Heavy Metal

Some time in the past I have Blipped already about the so-called ‘Panopticon’ called The Singing Ringing Tree. You have to be a certain age to remember the odd East German Children’s film that this public artwork was named after. This series was so-often the recurring staple of our summer holiday morning TV throughout the 1970’s. It seemed pretty scary in those days, but of course not by our modern children’s standards.

Sadly, she didn’t feel like singing much today as I paid her a quick visit via a short detour on my drive home. Another chap visiting with his young daughter was disappointed too. Perhaps she had a “sweet spot” depending on the prevailing wind direction he wondered. On a good day, the welded scaffold tube sculpture resonates in the wind and moans eerily like a Whale-song. This of course, was the artists’ intention. With a bleak panorama behind of Pennine Lancashire, and with distant views to Pendle Hill, she sits here serenely overlooking the town of Burnley below.

My reason to be here was that I had spent the morning at the funeral of a work colleague called John Whitaker, held at the nearby Burnley Crematorium. He has been the construction Site Manager on a couple of my recent bigger house and swimming pool projects. Bit by bit we had got to know one another over the last few years. Most typically this getting to know one another had been over a shared instant coffee and a packet of Ginger Nuts, whilst sitting in his freezing site cabin - rather than any beers grabbed after work. Here, he would tell me tales of his past weekend motor biking, whilst I in retaliation would bore him senseless with tales of my dry fly fishing on rivers. Coincidently, via our separate hobbies, we once discovered a joint love of visiting The Strid on the Wharfe at Bolton Abbey.

Not a sad Coronavirus death his, but as totally unexpected and tragic just the same. John was only 58. From his first diagnosis of inoperable Cancer, to him passing was a matter of less than 2 weeks. I had been waiting on him coming home from hospital first before texting and calling him. I really regret waiting now.

Anyway, he had a really nice send off today, albeit limited by the necessary small gathering, that comprised close family, friends, builders and me. Rather aptly , the vicar was built like a heavy-set builder himself, and with his broad accent, dropped consonants all over the place to boot.  He read a really nice eulogy at the end, and then the service ended with a piece of music as the curtains drew. To my ears it sounded like an extreme Heavy Metal Grunge fusion. The chapel was rocking. I guess John was the true biker after all, and had the last laugh.

Some previous ‘tunes’ I recorded from Singing Ringing Tree earlier are here.