It is a sign of how much the Service Industries account for the numbers of the UK population in employment that just about everyone I pass or meet in the street is wearing a lanyard and attached to it some form of identity badge.
It is not just as a means of identification but also an indication that some form of security vetting has been carried out in the interests of safeguarding the general public.
The poshest of ID cards can also facilitate entry into a place of work through sophisticated algorithms and barcodes, entitle the wearer to use the amenities in the office or factory and form a permanent and accountable record of punctuality, attendance and discipline.
In spite of the potential for Big Brother type surveillance these bits of official adornment are worn with great pride and as a badge to demonstrate being in work over and above those who not in such a fortunate position. I suppose in the past this was indicated by seeing people in the street wearing work overalls, a leather jerkin, a donkey jacket , paint and plaster spattered dungarees or specialised uniforms and protective gear.
I myself have been provided with a Corporate Logo lanyard and a laminated photo card denoting that I am acting on behalf of the Company and am on official business.
This does open doors for me although turning up at a pre-arranged and confirmed appointment, wearing a suit, carrying surveying ladders, clipboard and other equipment is a bit of a giveaway as to the purpose of my visit to a property.
As it is that lanyard and card have been rather problematic to me in my everyday workload. Many a time I have almost been strangled as I have clambered out of the car only to snag the thing on the retracting seat belt. It can also attach itself to buttons, knobs, curtain tie-backs, bathroom fittings and garden shrubbery causing some discomfort and, if seen by the householder, a deal of embarrassment.
Another issue that happens quite frequently is that the card detaches itself from the spring clip on the lanyard and without any prior indication.
I have written before about having to return to a house and with the co-operation of a home-owner carrying out a detailed back-tracking search for the wayward ID card. On that occasion I found it in the bottom of a hallway cupboard resting against Henry the Hoover but only after a full lap around the house and even up in the roofspace.
If the detachment is over a wooden or ceramic tiled floor I can often hear the sound of the impact of plastic. However, the trend for plush deep pile carpets and that being with the demise of the popularity of laminate in UK homes gives me no chance of detection.
There was a bit of a strange pattern around the separation of card from lanyard in that it was more likely to happen at or around 3pm on any one day. I mused on this mysterious coincidence.
Being after lunch or having had a coffee I thought that a slight involuntary bulge in my belly might bring about the slight opening up of the spring-clip allowing the card to cascade to the floor.
Just yesterday I realised that there could be more serious implications around the phenomena.
At some time during the inspection of a house on a modern estate my ID card did its usual walkabout. I didn't notice it and it was only after a further two appointments that the loss of it was apparent. This was both annoying and inconvenient as I would have to re-order a replacement through Head Office.
I could always get my P.A, to contact the three homeowners in case they had come across the offending item although frankly it could have gone missing at any point inside, outside or in between any of those addresses.
As it was I wrote it off as lost. A brand new photo ID would already be on its way to me.
It was during today that a man telephoned me to say that he had found my card.
I remembered him from the first job of the previous day.
He was mystified in that he had come across it under his bed.
My mind raced back to that appointment. The man had been the only person in attendance. I seem to recall that his living room was a bit of a man-cave with a huge plasma screen TV, a parked bicycle and two arcade sized fruit machines.
I was relieved to find out that there was no lady of that house because I could imagine the questions asked between a couple upon the discovery of someones ID card in such a potential sensitive place.
Tuesday, 28 January 2020
Monday, 27 January 2020
The Problem of the root
Gardening can be quite dangerous.
There have been injuries and even fatalities from simple procedures such as pruning, insecticide spraying, hedge trimming, using the smallest of implements and even inhaling the surprisingly toxic contents of a compost bin.
Such tragedies and incidents take place today in our supposedly enlightened times when we can dismiss superstitions and myths as possible causes of the misfortune.
That was certainly not the case in Medieval times when much mystery and hocus-pocus had a close association with things in the natural world.
Take, as a prime example the Mandrake root.
It is not now in the public perception apart from it featuring in the Harry Potter books as a fear inducing theme but in the Middle Ages it was a sought after and valuable tool of quack doctors, official physicians and as part of crude organically based home remedies.
For all of the reputation of the Mandrake root it is actually part of a large and familiar family of vegetables which includes tomatoes, the potato, chillies, aubergines, peppers and tobacco. Common to the genus the Mandrake shares alkaloids which have the power , in equal proportion, to cure or kill ailments afflicting mankind.
The roots, leaves and fruits of other plants in the same genus can bring about hallucinations.
The European derivative has properties to alleviate such medical complaints as stomach ulcers, colic, constipation and hay fever, It can also trigger vomiting, serve as a remedy for sleeplessness and increase sexual activity.
Behind the legends and myths of the Mandrake root is its uncanny resemblance to the human form.
It is a bit like a parsnip in its subterranean shape. A split into two distinctive tubers added to a generous foliage growth gave the impression to our somewhat more innocent or gullible ancestors that they were digging up a body with an unruly mop of hair.
It was not therefore a great leap forward for the Mandrake root to assume a living identity and there developed the popular myth that at the point of being excavated an ear splitting scream could be heard that would strike down the perpetrator imminently.
In spite of the risks of being a Mandrake root supplier to Medieval herbalists and the like the financial rewards made a potential brush with the cold, clammy fingers of death a worthwhile career.
In order to make money and avoid a nasty end gave rise to the following modus operandi of the Mandrake Hunters.
The individual on the search for the elusive root would approach the potential source under cover of darkness. Midnight was the appropriate hour. They would be accompanied by a dog and carrying a trumpet ( the person, not the dog of course)
It would be a bit of stifled atmosphere as an application of beeswax will have been to the ears (again the man and not the dog)
As the prophetic hour approached the dog would be tied to the stem of the Mandragora and whilst simultaneously blowing the said instrument the unfortunate hound would be whipped.
The bolting of the dog, unearthing of the precious root and the avoidance of death by the combination of the trumpet and self induced deafness ensured that there would be an exchange for cash of the upended vegetable when later trading it with the medicine man.
What a performance.
There have been injuries and even fatalities from simple procedures such as pruning, insecticide spraying, hedge trimming, using the smallest of implements and even inhaling the surprisingly toxic contents of a compost bin.
Such tragedies and incidents take place today in our supposedly enlightened times when we can dismiss superstitions and myths as possible causes of the misfortune.
That was certainly not the case in Medieval times when much mystery and hocus-pocus had a close association with things in the natural world.
Take, as a prime example the Mandrake root.
It is not now in the public perception apart from it featuring in the Harry Potter books as a fear inducing theme but in the Middle Ages it was a sought after and valuable tool of quack doctors, official physicians and as part of crude organically based home remedies.
For all of the reputation of the Mandrake root it is actually part of a large and familiar family of vegetables which includes tomatoes, the potato, chillies, aubergines, peppers and tobacco. Common to the genus the Mandrake shares alkaloids which have the power , in equal proportion, to cure or kill ailments afflicting mankind.
The roots, leaves and fruits of other plants in the same genus can bring about hallucinations.
The European derivative has properties to alleviate such medical complaints as stomach ulcers, colic, constipation and hay fever, It can also trigger vomiting, serve as a remedy for sleeplessness and increase sexual activity.
Behind the legends and myths of the Mandrake root is its uncanny resemblance to the human form.
It is a bit like a parsnip in its subterranean shape. A split into two distinctive tubers added to a generous foliage growth gave the impression to our somewhat more innocent or gullible ancestors that they were digging up a body with an unruly mop of hair.
In spite of the risks of being a Mandrake root supplier to Medieval herbalists and the like the financial rewards made a potential brush with the cold, clammy fingers of death a worthwhile career.
In order to make money and avoid a nasty end gave rise to the following modus operandi of the Mandrake Hunters.
The individual on the search for the elusive root would approach the potential source under cover of darkness. Midnight was the appropriate hour. They would be accompanied by a dog and carrying a trumpet ( the person, not the dog of course)
It would be a bit of stifled atmosphere as an application of beeswax will have been to the ears (again the man and not the dog)
As the prophetic hour approached the dog would be tied to the stem of the Mandragora and whilst simultaneously blowing the said instrument the unfortunate hound would be whipped.
The bolting of the dog, unearthing of the precious root and the avoidance of death by the combination of the trumpet and self induced deafness ensured that there would be an exchange for cash of the upended vegetable when later trading it with the medicine man.
What a performance.
Saturday, 25 January 2020
Robbie Burns Beaten in the FA Cup
It is the celebration of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns this very day, 25th January and so to get us all in the spirit of the event here are a few olde worlde Scottish sayings and words and other more modern ones...
I admit that this is an old piece of writing but I've been to an FA Cup Match instead of celebrating in the traditional manner. I'll do it later in the week..........................
I admit that this is an old piece of writing but I've been to an FA Cup Match instead of celebrating in the traditional manner. I'll do it later in the week..........................
- I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug! – I’ll give you a slap on the ear.
- Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye! – What’s meant to happen will happen.
- Skinny Malinky Longlegs! – A tall thin person.
- Lang may yer lum reek! – May you live long and stay well.
- Speak o’ the Devil! – Usually said when you have been talking about someone – they usually appear.
- Black as the Earl of Hell’s Waistcoat! – Pitch black.
- Failing means yer playin! – When you fail at something at least you’re trying.
- Mony a mickle maks a muckle! – Saving a small amount soon builds up to a large amount.
- Keep the heid! – Stay calm, don’t get upset.
- We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns! – We’re all God’s children, nobody is better than anybody else – we’re all equal.
- Dinnae teach yer Granny tae suck eggs! – Don’t try to teach someone something they already know.
- Dinnae marry fur money! – Don’t marry for money – you can borrow it cheaper.
- Is the cat deid? – Has the cat died? Means your trousers are a bit short – like a flag flying at half mast.
- Haud yer wheesht! – Be quiet.
- Noo jist haud on! – Now just hold it, slow down, take your time.
- Hell slap it intae ye! – Means it’s your own fault.
- I’m fair puckled! – I’m short of breath.
- Do yer dinger. – Loudly express disapproval.
- Gie it laldy. – Do something with gusto.
- Ah dinnae ken. – I don’t know.
- Haste Ye Back! – Farewell saying meaning “return soon”.
- It’s a dreich day! – Said in reference to the weather, when it’s cold, damp and miserable.
Some Scottish sayings that are not so old ……
- Gonnae no’ dae that! – Going to not do that.
- Pure dead brilliant – Exceptionally good.
- Yer bum’s oot the windae – You’re talking rubbish.
- Am pure done in – I’m feeling very tired.
- Am a pure nick – I don’t look very presentable.
- Ah umnae – I am not.
- Ma heid’s mince – My head’s a bit mixed up.
- Yer oot yer face! – You’re very drunk.
- Yer aff yer heid – You’re off your head – a little bit daft.
And some Scottish slang words ……
- Aboot – About
- Ain – Own
- Auld – Old
- Aye – Yes
- Bahooky – Backside, bum
- Bairn – Baby
- Bampot- Idiot
- Barry- splendid
- Baw – Ball
- Bawface – Describes someone with a big round face.
- Ben – Mountain, or through
- Bevvy-drink
- Bide – Depending on the context, means wait, or stay.
- Blether – Talkative, when referred to a person. To “have a blether” is to have a chat.
- Blutered- very drunk
- Boggin-filthy or disgusting
- Bonnie – Beautiful
- Bowfing – Smelly, horrible
- Braw – Good, or brilliant
- Breeks – Trousers
- Coo – Cow
- Clorty- Filthy
- Crabbit – Bad tempered
- Cry – Call, as in what do you call him?
- Dae – Do
- Dauner – Walk – “I’m away for a dauner”
- Didnae – Didn’t
- Dinnae – Don’t
- Dour- glum
- Drap – Drop
- Dreep – Drip
- Drookit – Soaking wet
- Druth- thirsty
- Dug – Dog
- Dunderheid, Eejit, Galoot, Numptie – All mean idiot
- Dunt – Bump
- Eedjit- idiot
- Feart – Afraid
- Fusty- mouldy
- Frae – From
- Galoot- idiot
- Gallus – Bravado, over-confident
- Gang – Go
- Gaunnae – Going to
- Geggie – Mouth, as in “shut your geggie”
- Glaikit – Stupid, slow on the uptake
- Goonie – Nightgown
- Greet – Cry
- Gubbed - Badly
- Gumption – Common sense, initiative
- Gurne- Sulk
- Guttered- Drunk
- Gutties - Plimsolls
- Hae – Have
- Hame – Home
- Hammered- Drunk
- Haud – Hold
- Haver – Talk rubbish
- Hing – Hang
- Hoachin’ – Very busy
- Hokin’ – Rummaging
- Honkin’, Hummin’, Howlin’ – Bad smell
- Hoose – House
- Houghin - Revolting
- Hunner – Hundred
- Hurkle Durkle - messing about
- Huvnae – Haven’t
- Invershnecky- Inverness
- Jobbie - going for shit
- Keech - bird poo
- Keek – A little look
- Ken – Know
- Lum – Chimney
- Mair – More
- Mannie - little man
- Manky - Filthy
- Merrit – Married
- Messages - groceries
- Mockit, Mingin’, Boggin’ – All mean dirty
- Moose – Mouse
- Naw – No
- Neep, Tumshie – Turnip
- Noo – Now
- Numpty - idiot
- Oot – Out
- Peely Wally – Pale
- Piece – A sandwich
- Poke – (to poke – to prod) (a poke – a paper bag)
- Pus - Mouth
- Radgees - Crazy young lads
- Reek – Smell, emit smoke
- Riddy – A red face, embarrassed
- Scran - Food
- Screwball – Unhinged, mad
- Scullery – Kitchen
- Scunnered – Bored, fed up
- Shoogle – Shake
- Shoogly – Shaky, wobbly
- Shuftie - take a look
- Shunky - Toilet
- Simmet – Gents singlet
- Skelp – Slap
- Skoosh – Lemonade (or fizzy drink)
- Skrechin- shriek
- Sleekit – Sly
- Stookie – Plaster cast (for a broken bone)
- Stour – Dust
- Swally - drunk
- Tartle - panic when forgetting someones name
- Tattie – Potato
- Tattyboggler - Scarecrow
- Telt – Told
- Teuchtar - someone for far north west Scotland
- Thon – That
- Wean – Child
- Weegie- Glasgow person
- Wellies – Wellington boots
- Wheest - be quiet
- Whit – What
- Willnae – Will not
- Widnae – Would not
- Windae – Window
- Wummin – Women
- Ye – You
- Yer – Your
- Yin – One
Thursday, 23 January 2020
Hip Hip Hurrey
I am just starting to read the wonderful selection of books that I received as Christmas Gifts.
The dark, cold depressing evenings of January are the ideal setting to curl up with a bit of fiction, fact or just plain nonsense and to pass the time before sleep takes over.
One very interesting publication was provided by my youngest brother along with an annual subscription to a magazine offering intelligent and measured views and opinions on the beautiful game- Association Football.
The book as part of the generous present is "Football Cliches" by Adam Hurrey, writer and contributor to blogs and articles about the sport.
One superb chapter is a collection of 101 descriptive terms around the scoring of a goal........ or not.
I have shamelessly reproduced these as a basic list as many do not require any explanation whatsoever, so well are they known from being commonly heard during any broadcasted football match or overheard by pundits and supporters in everyday analysis and conversation in the pub or by the water cooler.
I am sure that you will have your own favourites which may not appear even in Hurrey's very comprehensive terminological study. Here goes;
Fired
Drilled
Rifled
Thundered
Hammered
Powered
Slammed
Rammed
Blasted
Exocet
Howitzer
Driven
Arrowed
Thumped
Lashed
Smashed
Belted
Crashing header
Towering header
Nodded
Glancing header
Bullet header
Stooping header
Diving header
Guided
With aplomb
Impudent chip
Audacious lob
Flicked
Backheeled
Dinked
Passed
Caressed
Slotted
Steered
Curled
Swept
Turned in
Stabbed
Prodded
Poked
Stroked
In off the backside
Deflected
Own goal
Scrambled
Bundled
Plundered
Notched
Netted
Bagged
Tapped
Converted
Dispatched
Buried
Squeezed
Slid
Floated
Sailed
Screamer
Hooked
Acrobatic volley
Dipping volley
Flying volley
Clipped
Trickled
The slightest of touches
Tucked
Clinical finish
Walking it in
Cross-cum-shot
Rolled into an empty net
Sucked the ball in
Blazed
Skied
Spooned
Ballooned
Screwed
Sliced
Dragged
Crashed against the woodwork
Cannoned
The ball is in the net
If anything almost hit too well
Fluffed his lines
Squandered
Wasted
Denied by the woodwork
When it seemed easier to score
My grandmother could have scored that
Sitter
Saw the headlines
Wild
Erratic
Snatched at it
Caught in two minds
Went for power over placement
Gilt edged
Tame effort
Scuffed
Air shot
I have thought of toe poked, saw the net bulge before the ball was kicked, fluked it, pile-driver, hit a divot, wicked bounce, over-played it, hit it into row F, its's gone into the car park, that's gone into orbit alright, slam-dunk, off the bar, off the post, on the roof of the net.................................
The dark, cold depressing evenings of January are the ideal setting to curl up with a bit of fiction, fact or just plain nonsense and to pass the time before sleep takes over.
One very interesting publication was provided by my youngest brother along with an annual subscription to a magazine offering intelligent and measured views and opinions on the beautiful game- Association Football.
The book as part of the generous present is "Football Cliches" by Adam Hurrey, writer and contributor to blogs and articles about the sport.
One superb chapter is a collection of 101 descriptive terms around the scoring of a goal........ or not.
I have shamelessly reproduced these as a basic list as many do not require any explanation whatsoever, so well are they known from being commonly heard during any broadcasted football match or overheard by pundits and supporters in everyday analysis and conversation in the pub or by the water cooler.
I am sure that you will have your own favourites which may not appear even in Hurrey's very comprehensive terminological study. Here goes;
Fired
Drilled
Rifled
Thundered
Hammered
Powered
Slammed
Rammed
Blasted
Exocet
Howitzer
Driven
Arrowed
Thumped
Lashed
Smashed
Belted
Crashing header
Towering header
Nodded
Glancing header
Bullet header
Stooping header
Diving header
Guided
With aplomb
Impudent chip
Audacious lob
Flicked
Backheeled
Dinked
Passed
Caressed
Slotted
Steered
Curled
Swept
Turned in
Stabbed
Prodded
Poked
Stroked
In off the backside
Deflected
Own goal
Scrambled
Bundled
Plundered
Notched
Netted
Bagged
Tapped
Converted
Dispatched
Buried
Squeezed
Slid
Floated
Sailed
Screamer
Hooked
Acrobatic volley
Dipping volley
Flying volley
Clipped
Trickled
The slightest of touches
Tucked
Clinical finish
Walking it in
Cross-cum-shot
Rolled into an empty net
Sucked the ball in
Blazed
Skied
Spooned
Ballooned
Screwed
Sliced
Dragged
Crashed against the woodwork
Cannoned
The ball is in the net
If anything almost hit too well
Fluffed his lines
Squandered
Wasted
Denied by the woodwork
When it seemed easier to score
My grandmother could have scored that
Sitter
Saw the headlines
Wild
Erratic
Snatched at it
Caught in two minds
Went for power over placement
Gilt edged
Tame effort
Scuffed
Air shot
I have thought of toe poked, saw the net bulge before the ball was kicked, fluked it, pile-driver, hit a divot, wicked bounce, over-played it, hit it into row F, its's gone into the car park, that's gone into orbit alright, slam-dunk, off the bar, off the post, on the roof of the net.................................
Wednesday, 22 January 2020
Happy Birthday to Allison
A short birthday message to my lovely wife, Allison
It’s here, another year on, somewhat inevitable but nevertheless it crept up very quickly.
when you were young you did not think you would make it this far,
convention says that your best years are behind you but you will prove them wrong,
you may feel that you have lost your girlish spirit but I know you have not,
you feel that time has passed you by but you have lived every second to the full,
you expected to have more in your universe , but look who you brought into the world.
where is all that ‘me’ time? Well, it is lavished on others who are richer for it,
you have not done everything you expected. There is plenty of time for that going ahead,
you have not done everything you expected. There is plenty of time for that going ahead,
you are not the one asking but the person to whom others look for wisdom and experience,
you may feel tired and without energy but you are actually very much in your prime,
you wanted to make a noise and be heard but your true value is being able to listen,
you wanted to start a revolution.
Who is to say that you have not?
Who is to say that you have not?
57, but who's counting?
(Actually written for Allison's 50th- I'm just a typically lazy Husband)
(Actually written for Allison's 50th- I'm just a typically lazy Husband)
Monday, 20 January 2020
Home Shopping Channel 1907
House and Home, lifestyle and interiors, Grand Designs, Through the keyhole, Cribs of the rich and famous, well, the list is endless but illustrates our fascination, bordering on the obsessive of all things to do with how people live.
Glossy Sunday newspaper magazines regularly have features on how individuals have restored a property authentically in sourcing, often at great expense the items of furniture, decor and fittings sympathetic to the original era.
A few make a very good living indeed in taking the money of those who have plenty of it and spending it on fitting out one or more houses that may or may not actually be occupied for any length of time.
Authenticity is the critical factor.
So what better as a reference point for how people lived in 1907 than an Auction Catalogue for what appears to be the entire contents, lock, stock and barrel of a large Lincolnshire town house from that very year.
The sale was over two days in November 1907 from a marquee in the grounds with the total of 831 individual lots allocated on a room to room basis as well as categorised into items including rich cut glass, electro-plate and cutlery, china, books, horse livery, garden and outside effects.
The Pre-Sale Announcements highlighted the more valuable, unusual and collectable lots numbering a Sheraton Mahogany Table, Axminster, Brussels and Kidderminster Carpets, a Concert standard Grand Piano by C. Bechstein, Davenport Dinner Service, Antiquarian Books and for that era a fashionable Brougham Carriage by Hart of London together with its rubber tyres, plated lamps and blue Morocco upholstery.
The reason for the sale was not stated as for example to wind up a trust, settle a bankruptcy, to meet death duties, at the end of a lease on the house itself or upon emigration of the owners.
It is however the smaller, everyday items being offered for sale in the auction that are much more interesting in visualising the lifestyle of what may have been a typical Middle or Lower Upper Class household in 1907.
Unfortunately the sale catalogue is not one that has been annotated with the actual disposal prices but then again, I do not think that is as important as the items themselves.
The opening 54 lots are from the Front Kitchen with the very first being Linoleum, as laid about 14 square yards. This is followed by a kitchen fender and hearthrug, two wood buckets, Tin Steamer, Three enamelled handbasins, a Zinc soe (whatever that may be), five frying pans, tin oval fish kettle, Hughe's spring balance, a Ewbank carpet sweeper (the modern version is still on the market today), two clothes baskets and a rolling pin.
It was evidently a well-to-do house as lots 55 onwards were from the Housemaid's Pantry with three square Japanese waiters (presumably items and not persons), mahogany knife box, duplex paraffin lamp, four Devon Ware ornaments, seven souffle dishes of fluted Foley china and an Invalid's cup on a tray.
The homeowners had an extensive cut glass collection for entertaining family and friends extending to eleven basket jelly glasses (perhaps one smashed being an odd number), twelve frosted ice plates, nine very old tall champagnes, six potted meat dishes and sundry specimen vases.
Amongst the china for sale were the main known names of Royal Crown Derby, Minton, Limoges,Oriental Ivory and Dresden.
Any gold and silver may have gone through specialist Auction Houses or to dealers as only electro-plate is listed for cutlery, gravy boats, toast racks, egg boilers,cake stands,a chop dish, and candelabras and more items by named manufacturers such as Mappin, Watts and Harton of London.
The Drawing Room appears to have been of modest size given the carpet dimensions of 16'4" by 12'2" imperial although the fashion of the day was to have a carpet square with a wood stained finished surround and so the room could actually have been a bit larger.
Plush was the theme from the Oriental hearthrug to a Black Skin rug and furnishings of a dark oak table, bamboo plant stand, Chesterfield suite, tapestry cushions, oak writing table, divan and rocking chairs, walnut card table, standard lamp, the Bechstein Grand Piano as mentioned as a notable lot, various ornaments on a classic theme, more vases and planters, framed oil paintings, a fine bracket clock by Thomas Power of Wellingborough and frilled muslin curtains in white.
The Entrance Hall was similarly grand and austere from light oak and mahogany furniture to a dinner gong and beater in a bamboo frame and various rugs including an opossum skin.
Practical items were a Milner brand fireproof safe and a circular barometer.
The Staircases and Halls were adorned with engravings and paintings on a country life theme although the house itself was in a Lincolnshire Market Town.
The further accommodation included a dining room, morning room, ante room and a housekeepers room on the ground floor, all fully carpeted, furnished and fitted.
The dining table in yet more mahogany comprised three loose leaves of 11 feet by 4 feet six inches and 12 chairs which would be enough for a good dinner party surrounded by a three tier whatnot, pedestal sideboard with cellarette and trays, 3 tier dinner wagon, a superior bookcase of around 40 square feet, a paraffin stove when the hearth was not lit and a "very good clock" by Henry Marc of Paris.
Ordinary family life in the Morning Room was quite informal with prettier carpets , a kneehole desk, brass ornaments, Indian gongs, an old cavalry sword and bayonet in a sheath, card table, various games including ping pong and draughts, easy chairs, photo frames and a pair of well known art union busts of ladies by C Delpech.
The Ante Room was more masculine in its furnishings, all mahogany , iron and copper with a Mirzapur carpet and blue felt. Seating was on a Chesterfield, corner suite and other easy chairs in view of an elephant tusk thermometer, newspaper rack and dragon feature candlesticks.
The second day of the sale in 1907 was for lots on the upper floors with a master bedroom, en suite and dressing room, three other bedrooms and two servants rooms.
The main bedroom in blue Kidderminster carpet of 15'2" by 12' as with most principal rooms of the era had a fireplace which was understandable in the pre-central heating era. Brass predominated from the fender to fireguard, companion set and coal bucket. Plumbing will also have been a bit primitive being confined to a washstand and "Esmond" toilet service and night commode. The bed of wire spring mattress measured 4 feet although this may be its height with a 5 drawer chest of drawers, Lady's wardrobe, walnut couch, work table and dressing table as the accompanying furniture.
Bedding was extravagant listed as two cushions, eiderdown coverlet, fine quality hair mattress, goose feather bolster, Witney blankets, White Marseilles quilt. a handsome duvet with sateen cover and blue satin bedspread.
Bedroom 2 evidently a guest suite reverted to a flock mattress, feather bolster and pillows, quilt and eider down but nevertheless was nicely furnished with the usual accoutrements of wardrobe, foot bath, rocking chair, arm chair, swing mirror, bookshelves, banner screen and chimney ornaments.
Bathrooms had linoleum flooring, hot water tins, night commode and a modesty screen in addition to any permanent fittings.
Other bedrooms were fitted out comfortably and modestly , one perhaps for an old or infirm family member with a hip bath, invalid food warmer and other aids.
Bedrooms of that era were places where considerable personal time was spent given the number of reclining chairs and embellishments of decoration.
Servant's quarters were more sparsely fitted out with a bed, linoluem to floors, small chest of drawers, wood chairs and sundry toilet ware. Bamboo replaced mahogany in such rooms.
The library contents took up lots 485 through to 542 on all manner of subjects. most recognisable being on religion, flora and fauna, rural agriculture and horticulture ,Modern Europe, works by Johnson, Sir Walter Scott, Tennyson, Dickens and Shakespeare.
Class issues were covered by bound copies of Punch Magazine and London Society, in fact a good, broad reference library for the informed.
Outside in the garden the Auction lots included greenhouse plants, pots, tubs, folding chairs (eight), tools, a hammock, meat safe, portable water closet and three pairs of step ladders.
It would have been fascinating to have attended this sale, albeit only one of countless numbers for a hard pressed gentry class.
The lots are not just a rather sad and melancholy selling up of someones prized possessions but also a statement of the social classes and attitudes of that era, some 110 years in the past.
Glossy Sunday newspaper magazines regularly have features on how individuals have restored a property authentically in sourcing, often at great expense the items of furniture, decor and fittings sympathetic to the original era.
A few make a very good living indeed in taking the money of those who have plenty of it and spending it on fitting out one or more houses that may or may not actually be occupied for any length of time.
Authenticity is the critical factor.
So what better as a reference point for how people lived in 1907 than an Auction Catalogue for what appears to be the entire contents, lock, stock and barrel of a large Lincolnshire town house from that very year.
The sale was over two days in November 1907 from a marquee in the grounds with the total of 831 individual lots allocated on a room to room basis as well as categorised into items including rich cut glass, electro-plate and cutlery, china, books, horse livery, garden and outside effects.
The Pre-Sale Announcements highlighted the more valuable, unusual and collectable lots numbering a Sheraton Mahogany Table, Axminster, Brussels and Kidderminster Carpets, a Concert standard Grand Piano by C. Bechstein, Davenport Dinner Service, Antiquarian Books and for that era a fashionable Brougham Carriage by Hart of London together with its rubber tyres, plated lamps and blue Morocco upholstery.
 |
| A Broom Broom Brougham |
The reason for the sale was not stated as for example to wind up a trust, settle a bankruptcy, to meet death duties, at the end of a lease on the house itself or upon emigration of the owners.
It is however the smaller, everyday items being offered for sale in the auction that are much more interesting in visualising the lifestyle of what may have been a typical Middle or Lower Upper Class household in 1907.
Unfortunately the sale catalogue is not one that has been annotated with the actual disposal prices but then again, I do not think that is as important as the items themselves.
The opening 54 lots are from the Front Kitchen with the very first being Linoleum, as laid about 14 square yards. This is followed by a kitchen fender and hearthrug, two wood buckets, Tin Steamer, Three enamelled handbasins, a Zinc soe (whatever that may be), five frying pans, tin oval fish kettle, Hughe's spring balance, a Ewbank carpet sweeper (the modern version is still on the market today), two clothes baskets and a rolling pin.
 |
| An antique Ewbank carpet sweeper (date not confirmed) |
It was evidently a well-to-do house as lots 55 onwards were from the Housemaid's Pantry with three square Japanese waiters (presumably items and not persons), mahogany knife box, duplex paraffin lamp, four Devon Ware ornaments, seven souffle dishes of fluted Foley china and an Invalid's cup on a tray.
The homeowners had an extensive cut glass collection for entertaining family and friends extending to eleven basket jelly glasses (perhaps one smashed being an odd number), twelve frosted ice plates, nine very old tall champagnes, six potted meat dishes and sundry specimen vases.
Amongst the china for sale were the main known names of Royal Crown Derby, Minton, Limoges,Oriental Ivory and Dresden.
Any gold and silver may have gone through specialist Auction Houses or to dealers as only electro-plate is listed for cutlery, gravy boats, toast racks, egg boilers,cake stands,a chop dish, and candelabras and more items by named manufacturers such as Mappin, Watts and Harton of London.
The Drawing Room appears to have been of modest size given the carpet dimensions of 16'4" by 12'2" imperial although the fashion of the day was to have a carpet square with a wood stained finished surround and so the room could actually have been a bit larger.
Plush was the theme from the Oriental hearthrug to a Black Skin rug and furnishings of a dark oak table, bamboo plant stand, Chesterfield suite, tapestry cushions, oak writing table, divan and rocking chairs, walnut card table, standard lamp, the Bechstein Grand Piano as mentioned as a notable lot, various ornaments on a classic theme, more vases and planters, framed oil paintings, a fine bracket clock by Thomas Power of Wellingborough and frilled muslin curtains in white.
The Entrance Hall was similarly grand and austere from light oak and mahogany furniture to a dinner gong and beater in a bamboo frame and various rugs including an opossum skin.
Practical items were a Milner brand fireproof safe and a circular barometer.
The Staircases and Halls were adorned with engravings and paintings on a country life theme although the house itself was in a Lincolnshire Market Town.
The further accommodation included a dining room, morning room, ante room and a housekeepers room on the ground floor, all fully carpeted, furnished and fitted.
The dining table in yet more mahogany comprised three loose leaves of 11 feet by 4 feet six inches and 12 chairs which would be enough for a good dinner party surrounded by a three tier whatnot, pedestal sideboard with cellarette and trays, 3 tier dinner wagon, a superior bookcase of around 40 square feet, a paraffin stove when the hearth was not lit and a "very good clock" by Henry Marc of Paris.
Ordinary family life in the Morning Room was quite informal with prettier carpets , a kneehole desk, brass ornaments, Indian gongs, an old cavalry sword and bayonet in a sheath, card table, various games including ping pong and draughts, easy chairs, photo frames and a pair of well known art union busts of ladies by C Delpech.
The Ante Room was more masculine in its furnishings, all mahogany , iron and copper with a Mirzapur carpet and blue felt. Seating was on a Chesterfield, corner suite and other easy chairs in view of an elephant tusk thermometer, newspaper rack and dragon feature candlesticks.
The second day of the sale in 1907 was for lots on the upper floors with a master bedroom, en suite and dressing room, three other bedrooms and two servants rooms.
The main bedroom in blue Kidderminster carpet of 15'2" by 12' as with most principal rooms of the era had a fireplace which was understandable in the pre-central heating era. Brass predominated from the fender to fireguard, companion set and coal bucket. Plumbing will also have been a bit primitive being confined to a washstand and "Esmond" toilet service and night commode. The bed of wire spring mattress measured 4 feet although this may be its height with a 5 drawer chest of drawers, Lady's wardrobe, walnut couch, work table and dressing table as the accompanying furniture.
Bedding was extravagant listed as two cushions, eiderdown coverlet, fine quality hair mattress, goose feather bolster, Witney blankets, White Marseilles quilt. a handsome duvet with sateen cover and blue satin bedspread.
Bedroom 2 evidently a guest suite reverted to a flock mattress, feather bolster and pillows, quilt and eider down but nevertheless was nicely furnished with the usual accoutrements of wardrobe, foot bath, rocking chair, arm chair, swing mirror, bookshelves, banner screen and chimney ornaments.
Bathrooms had linoleum flooring, hot water tins, night commode and a modesty screen in addition to any permanent fittings.
Other bedrooms were fitted out comfortably and modestly , one perhaps for an old or infirm family member with a hip bath, invalid food warmer and other aids.
Bedrooms of that era were places where considerable personal time was spent given the number of reclining chairs and embellishments of decoration.
Servant's quarters were more sparsely fitted out with a bed, linoluem to floors, small chest of drawers, wood chairs and sundry toilet ware. Bamboo replaced mahogany in such rooms.
The library contents took up lots 485 through to 542 on all manner of subjects. most recognisable being on religion, flora and fauna, rural agriculture and horticulture ,Modern Europe, works by Johnson, Sir Walter Scott, Tennyson, Dickens and Shakespeare.
Class issues were covered by bound copies of Punch Magazine and London Society, in fact a good, broad reference library for the informed.
Outside in the garden the Auction lots included greenhouse plants, pots, tubs, folding chairs (eight), tools, a hammock, meat safe, portable water closet and three pairs of step ladders.
It would have been fascinating to have attended this sale, albeit only one of countless numbers for a hard pressed gentry class.
The lots are not just a rather sad and melancholy selling up of someones prized possessions but also a statement of the social classes and attitudes of that era, some 110 years in the past.
Saturday, 18 January 2020
1p. Short Changed never
In the early 1970's my Dad took me to my first proper football league match.
I was 8 years old and really into the game in a big way.
The nearest team was Scunthorpe United, at that time very much habitual dwellers of the lowest league. We would drive the 8 miles or so from home and park in the brand spanking new shopping precinct before walking up Doncaster Road to the football ground.
The experience although thrilling to my younger self was also quite frightening. Inside the dour sheet metal clad structure that was The Old Showground was the antique style terracing with the only respite from a crowd surge and crush being the metal rails which were at my head height. My Dad told me that if I felt in danger I should just bob down and stay in front of the barrier.
I did, I admit, spend a few times ducking and diving in this manner as any odd noise or sounds of aggravation in the tightly packed masses behind me invoked a sense of panic. To keep things in proportion the typical Scunthorpe home attendance was probably not much more than a couple of thousand souls.
What I liked best about the Saturday afternoons out with my Dad was the shop in the football ground. Shop is a generous description as it was nothing more than a kiosk with a lift up hatch and located just inside the Donny Road entrance.
From there I bought a match programme but made sure that I had some pocket money to purchase other bits and pieces of memorabilia. Although there to support my local team I was actually a Liverpool fan. There was a strong association between Scunthorpe United and Liverpool FC in that era with the recent transfer to Anfield of Kevin Keegan and Ray Clemence who both went on to stellar careers and honours for club and country. Two prized items acquired from the shop were a vinyl pennant in Liverpool colours and a colour photograph of the first team squad.
I can still to this day recall the regular matchday line-up with Clemence, Lawler, Lindsay, Smith, Lloyd, Hughes, Heighway, Callaghan, Thompson, Toshack and Keegan.
One name that has poignancy is that of Peter Thompson as just over this Christmas period there was the sad news of his passing at age 76. It is strange even in my own senior years to read about the death of former sporting heroes and it certainly gives a feeling of your own mortality- four score years and ten and all that.
I did identify with the guy although tenuously as our names were the same with the exception of mine missing the P in the surname.
That was, however, enough of a common link for me and I assumed his role and persona in playground kickabouts, those wide ranging and seemingly endless matches on the local recreation ground with coats as goalposts or just propelling an empty tin can down the street.
As a player he was a speedy left winger and figured highly in Shankly's Liverpool Revolution which saw the Merseysiders starting to achieve what was expected of them after some fairly bleak years which saw scant League rewards ( Winners in 1964 and 1966) and just a first overall victory in 1965 FA Cup. It is hard now to comprehend that in the early 1960's Liverpool had only just returned to the top flight of football.
Thompson was a signing in 1963 from Preston North End for £37000 which in todays money is just over half a million pounds.
Although of prolific appearances for club and over a relatively injury free decade or so he was only selected some 16 times for the England national team.
This did include naming in the 1966 and 1970 World Cup Squads but his style and contribution was never exploited by Sir Alf Ramsey who did not favour wingers in his gameplay. Perhaps Thompson was too ahead of his time to benefit the National team who might have achieved more than the 1966 pinnacle of achievement to date with him in action on a more regular basis.
He left Liverpool in 1974 after a serious knee problem but continued to play for Bolton Wanderers for a further four seasons which saw them return to the old First Division. Life after football in the 1970's was more precarious than it is for the millionaires of the current game. A few of Thompson's contemporaries went into management, horse racing, general business but his retirement from the sport was rather unconventional in the coastal caravan park leisure sector.
This was followed the running of hotels in the Lake District and North Yorkshire.
His was a typical journeymans career.
There was no glamour or lucrative sponsorships but a steadfast dedication to the game.
I was 8 years old and really into the game in a big way.
The nearest team was Scunthorpe United, at that time very much habitual dwellers of the lowest league. We would drive the 8 miles or so from home and park in the brand spanking new shopping precinct before walking up Doncaster Road to the football ground.
The experience although thrilling to my younger self was also quite frightening. Inside the dour sheet metal clad structure that was The Old Showground was the antique style terracing with the only respite from a crowd surge and crush being the metal rails which were at my head height. My Dad told me that if I felt in danger I should just bob down and stay in front of the barrier.
I did, I admit, spend a few times ducking and diving in this manner as any odd noise or sounds of aggravation in the tightly packed masses behind me invoked a sense of panic. To keep things in proportion the typical Scunthorpe home attendance was probably not much more than a couple of thousand souls.
What I liked best about the Saturday afternoons out with my Dad was the shop in the football ground. Shop is a generous description as it was nothing more than a kiosk with a lift up hatch and located just inside the Donny Road entrance.
From there I bought a match programme but made sure that I had some pocket money to purchase other bits and pieces of memorabilia. Although there to support my local team I was actually a Liverpool fan. There was a strong association between Scunthorpe United and Liverpool FC in that era with the recent transfer to Anfield of Kevin Keegan and Ray Clemence who both went on to stellar careers and honours for club and country. Two prized items acquired from the shop were a vinyl pennant in Liverpool colours and a colour photograph of the first team squad.
I can still to this day recall the regular matchday line-up with Clemence, Lawler, Lindsay, Smith, Lloyd, Hughes, Heighway, Callaghan, Thompson, Toshack and Keegan.
I did identify with the guy although tenuously as our names were the same with the exception of mine missing the P in the surname.
That was, however, enough of a common link for me and I assumed his role and persona in playground kickabouts, those wide ranging and seemingly endless matches on the local recreation ground with coats as goalposts or just propelling an empty tin can down the street.
As a player he was a speedy left winger and figured highly in Shankly's Liverpool Revolution which saw the Merseysiders starting to achieve what was expected of them after some fairly bleak years which saw scant League rewards ( Winners in 1964 and 1966) and just a first overall victory in 1965 FA Cup. It is hard now to comprehend that in the early 1960's Liverpool had only just returned to the top flight of football.
Although of prolific appearances for club and over a relatively injury free decade or so he was only selected some 16 times for the England national team.
This did include naming in the 1966 and 1970 World Cup Squads but his style and contribution was never exploited by Sir Alf Ramsey who did not favour wingers in his gameplay. Perhaps Thompson was too ahead of his time to benefit the National team who might have achieved more than the 1966 pinnacle of achievement to date with him in action on a more regular basis.
He left Liverpool in 1974 after a serious knee problem but continued to play for Bolton Wanderers for a further four seasons which saw them return to the old First Division. Life after football in the 1970's was more precarious than it is for the millionaires of the current game. A few of Thompson's contemporaries went into management, horse racing, general business but his retirement from the sport was rather unconventional in the coastal caravan park leisure sector.
This was followed the running of hotels in the Lake District and North Yorkshire.
His was a typical journeymans career.
There was no glamour or lucrative sponsorships but a steadfast dedication to the game.
Wednesday, 15 January 2020
Blaydes of Glory
Today, 15th January is the anniversary of the infamous landfall of the Bounty Mutineers on Pitcairn Island (1790)
Shipbuilding and Repairing was one of the oldest and most important local industries in Hull with documented yards, staithes and docks along the course of the tidal River Hull from 1427. Not an unusual industrial process for a port town but able to thrive over many others because of the availability of oak from the hinterland and the trade with Europe for Baltic mast spars (big tree trunks) and good quality sail cloth.
Some of the dry dock basins survive today but only just. The river corridor has been identified for large scale redevelopment along the lines of a casino complex and combined commercial, retail and residential blocks. As with most ambitious and speculative projects in recessionary times there is a prolonged stay of execution for the inevitable infilling and destruction of these architectural features.
Most of the activity was around the west bank of the river running parallel to the historic Old Town and High Street. Early hand drawn maps of this location, even before the construction of the dock basins, clearly show symbolic ships hulls on the mud as a statement of intent for the merchants and entrepreneurs of the time. The subsequent permanent sites included North Bridge Yard, Number One Dry Dock, the South End Graving Dock and the most well known being Blaydes Shipyard.
It was in the yard of Benjamin Blaydes that he commissioned, for his own fleet , a small hardy collier ship in the name of Bethia in 1784. The vessel was just 2 inches short of 91 feet long and with a beam of 24'4". Cost to build was recorded at £1950 , roughly £195,000 in current monies. A short time after launch and sea trials the stocky Bethia, fully expected to ply her trade around the coastal waters of the UK was purchased by The Royal Navy at an enhanced price of £2600 turning Mr Blaydes a tidy profit.
The ship was renamed The Bounty and the rest is history or at least the Hollywood version of events, perhaps a waste of paradise. My often dormant but lingering interest in Hull's maritime heritage and in particular taking the wrapper off The Bounty story was sparked by an advertisement by a US based yacht agency.
The 1961 built replica of The Bounty or should it be just Bounty, is on the market for US$4.6m . The ship was custom made for the 1962 epic Mutiny on The...... film and has been well preserved and almost fully rebuilt on a regular basis. The replica was built on the original Admiralty Archive blueprints but as a concession for the equipment and logistics of movie making the dimensions were scaled up to 180 feet long and with a 32 foot beam. The reason, the cameras needed considerable space for operation and action shots.
In 1790 the original Bounty was torched by the mutineers upon reaching landfall on Pitcairn Island. For authenticity this was the full intention of the Director, Lewis Milestone but it appears that Marlon Brando kicked up such a fuss that the ship was spared this fate. I have yet to see this version of the film to determine if a balsa wood model filled with lighter fluid was substituted in the closing scenes or whether a very early and bright around the edges form of CGI was used.
I have not seen what the co-stars Trevor Howard and Richard Harris had to say on the subject. What is on offer for the amount of US$4.6m? The true Bounty was pretty small and a full crew was only 44 officers and men. The replica, a real party boat can accommodate 150 revellers on deck or 49 berthed sleepovers. The luxury package caters for only 12 passengers. There is 100,000 square feet of sail in full trim but I cannot really see the guests mucking in by climbing the rigging. Fletcher Christian would certainly have welcomed the modern concession of twin diesel engines.
Otherwise, it is all there. 3 masted, spanker boom, topgallant and other nautical equipment I am not sure about. The ship is in regular use and has just completed its 2011 tour of UK waters, Belgium and Scandinavia before returning to its US base but why not a quick visit to Hull?
Ironically, the replica Bounty will have crossed the latitude of the Humber a few times in its summer excursions and there would be a tremendous interest in even a short layover given the origins of the legend. I cannot promise any serious expressions of interest to purchase the vessel amongst the proud citizens of Hull but the queues on the quayside ready to mount the gang plank would be guaranteed.
When it comes to remembering the maritime heritage of the city this sort of thing really floats our boat.
I wrote this a few years ago but had to air it again with the news that The Bounty replica foundered and sank in the natural phenomena and disaster that was Hurricane Sandy in 2012. Fatalities were recorded.
Shipbuilding and Repairing was one of the oldest and most important local industries in Hull with documented yards, staithes and docks along the course of the tidal River Hull from 1427. Not an unusual industrial process for a port town but able to thrive over many others because of the availability of oak from the hinterland and the trade with Europe for Baltic mast spars (big tree trunks) and good quality sail cloth.
Some of the dry dock basins survive today but only just. The river corridor has been identified for large scale redevelopment along the lines of a casino complex and combined commercial, retail and residential blocks. As with most ambitious and speculative projects in recessionary times there is a prolonged stay of execution for the inevitable infilling and destruction of these architectural features.
Most of the activity was around the west bank of the river running parallel to the historic Old Town and High Street. Early hand drawn maps of this location, even before the construction of the dock basins, clearly show symbolic ships hulls on the mud as a statement of intent for the merchants and entrepreneurs of the time. The subsequent permanent sites included North Bridge Yard, Number One Dry Dock, the South End Graving Dock and the most well known being Blaydes Shipyard.
It was in the yard of Benjamin Blaydes that he commissioned, for his own fleet , a small hardy collier ship in the name of Bethia in 1784. The vessel was just 2 inches short of 91 feet long and with a beam of 24'4". Cost to build was recorded at £1950 , roughly £195,000 in current monies. A short time after launch and sea trials the stocky Bethia, fully expected to ply her trade around the coastal waters of the UK was purchased by The Royal Navy at an enhanced price of £2600 turning Mr Blaydes a tidy profit.
The ship was renamed The Bounty and the rest is history or at least the Hollywood version of events, perhaps a waste of paradise. My often dormant but lingering interest in Hull's maritime heritage and in particular taking the wrapper off The Bounty story was sparked by an advertisement by a US based yacht agency.
The 1961 built replica of The Bounty or should it be just Bounty, is on the market for US$4.6m . The ship was custom made for the 1962 epic Mutiny on The...... film and has been well preserved and almost fully rebuilt on a regular basis. The replica was built on the original Admiralty Archive blueprints but as a concession for the equipment and logistics of movie making the dimensions were scaled up to 180 feet long and with a 32 foot beam. The reason, the cameras needed considerable space for operation and action shots.
In 1790 the original Bounty was torched by the mutineers upon reaching landfall on Pitcairn Island. For authenticity this was the full intention of the Director, Lewis Milestone but it appears that Marlon Brando kicked up such a fuss that the ship was spared this fate. I have yet to see this version of the film to determine if a balsa wood model filled with lighter fluid was substituted in the closing scenes or whether a very early and bright around the edges form of CGI was used.
I have not seen what the co-stars Trevor Howard and Richard Harris had to say on the subject. What is on offer for the amount of US$4.6m? The true Bounty was pretty small and a full crew was only 44 officers and men. The replica, a real party boat can accommodate 150 revellers on deck or 49 berthed sleepovers. The luxury package caters for only 12 passengers. There is 100,000 square feet of sail in full trim but I cannot really see the guests mucking in by climbing the rigging. Fletcher Christian would certainly have welcomed the modern concession of twin diesel engines.
Otherwise, it is all there. 3 masted, spanker boom, topgallant and other nautical equipment I am not sure about. The ship is in regular use and has just completed its 2011 tour of UK waters, Belgium and Scandinavia before returning to its US base but why not a quick visit to Hull?
Ironically, the replica Bounty will have crossed the latitude of the Humber a few times in its summer excursions and there would be a tremendous interest in even a short layover given the origins of the legend. I cannot promise any serious expressions of interest to purchase the vessel amongst the proud citizens of Hull but the queues on the quayside ready to mount the gang plank would be guaranteed.
When it comes to remembering the maritime heritage of the city this sort of thing really floats our boat.
I wrote this a few years ago but had to air it again with the news that The Bounty replica foundered and sank in the natural phenomena and disaster that was Hurricane Sandy in 2012. Fatalities were recorded.
Sunday, 12 January 2020
Freedom for Tooting
I have campaigned for few things in my 6 decades on the planet. Save the Whales, Support for those Forced to Flee, Reflective collars for cows on common land, Against the Bedroom Tax and most recently for the Environment.
For this latest of associations I am now considered to be a terrorist. So what did I do?
In its entirety I just rode my bike, very slowly around the City Ring Road, with others on a saturday afternoon this last summer past.
That in itself was not necessarily something threatening or radical. The whole thing was very well organised, supervised and after a detailed briefing of how we should act we were, even more than usual as good citizens, mindful of the need to let emergency vehicles get past if so required.
Above all the emphasis was on maintaining or gaining the support of the wider general public as they went about their usual weekend activities in the shops and a whole raft of activities to be found in a bustling Northern regional city.
My potential inclusion on a list amongst those with particular doctrinal or brain-washed beliefs may, on reflection be on account of my regular blowing, whilst riding my bike, of a Vu-Vu-Zela.
Yes, I can see that many might regard that as being a bit subversive and menacing. I did get a bit fed up of using it but then again those on two wheels around me were relying on it to support the protest mantras relevant to our cause.
I am of course referring to an event organised by Extinction Rebellion, the climate change activists.
The issues are of concern to me and millions of others globally. I have made a point of getting informed about the truth of climate change by attending lectures and presentations by those who know what they are talking about.
Furthermore the ER members are dedicated to the cause and not on the payroll of Lobbyists, affiliated concerns or with any specific political influences other than a sense of truth, justice and fairness for all where the environment is concerned.
Our family are by no means eco-angels. We try hard but still generate copious amounts of waste. Granted this is directed towards appropriate recycling and re-use as best as we can manage. It may not yet be enough but we are doing our utmost to minimise the impact on our hard pressed and abused planet.
As a major step we have replaced a polluting diesel car with an all electric vehicle but I still rely on a fossil fuelled motor car for my business use which can be up to 200 miles daily during normal working hours.
There is a determination in our household to cut down on our consumption of meat, single use plastics and in general reduce our carbon footprint. This is more difficult than it should be and mainly because of a lack of infrastructure even in our privileged 21st Century and G7 status nation.
A particular obstacle is our own fear and anxiety. There is so much in the media to confuse, contradict and mislead which only serves to accentuate these feelings.
Again, it is up to us and us alone to make our own investigations.
Since becoming classified as a terrorist I admit that I have kept a low profile.
I check to see if there are any unmarked vehicles hanging around my house or upon lifting up the home phone handset I try to detect any clicks or whirrs which could indicate that someone is listening in. I have taken to checking the brakes on my bike for any signs of tampering and leave a small tell-tale on the wheely bin lids which would alert me to any persons going through my rubbish, however well and correctly it is allocated to the respective container.
Of course I am very much a casual and part timer in the scheme of what Extinction Rebellion are trying to achieve but I will pledge my support to those who place their lives and livelihoods on the front line. When that front line is our own doorstep then it doesn't really need much thought.
For this latest of associations I am now considered to be a terrorist. So what did I do?
In its entirety I just rode my bike, very slowly around the City Ring Road, with others on a saturday afternoon this last summer past.
That in itself was not necessarily something threatening or radical. The whole thing was very well organised, supervised and after a detailed briefing of how we should act we were, even more than usual as good citizens, mindful of the need to let emergency vehicles get past if so required.
Above all the emphasis was on maintaining or gaining the support of the wider general public as they went about their usual weekend activities in the shops and a whole raft of activities to be found in a bustling Northern regional city.
My potential inclusion on a list amongst those with particular doctrinal or brain-washed beliefs may, on reflection be on account of my regular blowing, whilst riding my bike, of a Vu-Vu-Zela.
Yes, I can see that many might regard that as being a bit subversive and menacing. I did get a bit fed up of using it but then again those on two wheels around me were relying on it to support the protest mantras relevant to our cause.
I am of course referring to an event organised by Extinction Rebellion, the climate change activists.
The issues are of concern to me and millions of others globally. I have made a point of getting informed about the truth of climate change by attending lectures and presentations by those who know what they are talking about.
Furthermore the ER members are dedicated to the cause and not on the payroll of Lobbyists, affiliated concerns or with any specific political influences other than a sense of truth, justice and fairness for all where the environment is concerned.
Our family are by no means eco-angels. We try hard but still generate copious amounts of waste. Granted this is directed towards appropriate recycling and re-use as best as we can manage. It may not yet be enough but we are doing our utmost to minimise the impact on our hard pressed and abused planet.
As a major step we have replaced a polluting diesel car with an all electric vehicle but I still rely on a fossil fuelled motor car for my business use which can be up to 200 miles daily during normal working hours.
There is a determination in our household to cut down on our consumption of meat, single use plastics and in general reduce our carbon footprint. This is more difficult than it should be and mainly because of a lack of infrastructure even in our privileged 21st Century and G7 status nation.
A particular obstacle is our own fear and anxiety. There is so much in the media to confuse, contradict and mislead which only serves to accentuate these feelings.
Again, it is up to us and us alone to make our own investigations.
Since becoming classified as a terrorist I admit that I have kept a low profile.
I check to see if there are any unmarked vehicles hanging around my house or upon lifting up the home phone handset I try to detect any clicks or whirrs which could indicate that someone is listening in. I have taken to checking the brakes on my bike for any signs of tampering and leave a small tell-tale on the wheely bin lids which would alert me to any persons going through my rubbish, however well and correctly it is allocated to the respective container.
Of course I am very much a casual and part timer in the scheme of what Extinction Rebellion are trying to achieve but I will pledge my support to those who place their lives and livelihoods on the front line. When that front line is our own doorstep then it doesn't really need much thought.
Saturday, 11 January 2020
And all the Somebody People
To mark the 4th Anniversary of the death of David Bowie (10th January)
There is a certain timelessness in classic rock and pop music.
It is a quality, an endearing and emotional one that is completely lacking in the over-produced anthems by talentless wannabees and one hit wonders of more recent years.
I can recall immediately, upon hearing a certain intro to a song from my youthful years in the 1960's and 1970's the exact situation and circumstances that I was in when I heard it for the first time.
My earliest memories revolve around such pop tunes as The Beatles and Penny Lane, Petula Clark's Downtown and the hits of The Seekers such as The Carnival is over.
Of course I could have heard them second hand rather than upon their respective releases in the mid to late 1960's although I firmly believe that as I was brought up in a very musical family, particularly on my Mother's side it is entirely possible that they will have been audible to my very infant ears.
Such great pieces of music and accompanying lyrics are deeply rooted in my hard wired memory and can be reactivated at the smallest prompt or by a familiar sight, sound, smell, taste or touch.
I am now in my mid 50's and to my own children let alone anyone younger I will be regarded as a bit of an oldie and yet there can be expressions of surprise when I take on the common subject of music and show what is a reasonable depth and breadth of knowledge and appreciation.
Some artists from my own teenage years are being listened to by the current generation largely as a consequence of parental influence and raids on record collections of their own parents and even grandparents.
I can reel off an impressive list of gigs that I have attended over the last 40 years including Bowie in 1983, U2 in 1981, The Stranglers 1980, The Jam 1979 and many, many more. I still attend now but principally to see performers before they pop their clogs.
For all of my own experiences of rock and pop I must admit that I was mightily confused by a conversation that I had with a 70 year old lady a couple of weeks ago.
To me, 70 has always been an ancient age.
Grandparents were always that age and there existed an enormous gulf in culture, tastes, etiquette, outlook, politics and musical genres across such a wide age difference and this mindset, for all of its ignorance and insensitivities persists with me even now,
I think our chat started off with the weather which is always a safe and non-contentious subject before suddenly turning to David Bowie.
I cannot remember the sequence of niceties and generalities that brought us around to Bowie.
I suppose it could be the new thing to replace that assumption that whatever topic you start out to discuss with someone it always ends up with Adolf Hitler.
The lady, a small frail figure but very heavily nicotine based, told me about her love of the artist and how she had been to many concerts in the 1970's and on one occasion had actually met the man.
I had a strong image of her in a hat and smart but modest attire and clutching her handbag when coming across Bowie in one of his creations such as Ziggy or The Thin White Duke.
In my minds eye she was then as she appeared in front of me now, an old lady.
That was of course completely disrespectful on my part.
If I had bothered to do any arithmetic to put some sense of time on my imagined scenes then I would have realised that, yes, the lady and Bowie were in fact born only 1 year apart.
His first commercial album release in his own name rather than David Jones was in 1967 when he was twenty years old.
At the peak of his first phase of performance perhaps his greatest fan had been and still was this senior citizen.
I came away from that brief meeting with a strong note to myself to be less quick to make judgements and sweeping assumptions about people and especially those of such unquestionable credibility in rock and pop.
There is a certain timelessness in classic rock and pop music.
It is a quality, an endearing and emotional one that is completely lacking in the over-produced anthems by talentless wannabees and one hit wonders of more recent years.
I can recall immediately, upon hearing a certain intro to a song from my youthful years in the 1960's and 1970's the exact situation and circumstances that I was in when I heard it for the first time.
My earliest memories revolve around such pop tunes as The Beatles and Penny Lane, Petula Clark's Downtown and the hits of The Seekers such as The Carnival is over.
Of course I could have heard them second hand rather than upon their respective releases in the mid to late 1960's although I firmly believe that as I was brought up in a very musical family, particularly on my Mother's side it is entirely possible that they will have been audible to my very infant ears.
Such great pieces of music and accompanying lyrics are deeply rooted in my hard wired memory and can be reactivated at the smallest prompt or by a familiar sight, sound, smell, taste or touch.
I am now in my mid 50's and to my own children let alone anyone younger I will be regarded as a bit of an oldie and yet there can be expressions of surprise when I take on the common subject of music and show what is a reasonable depth and breadth of knowledge and appreciation.
Some artists from my own teenage years are being listened to by the current generation largely as a consequence of parental influence and raids on record collections of their own parents and even grandparents.
I can reel off an impressive list of gigs that I have attended over the last 40 years including Bowie in 1983, U2 in 1981, The Stranglers 1980, The Jam 1979 and many, many more. I still attend now but principally to see performers before they pop their clogs.
For all of my own experiences of rock and pop I must admit that I was mightily confused by a conversation that I had with a 70 year old lady a couple of weeks ago.
To me, 70 has always been an ancient age.
Grandparents were always that age and there existed an enormous gulf in culture, tastes, etiquette, outlook, politics and musical genres across such a wide age difference and this mindset, for all of its ignorance and insensitivities persists with me even now,
I think our chat started off with the weather which is always a safe and non-contentious subject before suddenly turning to David Bowie.
I cannot remember the sequence of niceties and generalities that brought us around to Bowie.
I suppose it could be the new thing to replace that assumption that whatever topic you start out to discuss with someone it always ends up with Adolf Hitler.
The lady, a small frail figure but very heavily nicotine based, told me about her love of the artist and how she had been to many concerts in the 1970's and on one occasion had actually met the man.
I had a strong image of her in a hat and smart but modest attire and clutching her handbag when coming across Bowie in one of his creations such as Ziggy or The Thin White Duke.
In my minds eye she was then as she appeared in front of me now, an old lady.
That was of course completely disrespectful on my part.
If I had bothered to do any arithmetic to put some sense of time on my imagined scenes then I would have realised that, yes, the lady and Bowie were in fact born only 1 year apart.
His first commercial album release in his own name rather than David Jones was in 1967 when he was twenty years old.
At the peak of his first phase of performance perhaps his greatest fan had been and still was this senior citizen.
I came away from that brief meeting with a strong note to myself to be less quick to make judgements and sweeping assumptions about people and especially those of such unquestionable credibility in rock and pop.
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