The Pearl Fisher

Monday, 28 December 2009

After a delightful Christmas break during which time, I’m afraid, I ate and drank far more than was sensible, my companion emailed Mr Bown to confirm some dates for our visit. She recieved an informative and encouraging reply which I have partly quoted and partly paraphrased below. Firstly he was keen to correct a few assumptions I had made that he was “the caller” at the club. To be honest even from our brief meeting, my companion and I had felt he had a presence that suggested he was more than a mere employee at the Hall. On this subject His own words are more eloquent than mine, I hope he will not mind me quoting them below:
“Dear Miss Dover… I feel I need to clarify some details about myself.
I am not The Caller but do at times call bingo sessions and have a good relationship from the stage with the customers.
I sold Whitstable Bingo Club to Stewart Neame some 4 years ago. I have been asked by him to come back to the club
on a consultancy basis to try to improve the business which I have been doing for the past 8 months.”
Quite correctly Mr Bown’s main concern was that my cameras should not disturb the customers in any way. This has lead me to reassess my original idea of filming the call and response of the players. Now I am thinking of concentrating solely on the caller, and hope Mr Bown will be willing to fill this role (he intimated as much in his letter). Anyway, he has invited us to meet him to discuss the filming in the new year. I must make plans for the journey ahead.

Wednesday, 23 December 2009

Sideburn Update

Last night the lady in the attic had a visitor. There was a low rumble of conversation that lulled me to sleep. I did not hear the gentleman leave although as I heard no more this morning I assume he did so in the night. I am lying abed photographing my sideburns. It is not that I am an overly lazy man it is just that in my lodgings one is either in the kitchen, the bath or the bed. There being little room in between I conduct much of my business like an eighteenth century gentleman. Above me my neighbour is dragging something heavy along the floor. On examination of the photographs I note that one sideburn is still much bushier than the other.

Tuesday, 22 December 2009

The woman in the Attic

A woman lodges in the attic rooms above me. I have never met her, only knowing her name from the post that accumulates in the entrance hall. I know her by sound too: her footsteps, a penchant for moving furniture in the early hours, a loud cackling laugh and slightly flat singing voice. Her recent pleasure in listening to 1990s power ballads has lead me to take long evening walks around the more affluent streets of Ipswich. Tonight my companion joined me and we came across a strange sight.