Roll Over Max Jaffa

Homework, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

My next project: a recently acquired single string phonofiddle. Made somewhere between 1910 and 1930. Manufacturer (as yet) unknown. There is the remains of a torn paper label below the soundbox which although unreadable is sufficent to recognise if I see another complete one. It was found in the back of a dryish garage.

The string which is played with a fiddle bow sits against a soundbox at its base which amplifies the sound through a horn. Homemade ones were often made utilising the soundboxes (and horns) from phonagraphs. This one, which appears commercially made, connects the string to the mica diaphragm of the soundbox using a piece of cork.

Whats wrong: It is missing its horn. The body is in terrible cosmetic condition. The soundbox needs attention; the mica diaphragm is fine but the pieces of rubber that hold it in place although still intact have perished and become hard thus losing the necessary pliability to offer the best sound. The cork which should be attached to the diaphragm (?using beeswax?) has dropped off. Five woodworm holes in the wood of the body although these appear to be old. It is currently strung with what appears to be a plastic string from a child's toy ukelele.

What next: Acquire a reproduction Phonagraph horn. These are available in brass, enamalled tin and aluminium. Attend to the wooden body. Fix and tune the soundbox. String.

Questions I am minded to get a brass horn because it will look better than an aluminium one. Will the weight make it impractical to use? The price difference is only about seven pounds. Which will sound better?
Which is the best violin string to use?
Anyone done up one of these?
Any tips?
Anyone recognise the manufacture from the remains of the label?

What after that: Learn to play and become a rock god. After all if Norfolk's own Bruce Lacey could play one in legendary band The Alberts I can surely do it too.

Colonel Blinks Bad Trip

Truly unseen Beatles, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

Picture the Colonel on a pavement by the YMCA taking photographs of that building ("Just a plain photograph of the front of the building Nothing arty" I had been commanded) when I noticed all these toys in the window of the St Giles Gallery.

I had forgotten that they had an exhibition of photographs of the Fab Four called The Unseen Beatles taken by newshound Frank Herman in 1967. The window featured modern toys from the the 1968 animated children's film "Yellow Submarine" which the Beatles had little or nothing to do with and the display seemed to be more about 21st Century eBay marketing than about Herman's wonderful and revealing photographs.

What I did like was St Giles Street reflected in the strong colours of the window and I took a photograph and then another one of a balloon. Big mistake.

"Can I HELP you............Sir?" This guy in a purple t-shirt had run out of the shop and was looming over me, speaking very loudly.

"um. yes. well I was just taking a picture of er your window" I said

His hand rested on his hip and his lip curled "You should have asked first" he said and with that he spun round and walked away.

"I was just coming in to have a look" I said to his back but the slamming of the shop door hid my words.

Now I knew how the Apple Scruffs felt. On reflection I decided that I would wait a month or so before I visited the exhibition. As I trudged down St Giles Street I found myself singing one of the fabs most famous songs "All You Need Is Cash".

This photograph is my 1000th entry into the Norwich flickr pool.

What Sally was doing in the Alley

Sua é uma ofensa a Urinate nesta maneira pública da aléia, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

I find it reassuring that Norfolk County Council decided to put this sign up in three languages because it has been constantly preying upon my mind that continental types are taking cheap flights into Norwich International Airport merely to urinate up the back passages of Norwich Citizens - and everyone knows their wee smells different to ours.

From Our Show Business Correspondent

Change Of Career, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

To stay ahead in show business you have to continually reinvent yourself. He has an extraordinary ability to naturally talk in soundbites. He told me (with a Norwich accent)

"They can't call me The Puppet Man no more cuz I'm the Karaoke Man. I think it do a bit better. Only thing is I can't remember all the words so I have to put my own in"

The Last Ride

Surlingham Ferry From The Postwick Side, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

My grandfather used to boast that he was the last person to ever use Surlingham Ferry. It happened this way.

He was a doctor and while acting as a locum in the 1960s he was called out after midnight on a stormy night to attend a woman in Surlingham who had just gone into labour. He arranged for Tom Ellis (the son of local naturalist Ted Ellis) to row him across the ferry. Halfway over they noticed that the boat was filling up with water in a way that could not be attributed to the torrential rain. As they stepped out of the dinghy it sank into the water never to rise again. He sprinted up the road with soaking wet clothes and found that his patient had her baby without him. (She was mortified, he remembered, that the doctor had come round and the house was 'in a mess')

Me And The Devil

Postwick All Saints, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

The Parish Church of All Saints, Postwick. Postwick, as anyone in Norfolk will tell you, is pronounced POZZICK and interestingly enough the Domesday Book gives it a french spelling Possuic which suggests to me that the proper pronounciation was always thus. The spelling of the village name is probably the result of a fantasy of some early mapmaker.

This photograph is taken from the very spot upon which I was standing when at the age of nine my friend Alan Williams, told me that if I pointed my finger at a gravestone then my hand would turn black and rot away. I can still, after all these years, hear the shock in his voice as he warned me of my fate. Only washing it with holy water would save my arm he told me. Now Holy Water is not something readily available in Anglican Churchyards but after some thought we decided puddlewater from the graveyard would be just as good as it came from sacred ground. Due only to this use of muddy rainwater I am writing this entry with both my hands intact.

(Shamefacedly I must admit that even now I check myself if I should unthinkingly point my finger in a churchyard.)

Another related superstition from childhood that comes to mind was if a Bible fell on the ground three times then it was no longer holy and thus no use for swearing oaths, warding off vampires etc.. Indeed it could even be a malign influence and attract the very evil one hoped to avoid. The trouble was, I recall, that you could not tell a Holy Bible from an unholy one.

These and other tales made up a kind of secret annexe to the official religion we were taught at home and school and were only spoken of among ourselves and never never mentioned to adults.

From My Bedroom Window - Sunset Norwich Cathedral 05 05 07

From My Bedroom Window - Sunset Norwich Cathedral 05 05 07, originally uploaded by Colonel Blink.

I had decided in advance that I would take yet another photograph in my series From My Bedroom Window for the highly trailed flickr group Twenty Four Hours Of Flickr 05 05 07.

Came the day though the sky was overcast and as mundane as a view of a medieval cathedral steeple can be. :-)

The clouds began to clear in the late afternoon but I still could not get excited by what I was viewing through my lens. Just before Sunset the sky took on a rose hue as the sun dipped down behind Magdelan Street and I took this photo. After five seconds the sky returned to a more normal blue but I already had this photo.