The outcome of one of those surveys hit the airwaves this week.
I am not sure whether to pack up and move further north in the light of its conclusions.
Shock upon horror upon disbelief.
The reason?. The trends and practices of Southerners are spreading to the rest of the country and more significantly making their way into my adopted home patch of Yorkshire.
Personally I blame the proliferation of coffee shops within the Services up the M1 Motorway. Southern folk, those possessors of German manufactured motor cars bought brand new happen to pass through God's Own Country on their way to their second homes or to visit disadvantaged family and relatives who by a freak of short term contract Corporate relocation find themselves above the Midlands.
They stop off for a break at Woodall Services ,just to the south east of Sheffield and impress the locals with an intimate knowledge of the fare of Costa Coffee which can but impress those locals just partaking of a short journey across the M1 corridor. I have myself eavesdropped on the conversations of the southerners and amongst a lot of fanciful nonsense there is mention that, when they eventually reach their destination, it will be time for dinner or if the journey is impeded by older second hand vehicles, supper.
There, in that seemingly innocent overheard chit-chat is the key difference that defines the north-south divide.
What you call the evening meal reveals a lot about where you come from and even where you are headed.
I am a rare sort. Born in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire and abducted by my family to reside in my formative years in Suffolk, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire I have a mixed blood.
I may want for dinner or supper after 5pm but I have been brought up in the north to have tea.
It was a proper teatime in our house. No sooner were the valves on the TV cooling down from major to just moderate fire hazard after Hectors House or Crystal Tipps and Alistair were we called in to sit at the kitchen bench set for our 6pm tea.
A traditional serving of pasta or beans in sweet syrupy tomato sauce on toast and followed by a serving of Angel Delight, butterscotch being preferred to strawberry every time.
I was not to know that to the portion of the country south of, say, Leicester the word Tea, meant a cup of Earl Grey, scones and jam.
In having tea I was accepting a working class concept and yet, surely, with a Bank Manager Father and a stay at home wonderfully caring Mother I was technically of the middle class or at least lower middle class persuasion.
It was a confusing time for a young lad such as me.
I had heard mention by well to do school friends of their parents having Dinner in a post 6pm context but to me dinner was entrenched in the middle of the day or represented by a big roast and sit down on a Sunday lunchtime. To others, apparently, dinner referred to a posh evening do, 7pm or later possibly with attendance by friends and acquaintances and a lot of polite talk and putting cutlery down on the table between mouthfuls.
Supper was even more elusive by definition.
In our house it was used to describe a cup of drinking chocolate and a few Bourbons or Cheddar Thins just before The Waltons, The Likely Lads, Alias Smith and Jones or after The Goodies.
In more sophisticated circles Supper was an informal bite and yet I have subsequently been made aware that there are Country Suppers with 8 persons and an Aga Range or a Kitchen Supper, seemingly a simple, impromptu affair but actually being a catered function with a budget per head of about £200.
It is also apparent that the later you eat, the higher up the social classes you are likely to be. I can understand this in that a landowner attending to his Estate duties or a Captain of Industry having to lock up the expansive manufacturing premises may not reach home until well after twilight. There are exceptions however. Take the fish supper, a stalwart of the working classes and seen as a real treat to mark the end of a long hard week.
The nation may eventually stand or fall on the meanings or definitions of tea, dinner and supper. I regularly have a stand off with southerners on the subject. Unfortunately, there would be gross misunderstandings in arranging a class battle on the basis of starting after dinner, after tea or after supper as it would inevitably mean a lot of hanging around between 12 noon and 10pm.
I would be sure to bring along a light snack or just have a late lunch...........................................
Saturday, 8 April 2017
Friday, 7 April 2017
Knock on Wood
One of the busiest main roads in and out of Hull skirts its eastern side. At any time of the day the traffic crawls along in its dull fug of petrol and diesel fumes.
To the west is a street along which can be found the popular cafe bar culture so popular with city dwellers in the working week and in their leisure time.
North and South sides are fully built up with a mixture of Victorian Period villas, modern town houses, a neighbourhood Police Station and a Mosque.
The greenspace that is Pearson Park sits in the middle of this typical urban landscape.
We moved into the Park nearly four years ago now and have marvelled at the wildlife amongst the city scape seemingly defying the pollution and other environmental factors that pose an additional challenge to those to just survive and fluorish.
Ducks from the ornamental lake can be found waddling along the circulatory road of horse drawn carriage width that was a major stipulation by the benefactor of the Park, Zachariah Pearson in the 1860's. They seem oblivious to any rules of the road but motorists just accept it and wait patiently until the way is clear.
The ducks are very enterprising in their search for food and take to the flat roofs on the block of garages behind our house pecking around on the granite chippings for any morsels.
One of the local residents has taken to spreading the contents of their green kitchen waste bin onto, hopefully, their own garage roof and this supply of treats is a regular stopping off point in the daily adventures of the ducks and drakes.
I have written before on the subject of the army of grey squirrels in the boughs of the large and ancient Horse Chestnut trees and they continue to amuse and to some degree intimidate in their fierce and defiant attitude in response to a kindly word from users of the park.
Cute and cuddly they may look, but far from it in reality.
They are thriving not because of humans but in spite of them.
A new arrival to our micro-habitat announced itself in its characteristic style although such is the relative rarity of the species in any other environment than woodlands that this went unnoticed for some weeks.
I heard a rata-tat-tat sound at first could not place it amongst the general background noise of the city ,either where it came from or what it was.
The deep roof overhang of the Police Station seemed to be the source at first but there was nothing to see. I had heard a similar noise from a malfunctioning security alarm box on one of the larger houses on the Park edge and attributed it to that. Then the direction of the knock-knock-knock changed quickly to somewhere high up in the tree canopy.
It was still so regular and mechanical in its rhythm and resonance that I could not actually relate it to any natural creature.
Our new resident is a Great Spotted Woodpecker.
I thought that this bird, my perception of it obviously influenced by the anthropomorphic animated woodpecker of the 1940's Walter Lantz studio, was more of a native of North America as I had not seen or heard one before in the UK.
About blackbird-sized and striking black-and-white, the species has a very distinctive bouncing flight and spends most of its time clinging to tree trunks and branches, often trying to hide on the side away from the observer.
Its presence is often announced by its loud call or by its distinctive spring 'drumming' display. The male has a distinctive red patch on the back of the head and young birds have a red crown. It has evolved with two foreword and two backward facing claws so as to grip round branches. It is a thriving species and the RSPB estimate 140,000 breeding pairs in this country.
I still have to spot this distinctive plumage myself although other members of my family have seen and obtained a blurry but recognisable image of what seems to be a bachelor, perhaps home-making for his mate, yet to be persuaded about the attractions of residing in the inner city albeit the beautiful Pearson Park.
The rat-a-tat-tat is a nice sound to be awoken by on a fine Spring morning and I hope to add a Great Spotted Woodpecker to my rather neglected "twitchers" log in the coming days.
To the west is a street along which can be found the popular cafe bar culture so popular with city dwellers in the working week and in their leisure time.
North and South sides are fully built up with a mixture of Victorian Period villas, modern town houses, a neighbourhood Police Station and a Mosque.
The greenspace that is Pearson Park sits in the middle of this typical urban landscape.
We moved into the Park nearly four years ago now and have marvelled at the wildlife amongst the city scape seemingly defying the pollution and other environmental factors that pose an additional challenge to those to just survive and fluorish.
Ducks from the ornamental lake can be found waddling along the circulatory road of horse drawn carriage width that was a major stipulation by the benefactor of the Park, Zachariah Pearson in the 1860's. They seem oblivious to any rules of the road but motorists just accept it and wait patiently until the way is clear.
The ducks are very enterprising in their search for food and take to the flat roofs on the block of garages behind our house pecking around on the granite chippings for any morsels.
One of the local residents has taken to spreading the contents of their green kitchen waste bin onto, hopefully, their own garage roof and this supply of treats is a regular stopping off point in the daily adventures of the ducks and drakes.
I have written before on the subject of the army of grey squirrels in the boughs of the large and ancient Horse Chestnut trees and they continue to amuse and to some degree intimidate in their fierce and defiant attitude in response to a kindly word from users of the park.
Cute and cuddly they may look, but far from it in reality.
They are thriving not because of humans but in spite of them.
A new arrival to our micro-habitat announced itself in its characteristic style although such is the relative rarity of the species in any other environment than woodlands that this went unnoticed for some weeks.
I heard a rata-tat-tat sound at first could not place it amongst the general background noise of the city ,either where it came from or what it was.
The deep roof overhang of the Police Station seemed to be the source at first but there was nothing to see. I had heard a similar noise from a malfunctioning security alarm box on one of the larger houses on the Park edge and attributed it to that. Then the direction of the knock-knock-knock changed quickly to somewhere high up in the tree canopy.
It was still so regular and mechanical in its rhythm and resonance that I could not actually relate it to any natural creature.
Our new resident is a Great Spotted Woodpecker.
I thought that this bird, my perception of it obviously influenced by the anthropomorphic animated woodpecker of the 1940's Walter Lantz studio, was more of a native of North America as I had not seen or heard one before in the UK.
About blackbird-sized and striking black-and-white, the species has a very distinctive bouncing flight and spends most of its time clinging to tree trunks and branches, often trying to hide on the side away from the observer.
Its presence is often announced by its loud call or by its distinctive spring 'drumming' display. The male has a distinctive red patch on the back of the head and young birds have a red crown. It has evolved with two foreword and two backward facing claws so as to grip round branches. It is a thriving species and the RSPB estimate 140,000 breeding pairs in this country.
I still have to spot this distinctive plumage myself although other members of my family have seen and obtained a blurry but recognisable image of what seems to be a bachelor, perhaps home-making for his mate, yet to be persuaded about the attractions of residing in the inner city albeit the beautiful Pearson Park.
The rat-a-tat-tat is a nice sound to be awoken by on a fine Spring morning and I hope to add a Great Spotted Woodpecker to my rather neglected "twitchers" log in the coming days.
Wednesday, 5 April 2017
Small Town Togetherness
Not another shared experience in a small town I hear you say.
Well, I have no apologies. I may have been a bit disappointed not to have been pressured into divulging the name of the specific place but at the same time it does not need to be named because the stories would apply to just about every small town in the UK. It is not a case of demeaning or patronising the resident population because these are tales of true life and worthy of mention.
So far I have covered murder and sponsored walks, two mainstays of living in a close knit community. I could also delve into collective shoplifting at Woolworths (surprisingly almost attaining the status of a National Pastime if the search results are to be believed), wife swapping, scrumping from neighbours fruit trees and other similar but largely harmless pursuits.
Our town was in desperate need of a by-pass.
It straddled a busy trunk road in the days before the development of the motorway network through the county and was about equidistant from the Steel Works in the next largest town and a large shipping port on the east coast. In addition our town had three thriving industries in which a high proportion of those of working age were employed.These were a Sugar Beet Factory, a Marmalade Manufacturer and an assembly line for a well known brand of bicycles.
Our careers master gave the same lecture to all of those reaching the age of 15. It was known as 'The Talk'. It went along the lines that if you leave school now and get a job in the town making sugar from a root crop, preservatives from oranges or lemons or put together racing bikes you could within 2 years have your own car, a house and a beautiful girlfriend but be thick as two short planks. To those of us who were persistently asking for lifts, sharing a room with younger siblings or just plain unsatisfied in love this option appeared most attractive indeed. The other option was to stay on in education, wear a uniform whilst wanting to be a young adult and relying on parents for monies and resources. There would, the master promised, be a reward for keeping him in work for the foreseeable future in that we might get some valuable qualifications and the possibility of going on to a University. In short, we would be skint and humiliated but clever.
It was a time of full local employment and so it was possible to hang up your satchel one day and clock on in a factory the next. The trouble with not having a by-pass was that you could not always be assured of getting to school or to your workplace on time.
The flow and sheer volume of traffic during the day, into the night and the early hours prevented what many take for granted as a given in life, the exercise of crossing the road.
There were long, low and heavy haulage vehicles carrying steel rods, cables and other castings to the docks to be conveyed all around the world. They would be passed in the opposite direction by a mixture of flat bed trucks, tractor units with containers, tankers and car transporters making the journey from the docks to distribution centres which could be anywhere in the North and Midlands. Add to that the commuter traffic, the school run, buses and coaches of public transport, pensioners in beige coloured Austin Allegro's, farm machinery, army lorries and commercial vans and you can appreciate the problem.
Townsfolk were stranded on the side of the pavement on which they lived. Conversations were shouted across the High Street between the gaps in the traffic and a very expressive system of hand signals along the lines of a racecourse bookie was developed to inform friends or relatives, distanced by the road of current health situations, local gossip and opinions on a wide range of subjects from politics to the previous nights broadcast of soap operas or dramas.
Married couples cited the High Street as grounds for irreconcilable differences and non-consummation of their relationships following enforced separation by a HGV having misread an apparent lull in the traffic to attempt a crossing.
Two cultures slowly arose in the town with a distinct superiority being attached to those who lived on the north side of the road corridor. This was purely down to the better range of shops and services on what became known as the upper side.
Unfortunately and tragically there were regular runnings over of foolhardy residents perhaps lulled into a false sense of bravado by the prospect of a cheaper tin of beans at the Spar Shop. This motivation seemed to make them blind and deaf to the oncoming traffic.
One unfortunate lady, leaning into the hatchback of her Japanese motor car to deposit her shopping, was caught in the downdraft of a passing lorry rig and the tailgate slammed down causing serious injury.
That incident, whilst at first comical, started a vociferous campaign for a by pass.
It took five years to get one.
The wide dual carriageway skirted the town as it carved its way through part of our school cross country course, some ancient woodlands and meadows and a couple of river crossings.
The whole town was invited by the main contractor to walk the route on one summers night, a few days before the official opening.
A reasonable proportion did turn up but frankly the experience was a bit disappointing. I likened it to carrying out a nature walk on the main runway of an airport.
We did not really know the etiquette of walking on an empty, just built motorway. The older folks hugged the hard shoulder and the slow lane being regularly overtaken in the middle lane by the more ambulatory, themselves by kids and younger families in the outer, fast lane.
Five linear miles had been designated for the Open Night. Imagine our shock when we realised that at the cordoned off farthest point we had to turnaround and just walk back through the oncoming human exodus. It was a bit of an anti-climax.
Sadder though was the loss of activity in the town. Whilst most of the traffic had rolled on through on a tight schedule a proportion had stopped off and had made use of the shops and services. The loss of income impacted on the wealth of the town on the very day that the by-pass was declared open by some local dignatory. It turned into a forlorn, backwater type of place soon to be vacated by British Sugar, Spring's Marmalade and with only the bike factory retaining a thinned out workforce to simply affix components to frames imported ready made from the Far East.
On some nights the townsfolk congregated on one of the bridges carrying a minor road over the by-pass if only to become reconnected to the outside world by the thundering of lorries, the sweep of headlights and that sweet aroma of carbon monoxide that had once seeped through the very veins and soul of our town.
Well, I have no apologies. I may have been a bit disappointed not to have been pressured into divulging the name of the specific place but at the same time it does not need to be named because the stories would apply to just about every small town in the UK. It is not a case of demeaning or patronising the resident population because these are tales of true life and worthy of mention.
So far I have covered murder and sponsored walks, two mainstays of living in a close knit community. I could also delve into collective shoplifting at Woolworths (surprisingly almost attaining the status of a National Pastime if the search results are to be believed), wife swapping, scrumping from neighbours fruit trees and other similar but largely harmless pursuits.
Our town was in desperate need of a by-pass.
It straddled a busy trunk road in the days before the development of the motorway network through the county and was about equidistant from the Steel Works in the next largest town and a large shipping port on the east coast. In addition our town had three thriving industries in which a high proportion of those of working age were employed.These were a Sugar Beet Factory, a Marmalade Manufacturer and an assembly line for a well known brand of bicycles.
Our careers master gave the same lecture to all of those reaching the age of 15. It was known as 'The Talk'. It went along the lines that if you leave school now and get a job in the town making sugar from a root crop, preservatives from oranges or lemons or put together racing bikes you could within 2 years have your own car, a house and a beautiful girlfriend but be thick as two short planks. To those of us who were persistently asking for lifts, sharing a room with younger siblings or just plain unsatisfied in love this option appeared most attractive indeed. The other option was to stay on in education, wear a uniform whilst wanting to be a young adult and relying on parents for monies and resources. There would, the master promised, be a reward for keeping him in work for the foreseeable future in that we might get some valuable qualifications and the possibility of going on to a University. In short, we would be skint and humiliated but clever.
It was a time of full local employment and so it was possible to hang up your satchel one day and clock on in a factory the next. The trouble with not having a by-pass was that you could not always be assured of getting to school or to your workplace on time.
The flow and sheer volume of traffic during the day, into the night and the early hours prevented what many take for granted as a given in life, the exercise of crossing the road.
There were long, low and heavy haulage vehicles carrying steel rods, cables and other castings to the docks to be conveyed all around the world. They would be passed in the opposite direction by a mixture of flat bed trucks, tractor units with containers, tankers and car transporters making the journey from the docks to distribution centres which could be anywhere in the North and Midlands. Add to that the commuter traffic, the school run, buses and coaches of public transport, pensioners in beige coloured Austin Allegro's, farm machinery, army lorries and commercial vans and you can appreciate the problem.
Townsfolk were stranded on the side of the pavement on which they lived. Conversations were shouted across the High Street between the gaps in the traffic and a very expressive system of hand signals along the lines of a racecourse bookie was developed to inform friends or relatives, distanced by the road of current health situations, local gossip and opinions on a wide range of subjects from politics to the previous nights broadcast of soap operas or dramas.
Married couples cited the High Street as grounds for irreconcilable differences and non-consummation of their relationships following enforced separation by a HGV having misread an apparent lull in the traffic to attempt a crossing.
Two cultures slowly arose in the town with a distinct superiority being attached to those who lived on the north side of the road corridor. This was purely down to the better range of shops and services on what became known as the upper side.
Unfortunately and tragically there were regular runnings over of foolhardy residents perhaps lulled into a false sense of bravado by the prospect of a cheaper tin of beans at the Spar Shop. This motivation seemed to make them blind and deaf to the oncoming traffic.
One unfortunate lady, leaning into the hatchback of her Japanese motor car to deposit her shopping, was caught in the downdraft of a passing lorry rig and the tailgate slammed down causing serious injury.
That incident, whilst at first comical, started a vociferous campaign for a by pass.
It took five years to get one.
The wide dual carriageway skirted the town as it carved its way through part of our school cross country course, some ancient woodlands and meadows and a couple of river crossings.
The whole town was invited by the main contractor to walk the route on one summers night, a few days before the official opening.
A reasonable proportion did turn up but frankly the experience was a bit disappointing. I likened it to carrying out a nature walk on the main runway of an airport.
We did not really know the etiquette of walking on an empty, just built motorway. The older folks hugged the hard shoulder and the slow lane being regularly overtaken in the middle lane by the more ambulatory, themselves by kids and younger families in the outer, fast lane.
Five linear miles had been designated for the Open Night. Imagine our shock when we realised that at the cordoned off farthest point we had to turnaround and just walk back through the oncoming human exodus. It was a bit of an anti-climax.
Sadder though was the loss of activity in the town. Whilst most of the traffic had rolled on through on a tight schedule a proportion had stopped off and had made use of the shops and services. The loss of income impacted on the wealth of the town on the very day that the by-pass was declared open by some local dignatory. It turned into a forlorn, backwater type of place soon to be vacated by British Sugar, Spring's Marmalade and with only the bike factory retaining a thinned out workforce to simply affix components to frames imported ready made from the Far East.
On some nights the townsfolk congregated on one of the bridges carrying a minor road over the by-pass if only to become reconnected to the outside world by the thundering of lorries, the sweep of headlights and that sweet aroma of carbon monoxide that had once seeped through the very veins and soul of our town.
Tuesday, 4 April 2017
Runway Jury
I am fascinated by map and satellite images of natural and man-made features.
In my increasingly curtailed leisure time I like nothing more than to browse over an Ordnance Survey Sheet or conduct a quick scan through Google Earth.
The latter is a tremendous resource and that drilling down in focus when the system recognises the name of an iconic landmark, grid reference, postcode or first lines of an address gives such a sensation of speed and yet puts the sheer size of the world into perspective.
Of course I have travelled in this way to AREA 51, that field full of mothballed aircraft in Texas or Arizona, the Taj Mahal, The Kremlin, the Great Pyramid, Antarctica, Vesuvius and all points in between.
Some of the most stand-out images on this media are actually of airports and in particular the expansive and intrusive layout of runways. These appear as though a scouring scratch on the face of the earth, a concrete suppression of the bare soil and a certain bleakness of environment.
We all know about the pros and cons of our longstanding and deeply rooted love affair with overseas and long haul air travel.
On the one hand there is the sheer convenience of regular and if available, low cost flights but set against this is the overwhelming evidence of the damage done to the environment and human physiology by vapour trails and pollutants.
These issues are over and above the carbon footprint left by the whole aeronautical industry and our own support of it as passengers and consumers.
Projections seem to imply a massive upsurge in passenger numbers in the next few decades. This may be a bit of hype and spin by aircraft manufacturers and airline companies to shore up stock and market values as my interpretation is that volumes should actually decline given the combination of future fuel scarcity, a perceived increase in terrorist threat, uncertainty arising from civil and other unrest in potential destinations and a host of other factors.
One new idea that seeks to alleviate the issues of air and noise pollution and better use of landed areas if indeed flight numbers are to ramp up as predicted is for round as in circular runways.
Yes, you have read that correctly, round runways.
I heard a radio interview recently with someone from the Netherlands Aerospace Centre (NAC). The fundamental principle of The Endless Runway as it is referred to is that the aircraft take-off and land on a large circular structure. This allows for the unique characteristic that the runway can be used in any wind direction, thus making the runway independent of the direction of the wind and therefore also the airport capacity independent of the wind direction.
Consequently an cross wind uncompromised approach to land will burn less fuel.
Arranged as that most efficient shape that is the circle and with the Terminal and other normal airport functions in a central hub accessible by recessed and subterranean road and rail links this makes for a compact and smaller airport area and as conventional linear airports take up a lot of room the land saved from development could be used for other productive purposes.
The extensive research and discussion paper from the NAC is based on hours and hours of flight simulation using a circular runway and their conclusion?
"The results of the literature survey in this document are promising and suggest that a circular runway can be developed with current and expected technology. Today’s aircraft characteristics allow to take off and land with speeds and low altitude bank angles compatible with the operation on a circular track. The Endless Runway fits in future concepts that specify improved planning of operations, new navigation equipment, and intermodal transport".
It is a simple idea but to an industry very much set in its ways of doing things inspite of its otherwise rapid emergence from the pioneering Wright Brothers over little more than a century it is a revolutionary principal.
Many bodies with vested interests in the current airport and allied establishments including pilots and pro-flight journalists have viewed the research with incredulity and sceptism although any reaction has been more a protectionist knee jerk than a reasoned and measured response.
Some have said that landing will be harder for the pilots, that navigation systems will not work and that a banking plane has to go faster to maintain lift.
Hearken back to the pre-Wright Brothers era and there will have been those citing that Man will never achieve powered flight let alone have the ability to fly any distance and at little higher than hedgerow height.
I will just sit this one out as a casual bystander but keep an interested watch over developments to see who is correct in their theories but above all who takes and wins the moral high ground in what will always be a contentious environmental issue.
Here is a short film from the BBC on this subject
In my increasingly curtailed leisure time I like nothing more than to browse over an Ordnance Survey Sheet or conduct a quick scan through Google Earth.
The latter is a tremendous resource and that drilling down in focus when the system recognises the name of an iconic landmark, grid reference, postcode or first lines of an address gives such a sensation of speed and yet puts the sheer size of the world into perspective.
Of course I have travelled in this way to AREA 51, that field full of mothballed aircraft in Texas or Arizona, the Taj Mahal, The Kremlin, the Great Pyramid, Antarctica, Vesuvius and all points in between.
Some of the most stand-out images on this media are actually of airports and in particular the expansive and intrusive layout of runways. These appear as though a scouring scratch on the face of the earth, a concrete suppression of the bare soil and a certain bleakness of environment.
We all know about the pros and cons of our longstanding and deeply rooted love affair with overseas and long haul air travel.
On the one hand there is the sheer convenience of regular and if available, low cost flights but set against this is the overwhelming evidence of the damage done to the environment and human physiology by vapour trails and pollutants.
These issues are over and above the carbon footprint left by the whole aeronautical industry and our own support of it as passengers and consumers.
Projections seem to imply a massive upsurge in passenger numbers in the next few decades. This may be a bit of hype and spin by aircraft manufacturers and airline companies to shore up stock and market values as my interpretation is that volumes should actually decline given the combination of future fuel scarcity, a perceived increase in terrorist threat, uncertainty arising from civil and other unrest in potential destinations and a host of other factors.
One new idea that seeks to alleviate the issues of air and noise pollution and better use of landed areas if indeed flight numbers are to ramp up as predicted is for round as in circular runways.
Yes, you have read that correctly, round runways.
I heard a radio interview recently with someone from the Netherlands Aerospace Centre (NAC). The fundamental principle of The Endless Runway as it is referred to is that the aircraft take-off and land on a large circular structure. This allows for the unique characteristic that the runway can be used in any wind direction, thus making the runway independent of the direction of the wind and therefore also the airport capacity independent of the wind direction.
Consequently an cross wind uncompromised approach to land will burn less fuel.
Arranged as that most efficient shape that is the circle and with the Terminal and other normal airport functions in a central hub accessible by recessed and subterranean road and rail links this makes for a compact and smaller airport area and as conventional linear airports take up a lot of room the land saved from development could be used for other productive purposes.
The extensive research and discussion paper from the NAC is based on hours and hours of flight simulation using a circular runway and their conclusion?
"The results of the literature survey in this document are promising and suggest that a circular runway can be developed with current and expected technology. Today’s aircraft characteristics allow to take off and land with speeds and low altitude bank angles compatible with the operation on a circular track. The Endless Runway fits in future concepts that specify improved planning of operations, new navigation equipment, and intermodal transport".
It is a simple idea but to an industry very much set in its ways of doing things inspite of its otherwise rapid emergence from the pioneering Wright Brothers over little more than a century it is a revolutionary principal.
Many bodies with vested interests in the current airport and allied establishments including pilots and pro-flight journalists have viewed the research with incredulity and sceptism although any reaction has been more a protectionist knee jerk than a reasoned and measured response.
Some have said that landing will be harder for the pilots, that navigation systems will not work and that a banking plane has to go faster to maintain lift.
Hearken back to the pre-Wright Brothers era and there will have been those citing that Man will never achieve powered flight let alone have the ability to fly any distance and at little higher than hedgerow height.
I will just sit this one out as a casual bystander but keep an interested watch over developments to see who is correct in their theories but above all who takes and wins the moral high ground in what will always be a contentious environmental issue.
Here is a short film from the BBC on this subject
Monday, 3 April 2017
Bad Grandma
Here is a good story doing the rounds on UK based media today. I heard a snippet of it on the BBC World Service. I have added a few bits of background to the core subject.
The term “broken windows” refers to an observation made in the early 1980s by Messrs Kelling, a criminologist, and Wilson, a social scientist, that when a building window is broken and left unrepaired, the rest of the windows will soon be broken too.
An unrepaired broken window is a signal that no one cares, they argued, and so breaking more windows costs nothing.
More profoundly, they found that in environments where disorderly behaviour goes unchecked—where prostitutes visibly ply their trade or beggars accost passers-by—more serious street crime flourishes.
This theory is supported by a number of randomised experiments. Researchers at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands, for example, found that people were twice as likely to steal an envelope filled with money if it was sticking out of a mailbox covered in graffiti.
What this means for law enforcement, Kelling and Wilson prescribed, is that when police officers keep streets orderly, and punish even small signs of misbehaviour with a warning or an arrest, people will behave in a more orderly way.
Perhaps in a roundabout and small way a lone vigilante in Bristol, England is contributing to achieve the same sense of order in attempting to fix broken vocabulary when it appears on public and shop signage in his home city.
We have all seen what looks like an incorrectly positioned or even an absent apostrophe on a notice or fascia.
I admit that I am quite good at spotting such things when in the car or on foot but like a good proportion of the population I do not have the confidence to offer up in that inward voice in my head what the correct grammar should be.
The anonymous Superhero, for that is what he surely is, has ventured out under cover of darkness since 2003 to tackle, head on the mistakes that signwriters and business owners get away with, either unwittingly or through downright ignorance.
The trend for bad grammar appears to be on the increase and it is easy to attribute this to a decline in the teaching of written english in schools. This may not strictly be true as I am in my sixth decade, supposedly well educated and an avid reader and yet I am still a bit hazy about the appropriate rules of where an apostrophe is required or not as the case may be.
This particular perpetrator of action for grammar has not gone into his crusade half-heartedly.
The necessary rectification does require a bit of reconnaissance and due diligence and to that end he has amassed an extensive collection of coloured sticky backed plastic and can estimate by eye the size of either a patch over a rogue apostrophe or a close matching font for the insertion of an apostrophe.
The law of the land puts these well intentioned acts into the category of criminal damage or even a technical trespass and so our brave soul has designed and made two specialised tools to assist him.
One is a set of ladders that avoids any contact with the front of a building or for example any other obstacles which might impeded his reaching the mounting position for an errant sign.
The other is an 8 foot long contraption onto which a pre-measured and cut patch or apostrophe can be placed and then manouvred and pressed onto the exact position to achieve success.
This device he calls his "apostrophiser"
His earliest rectifications were on Council Notices with incorrect Monday's to Friday's and a manicurist premises with Nail's.
He has added apostrophes to Gentlemen's outside a barber shop and removed same from Herberts Bakery and Cambridge Motors Garage.
As with the great social experiment to sort out the small issues first which has been so successful in some Stateside Cities our man in Bristol is surely doing his part to reinstate the importance of correct grammar which will percolate down through our home based social structure and surely enrich our own live's.
The term “broken windows” refers to an observation made in the early 1980s by Messrs Kelling, a criminologist, and Wilson, a social scientist, that when a building window is broken and left unrepaired, the rest of the windows will soon be broken too.
An unrepaired broken window is a signal that no one cares, they argued, and so breaking more windows costs nothing.
More profoundly, they found that in environments where disorderly behaviour goes unchecked—where prostitutes visibly ply their trade or beggars accost passers-by—more serious street crime flourishes.
This theory is supported by a number of randomised experiments. Researchers at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands, for example, found that people were twice as likely to steal an envelope filled with money if it was sticking out of a mailbox covered in graffiti.
What this means for law enforcement, Kelling and Wilson prescribed, is that when police officers keep streets orderly, and punish even small signs of misbehaviour with a warning or an arrest, people will behave in a more orderly way.
Perhaps in a roundabout and small way a lone vigilante in Bristol, England is contributing to achieve the same sense of order in attempting to fix broken vocabulary when it appears on public and shop signage in his home city.
We have all seen what looks like an incorrectly positioned or even an absent apostrophe on a notice or fascia.
I admit that I am quite good at spotting such things when in the car or on foot but like a good proportion of the population I do not have the confidence to offer up in that inward voice in my head what the correct grammar should be.
The anonymous Superhero, for that is what he surely is, has ventured out under cover of darkness since 2003 to tackle, head on the mistakes that signwriters and business owners get away with, either unwittingly or through downright ignorance.
The trend for bad grammar appears to be on the increase and it is easy to attribute this to a decline in the teaching of written english in schools. This may not strictly be true as I am in my sixth decade, supposedly well educated and an avid reader and yet I am still a bit hazy about the appropriate rules of where an apostrophe is required or not as the case may be.
This particular perpetrator of action for grammar has not gone into his crusade half-heartedly.
The necessary rectification does require a bit of reconnaissance and due diligence and to that end he has amassed an extensive collection of coloured sticky backed plastic and can estimate by eye the size of either a patch over a rogue apostrophe or a close matching font for the insertion of an apostrophe.
The law of the land puts these well intentioned acts into the category of criminal damage or even a technical trespass and so our brave soul has designed and made two specialised tools to assist him.
One is a set of ladders that avoids any contact with the front of a building or for example any other obstacles which might impeded his reaching the mounting position for an errant sign.
The other is an 8 foot long contraption onto which a pre-measured and cut patch or apostrophe can be placed and then manouvred and pressed onto the exact position to achieve success.
This device he calls his "apostrophiser"
His earliest rectifications were on Council Notices with incorrect Monday's to Friday's and a manicurist premises with Nail's.
He has added apostrophes to Gentlemen's outside a barber shop and removed same from Herberts Bakery and Cambridge Motors Garage.
As with the great social experiment to sort out the small issues first which has been so successful in some Stateside Cities our man in Bristol is surely doing his part to reinstate the importance of correct grammar which will percolate down through our home based social structure and surely enrich our own live's.
Sunday, 2 April 2017
Just Like George Banks
I have had a real treat today.
I will give you a few clues as to what the activity was that gave me such pleasure.
It involved unwrapping a gift that I think one of my children gave me at Christmas 2016.
I know that sounds a bit negligent as a parent to not remember
1) that one of your offspring gave you a present and perhaps worst of all,
2) that you cannot recall which child it was but at the time it was an abstract thing, amongst books, socks, after shave, etc but obviously evoking a very fond memory from the childhood of the giver.
I have attempted, as one of the conventional parental team for our family of three children, to give them all and in equal quantities some great and fond recollections and so even such a specific gift did not give me any further clues as to the identity of the benefactor. It was a case of the thought that counts.
The decision to unwrap did rely upon a certain coming together of key factors.
If any of the accumulated circumstances of the individual constituents were absent or diluted then the act would be wasted and the activity thwarted.
I had thought of unwrapping the item earlier on in the New Year of 2017 but the essential components for success were just not there. I attribute that to global warming.
The main contributing issues are a giveaway as clues;
a)a bit of a steady breeze,
b) dry climactic conditions and
c) a clear open space.
In the preceding days to this early Spring weekend I had kept a careful watch on the weather forecast which would herald the arrival, or not, of two out of the three factors.
My wife had mentioned the possibility of a trip out to the East Coast of Yorkshire as an activity in which family and friends could actively participate. Being English by birth and through a complex genetic inheritance does give me, like many of my compatriots a periodic longing for a sight of the sea.
This must go back to our status as island dwellers and that none of the mainland population is apparently more than 70 miles away from a coastline.
I have, again like many Brits, often been drawn to a beach but have remained confined to a vehicle and rain-spotted windscreen view of sand and surf when out of season or in seasonally inclement weather.
This latest prospect of the first trip of the year to the coast was exciting but tempered by a lingering cold and potentially wet front coming in from the west and offshore northerly winds. It did not sound good but the morning of the expedition was reasonably bright and dry to signal the loading up of the car with a travel rug, blankets, towels, inflatable cushion, football and Frisbee.
Any coastline has its own micro-climate and driving out of a still-air diesel pollutant city gave no clues as to the intended destination some 25 miles out in a north easterly direction. The wind turbines at two rural locations on the route were at least turning and so this was a sign of some residual prevailing breeze.
I was therefore pretty hopeful that the activity could go ahead.
The vast open beach of Bridlington South Bay was busy with walkers and just about every breed of dog but no one else was partaking in my prospective activity.
The aforementioned unwrapping was done on the wall of the Promenade high above the sands.
Worryingly, there were no instructions for assembly but with only five components even my illogical and impractical mind was not challenged too much.
What did give cause for concern was that the product did not have any brand name, country of manufacture or the CE mark to signify that it was not toxic, capable of spontaneous combustion or had been the consequence of exploitation or criminal conspiracy.
Descending to sea level was the catalyst to starting the activity and so the flimsy plastic, black printed eagle facsimilie swelled its representational wing span and soared up into the sky, or at least to the full extent of the rather weak looking white nylon twine which was about 50 feet.
It was a magical experience and I could just not help myself from humming loudly the melody of that wonderfully optimistic song from the 1964 Mary Poppins movie
"Let's go fly a kite........................................."
I will give you a few clues as to what the activity was that gave me such pleasure.
It involved unwrapping a gift that I think one of my children gave me at Christmas 2016.
I know that sounds a bit negligent as a parent to not remember
1) that one of your offspring gave you a present and perhaps worst of all,
2) that you cannot recall which child it was but at the time it was an abstract thing, amongst books, socks, after shave, etc but obviously evoking a very fond memory from the childhood of the giver.
I have attempted, as one of the conventional parental team for our family of three children, to give them all and in equal quantities some great and fond recollections and so even such a specific gift did not give me any further clues as to the identity of the benefactor. It was a case of the thought that counts.
The decision to unwrap did rely upon a certain coming together of key factors.
If any of the accumulated circumstances of the individual constituents were absent or diluted then the act would be wasted and the activity thwarted.
I had thought of unwrapping the item earlier on in the New Year of 2017 but the essential components for success were just not there. I attribute that to global warming.
The main contributing issues are a giveaway as clues;
a)a bit of a steady breeze,
b) dry climactic conditions and
c) a clear open space.
In the preceding days to this early Spring weekend I had kept a careful watch on the weather forecast which would herald the arrival, or not, of two out of the three factors.
My wife had mentioned the possibility of a trip out to the East Coast of Yorkshire as an activity in which family and friends could actively participate. Being English by birth and through a complex genetic inheritance does give me, like many of my compatriots a periodic longing for a sight of the sea.
This must go back to our status as island dwellers and that none of the mainland population is apparently more than 70 miles away from a coastline.
I have, again like many Brits, often been drawn to a beach but have remained confined to a vehicle and rain-spotted windscreen view of sand and surf when out of season or in seasonally inclement weather.
This latest prospect of the first trip of the year to the coast was exciting but tempered by a lingering cold and potentially wet front coming in from the west and offshore northerly winds. It did not sound good but the morning of the expedition was reasonably bright and dry to signal the loading up of the car with a travel rug, blankets, towels, inflatable cushion, football and Frisbee.
Any coastline has its own micro-climate and driving out of a still-air diesel pollutant city gave no clues as to the intended destination some 25 miles out in a north easterly direction. The wind turbines at two rural locations on the route were at least turning and so this was a sign of some residual prevailing breeze.
I was therefore pretty hopeful that the activity could go ahead.
The vast open beach of Bridlington South Bay was busy with walkers and just about every breed of dog but no one else was partaking in my prospective activity.
The aforementioned unwrapping was done on the wall of the Promenade high above the sands.
Worryingly, there were no instructions for assembly but with only five components even my illogical and impractical mind was not challenged too much.
What did give cause for concern was that the product did not have any brand name, country of manufacture or the CE mark to signify that it was not toxic, capable of spontaneous combustion or had been the consequence of exploitation or criminal conspiracy.
Descending to sea level was the catalyst to starting the activity and so the flimsy plastic, black printed eagle facsimilie swelled its representational wing span and soared up into the sky, or at least to the full extent of the rather weak looking white nylon twine which was about 50 feet.
It was a magical experience and I could just not help myself from humming loudly the melody of that wonderfully optimistic song from the 1964 Mary Poppins movie
"Let's go fly a kite........................................."
Saturday, 1 April 2017
The Ideal Home of 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)