Category Archives: history

amusements, books, history

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.

history, links, science

Missing …

Another selection of links to recent items you may have missed. This edition is an unusual mix of history and science.

Ben Goldacre, writer of the “Bad Science” column in the Guardian, has a new book out this week. Titled Bad Pharma it looks at the ways in which drug companies and their allies distort the evidence about the effectiveness of drugs and mislead regulators, doctors and patients. Here’s an extract.

Can I go back to bed now? We all suffer from insomnia at least occasionally. This Guardian item looks at the problem of persistent insomnia and current ideas on what to do about it.

It seems taking too many painkillers can give you a headache. Duh, my head hurts!

Humans eat humans. Well who knew? But now there is good evidence for prehistoric cannibalism which wasn’t just ritual.

I think we already knew that wild parrots name their babies, but here’s another look at the original study.

This interesting short item from the New York Times looks at the finding of a scrap of papyrus which appears to refer to Jesus’s wife.

Following up on a recent theme the Guardian (well they do have a good science stream) has a piece on the completion of the archaeological dig which may have found the remains of Richard III.

And finally after something like 60 years the experts have decided that three “fake” JMW Turner paintings are actually the genuine article. New technology has provided new evidence that has altered opinions. And finally it’s vindication for the collectors who bequeathed then the the National Museum of Wales.

history, ramblings, sexuality, thoughts

If Scotchmen can wear kilts …

Well indeed! If Scotsmen (and Irishmen) can wear kilts, and females of all ages can wear trousers, why in blazes can’t boys wear frocks?

It makes no sense. Except as a means of perpetuating the male dominant status quo.

There was an interesting, and rather worrying, article a few weeks back in the New York Times about the angst that parents go through when their son wants to wear what they think of as “girl clothes”. Of course, being America, whole families are in analysis rather than just getting on with life.

And do you know what? Most of these kids are no more than four or six years old. But they’re still seen as deviant, or worse. The article even acknowledges that few of them continue to want to dress as girls beyond the age of about 10.

And so what if they do? Why on earth does it matter?


Read this for another scary example of sexist reaction
to a 15-year-old boy in a dress.
Doesn’t the lad look rather good?
It is really only in the western world that we’ve become wedded to the idea than men have to wear trousers, and to do anything else is either deviant or at best a huge joke. See most people’s reaction to the aforesaid Scotsmen in kilts, or actors in drag.

Until about 100 years ago effectively all small boys, regardless of class, would have been routinely dressed in frocks until they were at least five years old. In Arabia and northern Africa men and women still wear loose robes. In Japan men traditionally wore kimono the same as women. Not to mention the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians … or monks.

OK, it’s easy for me. I’m not a parent and I haven’t had to cope with it. But I would hope that if I had I might have been a bit more level-headed. And yes, I do concede that it must be hard — especially for the young kids — when most of society doesn’t understand and people are so spiteful. So they need strong and sympathetic parents, not analysis!

But FFS why do parents have to worry when the kids are only six, or in one case in the article as young as three!? Kids of both genders, especially young kids, like to dress up. Whether that’s in mum’s high heels, as Davey Crocket, or Spiderman, or My Little Pony. And some kids are more comfortable in some clothes than others; some (heaven help us!) are most comfortable in no clothes. Where’s the problem?

When I was young we didn’t have much choice in clothes. There were no t-shirts, sweatshirts, football strip, trainers, batman outfits, jeans, … Today kids can have a whole range of choice, so no wonder a few will pick something a section of “society at large” thinks unsuitable. Most of them grow out of it, just as they grow out of collecting Pokemon, plastic pigs or used tea bags.

Even if they don’t grow out of wanting to wear dresses, WTF does it matter?

Society is able to accept many things that were formerly seen as deviant or unacceptable — men with earrings, homosexuality, bikinis, tattoos … So why can’t we be more comfortable with boys wearing dresses?

history, pleasures

Of Flowers, Sheep and Churches

Last Monday we spent the day in Norfolk. The main purpose was to visit my mother, but we also managed to fit in an hour or so of being tourists.

As normal we left home about 7.30am and we had a really clear run up to Norwich. By the time we arrived the sun was burning off the overnight cloud and the day was working up to be another scorcher.

Having spent a quick 20 minutes with mother, really just to see what if any bits of shopping she needed, we scooted off to Bowthorpe: take some stuff to the good charity shop there and a quick wander round Roy’s, the local supermarket.

I’ve written about Roy’s before. They started as boat chandlers in Wroxham, on the Broads. As I recall about 40 years ago they bought the Wroxham Post Office and General Store and expanded to become Roy’s of Wroxham. They now have a small chain of supermarkets serving the local communities; they are still family owned. Their philosophy is to stock the basics and whatever they can get cheap — everything is cheap — and if it’s local so much the better. True to their origins they sell everything from frozen food to paint, insect spray to shoes. Apart from the staples you can never be sure that if you buy something there today they’ll have it next week. It is a cross between Lidl, a pound shop and a market stall — they don’t describe themselves as “the world’s largest village store” for nothing! The downside is that their fruit, salad and meat isn’t always top quality, but there are definite bargains (like our favourite packs of bacon pieces) if you shop carefully.

After Roy’s it was off for pub lunch at the excellent King’s Head at Bawburgh. We were early and by now it was hot, so it was cold soft drinks all round. It was even too hot for fish and chips or beef suet pudding! So we all settled for the most excellent Ploughman’s Lunch: craft cheese, home-cured smoked ham, home-made pork pie, granary bread, tomato, pickled onion and home-made piccalilli. It was good, wholesome and tasty; none of your plastic packet food here. It was so good we none of us wanted a pudding!

Click the images for larger views on Flickr
Hollyhock Hollyhock
I stopped in Bawburgh to photograph a few of the magnificent hollyhocks growing outside some of the cottages. Then on the way back to see mother for the afternoon we stopped and gathered some flowers for her to paint and a small bundle of stray corn: we found wheat, naturalised oats and naturalised barley in the field margins.

Bouquet
The time saved early in the day allowed us to leave mother slightly early and take advantage of the good weather with a diversion on the way home. Much as we like the section of the A11 from Norwich, by way of Thetford and Eleveden, to Mildenhall it is nice to see something different. So we followed the A47 round to Dereham, then the A1075 through Watton, rejoining the A11 near Thetford.

This was a deliberate ploy to go through the lovely village of Shipdham — literally “settlement of the sheep”, which tells you where its wealth came from — where we stopped for an ice cream and a look at the church.

Shipdham Church, Norfolk
All Saints, Shipdham is a rather interesting church. It clearly has Norman origins and lots of later developments, finally having been “tidied up” by the Victorians. On top of the originally 13th century tower there is a two-tier, 17th century cupola of wood covered with lead. There is a nave (totally Victorianised) and a north aisle which still has it’s early roof beams. Strangely the church has two fonts: it’s own 14th century one and a Norman font rescued from Ovington which they now use in preference to their own. It is a small delight.

Shipdham Church, Norfolk Flint & Brick
Shipdham is also interesting because it was clearly quite prosperous in medieval, Tudor and Stuart times. Hence the surprisingly imposing church with a neat walled, picture-book churchyard. The village also had its own brickworks for several hundred years up until around 1820. So as well as the ubiquitous Norfolk flint there are still a number of examples of the local small, pale red bricks as can be seen in the church wall above.

If you’re going that way, Shipdham is definitely worth a quick stop.

history, photography, pleasures

Gallery : The Everyday

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So Wednesday has come round again, which means it’s time for Tara’s weekly Gallery. This week we’re being challenged to photograph The Everyday — things we tend to not photograph because they’re not special they’re just ordinary and always there.

OK, so I’m going to cheat slightly …

Victorian Postbox
Click the image for larger versions on Flickr

… but only slightly, as this is a special pillar box. It’s an early Victorian model and there aren’t many of them still around. This one is in Eton High Street and must date from around 1855-1860.

The pillar box (and the wall-mounted post box) is something we tend to ignore; they’re common and we use them regularly. Yet they are an enduring piece of British life as well as being a very good and functional piece of design. It is surprising how old some of them are, but then they are mostly made of highly durable cast iron and are well painted. It is also interesting how ornate some of the Victorian pillar boxes are: the hexagonal ones (which are more common than this “Greek column” design) are especially good, their top being in the shape of a (flattened) crown. Some, like this one, are actually listed buildings!

You can always get a first guess at the age of any pillar box because every one carries the insignia of the monarch at the time it was erected. On this one you can just see the end of the VR, for Queen Victoria, at the top left. Notice too the very small vertical aperture.

The pillar box, although originally suggested by Rowland Hill (he of the Penny Post), was actually introduced by Anthony Trollope (yes, the novelist) whose day job from 1841 to 1867 was as a Post Office Surveyor (first in Ireland and, from 1851, in Eastern England); he lived for many years in my home town (Waltham Cross). The early boxes were of various colours, with green being the initial standard (there are still a few green ones around; there’s one in Rochester, Kent) with red being adopted from around 1874.

There’s more on the the history of the Pillar Box on Wikipedia. An everyday object with some fascinating history.

amusements, history, links, medical, science

Links What You May Have Missed

A pretty mixed bag of the curious and interesting which you may have missed in this instalment. Let’s start with the historical …

Archaeologists reckon they’ve located the exact site, and part of the structure of, the Curtain theatre in London’s Shoreditch area, which was used by Shakespeare prior to The Globe.

Meanwhile on the south coast some other archaeologists have discovered wall paintings of a dozen or so medieval ships in a Winchelsea cellar. That has to be worth a visit!

Elsewhere historians are puzzling over the possibility that the ancients were also visited by UFOs and flying saucers.

From ancient history to natural history … You always wanted to know about turtle sex, didn’t you? Well here’s a disquisition on the terrifying sex organs of male turtles. We’re promised girlie turtle anatomy to follow.

While on the subject of sex (well you just knew there’d be more, didn’t you!) back in 2006 an American Roman Catholic nun and theologian wrote a sensible book about sex and relationships. But now the Vatican has decided it doesn’t like the content and has banned it. What price Galileo?

Now, what will the medics come up with next? Oh, I know, fungi. After investigating the bacteria and viruses which reside in our guts they’ve now started to investigate similarly located fungi.

Scientists have also been investigating whether whether human farts are germ-laden, or merely malodorous. Turns out they are germ-laden, but only if you’re naked.

So now for something a little more appealing. Emily is getting married. (Well people will do it, y’know!) But what’s this? The latest wedding accessory appears to be … a birdcage! Her only question is “why?“!!

And finally while on the subject of nubiles, didn’t you always want to know what was inside Kylie’s knickers? Well now you can thanks to a surprisingly interesting collection of X-ray images of of everyday objects as art.

Toodle pip!

history, links, science

In Case You Missed …

Another in our occasional series of links to interesting items you may have missed. First several scientific items.

Why is there a universe? Where did it appear from? Sean Carroll investigates.

Singing Mice? Yes they really do sing! And no-one knew until recently.

Next, an interesting summary of the history of the last 200 years in surgery. Just be thankful you live now and not then!

And after all that heavy stuff here are some great examples of the humour of taxonomists. Never let it be sad that scientists are terminally dull.

And finally for the scientific, here’s a report of a rather pretty and extremely rare strawberry blonde leopard (above) spotted in the wild.

Back to the heavy stuff for a minute, here’s an important examination of the interaction of gender and world politics. Seems those countries which are worst on gender equality are also the least stable.

Finally something completely different. Scholars are suggesting that a previously unexamined Elizabethan map of America provides clue to a lost colony.

history, people, personal

Forgive Me for I have Sinned

I have sinned. I need shriving.

We should have spent the weekend doing boring domestic things like cleaning out cupboards and throwing away toot, or doing literary society work.

But we haven’t.

The only domestic stuff I managed to do was (a) the regular paperwork and make sure the bills are paid and (b) to put together the Saturday and Sunday evening meals. That really isn’t good enough considering the jumble-sale state of the house.

But did we care? Did we hell!

Instead we worked at cracking a couple of blockages in tracing my family history. We haven’t cracked them but we have made progress and narrowed some of the options. In both cases this is down to two heads being better than one, and Noreen having a couple of brainwaves.

The two cases are totally unrelated; one in my father’s family the other in my mother’s. The former in Kent; the latter in London. But both at at the end of the 18th century and beginning of the 19th, so way before there are birth, marriage and death registrations or censuses to help much.

In my father’s family I have a gg-grandfather the date of whose marriage I can’t prove and whose parentage I can’t prove. There is later census data which shows a string of children and there are death registrations for both gg-grandparents. I can’t prove which of two candidates is my gg-grandfather: there are two guys with the same names, born to different parents, within 2 years (1805-1807) in the same village. Which of them was it who married my gg-grandmother? I cannot tell. At very best I have some extremely vague circumstantial evidence. (Note that at this date most parish records do not give the names of the bride’s and groom’s fathers.)

But Noreen did solve part of the puzzle over gg-grandfather’s marriage. The marriage dates for my gg-grandparents don’t fit with the string of children — several are born before the apparent marriage. Noreen said “I don’t suppose he had two marriages?”. And yes, from the baptism records, it looks as if he did and that my gg-grandmother was his second wife. The first half of the children are by his first wife; and my line descends from the youngest child of the second wife. And that puts the marriage in the right place on the timeline. I still can’t prove it conclusively, but it looks likely.

This is going to be a case of go and hunt in the actual parish registers for the relevant villages and see if there are clues which aren’t in the transcriptions.


Late-1930/early-1931. My father (centre) aged about 10, with his parents, younger brother and baby sister.
It’s my grandfather’s line I’m trying to fix.
[Apologies for the scan of a poor copy of a poor original!]

In the other case, on my mother’s side, I have as good as fixed the problem gg-grandparents already, although corroboration would be nice. But I cannot fix my gg-grandmother’s parents or their parents.

We have likely baptisms for the ggg-grandparents, and also ggg-grandfather’s death. There appears to be a marriage, but the date is in doubt (by all of 10 years — choose 1822 or 1832!). 1822 is the more likely as the first child appears to be born in 1823. But by dint of diligent searching and some good guesswork we’ve managed to fix ggg-grandparents’ family on the 1841 census which we couldn’t previously and found a couple of their children who we didn’t previously know about and who probably died prior to 1841.

That doesn’t help unravel the problem of the gggg-grandparents although there are now a few clues to work on. And fortunately in this case we are looking at people with relatively uncommon surnames, but in London where many of the parish records aren’t available online (yet).

But we have made progress. Again it is going to be a case of looking at the original parish registers of a couple of well known London churches to see what clues they can offer which the available transcriptions can’t.

How do we do it? Basically I work as far as I can and draw out the options. In each case I then take Noreen through the case, outlining what I know and can prove, what we need to prove, and where there are conflicts or gaps. We then check the data together. And hunt together (or separately) other avenues which present themselves. We have ideas and hunches and try to prove (or disprove) them. And I do the same for Noreen’s researches. One of us presents our case and the other acts as judge. When we agree a position we then both act as investigating magistrates.

Yes, it is hard work and it does need two brains on the problem. It has to be approached forensically. One needs to know the result is correct; I liken it to having to convince a court. Many people are far too slapdash and make assumed connections where there are none; too much of what I see others doing I can easily prove to be wrong. I have to be convinced beyond reasonable doubt.

And it’s as annoying as hell not to be ale to crack the problems.

But it sure beats doing housework!

history, words

Today's Word : Halberd

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Halberd
A military weapon, especially in use during the 15th and 16th centuries. A kind of combination of spear and battle-axe, consisting of a sharp-edged blade ending in a point, and a spear-head, mounted on a handle five to seven feet long.
By transference, a soldier armed with a halberd; a halberdier. [Below left]
Halberds are still currently carried by the Papal Swiss Guard.

Compare with …

Pike
A weapon consisting of a wooden shaft, typically 14 to 15 feet long, with a pointed head of iron or steel; formerly the chief weapon of a large part of the infantry; superseded in 18th century by the bayonet.
A soldier armed with a pike is generally a pikeman. [Below right]
Possibly the best way in the UK to see pikes and pikemen is either at a Civil war re-enactment or at London’s Lord Mayor’s Show on the second Saturday in November.

And of course there is then …

Spontoon
A species of half-pike or halberd carried by infantry officers in the 18th century (from about 1740); generally 6 to 7 feet in length.  

arts, history, photography, ramblings, topographical

Awayday

Yesterday we had an awayday. As part of her Christmas present I said I’d take Noreen to Chichester before mid-February to see the Edward Burra exhibition at Pallant House Gallery. I also knew we’d also get at least a wander round the cathedral and a sniff round any bookshops we stumbled across. And of course there’s always lunch and coffee and cake and …

So yesterday was the day. Although we didn’t spend quite as long poking around Chichester as I’d hoped (the decrepit old knees won’t take a lot of it these days) it felt like a bit of a marathon, what with living the other side of London.

We left home just before 8am, took the train into Marylebone and a taxi across to Victoria where we were eventually allowed onto the train to Chichester. ETA 1115. (Coming home took just as long.)

The first stop was the cathedral which was welcoming and actually quite busy for a winter Tuesday. The heart of the building is Norman and there are some lovely decorated arches. But to be honest beyond that I didn’t find it one of the most entrancing cathedrals I’ve visited, although given that there are gardens (not visited) it would probably be much better on a summer’s day.

There is a (Victorian?) stained glass window and a memorial tablet commemorating the Tudor/Jacobean composer Thomas Weelkes and another tablet commemorating Gustav Holst. The stained glass window by Marc Chagall is also worth seeing.

There is also a rather lovely and unexpected piece of Roman mosaic which was discovered under the foundations and is now visible, in situ, behind a glass viewing panel in the floor. The cloisters, with their wooden vaulted roof are unusual and rather rather nice.

Roman Floor below Chichester Cathedral Cloister, Chichester Cathedral
More photos on Flickr

Lunch in the cathedral café was simple, good and welcomly warming on a bitter January day. Noreen had a pasta bake with veg and I had a fish bake also with veg. With a soft drink each this was, I thought, good value at under £18 for the both of us.

After lunch we wandered slowly past the market cross to find the Pallent House Gallery which was staging the Edward Burra exhibition. We hit a day when the gallery were doing half-price admission. Unexpected result!

I’ve never been sure about Burra’s paintings but he was a friend of Anthony Powell, especially pre-war, so a viewing was a necessity. Having seen the paintings in the flesh I’m still not sure about them; to be honest most of them really don’t do much for me. Many were smaller than I’d imagined, although there were also some which are much larger than expected. One or two of Burra’s late landscapes were rather nice, but his earlier work is extremely “disturbed” being often a cross between Heironymus Bosch (a known influence on Burra) and Salvador Dali. All in all his paintings look better in reproduction. Having said that Burra is probably more important than is often credited, under-rated and under-exposed — but this latter is doubtless because most of his surviving work is on private collections.

By now it was early afternoon and still bitterly cold. A meander through the town unearthed a secondhand bookshop, but nothing interesting to spend our money on. So we whiled away an hour drinking coffee and eating cake then made our way towards the station.

We just missed a train. This meant an amusing but cold 30 minute wait for the next one. I don’t know what it is about this area of the country but the train stations seem to be populated by a peculiarly local inter-mix of teenage school girls, low-life and the inhabitants of the nearest loony bin. At least it makes for an amusing way to waste the time between trains.

Nutter Triptych, Chichester Station
More photos on Flickr

The train back to Victoria was another amusement. It consisted of a 3 year-old who insisted, despite his mother’s instructions, on working the squeaky hinge of the lift-up tray on the seat. Two lads of about 20 who were Tottenham Hotspur supporters going to see Spurs play and who in 90 minutes managed to drink four cans of premium lager each! How they were standing by the time we reached Victoria GOK; but at least they were harmless. Although best of all was a large group of sub-teen French school-kids who at one point broke into a rendition of Queen’s I Want to Ride My Bicycle in cracked English. I was waiting for them to do the ‘Allo ‘Allo version of The Wheels on the Bus but sadly this never materialised. It would have been a fitting end to an interesting day.