You can’t beat a shed. There’s even a Men In Sheds book. It’s on the shelf next to my copy of Dull Men of Great Britain (in which I am, surprisingly, not featured).
I went through a Mountain Men phase a few years back and I love the whole idea of bush craft/off grid, but no doubt in a romantic pantisocratic a la Thoreau sort of way. One can dream. When I was in my teens I went white water rafting in deepest rural Northern California, sleeping out in the open at night to the sound of distant coyotes. Bliss.
I haven’t actually read that one. I was more of a Burrougshead in my early 20s, although Kerouac’s ‘Desolation Angels’ was my favourite by him. My love of jazz is down to the Beats.
Closer to home, I have long had a fascination for plotlands – those subversive pre-planning incursions of the urban working class into the English countryside.
On the edge of my UK hometown there was a “plotland” community, though nobody called it that, houses of baffling variety and charming eccentricity, known as a refuge for Bolsheviks. Now I live in a country that is nearly entirely plotland. You can basically build your house as you want, out of anything, anywhere, and if it falls over then it’s your bad luck. I drew the plans for our handsome abode, gave them to a builder, et viola. We have no immediate neighbours, but for some reason a house number is required, so we went to an office in the “town hall” where they let us choose one, for good luck.
I’m considering your neck of the woods as a possible destination in the future as the West is clearly fucked. Spengler got it right, and it’s Kali Yuga of course. Edgar was on the cayce, clearly… (ha!).
*actually pronounced Cayce is in The Sunshine Band*
If you’re talking to me, Mr. Cat, it was called (and what a Proustian journey this took) The Riddings, in Coventry. Don’t look for it, it’s not there any more, except in name. It’s incorporated now, with paved roads, and last I was there the houses had all been replaced with standard pebbledash semis and the like. Nothing is as good as it was. Tell that to The Young People Today? Cuh. They don’t want to know.
That looks heavenly. The problem I would have is that I don’t really ‘do’ people much, and I could never join a commune. Oh no. I’m discerning when it comes to who I socialise with. It’s a wavelength/auric field thing.
Gnomes, Elves, Undines, Salamanders, Mermaids, The Gentry, The Shining Ones, The Immortals, Devas, Hepcats, Hipchicks…
My people! My homies! Climb aboard!
I’d just like to repeat this, because it’s such a splendid joke and should by rights have received some kind of gesture of approval, perhaps a ten shilling Postal Order or pen and pencil set.
I may regret this but in the interests of deciding to do this myself. How did you deal with the bodily functions, did you have tubes attached, or were you able to visit the cacatorium?
As I understand it, Hubes, Rob’s bodily waste accreted into a full-body cocoon. He retained a homeless person to keep his nostrils unblocked with a pencil.
I have taken to imagining in detail a stand-alone cottage at the back of my house with a juke box*, pool table, dart board, plush seating, TV and bar. A small pub, basically. I’d only do it if I had a surplus of money (unlikely) and my wife happily agreeing to it (also unlikely). Aside from that, I do like to hang out with my wife in the evenings so I can’t see me retreating to it after dinner without me feeling bad and her wondering what’s happened to us. So it’ll never happen – but thinking about the detail of it sends me to sleep..
*a hi-tech one, can’t be doing with a real one with records etc.
Victorian commode for especially cold days, Hubes, otherwise the cloakroom was a mere shuffle from the four poster. Pizzas delivered by moped (with quarter of an ounce of afghani) and six cans of tango.
Yes I do think an adjacent toilet room is necessary, rather than having to trudge into the house every time nature calls. You don’t ever see pub-style urinals in a domestic environment do you? I bet someone somewhere has an authentic French pissoir in their garden.
After his mother died my brother in law removed the seated toilet throne he had installed in his mother’s room and replaced it with a urinal . Decidedly odd.
In a radical break from tradition, Mrs thep has a girl shed. She got her son and her ex-husband to build it in the back yard when I was safely tucked away in England. (I’m exaggerating of course, I knew it was happening, and I’d commandeered the third bedroom for my office.)
It’s a very cute and comfortable bolthole, with power, internet, a day bed, plenty of 4G, a long desk with sewing machine set up at one end and computer at the other. It’s been an absolute godsend for working at home. She has to remember to shut the windows when she knocks off of course…
That sounds perfect. My fear is that in this country the Blue Meanies will do anything to restrict our domestic freedom for financial gain. They’ve even come for camper vans and the like, not just illegal camps on village greens etc.
On the subject of wood (…….), does anybody remember Veneer of the Week? There was a wood place on the North Circular, somewhere round Walthamstow, and they had a big sign so passing motorists could decide that Pale Honey Beech was exactly what they needed, and right now.
Whenever we set off round the NC the kids would excitedly wonder what the Veneer of the Week was. We knew how to enjoy ourselves in them days. All gone now, of course.
There was also a pest control company near Bounds Green on the North Circular (corner of Bowes Road and Brownlow Road) that used to have a Pest Of The Week display at their offices in a terrace of shops.
@mike_h yes! I’d forgotten that. I used to live in Bounds Green. I’d go and check out Pest of the Week when I went to the doc in Brownlow Rd. One or other of my children was occasionally awarded the title.
How lovely. Back when advertising could be charming. The quality of veneers these days, like gloss paint, is vastly inferior to the that of yore. Don’t even get me started on faux creosote. On the upside, I got a very good deal from the dodgers on a 5l can of Cuprinol dark oak. My decking is flaking.
Sub themes within a thread. Jazz and toilets. It’s a cosmic truth that cats are the reincarnation of jazz musicians, and vice versa, so hepcats and hipchicks, I present to you….
Rob_C says
Avoid Cup A Soup and Genesis reunion stuff on Youtube.
Twang says
No but related, I lust for a traditional US style log cabin. There is cabin porn on YouTube.
fentonsteve says
You can’t beat a shed. There’s even a Men In Sheds book. It’s on the shelf next to my copy of Dull Men of Great Britain (in which I am, surprisingly, not featured).
Boneshaker says
On a similar note, there is nothing to beat a lovely autumn afternoon, a brand new tin of Cuprinol, and the sound and smell of brush on shed.
fentonsteve says
When the rest of the country was watching Line of Duty, my FB friends were watching my #lockdownshed feed. Timber-based back-yard plot porn, it was.
Rob_C says
Misty September mornings! Brush in hand. Cool sounds on the Ipod. Bliss.
Rob_C says
I’ve got a wooden two storey store room, if that counts. Flat roof unfortunately, so it’s a bugger for leaks.
Rob_C says
I went through a Mountain Men phase a few years back and I love the whole idea of bush craft/off grid, but no doubt in a romantic pantisocratic a la Thoreau sort of way. One can dream. When I was in my teens I went white water rafting in deepest rural Northern California, sleeping out in the open at night to the sound of distant coyotes. Bliss.
Twang says
I read The Dharma Bums when I was 17 and it still stays with me.
Rob_C says
I haven’t actually read that one. I was more of a Burrougshead in my early 20s, although Kerouac’s ‘Desolation Angels’ was my favourite by him. My love of jazz is down to the Beats.
Twang says
I haven’t read it for years but I loved it.
Rob_C says
I’m going to now. Long overdue.
thecheshirecat says
Closer to home, I have long had a fascination for plotlands – those subversive pre-planning incursions of the urban working class into the English countryside.
Rob_C says
That’s a jolly nice pad. I love the riverside location. A boathouse on the Brandybuck no less.
retropath2 says
Whilst walking the West Highland Way, a couple of decades ago, came across this interesting community
http://www.carbethhutters.co.uk/code/gallery.html
H.P. Saucecraft says
On the edge of my UK hometown there was a “plotland” community, though nobody called it that, houses of baffling variety and charming eccentricity, known as a refuge for Bolsheviks. Now I live in a country that is nearly entirely plotland. You can basically build your house as you want, out of anything, anywhere, and if it falls over then it’s your bad luck. I drew the plans for our handsome abode, gave them to a builder, et viola. We have no immediate neighbours, but for some reason a house number is required, so we went to an office in the “town hall” where they let us choose one, for good luck.
Rob_C says
I’m considering your neck of the woods as a possible destination in the future as the West is clearly fucked. Spengler got it right, and it’s Kali Yuga of course. Edgar was on the cayce, clearly… (ha!).
*actually pronounced Cayce is in The Sunshine Band*
thecheshirecat says
Understand if you don’t feel inclined to post personal stuff, but which community was that? I have visited so many, but always like to learn more.
H.P. Saucecraft says
If you’re talking to me, Mr. Cat, it was called (and what a Proustian journey this took) The Riddings, in Coventry. Don’t look for it, it’s not there any more, except in name. It’s incorporated now, with paved roads, and last I was there the houses had all been replaced with standard pebbledash semis and the like. Nothing is as good as it was. Tell that to The Young People Today? Cuh. They don’t want to know.
Rob_C says
Oh for God’s sake. Mr Cat. It was burned down and the earth salted. Mr Craft is not telling the entire truth about his toad massaging salon.
thecheshirecat says
Thanks for that. Yup, any googling of The Riddings now just comes up with property websites.
Rob_C says
That looks heavenly. The problem I would have is that I don’t really ‘do’ people much, and I could never join a commune. Oh no. I’m discerning when it comes to who I socialise with. It’s a wavelength/auric field thing.
H.P. Saucecraft says
We understand, Rob. People don’t like you. It’s okay.
Rob_C says
Quite the opposite, dear heart. I never get any space, peace and quiet when I’m grooving around Glastonbury town, mushdude.
H.P. Saucecraft says
I said people, not gnomes and elves.
Rob_C says
Gnomes, Elves, Undines, Salamanders, Mermaids, The Gentry, The Shining Ones, The Immortals, Devas, Hepcats, Hipchicks…
My people! My homies! Climb aboard!
H.P. Saucecraft says
Devas Hepcat? Didn’t he write for The Word?
H.P. Saucecraft says
I’d just like to repeat this, because it’s such a splendid joke and should by rights have received some kind of gesture of approval, perhaps a ten shilling Postal Order or pen and pencil set.
“Devas Hepcat? Didn’t he write for The Word?”
fentonsteve says
Postie will soon be delivering your Blankety Blank chequebook and pen, HP.
H.P. Saucecraft says
*makes leg, flourishes kerchief*
Thank you, Mr. Steve. You are a gentleman. Unlike the other elderly yobboes and hedge-creepers.
thecheshirecat says
Carbeth. Yup. Read all about there, though never quite managed to swing by during my Caledonian bike rides.
Leffe Gin says
I like a good thick thatch.
Rob_C says
So do wasps. I’ve been lucky this year. I can’t get a decent trim until the sparrows fly to Jamaica in a few weeks.
H.P. Saucecraft says
Sparrows fly to the West Indies …
*waits*
Rob_C says
Well, they fly somewhere. The Maldives? The Arctic?
H.P. Saucecraft says
Jamaica?
Rob_C says
Hang on a mo. I’ll google it.
Rob_C says
Well, bugger my rags. They don’t migrate, at all! Where do they go then?
H.P. Saucecraft says
I’ll bet they go of their own accord, anyway … *sigh*
Rob_C says
Maybe they hibernate. I did once. Spent an entire winter in bed in Liverpool.
hubert rawlinson says
I may regret this but in the interests of deciding to do this myself. How did you deal with the bodily functions, did you have tubes attached, or were you able to visit the cacatorium?
H.P. Saucecraft says
As I understand it, Hubes, Rob’s bodily waste accreted into a full-body cocoon. He retained a homeless person to keep his nostrils unblocked with a pencil.
Mike_H says
That turned out to be hard work, Saucy. Didn’t it.
H.P. Saucecraft says
How does it smell?
Mike_H says
Orangutang.
Be thankful you didn’t tread in it.
Black Celebration says
I have taken to imagining in detail a stand-alone cottage at the back of my house with a juke box*, pool table, dart board, plush seating, TV and bar. A small pub, basically. I’d only do it if I had a surplus of money (unlikely) and my wife happily agreeing to it (also unlikely). Aside from that, I do like to hang out with my wife in the evenings so I can’t see me retreating to it after dinner without me feeling bad and her wondering what’s happened to us. So it’ll never happen – but thinking about the detail of it sends me to sleep..
*a hi-tech one, can’t be doing with a real one with records etc.
Rob_C says
That’s a lovely idea. Most modern pubs are ghastly. You’d have the perfect company. I never set foot in an establishment that requires bouncers.
Rob_C says
Victorian commode for especially cold days, Hubes, otherwise the cloakroom was a mere shuffle from the four poster. Pizzas delivered by moped (with quarter of an ounce of afghani) and six cans of tango.
Black Celebration says
Yes I do think an adjacent toilet room is necessary, rather than having to trudge into the house every time nature calls. You don’t ever see pub-style urinals in a domestic environment do you? I bet someone somewhere has an authentic French pissoir in their garden.
Moose the Mooche says
Isn’t an authentic French pissoir…. a wall?
hubert rawlinson says
Which reminds me of this Clochemerle 1972 BBC.
Rob_C says
Nous pissons partout l’homme!
hubert rawlinson says
After his mother died my brother in law removed the seated toilet throne he had installed in his mother’s room and replaced it with a urinal . Decidedly odd.
Black Celebration says
That is odd.
Of course, there are urinals and urinals.
You can have a nice white porcelain item designed for just the one tinkle at a time.
Or a large slab of grey metal so you can all pile in for a group piss.
Rob_C says
Odd indeed. Very odd.
Rob_C says
Bring back the Khazi say I. A bracing sub zero bowel movement would learn them.
Rob_C says
Mike H – are you and Saucy lovers?
H.P. Saucecraft says
*gives girlish toss of the head*
mikethep says
In a radical break from tradition, Mrs thep has a girl shed. She got her son and her ex-husband to build it in the back yard when I was safely tucked away in England. (I’m exaggerating of course, I knew it was happening, and I’d commandeered the third bedroom for my office.)
It’s a very cute and comfortable bolthole, with power, internet, a day bed, plenty of 4G, a long desk with sewing machine set up at one end and computer at the other. It’s been an absolute godsend for working at home. She has to remember to shut the windows when she knocks off of course…
Rob_C says
That sounds perfect. My fear is that in this country the Blue Meanies will do anything to restrict our domestic freedom for financial gain. They’ve even come for camper vans and the like, not just illegal camps on village greens etc.
H.P. Saucecraft says
Shutting the windows when you’re getting knocked off is essential, of course, with neighbours like yours, Mike.
mikethep says
On the subject of wood (…….), does anybody remember Veneer of the Week? There was a wood place on the North Circular, somewhere round Walthamstow, and they had a big sign so passing motorists could decide that Pale Honey Beech was exactly what they needed, and right now.
Whenever we set off round the NC the kids would excitedly wonder what the Veneer of the Week was. We knew how to enjoy ourselves in them days. All gone now, of course.
hubert rawlinson says
I once drove past a place called World of Wood, the last letter had fallen off though.
I thought that World of Woo was a better choice of destination.
Rob_C says
Indeed. Or The World Of Wu Wei. Get down with the Tao.
hubert rawlinson says
Or even without Research and Development the World of Ewa Woowa
Rob_C says
I’m at a total loss as to what you’re appertaining to, old thing.
hubert rawlinson says
With R D. it would be The World of Edward Woodward
Moose the Mooche says
World of Wu would have to have 38 departments – chambers, if you will
Mike_H says
There was also a pest control company near Bounds Green on the North Circular (corner of Bowes Road and Brownlow Road) that used to have a Pest Of The Week display at their offices in a terrace of shops.
Rob_C says
Love it. ‘Crotch Crickets’ perhaps?
mikethep says
@mike_h yes! I’d forgotten that. I used to live in Bounds Green. I’d go and check out Pest of the Week when I went to the doc in Brownlow Rd. One or other of my children was occasionally awarded the title.
Mike_H says
Only occasionally?
Such well-behaved brats.
Rob_C says
How lovely. Back when advertising could be charming. The quality of veneers these days, like gloss paint, is vastly inferior to the that of yore. Don’t even get me started on faux creosote. On the upside, I got a very good deal from the dodgers on a 5l can of Cuprinol dark oak. My decking is flaking.
Leffe Gin says
I’m sorry to hear about your decking. Have the wasps got in there as well? Probably need to see a specialist.
Rob_C says
It had a rat once. I tried to will it/charm it/meditate it to move on but alas that did become a job for a specialist.
Rob_C says
Sub themes within a thread. Jazz and toilets. It’s a cosmic truth that cats are the reincarnation of jazz musicians, and vice versa, so hepcats and hipchicks, I present to you….
https://www.charlesmingus.com/mingus/cat-traning-program !
Rob_C says