Putting the Boot In

It appears that a very trendy thing in mid Victorian England was the tree species, the Wellingtonia Gigantea, a member of the Sequoia family. 

Although an ancient species of mythical native aura and size in its natural habitat of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California it was not at all well known beyond this enclave or even to the increasing population of the New World who, having become settled, were now inquisitive visitors and tourists to other parts of their fledgling nation. 

A Brit, William Lobb, on occasion a plant hunter for home based Nurseries and Horticultural establishments was visiting San Francisco in 1852 when he first heard about the monster trees of the region. 

He was amazed at the sight of around ninety trees, some over 300 feet tall and with a girth around the trunk of almost thirty feet. He was even more astounded by the information that the trees were about 3000 years old. His reaction to the fact that the cross section of a felled tree was in use as a seating area for 40 to attend a piano recital can only be guessed at on this basis. 

Lobb knew that this species would excite considerable interest and demand back in Britain and so took it upon himself to transport seeds, shoots and seedlings to their new environment. 

The trees were rapidly taken up by wealthy Victorians to populate their rural estates and in this way the Sequoia became a status symbol, a must have item, the bees knees in horticultural fashion of the time. 

The Stateside discoverer of the species was keen to name it after the first President, Washingtonia and pressed ahead to assemble the all important herbarium specimens that would enable a formal registration to be made. Lobb was aware of this move and quickly returned to England with his own specimens before this could take place. In what was seen to be almost a diplomatic standoff between the transatlantic neighbours the new species was named Wellingtonia gigantean to commemorate the death in 1852 of the great servant of the nation, The Duke of Wellington. 

A more scientific rather than iconic name of Sequoiadendron giganteum was given to settle the arguments although Wellingtonia persisted in true nationalistic style. 

The tree was hardy enough to cope with prevailing soils and climate in Britain and became well established in the grounds of many country houses.

This was the background to the decision by the people of Kingston Upon Hull, Yorkshire to celebrate the opening of the peoples park, Pearson Park in the city in August 1860 with the planting of what was described as a very healthy specimen of  Wellingtonia Gigantea. A custom made spade, bedecked with ribbons was used by the Lord Mayor and namesake benefactor of the land for the park, Zachariah Pearson, to dig the bedding hole for the tree. 

It was hoped, in his own words conveyed to the crowd of 40,000 in attendance that it would “shoot upwards and expand its boughs pointing to the sky and that in its own way those using the park for their recreation and leisure would, like the tree, aspire towards Heaven so that they might find a glorious and happy future”. 

Unfortunately the tree seems to have been unable to live up to its expectations and is reported to have died shortly after being planted. 

Little was the honourable Zachariah to suspect, although there has been great speculation and discussion on his business acumen and judgement, that within just two years his own fate and personal fortune would fail to flourish and thrive as a result of bankruptcy. 

A faint buzzing in the distance

The De Haviland Mosquito is one of my favourite aircraft of all time. 

It was called the "wooden wonder" because in a wartime era of shortages of steel and more pressing projects to take up the time and skills of specialist workers the designers and maufacturers made best use of the natural resource of engineering grade timber. Spruce, birch plywood and Ecuadorean balsa were in plentiful supply during the war and were not considered strategic materials.

It was already a well tried and tested process pioneered in the earliest aircraft that wood, particularly when covered with a thin layer of doped ie stretched and chemically treated fabric, makes for a remarkably smooth, aerodynamic surface free of rivets and seams and therefore minimising that enemy of speed, drag. 

There was no requirement to build and set up expensive custom made facilities to make a wooden plane as existing furniture factories, cabinetmakers, luxury-auto coachbuilders and piano makers could quickly be drafted in as subcontractors to make the individual parts of the plane. Battle damage could be repaired relatively easily in the field, in effect taking the form of makeshift bandage patching without compromising airworthiness. 

Rapidly pressed into active service in the early years of the war exactly 7,781 Mosquitos were eventually built with 6,710 of them delivered during WWII but such was the quality of the aircraft that production continued up until 1950. 

The lightness and strength of construction made for a very fast and nimble plane but not to compromise versatility for a number of strategic roles, in fact earning it the accolade of the world’s first, true, multi-role combat aircraft. It served as a bomber, fighter, night fighter, U-boat hunter and reconnaissance plane.

However, as with many such aeronautical marvels there was, with peacetime, a refocusing of priorities. 

The immediate post war period saw the emergence of jet propulsion which relegated even the fastest propeller aircraft into the history books. 

There was little alternative or civilian use for the Mosquito unlike, for example the Dakota transport which found its way into many commercial airline fleets. 

There was also little time for nostalgia other than from those who had flown or serviced them and only a handful of airframes and even less in flying condition have survived to the present day. 

Only three Mosquitos are today in flying condition, one in Canada and two in America. 

It has been a long planned dream of dedicated Mosquito enthusiasts to restore a plane to full flying status and a charity “The Peoples Mosquito” hopes to resurrect the remains of a Mosquito night fighter that crashed at RAF Coltishall, in February 1949, while serving with No 23 Squadron. 

There has been little to go on by way of technical information for the restoration on this intended scale of an aircraft that is 70 years old. There could be former technicians still alive but even if one of the last in the RAF to work on the Mosquito they would be of some senior age even though potentially sharp and lucid in their memories. 

A significant step forward in the ultimate Mosquito project occurred very recently with the discovery just hours before disposal to landfill of more than 20,000 original wartime engineering blueprints for the wooden wonder during the clearance, prior to demolition of  the old de Haviland aircraft factory in Broughton, Cheshire. 

They seem to have been archived and forgotten about in the factory filing system or just regarded as obsolete given that the drawings were stored on the long abandoned media of card mounted microfilm. 

The resource includes what are thought to be the world’s only complete set of engineering drawings for the plane. 

As well as being a unique historic record their content of invaluable technical details will it is hoped prove vital in making sure that the rebuild dream is able to comply with the strict aviation safety standards which would make the difference between a return to the skies or a static gate guard. 

It was fortunate that the discovery was made by an engineer at the mothballed and condemned factory premises who recognised the drawings and their significance. 

Whether an urban myth or the truth it appears that one of the greatest admirers of the Mosquito was Herman Goering, Germany’s wartime aviation minister, who is reputed to have said that the aircraft turned him “green and yellow with envy”. In a reluctant compliment to the revolutionary design and technical advancement of the plane he is also reported as saying that "The British, who can afford aluminium better than we can, knock together a beautiful wooden aircraft that every piano factory over there is building.They have the geniuses and we have the nincompoops"

The restoration will cost an estimated £6m but with only a fraction of the money raised so far.

There is no doubting the enthusiasm of those in and supporting the charity but as with the now ill fated "Vulcan to the Skies" project there is a very long way to go to realise the dream and it can be fraught with difficulties, trials and tribulations. 

Personally I cannot wait to see and hear a Mosquito taking its place amongst the ranks of that rare category, that of classic aircraft that can actually fly.

The Impresario of Hull

I thought that the job title of “Events Organiser” was a modern one. 

At face value it sounds like a non-job or at least not the sort of thing that you could build a career on. Equally it seems to be a sort of first world only requirement as in someone who has seen a gap in the market to provide activities to relieve the wealthy and idle of their cash. 

However, in my recent research into the 157^th birthday of my local urban greenspace, Pearson Park in Hull, Yorkshire, UK it appears that flair and impresario skills were highly valued back in 1860’s Victorian England. 

The inauguration ceremony for the Park was intended to be as much a statement of an up and coming City as the gifting of the land by its then Lord Mayor Zachariah Pearson and the best person to plan and manage the celebration was Mr John Enderby Jackson. 

Hull born, Enderby Jackson is reputed to have come from the South Sea Whaling Enderby’s and with their lineage reported as including the mother of the military campaigner, General Gordon. 

Brought up in the Port and Maritime City of Hull , Enderby Jackson was a highly proficient musician and specialised in the working class pastime of brass banding.

In 1855 Mr. Enderby Jackson commenced a series of contests in the Zoological Gardens at Hull, and organised and carried out successfully many contests in various parts of the country. 

He threw great energy into his work, and did much to stimulate the growth of contests amongst brass bands and it was under his direction that the great contests held at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, in 1860, 1861, and 1862, were organised and carried to a successful issue. 

It was his renowned efforts in 1860 that brought about his prestigious appointment in his home town in that same year.

This particular trio of years were looked upon as a landmark in the history of brass band contests drawing together from all parts of the country the best bands that existed. 

In a gala type performance whilst awaiting the deliberation of the judges over the group stages of the competition the combined bands formed what is believed to be the largest collection of musicians in this speciality on record in English history. 

The ensemble, or rather massed ranks, consisted of 1390 performers, and they were arranged in rows according to their instruments. 

It comprised 144 soprano cornets, 184 first cornets , 210 second row cornets, 83 E flat althorns, 71 D flat althorns primo, 51 D flat althorns secundo, 100 B flat baritones, 74 tenor trombones, 75 bass trombones, 80 euphoniums, 133 ophicleides, 155 E flat contre-basses, 2 B flat contrebasses, 26 side drums, monster gong drum, and the great organ. 

This cacophony of instrumentalists was conducted by Mr. Enderby Jackson himself. 

The entourage gave rousing renditions of such iconic numbers as "Rule Britannia," "Handels Hallelujah", "Wedding March" by Mendelssohn, "The Heavens are telling " (Haydn), and "God Save the Queen in honour of the residing monarch, Victoria.

A report in theTimes newspaper acclaimed that: 

"The effect of the combined legions of 'blowers' was tremendous. The organ, which accompanied them, and which on less exceptional occasions is apt to drown everything, was scarcely audible in the midst of the brazen tempest. 

Nothing less than the new "monstre gong-drum" manufactured by Mr. Henry Distin - to wield the thunder of which required the united efforts of Messrs. Charles Thompson, of the Crystal Palace Band, and Middleditch, of the London Rifle Brigade - could prevail against it. 

The pieces that pleased the most (perhaps because the best executed) were Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" and the National Anthem, both of which were unanimously encored "

At the close of the performance the twelve selected bands engaged in the final contest before the eminent judges. These bands, shown in their respective final placings in the competition were; 

The Black Dike Mills Band, conducted by Mr. S. Longbottom; 

Saltaire Band, Mr. Richard Smith; 

Cyfarthfa Band, Mr. R. Livesey 

Darlington Saxhorn Band, Mr. H. Hoggett; 

Dewsbury Band, Mr. J. Peel; 

Deighton Mills Band, Mr. P. Robinson; 

Witney Band, Mr. J. Crawford; 

Stanhope Band, Mr. R. de Lacy; 

Chesterfield Band, Mr. H. Slack; 

Staleybridge Band, Mr. J. Melling; 

Accrington Band, Mr. R. Barnes; and 

Holmfirth Temperance Band, Mr. W. Roberts. 

Many of these names still continue to perform to the present day or if they have fallen by the wayside remain enshrined in the annals of Brass Band legend.

Perhaps the greatest endorsement of the panache and organisational aptitude of Enderby Jackson came in the same Times Report

"The whole performance was conducted with wonderful vigour and precision by Mr. Enderby Jackson, of Hull, a sort of "Delaporte" in his way, who has exerted himself in forwarding the brass band movement among the mechanics, artisans, petty tradesmen, manufacturers, and labourers of the northern and midland counties with almost as much energy and unremitting zeal as M. Delaporte the Orpheonist movement in the provinces of France." 

Wash Wipe

The opening sequence to the first Men in Black movie acts out a very familiar sequence of events from my childhood. 

That has got you pondering whether I am a border insurgent, a member a top secret government organisation with a mandate to save the world from aliens or an actual alien from another galaxy or time. 

It is a simpler and much less elaborate a story than that. 

If you recall, the film starts with a large dragonfly flitting around in the dusk in a New Mexico or Texas desert landscape. 

Seemingly carefree and enjoying the aura of a full moon the belligerent fly drifts towards a highway and dodges a juggernaut and other vehicles before being splattered on the windscreen of a van at about 02.58 minutes in. 

Yes, I am referring to the common phenomena in my childhood years of witnessing the slaughter and carnage of insects on the windscreen and bonnet of the family car on a typical drive to summer vacation or on an evening excursion. 

My Father would have to keep the screen-wash topped up, super strength, to try to rinse off the blood and tissue that, moments before impact belonged to a selection of God’s creatures minding their own business. 

In those days of inferior bodywork and paints on, in particular the succession of Volkswagen's that my father preferred, the constant bombardment of guts and tendons was responsible for rampant corrosion through to bare metal and the slow deterioration of roadworthiness and residual values. 

There were five of us children and invariably, after a long journey visiting Grandparents or places of interest, we would find the motion of the car and that distinctive background sound of an air cooled VW engine most soporific. 

However, the sudden, unannounced and violent thud of the skeletal frame of a bug on the windscreen would be enough to waken us in a confused and disturbed state. 

Gradually over the last few decades and so as not to be readily noticeable to drivers and nervous passengers there has been a significant decline in the numbers of insects. This dropping off in population has now reached such a troubling extent that motorists are only now realising that their windscreens are clear of squashed flies, gnats, moths and wasps. 

Some may have given this a bit of thought and attributed it to highly efficient windscreen glass, almost of self cleaning characteristics or the next generation of wipers with extra grip and debris scraping ability. It has also been suggested that cars have changed shape over time and ,being now far more aerodynamic, fewer insects are hit.

In fact we should be very concerned as to where all of the insects have gone. 

Could it be down to agricultural insecticides, climate change, habitat loss or, menacingly, a change in the appetites and tastes of the predators of insects such as spiders, birds and other creatures higher up in the food chain. 

We may prefer to have sparklingly clean windscreens and rust free car bodywork but there are deeper and worrying reasons that Entymologists are now studying intently.

An amateur Germany based organisation has been monitoring insect numbers at 100 nature reserves in Western Europe since the 1980s. Although there were the usual seasonal fluctuations in most years they discovered that from 2013 numbers began to plummet by nearly 80 per cent. What is termed ‘aerial biomass’ - or flying insects - has fallen significantly since the 1970s. Monitoring sites around Britain have failed to capture declines, although the experts believe recording may have started too late to capture the impact of increased agricultural intensification.

Since 2006, beekeepers in Britain have lost about a third of their managed bee colonies each year largely due to the loss of flower-rich grassland which has declined by 97 per cent from the 1930s, and the increased use of chemicals on crops.

Experts have expressed their concerns that this is part of the wholesale loss of small animals in recent decades.  The public know about bees and butterflies, but these are just the tip of the iceberg.  Moths, hoverflies, wasps, beetles and many other groups are now sparse where once they were abundant.

Whilst they had found evidence that the number of flying insects is falling the anecdotal observations by the public of the windscreen phenomenon is difficult to prove.

What about reports from other organisations?

The charity, Butterfly Conservation has documented a fall of insects by 40 per cent in the South of England over the past 40 years.

In Canada a project calculated that hundreds of billions of pollinating insects were probably being killed as a consequence of the increase in roadgoing vehicles on a year on year basis in North America.

Research in the UK found that a large number of stag beetles are killed by road traffic each year in Britain, with three times as many females killed as males with obvious implications for breeding and population numbers.

A recent report from the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) which brings together findings from 50 organisations, suggests there has been a 59 per cent decline in insects in the UK since 1970.

In 2004, in a unique and practical piece of research, the RSPB asked motorists to attach a piece of PVC film to their vehicles to collect insects, to see if they were declining. They recorded 324,814 ‘splats’, an average of only one squashed insect every five miles.

The survey, although ingenious was only carried out once so it was impossible to see whether bug numbers had fallen over time.

The blood and other bodily residues amassed as collateral damage on what was meant to be a pleasurable motoring journey in my childhood have made a strong impression on me. 

In my developing and adult years I have endeavoured to, where practical and safe, revive and rescue insects in distress or incapacity and I put this down to the traumatic experiences all of those years ago. 

Spiders are lifted out of bathtubs wherever I come across them, bluebottles are directed carefully to a newly opened window, wasps (those panic inducing little rascals) are playfully swotted away until they get the message and moths often find themselves tenderly cupped in an airpocket of my cushioned hands before being released into the outdoor environment.  

In closing, I must recount one of my favourite jokes of all time. 

“What is the last thing that passes through the mind of a fly as it hits a windscreen?"

The answer is available, upon request, through the comments section below if you really want to know.

Source; Science, The Daily Telegraph article

Today in 1860

From my front window I have a wonderful view across a public park..............................

There is some dispute over the actual day and date in 1860 of the inauguration ceremony for Pearson Park in Hull, Yorkshire.

The 28^th is cited but the Record of the Proceedings for the event state that the benefactor, the then Lord Mayor of Hull, Zachariah Pearson was requested to plant the first tree during a grand day of Civic pride and activity on Monday 27^th August. 

The weather in the preceding days had been very wet and there were concerns that the small village of tents and viewing balconies erected in readiness for the ceremony would be swamped or damaged by storms. The Saturday of setting up featured a violent wind which was said to have dislocated the woodwork of the main entrance, carried away some of the ornaments and played havoc with the calico-cloth barrier that had been stretched around three sides of the Park. 

Sundays weather was better as although not without showers there was an increase in general temperatures and this drew out a crowd of curious onlookers. This was seen at the time to be against the usual observances of the Sabbath. 

As well as the temporary structures there was great activity to supply and stock booths and stalls with food and drink for what was expected to be a very high attendance by dignatries and the public. 

The Park area will, even with this tarting up,  have resembled a building site as a few of the quality Villas overlooking it were little more than at shell stage but were soon covered in bunting and flags. 

Zachariah Pearson was the man of the moment. His gift of twenty seven acres specifically for a place of recreation, health and happiness of the inhabitants of Hull, his home town had been very well received although his shrewd business brain had long since calculated that the sale of plots on the outer parcels of land would, if fully disposed of to the great and the good, bring in capital receipts to more than offset the cost of the bequeathed land. 

Of course, the gift was for the land only and to some extent the City Councillors would be forced, for fear of being shamed for inaction, to carry the actual costs of setting out the roads, landscaping the greenspace, creating the lake, and providing the amenities and facilities. A Surveyors estimate for a suitable specification was £7577 (around £650,000 in todays money). 

There was some heated discussion on how this cost could be met and proposals included public subscription, using the park on a specified number of days per year for fund raising events but expressly avoiding any levy on the Civic Rates. 

Pearson himself was the first to put his name down to pledge £100. 

The Opening Ceremony could now be planned and it was hoped to meet the expectations and hopes of everyone. A Mr Enderby Jackson was entrusted to devise the amusements having already in 1860 arranged an event at the Crystal Palace in London. 

A procession that straggled over 2 miles set off from the Town Hall just after 1pm to the Park to join the massed ranks of the public on the route and in the Park itself. 

Nineteen steam ships brought some 10,000 from Lincolnshire and beyond, 20,000 came by the North Eastern Railway and 2000 by train from Holderness to the east of Hull. It is difficult to find estimates on how many Hull residents made their way there on foot but in all the total is thought to have been a good proportion of the urban population. 

The crowds appear to have been well behaved even where there was congestion and potential for aggravation. 

Three battalions numbering 1600 Volunteer Troops and two bands led the formal convoy followed by the Mayor’s Carriage, the Sheriff and officials, a further seven carriages with Civic badge holders. A crafted Temple on a float depicted the nine classical muses and tableaux of Shakespeare. A Prize Competition open to the public to write an ode in celebration of the tree planting had been won by a Sergeant Charles Wightman of the Volunteer Rifles. A large four horse drawn wagon with a printing press on it churned out copies of the £5 prize winner as it covered the route. 

There was representation by The Shipwrights Society, Hull Branch of Amalgamated Engineers, The Manchester Unity of Oddfellows, Ancient Orders of Foresters, Druids and trades organisations reflecting maritime and shore based activities and The German Working Men’s Society. 

The procession went through Lowgate, Silver Street, Whitefriargate, Junction and Waterworks Streets, Chariot and Carlisle Streets and Prospect Street before reaching the long run along Beverley Road. 

The Park grounds were said to present a really gay appearance.

The VIP balcony was central to the festivities and access to the two wings could be had for 5 shillings down to 2 shillings. Pastimes and Amusements were carried on from a multitude of colourful tents. The bad weather in the run up to the day caused the parading of the armed forces to churn up a quagmire but no one seemed to be concerned for any safety issues arising. 

At 2pm the Deed of Conveyance to gift the land was signed by all parties and Zachariah gave a rousing speech about his motivations to give the workers of Hull some reward in recreation for their endeavours and to emphasise the status of the City as an important regional trade and manufacturing centre. 

A finely made spade inscribed with a record of the occasion was presented and used to bed in a Wellingtonia Gigantea followed by a prayer by the Reverend Bonnin of Sculcoates Church. After this formality was a review of the troops.

The loose title of “Sports” in the official record of proceedings included eating and drinking, watching magic shows and contortionists, fairground type stalls, jugglers, tight rope walkers, fire walkers, glee singing, a torchlight procession and fireworks. These pyrotechnics were described as being most brilliant and embracing the Mayoral Coat of Arms. 

After they had all burnt out the people gradually left the Park and so brought the merry day to an end.

North Face of the Eiger

I have just completed my first two weeks back at work after a lengthy lay-off for a third of a year (that does sound a long time) after sustaining an injury from falling down a hole. 

I wrote, just a few days ago about the process of, and my feelings about getting back to normal and I am genuinely pleased and thrilled to be "back on the tools", as they say. 

There have been awkward moments in the last ten working days. 

One of the main obstacles is, in my still pity inspiring state of crutch supported and dragging poorly leg, to win over those whom I meet in their homes, whether they are owner occupiers and selling to my Clients or just refinancing or seeking a house valuation for other purposes, ie Bank of Mum and Dad, Tax Planning, Equity Release and many others. 

I do have pre-arranged appointments and so the householders are expecting someone to knock or sound the bell at the allotted time but yet there has been a look of shock and surprise on the doorstep when they first focus on my appearance. 

I have taken to wearing a black backpack with my essential surveying equipment in it and this, when regarded in the context of my two piece business suit, shiny city shoes and tidy hair, does give me the demeanour of a lone Jehovah’s Witness, Billy no mates Mormon or, similar to a young lad whose rounds include my own house, someone selling domestic products as part of a rehabilitation or prison rehabilitation scheme. 

It has crossed my mind to start the conversation on the front door threshold with the line “Have you come to know Jesus” but in these politically correct times that we live in this could easily backfire on me, say for example if the recipient of this question was a committed follower of a specific religion, a fearsome atheist, agnostic or heaven (insert your own divine place here) forbid an actual practicing Witness or Mormon (other faiths are available). 

I do live and work in a multi-cultural area and so would also have to be able to offer other salutations to really make my idea of a practical joke all inclusive. I should accept that it could be just too difficult. 

I do know my job title in Polish and Hungarian which has smoothed over a few potential misunderstandings in a darkened hallway or bathroom doorway upon the occasion when I have entered a property using keys assuming it to be empty or at least vacant of occupants. 

If the homeowner is anticipating my arrival at the agreed time then they will invariably be looking out anxiously for what is their perception of a Surveyor. 

My laboured progress through a gate, I have perfected a deft flick of the rubber foot on my crutch to release a standard type latch, usually emits a metallic sound that causes the curtains or blinds to twitch. It might take me a couple of minutes to negotiate a brick or paving slab pathway or raised steps to a front door and I can well imagine the occupants mistiming their own walk to the front door and hesitating about the delay between gate noise and doorbell. 

At one difficult approach, a couple of days ago, the front door flew open and a large hairy dog shot out and bounced off my poorly leg. I flinched and grimaced but this was not noticed as a youngster crashed past me in pursuit of the wayward hound. The lady of the house, his mother, shouted in an undignified manner for the calibre of that location, to put the dog on a lead and then turned to me to say “They just won’t be told, will they at that age”, I replied “ Yes, dogs are like that aren’t they”. 

She laughed and that set her nerves at rest.

For the next two hours the woman followed me closely all about the house keenly moving what she regarded as potential impedences to my ungainly walking, and in general being all fussy and ultra-considerate. 

I appreciated her concern but truthfully she did get a bit in the way and I was thwarted in my usual survey practices of easing up carpet edges, poking holes in walls with my damp meter and having a good snoop in cupboards, nooks and crannies in all of the rooms. 

At one point, after having completed the ground floor inspection, I thought she made a move as if to offer to carry me up the stairs but that would be, in equal measure, above the call of duty, downright weird and on the basis of our respective sizes, a physical impossibility.

The inspection was soon completed and I declined additional help to carry my equipment or accompany me to my car. 

A number of things have come out of my impaired mobility. 

One is to really appreciate what those of a similar temporary or more life altering disability have to put up with in terms of poor accessibility to fundamental places and things but the other,  more critically , is how the attitude of others can make such experiences a complete pleasure or a horrendous trial to be endured with courage and dignity. 

Stuff and Nonsense in Daytime Britain

I drift in and out of people's homes every working day.

In the busier times of the year this could be one property on the hour, every hour between 10am and 5pm allowing time for travelling, snacking, becoming distracted by the sight of a flock of geese in flight and the occasional stop for a power nap.

A common factor regardless of type, size and value is that somewhere in the house a television or multiple televisions will be switched on.

I can therefore look forward to a snapshot of the broadcast content of daytime TV.

My overall opinion is that I am extremely thankful to be employed and therefore able to choose not to be subjected to the bland, meaningless and ultimately frivolent nature of the output.

My day of wandering voyeurism usually starts with being confronted by one of those programmes where members of the public willingly and gleefully reveal what they have been up to and with whom and how many times when they should know better and perhaps think about getting out and meeting people other than close relatives.

It is quite compulsive viewing, however, and I may be seen to linger awhile in the room supposedly engrossed in the search for dampness, saggy floorboards or electrical sockets but otherwise absorbed in all the confessions of sordid and disgraceful behaviour.

I invariably have to vacate the premises before the big reveal of the show where the results of a lie detector or paternity test are revealed to a studio audience either sobbing in sympathy or ready to form a lynch mob.

I have however already come to my own conclusions on the guilt or not of persons involved  from the snippets of information I have been able to assimilate by eavesdropping from various locations in the house.

One day it would be interesting to compare my judgement with the actual outcome.

By my next appointment it is time for the first of the property programmes where presenters escort prospective, but ultimately doomed and failed, purchasers around a series of homes usually well beyond their budgetary range. It is a rich seam of themes and connotations with escaping to the country, escaping out of the country or just escaping from reality being most prominent. The wealthier house hunters have a budget of seven figures at their disposal and consequently the producers do not need to stray anywhere out of London and the Home Counties unless there is a the complete workings of a town to be had for the same sort of money up north.

Unfortunately most house buying and selling programmes shown today are hopelessly out of date and this is usually acknowledged in the final credits with the admission that prices mentioned were those from the boom years 2005 to 2008.

In their favour the TV companies have moved with the economic times and day time content includes shows where someones home, hopes and aspirations, accumulated in the boom years, can be purchased at auction for a few pence following its Repossession by the mortgage company.

Under the hammer it may be called but under the cosh it is more like.

By lunchtime it is casual chat show time. My favourite involves four women who discuss deep rooted and topical issues with considerable knowledge and compassion but always make sure that the subject is steered back to sex, their own middle age type, husbands and lovers as quickly as possible.

Early afternoon marks the emergence of programmes loosely based on the antiques market.

This can range from strangers raiding your personal possessions, carefully archived in the loft, and forcing you to part with them thankfully and with grace in a Sale Room to haggling and pressurising already down at heel dealers to part with their stock at, frankly, a shameful discount. Not wanting to appear greedy in front of intrusive camera and production crews they always concede but may well cry into their Toby jugs and Lalique Vases in the back room of the shop later.

My conclusion from watching the antique themed programmes is that the demand for curios, collectables and ephemera is virtually zero. Teams competing to sell at a profit always struggle to accumulate mere pence and suffer the humiliation at the hands of the cravat and blazer wearing experts for their purchases which are invariably based on emotion and nostalgia and not the latest Millers Antiques Price Guide.

There is often desperation in the voices of the so called experts as their own sourced, reasoned and validated "Star" lots crash and burn at the auction rooms. Still, I could have told them that the market for embroidered quilted smoking jackets is a bit fragile at present, what with the recession, the health implications over tobacco and us being in the 21st Century and not the 19th.

The patter of many of the now celebrity status Specialists as they sit in a field and receive those hopefully bearing a previously unknown Rembrandt, Clarice Cliff rarity of a full set of Wade Whimseys probes cleverly to reveal the facts of the item.

One man turned up with a stuffed dog.

The authority on taxidermy was enthralled and regaled the man on the rarity and beauty of his possession. It was a truly great find. "Did he  know", the expert enquired "what it would fetch in good condition?".

"Sticks" was the reply.

(Third time of publishing from 2013)

Urban Growths

There are those who will always garden- for food, for pleasure, for the feeling of productivity, for health and exercise, for nutrition, for love of the outdoors. 

There are thousands of reasons why people find a relationship with plants important.


It is also true that some people need gardens and seek them out wherever they are, while others do not feel that pull.

City-dwellers are not fundamentally different from those who live in less populated areas, in that they too want healthy food and a chance to spend time outdoors in lush, green spaces.

Cities draw people for many reasons- be it potential for financial success, access to knowledge, art, literature, other human beings, a desire for a close community with little need for transportation, the list goes on and on.


On May 23, 2007 for the first time in human history, the world population became more urban than rural. 

That is, more people live in cities and towns than in less inhabited areas. Between now and 2030 nearly all population growth will be in urban areas of developing nations, where some cities are growing two or three times faster than the country’s overall population. This trend is equivalent to adding a city of one million residents every week (UN-HABITAT 2004).


Gardening has been in and out of style throughout history and culture. 

Sometimes it is integral to survival as in the gardens of the Jewish ghettos of Europe in the 1930s and 40s. Sometimes it brings simple pleasure as in the lush gardens of the Roman and Arabic cultures and before in ancient cultures.


Since the settlement of nomadic peoples into settlements and communities, cities have been inextricably connected with the crops that sustain them. Food production had to take place close to cities because transportation was slow and food was perishable. Food was grown either within or directly bordering the limits of the town. 

Many civilizations had complex and efficient forms of growing and transporting foods to sustain cities.


In ancient Sumer, said to be one of the first agrarian civilisations in the fertile cresent, about 90% of the population, living in cities ,were food-producing peasants working in the surrounding well irrigated fields.


Large cities are not new. 

More than a thousand years ago, Baghdad was home to in excess of one million people and the floating islands of Mexico city fed its population of 200,000. These were the megacities of the past. Archeologists frequently find sites with incredible earth and water works in and around ancient cities.


Machu Picchu, the ancient Incan city in what is now Peru was well known for supporting itself on terraced and irrigated fields surrounding the mountain city.


There were frequently kitchen gardens and orchards within the walls of medieval fortesses.


In Pompeii each household had its own gardens used not only for food but also as a central place for the family to socialise.


The culture of Arabia grew beautiful gardens full of fruit trees and ornamental irrigation in the form of pools and streams throughout their towns and cities, and spread these gardens to every place they moved around the Mediterranean and into Europe.


Historically, people have used urban agriculture for more than just supplying food.


Excrement and wastewater may be bad for human health, but they can be excellent for fertilising crops. In nineteenth-century Paris, gardeners found an excellent way to turn unwanted horse manure from all over the city into valuable salad greens that were available year-round. Every year they turned over one million tons of stable horse manure (the city’s transportation service) into 100,000 tons of out-of-season salad, harvested 3 to 6 times a year. So much salad was produced that every person in paris could have eaten 50kg per year. The production was biggest in the last third of the 1800’s. Today there is a Marais district, but the name is all that is left of the expansive market gardens that covered a sixth of the city.


War gardens played an important role in the nation-wide effort in both the two world conflicts. These victory gardens made gardening a patriot activity and introduced gardening as an activity for everyone, not just those too poor to buy their own food.


Later, in the late 1960s and 1970s, community gardening started to make a comeback as a hobby. Organic gardening and community farms became popular and many cities around the country started community garden schemes for their residents. Not only were urban gardens important for food, but also to bring pleasure and and create a community space in the community.Urban allotments have also sprung up in many urban and metropolitan areas.


Urban agriculture can be done in a wide variety of places: vacant sites, back yards, rooftops, window containers, city parks, roadside verges, steep slopes, river banks,beneath high tension lines, beside railway lines , in schoolyards, hospitals, at the boundary of cities, even underground or up the sides of buildings.


So city dwellers-what are you waiting for. Get Digging.

(Source; Gratefully acknowledged- Sprouts in The Sidewalk Blog 2008)

Made in Hull

Hull, Yorkshire is a great musical city. 

Perhaps not as recognised in the media as the Northern Powerhouses of Manchester, Liverpool and Sheffield but nevertheless a major contributor to the music scene nationally and on a global scale. 

In this year, 2017, of Hull as UK City of Culture there has been the emphasis on celebrating home grown talent. One trio who have been prominent are of course Ronson, Bolder and Woodmansey, collectively the Spiders from Mars backing band of David Bowie. 

However another three founder members of a band who hail from Hull are by no means out of place in being added to this auspicious company. 

They may not be as well known but Matthewman, Denman and Cooke along with one Helen Adu contributed and collaborated to form, in an authoritative poll, the 50^th of the 100 greatest bands of all time. 

Paul Anthony Cooke, drummer and songwriter met Paul Denman, bass guitar in Hull in 1977 when they formed "The Posers". Although part of a lively music scene in the city it was seen as necessary to move to London in 1980 to try to break into the big time, the launch pad being the possibility of securing a record contract. 

They were not successful and "The Posers" disbanded after a year in the Capital and Denman was more than ready to return to his home city and former full time employment in the shipbuilding industry. 

In 1982 Cooke was approached by Stuart Matthewman who at that time was in a Mod band called "The Odds" about auditioning for a London based funk band called "Arriva". 

Matthewman had just finished touring with Raving Rupert, an Elvis impersonator but fancied his chances to put his multi-instrumentalist skills to better use. 

It was at "Arriva" auditions in 1982 that Paul and Stuart first came across the singer Helen Adu. 

The existing line up of "Arriva" were not very inspiring as it seems and Matthewman was signed up immediately to give some dynamism and credibility to the band. Two days later Cooke joined and it was on his recommendation that his former associate, Paul Denman brought his bass guitar to the party. 

The trio played under the name "Pride" and with Adu had some initial airplay on the BBC Oxford Roadshow in February 1983 and in the following May were booked to play at Danceteria in New York, USA. 

The band profile was developing well although there was no possibility of any of the four members getting paid and there would be no guarantee of an income until a record contract was signed. 

The band manager, Lee Barrett, who had a day job as a roofer, was new to the business but obviously saw the potential of "Pride". 

Two offshoot bands were formed, the first PSP named after the Christian names of the musician trio and the other around Helen Adu and pronounced Sharday. 

Twice weekly rehearsals at Solidlight Studios in Camden, London saw the band developing what was an unprecedented sound in the music charts and the lead singer, Sade, had a fantastic charisma and stage presence as well as a smooth, soulful, jazz based and sophisti-pop voice. 

The band collaborated on a number by a former associate Ray St John called Diamond Life and this, after adaptation and rewriting was to later become the iconic Sade track, Smooth Operator. 

At Ronnie Scott's Club, London in December 1982 the band made quite an impression and a number of record companies were keen to sign them. 

It was still a difficult and testing time for the band members, a case of so near but so far to fame and fortune. They had not been paid or at least with any regularity for the previous two years, Matthewman’s mother in Hull was upset that her son was not being paid and may have wanted him to come home to find steady employment. 

In the summer of 1983 the record label RCA paid £10,000 for recording sessions and master tapes were made that would contribute to the acclaimed first album, Diamond Life, in the following year. 

The long awaited thrust into the limelight brought with it the usual stresses and pressures on the band. Whether down to inexperience of management, naiveity of hard working musicians or political infighting Paul Cooke played his last performance for the band in Vienna in December 1983. In a messy situation he was just told that his services were no longer required. He returned to Hull. 

Sometime in that same year Paul Hale was drafted into the band and the amended line up with Denman, Matthewman and Helen Adu emerged as the hottest proposition in pop music in the mid 1980’s. 

As well as multi award winning albums ,song writing recognition and chart topping success the artist Sade and the band performed at Live Aid from Wembley in 1985 and went on to sell 75 million records worldwide. The role played by the original trio from Hull cannot be overlooked. 

Unfortunately, Cooke received no recognition for his co-writing and drumline contributions to seven of the Diamond Life tracks after he had left the main line up and there followed many years of litigation and contractural wranglings between Cooke and the collective members of Sade and management. 

Such is the pop music business. 

Taking Stock

This is the transcript of a comedy sketch by John Finnemore, an accomplished writer and performer who has enjoyed success in his own name and as a panellist and pundit on TV and Radio. It is clever in its idea and delivery and is entitled "Investment Manager"

Scene- two friends stand at the bar in a traditional English pub.

Same again?

Thanks Mate, cheers

Look we’re best mates aren’t we?

Of course we are

Okay, so I’m gonna ask you something now that I’ve been meaning to ask for years and years.

Am I going to like it?

No, its nothing really, its’s um well, you’re rich aren’t you?

I do alright

You’re rich, proper rich so the thing is, the question is , what is it that you do?

You know what I do, I’m an Investment Manager

Yeah, but what is that? What is it that you actually do?

I trade in securities, commodities and futures with other brokers around the world

But how does that make you rich? It all boils down to swapsies doesn’t it so if you and a guy in Tokyo do a swap of currencies, commodities or whichever then surely one of you must be doing better out of it than the other?

Sort of, yes

So one of you should be poorer but all Stockbrokers are rich even if some are doing worse swaps, you are still all rich

I don’t know

How can that be possible? It’s like making money out of nothing.

What, like Alchemy?

What?

Alchemy, turning base metals into gold.

Seriously?

It used to be taken very seriously indeed. Alchemy was a respected Profession with Guilds, laboratories. Isaac Newton wrote more about alchemy than he did about physics.

Why are you going on about alchemy?

I don’t know. It was just you talking about making money out of nothing. It just reminded me about something. If someone actually did it, you know, found a way to make gold out of tin what would he do with his discovery?

Make himself loads of gold?

Then he’s just weakening the supply. Gold is only valuable because it is rare. Turn tin into gold and you’re not going to make tin as valuable as gold but simply gold as cheap as tin.

He could Patent it and sell the invention

He could but there were so many alchemists in those days it would’t take very long for the rest of them to work out how and then you’re in the same situation. The markets would be flooded with gold and the invention is worthless.

So what would you do?

I would gather all the Guild of Alchemists together , tell them I’ve cracked it and agree to share the secret but only if they all swear to make only enough gold to make them rich and not devalue it.

If all the alchemists suddenly got rich then people would guess so the other condition would have to be that they would all agree to give up alchemy, let it die away and find some other profession.

What sort of profession?

Something associated with the supply of gold into the market. Something that everyone would take for granted as making people rich but at the same time too complex for anyone other than a qualified member of the Guild to understand. That way you could keep the system going for generations handing the secret down.

What would that be exactly?

Who knows? I’ll tell you a funny story though. Between 1780 and 1800 Alchemy almost entirely died out and the London Stock Exchange was formed in 1801.

So what?

Oh, nothing, I’m just rambling on. Another drink?

It is my round.

No, I’ll get them in. I made a bit of money today.