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"

Sepia Saturday 157 : All I Want For Christmas Is A Chocolate Noisette

It is a Christmas theme here on Sepia Saturday 157 and I have two contributions for the party. The first is a postcard dating from the first decade of the 20th century which has the line, embossed with glue and glitter, "Xmas Chimes Recall Old Times". It is a suitable theme for Sepia Saturday which, each week of the year, recalls old times in a chiming melody of images. Sepia Saturday is three years old now, and still going strong, and the inclusion of this card gives me an opportunity to wish all the Sepia Saturday participants from all around the world, a very Merry Christmas.

In the best traditions of Sepia Saturday, my second contribution is a family photograph dating back to the early 1950s.  The little lad in the checked shirt and waistcoat, checking to make sure that Santa Clause isn't handing his brother a better present than he has just received, is, of course, myself. The occasion will have been the Annual Works Christmas Party put on by my fathers' employer : John Mackintosh & Sons.

Mackintosh's were the manufacturers of that most seasonal of Christmas gifts, Quality Street chocolate and toffees. No doubt the present we were receiving at that Christmas party all those years ago would be a half pound bag of Quality Street, but hopefully there would be something else as well, as chocolate toffee penny's and orange creams were mothers' milk to us Mackintosh kids.

You will have to imagine that I have a virtual tin of Quality Street here in front of me and I am handing each and every one of you a caramel swirl, or a chocolate noisette, or a chocolate toffee finger. It is my way of saying to you all :

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A PEACEFUL AND HEALTHY NEW YEAR.

As always, you can see many other Sepia Saturday contributions by following the links on the Sepia Saturday Blog.

Found At The Bottom Of A Cardboard Box

Found in the bottom of a cardboard box : an album of Wills Cigarette cards dating back to the late 1930s. This is one of the cards. The King, George VI, died in 1952, the victim of lung cancer having been a heavy smoker all his life. The Queen, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, died in 2002, aged 101. Glamis Pit in County Durham was closed in October 1974. W.D. & H.O. Wills became part of Imperial Tobacco, which still exists today.

Old Dogs In Porto

The life of this particular old dog over recent weeks has been devoted to attempting to learn a whole set of new tricks. Changing computers was just the start : one bit of hardware is very like another bit. The devil is in the detail of the software updates. Not only have I installed Light Room but I have updated my version of Photoshop from one which still had the unmistakable smell of developer fluid and acid hypo fixer. Tasks that were instinctive a month ago now seem to require an obstacle course undertaken whilst wearing a blindfold and balancing a mouse on the end of my nose. And that is a real mouse, as I ditched my computer mouse along with my old computer and invested in a Wacom Bamboo Tablet and pen.

I am currently slowly importing all my old digital image files into Light Room, and because I started taking digital photographs about 15 years ago, that is quite a task. At least it gives me time to review my old photographs, so you will have to excuse me if I take the opportunity to post some here. Think of it as an exercise in new tricks for an old dog.

I took this particular photograph in Porto, Portugal in March 2000. I was covering the EU Summit meeting which was taking place in the city and I took advantage of the beautiful Spring weather to explore the glorious old city.

West Yorkshire : Like The Legs Of An Irish Dancer

I am not certain where I took this photograph. It is somewhere in West Yorkshire, that's for sure, and I must have taken it about 30 or 40 years ago. As so often in this part of the world it is the roof line that is the centre of attention. Shapes fight shapes, orientations have a pleasing diversity, and ostentation is a stranger to these lands and these times. With its grey skies and black earth, all the attention is concentrated on a strip of activity - like the legs of an Irish dancer.

Sepia Saturday 156 : Humbugs and Herd Immunity

It's getting near the Festive Season and it is all Christmas Trees, Reindeer, and Kiss Me Quick Under The Mistletoe : and our Sepia Saturday theme image this week features a somewhat acrobatic kiss. Now call me an old misery if you will, but such activities have always seemed to me to be best suited to spreading herd immunity from a host of infectious diseases; but perhaps such a view comes from being married to a Medical Microbiologist for nearly 40 years.

My submission this week is a postcard which dates back to 1906 and which was published by the Cynicus Publishing Company of Tayport, Fife. As you can see we have a similarly acrobatic embrace along with a line from the Victorian song "In The Gloaming". Written by Annie Fortescue Harrison and Meta Caroline Orred, the song is a typical bit of Victorian melodrama about doing the right thing and setting a lover free.

"Think not bitterly of me

Though I passed away in silence

Left you lonely, set you free

For my heart was tossed with longing

What had been could never be

It was best to leave you thus, dear,

Best for you, and best for me."

It is supposed to be semi-autobiographical because Annie (a lowly daughter of a Conservative MP!) fell in love with the 4th Marquis of Downshire, but gave him up because she was from a lower class and status and wrote music instead. Some time later the Marquis heard the song at a concert and realised it was about himself and sought her out and proposed to her and they were married in 1877. It seems to me to be a little too much like the stuff a celebrity publicist would come out with and, if like me, you can't stand a happy ending, you will be better concentrating on the artist who drew and published the postcard.

"Cynicus" was the name used by the Victorian artist Martin Anderson who gained fame during the picture postcard craze of the first decade of the twentieth century. Unlike many other postcard artists who produced their drawings for established publishers, Anderson set up his own publishing company - The Cynicus Publishing Company - and for a brief time achieved both fame and fortune. Alas, the success was as short lived as the postcard craze and by 1911 the business faced financial ruin. Poor Anderson lived for the next two decades in poverty and was eventually laid to rest in an unmarked paupers' grave.

Now that's the kind of story we want for Christmas. Bah Humbug to the lot of you!

After reading this you can cheer yourself up by reading posts from all the optimists over at the Sepia Saturday Blog.

Manchester Triptych

We went to the German Christmas Market in Manchester yesterday - a splendid day out. But it was this wonderful combination of images, seen in Manchester Victoria Station, which will remain in my mind : a modern triptych. I have always been fascinated by information, and books have always been a love of my life. And a man can dream, can't he?

Fake Shawls, Cheap China and Details

The devil is in the detail, they say. But so often with images it is the very opposite, the detail is where the beauty, the unexpected, the entrancing resides. Last Sunday we went to a Victorian Christmas Fayre. It was mostly fake shawls and cheap china, but there was an old powered fairground ride with exquisitely painted panels. This woman looks straight at me, demanding to have her photograph taken.