FRIDAY 27TH MARCH

If you live to be one hundred, you've got it made. Very few people die past that age. (George Burns)

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I took this photo when we were in Geneva a few years ago. The height of the Jet d’Eau fountain is 140m, and the water is forced up at the rate of 500 litres every second.

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Last week I told you about Lesley’s dog Cody and his letter to a TV magazine.

But Cody is not the only clever pet in our family. Chocky who is Fiona’s dog was disappointed a few years ago with doggie Christmas crackers, and this is the e-mail she sent to the supplier Hawkin’s Bazaar :-

Hi,

My name is Chocky and I’m a 10 year old border collie. Mum got me and my 2 pals some doggie Christmas crackers from Hawkins this year. We were really excited because we’ve never had those before. Our mums helped us to open them, and we were really pleased with the silent bangs, because we sometimes get frightened with the human crackers they have at Christmas.

My friend Cody (a basenji) really liked the whistle he got in the cracker. I got a hat that said Boss and my friend Basil (a bearded collie) got a lovely bowtie.

The only thing wrong was NONE of us got a corny doggie joke, and my mum told us we would get one. We looked for ages in case Cody had swallowed them, but Basil didn’t open his cracker till the next day and he definitely didn’t get one.

My mum wanted to write to you and ask for her money back - she said it was a swiz (is that some kind of sweetie?), but all we want is to hear some good doggie jokes.

Can you send us some?

Love,

Chocky

There was a very apologetic reply from someone called Pops, and when replacement crackers arrived Chocky sent an e-mail of thanks.

This is my favourite photo of Chocky.



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MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE ELECTRONIC ORGAN (Part 1)

I had been playing piano in a 4-piece band when the leader bought a portable organ. That was the first time I had played an electronic organ and with my pipe organ training I soon felt at home with the instrument. The line-up of 2 trumpets, organ and drums was unusual but successful, for it lent itself to the style of music made popular by Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass.

The trumpet players were brothers. Jimmy had played for a number of years in the pit of the Glasgow Empire. David the younger one had been quite a child prodigy in his brother’s band, and had recently come back from London where he had worked for many years with the big bands. Now he was with Brian Fahey and the BBC Scottish Radio Orchestra.

There are lots of stories about David. Both he and Jimmy stood while playing, with their drinks on the floor at their feet. Of course accidents frequently occurred and sometimes the stage was awash with beer. One night between numbers David was heard saying to his brother, “Let’s change places now. I’ll play in the deep end.”

When David moved from London he brought his English wife and young family with him. However, some years later, when he was playing a lot in Glasgow, he came home from a job and found his house literally empty - his wife, children and furniture gone! She apparently had had enough and had gone back to London.

At that time Jimmy was the conductor of the Kirkintilloch Players Club Orchestra, later to become the Kirkintilloch Variety Orchestra, and our daughters Margaret (viola) and Fiona (clarinet), and myself (piano) were members.

One occasion stands out from those dance band days. The Musicians Union held a charity dance when all the local bands took part. David had invited some of his pals from the BBC Orchestra, and I felt very honoured to join them on piano in a jam session.

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Here’s a reminder of the Tijuana Brass style - “Mexican Shuffle”. If the music doesn’t appeal to you, perhaps the pictures will.



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WHEN I WAS SMALL fashions were very different. Few women smoked cigarettes and those who did would probably belong to the younger set. Women didn’t go into pubs and for most of them the New Year would be the only time they had an alcoholic drink. It’s true that there were pubs in Glasgow which had a small bar marked “Ladies Only”. Older women all wore long black dresses which stretched down to their feet, and, when outside, always wore a hat.

Of course it was unusual to see a man outside with his head uncovered. There were all kinds of hats, but for the average working man the cap or bunnet was favoured. A popular accessory for some were spats worn round the ankles, and they would be kept for special occasions. For golfers plus fours seemed to be a necessity.



There had been a fashion for men to carry a walking stick or cane. This had been popular even among young men, but I remember it was men of my father’s age and older who would have a walking stick. And some women had them as well.

In those far-off days Sunday afternoon was a popular time for taking a walk. Most families I knew would have been to church in the morning, and, providing the weather was fine, would be out for a walk in the afternoon. There were a number of favourite walks, and many people would combine the outing with a visit to relatives. I must mention that a great number of folk went faithfully every Sunday afternoon to the cemetery.

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This is a little poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said "I've a pretty rose tree,"
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

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This is a very striking work “The Icebergs” by the American landscape painter Frederick Edwin Church (1826-1900)



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Finally, here are two crazy musicians - Aleksey Igudesman and Sebastian Gurtier with the Upper Austrian Youth Orchestra. Just a bit of nonsense, but the music is well played.



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FRIDAY 20TH MARCH

People go through two basic stages of life - young trying to be older and older trying to be young. (Daniel Neal)

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HOW I BECAME INVOLVED WITH A MERRY WIDOW - and how I acquired a title.

A few years ago Jean and I had a holiday at Evian on Lake Geneva. We were staying in a big Centre which attracted a lot of young people of different nationalities. One day I was approached by a German woman who explained in broken English that she and her friends had been listening to me playing the piano. Apparently they were musicians and they wondered if I would like to play with them. Of course I readily agreed and we fixed a time for our get-together.

The three of them would be in their 50s, she played violin and the two men cello and clarinet. Language was quite a problem, but we got on well together, and the music which was the grand hotel type sounded fine. I discovered that her late husband had been a professional violinist, and every year they had holidayed at Evian, along with the other musicians.

Frau Hamza (I can’t recall her Christian name) was a “touchy feely” person and a bit eccentric. She kept saying “thank you, sir” and “excuse me, sir” to me and of course I told her that she was to call me John. So, for the rest of the week I was “Sir John”!!!

One morning she and I were practicing together, making up a programme which the group would perform on the final evening of the holiday. When we had finished, she said to me “Kom to my house,” - she meant her room - “I vant to give you cuddle.” Wow!!! That WAS a shock! I don’t think I said anything for a moment, and then the penny dropped. She had used the French word “cadeau”, she had a gift for me! It was a CD by her late husband’s group The Georg Hamza Ensemble (2 violins, cello, bass, clarinet, piano and drums), and included 3 of his own compositions.

So I didn’t get a cuddle, but at least I was “Sir John” for a few days!



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The “Total TV Guide” magazine publishes letters from viewers, and the following, which appeared in the 14-20 March issue, was the Prize Letter of the week -

“Being a dog, I don’t watch much TV. However, I loved Five’s Mr and Mrs Wolf. I’m a basenji, a breed dating back to 3,000 BC, and I really respect my wolf ancestors. I also admire Shaun and Helen for their courage in getting up close and personal with those wonderful beasts. I’m not able to bark, but I was able to howl along with them. I hope we get an update soon.”

The sender was Kindu Kodi (plain Cody to the rest of the pack), Macduff, Aberdeenshire, and the Editor had added “Cody’s owner Lesley Farrell has asked for the £50 prize to go to BARK, a charity that re-homes dogs.”

Yes, Lesley is our youngest daughter and this photo of Cody I took last year.



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I’ve been remembering again my childhood in the tenement, and thinking how fortunate we were.

The houses were in good condition and kept in order, and all the neighbours got on well together. Behind the building there was the back court, then the wash houses, and behind them a big washing green. Bordering that area were the 12 garden plots.

Some time ago I wrote 2 haiku about living in the tenement -

childhood memory -
waking to the sounds and smells
of gaslit breakfasts

imagining ghosts -
we run past the coats hanging
in the unlit hall

I also wrote 2 haiku about being in church. It’s quite astonishing to recall that, from our seats in a side gallery, Rita and I couldn’t see the minister! Can you imagine children sitting for an hour and a quarter staring at the people in the opposite gallery? It was the custom in our church for the choir to sing an Introit at the start of the service, and when I was very small I couldn’t see where the music was coming from, and decided it was the angels singing!!!

a weekly routine -
in church the sermon begins
Dad gives me a sweet

the sermon ended -
a low whisper from Dad
“we won’t be long now”

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The rest of this week’s EIGHTY PLUS has quite an international flavour - a painting, a poem and a piece of music. I like them all very much, particularly the little poem.

This silk painting “Tinh Yeu”, by the contemporary Vietnamese artist Phan Quoc Hung, refers to the story of two young lovers who had to flee because their families wouldn’t allow them to see each other. Since their lives were being threatened, a kindly magician came to the rescue by turning them into two beautiful swans. So they were saved, living as swans during daytime and as humans during nighttime.



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The following was written by the Chinese poet Li Bai (701-762)

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.

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Finally, the music clip - “Korobiniki” by Alexander Zigankow is played by the Russian domra player Natalia Anchutina, with the German pianist Lothar Freund.



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Before finishing I must report that during the week ending Sunday 15th March my Wise Men Say blog had a record 139 hits!!!

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FRIDAY 13TH MARCH

The trick is to grow up without growing old (Frank Lloyd Wright)

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MY FIRST JOB

After demob from the RAF I had no idea what I wanted to do, but a director of a local iron foundry lived nearby, and it was through him that I got a clerical job in their general office.

There were two iron foundries in the town at that time. Both were very busy, their products being sent all over the world. My job was to assist in calculating bonuses, and in preparing and paying out wages.

I worked with two older men. One of them was always very smartly dressed, looking just like a salesman in a gents’ outfitters. Then I found out that he had a Saturday afternoon job in a big Glasgow store. The other one had a glass eye, and he would cause new office girls to have hysterics, by taking his eye out and laying it on the desk.

There were two directors. The one I knew was very pleasant and easy to get on with. The other was a bit of a terror and his main purpose seemed to be to try to catch any one smoking. Most of the men obeyed the no smoking rule, but the elderly cashier certainly didn’t. His desk was in a corner of the room surrounded by a partition about 7 or 8 feet in height, and for much of the day smoke could be seen floating above. The opening of the door of the directors’ room could be clearly heard from the general office, and a smoker had about 10 seconds in which to conceal any evidence. This was usually successful, but on one occasion the cashier failed to stub out his cigarette properly, and his waste paper bucket went on fire!!!


This director had a particular dislike of the switchboard which was located in another corner of our room. Sometimes, if the operator was away from her desk, there would be a lot of buzzing from the machine. If he was passing he would rush to it, and manipulate every switch he could find. When the buzzing stopped, he would walk away satisfied.

There was a third director who had retired, but he still got his pay packet every week. Since I passed his home every day, I was given the task of delivering his envelope each Friday. (Yes, salaries were weekly, and even he was paid in cash.) One Monday morning I was called into the Secretary’s room and was told that this director had just phoned to complain that he didn’t get his money on Friday. Consternation!!! I put my hand into my jacket pocket and produced the envelope. I had forgotten to deliver it!!! I apologised profusely, and that was the end of the matter.

While I was there, the company built baths for the workers, and this was considered a very progressive move. There was an opening ceremony (no, the directors weren’t the first people to use the facilities), and a special tea was held in a nearby hall, during which I played background music on the piano.

I worked in that office for two years. During that time, I reluctantly decided that a full-time job in music was not feasible. However, I had become quite interested in the work a friend of mine was doing in a community centre, and so I made a move. But more of that another time.

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FROM MY PHOTO ALBUM





My mother and father were both employed by the local Co-operative Society in grocery shops. Her first job was in the office, but in 1914, when so many of the male staff joined the army, she was transferred to one of the shops. They married in 1924 and she became a full-time housewife.

My father was put in charge of a shop, and later became the manager of the branch that was responsible for supplying the other local Co-op groceries with their produce.

I must mention here that during World War II his job was not an easy one. All the hundreds and hundreds of food coupons that were collected had to be sorted, documented and sent to head office. There was no time to do this during working hours, and the job had to be done at home with the help of my mother. There was no pay for her and no overtime for him.

Of course anyone working in a food shop during the war had the advantage of being on the spot when scarce commodities came in. And throughout his working life my father would often receive gifts from reps who were anxious to get good orders from him.

My father died aged 89 in 1982, and my mother in 1987 aged 90.

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"The Helping Hand" by the French artist Emile Renouf (1845-1894). Perhaps a bit "twee", but I like the expressions on the faces.



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Two weeks ago I said that I preferred short poems. However, the poem I have today has 12 stanzas. Please take time to read it. It’s great!!!

MARY’S GHOST by Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

‘Twas in the middle of the night,
To sleep young William tried;
When Mary’s ghost came stealing in,
And stood at his bedside.

O William dear! O William dear!
My rest eternal ceases;
Alas! My everlasting peace
Is broken into pieces.

I thought the last of all my cares
Would end with my last minute;
But tho’ I went to my long home,
I didn’t stay long in it.

The body-snatchers they have come,
And made a snatch at me;
It’s very hard them kind of men
Won’t let a body be!

You thought that I was buried deep,
Quite decent like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone,
They’ve come and boned your Mary.

The arm that used to take your arm
Is took to Dr. Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
The hospital at Guy’s.

I vowed that you should have my hand,
But fate gives us denial;
You’ll find it there, at Dr. Bell’s,
In spirits and a phial.

As for me feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There’s one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The t’other’s in the City.

I can’t tell where my head is gone,
But Dr. Carpue can;
As for my trunk, it’s all packed up
To go by Pickford’s van.

I wish you’d go to Mr. P.
And save me such a ride;
I don’t half like the outside place,
They’ve took for my inside.

The cock it crows - I must be gone!
My William we must part!
But I’ll be yours in death, altho’
Sir Astley has my heart.

Don’t go to weep upon my grave,
And think that there I be;
They haven’t left an atom there
Of my anatomie.

[The reference to Pickford’s van seemed to me an anachronism, till I discovered that they were in business as carriers from the end of the 17th century onwards]

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Here’s something from the 1960s - the Seekers singing “The Carnival is Over” at what was supposed to be their farewell concert in 1968. In fact they reformed in 1993 and worked on and off till 2004 when they really did retire. Judith Durham is now singing as a solo artist (and I still fancy her!)



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FRIDAY 6TH MARCH

Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough. (Groucho Marx)

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IN MY YOUNG DAYS I didn’t know anyone who had a phone in their house, and so, if you needed to contact someone, you had to pay them a visit. The result was that there was a great deal of coming and going between friends and relations.

When Jean and I married, the house we moved into had a phone which was on a “party line,” meaning that it was shared with another subscriber. Phone numbers all began with three letters (the first three letters of the relevant telephone exchange) followed by the number. An example for someone living in Kirkintilloch would be KIR 1278.

Of course when phones were first introduced, you had to tell the operator what number you wanted, and she would put you through.

In 1923 the GPO thought it necessary to supply subscribers with instructions on how to use this new gadget, and here they are -

TO PASS AND RECEIVE A TELEPHONE CALL

Before passing a call to the exchange the subscriber should wait until he hears the telephonist’s “Number, please?” and then, speaking clearly and distinctly, with the lips almost touching the mouthpiece, he should state the number required - first the name of the exchange, then the number required.

Greater care is necessary in speaking by telephone than is required in ordinary speech. “Three” should be pronounced as “thr-r-ee” with slight rolling “r”, “five” as “fife” emphasising the consonants “f”.

On taking off the receiver, the subscriber should not say “Hullo” or “Who’s there?” but should announce his name. A householder would say “Mr Thomas Brown speaking”, the maidservant would say ”Mr Brown’s house”, Mr Brown at his office would say “Brown and Co., Mr Thomas Brown speaking”, and his clerk would say “Brown and Co.”

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“Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion,
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water everywhere
And all the boards did shrink,
Water, water everywhere
Nor any drop to drink”

These words of course are from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Coleridge, a poem I first came across in school. I found it quite thrilling then, (especially the part where the dead sailors all rise up and guide the ship safely home) and I always enjoy reading it again.

I recently came across this drawing which describes the above stanzas. The artist was Gustav Dore (1832-1883) a prolific literary illustrator. A great deal of his work can be seen on the internet, and there are 38 pictures illustrating the poem at http://dore.artpassions.net/



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On my EIGHTY PLUS blog posted on October 3rd, I showed a photograph of the Brize Rhythm group, the RAF sextet in which I was the pianist. The trumpet player was Spencer Dunmore who later became a writer of novels based in the world of flying. He emigrated to Canada in 1954.

Apart from his many novels which include “Final Approach”, “Collision”, “Bomb Run“ and “Tower of Strength,” and also a short story collection “Squadron,” I see that Spencer has collaborated with other writers in producing a number of non-fiction books, dealing with military history.

I find it difficult to believe that sixty years have passed since we were playing at dances and concerts. I wonder if he remembers the day he took me to his London home (I think in Muswell Hill) where I saw television for the first time!!!

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The Mitchell and Kenyon film company was a pioneer of commercial movies in the UK.
This is a short clip of Jamaica Street, Glasgow in 1901. What astonishes me is how busy the street was, the number of horses and the speed of the traffic. (Just a thought - my father and mother would be aged 7 and 4 then. His parents would be in their 30s, my mother’s in their 20s.)



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I like poems that are short, and I found two this week. They’re both excellent. Here’s the first one -

I MEANT TO DO MY WORK TODAY by Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947)

I meant to do my work today -
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.

And the wind went sighing over the land
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand -
So what could I do but laugh and go?

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The music I’ve chosen this week is the Finale of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C, played by the young Korean musician Han Na Chang with the Berlin Philharmonic Sinfonietta. (There seems to be some doubt how her first name is spelled - sometimes it appears as it is here, sometimes with a hyphen and sometimes as one word.) Her manner on stage is very unusual. She seems to be sharing a joke with the lead violins.



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I'm finishing this week's blog with the other poem -

HAPPY THE MAN by John Dryden (1631-1700)

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call the day his own;
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today,
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine,
Nor Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

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