Me and Jimmi

Author,yea Author
Do you ever wonder when waiting at Town hall for your 'train a comin' what Jimi Hendrix might eventually have made of it had he lived? No. Then do you like me suspect that if he hadn't died young and beautiful he would by now be a fat Elvis like Liberace (sorry Sue) fodder only for gossip mags. Let's face it he already had a taste for bling. Sometimes it's better for our heroes to die young. Sometimes it's the making of their heroics. Can you imagine wearing a tee shirt bearing the image of eighty year old Che who would surely by now bear some resemblance to his onetime comrade Fidel, exposed recently by his beneficiaries with sparse crinkly hair and flaking skin to assure us of his aliveness.

If you haven't yet learnt it by then old age will teach you. Young and vigorous will spend the entire day hiding and making excuses even if it means locking themselves in a toilet cubicle rather than work. Older ones actively seek work letting the routine of it distract them from their lack of vigour as they attempt to dispatch the day. Same motivation, same result, all vigour exhausted.

I've never been able to learn anything, at least not from teachers of meditation, Italian or any of that schooled stuff. (Which reminds me of a book Alice gave me for Father's Day called 'Eat Pray Love'. Poor speller that I am I wondered why a cook book for venison or quail was an appropriate gift for me.) I was better at learning by watching, examining made things, maybe even pulling them apart. This worked well in my chosen field of building but didn't work for classics like Philosophy or Latin. I spent most of my life thinking there was this teacher who could 'learn me' if you'll forgive this sort of ESL language. Age has taught me that whilst there are many who draw their wage and pensions under the auspices of teacher there are few with the skill. I was privileged to be taught by one, maybe two though perhaps the other was just a good actor. Then again maybe a good actor is a good teacher especially if your studding acting.

My experience in time and age has shown me that there are few if any experts and teachers of expertise are even thinner on the ground. There are a number of gifted amateurs Jimi Hendrix amongst them who if you care to read his Wikipedia profile was far short of one in control of his own expertise as surely an expert must be.

Without intending then to compare myself to Hendrix bear with me now as I blow my own trumpet a little. It's rare for one who resisted the grandiose bridges and sky scrapers in their career of building to ever witness how their structures resisted the perils of wear and tear and time. I would estimate that at least ninety percent of what I built was on-sold by the client within a year of completion and soon re-renovated to the taste of the new owner. So it was that while strolling in Enmore this sunny Sunday afternoon I was to be very pleasantly surprised. Coming down Station Street a good walking shortcut from King Street to Enmore Road I wondered again which was the terrace I had worked on. Close enough to the spot I asked a bloke was spreading cement into cracks in his front fence did he live here and how long. Yes he did for twenty five years. "Oh!" I said dismissing him as having any potential as my client who naturally would have sold and moved on years ago. "why do you ask?" he said and I explained that I had done work on one of these houses years ago and went on in my loquacious way to briefly describe floors and banister rails. Now the cement spreader began to pay attention, stood, looked me in the eye and said "who are you?". I told him my name and he said "I've been looking for you". I took a deep breath and somewhat comforted that it was at least three times longer than the seven year expiry date to any statute of limitations I had ever heard of, asked "what went wrong?"

Of course as it's my work were talking about here, nothing went wrong, he merely wanted to congratulate me, and along with his friends wanted me to do more. "Come in and have a look and I'll get your number" Now Stephen had not been the run of the mill client. A hairdresser and Friend of my mate Richard Shara he was responsible for Janes wedding hairdo. He had strong convictions of his own about renovations. We replaced completely the floor at ground level resetting bearers and joists and repairing peers and ventilation. We secret nailed a new Raman (the flooring used in bowling alleys almost thirty millimetres thick) floor and fit new traditional skirtings. It now looks even more beautiful than ever. He wanted me to perform radical works on his traditional stair rails and newel posts and I resisted. He wanted the spindles completely removed leaving only the rail which he wanted to bend at the bottom and return to the floor in its rail shape. I explained that all I could do would be highly experimental and that I did not want to bear the burden of its failure but still he persisted. I acquiesced, conducted this experimental procedure and was rewarded by the result which was graceful smart and sound. These railings (there are two) are as sound as ever and miraculously show not the slightest sign of cracks around joints in what could be the original paintwork. This was exciting enough for me but Stephen was much more anxious to show me how built-ins in two upstairs rooms that I hadn't even remembered were as good as ever even though being too over stuffed and loaded.

Now Stephen was obviously meticulous and except for overstuffing, would have been kind to these renovations but in fact they have withstood the rigours of tenants for twenty years of their life whilst Stephen made a fortune in Paris. Is that alright Jimmi.

Robert