When I grow up...

For the last few years, circumstances have brought about a situation whereby we have all been  subjected to almost intolerable levels of simultaneous boredom and fear. It's a strange and stressful  combination which will only become more intense as Easter approaches. I hope people don't start singing out of their windows in the evenings to come. I couldn't stand that on top of everything else.

I have just begun to get back on the rarified circuit of high-end sculptural and architectural activities, now that 25 years of working almost exclusively for J.D. - my best client ever - seems to have come to an abrupt end, and because my work usually involves being on my own - inside my workshop or outside - I don't think that the virus is going to affect me too severely unless, of course, I actually catch it. It's the office, shop, factory and public workers who will suffer the most.

A few months ago, before Christmas and when the reality of my personal circumstances became obvious, people suggested various large country houses and estates which I could offer my services to, but almost invariably they belonged to the National Trust, who have their own team of conservators and sculptors to do the work virtually in-house.

Cliveden Conservation takes care of all the stone and marble for the N.T. and has done ever since Trevor Proudfoot somehow ended up writing the rules for the stone conservation handbook of the United Kingdom Institute for Conservation, when conservation groups in general identified the need for good codes of practice to attempt to halt the widespread abuse of national monuments by crappy builders who refused to use anything other than Portland Cement and epoxy resins.

I have done some work as a sub-contractor for Cliveden in general and Trevor in particular, and I was one of the original members of the UKIC, but became disillusioned with the self-serving politics of some of its members, so when they quadrupled the annual subscription I didn't renew. Sadly, Trevor is now dead but his son has taken over as director.

What I need to survive as a specialist handyman in the world of traditional sculpture restoration/conservation/maintenance is medium to large, privately owned houses and estates. I cannot handle the large contracts which are fought over by the big boys and girls. My good friend Sally who runs a large conservation company once told me that they only considered contracts over about £50,000 to be worthwhile, but times change and with it circumstances.

I used to employ people on a casual basis when I had more work than I could handle on my own, and now I am beginning to do the same again wherever possible. I can't lift the weights now in any case.

A polite young man mixed concrete for me last week when I was installing a sculpture in the garden of a grand house near here. He turned up at the appointed time, I pointed at a pile of ingredients and a mixer and watched him turn it into concrete, barrow it to the site and pour it in.

When I grow up I want to be a consultant.

Re the above image: A friend of mine sent me this photo of my backyard, obviously taken in the 19th century. If you know the area you would be gobsmacked by the changes to the riverside and just beyond - I was. For instance, what did they do with that mini version of Silbury Hill with steps cut into its side?!