THE GOOMB

 In my first night's sleep after being hospitalised for smoke inhalation in 2009, I had three very vivid dreams. I recorded the details of them as best as I could when I woke up, with illustrations, and here's one of them:

 

 "The freighter that picks me up from the Ice flow is manned by tall silver men with long waterproofs, square heads but aquiline profiles, smooth black dishes for ears and receding chrome spirals on the head. Maybe the cube swivels to accomodate the face. Anyway a nice kind image. THE GOOMB-MEN"

 

 I don't know where I got the name "Goomb" from, but they stayed with me. I tried to put them in a Mitchell And Webb sketch later that year (it was never filmed, maybe I submitted it too late), and I was still contemplating casting them as saviours in some children's book or other until today, when I was knocked sideways to see this image pop up on pinterest: 

 

 

 This is a two-headed Martian from the Twilight Zone story "Mr. Dingle the Strong", an episode I have no recollection of ever seeing. Their heads aren't exactly cubes, and their ears aren't exactly dishes, and their antennae aren't exactly spirals, but that's the Goomb alright, right down to their cheekbones. The clincher for me is that, while I describe them as "silver" in the notebook, I actually dreamt them in black and white.

 Emailing that sketch to Gareth Edwards back in December 2009, I wrote: 

"Hopefully you might find some joy – far too late as it is – in this sketch about aliens I mentioned ages ago, and then didn't write because it seemed you had loads about aliens, and now have written simply because it might turn out to be the very-odd-but-actually-useable sketch I have so far failed to produce." 

 And now UPDATE (April 27th 2023) It looks like it might actually be used now! All hail the Goomb...

 

Notebookery: CITY and CITIZENS (1993ish)

 I need new shoes again, so I've been out less, the ground being wet, and in the evenings I've been winding down in front of youtube, sometimes for seven hours or more, so my thoughts are a little unravelled. Don't worry though, good times are being had, I just don't want to post too many youtube recommendations on here because I know some of you have lives to be getting on with. Here's another notebook then. These pages are from my A-level Art project, on a subject of my choosing. I can't tell if London looks different now or not, apart from the crowds; I wish I'd taken more photographs of the south bank, back when it was scrubland to the east of Blackfriars Bridge. I think the project got me a B. No. I know it did. But it hadn't yet been through a housefire, so didn't look nearly as handsome. It was almost definitely that kind of glibness that helped get me a B, now I think of it. 

 You should be able to click to enlarge these.

The Artists' Mews

 My tree was missing an angel. 

 Then Morgan got in touch today, and I made this, inspired by a significantly better picture he painted for me back in 2010 to welcome me into his home after the fire. Both of those links will take you to more pictures of Kato, the old Wanless Road cat. Morgan posted more images of her on instagram last weekend. He's taken care of and made work about her until the very end, which end was the subject of his message today. Morgan, I'm so sorry. And Kato, thank you for being an angel. For all I know, you took care of and made work about Morgan too. Rest In Power, Meeower.

Notebookery 9 (singed by the author)

 As I said yesterday, I found a whole other notebook while moving bits of the room around, so ta-daa. Like the green one, I clearly wanted this to be a thing I enjoyed returning to, a thing I would like to look at, and I finished it just before I started this blog. Big pre-lockdown cuddles must go to the friends who pulled its remnants out of the fire of 2009. Maybe there's a third I've forgotten about which burnt up entirely. While this was being filled I was touring Japan and the Middle-East and thinking about sketches and a writing maybe something bigger for kids, a standalone fantasy, called "Standalone". Unfinished. Unbegun. Not all the drawings are mine, and I'll post more tomorrow. (The first words we read "O ooo Jeremy Bottom" made me laugh, and as they were written in 2006 are also a complete mystery.)

Notebookery 1 (2002ish)

  I want to keep these posts coming, but I also feel quite like I want to take a week off, just to check on myself, so for the next few days this blog's just going to be photos of old notebooks. Today's, as far as I can tell, is from 2002. In addition to water some damage there are sketches for a book of tales I printed up, including Princess Plimsole and Fish-head and the Sibyl, and some notes for Shunt's show Dance Bear, Dance, which is how I dated it, but apart that this one turned out to be surprisingly blank. (Click to enlarge.)

"MORE MEN ARE USING MUMBLING AS A STEPPING-STONE TO HONEST COMMUNICATION"

"orthographical banter" 

 Last year - I can't remember when but it was clearly hot - the writer Chris Power and I were invited onto the excellent podcast of Postcards from the Past curator Tom Jackson. You can hear it here, and can see which postcards we brought along here. According to Tom "this is a lively one", and I do appear to have a lot on my mind, but I had a lot of fun unloading it (and got a great introduction) so thank you, Tom and Chris. (I wonder if Chris has worked out by now who either Wayne or Wendy were.)

My Heart So Full and These Empty Hands

 I found this on my phone from 2018. I also note that I wrote next to nothing in 2019. And now in 2020 every second post on F*c*book is a link to the Australian fundraiser: "Please help any way you can. This is terrifying", but this isn't F*c*book, so here are some happinesses. Firstly:

 Watching Greta Gerwig's "Little Women" is like watching the Beatles. Anyone wanting to spend two hours in a room full of kindness should find a screening. Secondly:

 Robbie Hudson wrote the first show in which I appeared with John Finnemore "Frankenstein and the Sharks of Doom", a Mighty Fin Musical with songs by Susannah Pearse. The first time I performed John's writing was another Mighty Fin Musical with songs by Susannah Pearse "Diary of a Nobody", which was also the first time I worked with Carrie Quinlan. Mighty Fin Musicals are excellent amateur dramatics is what I'm trying to prove here, and "Farm" was the Mighty Fin's first, and it's being staged again this week with all proceeds going to charity as is the point of Mighty Fin. Tickets are on sale here and other Mighty Fin merch is here. Robbie also characteristically co-wrote with Johnny Flynn a folk musical about the Magnitsky act which aired last night, and can be heard here. Thirdly:

 I was hoping to be in "Farm" myself, but another happiness occured and I was asked to play an excellent role in an excellent TV show this Friday instead, and I've just received the call sheet and my mate Ned Mond's in the episode too, so this Friday should be amazing. But that's the end of the happiness, and Friday will not be amazing because on Friday my friend Morgan is finally being evicted from Seaview, his home of forty years, and mine for three.

 I can only say again what I said in February. He helped save my life and took me in when I needed a place, and there was no one he didn't take in. His work is as generous as he is and I hate this. If I'd ever learnt a second language I'd probably run screaming from the English-speaking world right now, but I never even did that, and I've just landed a telly, speaking of which the photograph of John Logie Baird came from here. Apart from that I have no idea what to say that is both true and happy about this thing I desperately want to say something about. Morgan made a book that's very happy though, and you can buy it here.

  

 Oh, one thing I can say: Morgan shared this video on F*c*book as well, and it reminded me that I don't look at nearly enough cartoons on youtube. I love monsters and it made me very happy - it's very him - and Morgan, if you're reading this I love youse too. Everyone else, have a happy and maybe helpful week. Here's a million monsters:

help (noun)

I thought this was ten years ago. Actually the fire happened on the 8th. Huh. It was painted by Morgan, the next door neighbour who heard Dan's cries for help while I was unconscious from smoke inhalation on the ground floor. That's Dan in the window. Residents of South London, from Brixton to Waterloo to London Bridge to One Tree Hill, might recognise from this some of Morgan's other great works, on shop fronts, shutters, electricity boxes, bins, murals, the Imperial War Museum, and the totem pole on Peckham Rye. And friends and blog readers with excellent memory will know that I moved into his house and found a lot to be very happy about. I started writing "Time Spanner" there, and imagined Martin and Graham living somewhere similar. It's the only home Morgan's ever known, and then last November, on my birthday in fact - the anniversary of Laika's first and only flight into space - I learnt that Lambeth Council were evicting him from it after forty years. It was his mother's council house, and his mother didn't live there any more. That's why I mention it. There was a fund to help him, a legal fund, and the legal fight may now be lost, but Morgan might be homeless this Winter is my point, and he helped save my life what I thought but now realise having checked wasn't ten years ago, and he took in everyone, and I love him, and money might still be useful. If you'd like to donate, go here.

In other words, this call to donate to an "artist's resistance fund" was posted too late. But there's a lot of bad news going round and I couldn't bring myself to add to anyone's fat upload of online grief at the time. So, sorry if that's all this news has done. But Morgan makes me happy, and an introduction to his work is always, I hope, a little like a chink of light. Heavens know we all deserve better, but Morgan most. Here.

And, you know, everywhere. That's a bin.

June 2013 - Beeb

In the event of a fire:

Just follow the orraws.

May 2013 - Remnants

May - Nunhead. After the moving, the unboxing. 

 This is four years' worth of shoes - every shoe I bought or was given since the fire of 2009.  When a pair became unwearable I would chuck them under the bed. (I seldom own more than one pair of wearable shoes, never more than two). When I moved to Nunhead, I found out how many that came to. It's this many:

Eat your heart out, Imelda Marcos. All now occupy a pile in the house's Nightmare Room... I do wonder sometimes how good a housemate I really am.