Martin Fone's Blog, page 198
April 6, 2020
The Streets Of London – Part One Hundred And Five
Cecil Court, WC2N
As a bibliophile, if I was to come back as a ghost, the place I would like to haunt is Cecil Court aka Booksellers’ Row, a lovely little street to be found on the right-hand side of St Martin’s Lane as you walk towards the Thames, stuffed with second-hand bookstores and antiquarian shops. The land upon which it is situated was bought by the Cecil family in 1609, they still own it, and this court takes its name from the family.
When the Court was initially laid out is difficult to date with any precision. It is one of the oldest thoroughfares in the Covent Garden area, some dating it to the 1670s, although it does not feature in William Morgan’s incredibly detailed map of the city, London etc Actually Survey’d from 1682 and the earliest mention of it in a rent book is as late as 1695. I think we have to conclude that it is late 17th century and when it does make an appearance in maps from the 18th century, a hedgerow can be seen running along it.
John Strype, in his Survey of the Cities of London & Westminster from 1720, described it as “a new built Court, with very good Houses, fit for good Inhabitants”. Strype may have been somewhat optimistic in his assessment as residents from the Court make appearances in the Old Bailey on a range of charges including petty theft, highway robbery, forgery and arson. Perhaps the most notorious resident at the time was Elizabeth Calloway, who, in 1735, kept a Brandy Shop there of some notoriety where her customers could be found “drinking, smoaking, and swearing, and running up and down Stairs till one or two in the Morning”.
In what might have been an insurance job, the drinking establishment burnt to the ground, taking some of the nearby properties with it, whilst the redoubtable Ms Calloway was some streets away, smoking her pipe and drinking good Sussex beer with some friends. It’s always good to have an alibi. Her stockroom and barrels were empty, and she had bought some bundles of kindling a little while before, but there was no conclusive evidence to convict her and the jury let her off. William Hogarth’s mother died “at her house in Cranbourn-Alley of a Fright, occasioned by the Fire”, despite being in rude health when the fire broke out, the only known death from the incident.
As well as reaching Cranbourn-Alley, the fire spread into St Martin’s Court, taking with it a further fifteen houses. The Daily Journal, on June 11, 1735, noted how the fire “continued with great Fury for the Space of two Hours before water could be got to supply the Engines”. The then Prince of Wales, Prince Frederick, got in on the act, directing engines and animating the firemen from a house in St Martin’s-Court.
Not ones to miss an opportunity, some of the Court’s residents went on a looting spree. Mistaking them for her own, or she claimed, “in the hurry and fright she was in”, Mary Steward removed a bed and three pictures from a burning house. Assisting her employer, or so she said, Eleanor Newby removed six curtains and five china dishes from his house – they were subsequently found in her lodgings. Both were acquitted but James Newby was not so lucky, sentenced to transportation to America for up to fourteen years. His crime? Stealing iron bars and an iron pin from a press.
London’s history is punctuated by fires but this one gained some notoriety and provided a fascinating insight into the lives of the residents of Cecil Court in the first half of the 18th century. I will return to the Court next time to talk about some of its more famous residents and explain why it became known, for a while, at least, as Flicker Alley.
April 5, 2020
Helmet Of The Week
Hats off to Indian police inspector, Rajeesh Babu who has raised awareness of the perils of the Coronavirus and the need for Indians to obey the lockdown restrictions by wandering around the Villivakam district of Chennai, wearing a Corona helmet.
Made from a broken motorcycle helmet and paper, it portrays the all now too familiar image of the virus that spreads the disease and was the brainchild of an artist called Gowtham. The police inspector volunteered to wear it to reinforce the message.
It certainly generated some publicity. Let’s hope it works.
April 4, 2020
Scientist Of The Week
Simple steps, we are told, to reduce our chances of being infected by the Covid-19 virus include frequent handwashing and avoiding touching our face. The latter is incredibly difficult to do, I find, a view that Dr Daniel Reardon, a research fellow and astrophysicist from a university in Melbourne, shared.
Unlike me, Reardon decided to do something about it and create a device that would sound an alarm when you touched your face. Consisting of a circuit in the form of a necklace that could detect the presence of a magnetic field and a magnet to be worn on the wrist, it went off when the magnet got too close.
Fine in theory but in practice Reardon found that he had invented an annoying necklace that buzzed continuously until you moved your hand to your face. Things are always topsy-turvy down under, we are told.
Project abandoned, with time on his hands, Reardon began playing around with the magnets, fitting one inside and one outside of each of his nostrils. His problems started when he removed the outer magnets and found, to his horror, that the two inside stuck together. Consulting Dr Google, Reardon found a case of a 11-year-old boy who had had a similar problem, resolved by the application of more magnets to the outside of the nose to counteract the magnetic field of the magnets up his nose.
This proved disastrous, more magnets ending up inside his nose. Getting increasingly desperate, Reardon resorted to pliers to try and extract them. All that happened was that the pliers became magnetised by the magnets in his nose.
The only thing to do was to go to the local hospital where a couple of doctors complete with anaesthetic spray removed the magnets. Even then there was some drama as one fell into his throat. However, Reardon was able to cough it out before it could cause more damage.
Like many of us, Reardon is now concentrating on doing jobs around the house. Quite what a mess he will get into is anyone’s guess.
April 3, 2020
What Is The Origin Of (276)?…
Vis- ā-vis
The old joke is that the French don’t have a word for entrepreneur. The French, in they were to be so churlish, could rightly point out that the English do not have a word or phrase to substitute for vis-ā-vis. When it is used it means in relation to.
When the phrase first appeared in English print in the middle of the 18th century, it had two distinct meanings, the one that we are familiar with today and one which was a literal translation of the French. Both senses can be attributed to the 4th Earl of Orford, better known as Horatio Walpole, a prolific letter writer, novelist, son of the first British prime minister, Sir Robert Walpole, and builder of Strawberry Hill House in Twickenham, a building which started the revival of the Gothic style of architecture.
In his Letter to George Montague, written in July 1753, Walpole wrote, “he was walking slowly in the beau milieu of Brentford town, without any company, but with a brown lap-dog with long ears, two pointers, two pages, three footmen, and a vis-à-vis following him”. It seemed a rather large entourage for a stroll, but that must have been the fashion for a man about town, even if it was Brentford. The vis-à-vis referred to was a type of carriage, a two-seater, in which the occupants faced each other.
This type of carriage is still made by the Amish communities and is often the preferred form for conveying tourists on horse-drawn sight-seeing trips in towns and cities. Barouche, landau and Berline carriages all had vis-ā-vis seating and some of the earliest motor cars followed suit until all passengers facing the same direction became the norm.
By extension the term was used as a preposition to describe any set of circumstances in which one person, or thing, was facing another, for example at a table or when dancing. Mary Berry, not that one, used it to denote the position of dancers in her Social Life in England and France: From the French Revolution in 1789, to that of July 1830, published in 1831; “it seems perfectly indifferent to them who is their via-ā- vis”.
It’s antonym, which gained currency in the 19th century, was dos-ā- dos, which meant having your back to your partner or the person in the same vehicle or duellers. A bastardisation of the term is used today in the world of square dancing, I have no personal experience of this, when the caller shouts out do-se-do or dosey doe. There are other variant spellings, but they all mean that you have to turn around and present your back to the other.
The more familiar meaning and use of the phrase also appeared in an epistle penned by the prolific letter-writer, Horatio Walpole, this time to Richard Bentley, written in November 1755. There he wrote, “what a figure would they make vis-ā-vis his manly vivacity and dashing eloquence”. It can be used as a noun, adjective or adverb and appears a bit flowery, affected and a tad pedantic when used, particularly in speech. It generally makes its appearance in newsprint and academic treatises.
Next time I jump into a taxi, though, I shall make sure I am sitting vis-ā-vis to my fellow passenger. I will know what I mean, even if they don’t!
April 2, 2020
Gin O’Clock – Part Ninety Six
If the ubiquity of their product is a hallmark of success in the world created by the ginaissance, then Whitley Neill must be doing rather well. Supermarket shelves, offies and bars and gin palaces are groaning with their extensive ranges of gins. I tried their original gin, featuring inter alia the fruit of the baobab tree and Cape gooseberries, and was impressed – see https://windowthroughtime.wordpress.com/2017/02/14/gin-oclock-part-twenty-three/
The world has moved on and as I have explored a wider range of gins, my preference has crystallised towards gins which are prominently juniper-led. I seem to be becoming more increasingly out of synch with the gin-consuming public, or at least what gin distillers imagine they want, because coloured and flavoured gins really don’t float my boat. However, as this blog is meant to reflect what is going on in the world of gin, then it would be remiss of me to shut my eyes to what is a significant and vibrant part of the market.
Rhubarb has been a go-to for distillers because it adds a contrast to the piney, peppery flavours imbued by juniper berries. Whitley Neill have gone one step further by adding ginger to the mix to create their Whitley Neill Rhubarb and Ginger Gin. They have certainly got the product presentation right. The bottle is a striking violet colour, quite what that has to do with either rhubarb or ginger, I’m not certain, and the labelling is in a discreet white band about a quarter of the way from the base of the bottle. There it tells me that the gin was “inspired by the glory of the English Country Garden. Essence of rhubarb adds a tart crisp edge whilst the real ginger warms the palate”. It also tells me that they have been distilling for eight generations, from 1762, so you would hope they would know what they are doing.
A couple of things about the labelling put me on alert, the contrast between essence of when describing the rhubarb component in contrast to the real used in relation to the ginger and the impression that the hooch is distilled by them when it is outsourced to Halewood Wines and Spirits in Liverpool. I will pass on my usual moans about the absence of any information about the other botanicals. I understand that the starting point is their original gin to which the rhubarb and ginger have been infused so, if that is the case, it is juniper, Cape gooseberries, baobab fruit, coriander, lemon peel, orange peel, angelica root, cassia bark and orris root.
Removing the artificial cork stopper from the rather dumpy bottle, the immediate hit on the nose is one of rhubarb and ginger, pretty much to the exclusion of anything else. In the glass the crystal-clear spirit is surprisingly sweet to the taste, unlike any other rhubarb gin I have tasted which have been somewhat on the tart side. The sugary sweetness, if you spill some it is very sticky, is probably testament to the use of an essence rather than the real McCoy. Once the spirit has settled down, the juniper attempts to make its presence known as do the citrus element before finishing off with a warming, peppery aftertaste.
It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, although it was a little too sweet for my taste and the essential components of a gin seemed somewhat left behind. It was another one of those gins, there are too many around in my opinion, that seems to be aimed at people who don’t like gin. Why spoil a perfectly good gin to make this concoction?
Until the next time, cheers!
April 1, 2020
Book Corner – April 2020 (1)
Some Must Watch – Ethel Lina White
This taut, psychological thriller, published in 1933, spawned a 1946 film, The Spiral Staircase, directed by Robert Siodmak. Some later editions of the book were also entitled The Spiral Staircase as they sought to cash in on the film’s success, but Lina White’s title, which comes from Hamlet, “for some must watch, while some must sleep: So runs the world away”, perfectly encapsulates this gothic-influenced tale.
Down on her luck, unemployed in the depression, a domestic servant, Helen Cadel, takes a post as a lady’s help in a remote house on the Herefordshire, Shropshire, Welsh borders. There are eight others in the house, including a bedridden, testy aunt of the head of the household, Professor Warren. Four young women have been murdered in the area and the location of the murders are getting nearer the house. When out walking at the start of the story Helen gets the sense she is being watched. Her sense of unease continues until she reaches the safety of the house.
The bedridden aunt, though, punctures Helen’s sense of security by hinting that she might be in danger. To add to the gothic atmosphere a gale is blowing outside making it difficult for the occupants to leave. And then there is the new nurse, given the seemingly impossible task of looking after the aunt. She is huge and cumbersome, prompting speculation amongst the household that she is really a man and not only that, but some kind of madman soon to wreak a trail of destruction. So prevalent is the speculation that the nurse frequently overhears it when she enters the room.
The nurse is well-conceived and adds a dash of humour to what might otherwise be an overwrought thriller. Indeed, part of Lina White’s genius is the quality of her characterisation, each of the characters are believable and have characteristics that make them slightly sinister, whilst it is easy to find Helen a sympathetic innocent stuck in the middle of something that is beyond her wit to comprehend. The other quality that stands out is Lina White’s mastery of narrative prose. The book zips along at pace, wringing out every drop from the atmosphere she has created and leaving the reader anxious to find out what happens next.
The action is confined to just a 24-hour period and for Helen, her sense of unease growing as she senses that there is really someone in the house to get her, it gets worse. For good reasons, members of Professor Warren’s entourage start leaving the house. Helen is there with just the aunt and the nurse, or so she thinks.
I won’t spoil the denouement but, suffice it to say, it is not a let-down.
There is a slight eugenic tone in the book. Helen is chided by the professor for wearing a cross. In her defence, she says, “The cross represents a Power which gave me life. But it gave me faculties to help me to look after that life for myself”. Someone, though, has decided that her life is not one worth living. The question is: Who? I will leave you to find out.
March 31, 2020
Service Of The Week (2)
You have got to hand it to the clergy, trying to grapple with social media to provide their flock with the spiritual guidance that they need.
Take Paolo Longo, the parish priest of the Church of San Pietro and San Benedetto di Polla in the Italian province of Salerno. He thought it would be a good idea to live stream a mass using Facebook and it was. Unfortunately, though, he left the platform’s AR filters active, resulting in him appearing with various animated accessories.
When Paolo realised that his enterprising efforts had gone viral, he saw the funny side, commenting “even a laugh is good”.
Take a look https://youtu.be/hZfAlqfT0a8
March 30, 2020
You’re Having A Laugh – Part Thirty Eight
The Olympic Flame hoax of 1956
It’s 2020 and the Olympics were supposed to be back, now put back a year, Japan having the dubious honour of draining their economy and building white elephants which deliver little in the way of a sport’s legacy. One of the highlights, for me the only one, is the torch relay, which takes a burning torch all the way from Olympus to the host city.
In 1956 it was Australia’s turn to host the event and the torch was making its way from Cairns to the host city, Melbourne, via Sydney. The procession was not without its drama. Runners suffered from the heat of the sun, torrential rains threatened to extinguish the flame, and the torch was dropped and broken in Lismore. On November 18, the mayor of Sydney, Pat Hills, was due to receive the flame from cross-country running champion, Harry Dillon, make a short speech and then pass it on to another runner, Bert Button.
A crowd of around 30,000 lined the streets to see the torch’s arrival, the press was out in force, photographers and cameramen at the ready. At 9.30am the runner, a young man bizarrely dressed in grey trousers with a white shirt and tie, made his appearance, holding the torch aloft. The police shepherded him towards the mayor and the athlete thrust the torch into the hands of Hills.
It was at that point that Hills realised something was amiss. His hands were sticky from paint that had come from the handle of the supposed torch. On closer inspection, he found that what he was holding was a chair leg with a tin attached to the top and a pair of underpants ablaze, doused in flammable material. By this time the runner had melted into the crowd. Regaining his composure, the mayor addressed the crowd with these words; “that was a trial run. Our friends from the university think things like this are funny. It was a hoax by somebody. I hope you are enjoying the joke”.
The mayor may have not been fazed by the prank, but the crowd turned ugly and surged forward. Women began screaming, fearing for the safety of their children and order was only restored when the police cleared a path down which Dillon ran at 9.40. Hills accepted the torch for a second time, made his prepared speech and passed it on to Button he went on his way.
The name of the prankster, Barry Larkin, a veterinary student at St. Johns College at Sydney University, was not made public until several years later but when he got back to the college, he was treated like a conquering hero. Even the college’s rector shook him by the hand and congratulated him. Larkin wasn’t supposed to be the bearer of blazing underwear. One of his co-conspirators, dressed in conventional athletic wear, panicked at the last minute and Larkin stepped into the breach. Hence the tie.
There was a serious message behind the prank, a protest against the origins of the original torch relay that was a feature of the 1936 games in Berlin. As to the ersatz torch, it was taken to a reception at the Town Hall and then found its way into the possession of one John Lawler, who had been following the procession by car. He kept it under his bed, as you do, until it got thrown out during a spring clean.
When Sydney hosted the games in 2000, the papers were full of accounts of Larkin’s shenanigans and although there were several attempts to disrupt that procession, enhanced security saw them come to naught.
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If you enjoyed this, why not try Fifty Scams and Hoaxes by Martin Fone.
https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/business/fifty-scams-and-hoaxes/
March 29, 2020
Record Of The Week
The Coronavirus pandemic is forcing all of us to modify our behaviours and put on hold most of our plans and ambitions. It is particularly galling for those training for a special event or aiming to set a particular record.
Spare a thought for Jeff Reitz who had visited the Disney California Adventure Park in Anaheim for 2,995 consecutive days until its enforced closure on March 13th. He had been attempting a Guinness World Record for the most consecutive visits.
Reitz was phlegmatic, saying, “on the negative side, I didn’t get to choose the end. But on the positive side, I didn’t have to choose the end”.
He plans to resume his visits when it reopens but, in the meantime, think of the money he will save.
March 28, 2020
Service Of The Week
I had always considered some elements of social media as a solution looking for a problem. The Coronavirus pandemic may be just that problem. It is prompting many reluctant silver surfers to embrace the technology in order to communicate with the outside world and to stay sane.
There are bound to be some teething problems as the 61-year-old vicar of St Budeaux Parish Church in Plymouth, Simon Beach, experienced when he decided to record his first virtual service via YouTube. Warming to the wisdom and beauty of his sermon, he leant forward and exclaimed “Oh dear, I’ve just caught fire”.
Being on fire for Jesus his sleeve had brushed against the flame of a candle, burning a hole in his pullover and sleeve, but not his skin.
Better luck next time. Practice makes perfect.
