Oh, hi. It’s me, Phill.

Health, Personal, Travel, Uncategorized

Since I recently updated my ancient Facebook account (I only look at it once or twice a year — Marketplace.) At any rate, probably best not to post anything to me there. I’m on Instagram as well if you’d like.

Since we’ve already had a lot of folks joining us here that I haven’t spoken to in quite a while, I thought I’d do a little bit of a catch up. (Yeah, this is going to be a very long post. I’ll intersperse some photos.)

J and I now live in Westchester, in a charming downtown, short walking distance from the train station and less than an hour from midtown Manhattan. A few blocks from the Hudson River. We bought this 1100 ft.² 3/1 project-house cottage just about six years ago.

The original part of the house was built in the 1840s, it was extended in the 1880s, and I’ve been renovating since we moved in.

It is truly my avocation. When we bought it, the first thing I did was tear the front room of the house off and rebuild the original covered porch. Every board, rail, and post — hand cut, all wood, all me, no pre-fab whatsoever.

The day we closed, and a few months later.

There was a big initial construction push; but then … two bouts of cancer, several operations, and finally a quadruple 10-hour operation with four Columbia specialists last July. This sidelined reno for about three years. I have my challenges, but I am absolutely fine now. I am nearing a year in complete remission. I’m officially disabled with the tag, parking spot in front of the house, etc. But, you probably wouldn’t know it just to look at me. It’s a neuropathy and chronic fatigue situation, besides the fact that they removed a lot of my insides. (Seriously.)

Renovations resumed just recently in full! While we were on vacation, we had our close friend, nextdoor neighbor, and contractor tear down the 1 inch thick plaster-and-lathe ceiling in the large kitchen to expose the huge 180-year-old beams. (This was something I was never going to do on my own. Too big, awful, and unpleasant.) I’m now in the process of doing all the finishing work and putting the kitchen back together the way we want it. Very cottage-core, or course. The work is challenging, very creative, very satisfying, and I’ve learned to pace myself. Updates will come on that soon. It’s looking gorgeous.

I am, as always, a Director of Music and Organist at a local church, which I love. I’ve been there six years as well. My friends there were an enormous help during my very serious health challenges. I also teach piano and other instruments privately, but I’m very selective about who I teach, and only have seven students over three days, 30 minutes each.

I suppose if I haven’t spoken to you in quite a while, I’ve also developed quite a travel bug. I was in London a few months ago, we were in the Catskills a week ago, I’m in Orlando in a week and a half, and in July I’m visiting my mom for a week in Tampa.

While I’m in Tampa, our contractor is tearing out the fiberglass tub/shower situation and putting in a huge, deep, wide tub. Also tiled walls, and vintage shower fixtures. (The tub will be a big help for me. One of the things that helps me most is doing my PT exercises while in hot/warm water.)

Who knows what August will bring!? =)

Spring Fling(s)

Arts and Crafts, Home and Renovation, Travel

OMG.

That was a helluva two weeks, preceding Easter and the week after. (A helluva few months, if I’m honest.) I finally got back up to snuff early last week, and we just got back from the Catskills.

I’m at Walt Disney World (as usual) next month, and visiting my family in Tampa for a week in July. Let the vacations begin!

The cottage we rented in the Catskills was wonderful. Certainly, there was no skiing or climbing mountains; but there was plenty of antique shopping! Terrific prices at a few antique malls we found, and I didn’t go too too crazy … and my wonky leg warned me when it was time to stop!

The only really guilty pleasure purchase was a 3×5′ early-Victorian (actual) Persian rug. Most everything else was knickknacks — but more on that later, in another post.

While we were gone, our neighbor and general contractor took down our plaster-and-lathe kitchen ceiling, exposing the gorgeous gigantic beams. They’re about 4″ x 10″ and around 180 years old.

This was a job I was never going to do myself. It’s technically easy work, but 1″ thick plaster is very heavy, and it has to be carried outside, put in a truck, and taken to the dump. Plus, almost 200 years of dirt, literal soot, and plaster dust. Nope. And I can’t imagine what the 1″ plaster ceiling of a 20′ x 10’+ kitchen would weigh. I mean, it’s essentially limestone. More on all that a bit later as well. I have a little work to do to clean the beams up. Here’s a preview though —

(I love to think that the last guy that saw this huge beam was pre-Civil War, looking at it in about 1846.)

It was a great week, indulging in pastimes and just relaxing otherwise. Here’s the pics!

I’ve Been Air-BnB-ed

Fiascos, Travel

Very amusing story actually.

We reserved an Airbnb for a week in May, based on it being listed as “secluded” and a “cabin in the woods.” Today I read the detailed stuff they eventually later send.

We’d wanted something without other people and noise around, both for peace and quiet and the sanity of the two dogs.

Turns out this “cabin in the woods” has another unit over top it, and another on the other side of a wall. Eli only barks if there’s something to bark about, but if there’s a group upstairs enjoying a football game or an excited gathering on the other side of a wall, he’s going to bark.

I messaged the host to ask what he thought about the situation. He said the other spaces weren’t booked, but they might be, so barking and noise could be a problem. He also told me the reason they’ll probably be booked is because they’re hosting an artists retreat that week. Oh, and you’re not allowed to use the fireplace. (Weird, as it’s featured in the photos.) As you can see, this had rapidly turned into exactly the situation I did not want.

So, I said I’m very sorry for the trouble, I canceled, and I got a full refund. I immediately booked a charming cottage-cabin on the other side of the Hudson, on forested land in the Catskills with no one else around, a big claw foot tub, a fireplace, and a private gazebo with a grill. Perfect!

Then the original host’s wife then messages me, and asks if she could transfer us to one of their more secluded cabins up in the woods without neighbors, and if we liked, we could walk down to the artists retreat anytime we liked.

Welp. It was a little too late for that. I can almost hear her saying to her husband, “You just turned away a week’s booking in the bigger space and let a composer and a writer go during a week when we’re having an artist’s retreat.” I’m going to assume she’s the brains when it comes to the business.

Still. I love the new place we found in the Catskills. And it’s owned by theatre folk. Photos below!

London January 2025 #7

London, Mobility, Travel

Today is Dishpan Day — All the photos that were sitting left over from yesterday and before! I’ll caption each so we know what we’re looking at.

It Evens Out

Getting to and settled in the airport hotel was a bit of a chore, but then, that’s why I loathe Heathrow. Some people were great, a few were awful. I used my Gett app to call a black taxi, and it had arrived in the time it took me to grab my suitcase and walk out the front door. My Cabbie was awesome, and we had a great conversation about the US and UK on the way to my train at Paddington. Heathrow Express took me to the airport in 15 minutes, where driving would’ve taken over an hour.

It’s a perfectly nice airport, but it’s gigantic. It reminds me of Boston Logan, except more sprawling and way far from the actual city you’re visiting. I might have to switch airlines to Nordic, who fly into Gatwick. I wonder if they have a rewards card. Or I’ll just start going to the tropics, since JetBlue flies to multiple destinations from Westchester Airport.

I left the first hotel at 11, got to Paddington about 12, grabbed a sandwich, got to Heathrow about 1 o’clock, and the airport hotel about 230. The disability helper dudes at Heathrow were absolutely wonderful. Still took forever, but they were so helpful!

There was a couple with six kids and lots of gigantic luggage on the shuttle bus. Seriously — the amount of luggage was truly shocking.

They were sitting in all of the labeled and marked disabled seats (with open seats up the two steps behind them), and had all their baggage stacked in a monumental teetering tower in the other flip-down wheelchair/disabled row. Did they move or offer? Of course they didn’t. They watched me stand with a cane and a rolling suitcase, falling twice (sideways) against the luggage rack while the bus humped and bumped and tilted speedily coursed around the airport ramps.

Their luggage was stacked in the area directly in front of my foot.

I could’ve enforced it, but it was a short trip and I couldn’t be bothered. By the time I got the driver involved and they’d moved, it would’ve been almost over anyway. You wanna be the asshole? Fine with me. A girl behind them apologized to me on their behalf after they got off.

All this aside, a nice surprise was waiting at the end of the journey! I don’t know whether it’s because I’m a member of their hotel club or whether I’m nice and I have a stick. Whichever, I was upgraded to an executive room, which is very comfortable. Very nice hotel too — excellent room service, restaurant, Starbucks, and pizza place inside the lobby, very friendly staff, everyone super helpful. I’m impressed.

I got here later than I would have liked, but check in being 2 PM, I would’ve paid more to arrive earlier anyway. It will be a nice spa day very much including room service and that amazing looking shower.

It is so nice to know I will have a comfortable night and then get on a shuttle that will drop me at my airport terminal in 10 minutes time.

*IHG Rewards? A good attitude, plus the cane?*

Here come the random photos!

Shakespeare’s Globe, in its current position.

*The Globe* interior, via AboutBritain.com

My 14GG John Collett curiously bought the land that The Globe was put on top of at exactly the time Burbage and Shakespeare lost their lease in Smithfield and were looking to move. Plus, the families knew each other.

Why on earth would prosperous wool merchant John (who had probably never even been to London) suddenly buy London land perfect for a theater? It would be like a successful Kansas farmer who’d never left his hometown suddenly buying a lot in 1870s New York City to build a telegraph office. It’s weird.

Anyhow, they took down the old Playhouse, salvaged the expensive beams and anything else of value, and barged it all over to the new site. (They did not do it overnight, despite the legend. That’s silly. It took a few months.)

Big Ben Trapped! (Actually, big Ben is the name of the bell. Not the tower.)

From the airport, Good night to you too! Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow for a few final thoughts about the trip in general.

London January 2025 #6

Fiascos, Health, London, Mobility, Personal, Travel, UK

It was Westminster Abbey day!

Hooo … am I tired! Tomorrow I’m off to the airport hotel, which sounds dreary, but it will be very nice. It’s supposed to be a quite decent hotel, and it’s attached directly to the airport. This way, I’m already there for my flight the next day, no rushing, no public transportation issues, another spa day.

A foggy, wet day; but no actual rain. Just a light wetting-you mist. Well, ya know. Fog.

“A foggy day in London Town
Had me low and had me down
I viewed the morning with alarm
The British Museum had lost its charm.”

A bit of a rant today concerning the visit. It’s an entertaining and surprising rant, but if you’d like to skip it, just scroll down to the photos.

Lots of walking and standing today, and I’d have to say unfortunately, Westminster Abbey does disabilities very poorly. I went 15 minutes before opening, and after I’d walked around the large yard to get to the main entrance line. The employee out front sort of talked in circles when I asked whether there was a disabled entrance. I was tired of asking about it (and I was already there), so I waited in the line with the normals. They opened at 9:30 on the mark, but all the folks that worked there already seemed very much “on guard.”

When I didn’t want a free tour headset, the person-wearing-a-robe kept going on and on about it. After two or three go-rounds, her last sentence to me was, “But why don’t you have an audio guide?” Um, hello? I guess they don’t like people to refuse headsets. Maybe we try to talk to them too much otherwise. That impression was further confirmed as the day progressed.

Of all of the places I’ve visited in the past week, The Abbey staff has been the least friendly/helpful by far. And I’m not even very needy or demanding. The Docklands Museum and Southwark Cathedral absolutely both destroy Westminster Abbey in this respect. (I should mention, I had a very nice conversation about Jenny Lind with the lovely young headset-collector woman in Poets’ Corner.)

Later, after saying the same thing three or four times to different docents before they “got” what I was talking about, I realized they’re programmed to parrot this and that, and prefer not to be bothered; that I couldn’t possibly have anything useful or interesting to mention. In one instance, I mentioned a fact about some burials in the Stuart aisle of the Lady Chapel. She disagreed. I told her she should really read her very own Dean Stanley’s book … he documented all the royal burials in the mid-1800s.

At one point, I really needed to sit down (or fall down) for a while. I explained to a verger/docent/person. She told me I had to walk all the way around to get the 24 inches forward to where she was standing next to the chairs, rather than just picking up the rope hook for literally two or three seconds.

I was briefly in the vicinity of one absolutely hysterical docent — every time you took a step towards him, he either exaggeratedly turned his head the other way or walked to another corner. (For real. I tried it a few times to make sure. LOL)

This kind of crap filters down through the layers, and of course, as they’ll often remind you, this is first and foremost, a place of worship. As a career churchy myself, to say I was less-than-impressed is a gross understatement. And I’m looking at you, Dean Hoyle.

That’s plenty of complaining for today! Let’s look at some awesome pictures! I took dozens and dozens, so we’ll just do the highlights here.

I guess I can now say that I was once in the quire at Westminster Abbey

Chaucer’s tomb. Interestingly, he was not interred here as a great poet, but due to his job as an upper-level government functionary.

QEI — The lady, the myth, the legend. (She’s not in the box. She’s stacked in the crypt underneath below the floor, with her sister Queen Mary. Elizabeth is on top. Poetic justice.

Remarkably preserved medieval paintings!

I’m a bit of a scholar on the subject, I’ve done my own research, I’ve read Dean Stanley’s book(s) at least two or three times, and I’ve been to the Abbey in person several times, this being my last.

Yes, sure, I felt a little unwelcome. Big deal. However, combined with feeling physically uncomfortable without any way of helping myself, I don’t need to return. There was an Evensong later in the day I’d considered, but I hopped on the boat for an afternoon cruise instead.

One of the crew came over to me (a few of them know me by now) to mention that a more comfortable window seat had just opened up on the starboard side, and I realized that I felt very much more welcome on the Uber Boat than inside Westminster Abbey.

Eh. Can’t win ’em all.

Sit Still Phill

Incidents involving antiquity, travel, renovation, and music.

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