October 2013

What earthly good ?....

 At first sight the isolated image of  our garden field with it's raised beds may give the impression of deep soil. The grass track where we walk looks lush by our attentions. Beneath the grass is hidden only three inches of mineral fines before encountering schiste rock. The beds are formed by scraping together all useful topsoil where it will prove most productive  and its condition improved.
This week we took delivery of three trailer loads of topsoil salvaged from a neighboring family's field, they are building a new facility on their farm and had to excavate the soil away to construct foundations. The soil depth  of the adjacent field newly stripped of maize is no more than a spade blade deep at the fence line where it meets our garden. It is pointless blaming the problem on erosion without addressing the cause. Last years water meter reading was 75 units, this years is 85 units. We mulch heavily on the areas producing crops but resources are too scarce to mulch all the field. We have allowed wild gasses and weeds to grow on ground awaiting more caring attention,occasionally pulling the cover up and laying the grass and weeds to dry on the surface.The token shade cover isn't really adequate but it helps. Those areas will have to stay thirsty till the rain comes.. A friend drove some twelve tonnes of large rocks to our home. We will use it to build a perimeter wall to retain the newly delivered soil. The raised soil level will then be topped with a variety of useful hedge plants. The  new ground thus created will be used to raise seedling trees until the haie matures. We will try to keep it looking pretty. The baby trees will be transferred to another site ,destination as yet unknown.
The first thing our friend observed was the fact that the maize field had been ploughed. To him , a local man it was evident from his own observation that the field was unfit for the purpose to which it had been put. The mixed grass and clover held the water level up , as soon as the surface was destroyed the water level dropped. The owner of the field had I understand asked that the ground be kept as pasture, he is retired and residing in a residential home now and it is believed that undue influence has been applied contrary to his good intensions. We bought our field with the understanding that the future of the meadow would with respect be in line with the owners wishes. It appears that tractor driven ignorance is being allowed to dominate the landscape here to no ones ultimate long term benefit, least of all to the long term viability of the soil, which spews seasonally into the ditches.
 Grass and clover no longer protect the surface of the worn out field. Zero care shown or voiced by the contract cowboys who pillaged the surface. Who is really to blame. The damage done.
Neighbour Joel dropped in for tea and a chat, he has land which he had once leased to a local farmer. The same farmer who sprayed us with weed killer a few years ago. Joel could see the negative impact the maize crop had  on the ground.  He blamed the government.  That pissed me off.
The responsibility for the land lies with the owners . It is by their allowance that the ground is  abused. The duty, surely of all proprietors to oversee and encourage good husbandry and durable land management. Turning a blind eye to opportunist asset strippers for short term cash benefit is not good cultivation  or conciergie by any moral definition, English or French.
The new haie may not improve the adjacent field , when mature it will proved a barrier against cold north easterly winds and provide a small degree of protection from the over spray from the tenant farmers reckless methods. Not a lot, but every little helps.
It will take more than a few words on the internet's oblivion zone to focus hearts and minds on better ways forward. We are gradually collecting useful information  and lobbying local people concerned about the evident degradation. There are statutory guidelines and regulations , the ignorance of which could land both owners and tenant leaseholders with severe penalty.;We hope that our agitating would be enough to
 bring to  awareness the long overdue need  for reform in land management practices,  voluntary initiatives by owners and tenants alike are vital  to repair the damage their shortsighted methods have created.  They profess that they care,the evident harm they do against the intended meaning of the regulatory statutes  lends the lie to their self righteous posturing.
Having been sprayed with herbicide and showered with fertilizer, as well as having to pay more for water all unnecessary nuisance and toxic hazard against our right of peace and tranquility, and the risk to the viability of our subsistence economy, all complaint so far ignored. We find ourselves humored or ignored. Our little field of responsibility is one of the smallest in the region, a speck hardly noticeable on a Google map. Some bigoted attitudes are entrenched locally that "getting rid" of us would be the most desirable solution. Our complaint is irritating to the poor darlings who take their cut of the cash and silently ignore. It isn't the Government's fault, but it may be time for draconian penalties to be imposed to deter further destruction.
Joel didn't enjoy my view that he is responsible for the knackered condition of land when it was returned to him. He ignored the abusive methods employed until bad practice caused the tenant to be declared bankrupt.
Our modest efforts in this little patch are not tractor powered. We are establishing our permaculture on land that was driven to the edge of extinction. It's slow as progress goes, but our investment of labour and resource is showing good results. We search for another field in which to expand our vision of a better world.
So why do I write here. It would take too long to learn a level of French that would equal my articulation of my first language. I record my view in English. That will then be translated and printed in French.  Anne-Sophie will articulate our commonly held view to locals  with the hope that we may generate effective solution to the ever growing environmental problems brought about by bad agricultural practice. Heaven only knows how effective our efforts will be.
The peaches are very small this year due to a shortage of water. I am off out now to pick the rest of them.  The flavor is divine. Happen I will shift a bit of the soil whilst I am at it. More soon from Le Breil,Campel 35330.






Saturday 28 September 2013

A rear guard action in defense of the rural heartland...

 The harvest machines have just asset stripped the adjacent field. Read the article here Feb 22 2009, "New season old issue". 20% more maze this year than last.we are told. Topsoil fines continue to spill into ditches and watercourses. toxic unsafe practice against the long term  of both the terrestrial hinterland, the ecology or sensitivity to the health and economy of fellow residents. Agribusiness interests seem to have obliterated any sensitivity to common rights.The aggressive over exploitation of out dated subsidy rules has led to a rush to" get it while we can". Whether by accident or design they eagerly dip their bread in the soup of corruption. Barely legal, doesn't make something morally right. Folk often form defensive attitudes in apology for not venturing beyond the historic habits of convenience. "Leave that the master isn't looking. Do this, there's a few bob in it for you. Nod,nod,Wink, wink. Say no more. Nods as good as a wink to a blind horse.Say nothing youth, dip your bread, we do. "
So the moral laxity is congenitally ingrained in the next generation at the home table or sitting next to dad in his tractor cab.
We have taken many photograph's yet to be collated, with maps and analysis of the demographic distribution of grant subsidies.An audit of minimum standard, exposing both worst and best or better practice. Duty of care of the common heritage  is an obligation that overrides financial considerations. The  legacy to the future may become a debt ridden desert.
We had a water crisis this year. the meadow grass was ploughed too late in the season, after the major rain  and frost had ended. the water level in the ridge dropped drastically, our garden panicked. The humidity was being sucked from below as the water evaporated and transpired in the growing maze field. It has been expensive on tap water this year in spite of heavy mulching. The  maze field has now been stripped. The bare earth allowed to bake in the sun. We have no choice but to pay our water bills to keep the kitchen garden alive. The potager is the mainstay of our domestic subsistence economy, we can't allow subsidised profiteering   to undermine that. "Corruption", covers a multitude of sins.Posing the question "why has it been allowed to get so bad?" leads one to some discomforting answers.A blind eye has apparently been turned on bad practice on the nod for years, c'est normal. Margins and regulatory codes of practice are being ignored. The Marie appears to silently condone by neglect obvious short comings in the local farming community.In 2009 we were sprayed with weed killer. This year dusted with white powder. the Round up spray killed all the grass in the meadow, to within inches of our garden. The grass died only to be replaced by Fat hen. The grass had acted as a weed suppressant. At one point the farmer claimed he had sown grass seed as a margin , no evidence exists that any such thing happened , he lied. There was maze where he said grass was sown.Seed sown within feet of major oaks, beneath their shading branches in fact,wasted. The farmer who sprayed us with weed killer in 2009 was/is a member of the local council . Representations were made in complaint to the Marie, as yet no reasonable recorded response.  This years assault was committed by a farmer whose wife I am told is also a member of the council. It would be a shame if we have to go to the extreme of an audit of service.Where does the buck stop.the complacent attitude of the mayor "there is nothing I can do or say about  it" suggests that the members of the council and the office of Mayor are failing in their sworn duty to represent the  common interests and rights of all constituent members of the commune,impartially not least is  the Marie's duty to ensure it's members are cognizant of the responsibilities within the privilege of their term of office.
At present we are collecting information from the publicly available records. The implication that the Marie may be indictable  has been voiced by other locals not well pleased,  If all members close ranks it will be evident that all individuals would be rendered, culpable of bringing the good offices of the Marie into disrepute.
 The fact that a farmer had to incorporate lies  to bolster spurious excuses and argument in denial of evident truth, is indicative of fraudulent posturing, i.e. Criminal cover up. At it's most benign, the evident lies may be symptomatic of a congenital illness. Who knows? We don't lie.
 There is much in this region that is worthy of promotion, the good news is upstaged  by the dominant personality of the asset strippers.
Small scale Biologic milk production fed on integrated meadowland. Healthy cows healthy milk and healthy land, no collateral damage. Bread makers who grow their own grain and bake in wood fired ovens.  a local biologic market garden is thriving  without unholy compromise.
 An effort is being made to create a representative association, the individual voice too easily ignored. Many new people have moved to the bourg and it's hinterland. From talking to folk we are confident there would be enough of a groundswell of support of closer environmental monitoring,promoting a more progressive and sensitive long term land management.
Three farms here abouts received 100,000 euros in subsidy this year alone, it will be interesting to see what the greater electorate will get for their money. I'm sure it won't be all bad, we prepare however to be disappointed.Hopes are frequently dashed,in whom may we trust to raise and uphold the higher ethical standard of integrated rural progress?Farmers are subscribing to methods of agriculture that by their neglect, treats La Belle France as a bitch whore.  Barely legal wholly immoral.
If grants are to be paid to subsidise farms , whether rented or owned, they should be conditionally proportionate to the degree of conciergerie. Trees need to be grown and planted, woodland managed, hedges reinstated. Farmers need to learn to contain their own ground water. At present the road gullies are being swamped with the spillage of the fertile mineral fines on the surface. Some over worked farm lands need to retire from commercial exploitation. Small change such as contour ploughing would reduce the rate of surface erosion.Dedicated respect to optimum margins . Topsoil is at present being washed down the river.
May I have it all wrong, looking at the shagged out field next door is all I need to confirm my resistant opposition to the subsidize agribusiness here about.
We are searching with a view to buy a small field in this region in the hope that we may establish economic family gardens and a tree nursery.
 Fruit harvest has been heavy this year. Buckets of cassis and  white currants. The late crop of raspberries was poor as a result of the water shortage. Last years kale has self seeded , We have enough carrots and many kilos of coco beans in store. The onions and shallots are dry, they look good keepers. Tonnes of good stuff, too much to write about. Two patch of leeks seem happy enough. The tool chest is growing,  We move forward slowly, we aren't grant aided. Enough o' this, I will get back to you soon. I.Wazir.












Thursday 29 August 2013

Small World economics???

 Dear Toby, your last year's reportage of time spent at the Small World event, was no encouragement for me to accept your invitation to this years summer festival. Phrases like "new, evolved" "low impact","deep in the GreenField" , may serve as useful marketing slogans.  The cost of a ticket for low waged has increased near enough fifteen percent in one year. Sod all "Green" about the price. Sustainable progress is little evident. Did the Social security handout increase by fifteen percent this year? The prospect of busking at the festival didn't inspire me. I have done a bit of that  over the years , I couldn't smile much about it then, with my present unwaged status,no state sponsorship,I would have been a mug to accept the invitation. The expense of the traveling from France at a moments notice combined with the cost of my food would have amounted to several hundred pounds, with the seventy pound ticket on top, hardly an incentive to deprive the place that needs the money most, home. The "party people" will have to live without my endorsement or my cash.
A "Ragged Man Last Gasp Tour" of Britain  is on the cards heaven only knows when. My street music  gets aired on occasion in Rennes, the difference between London and Rennes being, I get less hassle and personal abuse and I get to enjoy the austere comfort of my home when I've done. I practice most days, the kitchen being my most favored venue.  Chances are there will be one C.D. at least  with a pile of words and images, I muddle my way through the technical difficulties. Theres a lot of heavy work to be done before then, perhaps when it's over I will have cause for a modest "green" celebration. At home.
Responding to your past invitations has left a bitter taste, disappointment being the most enduring factor. If you want to see me smiling son you had best put yourself into context, mine. Relate before it's too late. I have wasted far too much time and energy at cost to my health, chasing after you. You know where I live.

Wednesday 31 July 2013

July 31 2013

You'll not see much of our personal progress here. Facility is being upgraded. Awaiting the arrival of tonnes of stone.  Tonnes of topsoil piled in Emile's yard. The Home/Field /House project is still on track, we continue to search for a land that would accommodate our need to expand.
The garden is glorious, no cause to regret my "eccentric" ground plan. I am posting no photos. Get of your backside and see the real thing for yourself.The blog is a dead loss, it will get modified over time. It doesn't make the physical work easier. The woodworking department continues to improve but the workshop is still a well nurtured dream.  Eighteen years behind schedule, better late than never. I continue to blow my oobly doobly tunes,it's rare that anyone hears,"More's the pity, " sez I . (Just my worthless opinion). That's enough of this, I will get back to you when work permits.
Happy Birthday.