PJ (Paul Johnson) and I lived in a real cowman’s cottage, 90 kilometers west of London in Vernham Dean, Andover, Hampshire. The postmaster asked us what we wanted to name the place. Of course, we picked “BagEnd” (because I was short and had fur on the top of my feet.) Well, not exactly.. but the place was similar to this one in the same sweet village.
It was in the late ’60s and early ’70s, that my ex and I were in England. We’d signed contracts for publishing, recording, and performing with a company in London (at #1 Harley Street.) Back then, one or two successful acts could support a whole stable of musicians. We were treated very well…( until we weren’t–But that’s another story.)
Before finding our music business “home”, we squatted for a few months in an abandoned one-room house on stilts. We wrote songs and got to know some musicians in the area. After a great gig at the Round House in London, we came back to our seashore place and all of our stuff had been stolen. There’s nothing like being down to one change of clothes and your instruments to make one get serious. I really liked our squat, but it wasn’t legal. It was so remote, no one could get to us when the tide was in. We were so far from the rest of the world we could rehearse with all our might at any hour of the day or night.
After signing with RingMaker, we were provided a rental cottage, a car, 
and a recording schedule, etc. 
The cottage we lived in (legally) no longer had its thatched roof. We cooked on and were heated by a giant pale blue porcelain coal-fired stove nicknamed “Mother Rayburn”. There was a room on the porch that served as a refrigerator. The greengrocer, bread baker, and canned goods guy.. all made house calls and took orders for the following week. The baker was also the filling station and delivered mail. Sometimes we drove into Andover for the farmers’ market. Freshly butchered rabbits hanging upside down in the open air nudged me into vegetarian eating. The landlords left a can of fresh milk on the fence for us. It was a home.
When the company split up and things didn’t go well for us, I knew we would be leaving. I wrote the song “BagEnd” for that cottage– and eventually recorded it on “As the Crow Flies” 
. James Wilson of Aerie Designs in North Carolina did the cover art. (Thank him many times.)
And just this year an ancient copy of the recordings we made in London…surfaced magically. I’ll get some help to put both versions of that song in this blog.
I’m curious to know if you prefer one to the other.
Bag End
Bag End my friend good morning
open eyes to a brand new day
living in the country, dirt road, down-home style
Yellow leaves blow ’round, mornings
Birds feed on your window sills
Jackdaws in the field, dirt road, down-home style
Houses build up and tear down
Home is somethin’ else
Soon home will be on the highway
Dreaming of somewhere else.
Pheasants walk by, mornings
They don’t seem to know to hide
Like rabbits in the hedges, dirt road, down-home style
Houses build up and tear down
Home is somethin’ else
Soon home will be on the highway
Dreaming of somewhere else.