The Old Lucinda is Back...

She took this picture of me about 10 minutes ago... I want you to see what she is doing to me...

To you it may not look like much... I mean I'm in fancy dress... its Halloween... I'm going to Russell's party.

Great. That's just great isn't it?

Drinks... friends... dancing... fun.

Great.

I do not want to go.

Thanks.

But I have to... oh yes I do.

Because... because Lucinda says I have to...

"Josh will be there."

Wooopey f'ing do. Great... Josh... so you two can go ff and have one of your secret squirrel conversations and I can sit here dressed as a twat getting drunk and regretting even lifting my head off the pillow.

I don't want to go.

I mean - I've got better things to do...

... if only I could remember what they are.

Ego has taken Lego Man off to sea in a fishing boat...

... and left me with £3,000 which is pretty nice considering... well considering that my man Josh had said I would only be getting a grand... which makes me suspect.

Anyway's a found out why he wanted it to be hollow...

He turned up by Taxi, gave me some money and then asked if I could do him one small favour. ... so, we shifted the figure into the back of my van and I drove him to the Marina.

There we were met by two weather beathen men in their 40s and a youngish woman with a clipboard who gave off the air of being someone's PA. They put Lego on a trolley and pushed him away while Ego and I walked down to the boats.

"What are you going to do with him?" "Float him. Float him so that people may dream." "Ah-ha" "I write on him, well the girl she will put writing on him, a message to whoever finds him." "Oh". "No Real Than You Are" "What?" "No Real Than You Are" (he's a little annoyed by having to repeat himself) "Doesn't make sense." "Does life?"

"No"

And they take the Lego Man away from me, they put him onto a boat and take him away.

Ego holds me by my shoulders. He looks into my eyes. I am a little frightened but he is an artist so I let him. He pulls me to his chest and hugs me. Warmly. He holds me...

... for a little bit too long.

I swear he puts his head on my shoulder.

And then just as I'm about to say something he breaks his grasp and I swear he is crying.

"So important..." he seems to say.

"Something for you" and he gives me a photo and then he leaves. He turns and steps onto the boat...

To sail off into the night and I'm left holding this photo... and I'm a little confused...

Beautiful Firetree

We were out walking, Lucinda and I, in Queens Park... you know just round the pond and getting the air.... I'm not working so much so you know... I need to get out.

This autumn the trees have been beautiful, magnificent colours, reds, yellows and oranges... I think it's something to do with all the rain that fell and then the Indian summer.

I stopped under this one tree and started to fumble for my camera. I wanted to go right under it and capture the brilliant red leaves against the sky.

And I took a picture and then looked over at Lucinda and she was crying. I mean it. Really crying... and she wouldn't say why.

Well she did - she said - "It's just so sad."

But not to me. Under her breath.

And she just walked on hands in pocket and I thought it was something I had done and I tried to apologise and she kissed me. Hard. With passion and lust and desperation. And I could taste her tears and I didn't understand but you know I didn't mind.

I didn't mind at all... her eyes were filled with tears and she looked at me in a way that made me forget it all...

And we went home.

Worrying...

Lucinda has been really attentive of late, really unlike her, kind of hanging around with me, watching me, not in a bad way... she's been really attentive... no that's not the right word. It's not like she's been waiting on me hand and foot, rather she's been just wanting to hang-out... all the time. If I'm sitting around reading the paper then she wants to sit around and read the paper, I want to watch re-runs of The Prisoner, she wants to watch re-runs of The Prisoner, I want to pick my toes while listening to desert island disks on a Sunday morning in my underpants... well you get the idea.

Which is odd - because she isn't usually like that. She always got a plan, a thing to do and a place to be, there's this undercurrent of tension in her... actually she has been impatient of late... but with the small things in life... like supermarket ques and answerphones... and anything that isn't bsaically bumming around the flat with me.

Which is odd.

But also really good in some ways.

But there again, I can't help but wander if she is feeling guilty about something and then I think about Josh and then I get worried...

Gate crashers

We had a couple of gate crashers last night - I remember now...

Normally at parties, especially at our parties, I surrender all sense of sociability and leave the niceties of talking to people, checking that everyone is happy and issuing platitudes to Lucinda. This time though it felt different, people were making an effort to chat with me, you know, actually search me out - no matter how hard I tried to skulk in corners or pretend that I was too busy DJing - they seemed to want to talk to be... unusual what with it being my birthday an dall.

So I'm in the corner of the room behind the decks, rummaging in the old record box and I stand up and there are two characters there who definitely don't fit in. They're old and rough looking - like - we like real ale drinkers, dressed right down with fat bulbous noses and whiskers and one of them has this long spindly grey hair and the other looks straighter and has this sort of mini quiff and an old SLR camera. They've both got paunches and so I'm like "Oh um yeah hello?" - which is the best I could muster up in the circumstances.

And they start talking to each other.

"It's Cornelius" "Yes it is indeed Mr Hooklam" "Well we should introduced ourselves shouldn't we Mr Dodley" "Introduce ourselves and give him the book, Mr Hookley" "The book indeed Mr Dudlam" "Why of course Mr Hudlam". "I told you we should have wrapped it though Mr Dukley" "Oh, you are so old fashioned, one does not need to wrap a present in this day and age"

Now I'm feeling a little twatted at this point and these two unhealthy shapes are not helping my mental health and they were just looking at me.... considering... waiting for their moment.

"The book" they say together.

And they give me this:

Now this happens to me a lot - with my name and everything - it happens all the time. Everyone thinks I don't know that there was a pulp writer called Zane Grey - a writer of third rate adenture novels most of which I now have...

So the book comes over and I give them a quick "Uh thanks - do I know you?"

"Mr Budley he says he doesn't know us" "Why Hooklock why should he? Of course he doesn't know us"

"You haven't met us before have you?" they say together.

And I'm like "No".

"He hasn't met us has he Mr Hocklam?" 'He's just an innocent isn't he Mr Dudcock?" "Look at how sweet he is" "So naive."

"Er... have gents got anything to say? Its just you know-"

"Well you're a little twat Cornelius Zane-Grey" they say together.

And then rough me up but... by... well ... by tugging at my hair - quite hard... pulling my shirt around... knocking my drink over... well spilling a bit at least ... and pushing the needle off the gimpbeat 12' I was dropping to the masses at the time.. (see picture)

And then there's some shouting and the Alpha males wade in and the two red-face characters are led out - alcoholics noses glowing - burning with indignation.

"Enjoy you party Cornelius! Enjoy yourself! Enjoy yourself! We hope you're happy now! Twat."

And they've gone.

And I'm... I'm confused.

Josh left last...

He would never do that... I lay in bed for hours... eyes wide... unable to sleep listening to their voices bouncing round the room.

I couldn't here what they were saying but the rthymns and patterns told me they were talking closely... personally... on and on into the morning...

I lay there torturing myself. Sometimes when they went quiet it was worse. I imagined what they were doing. My imagination would begin sliding out of control... picturing... torturing myself. Then I'd get up to go for a slash... under the pretence of going to the slash... and I'd see them sat together on the couch. Side by side... in silence.

He left at about 11 - the door clicked and I watched him go out into the street. He turned as he left and I swear, I swear for an instant his eyes met mine... and in that moment his eyes were so gentle... so... resigned... that I almost felt sorry for him...

And then the feeling passed.

And a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

And he turned and left.

Lucinda came to bed and held me tightly as she slept.... I turned my back to her and her arms encircled me... I woke before her.

And here I am now.

I can't begin to tell you how ruined I feel...

I didn't want this to happen.

I never want it to happen.

For all the days leading up - for the whole run-in - I'm just like "no no no a quiet night for me please" "I hate parties" "Birthday's aren't special" "no one likes me anyway".

And then come the day - come the day itself - I'm like "I need a party now. This instant. This is the most important day of my life. Everyone love me and I want them to proove it with the presence in my house this instant."

And Lucinda rolls her eyes and gets on the phone and people start coming in through the door and suddenly the house is full and there is a party and I hate it.

A lot happened... I'm going back to bed.

I haven't slept much and there are still people in the front room...

This is porbably a bad idea...

Lucinda has persuaded me to go on Facebook - all very well - but then she told me I should include a link to this site - 'you never know you might get some work out of it' - hmmm yeah right.

Perhaps I should stop this... soon...

An envelope on the mat...

Slipped under the door of the garage. My name on it in written in scrawled longhand.

A hold it for a while.

I start to open it... and then set it down.

I sit and look over at Lego Man.

Josh comes in - without talking or asking he sits on his chair by the door - digs into his pockets for his smokes and picks up the envelope.

"This is cool - you know - you should take one of your photos of it."

"Why?"

"It's abstract"

"When did you last sleep?"

I took the photo.


There was a letter inside.

"Observation for Cornelius

In the ‘real world’ there are many rules and regulations. Society requires that you place yourself within a certain group or else be considered an outsider. But there’s a genuine and sincere need for an authentic self and it’s further growth and development.

To be continued... thank you.

Ego"

Josh tells me that Ego is the artist's name. Somehow I'm not surprised.

It doesn't mean anything to me - nothing about his work does - other than the fact that I'm being payed.

It doesn't trouble me...

You know, it's not that I'm worried about them - about their stolen glances and little whispered asides - I don't worry.

I know they're old old mates - like a brother and sister.

I know that.

Its just I wish I didn't feel so excluded - like there's some little in joke or story that I'm not part of.

They're keeping me on the outside.

We walked through town on Saturday. The three of us.

We walked past Churchill Square, an identikit any'town shiopping centre - mostly filled with language students, emo-kids and porker mums with their fat kids. You know the kind of place.

Other than this is Brighton and there people in black sat at a table in V for Vendatta style masks - handing out some kind of literature a cult - and geting hardly any response from the 'freak-hardended' hordes of Birghton.

Of course I got a picture - its my thing at the moment - I don't know whether you noticed.




So I grab this photo and Lucinda pulls me away - by the arm - as soon as I've taken it. Like she's frightened of what I'm doing and I look at her and she's like "Just don't" and I look at her.

And then I swear one of the people in masks calls out "Hey Josh" to Josh, who's on his phone at the time... just that. Josh stops and looks at the masked one and then Lucinda pulls him along.

"Josh - come on lets walk"

And its an order.

And then they give each other a look.

A look so loaded - so riven with meaning that the air almost crackles between them.

And I hate that.

White Elephant.

I met Lucinda in town - in a coffee shop - and there was a fat American with her, sitting at her table and he was going through photos with her... sitting beside her and showing her photo after photo after photo.

I watched from the outside.

They weren't talking much. When I came in the fatman jumped and guiltily started gathering up the pictures... I couldn't really see what they were off but there were a few of him. Long unwashed slightly bushy hair, a black beard, glasses... over weight... he looked like he'd spent too long playing a foxy elf princess on World of Warcraft...

'This is John".

"Oh hi John."

"Hi" Californian... confident... slightly nasal.

"he's an old friend of Barney's"

"Oh yeah I didn't think he had any."

John laughs... it sound like a small cavalcade of horsemen riding over a tin bridge.

"Have you seen him of late?"

"No" stimulus response.

"Well, Cornelius' let me know if you do see him... well let Lucinda know... I've got some news for him."

I didn't like that. He left. I liked that.

Lucinda went into denial mode, John had recognised her from a photo of Barney at some festival a year back, is an old freidn, she doesn't know what he wanted with him...

She's lieing.

I look in her bag when we got home, I had a feeling that she'd taken a photo when John was laughing.

She had.

It was of this.

Crap. Isn't it?

The artist.

The artist visited today. I was nearly done with the job - the figure stands at 8ft. I've grown fond of him.

The artist arrived and walked into the garage. He's in his thirties. Dense Dutch accent. He looked at the figure closely - it's yellow with a green torso and red legs. As requested.

The artist came in unannounced. He was with Josh, but for once Josh didn't seem to be there. I think... I think he didn't care for him... I mean care about him. He didn't care if he even existed.

In fact I kind of felt as if he had come to see me. To check me over after he had checked the Lego man.

He me up and down and smiled and then we looked at each other in silence.

"Thank you" he said.

I smiled.

And then he shook my hand and pull me into him... close... intimate. I could smell him - a sour smell - or cheese and loneliness.

"Flickerman est doof"

"Pardon".

"Ah-ha-ha-ha", and he winked, tapped his nose, and left.

Josh looked embarassed.

That isn't normal.

Josh... just Josh... and Lucinda... and me.

Josh turned up in a new Italian designer leather coat today. All brown soft leather and a fur collar. Like he didn't take a cut on this job... like he didn't take a cut...

He sits in the back of the garage I'm building Lego man in - constructing and shaping him from layers of resin - and Josh just sits there smoking rollies and chopping up lines on an old chess board I stashed in there...

This isn't like Josh, he's normally so... engaged. Off other places doing his things and making moves and being important and now here he is getting wired in the oily air Russel's garage and telling me how to build an outsized children's toy...

What happened to him?

He was always the focal point, the one who had, the one who you wanted to know...

I met him at the same time I met Lucinda - outside a party in Camberwell - in London. We spilled onto the pavement outside the venue, it was actually a kind of sex party, well that was the way it had been sold to me - a kind of leather fetish event - actually it seemed consist of a random bunch of caners in their mid 20s getting twisted in a middle of the room surrounded by a salivating pack of middle-aged S&M sleaze creatures - praying on the young - waiting for one of them to make a slip or stray too far from their group - and then they'd strike and lead the little drugged up away to be toyed in the sub-urban dungeons.

So we stayed close and protected each other - even though we were strangers. Josh was there at the centre - dishing out pills with an air of assurity - he was the one who has - he always like to be the one who has.

The night ended and we spilled outside - into the streets - we had survived and were united in our victory over the drool sprayers inside. We milled around, "where next? where next?", it was 2am, a Saturday, we had managed to avoid being drug raped and now we were asking each other "where next?"

And Lucinda pointed at me and said "I don't know where, but I'm going where ever he's going".

And I thought - "this doesn't happen to me" - and I looked at her - and that was it.

I'd like to pretend that we went off that night, but I was too munted and Josh was being an attention hoover, sucking the energy of everyone there towards himself, and I couldn't work out where there was space for me.

But I got her number and called her later that week.

Bravest thing I'd ever done.

Yeah, I'm afraid it was.

And now she lives with me. And Josh... Josh has bloodshot eyes, he doesn't shave, he's smoking and is doing a couple of grammes a day and I'm wondering what has happened to us...

How did this happen to me?

I'm meant to be a gardener - well that's what I was onel of the things I was meant to do. I've got the van, the wheel barrow and the web-site.

So how come I came to be employed building Giant Lego men out of resin for a Dutch artist - whose name I have never heard.

How come that has happened to me?

Because of Josh that's how come... he met the artist at a party in London and you can picture the scenario can't you? Do I need to fill in the gaps? The bullshit that was passed between them? The egos massaged? The lines chopped out?

I don't have to fill in the details do I?

The only thing you need to know is that Josh turned up at our flat on Monday and explained to me that what with it being Autumn and everything and CZ Gardens not doing so well and the glop-house DJ sets not really paying the rent... would I like to build a giant plastic Lego man for his mate... who was an artist and was Dutch.

No, he didn't know why he wanted why he wanted to giant plastic Lego man.

No, he couldn't buy one off Lego.

No, he wasn't taking a cut for any work I did.

So I've got a month, some plans, a lot of resin and vinyl and Josh sitting in the back of Russels garage watching me as I figure out where to being...

That's why I'm online now...

Researching...

How did this happen to my life?

The DJ Played On...

I played a set at a free part over the bank holiday... I pulled the short straw and got a 7am slot... we drove to the ass-end of nowehere, set up the tent and the PAa and then waited for the punters to arrive

I think we had competition from the Beachdown Festival across the valley, so other than a few remaindered crusties and the couple of obligatory chav-boys with there staffs there wasn't much of a crowd at first, the music at the Festival must have shut down at 3am because by 4 the numbers had swelled and we were getting somewhere - the police were busy with the legitimate bash and the only time we were disturbed was when a group of moonlight orienteers crossed the middle of our patch - here was a rare meeting of three clans the asbo dodging bling boys, the last of the crustices and the goretex clad midnight bobba-joggers.

There was a pause... dreddlocks hovered in the air, staff held mid snarl and compases stretched in front of the orienteers ran through... eyes fixed... seeing nothing... hearing nothing... knowing that it's better not even to register the existence of that whole other world about them.

The party carried on... Dawn broke and the mist came down. Lucinda was waiting with me, as I peered over the shoulder of an intensley focused PsyTrance DJ, the crowd started to disperse, damp and tired. The trance carried on endlessly - tediously cycling and looping - he wouldn't even look at me. Soon there was only me and him, Lucinda, Josh and Russell waited at one side for a resolution to this battle of wills.

The DJ played on.

Round and round over and over - nananana - break - drum build - nanananananana - break drum build - nananananana - you know the method to that PsyTrance madness....

I wasn't sure how the others would stick around - I was about to do something - something physical - step in and stop the man physically when I friend of Josh's grabbed my camera and took the photo below.

That's me behind the man behind the platters that matter - Josh is in the parker - Lucinda the pink hood.

And that was it - the photo got taken - and Mr DJ stepped to one side - passed me the cans - and left me an empty field to entertain.

Which I of course did....

I looked over even Lucinda had wandered off - with Josh - most probably to enjoy his viarious chemical treats.

Leaving me alone. In the mist. Playing Globhop.

After a while the genreator ran out of petrol.

I shut down and we went home.

Keep him out of my house... please

Barney came round again. Uninvited. Fat, obtrusive Barney bloating out another day of my life.

Why? Why don't I have the strength of character to just tell him to 'fuck off'?

No one knows where Barney lives, the general suspicsion is that there is a mother somewhere who takes care of him by night, realising him into public so that he can blight our lives by daylight.

Today he was telling me about his share dealing. He invited himself in, I mean not that I was doing anything but that the point, he invited himself in and sat on Lucinda's new designer couch, and started telling me about his plans for the next few months.

"Sell up your banking shares Cornelius I'm telling you."

"Barney I don't have any banking shares".

"Well get out of anything tide up with higher finance."

"Barney, I'm a gardener".

"Its all coming down I tell you."

He told me to buy VW shares and hold them until the end of the year.... and I thought "I'm don't have a penny you bullshitter and neither do you between us the only difference is that I have the honesty to admit that there is nothing in my pocket" but I didn't say that, I nodded with a weak "Yeah yeah" and waited for him to leave.

"I'll leave", he said about an hour later.

After he'd gone, maybe another hour I noticed there was a dent, no not just a dent, a sagging bend of a dent, in the couch where he had been sitting... permanently... an ugly folded reminder of the hateful man's arse.

A Picture Has Appeared on the Mantlepiece

This is me really testing whether anyone is reading this blog... I would be so dead if I was caught doing this... but I'm enjoying the mixture of the public and private. A personal confessional that takes place in a public space.

I would though be completely dead if Lucinda found this site.

You see, I haven't seen this picture for a longtime - her mother died a long time ago - when she was a teenager. She hasn't really told me how, well she has but for the most part I've forgotten the details... does that sound harsh... well given that NO ONE is reading this nonsense why should I care...

Sorry, where was I?

Yeah Lucinda's mother, the venerated figure of whom no ill can or will ever be spoken, and suddenly there she was - in our living room - gazing softly out at me... all black and white and cool and beautiful. There are some kids in the background of the picture - I'm not sure if Lucinda is amongst them...who's to say.

I asked her about this picture and she looked sad and said it would have been her mother's birthday this week - she would have been 50 - and Lucinda said she had been on her mind. Her whole family had been on her mind. In that moment I thought about the photo I found, in the cereal packet, the little photo of her sister. I wondered if I should tell her I knew about it - that she needn't keep that part of her life secret anymore - that I wouldn't judge her no matter what - those words were just on the tip of my tongue - I was on the cusp of saying them...

And then Lucinda looked at me with such warmth - such affection - and she took me in her arms.

She told me: "You don't need to say or do anything... you're my family now... all I need."

And the moment was gone. The truths I had to speak were left unsaid. We would carry on living with our secrets.

I took this photo of her photo though... I really am so completely dead if she finds this...

Loop de Loop

There was a Festival in town the other day, near the Pavilion, electronic music and local bands and the like. I'd put myself forward to get a DJ slot but was only offered the opportunity to play a 'click-house' set in a ice cream van with speakers outside it. Got us free passes anyway so I shouldn't complain too bitterly, even if it was at 12pm and my only audience was a two year and a drunk Scotsman in combat fatigues.


The afterparty dragged on endlessly and then thanks to Lucinda's endless enthusiasm for filling our house with wasters ended up back at ours. I hid in bed, covers over my head, unable to sleep... when I got up to have a slash I checked the living room and there was Josh and Lucinda in a corner, talking as per usual, having one of their little tete a tetes - only this time Josh was crying. Wiping tears with his cuffs... and... this is the oddest thing... I swear Lucinda was taking a picture of his tears. On her camera phone. Close up.

I enter the room and for a beat everyone stops - they stop talking, bullshitting, skinning up, bragging, monging and sagging in their seats. Everyone takes a beat and then carries on.

And I am frankly I am deeply and profoundly freaked out.

So I go for a piss and then hide in bed.

Another day another Pier fire

Standing on the sands of Margate - watching plumes of black smoke filling the sky above the pier - I wandered whether we hadn't seen quite enough pier fires for a lifetime. This was our third, no forth because we saw both the Brighton West Pier fires, I mean we live by the coast and everything but, well, this can't be normal - can it?

Lucinda stood on the shore next to me, our little day trip to cheer my up, gone up in well... smoke. She wanted to takes up Mackeral fishing, had even made us a couple of pirate hats and a bottle of rum to make it all that little bit more jolly... frankly it sound extremely ominous to me and I was right.

The fire burnt and a small crowd gathered on the sands with us, surprisingly few considering that local pier was burning down - a lot of people seemed to be just bustling by - too busy to pause and take it in.

The only person I remember from the day was an unshaven and unwashed man with a long rain coat, with electrical flex spilling out of it pockets, he had greasy hair flicked across his forehead and a red drinkers nose.

He stumbled up to us... looked me up an down in a manner the sent the hackles rising on the back of my neck, and then stabbed a finger into my chest;

"You're wasting your time"

And that was it... he left...

My Black Eye

Yes that is my eye - and that is blood in it... I'm lucky I can see.

Looks cool though doesn't it? Though I'm not going out for anyone to see it... not after what happened yesterday.

I went to see the Shreddie swap incident in Ditchling you see. I was in the van and kind of took a detour and parked outside the village hall eating sandwiches and watching across the road. It was raining and I sat in the front and ate my floppy sandwiches and watched as the windows steemed up.

I was there for what 20-minutes - nothing happening - and then there's a knocking on the car window and ajump and spill my sarney and wind the window open a bit. There's this builder outside, big bloke, chubby, wearing a hard hat and an orange jacket - and I look at him and he says something to me... and it sounds kind of Polish or something... and I'm like "what?"... he just stares at me so I wind the window down some more and a great fist busts into my face.

I'm telling you he just hits me and then walks off.

And I just freak - well I fall over and then freak - holding my face and giving a bit of a wail because I'm not really cut out for this - this being punched in the face business - it doesn't really suit me.

I get out the car and he's gone. It's raining, I'm standing there, confused, looking around... a woman walks past with a dog... she looks at me.

I get in the car and go home.

I thought Lucinda would be all over me w but she just took it in her stride. Gets all mumsy over me, bathing my eye, taking the picture - the one above, but she tells me not to bother with the police.

She asked me what I was doing in ditchling, hanging around in the rain... I told her garden supplies... she gave me a look that said "uh-huh I hear you" and left it at that...

I can't really explain can I?

Russell and I did a job in Ditchling...

.. and we went to the Bull int he centre of... and afterwards I went to look at the little village hall across the road - across from the pub... Lucinda has a thing for jumble sales... she can fly into a mound of mouldie grany cramp and pull out an item of vintage gold.

It's her knack.

I usually come away from more Phillip K Dick novels... and once a cool pinstripe gangster suit that turned out to have a dark yellow stain on the inside lining... around the crotch.

Anyway - I'm looking ofr sign for the annual 4x4 driving rich bitch yummy mummy car clear out jumble festival - when the wealthy discard their unneeded possesions to we mere poor type - and I saw this... and I got my camera phone and took this picture...

And I have to say... I really don't understand what 'Shreddies' are.. if they are slang for something... but I got spooked...

Russell just thought it was funny... but then so are most things to him... he doesn't really do deep... or spooked... or anything much other than munted.

A little discovery...

... okay I guess after my outburst about Josh that I can be sure that no one I know is reading this... well at least if they are they aren't telling me jack because... well because no one has got back to me over anything.

So I can write about what happened this morning.

I found something.

Something very personal to Lucinda, very important and in the strangest of places.

A couple of years back I found out that she had a secret sister - actualy I'm really not sure I should be doing this - but no one else seems to pay attention to me these days - I've faded to far in the background it sometimes feel - and no one is reading...

And just now it feels good.

Anyway - I heard her talking to Josh about her, this estranged sister, it sounded like they were separated when they were kids and Lucinda says she has a picture of her and it was this big secret... I never let her know I overheard them... sometimes its goodto know these things - to -well have these things and not let on.

So anyway this mornign I'm laying out my breakfast and I notice that Lucinda has bought a new packet of Shreddies and they've got Magic Roundabout figurines in them - and this of course makes me think of Dougal - the Dougal I found in the wall in Kemp town.

So I dig - wanting to see if I can start collecting the set - the packet is already open but I don't pull out a toy... my hand slides in I feel apiece of glossy card anad I pull out a picture - of two girls - one blonde haired and the other dark haired - its not a whole picture its slike a slither - they are sitting together and holding hands and they look pretty comforatable and they look a little alike (though its hard to tell because you can only see half their faces) - and I recognise the blonde girl.

Its Lucinda...

And I don't know who the dark girl is but I can guess.

And I look at the picture - which is pretty curled up and battered and I slide it back into the packet.

And I'm pretty puzzled.

And the next day it is gone...

barney gets wood

barney collected his rotten wood today...

Turns up in some crappy reliant with a goofy looking character driving it...

"I'm building a barn" the big my says - scoops his shit up from our hallway and leaves without a single gesture of thanks...

I'm getting bitter.

Josh and his little secrets

Okay take a look at the clock and I guess you can see that I shouldn't really be up writing this... this is what is dangerous about the internet... about these blogging things... I really didn't want to find myself doing this.

But I jsut left a Lucinda at Russell's house... Josh was there playing the lord high and might for one of his all night sessions... that'll go on until god only knows when... ad al they are going to to do is rack up and talk shite... endlessly... and we have to listen to Josh... he has to hold sway... bcause he's the one who has.

You know that.

That's the only reason why we put up with his bull... because he's the one who is holding.

And sometimes he doesn't even have the decency to look me in the eye. Especially of late... since he's been on one of his benders... he can't even be aresed to look at me.... blah blah blah himself blah blah blah himself...

And Lucinda put up with it... she's just acts like he's all normal and we should love him for all this crap... and you know what... I'd just like to tell him one day. Tell him what we really think of him.

But I guess this isn't quite the time to do that...

Where's the delete...

Sd it bed...

Strangest Thing Happened Today

I haven't really updated this blog for a while but the strange thing happened today.. Lucinda and I were walking through Kemp Town, it had been raining and we left a pub... I was whinging about getting wet and she did her usual "oh it won't rain" act... and we took off...

And then I noticed something - a little picture on a wall - a little tiny picture of two figures in red and blue standing next to each other and they were standing beside a hole - a hole in the wall - the figures looked like stencils - square shouldered and pictographic stencils - just a little bit of street art.

So I crouched down to look at them and she was giving me all this what are you doing business but for once I had the urge to look in the hole... it was very powerful.... I wanted to put my hand in the hole... reach in and like... find out what was in there... like it was inviting.

Anyway the hand goes in and Lucinda is complaning and I feel something plastic, like a cylinder, a round plastic cylinder about two inches long...

And I pull out this little fella -just in there waiting for me... how d'ya like that...


Lucinda though just arched any eyebrow when I pulled this here dougal out and just asked if we could go home... no surprise... no curiosity... just "aha... can we go home now..."

A visit from Barney...

... Lucinda left for work and he came over. I'm not sure why he came to see me, he was just there. Filling my space. Space I was going to use for myself for my life - but he filled in - and didn't speak - well he did actually.

He spoke a lot.

About himself, on and on and on, about himself, and his plans and his schemes and every little pie he'd ever had his fingers stuck... onwards and onwards a drone... he told me how I should run my business, how I should run my life, what I should do with my life, how he ran his gardening business, how he ran his gardening business so much better than I ever did (why of course he did).

It just didn't stop...

We went out... we found a beach where there was still some wood left over from the cargo ship that lost its cargo earlier in the year and he persuaded me to go and get my van and fill it with this rotting sodden pine - that stank - that's me beside it, in the red trousers. He took this photo and when we got home put it onto my computer - but then left me with the wood - in my van.

I'll pick it up next week he says.

Pick it up next week - I don't believe but I let him get away with it.

Why?

Life just look so easy for everyone else...

I lay in bed and watched Luicinda this morning moving around our flat - making calls - paying bills - arranging... arranging I don't know what - just arranging everything - and it looked so easy... she's effortless... she was gone with a smile and a kiss in an instant... and then I got up... actually I didn't get up there and then I had a hand shandy, made some coffee, went back to bed, read last Thursdays paper, had a shower, got up, checked my mobile phone, had breakfast and then went back to sleep...

And that's my point.

I didn't know what to do. I look at other people and they seem to be so focused, directed... I still feel like a kid by comparison.... I'm over 30 now... I've passed the cusp... not middle-aged but its approaching on the horizon... and I don't know what I'm meant to do.

I'm still a child. Really - I thought I would have stopped feeling like this...

But I'm still a bloody child.

Maybe its because nothing bad - I mean really bad - has ever happened to me... maybe that is it. Maybe something has to happen - something of such seriousness that I make the transition - that huge transition into adulthood and then that's it... in one fell sweep... wooooosh the veil is pulled away and there I am... adult.

But for the while I'm still this child - still the same person I was a decade before.

Hmmmmmm.

This really isn't working as a gardening block is it?

Also all DJing gigs considered - very reasonable fees.

I take that back... about not wanting your work

I have a new spade and of course I am ready to work...

Any time any palce.

Waiting for your call.

It's very shiny you know...

Sorry about the last post - I think I was letting things get on top of me - the combination of the complete lack of interest in my work either as a gardener or as a DJ.

I've turned a corner now - I've decided to accept my fate - my lot in life - this is what I'm going to be obviously... so this is it.

I look at the rest of them - by whom I mean absolutely everyone else and they all seem to know what they are doing with their lives - kind of comfortable in them - and so I've decided I should be the same - hence this web-site and hence the new improved Cornelius 'ZG' attitude.

If it is my lot to stand in the bitter rain digging holes for some stuck-up stockbroker scum who earns more in an hour than I do in a year then so be it. I am at one with myself - as Sartre would say I am not living in 'bad faith'. I am not limited by the label "gardener and failed difficult DJ" - I will rise above it.

There I am arisen.

Please hire me - but if you do so understand that you do not own me.

Unless you pay loads of cash in which case I am most certainly yours.

No work for May

No work for May
Which is a great thing - really - its the Festival, my girlfriend has arranged masses of things for us to do - and I like culture... I wouldn't want to be getting all dirty in a garden anyway would I .

So don't call me at CZGardens.

Not for May.

I don't want your business.

Actually this whole blog thing isn't going to well is it?

Given that absolutely no-one has read a single word I've said - other than Lucinda - and that was only to pick on my choices and gardening tracks. Frankly I'm a little disheartened by the whole thing...

"Oh you need an online profile they said - oh yes you've got to do it. Now do it now and you'll see the difference."

Well this is the reality - a man sitting in his dressing gown with a mug of luke warm tea talking to himself via a VDU and a keyboard.

Well - look at me now.

Happy now!

It's Spring!

Gardens Cleared... Floors Cleared

It's Spring and CZGardens want to work on your garden.

Now. 50% discount on all work considered.

Also hideously unpopular DJ work also offered... all your favourite slabs of dance snobbery played by a po-faced DJ.

Can't afford Richie Hawtin - want to make your guests feel uncomfortable/bored in a party atmosphere?

Contact Cornelius.

Please

Music to Listen to While Gardening

1
A Bizarre Gardening Accident by Headhunter

2.
Black Market Gardening by Fila Brazillia

3.
Hong Kong Garden by Siouxisie and the Banshees

er...

that's it for gardening tracks...

wish I hadn't started this one...

A Break in Business

CZGardens will not be taking an orders of work for the  forseeable  future because an incident involving the CZG mobile - a college of the company (Josh) borrowed our prime and main form of transport - and pranged it.  

The  van is  out of action so please hand on until further notice if you want any further gardening or landscaping or DJing work.

Thanks - Cornelius

New Season New Tools

We're constantly looking at new and innovative approaches to gardening and landscape gardening at CZGardens. In celebration of the inpending end of winter and the launch of a new year for CZGardens we're pleased to announce the release of our new, bespoke, hand crafted range of super wheel barrows.

With extra depth, hard grib handles and broad tires for extra stability the CZGarden Two Ply Wheel Baby is an experience you will never experience anywhere else.

DJ gigs also considered - gitbag and hardtrop a speciality - no requests.

DJ gigs also considered.