For a variety of reasons I have been ‘offline’ in one way or another for a few months since the culmination of the rain or shine project.

What has instead been on my mind is a long list that I will relay to you now.

The Stone Roses reforming, health worries, BBC1 series Moving On, the poor form of Everton Football Club, Masterchef the Professionals having never got a call back, Frozen Planet, being accused and cleared, Jacques Brel (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKMqCqjixyo), ox kidneys, health spas, friends with worse problems than I, Christmas, St. John’s Wort, grappa, Mick Rathbone’s The Smell of Football, groom website www.iamstaggered.com , the lyrics of The Courteeners, Ferran Adria, long-tailed tits, goose for Christmas, upcoming movie The Artist, the perils of social networking sites, Tootal scarves, homophobic comments, reality TV shows, alternative careers, the FHM book of grotesque marvels, Alice in Wonderland themed artworks by deaf people, North Wales seaside resorts, running, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, HIV & AIDS, Bored to Death Series 2, being satisfactory still, the words of Stan Collymore at the weekend eerily coming the day before Gary Speed’s death:

I decided to tweet my own personal experience of my latest bout of Depression yesterday,and firstly wanted to thank the hundreds of messages from friends,journalists,mental health workers,doctors,and sufferers,as well as well wishers.It’s very humbling to read the stories of fellow sufferers,links to blogs,and general experiences of this awful illness.

http://www.mind.org.uk

http://www.nhs.uk/Livewell/mentalhealth/Pages/Helplines.aspx

http://www.depressionalliance.org

http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk

http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/emotional_health/mental_health/

http://www.sane.org.uk/

Stan Collymore

But going on strike today gave me time to reflect and now, a fresh impetus, much needed – and there is a lot more to come.

So, last Tuesday the forty days were up.

Over that time, it rained on seventeen of those days, roughly once every 2 days nine hours.  

Overall I collected 236mm of rain: the heaviest rainfall was August 10th when 29mm was collected, and the average over the days that it rained, was 13.9mm – over the entire forty days, it averaged out at 5.9mm each day.

Meanwhile, given that IT TAKES BOTH RAIN AND SHINE TO MAKE A RAINBOW, the sunshine over those days brought with it 27  encounters with ice cream vans, an average of roughly one every one and a half days. Within that time there were a few favourites along the way, a couple were heard and not seen also, and I learned a lot about the different sounds they make , people they have inspired, and products they serve – for example, this chilli ice cream from Uncle Bob:

My favourite I was already familiar with, on Morecambe promenade, not just for its Morrissey reference but for the nostalgia that engulfed it, although the Shakespeare version and a lovely example frequenting Prestatyn market (that I got told off for taking a photo of) came close seconds:

Overall I think the rain was a secondary part to the ice cream, as it reconnected me with my youth in terms of getting overly excited at seeing the colourful vans in unexpecte places, or even better, hearing their chimes. Even trips to the shops might bring a fleeting glimpse to be recorded:

In the end, I rediscovered my taste for ice cream really, and along the way found that several others shared an interest in my concerns:

David Cameron, for example, found it “hard to believe” that government regulation of ice-cream van music is necessary, perhaps because one of his speechwriters (Clare Foges) used to work as an ice cream van driver in Surrey. Of course, with Margaret Thatcher’s experience, Conservative Prime Ministers do have previous: Meanwhile, the South Sefton Development Trust where I live have begun using a converted ice cream van to seek out entrepreneurs and help them start a business, as reported in last week’s Crosby Herald.. And, Heston Blumenthal recently announced that his ‘aim is to make ice cream that has fewer crystals, less fat, better flavour and a more pleasant texture… In other words, the perfect ice cream’ (Waitrose Kitchen, June 2011) whilst at the start of the summer, Roberto Mancini spoke of his plans to conclude transfer dealings over forty days and forty nights and his delight at capturing Samir Nasri – a fellow French Algerian – after a saga that seemed to have gone on for the same time period.

Exactly what happens next for me though, we cannot know – this project will form part of an exhibition or at the very least a book to document my findings over the the forty days, I have already observed ideas for display and have amassed, as if by magic, a grand total of 99 photographs of my exploits since July 15th.

For now, enjoy the rest of the summer, and any ice cream or rain that might come your way.

There are only two weeks left of the St Swithin’s Day project, and so far it has only rained on eleven of them.

In the meantime, I have seen or heard thirteen ice cream vans, which roughly works out as averaging out at one or the other – rain or shine – every single day so far. I have been careful to go about my daily business as usual and not go out of my way to chase the weather signs in a Francis Alys tornado chasing style, so at least I can trust my results.

The myth that it would be sunny or wet for the forty days following the 15^th July has been disproved, for this year at least, and the fact that it was both sunny and then rainy on that day seems to have been reflected in what we have experienced since. What happens over the next couple of weeks will be interesting though, not least because the recent deluge (29mm collected on 10 August is the record so far) will have been welcomed by many because for now at least, it seems to have quelled the civil unrest on our cities’ streets.

Scary though it has been for us all, I had particular empathy for friends and acquaintances in the capital, and I certainly do not endorse those making jokes about the situation, but those of us familiar with the song must have seen the relevance of Morrissey’s warning that there was panic on the streets of London, panic on the streets of Birmingham, and watching the rolling news footage I certainly wondered to myself, will life ever be the same again.

Still, life has gone on for most of the country, and my investigations developed in a new direction when I was signposted (thanks Simon) to the excellent Radio 4 documentary The Ice Cream Van Cometh (broadcast on 30^th July) in which Jim Carey (a sound designer) discussed in detail the origins of the familiar sound of summer emanating from ice cream vans.

Listening, I learned that Crewe was the worldwide centre of ice cream vans – I was three miles away when told about the documentary – and that the Chinese had invented ice cream before the Italians took it a stage further with their flavoured gelati. Charles II first brought ice cream to this country for a party in 1689, and gradually sellers used horses and two wheeled carts before motorised vehicles in the 1920s. The ice cream vans that we know originated in the late 1940s.

I was reminded that Justified and Ancient mentions ice cream vans, that Johnny Vegas and Francis Rossi are enthusiasts; the powerful, evocative noise was explained in depth, apparently owners treat the vehicles like their babies and they can tell if there is something wrong with the van from the music they play. The coincidences of the programme didn’t end there, I was also introduced to a work by Banksy that I had missed from his Bristol show a couple of years ago:

He too has been fascinated by ice cream vans since childhood, he believes they are perfect for selling ice cream because they are themselves ice cream like, and signalled a loss of innocence when he burnt out a van in the foyer of the gallery – an eery premonition of some of the scenes we have witnessed this week.

Some people apparently complain about ice cream van noise levels, and one of the most popular tunes is based on OOH OOH ANTONIO a 1908 music hall classic. Different songs are inputted into a computer and digitised, with sitar variations used in Leeds and Bradford. These “timeless” songs, according to Vegas, “take you back to a point of your past” which is why police once played chimes to a group of marauding youths to pacify their drunken anti-social behaviour – I wonder if this approach has been considered by Cameron and his COBRA group at all?

The documentary ended with mentions of ice cream on TV and film, from Robbie Coltrane playing a Glaswegian seller involved in the wars, to an episode of Chucklevision; The famous Boddingtons advert, and horror films (no doubt partly inspired by a Margaret Roberts joining a team of scientists in 1949 and developing the Mr Whippy)

In their heyday there were 20000 ice cream vans across the country, now there are around 5000 due to social change and supermarket freezers. Leanring more about them has reminded me to appreciate them a little more, whatever the weather – as Vegas said, we need to support them as what might life be like without them when they are gone?

I don’t know if I’m tired and I don’t know if I’m ill, my cheeks are turning yellow, I think I’ll take another pill.

Praying for the wave to come now, it must be for the fifteenth time, I’ve been here for much too long… This is the past that’s mine.

I want to fly and run til it hurts. Sleep for a while and speak no words in Australia.

In Australia.

But I won’t. Because this place, the wonderful country that both intrigues me and I am totally apathetic about, is suddenly at the forefront of my musings, primarily because I have been asked to submit an artwork for an exhibition due to take place there next month.

Australia and I have a funny relationship. I have family there, some of whom I have never met. I have never had the desire to go, howver now my best mate and best man lives there and when we speak, it is hard to comprehend he is living so far away, eleven hours ahead of me, but seemingly in a different world.

Aus has, I realise, played an even bigger part in some of your lives, for different reasons, and I have written this to ask you for amlittle favour. Restricted as I am in my experience, I need to gather some views and anecdotes you might be able to offer me about the place, your visits there, your relatives, any narratives we can share. The notion of antipodes – the exact opposite of a place - is of course linked to my previous research during another life, so the geography of the place will inform some of what I produce but I am hoping to involve your own comments.

It is essential I gather this information, then, and have already started, my Grandma told me a little tale about her trip there in the 80s to visit her sister, one of the Ten Pound Poms, who lives in Geelong. My cousin emigrated there last year too, whilst said constructor of this site moved there last year and has settled nicely. Other s close to me have visited, and of course I am part of a generation for whom Oz was a natural stopping point on a ‘gap year’ travel… Several of my friends from school and Uni will have done this. I chose to spend my own gap year in Blackpool.

But there is very little else I know about Australia, and I am reluctant to use any of this source material for fear of being cliched and stereotypical.All I know is from a childhood when popular culture seemed obsessed with the place. In no particular order then, is what I think about when I think about Australia otherwise, hence my need of your input.

1. Neighbours

My sister and I had to watch it every day. That habit only ended for me a couple of years ago. Angry Anderson, Mrs Mangel and my first proper crush Kimberley Davies were not the only reasons for viewing: the entire alien-yet-familiar culture of Ramsay Street was a daily adventure, and for a while Home and Away was an added bonus.

2. Steve Irwin

A hero of mine for a while, I went to see his film, had a t-shirt, and still have his wife’s book on my shelf following his unfortunate and untimely death. A good friend visited his zoo the week after his passing and marvelled at the trademark sfari shirts hung in a row, signed with several messages of love and devotion.

3. Walkabout

Our chain of pubs, with a great range of food and drink but no real atmosphere. The Lancaster one closed last year.

4. Tim Cahill

I’ve met him a couple of times and he seems a good guy – the talisman of the ‘Socceroos’ always seems to be in the right place at the right time, however irritating he might be. 

5. Crocodile Dundee

That’s a knife.

6. Aboriginal Art

Trying to engage kids in this is tough, regardless of your epistemological standpoint. I am intrigued by the Aboriginal experience but don’t know enough about it.

7. Beaches, barbecues, beer, bermuda shorts

A lot of people’s impression of the lifestyle, I am sure.

8. Heartbreak High

Anyone who remembers this will recall Tuesday evenings spent glued to BBC2 to see what happened to Nick and Abi and the scary teacher, a sign you were growing up.

9. Kangaroos, wombats, koala bears

Boxing kangaroos are one of my favourite sights. Me and wombats go back, too. Koala bears, meanwhile, have an aura.

10. Convicts

Limeys. Great Expectations’ unlikely hero, Magwitch.

That’s about it… Please can you help?

Comment below or via facebook or e-mail theartist@jonathangreenbank.com

Have a g’day.

1. The waste of the world becomes my art said Kurt Schwitters, but he could have easily been talking about what I’ve been doing for the past ten or more years. I say more because I’ve been collector of other people’s things for as long as I can remember. Often it’s stuff that is overlooked, ignored, discarded, forgotten.

2. During childhood I was given a load of Star Wars toys that I still love to this day. I was handed down clothes from wealthy friends of families, and I recall football and other stickers or cards such as Garbage Pail Kids, and it wasn’t about completion – something more accessible in these days of ebay – it was a fascination with multiples, with series, with things that were the same but different.

3. I didn’t have the dalliances with stamps, trains, comics, marbles, though. Or really, records, CDs, those magazines that you get every week, coins, the normal stuff, not  because I couldn’t, just that I wasn’t as interested, it was more the second hand stuff I cared about, things that had belonged to someone else and had a story. Endless scrapbooks…

4. In my adult days I have read and recognised the links between collecting and the post war years, and hoarding, like a squirrel in the autumn hoping one day something might be of use, but also a child’s – most often a boys – toilet training, anal retention, being sad at having to flush things down the toilet, and their puberty – sexual development – Baudrillard talked about this in detail.

5. But as I grew up I first recognised that the problem I had had since childhood could be used to inform my artwork when I spent an eye-opening year in Blackpool doing an art foundation course. I was pretty anxious, and unsure about what would happen next and presumably saw links with my collections and the belief that “life is potentially a big empty hole and there are few more satisfying ways of filling it”

6. It was there I was introduced to the work of Joseph Cornell. A weird loner from New York, he collected other people’s detritus in shoeboxes labelled as flotsam and jetsam in his cellar, making beautiful assemblages from it. The art world is generally apathetic towards him and his work, but he talks about noticing and using something Before it fades.

7. Later I looked closely at people like Alan Fletcher, a designer whom I was lucky enough to meet a couple of years before he died and I marvelled at his collections of used pencils and of those pizzas made out of stickers you peel off fruit. He looked at my work and actually said I was a rubbish artist and concentrate on teaching.

8. And then Sir Peter Blake, whose collections, and paintings he describes as “clinging to a youth slipping away” continue to this day. I once gave him a collection as a gift and he seemed generally pleased to accept it, anyone who has seen his studio will understand why that is.

9. I came to Liverpool and for a while kept dropped false nails. I bought a load of matchboxes from around the world, at a hospice coffee morning. I snipped out loads of lonely hearts ads. Then spoiled photos, then it was passport photographs, which I’d been keeping a book of for some reason. Loads had found themselves my way, like the one I found under my bed when I moved into a new flat, or the random ones on the street.

10. And about the same time, the films American Beauty and Amelie came out, which reassured me that I wasn’t alone, others such as the films’ heroes Ricky and Nino shared the need to complete, to answer a question, and those hours spent noticing rubbish searching under the passport photo booth searching for fragments seemed worthwhile. I did a dissertation on a plastic bag that proved there was “so much beauty in the world”.

11. But, things faded – both my interest and the appearance of these things, almost simultaneously, and I moved on to the next fetish. Nathan and I first crossed paths when we were both featured in an expose of the then soon to be capital of culture and I was described as a teacher, illustrator and collector of prossies letters.

12. Yes, for a while I kept finding these notes between ladies of the night that were scattered across the city, in exactly the same handwriting. This was another example of a collection suggesting a mystery, a question I wanted to answer, but was never able to…

13. I became a teacher and tried to inspire young minds across the city by exposing them to some of these artists and the likes of Lisa Milroy but it didn’t work and felt unable to collect for a while, my creative juices were sucked out of me and for some reason the objets trouves dried up. But then I read some books and watched some more films like Everything is Illuminated, in which a guy (called Jonathan) keeps remnants of his family history in plastic bags, and decided I simply had to embark upon a MA to see if they came back to me.

14. I began to collect again – first, fortune cookie messages – and started a website on which I wrote stories about my collections and how they were influencing my life – it offered the chance to tell stories about my findings and make sense of some of them. Have a look at the archives of www.jonathangreenbank.com to see how the waste of the world has become my art.

15. Those studies took me back to Blackpool – where it had all began, and I began a year long project in which I documented my visits to fortune tellers and to what extent the throwaway comments they gave me, proved true. I took bits of each visit away with me, recorded them on camera or via a hidden Dictaphone, so I wouldn’t forget.

16. The world had changed by now, and the way we interacted altered. To prove it I created an alter ego on Facebook and collected as many friends as I could, pretending I was their long lost relative, I got up to seventy in less than a month by sharing a potential link between our names, that I truthfully discovered after trawling through my family tree.

17. Then, to make sure I had the best chance of carrying on noticing and collecting things, I had a filmed laser eye surgery – this amazing guy Arthur Linz, whose flat was completely filled by rubbish when he died a few years back, once said, “you should always look down, not up”

18. And a couple of months ago I got a distinction for my masters with this exhibition but I really panicked, thinking that now I was a master of art, there wasn’t much left to collect. Samuel Beckett once said, art’s purpose was to fill an empty space, maybe I had done that, and there was no more need to keep things. Thankfully, I was wrong.

19. Today, on the other side of the world, one of my collections has been on show at an exhibition in Brisbane, Australia. It was made up of a load of heartfelt letters I wrote to a stranger, that recount stories I have collected from people who have been to Australia, though I’ve never been myself and never will.

20. I was sent an e-mail by Nathan a couple of weeks ago asking me to present at the Pecha Kucha night having heard about the phenomenon but not knowing what to expect. I wanted to take part because it made up for not being at the exhibition in Oz but also it gave me a chance to share with you my passion, the waste of the world becoming my art, before it fades…

Thank you

An idea I adapted from the brief for my nom de plume’s most recent article for a well known song lyric titled football fanzine, I decided to do a rundown of the biggest events from a life-changing year.

At this time of the year, it is traditional to have lists, charts, and the battle for Christmas number one seems to be on many people’s minds. Top of the Pops used to interrupt Christmas dinner for the big announcement, whilst review shows count down the highlights or otherwise of the previous twelve months.

Having also recently been introduced to the notion of Pecha Kucha as you will have no doubt read, here we have the top ten things – in order of chronology, not priority – on my mind since Christmas 2009.

10. Engagement

Preparation is well underway for the wedding in 2012. Venues have been toured, lists have been drawn up, important decisions made… We also had a brilliant belated celebratory party.

In term of the actual moment, Christmas morning and the Empire State Building will never be the same again.

9. The Weather

2012 and its predecessor The Day after Tomorrow both suggested we are on the verge of epic disaster caused by climate change. I would argue that this has already happened, the events of the first week of the year when we spent a preposterous few days off and then what’s going on at the minute, suggest the world will never eb the same again – summer doesn’t really happen, whilst winters are more extreme than ever…

8. Social Networking

However remote or isolated people feel, they continue to connect via a certain website, and logos the world over have also changed as a result. My alter ego spent a couple of months befriending strangers earlier this year, and it is a whole world only just being recognised. In terms of what I write now, internet savvy teenagers and beady eyes mean I have to be more careful than ever – being followed and stalked is not pleasant – as for tweeting meanwhile, people are also having more of a voice, sharing their views or just mindless chit chat, and often causing trouble as a result.

7. Cooking

Even food blogging seems de rigeur and chefs and critics alike are using the internet to promote their food and their writing. in 2010 I have grown to become fascinated by food programmes and documentation, even uploading photos of my creations or what I notice on menus.

6. Eyes

Laser eye surgery was a huge moment this year and it took a while to adjust but now feels as if it never happens. occasionally I have wished I did wear glasses again but overwhelmingly it has brought with it a new lease of life.

The actual moment was not pleasant and this is the first photo of me after the operation, the stinging tears are hard to make out.

5. Birds

Noticing and watching feathered friends has become an obsession, and the feeders on our balcony have made Saturday mornings very entertaining… Indeed today alone we have been visited by a magpie, some yellow tits, a robin and a huge wood pigeon. The recent highlight was the great spotted woodpecker.

Birds of prey remain my favourites, though I have been put off the thought of getting a budgie in the future.

4. MA

Gaining a masters with distinction was a tremendous experience and achievement, even if it was two hard years spent following events predicted by some dubious fortune tellers and predictive snacks. The anti-climactic finale offered a little pang of disappointment, but hope for the future.

3. Jobs etc

Uncertain times for us all and the current situation in terms of potential cuts and losses do not bear thinking about.

Panic on the streets too, as students revolt – how times have changed since my own days of NUS demonstrations – and Britain does not seem a happy place.

However much concern we hold, though, I think it was Virgil who once said, “the greatest health is wealth” lest we forget.

A happy new year to you.

Rather than the customary “did you have ‘a good one’?” (whatever that means) I’ll just hope you had fun and were able to rest and enjoy quality time with the people that matter. Myself, I experienced a Capra-esque Christmas which has rejuvenated me for the trials which await.

By that I mean I did a lot of thinking and certain events made me think about what is important, how fortunate I am and how I might do things differently this new year.

The reasons for this new found optimism are somewhat diverse and involve an engagement ring (a year late) a pair of trainers and an early wedding gift which overwhelmed me. And not, contrary to opinion, the heavy and at first exciting then annoying snowy scenes, nor thecopious amounts of alcohol I consumed, not the romantic encounter with a previous celebrity crush or a fantastic pasta machine (the results of which I am currently waiting to try)

However, just like George Bailey, I realised it’s a wonderful life when I recognised how much people care about me and can make things better, and the surprise gifts of a ring or some personalised adidas or forthcoming trip to Barcelona that my best man and fiancee had planned in secret, mean I enter what is going to be potentially a very difficult year with vigour and a positive mental attitude.

The whole concept of new year is a strange one in my opinion: whilst the calendar changes, things remain the same, it’s only a day, but for the sentimentalists among us there is the potential for a fresh start (the old traditions of kicking everyone into the street just before midnight so as not to carry things over symbolising this) and there remains, for a short while at least, the possibility that things could be different.

Problems can be solved.

The notion of time and periods thereof has been documented by artists much better than I but the idea of a calendar is intriguing in that it, like a diary, remains a chapter of our history, documenting events that repeat themselves but are always slightly different.

For that reason, many people choose to make resolutions, mine of which I will share with you now.

1. Relax more and don’t be so anxious – as I discovered last year, things happen for a reason and there seems little point fretting about things beyond our control. Thanks to a variety of circumstances we might both be fighting for our jobs this year, but there will be more to life whatever happens.

2. The greatest health is wealth, I keep reminding people of this. I will be keeping an eye on my wellbeing more than ever this year and that includes putting the right things in as well as keeping the wrong things out.As well as the basics we so often overlook.

3. Reading: My bookshelf contains over two hundred books of which I have probably read a quarter. So many people have bought be these amazing tomes that I have hardly had chance to look at for one reason or another and so am determined to lose myself in a book or two, even if it is as an escape. Vonnegut, Pele, Marr, Plath, Everett, Eggers, McGahern, Oddie… I’M COMING TO GET YOU!

4. Despite the likely direction that brought you to this site, and partly inspired by the I newspaper resolutions, “dont facebook or twitter when you can call” – this has a double meaning when people really need to think a bit more about what they put on those sites. But let’s keep it personal, people, the art of communication is getting lost…

5. Make a real go of a new, as-yet-unnamed-and-unplanned website to replace the efp. You were good in your time… but the world and the game has moved on and football isn’t such a beautiful game at the minute. Therefore I have been asked to support a new exciting site which could well be the catalyst for something big.

6. Another project inspiring me is the follow-up to the Live In Gallery’s recent lonely arts exhibition. Loosely themed around bleeding hearts I am embarking on a large scale return to painting creatures with whom I have an affinity and a link. Two by Two will be aided by a new easel Father Christmas brought me…

I therefore resolve to devote time to my artwork, particularly another project I am planning for the summer.

But of course you will be reading about that.

Best of luck to you all.

God saw how great wickedness had become and decided to wipe mankind from the face of the earth. However, one righteous man among all the people of that time, found favour in God’s eyes.

With very specific instructions, delivered by a budgie purporting to tell fortunes, God told him to create a set of paintings for him and his family in preparation for an exhibition in a city recently devastated by catastrophic flood that could have destroyed every living thing on earth.

God also instructed him to bring into the exhibition, sixteen paintings (to be displayed two by two) of all living creatures, male and female, along with every kind of food to be stored as food for the animals and his family while on the ark. He already had a dove or two.

He obeyed everything God commanded him to do.

While he was building this metaphorical ark he preached to his neighbours but no one listened, mocking him instead, and some of those invited to be part of the narrative and its elaborate chiasmus, chose not to be. One threatened to smash his face in and flatten him, when denied entry. Another lied and said they weren’t allowed to go to the toilet, a complete lie. Others told him to jump off the edge and kill himself, whilst one turned up intoxicated and put him in a very difficult situation. The worst, perhaps, said he’d touched them inappropriately, again a complete fabrication which might have caused huge problems.

However, inspired by Faith the Wonder Dog,( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obSU8bHj5jk )he began to collect the right sorts of creatures, ones that shared a common bond with him, either from birth or through unfortunate events early in their lives.

You will have read about some of these animals or seen them on the news, others will be a complete shock to you, they may make you laugh uncomfortably but when you read their stories, you will be touched, heart broken in fact, he is sure, and want to offer an olive branch. Victims of accidents, freaks of nature, strange looking beasts that you couldn’t make up, they are all there, and you will meet them soon enough.

After they enter the exhibition, his next project is to be a study of St Swithin’s Day, after which rain traditionally falls on the earth for a period of forty days and nights.

And this year, he graduates on July 15th, coincidentally enough. 

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to bring to your attention the impending retirement of my mother, a local NOS campaigner, and would like to ask you a little favour if I may.

Firstly, I met you and HRH Prince Charles at a Food Schools Trust function at Clarence House back in 2007. We were invited as a result of our work towards Healthy Schools status, and myself and our head cook had the most wonderful couple of hours in your company – indeed, you offered to send us some carrots! – and I was also thrilled to meet Jamie Oliver at the same event. Indeed, our paths crossed even earlier: I worked as a warden at Buckingham Palace during the Summer Opening of the State Rooms in 2002, and later that year apparently sold you and your husband your Christmas tree for Highgrove when I was selling them at Westonbirt Arboretum later that year!

Anyway I wanted to write to you and inform you that my mum is about to retire after roughly 37 years of service at the same hospital up in Lancaster. The reason it is relevant to your self is that for the last eighteen (I think) of those, she has led a bone density unit, scanning for osteoporosis using a Dexa Scanner. Now I know how passionate you are about the unfortunate ailment and have been impressed with your efforts raising awareness for the NOS.

My mum has co-ordinated her local NOS group for several years, arranging meetings, fundraising, and attending functions to deliver the key messages.

Anyway I would like to ask if you might find the time to sign the enclosed retirement card for my mother and return it to me so I might present it to her. She has devoted much of her career to scanning for and preventing this terrible affliction, and I know she would be elated to receive recognition from someone as important as yourself.

Please, if you can, sign and return the enclosed card, and we would both be eternally grateful.

I thank you in advance of your help and celebration of my mum’s efforts and achievements.

Yours sincerely

Jonathan Greenbank

Last week I was rejected by an art-themed reality TV show, which is a shame, as, unbeknownst to their researchers, this was to be a new project of mine.

More disappointing, I’ve always wanted to be on TV.

The first time I really thought about it was when our primary school class was fixed up with a fellow class down south, to become pen friends and write frightening verse to each other, about nothing in particular. I became the envy of my peers when I was paired with Alex Boyce, a seemingly very cool individual who in his first letter, told me he was about to be on Jim’ll Fix It.

And he really was! He created his own breakfast cereal which he designed and saw being manufactured on the programme. Boxes of those Space Shooters were sold in Tesco nationwide. I bought some. I was in awe.

If you know a Alex Boyce, 30ish, grew up in Berkhamsted area, tell him to get in touch.

So, I wrote to Jimmy and asked to be on a special version of A Question of Sport, at the time my favourite programme. However, I cried very real tears when, a few weeks later, my cousin told me that another lucky young man had had it ‘fixed for him’ to be on the panel with Bill and Emlyn and my dreams were shattered – for the time being, at least.

Growing up, my only dalliance with Andy Warhol’s vision of those fifteen minutes came when my design for a ‘light-up Britain’ Blue Peter competition was on screen for a split second, and then I was asked two questions by Clive Tyldesley before an Everton game, cruelly edited out of the pre 1995 FA Cup Final build-up. But, as reality TV soon became a staple for my generation, another opportunity reared its head.

1998’s The Truman Show captured my imagination completely, the idea that someone’s entire life could be documented on a screen, a fictional narrative played out unwittingly in front of the baying masses. For a while I wondered if my own life was the same.

Later, still fascinated by the concept, and at a loss what to do when about to leave Uni, I requested application forms for Big Brother 3, though eventually missed the deadline having no video camera. I did meet Jade later in my life, though; relieved at my escape.

The only other opportunities to become a superstar came when I was captured on Carnaby Street in the background of a Sam & Mark feature on a Saturday morning, and then my handwriting and collaborative creative input made up an advert for this album:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N26yZA1kWus

You Tube and Web 2.0 has offered the chance for many people to share their stories and become famous, for whatever reason, and recently I spent a long time looking at how easy it can be to construct a fantasy of duality and intertextuality, without the downfalls of fame and celebrity.

My artwork took me then, to Show Me The Monet, the new BBC series I had submitted a proposal to. I knew my work was not suitable for the masses, but took a chance, just incase the potential of my ideas was recognised by a controller or talent scout: not for fortune or the cover of Heat magazine but to extend my portfolio of relational aesthetics.

They still asked to use my work in the opening credits, so my work might make it onto TV after all.

And next week, a new programme starts on Sky Atlantic about a guy called Jonathan who starts a detective agency. Bored to Death could have been written about me, given I have recently tracked down a missing person, sniffed out a haul of drugs, been labelled a ‘grass’, and the central character is a ‘dark haired’ ‘big nosed’ ‘Jewish looking’ ‘geek’ (as I myself have been called at different points in my life).

Even in my wildest dreams, this doesn’t mean I made it to TV at last.

Not yet, anyway.

In the meantime, I have obtained some mouldy VHS copies of my youth, as my parents clear out the old shelves. One is of a football tour of Holland, the other my star turn as the prodigal son Jim in a Year 6 assembly: for now, at least, I can watch myself on screen to my heart’s content.

Plus, I still have enough lookalikes on screen to comfort me…

And, those applications to be on Mastermind and Masterchef to consider in the future, of course…

On Wednesday 22 June, the ark will be complete.

You will have read last time, the first set of creatures invited on board.

But they were not alone: to complete the sets of two by two, there are some others whom I would like to introduce to you.

First up is Snowflake, the albino gorilla from Barcelona Zoo, that the artist was fortunate enough to see with his own eyes, smearing faeces on the glass front to his enclosure. the only known albino gorilla to have lived, he was called Floquet de Neu (little snowflake in Catalan) when captured.

Then the wise owl, one of those with the most in common with Noah, born with only one wing, unable to ever fly.

One creature with the full compliment of wings was Granny Feng’s cat from Xianyang City in China, e across in a copy of Ripley’s Believe it or Not.which Noah camWhat started out as two bumps on her cat’s back grew into wings within the space of a month back in 2007. She believes this makes her pet a “cat angel” and put the phenomenon down to being harrassed by female cats on heat, though scientists prefer to attribute the wings to either a genetic mutation or a rare hereditary skin condition called feline Cutaneous Asthenia, which results in a cat’s skin forming pendulous, wing-like folds or flaps.

Another celebrity guest is Paul the octopus, famed for predicting the outcome of several football matches and other events. Indeed, a feature film is said to be being penned which tells his story. Noah felt particular affiliation with Paul because of his encounters with palm readers in the past, and fond memories of John the fortune telling budgie who partly inspired this project.

There’s also Eclyse, the zorse, who had previously lived in a German safari park. Her mother was a horse and her father a zebra, and whilst most cross-breeds have stripes across their entire body, she has a beautiful snow white front, legs and tail.

Another apparent freak of nature is the unfortunate piglet, also from China, one of fourteen: but this little piggy was born with one eye, four eyeballs, and a long nose that has seen it likened to an elephant.

Presumably it regularly cries all the way home.

One of the stranger looking unclean is also one of the rarest. There are said to be only 330 of these snub-nosed monkeys, recently discovered in the forests of North East Burma, known by locals as ‘monkey with an upturned face’. Their upturned nostrils fill with water when it rains, making them sneeze, so sits with its head between its knees during downpours, a skill which will be much needed in the near future.

And finally, a mystery solved: The Emperor of Exmoor, nine feet tall and reputedly Britain’s largest wild animal, was thought to have been shot and beheaded last autumn. in fact, the red stag will be accompanying Noah on his voyage.

God said unto Noah, This is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth.And, after Noah’s flood the rainbow gained meaning as the sign of God’s promise that terrestrial life would never again be destroyed by flood (Genesis 9:13–17) whilst in the dreamtime of Australian Aboriginal mythology, the rainbow snake is the deity governing water…

Let’s not worry about what might or might not happen after St. Swithin’s Day, instead just raise a glass to the unclean sixteen and enjoy mixer night.

Take classically trained artistic talent and stir with an unique view of the world.

Drop in a shot of wit and mix with dashes of quirkiness and skepticism to create a cocktail that is as beautiful as it is shocking…

My local church has a sign outside that says

IT TAKES BOTH RAIN AND SUNSHINE

TO MAKE A RAINBOW

Remember I told you last time that God said unto Noah, ‘this is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth. And, after Noah’s flood the rainbow gained meaning as the sign of God’s promise that terrestrial life would never again be destroyed by flood’ (Genesis 9:13–17) ?

Well, whilst I grew up watching Zippy George and Bungle, Rod Jane and Freddy, and the happy memories of which lunchtime viewing has been marred slightly by recent revelations of innuendo, the rainbow the sign seems to reference and I will discuss here is the one we sometimes see and still marvel at, you know, that one with a pot of gold apparently at the end of it.

For a while now, 15 July has been marked as an important day for personal reasons this year but traditionally it means a lot also because of its legacy as St. Swithin’s Day, a day on which people watch the weather for tradition says that whatever the weather is like on St. Swithin’s Day, it will continue so for the next forty days.

There is even a weather-rhyme which is well known throughout the British Isles since Elizabethan times:

‘St. Swithin’s day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain
St. Swithin’s day if thou be fair
For forty days ’twill rain nae mair.’

Now I had never heard nor sung this rhyme before undertaking this research, nor Billy Bragg’s lovely 1984 song (and this version by Dubstar)  of the same name but the former sums up the concept quite nicely I think.

A popular online encyclopaedia tells us that “St. Swithin (or more properly, Swithun) was a Saxon Bishop of Winchester. He was born in the kingdom of Wessex and educated in its capital, Winchester. He was famous for charitable gifts and building churches.

“A legend says that as the Bishop lay on his deathbed, he asked to be buried out of doors, where he would be trodden on and rained on. For nine years, his wishes were followed, but then, the monks of Winchester attempted to remove his remains to a splendid shrine inside the cathedral on 15 July 971. According to legend there was a heavy rain storm either during the ceremony or on its anniversary.

“This led to the old wives’ tale (folklore) that if it rains on St Swithin’s Day (July 15th), it will rain for the next 40 days in succession, and a fine 15th July will be followed by 40 days of fine weather.

“However, according to the Met Office, this old wives’ tale is nothing other than a myth. It has been put to the test on 55 occasions, when it has been wet on St Swithin’s Day and 40 days of rain did not follow.

The emblems of St. Swithin refer to the legend of the forty days’ rain (raindrops) and the apples from the trees he planted: “St Swithin is christening the apples” (Brand, Popular Antiquities, 1813, i, 342)

Indeed, “there is an old saying when it rains on St. Swithin’s Day, it is the Saint christening the apples. Apparently, apple growers ask St. Swithin for his blessing each year because they believe:

• Rain on St. Swithin’s day ‘blesses and christens the apples’.
• No apple should picked or eaten before July 15th.
• Apples still growing at St Swithin’s day will ripen fully.

Therefore, with the help of scientists and the heavens, I will be documenting the weather over the next forty days through rain collection, photographs and a journal, to see this time if a different type of prediction – having experimented with fortune cookies and seaside psychics in the recent past.

But what of the sunshine mentioned?

For a while now I have been fascinated with ice cream vans. Another fond memory of childhood is hearing the strange sound fast approaching my grandparents’ road, where we were spending a summer holiday, and running out to see the little guy with a funny eye arrive and rushing to get a ‘99′er off him.

Ice cream vans seem slightly different now, more commercialised and somehow more modern, although traditions remain. The weird little paintings that adorn them, and more specifically the warnings to MIND THAT CHILD.

What really brought this idea to my consciousness was seeing the van in Morecambe – during the visits to fortune tellers – which is decorated vintage style and has on its side the misspelt title of a Morrissey classic.

http://www.everyday-is-like-sundae.co.uk/

For a while last year there were unconfirmed sightings in the North Liverpool area of one that said DON’T SKID ON A KID, LID – the existence of which I can now validate, in fact I see it regularly and passed it only yesterday – and another favourite of mine, DRIVERS REMEMBER… CHILDREN FORGET.

The paintings of cartoon characters are sinister enough, but it’s these messages which offer different warnings and forebodings that I am really interested in.

Therefore the second part of this new project on which I embark, is the collecting of ice cream vans, as that sunshine from the church sign often means ice cream. Summer holidays when we were young always seemed hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement or at least melt Margaret Thatcher’s best inventions, so to evoke these experiences further I will record every sighting of ice cream vans, and document when possible, every detail possible of what I see.

Given how many are for sale on ebay, and how many other artists and photographers have used them for inspiration, perhaps this will be a more exciting theme to pursue than collecting the raindrops that fall on me over the next forty days, but I endeavour to track the evidence or other wise of both up to Wednesday August 24th.

Until then, we will just have to wait and see what St. Swithun decides should happen exactly 1040 years after his death…

So – what is it to be then? As Five Star sang, rain or shine, you’ll always be… One in a million, my fantasy come true. Whether the next forty days are bringing me sunshine, or will I be only happy when it rains?

Because it takes both to make that rainbow, don’t forget…

Since Friday it has rained at some point every day.

St Swithin / Swithin has therefore been ‘christening the apples’, and my project has got off to a good start.

Despite a mishap with the measuring cylinder, I set up the apparatus on Thursday evening and prepared for what the next day might bring. On Friday itself, we awoke to bright sunshine, which really was a blessing as my graduation was due to take place that morning. The photographs were all the better for it, and perhaps gave me the positivity and confidence necessary to carry out my little plan.

You see, my Masters research was inspired by a fortune cookie message, which led to my documenting visits to fortune tellers and ultimately led to me having my eyes lasered to create an alter ego: quite a journey over the two years’ study. Therefore I thought, to close this chapter, the perfect act would be to end the story with my passing the retiring vice chancellor a fortune cookie during the ceremony, I know you probably will have seen the occasional zany student attempt similar antics at their ‘handshake moment’ but this was a genuine gift – playful yet sincere – and was captured on film as well as being met with good grace and appreciation by Michael Brown himself, he even e-mailed me to tell me what it said and that it had come true…

Here I am handing it over.

Anyway it was a great ceremony and despite having been lucky enough to experience it a few years ago, this meant more for some reason: I have re-watched it online and scoured all the photos, to help me remember. The rest of the day was wonderful too, and it brought with it my first ice cream van of the forty days:

Then the skies clouded over and the rain I had secretly been hoping for, arrived, thankfully coming too late to spoil anyone’s day.

No rainbow as yet, then, but a mixture of sunshine and quite heavy showers… This rain has since been collected in test tubes on a daily basis, and measurements taken: photos will follow but at present we have had:

FRIDAY – 14mm

(And one ice cream van)

SATURDAY – 22mm

SUNDAY – 13mm

(No ice cream van was spotted on either day)

It’s raining now so I will leave Monday’s out for a few more hours, it looks like quite a bit is in there already, and I will get back to you again with another update soon…

Almost a quarter of the way into the project and would you believe it has only rained for four days (or five) since St Swithin’s Day. Otherwise we have had lots of sunshine, meaning that the prophecy was false this year but also, a shift in my documenting priorities.

Last Monday gave us 14mm and on Tuesday I collected 2 mm of rain and despite a light drizzle on Thursday evening, plus what seemed like torrential rain in the West Midlands where I was on Friday evening, the test tube remains empty now for a fifth consecutive day.

I cannot complain, being on holiday in the sun is more than enjoyable, however it means already that the idea that the age-old superstition could be true, has been disproven, therefore I have for now switched my attention to ice cream vans, and ice cream.

The end of term signalled school being out for the summer and on the way home, we passed a pink van too quickly for me to document other than this photo. I really like the cones on the front:

Then on to Stratford-upon-Avon – on the way there I fell asleep so missed three in a row on the M6 according to my mum, but I was not disappointed the follwing day when I came across what will surely be one of the most elaborately decorated vans I will ever see. It was parked next to the river and the staff on board were only too happy to allow me to pose with the Bard, even directing me to their website www.macsices.co.uk which signposted me to the ice cream alliance, whom I will contact about my endeavours…

So, a Shakespeare themed van signalled the start of the most successful day for ice creams yet, as I happened upon two other vans in the town during the day: A Wall’s branded bright beast, sans any warning, which I actually saw three times in a few hours, and a more homely Donattelo’s in the market which said MIND THAT CHILD featured a Jungle Book theme:

As well as an ice-cream bike – an innovation I had not previously considered – parked by Shakespeare’s Birthplace:

A statue of a monstrous 99er:

And two ice-cream barges, though none of these will count towards the overall total.

The following day and a trip to Warwick Castle brought with it searing temperatures and my first ice cream of the summer. It was a pistachio cone, very nice it was too, devoured whilst watching the birds of prey, though bought from a catering stall just next to the castle wall that is sadly irrelevant to my travails. I did though enter the rose garden and discover the St. Swithin rose:

And I also saw another bike – and someone’s tastebuds tempted and then distraught, their disappointment slowly melting on the gravel:

Wall’s seemed to be the theme of the day as on the way home we spotted a Wall’s red and white van broken down on the hard shoulder of the M40 – too late to photograph, unfortunately.

Upon returning home I read a fascinating article on Heston Blumenthal’s recent interview about ice cream in the June Waitrose Kitchen magazine – those of us awaiting a call from Masterchef need to read such tomes – in which he discussed his forthcoming range of mustard ice cream as well as his childhood memories of ice cream being the highlight of weekly outings to bric-a-brac markets with his gran and the “.. milk solids, egg-coagulation temperatures, non-fat content, over-run calculations and liquid air” and “Robin Weir… an obsessed ice cream fanatic” (whom I will also communicate with) before mentioning his own egg-and-bacon creations and other new savoury inventions.

Whilst I am a long way from those, the notion of the ice cream van and the possibilities therein have given this journey a new direction, twist, inspiration, so we will see whether any rain dampens the spirit over the next few days…