Category Archives: amusements

Let Them Dance

Christmas is coming, and it’s time to have some fun with the TV schedules.

This evening we made the mistake of catching a bit of Strictly Come Dancing, the appallingly horrible BBC TV show. Oh dear, even with the sound off it was verging on the vomit-worthy.

But we thought what a wonderful line-up the BBC could put together for a Strictly Christmas Extravaganza.

As it would be a one-off special we decided it should be just 8 couples; so 8 “slebs”, four of nominally each gender. We decided that for a real laugh they should be:

Ester Rantzen
Vanessa Feltz
Harriet Harman
Camila Batmanghelidjh
Robbie Coltraine
Graham Norton
David Beckham
Tony Blair

So who would you choose to make right prats of themselves?

Auction Amusements

Time for another sale at our local auction house. This time round it is a huge sale with over 1000 lots. And as usual it is a curious mix of some “wow!” stuff and the exceedingly strange.

Let’s start with the star of the show, Lot 600:

An important Chinese gilt bronze figure of Amitayus, the Buddha of Infinite Life, Qing dynasty, Kangxi period, seated in shawl and dhoti with engraved floral borders, wearing elaborate diadem and other jewellery, retaining numerous inset coral, turquoise and lapiz cabochons, the exposed flesh retaining brown lacquer colouring, the eyebrows and hair coloured black, on double lotus petal base, 35.5cm high.

Note: this figure belongs to a select group made in the Imperial foundry, one of which was cast on the orders of the Kangxi emperor for his devoutly Buddhist grandmother’s birthday in 1686 and is illustrated in Cultural Relics of Tibetan Buddhism Collected in the Qing Palace, Hong Kong, 1992, pls 1-2. It is likely that the other examples were made for the many Tibetan Buddhist temples in Beijing.


Should you desire this magnificent piece you’ll need to arrange a mortgage before you even consider bidding.

So after that it has to be all down hill into the oddities …

A set of Guinness buttons on original card.
How do you sew buttons on Guinness?

3 silver-gilt jewels of the Royal Antediluvian Order of Buffaloes, early 20th century, in cases, each for Lodge 181 (Prince Victor Lodge, Isle of Wight), together with the order’s certificate for … and an old photograph of a tailor’s shop; also a German Iron Cross, Second World War 1939-45 War Medal and the 1939-45 Defence Medal, and the George V and Queen Mary medal by Elect Cocoa.

An original cartoon by Willie Rushton and a 1930s map of Berlin.
Does anyone else find this slightly surreal?

An interesting collection of 20 buttonhooks and other implements, some silver, mainly circa. 1900.

An extensive collection of old horse decorations mounted on leather, a collection of graded buckles mounted on leather, a carved furniture decoration, a fire trivet, a letter stamp, etc.

An old milk churn inscribed: ‘S. Jackman, Buckingham’, a Bakelite record player by Columbia, an old coat hanger in the form of a doll, a similar doll, a brush with a doll handle, a bed pan … an old trunk, purple glass vase, etc.

A large well presented light brown sawfish rostrum, 130cm.

A large early Victorian neo-gothic burr walnut chiming mantel clock, by Daniel Desbois, the signed painted arched dial with strike/silent indicator below the chapter ring, with gilt hands, quarter chiming on eight bells and hour striking and with pull-cord repeat, the back plate signed … the case with outset cluster columns with obelisk finials flanking the arched cresting, 24″ high.
They make it sound a mess, but from the photo (right) it’s actually rather nice in it’s way. You’d need an enormous mantelpiece to put it on though.

A pull-along papier mache French Bulldog with nodding head, glass eyes, opening mouth and barking when chain pulled, fitted with coir and red fabric collar, early 20th century.

A probably tribal or theatrical musket.

A pair of William IV neo rococo ormolu candlesticks, each with a heron by a foliate scroll stem on rocaille base, complete with nozzles.
Yes, they are a complete mess!

A wax profile of Catherine the Great, said to be by G Dupre after Wyon, under glass in Georgian ebonised frame.

A broken stained glass roundel, probably 16th century, of St John the Baptist.

The skull and horns of a bison mounted on a shield and stand.

Seventeen terracotta, wood and pottery garden pots, and contents, and a linen box of rope sisal construction.

Two unusual mirrors incorporating the grille from a Rover 75 motor car, and another, a tennis racquet mirror, also a ship’s wheel nutcracker, water flask, wooden tool box with tools and a leather document case.

Four fire extinguishers.

A large quantity of artist’s equipment: pads, paints, an easel, also decorative lamps, birds under glass domes, resin bird figures …

A pair of occasional reproduction tables, each with a galleried centre section and two hinged ends, on moulded tapering legs.
But what are they at the times they aren’t reproduction tables?

As with so much of it, you just have to ask “Why?”.

Just for a chuckle …

The ‘flu jab crap continues. Gradually feeling better but still very depressed and not doing much. Hmmph! We are not impressed.

But just to cheer everyone, including me, up a bit I thought we’d have another cartoon from the archives.

Thoughts on England

Despite all the business, I have found some time for reading. One of these indulgences has been Letters from England by Karel Čapek, first published in Prague in 1924. Against my expectations it is a delight and pretty nearly a laugh a page — which is likely what was intended. All interspersed with Čapek’s curious little drawings.

Čapek is best known for writing, with his brother Josef, two almost iconic plays: R.U.R. (1920) and The Insect Play (1921). I know the latter as the short scenes were a staple of my school’s “house plays” and we even did a complete staging in my final year at school as that year’s school play. Ants running amok in the auditorium! Dark and malevolent; but great fun.

But Letters from England is Čapek’s reportage on a visit he paid to Britain. First he sojourns in London:

[S]ince I have already been on this Babylonian island ten days, I have lost the beginning. With what should I begin now? With grilled bacon or the exhibition at Wembley? With Mr Shaw or London policemen? I see that I am beginning very confusedly; but as for those policemen, I must say that they are recruited according to their beauty and size: they are like gods, a head above mortal men, and their power is unlimited. When one of those two-metre Bobbies at Piccadilly raises his arm, all vehicles come to a halt, Saturn becomes fixed and Uranus stands still on his heavenly orbit, waiting until Bobby lowers his arm again. I have never seen anything so superhuman.

[A]t night the cats make love as wildly as on the roofs of Palermo, despite all tales of English puritanism. Only the people are quieter here than elsewhere.

But not as long as I live will I become reconciled to what is known here as ‘traffic’, that is, to the volume of traffic in the streets. I remember with horror the day when they first brought me to London. First, they took me by train, then they ran through some huge, glass halls and pushed me into a barred cage which looked like a scales for weighing cattle. This was ‘a lift’ and it descended through an armour-plated well, whereupon they hauled me out and slid away through serpentine, underground corridors. It was like a horrible dream. Then there was a sort of tunnel or sewer with rails, and a buzzing train flew in. They threw me into it and the train flew on and it was very musty and oppressive in there, obviously because of the proximity to hell. Whereupon they took me out again and ran through new catacombs to an escalator which rattles like a mill and hurtles to the top with people on it. I tell you, it is like a fever. Then there were several more corridors and stairways and despite my resistance they led me out into the street, where my heart sank. A fourfold line of vehicles shunts along without end or interruption; buses, chugging mastodons tearing along in herds with bevies of little people on their backs, delivery vans, lorries, a flying pack of cars, steam engines, people running, tractors, ambulances, people climbing up onto the roofs of buses like squirrels, a new herd of motorised elephants; there, and now everything stands still, a muttering and rattling stream, and it can’t go any further …

Amongst Capek’s perambulations of the country he visits the Lake District and makes this note on the sheep:

Pilgrimage to the Sheep. It is true that there are sheep everywhere in England but lake sheep are particularly curly, graze on silken lawns and remind one of the souls of the blessed in heaven. No-one tends them and they spend their time in feeding, dreaming and pious contemplation.

He also makes numerous observations on the English themselves, including thes delights:

I wouldn’t like to make overly bold hypotheses, but it seems to me that the black and white stripes on English policemen’s sleeves have their direct origin in this striped style of old English houses.

Most beautiful in England though are the trees, the herds and the people; and then the ships. Old England also means those pink old gentlemen who with the advent of spring wear grey top hats and in summer chase small balls over golf courses and look so hearty and amiable that if I were eight years old I would want to play with them and old ladies who always have knitting in their hands and are pink, beautiful and kind, drink hot water and never tell you about their illnesses.

Every Englishman has a raincoat or an umbrella, a flat cap and a newspaper in his hand. If it is an Englishwoman, she has a raincoat or a tennis racket. Nature has a predilection here for unusual shagginess, overgrowth, bushiness, woolliness, bristliness and all types of hair. So, for example, English horses have whole tufts and tassels of hair on their legs, and English dogs are nothing but ridiculous bundles of locks. Only the English lawn and the English gentleman are shaved every day.

It’s real reportage of the hastily concocted letter home variety. A sort of semi-structured stream of consciousness. And none the worse for that. As I say it is pretty much an amusement a page. A couple of evening’s bedtime reading or something to while away a train journey.

TW3

So that was a week, was it? No actually it’s been a fortnight, and the next one bodes to be the same again. Here’s roughly what it’s been like:

Oh, much like normal then.

Auction Lotto

Our local auction houses seem to have been quiet recently, perhaps because of not wanting to compete with all the summer festivities. But they have now sprung back into life with their usual eccentric mix of objets trouvés. Here are some choice spots from the latest sale.

A large collection of Dutch ‘peasant’ silver octagonal buttons, comprising five of probably 18th century date, including four with horse and rider design and one with a coat of arms and with various maker’s marks … a set of seven horse and rider examples of later date with dolphin tax marks; a set of three with OS maker’s marks; a pair of large size; another pair with AR marks, and two others – one with a stag, together with a lion badge and a figural terminal.

A Spanish … silver articulated swordfish with green eyes, a pair of small fish pepperettes of similar type, a pair of shell salts on associated loaded silver bases, and a metal porringer.

Two shelves including decorative carthorses, cottage teapot, a quantity of Midwinter Roselle tea and dinner ware, cut glass, book on knitting, etc.
I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of selling things by the shelf. But they really do display the objects on labelled shelves.

A considerable quantity of as new and boxed items including a snooker table, electronic dart board, two folding beds, garden gate, rolls of hose, garden ornaments, solar lamps, kitchen tools, water features, and two spiral topiary trees, etc.
My mind is boggling slightly at the idea of boxing a snooker table.

A large heavy metal figure of a macaw on a stand replicating a tree stump, approximately 4’5″ tall.

A collage of stuffed birds: bullfinches, coal tit, greenfinch, chaffinch, etc.

A shelf and a half of wooden carvings, mainly tribal to include masks, flat faces, sculptures, busts, boxes and smaller implements

A wall mounted set of buffalo horns.

A stuffed blue Jay under glass dome

Four brown stoneware jugs and pots by Doulton, Lambeth etc., Framed, a blue glass dish, Staffordshire ogs, various other chinaware and figures, ‘The Ultra Lens’ boxed, black lacquered pots, a teddy bear riding a bicycle, didgeridoo-do, golf clubs, etc. Framed postcards: Colmans mustard, Wills ‘Gold Flake’ cigarettes, Championship lawn tennis Post, Huntley and Palmers, Bovril and Dunlop and a picture, Village cricket Nine gentleman in Waiting.
… but no kitchen sink!

A large bow with arrows and a large print of children with a horse.
The latter presumably as a target for the former.

A decorative sword in medieval style and a similar battle axe together with an Eastern dagger and scabbard and an Indian dagger.

A Rosenthal group of a putto and penguin disputing a crab, signed Ferd Liebermann

Two alligator skins, one including the head.

A 19th century Indian window surround of ornate carved design with painted decoration, and a panel of six candle holders.