Documentally.com» Personal

If You Can Fix Soles, You Can Save Lives.

Documentally — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 19:48:25 +0000

If my Granddad were still alive this year, we’d be celebrating his hundredth birthday. We often made fun that his birth was the second major disaster of 1912.

When he died he took a thousand stories with him. And just as many songs. He was a guarded man. The few stories we shared only offered a glimpse of the life he’d lived.

Born in a field in the Ukraine. Before the First World War. Before the Russian Revolution. His mother cut the umbilical with her teeth. A break from picking potatoes. His childhood years saw rural adventures punctuated with death and hunger.

His brother, shot dead for stealing fruit. His father, an officer of the Tzar, died in a prison for being anti-Communist. He left the Ukraine and travelled Russia during the famine. Searching for food and work. Some of the stories I overheard as a child were the background for my first nightmares.

What I most remember, and in some ways is his legacy in place of the missing stories, were his skills. A proud man, an emotional man, his first passions were poetry & music, but denied an education because of his fathers politics, he chose to repair things, to make things, create things.

The first time I fixed something was with him. It was the sole of a shoe. He could make shoes and told me that a handful of simple skills had saved his life more than once. His early life had involved walking countless miles. Away from prisoner of war camps, away from famine. From meal to meal, job to job. I only now understand what he meant when he said ”If you can fix soles you can save lives.”

He taught me to tie my laces, but with a special knot. He taught me change a plug, to solder, to fix a radio, a TV. He taught me nothing was broken that couldn’t be fixed. And I believed this. Even as I watched him lose the ability to walk, as a worsening limp forced him into a wheelchair. As failing eyes made him blind.

Most of the stories I now remember came from afternoons sat with my housebound Grandfather. A man too proud to seek medical attention until forced. A man who occasionally told me how proud he was of me. Of where I had been, of what I had seen, but mostly that I had listened to him. Learned from him. And that those skills would live on after him.

He shared more stories and tales in his last year than all of the years before. I would sit and listen to him, or we would both listen to his treasured short wave radio. Like our lives depended on it. He could translate the crackled tales from five different languages. He told me words were the only tools left to him.

He gave me his hat telling me there was no weather indoors. He gave me his watch as he could no longer see it. He gave me his shoes with the metal heel taps.

It’s his words though that I treasure the most. That I’m writing here in case I forget to pass them on.

It made him sad to fade away. To avoid death for 91 years and yet have his physical abilities stripped slowly away in the last 20.

He told me “You must make and create while you can. For as long as you can… When I couldn’t find food, I made music. When I couldn’t buy a ticket, I made shoes. There is always hope. It’s the simplest of tools.”

When helping my Grandmother tidy her house the other day, I came a cross a carrier bag under the stairs. It was like I’d found treasure. Inside were a handful of tools and a cast iron shoe repair anvil, a cobble.

These were my Grandfathers tools. His words sit in my memory and now these tools sit in my hands.

I find a beautiful momentum in the journey both these tools and my Grandfathers words have made. It’s comforting to think that there may be a certain immortality to our ideas and creations.

If we share.

Instinct grows my beard. Shaving is merely maintenance.

Documentally — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 11:42:03 +0000

I don’t grow a beard. Thankfully it grows itself. This allows me to achieve something visible to all with very little effort on my part.

I like it. It’s a mask, its warm in winter, handy with an open face helmet on a motorbike and often it gives people the wrong impression of me. And there is much fun to be had in challenging peoples first impressions.

If it starts getting in the way of my joy of food though, I treat it like a farmer would a hedge that encroaches on a right of way. I hack it back.

Sometimes though, like this morning, I just feel the need to shave it off and start again. A metaphorical burning of the stubble. A facial spring clean. When I’m really old I think I’ll take it’s growth more seriously. There are some epic beards on wizened men and I find these bearded elders the most interesting of people. Their sponge-like faces soaking up stories, history. When I grow up I want to be like them.

Triumph Scrambler Designs from @SpiritOfThe70s

Documentally — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 21:57:00 +0000

My much loved Triumph Scrambler 900 is with Spirit Of The 70′s for customisation.

Some people change their bike every year. I’ve had a few bikes but I feel this one is for keeps and I’d like to make it something even more special. Even more mine.

I fell in love with my Triumph seconds after pulling out of the dealers for a test ride. They had let me out on the Scrambler while they prepped the Triumph Street Triple I was there to try ..and potentially buy.

And yet I left on the Scrambler. It was everything I wanted in a bike. The ride, the sound, the simplicity. And it wasn’t tuned like a Speeder Bike.
It’s a timeless bike as much fun at 30 as it is at 90 (allegedly).

I’ve been too-ing and fro-ing ideas and photos with the guys from @Spiritofthe70s for a couple of weeks now and feel the final bike design will look something very much like one of these photos in this post.
I have my favourite. Which one is yours?

This is my bike as it looks now..

002 – Eat in a Ukrainian Restaurant

Documentally — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 21:36:05 +0000

The years are mounting up this side of my Granddads death and as well as the conversational glimpses into my family history, I find myself missing the food we would eat.

He loved his food.

In his final years, housebound and slowly going blind, conversation, food and the radio were his only real pleasures. My Gran looked after the food side of things. She would cook all the dishes he enjoyed through the 50+ years they were together. Italian from her side, Ukrainian from his, and then some dishes somewhere in the middle.

The main reason for adding ‘Eat in A Ukrainian restaurant’ to my 40at40 list was to relive some of the dishes. Relive and compare. Even when I visited the Ukraine via Russia during the Russian Constitutional Crisis in 1993 I never got to eat in a restaurant. I ate on the street, on trains and with family.

The hunt for a Ukrainian restaurant was not as easy as I thought it would be. Mainly because it appears the Ukrainian community prefer to eat at each others houses, or at the many Ukrainian societies dotted around the UK. I did think of actually visiting the Ukraine but I thought that a little extravagant what with all the other things I plan to do this year.

Luckily after a little googling and a couple of phone calls, (one to the Ukraine) I found the Albina. The only other London place listed was called ‘Divo’ and had the most incredibly bad reviews. It had also shut, luckily down.

So I headed to the Albina.

listen to ‘Inside Albina, a Ukrainian Restaurant in London’ on Audioboo

239 Barking road was a short walk from the overland train. As I entered I could hear a conversation at the end of the long thin restaurant between what seemed like regulars or friends of the barman. No words I understood though.

Under the cartwheel light fittings, the walls were adorned with painted plates, crockery, dolls and wooden medieval weaponary. Windows painted on either side gave you the impression you were on the shores of a cartoon lake. I walked between the heavy set tables made of varnished logs towards the beach type bar in the bottom corner opposite the toilets. The only word the barman spoke that I understood was “Wodka?”

I used the universal nodding system I fall back on when anyone offers me a drink. I sampled two drinks, a peppery almost chilli laced Vodka and one made from birch sap. This was new to me but I have since learned that 12th century slavic manuscripts refer to the use of birch sap in alcoholic drink making. I’d certainly drink them again. In fact I did just that almost immediately.

After meeting the waiter I picked a seat by the door (just in case) and ordered one of my favourite meals, Borscht.

When it arrived my hunger allowed a pause long enough to take a photo before I was overcome by the aroma and appearance. It was truly delicious.

An apple juice accompanied my decision making where I had to decide between a main and a sweet or two mains. I went for the latter. I am more of a lover of the more substantial dishes and I wanted to experience as much as I could. Afterall I had no idea if I was ever to return.

I followed the Borscht with with Draniki, a kind of shredded potato cake served with mushrooms, chicken and sour cream in a pot. I think the pot more Belorussian than Ukrainian but I could see by the clientele popping in that there was certainly fusion dishes on the menu.

My final main course was Golupsie. Minced beef, rice onion and veg wrapped in cabbage leaves and sometimes baked in a sauce. I knew this dish was to push me over the comfortably full line, but this was an important taste from my childhood and a dish that I miss very much. It reminds me of dinners with my Granddad more than any other dish.

I really enjoyed my experience at Albina and am so glad I not only added this option to my list, but that I discovered this interesting and unique restaurant. The service was great and I’d love to return with friends for a proper drawn out night of food, drinking and if it’s on a Saturday, perhaps some embarrassing dance.

The final bill came to £26.90 as I think a few of my ‘sample’ vodkas were omitted. Wonderful value for such hearty simple foods that look more complex when cooked, presented and delivered confident in the knowledge these are great and honest dishes.

Here is some audio I recorded as I left.

listen to ‘Fit to burst. Full of Ukrainian Food’ on Audioboo

If you’d like to help me complete an item off my list please let me know. Or simply subscribe to the blog or follow the tag 40at40 to see other posts as and when I complete them.

001 – Go to a pub dressed as a Stormtrooper

Documentally — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 07:32:00 +0000

My full 40at40 list is here on OurManInside.com This blog text is taken from here

For me my ’40 at 40′ list is an excuse to do forty crazy or unusual things in a year where people think I might perhaps be losing the plot.

If it’s on a list it’s premeditated and can’t be confused with those sporadic choices we are said to make in the midst of a midlife crisis, right?

I don’t actually subscribe to the ‘midlife crisis’ model of doing something weird or different because you’re worried you may not have made the right choices when you get to a certain point in your life. I’m happy with my choices so far, but like I say… Doing 40 new things in the year I am 40 years old fits in nicely with reaching what some people used to call middle aged. I don’t think we should need an excuse to want to live life to the full.

On this particular night I didn’t know I was walking into a surprise party. I had taken a good chunk of the evening building the modified Stormtrooper suit around my body. Then, necking a swift shot of whisky I headed overdressed and under-insulated into the snowy night.

Vision was limited and tinted green. For a while, all I could see as I trudged through my village streets was the small area lit under each streetlight. Blurred by the condensation building in my helmet and the growing blizzard swirling around me.

I felt cold, excited, parts of my body hurt as plastic chaffed and rubbed joints now thankfully growing numb. Yet I was smiling. A massive smile only I knew about in what felt like a movie only I could see and only I starred in.

That was until I saw the first car.

It crawled round the corner, cautious in this, the first snow of the year, and for a split second as I was noticed, the wheels locked and released. Then as the driver passed me I could see his face pressed to the glass, wearing an expression of pure bewilderment. I continued walking, smiling but turned to see he had stopped his car in the middle of the road as if allowing his brain to rationalise what his eyes had just seen.

It’s quite possible the driver had never seen Star Wars. Although this was not something I had figured on. Especially when walking past a cottage window as a young boy wiped the glass to see the snow. But saw me.

I stopped and was smiling but he didn’t know that. Even through my helmet and his hand smeared window I could hear him shout “Mum! Dad!”

I thought it best I walk on. I tried to imagine how he explained me to his parents. A robot? A space man? I wondered what they thought and how long it would take the little boy to see a comic or film featuring a Stormtrooper, so his confusing encounter could finally be put to rest.

When pointing out a failed headlight to another passing motorist he went on to pass me three more times. Just to make sure.

It was the strangest experience. But that’s what I was after. For a moment I was in a parallel universe. Not just because I was dressed as a soldier from a fictional one, but because on this night it snowed for the first time in a long time. On this night I was in a village where the scene I created was possibly the last thing local people would have expected to see. And on this night I had no datum with which to measure what it was I was going to experience, or for that matter what I would feel.

When I reached my destination I entered blind. I pushed the door to a 400 year old pub and what little vision I had was gone. My snow covered suit steamed up fully and in a few fumbled steps I was lifting my helmet to a totally unexpected roar.

It sounded like an excited “Happy Birthday!!” Shouted collectively by a group of voices as out of place in this country pub as my suit.

And just as I thought the night couldn’t get any better, it did.

(Thanks to @PaulOz for the loan of the suit and to @JaspaCycles for taking pics.)

40 at 40

Documentally — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 19:20:02 +0000

I’m 40 today. When I was a kid I thought that I’d feel like an old man at this age but I don’t. I still feel like a kid. Like another version of that same kid that found it impossible to visualise what life would be like this far into the future.

Now I’m here and understand a little more of the world, I can see there are so many things I may never understand. And that’s ok. If I could go back and tell that little boy something it would be.. Face your fears, tell those you love that you love them, learn how to be less selfish as soon as possible, and don’t worry, no matter what happens you’ll never forget how to have fun… Oh and don’t expect jetpacks any time soon.

I’m no less hungry for life now, than I was then. I still want to know more, to learn more, to see more. I feel like I’ve been playing a game my whole life and the fun bit is learning. The harsher lessons not so much, but after time you realise that to feel and understand the the highs you need to take a datum from the lows.

I don’t want life to stop being fun. Even when I grow cynical I’d like to be playful with it. To remember that some of the most important lessons I’ve learn’t have come from the most traumatic times. Some of the best stories too.

I guess that’s one of the reasons I created a list of new things I’d like to experience this year. If I can fit in 40 new experiences between February 2012 and Feb 2013, it will not only be a year to remember, it will certainly be one of my best. If I can share some of these things with friends and family then even better.

Below I have a list of more than 40 things. Some silly, some probably difficult without stacks of cash or time, or both. But all do-able and I’ll choose 40 from this bucket list as I move through the year.

If you feel like you want to experience some of these things with me, let me know. Maybe you do this kind of stuff all the time and can help me explore new sports, past-times, food stuffs or cultural idiosyncrasies.

Either way, lets have fun.

____________________________

Here is my list (in no particular order.) I’ll edit as I go through the year. Adding names and linking the content created as the experiences happen.

Go to a village pub dressed as a Stormtrooper The Star Wars kind. (DONE )

Eat Ukrainian (Done: Blog post to come)

Paraglide

Learn how to bake the perfect loaf (with @Tom_Herbert_)

Drive a modern electric car

Roast my own coffee (possibly with @Ilicco or @ChristianHambly)

Go Bell Ringing (possibly with Alex Foster)

Fly in a microlight

Bake a Sourdough Loaf (Done: Blog post to come)

Spend time in a sensory deprivation tank

Deploy a flood barrier (with @Britt_W)

Book a karaoke booth (with help from @Marthalanefox & @LuckyVoice?)

Kitesurf (possibly with @175viatribunali)

Timber Rafting

Some kind of Cowboy experience. (not Brokeback Mountain.)

A snowshoe hike.

Explore the west coast of Scotland in a powered rib

Ride in a submarine

Try Morris Dancing (possibly with @ChristianHambly)

Have my portrait painted (with @PaulOz)

Spend a night alone in a haunted house

Fly in a hot air balloon

Go deep sea fishing (possibly with with @ChristianHambly)

Invent a cocktail

Get a Tattoo

Compile a list of achievements.

Celebrate St Patricks Day in Ireland (Possibly with @AgaKreglewska and Residence.ie)

Learn to hot wire a car

Drive a tank (possibly with with @Greenape)

Have a go at blacksmithing

Make my own knife

Drink a Bellini in Harry’s Bar (Done: Blog post to come)

Ride out to the Ace Cafe for pie (10th June for Triumphs 110 anniversary. With @SimFin)

Attend a Sci-Fi Convention (Done: Blog post to come)

Volo dell’Angelo (Flight of the Angels)

Visit a Cider Bar (possibly with with @Jamesmb)

Help man a lifeboat

Visit the Triumph Motorcycle factory

Brew my own beer in a micro brewery (With Draycott Brewery)

Learn to play Poker with a professional (arranged by @Ilicco)

Ride the tallest/fastest roller coaster in the UK

Customize a Motorbike (Done)

Load up a motorbike and go camping

Get a tailor made suit

See the Aurora Borealis

Travel on the Orient Express (Done: Blog post to come)

Learn about audio and acoustics in relation to field recording.

Write a letter to someone I admire and respect.

Spend an entire day offline reading a novel

Volunteer for a day

Spend a night in an Occupy camp

Learn Beekeeping

Make something on a 3d printer

Learn how to Yodel (Done: Blog post to come)

Go Tobogganing

Go Bat Watching

Blend my own whisky

The Storify showing the roots of how this list came about is linked here: Storify.com/documentally/40-at-40

Celebrate the Mundane

Documentally — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 11:01:00 +0000

I could make a quick coffee in the morning. I have a quality bean to cup machine that can grind, brew and pour a fresh cup in no time at all.

I prefer the ritual of hand grinding though.

While I weigh, grind & shape a cone of coffee grounds in a pre-heated dripper, I can’t help but feel solace in that moment.

Nothing else exists.

We have so many rituals in our life but doing something in a ritualistic way, can become systematic, automatic and before you know it the day has gone & you don’t remember living it.

Rituals give us a sense of security or certainty and of course this is very comforting but when you are present in what you are doing, you are recognising the meaning in that moment.

When sat in the maelstrom of your working day, lost in the feeds, trying to make sense out of the noise, don’t judge the person sharing their cup of coffee or their lunch. As is often said, “It’s the little things.”

“What we call little things are merely the causes of great things; they are the beginning, the embryo, and it is the point of departure which, generally speaking decides the whole future of an existence. One single black speck may be the beginning of a gangrene, of a storm, of a revolution.”
~Henri Fredreric Amiel

One single black coffee, and its creation, empties my mind, restores focus and clears a path towards.. I hope.. great things.

Celebrate the Mundane. There’s meaning there if you want to find it.

On Air Sign

Documentally — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:21:00 +0000

Certainly one of my favourite gifts over Christmas was my LED lit ‘On Air’ sign. It arrived via international post just in time and yesterday I received the customised front you see in the photo saying ‘documentally ON AIR.’

So I don’t have to get up and switch on the mains power adapter, I’ve bought a remote controlled mains plug. This allows me to turn up to four devices on and off from the comfort of my desk.

When not being photographed, the sign sits in the window of my Garden office @Docuden facing out and warns those approaching that I’m ‘on air’ and not to disturb until the light goes out. I may be streaming live video, recording audio into Audioboo, or recording video to edit later. It has also come in handy when being interviewed on the phone.

It certainly looks less suspicious than a ‘Do Not Disturb, I’m in the shed.’ sign.

The Do Lectures (Revisited in Audio)

Documentally — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 13:41:18 +0000

This five part mini series of Audioboo’s were compiled, edited and enhanced with music by Mark Cotton aka @MCFontaine You can find out more about Mark here: http://about.me/mcfontaine

I blogged about the Do Lectures in detail after I attended in September 2011. You can get more detail here: ourmaninside/do-lectures

For a glimpse into some of the moments and conversations please take a few moments to listen below.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

..and here are a few images from my Flickr stream

If you would like to subscribe to my Audioboo’s in iTunes please CLICK HERE

Wetting the babies head.

Documentally — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:44:03 +0000

My late Mother bought me this malt and I saved the last drop to drink to the safe arrival of our little girl.

As I know very few people in this part of the country, I sit here with the family asleep upstairs, raising my glass to my little girl, to you, and all the Mothers of the world and what they do.