Russell Brand & the Painter’s Tattoo
Moving House in the UK
Introduction
One of the more tedious aspects of moving house here in the UK is arranging repairs for the property when needed. The goal, of course, is to cover those costs to get back the full deposit at the end of the tenancy period. The ubiquitous nagging concern in most, if not all, properties in the humid climate of the UK is damage caused by moisture. If you’re not mindful or careful, it could cause mold to appear on the ceilings and walls of your property. While we never struggled to prevent mold, our cottage had another related issue concerning the ever-present “damp.”
Throughout our tenancy, we found that the wallpaper in certain areas of the property was loosening. Some of the walls were peeling, gaps began forming between sheets, and the outer edge of the wallpaper covering the wall between the kitchen and the dining room was coming clear off. As you might assume, this piqued the interest of one of our toddler children, and with a split-second impulse, a small tear occurred. I guess they both wanted to see what was behind the wallpaper!
Our landlord and I discussed the issues with the walls, and I agreed to find a painter/wallpaper specialist by filling out an online form on a site called My Builder. The site connects you with an assortment of local professionals and specialists in the area of your choosing. I was put in touch with a few specialists but settled on an experienced painter called Gary, who had a very kind demeanor over the phone. We scheduled a time for the work to be completed before the big move to Birmingham.
Gary rang a couple of days before the appointment to ask if we could reschedule for another day. I was hard-pressed on time, mentioning that it would complicate the process, but perhaps we could work something out. He said that he had forgotten about a funeral he was meant to attend on the day of the job and that he had double booked. He confessed that he really didn’t want to go, almost retracting the request before waiting for my answer. We concluded by mutually agreeing to keep the appointment as is, and I thanked him for his consideration.
The Painter’s Tattoo
Gary, a grizzled old Englishman, turned up at our front door on the morning of our appointment. He looked like what you would imagine as the quintessential British blue-collar worker, with a subtle way about him, save for the pair of earrings of the sort a biker would wear. This suspicion was later confirmed when he was amused to learn that I was American. He explained that he frequently travels across the pond to rent Harley-Davidsons to explore different parts of the US. As we exchanged pleasantries, I showed him around the property and took him to the problem areas. He began to explain what was causing the issue, which, he believed, was the lack of a damp course or proofing throughout the property to keep the moisture from rising up the walls. The cottage is 250 years old, so he wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t adequate work done to prevent the notorious UK damp from causing such issues.
As he brought in a few supplies to mend the wallpaper, I angled into a conversation about the funeral he was supposed to attend that day after he had asked what I do for a living and why I was in the UK. When I answered, “I’m a minister,” he started to open up about his friend who had passed. He mentioned that it was an older mate of his who had long had dementia. He looked forlorn, phased by the whole thing, but it sparked a thought about my recent mediations and research on the afterlife. I began to share about a book I’ve been reading called “The Case for Heaven” by Lee Strobel. It covers topics such as near-death/out-of-body experiences and how many neuroscientists have determined that consciousness is not synonymous with brain activity. He stopped working and stared over at me, clinging to every word.
He repeated that he didn’t really want to go and wasn’t very fond of attending funerals. I nodded my head and said, “I know what you mean.” After a short pause to gather his thoughts, he continued to elaborate further. He sighed and spoke about how he lost his daughter just seven years ago at the tender age of 21. She was in a troubling situation with a deadbeat boyfriend who had gotten her pregnant. He was out of work and had no motivation to provide, so she sold drugs to make ends meet.
She had surrounded herself with the wrong crowd and began to use her own supply shortly after giving birth. Like many mothers, she suffered from postnatal depression but never let anyone in on what she was going through. She had suffered in silence. Gary only got wise to it when he noticed a pattern of her dropping off her daughter with them. She was visibly strung out and regularly using drugs to numb the pain. As Gary continued on about his daughter, he showed me a tattoo on his left forearm—it was a portrait of her. I noticed a slight grimace on his face as he went on. It was clear that he was still in pain and still in much grief. His wife still has bad days mixed in with the good, but that they’re “doing their best to get on.”
I asked about his granddaughter and whether he had any relationship with her. He remarked, “I’m afraid not. You see, I want to preserve as much of my dignity as I can, and I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him again.” I did my best to empathize with that feeling while he confessed that he blames him for the whole thing. He has been tormented by questions of what if and whether he and his wife did enough to warn their daughter of the dangerous path she was on. I asked for his permission to respond more directly. “Gary, I understand those thoughts, but there was only so much you could do as a parent. She was going to make her own decision. Regarding your daughter’s boyfriend, I do think that you need to let go of that unforgiveness. Unforgiveness is a poison to the soul.”
Russell Brand
His eyes widened, and he agreed before launching into a story of how he got to know Russell Brand, the English actor, and comedian. Gary does a lot of work for local businesses in and around Oxfordshire—one of which is this posh hotel called Danesfield House. It was four years ago when he met Russell Brand there. Brand had been shooting footage for a campaign he was doing at the time to engage with the homeless issue in the UK. He had asked Gary if he could borrow a paintbrush to make like he was painting the wall while a camera captured the sequence.
A little while later, Gary was working in Henley,-upon-Thames, England, when he saw a new Mini Cooper pull up by him, repeatedly honking its horn to get his attention. He lowered his head to peer into the car, and lo and behold, it was Russell Brand again! Brand remembered him from the hotel and stopped to catch up. Gary was wearing a short sleeve t-shirt at the time, and Brand caught a glimpse of the portrait on his left arm…