Harry And His Jacket

I bought a new jacket last week. We were walking around Boundary Mill in Colne when I saw a jacket and it seemed to shout out "buy me". There was something familiar about it, something comforting, something substantial. I felt as though I might have owned it for generations, but knew I hadn't done so. And then, today, looking through some old 35mm slides I took back in the 1960s, I came across this portrait of "Uncle Harry". He is wearing my jacket : the same tweedy weave, the same Autumnal shades, the same classic cut. Perhaps I should now hunt out the shirt, tie and pullover. But I think I will give those glasses a miss.

Leopard Attacks And Inky Fingers

I have to admit, I am a newspaper junkie. If eyes are a window to the soul, then a daily newspaper is a window to the soul of a nation. Whenever I am on holiday I will seek out the local newspaper and devour it like a big bad wolf devouring a chicken nugget. If it is written in English, so much the better, otherwise I will look at the pictures and try to guess what the story might be about from the slightest of clues.

My love of newspapers is not based on the physical properties of paper and ink. Whilst I will admit that there is a decent argument for choosing fine leather-bound books rather than their digital, electronic cousins, it would be a perverse fellow who was drawn to the arm-arching broadsheet or the ink-dripping tabloid. So you might think that I would be a fan of electronic news sites or tablet versions of existing newspapers. This, however, is not the case. There is something about the layout of the traditional newspaper - the jumble of words and images, the multitude of columns - which is not replicated in on-line news sites. 

And so after experimenting with everything from Kindle newspapers to news aggregators, from iPad editions to Google Reader, I have returned to my first love, the service provided by PressDisplay.com. Be warned, subscriptions are not cheap, but fixes seldom are for us addicts. Press Display gives its' subscribers unlimited access to something like 2,000 newspapers worldwide. You can read a different newspaper every day for the rest of your life (well almost), travel the world without leaving your armchair, catch up with events in Mumbai, are scan the obituaries in Dayton, Ohio.

I could go on about the advantages of PressDisplay, but it will begin to sound like an advert, and, whatever you might think, I am not being paid by them to write this. The purpose of this post is merely to point out the service to any other addicts there might be out there, and to give a Yorkshireman's nod of approval to the company providing the product. The other point of this post is to share with you something I was reading in the Mumbai edition of the Indian newspaper, Daily News and Analysis (DNA), this morning. Did you know that 7 people will killed by leopards in India last year? Now, that is interesting, isn't it?

Big Moors - Big Mac.

My screen saver this week is a photograph I took back in April 2008. The moors might be Scammonden Moors or they may be Marsden Moors, strict borders and geographical labels are as rare as MacDonald restaurants on the tops.  The A640, Huddersfield to Rochdale road, runs along the ridge. The white building in the centre is a farmhouse, although back in 2008 it was undergoing redevelopment. Perhaps it was being turned into a fast food restaurant.

The Mystery Of Genetics And A Bar Of Coal Tar Soap

For my Sepia Saturday post last week I was trying to decide whether a young soldier in an old family photograph was my grandfather, Enoch Burnett. I do not have any pictures of Enoch as a young man, so I was left with guesswork and the helpful suggestions of other Sepians ("Sepian" = Sepia Saturday contributor). It was only after I had published the post that I thought of running the photographs through the facial recognition software which forms part of the Google photo-management suite, Picasa 3. If you have never tried the facial recognition on Picasa 3, it is well worth the experiment : the software is free to download, and once you identify one face it will work its way through all your photographs looking for a match. It is frighteningly accurate and mis-matches tend to have genetic roots (mistaking parent for child, or sibling for sibling). It is a powerful reminder of the power of genetics.

I received another powerful reminder of genetics the other morning when I went for my bath. For years I have been addicted to Wright's Coal Tar Soap with its powerful aroma of thick tar and its enticing colour of congealed custard. Another great advantage is that I have never met anyone else who likes the stuff, and thus I am normally guaranteed my bar of soap, unpilfered by other hands, undiminished by other latherings. On reaching for the familiar bar of soap I discovered that it was gone : taken to the shower by a foreign hand. The Lad is back at home at the moment in the run-up to his Finals, and it didn't take me long to discover that he was the culprit. It appears that, unknown to me and almost independent of me, he has also developed an addiction for coal tar soap. Now that is the power of genetics.

Paradise

I must have taken this photograph in about 1970. Clearly it is Paradise Street. My first thought was that it was in Elland, but a quick search reveals no such street. But there is a Paradise Street in Halifax, now completely cleared of all its houses. So, now we know the location of paradise.

My Contribution To Cultural Heritage

"Minding Baby" is the title of this early colour postcard. It was published by the Glasgow firm of Millar and Lang during the first few years of the twentieth century. It was a time when colour photographs were produced by hand-tinting black and white images, and this gave rise to all sorts of strange shades and colour combinations. As far as I can tell, this particular image has never been scanned before, and therefore I am proud to make it available to the world via the Internet, free of charge and copyright free. Think of it as my contribution to our shared cultural heritage.

Enoch And The Boers

I don't have all that many military pictures in my family collection. The two great fountain-heads of my collection of old photographs - my father and my mothers' Uncle Fowler - were both machine fitters and held back in reserved occupations during the great conflicts of the twentieth century. But I do have a couple of intriguing photographs which almost appear to be from an earlier age.

My main photograph is so faded and out of focus that it is impossible to make out any detail on the uniforms or the flag. It is, however, in the family collection and, as I am the first annoying curator of that collection to add "outside" photographs, it is likely to feature a family member. I have always wondered whether it included my grandfather, Enoch Burnett, and was of a training company of volunteers around the time of the Boer Wars.

The second photograph is much clearer and it would seem that the uniforms are the same. The young chap at the bottom of the picture looks remarkably like my father in his youth, but the dates would all be wrong. I therefore wonder if it is, in fact, his father, Enoch. I have no other pictures of Enoch as a young man and therefore I have nothing to compare it with. Enoch was born in 1878 and therefore he would have been 21 at the time of the Second Boer War. By the time the First World War came around he was in his late 30s, and, as my final picture shows, looking much older than the youth in the photograph.

So my fourth - or is it my fifth - year of Sepia Saturday starts off with a mystery, which is perfect, because that is what old photographs are all about: mysteries wrapped up in enigmas and printed in a faded sepia tint. Happy 2013 to all my fellow Sepians.

You can get 2013 off to a sepia start by following all the links on the Sepia Saturday Blog

Good Advice, Frequent Practice And Plenty Of Sand

I suppose I spend far too long sat in front of a computer screen but I have reached the age where I can ignore all good advice and do as I see fit. So rather than spending less time in front of the computer I have decided to change my home screen on a weekly basis so at least on those frequent occasions I am staring at the screen searching for inspiration there is a different view to entertain me. I will try and share a few of those home screen images over the coming months.

This weeks' image was taken back in 2010 in Weymouth, Dorset. If you look carefully you will see a woman sat next to the Punch and Judy tent, seemingly practising her moves for the coming show. Either that, or she has been sat in the sun for too long.

A Pint With Squire Chucklehead

An occasional series in which we dig back through the columns of old newspapers in search of new insights.

From The Liverpool Mercury, January 1st 1813:

A notice appeared relating to the supposed inaugural meeting of the Bullock Smithy Back Bone And Spinal Marrow Club, which was a Society of High Conservatives dedicated to the politics of "the Immortal Statesman now no more" (William Pitt the Younger) and opposed to all things radical and liberal. The resolutions underline the hatred of the French, the Americans and the Whig (Liberal) Party. A "Jannock" was a "pleasant, outspoken, honest and generous person" and the Whitbread referred to was Samuel Whitbread II, the heir to the brewing fortune who, at the time, was the leader of the Whig Party in the House of Commons. The notice appeared not only in the national newspapers referred to in Resolution 7 but also in a number of regional newspapers such as the Liverpool Mercury. 1813 was a year which saw Britain at war with not only France, but the United States as well.

"At a most numerous and respectable Meeting, held at the sign of the Goose, in Bullock Smithy, Squire Chucklehead in the chair, the following Resolutions were moved by Mr. Bungrod :—.

1. Resolved, That no person can be admitted a member of the Bullock Smithy Back Bone and Spinal Marrow Club,, who has not always been known to be 'Jannock,' and distinguished himself as a staunch friend to the politics of the ' Immortal Statesman now no more !'—he must be an advocate for all the 'just and necessary wars' in which we have been engaged, are now engaged, or ever may be engaged; but it is most especially essential that he be a steadfast '. friend to our holy religion.
2. Resolved, That no French wine, brandy or foreign china be used in the club-room; nor shall puddings or dumplings made of American flour, be eaten therein.
3. Resolved, That such is our contempt for the Whig party, that no member of this Club be allowed to wear a wig.
4. Resolved, That as the names of Whitbread, Brough'm, and all the crew of Jacobin reformers, are hateful to our ears, the landlady of this house be forbidden to sell any of Whitbread's porter, or sweep out the club-room with a broom.
5. Resolved, That British herb tobacco be substituted in future for Virginia, or any other Yankee stuff; and that no snuff be used but Tory's scented rappee.
6. Resolved, That no member of this Club shall ever employ any workmen who are known to be, readers of Jacobin newspapers, or who have ever worn pink watch-ribbons.
7. Resolved, That these Resolutions be published in those constitutional newspapers, the Morning Post, the Sun, and the Courier; and that, the foundation of this Club being a national object, our friends Guzzle and Gobble, the churchwardens, be requested to defray the expenses of such advertising from the parish funds.
8. Resolved, That the thanks of this meeting are most particularly due to Squire Chucklehead, for his grave and alderman-like conduct in the chair."

Samuel Whitbread was an interesting character (all brewers tend to be interesting characters!) He was the son of the founder of the great London brewery, Samuel Whitbread & Sons, who, unlike his father, was born into fortune and privilege. But just as the self-made elder Whitbread was a staunch Tory, the Eton educated son was a radical, a liberal and a supporter of the French revolution and the American colonists. During the Napoleonic wars with France, Whitbread constantly supported the cause of peace and was devastated when Napoleon was defeated and abdicated.

He fell into a deep depression, one which could not be cured even by his fine beer and porter. In 1815 he took his own life. Squire Chucklehead will have survived, of course : knaves and fools often do.

Work

Halifax, back in the 1960s. I suspect the building in the foreground is the Albion Mills factory of John Mackintosh & Sons. My father used to work there. The building to the right of the photograph is the Riding Hall Carpets Mill. I used to work there. Between are a fine collection of gas works and cooling towers. All gone, now, of course. Replaced by discount stores and car parks. Few people work there.

A Progress Report on 2012 And a Toast For 2013

Last January I started the new year off with a list of resolutions and a promise that I would return to them before the end of the year. As one of the resolutions was to become "a better, more interactive and more regular blogger", it is a good indication of my overall lack of success that I only managed to return to the list after the end of the year. Better late than never, however, so here is the progress report.

1. Become a fitter and healthier person ... : It would be nice to award myself a tick, but although I am not particularly fit nor robustly healthy, at least I am honest. Amy and I have walked less than in previous years (blame the rain) and I have managed to avoid practically all healthy vegetables for the full twelve months (blame the taste).

2. Complete the Great Novella of the 21st Century .... It is still not finished although it has now clocked up some 85,000 words. At the moment and unless I can get down to serious business in the bright dawn of the New Year, it looks like the "Great Nevella of the 21st Century"

3. Regularly chart my progress in the longest dog-walk ever ..... Total failure on this score as Amy and I have made little progress in our northerly trek up the West Coast of the USA. However, the Lad and I are busy planning a real-time trip to the West Coast which hopefully will take place this summer which will be some recompense for the lack of virtual movement (for me, if not for Amy).

4. Be a better, more interactive and more regular blogger ..... No further comment is necessary.

5. Waste less time ..... In retrospect, I am going to withdraw this resolution on the grounds that it was ill-conceived, deeply flawed, and counter-productive. After considerable thought, I have decided that wasting time is the very objective of my life. Therefore, at one minute past midnight on the 1st January 2013, I raise my glass of Milltown Brewery's "Maltissimo" and propose the toast "2013 - The Year Of Wasted Time"