So we really had a White Christmas - the first one for a good few years!

In some areas temperatures dipped to minus 15 degrees. The main roads have been kept clear, but snow is still lying frozen on the pavements in our village, and walking on them is difficult. I took those photographs a few days ago from our back garden, using the close-up lens for the first one.

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Last year I included this poem in my Christmas blog. I’ve discovered that there are quite a few versions of “’Twas the day after Christmas,” but I think this is the best one, so here it is again -

‘Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste.
All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvellous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."

So, away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip,
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore,
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

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The painting I’ve chosen this week is “Thames Frost Fair” by Thomas Wyke

Between the 15th and the 19th centuries it was a common occurrence for the Thames in London to freeze over. In 1683-84 it lasted two months and I believe that’s when the painting was done.

John Evelyn the writer/diarist wrote this description -

Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other stairs, to and fro, as in the streets - sleds, sliding with skeetes, a bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cooks, tipling and other lewd places, so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water.
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LOOKING FORWARD TO BLOGGING IN 2010

I’ve been surprised at the interest shown in “Wise Men Say….” I began this blog in February 2006 and one week recently the site had 218 “hits.” From 18th July to 11th December there were 1776 visitors from 75 different countries including a fair number from very unlikely places.

I’ve very much enjoyed preparing these blogs. “80 plus” is gradually changing, for I’m afraid I’ve run out of boyhood memories. “John’s Quiet Corner” is my favourite, but I realise that both that site and “Haiku Homestead” don’t have the same general appeal.

“Wise Men Say….” will continue daily.
“80 plus”, “John’s Quiet Corner” and “Haiku Homestead” will be updated every Wednesday.
I’m hoping that it will be possible to run a second short series of “Scottish Tales from the Other World.”

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For many years a great feature of Hogmanay in Scotland was the TV show “Scotch and Wry” with Rikkie Fulton as Rev I. M. Jolly. This clip is from the 1978 programme.


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The New Year lies before you
Like a spotless tract of snow
Be careful how you tread on it
For every mark will show. (Anon)
 
WISHING EVERYONE A HAPPY NEW YEAR

Last week I got a surprise to see that our village Community Council had erected a Christmas tree not far from our house.

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This is Burl Ives singing “Santa Claus is comin’ to town”


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As I sat in my window last evening,
The letterman brought in to me
A little gilt-edged invitation sayin':
"Gilhooley, come over to tea."
I knew that the Fogarties sent it.
So I went, just for old friendship's sake.
The first thing they gave me to tackle
Was a slice of Miss Fogarty's cake.

There were plums and prunes and cherries.
There were citrons and raisins and cinnamon, too
There was nutmeg, cloves and berries,
And a crust that was nailed on with glue.
There were caraway seeds in abundance,
Such that work up a fine stomach ache
That could kill a man twice after eating a slice
Of Miss Fogarty's Christmas cake.

Miss Mulligan wanted to try it.
But, really, it wasn't no use,
For we worked in it over an hour,
And we couldn't get none of it loose
Till Murphy came in with a hatchet
And Kelly came in with a saw.
That cake was enough, by the powers above,
For to paralyze any man's jaw.

Miss Fogarty, proud as a peacock,
Kept smiling and blinking away
Till she flipped over Flanagan's brogans.
And she spilt the home brew in her tea.
"Aye, Gilhooley," she says "you're not eatin'.
Try a little bit more, for me sake."
And "No, Miss Fogarty," says I,
"For I've had quite enough of your cake."

Maloney was took with the colic.
O'Donald, a pain in his head.
McNaughton lay down on the sofa,
And he swore that he wished he was dead.
Miss Bailey went into hysterics,
And there she did wriggle and shake.
And everyone swore they were poisoned
Just from eating Miss Fogarty's cake. (Anon)

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Somehow, not only for Christmas,
But all the long year through,
The joy that you give to others
Is the joy that comes back to you.

And the more you spend in blessing
The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart's possessing
Returns to you glad. (John Greenleaf Whittier)

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Something different now.  The words are shown below.



Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain
That Jesus is born

Down in the lowly manger
The humble Christ was born
And God sent us salvation
That blessed Christmas morn

Go, tell it etc.

While shepherds kept their watch
On silent flocks by night
Behold, throughout the heavens
There shone a holy light

Go, tell it etc.

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Sing hey! Sing hey!
For Christmas Day;
Twine mistletoe and holly.
For a friendship glows
In winter snows,
So let us all be jolly! (Anon)

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WISHING EVERYONE A HAPPY CHRISTMAS

This is an 18th century nativity painting. The artist is not known.

The oldest Christmas carol we have is usually said to be the 12th century Veni Emmanuel - O come, O come, Emmanuel. However, it has been pointed out that this is actually an Advent carol, and that the oldest English one is Susanni (this word from the old German means “sing to sleep”) in a 14th century manuscript.

Here are the words -

A little child there is y-born,
Eia, eia susanni, susanni, susanni,
And he sprang out of Jesse’s thorn,
To save us all that were forlorn.
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

Now Jesus is the childès name,
Eia, eia susanni, susanni, susanni,
And Mary mild she is his dame,
And so our sorrow has turned to game.
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

It fell upon the high midnight,
Eia, eia susanni, susanni, susanni,
The stars they shone both fair and bright,
The angels sang with all their might,
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

Three kings came with their prèsents,
Eia, eia susanni, susanni, susanni,
Of myrrh and gold and frankincense,
As clerkès sing in their sequence,
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

Now sit we down upon our knee,
Eia, eia susanni, susanni, susanni,
And pray we to the Trinity
Our help and succour for to be,
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

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When I was a boy, Christmas Day was just like any other day. We were on holiday from school certainly, but people in offices, factories and shops were working as usual. Hogmanay and the New Year were more important, and it would have been difficult to find a shop open on New Year’s Day.

I believe there was midnight mass in Roman Catholic churches on Christmas Eve, but the other churches didn’t have services, either then or on Christmas Day.

Each year we children went to the Sunday School party where we played games and received a gift from Santa Claus. I remember there was always a big Christmas tree, beautifully decorated, and I’m pretty sure that very few people in those days would have a tree in their homes.

Like most folk, our living room had coloured paper decorations round the walls and extending across the ceiling. This transformed our home into something really exciting, and from then on, Rita and I would be shouting our requests up the chimney. I must add that I was most annoyed when I discovered that Santa wouldn’t hear us, indeed that there was no such person! Shame!

Our parents usually took us to Glasgow to see Santa Claus in a big store. On one occasion we were passing through a number of corridors lined with toys and novelties, when we came to a huge teddy bear, taller than an adult. As we passed it, my father took hold of its paw, and said “How d’you do?” and it’s head fell off and rolled along the floor!!!

It wasn’t till the late 1940s that Scotland began to make more of Christmas. Perhaps the change was brought about by our servicemen and women coming back to civvy street, having experienced Christmas church services elsewhere. That was certainly the case in our own church when the Service of Nine Carols and Lessons was introduced. I think it would sometime later that services on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were begun.

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This is a 16th century carol “Gaudete“ sung by the Mediaeval Baebes


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I came across this poem last week. It was new to me, and I think it’s probably American.

I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas,
Mommy and Daddy are mad.
I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas,
'Cause I ain't been nuttin' but bad.

Broke my bat on Johnny's head,
Somebody snitched on me.
I hid a frog in sister's bed,
Somebody snitched on me.
I spilled some ink on Mommy's rug,
I made Tommy eat a bug,
Bought some gum with a penny slug,
Somebody snitched on me.
I won't be seeing Santa Claus,
Somebody snitched on me.
He won't come visit me because
Somebody snitched on me.
Next year I'll be going straight,
Next year I'll be good, just wait,
I'd start now, but it's too late.
Somebody snitched on me.
So you better be good whatever you do,
'Cause if you're bad, I'm warning you,
You'll get nuttin' for Christmas.

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I found this little video amusing. Please stick with it to the end.



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This photograph of our tree I took either last year or the year before. We’ve had it for 26 years and each Christmas I’m outvoted when I suggest dispensing with it. And so any time now, my job will be to bring it down from the attic and try to get in the way as little as possible while Jean puts it together and does the decorating and lights.

We also have a small fibre-optic tree, plus another small one which belonged to my parents and must be about 40 years old!







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When I was a young boy, I looked forward every week to the day my comic The Rainbow arrived, and it was a special treat if the Annual was among my Christmas presents. I remember the comic had a picture story which ran for years about a boy and his father who lived in a submarine and had adventures all over the world. The front page featured Tiger Tim and his friends, and here are a few of them.

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 This poem is in broad Scots, but I’m hoping the general meaning will be clear to everyone. The writer was Sir Alexander Gray (1882-1968), a Scottish civil servant.

Twas a cauld, cauld nicht i' the back o' the year;
The snaw lay deep, and the stars shone clear;
And Mary kent that her time was near,
As she cam’ to Bethlehem.

When Joseph saw the toon sae thrang,
Quo' he: “I houp I be na wrang,
But I'm thinkin' we'll find a place ere lang,”
But there wasna nae room for them.

She quo', quo' she: “O Joseph loon,
Rale tired am I, and wad fain lie doon.
Is there no a bed in the hail o' the toon?
For farrer I canna gae.”

At the ale-hoose door she keekit ben,
But there was sic a steer o' fremmyt men,
She thocht till hirsel': “I dinna ken
What me and my man can dae.”

And syne she spak: “We'll hae to lie
I' the byre this nicht amang the kye
And the cattle beas', for a body maun try
To thole what needs maun be.”

And there amang the strae and the corn,
While the owsen mooed, her bairnie was born.
O, wasna that a maist joyous morn
For sinners like you and me?

For the bairn that was born that nicht i' the sta'
Cam doon frae Heaven to tak awa'
Oor fecklessness, and bring us a'
Safe hame in the hender-en'.

Lord, at this Yule-tide send us licht,
Hae mercy on us and herd us richt.
For the sake o' the bairnie born that nicht,
O, mak’ us better men! 

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 The following verse, part of one of Alexander Gray’s poems, can be seen on the Canongate wall at the Scottish Parliament.

This is my country,
The land that begat me.
These windy spaces
Are surely my own.
And those who toil here
In the sweat of their faces
Are flesh of my flesh,
And bone of my bone.

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This video is “Christmas Pipes” featuring Celtic Woman at the Helix Centre in Dublin. They are Chloe Agnew, Lisa Kelly, Orla Fallon, Meav Ni Mhaolchatha,  and Mairead Nesbitt the violinist.



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Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to
the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the
old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport
the traveller back to his own fireside and quiet home!
(Charles Dickens)

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This is Lochnagar in the Grampian mountains.

I first came across the Scottish song “Dark Lochnagar” when I was playing organ in a local club. Quite a number of the cabaret artistes had it in their repertoire, and it often cropped up during the sessions when members of the audience had the opportunity to entertain.

Many folk don’t know that the words were written by an Englishman. The poet Lord Byron 1788-1824 spent part of his early life in that area, and his love of Lochnagar inspired him to produce those verses -

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits the elements war,
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.

Ah! There my young footsteps in infancy wandered,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid.
On chieftains long perished my memory pondered
As daily I strode thro' the pine covered glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star.
For fancy was cheered by traditional story,
Disclosed by the natives of dark Lochnagar!

Years have rolled on, Lochnagar, since I left you!
Years must elapse ere I tread you again.
Though nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed over mountains afar
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES - This is “J’attendrai” sung by Tino Rossi in 1938. Born in Corsica, he made hundreds of records and appeared in more than 25 films. The translation of the song is shown below.


I will wait day and night, I will wait forever for your return,
I will wait, for the bird which flies away will one day search for the one left behind in the nest.
The time hurries by echoing sadly in my heavy heart.
And still I"ll await your return.

The flowers fade, the fire dies. A shadow glides over the garden.
The clock makes its slow, slow sounds, I think I hear your footsteps.
The wind brings me faraway sounds
Standing at my door, I listen in vain.
Alas, nothing, nothing at all, comes for me.

I will wait, etc.

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During my time as a club musician, I met some very talented amateurs. It was rare for singers to have their music with them, and I had to follow them as best I could. Since they usually didn’t know in which key their song was set, I would ask them to start on their own, and after a couple of bars I was able to join in with a suitable accompaniment.

I must mention that my knowledge of “pop” goes no further forward than 1960, and at times I was probably the only person in the club who didn’t know the number being sung. Fortunately the drummer knew his stuff, and was a big help to me.

Of course all the professional artistes had band scores, most of them very well written, and playing them was a challenge I really enjoyed.

For a while I played occasionally for cabaret at a golf club, and it was there I met one of their members - a very amusing amateur comedian. He reminded me of the American George Burns, and the audience loved his casual, relaxed style. I was so keen on his act, that I arranged for him to appear in the club where I was resident. And I was completely shocked! He was a flop! The poor man, away from his usual group of friends, had a real struggle to raise a laugh.

That was the last time I ever recommended an entertainer.

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  This British Film Institute clip shows London street scenes in 1903. It would be interesting to know how many horses there were in London streets at that time. And if there were many accidents. It looked as if it would be quite dangerous for a pedestrian to cross the road, and it seemed that many were taking quite a chance hurrying in front of those horses.


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A haiku -

at the foot clinic
embarrassment
an odd pair of socks

More today at HAIKU HOMESTEAD
http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

This Friday on SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD
“True Thomas and the Elfin Queen”
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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This is a photograph of me at the age of 11. We all had our photographs taken at school to commemorate the 1937 Coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth.




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Next month sees the 130th anniversary of the Tay Bridge Disaster. On 28th December that year the bridge collapsed when a passenger train was crossing and 75 lives were lost. Recently I came across that famous epic by William McGonagall and here it is -

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.
So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

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I was delighted to find this short video of Roger McGough reading one of his poems, “A Fine Romance.”  Older folk will remember that in the 1960s  he was a member of the Scaffold, the comedy group who had a No 1 hit in 1968 with “Lily the Pink.” Since then he has become well-known as a very talented performance poet.

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RE-THINKING HAIKU

When composing haiku I have always tried to obey the instruction that the poem should have 17 syllables, distributed 5-7-5 over the 3 lines. And I must add that I have been following what many others do.

The basis for the rule lay in the belief that this was the pattern in Japan where haiku originated. I now find out that the Japanese writers don’t count syllables, they count sound units, which is a very different thing.

The problem is not an easy one for us to understand, but perhaps this will help. In the West the word “Haiku” has 2 syllables “high-ku”, but in Japan it has 3 sound units “ha-ee-ku.” So you see, we are talking about different things.

This has completely changed my approach to writing haiku, and my simple definition now would be - a short poem of 3 lines, where the middle line is slightly longer, and in which the writer tries to convey in as few words as possible a moment in time. Some aspect of nature is usually involved.

With this new concept in mind, I am opening the HAIKU HOMESTEAD blog again, beginning on Wednesday 2nd December -
http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

And here’s a haiku to keep you going till next week -

on the washing line
a pair of frozen trousers
at attention

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES.  I’m sure younger folk will think this is awful, but people my age will love to hear it once again - “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic” played by Henry Hall and his Orchestra.


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SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD this Friday - “The Story of Norrie’s Law”
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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This photo taken around 1940 shows my grandfather John Armour Jaap, in the dress of the Ancient Order of Shepherds. I know he was a member of that benevolent society, though I don’t think he held any office. Perhaps he got dressed up like that, just for a bit of fun.

Born in 1868 in Kilmarnock, he was married to Charlotte Graham in 1891 in Kirkintilloch, where he had found work in the local coal mine. Later he became an engine driver, driving the “pug” which carried the coal wagons to nearby foundries and to the canal depot.

I remember, when I was a boy, my father telling me in all seriousness that Grandpa had once seen a fairy down the mine. I had no reason to doubt the story then, but I’m surprised that, when I was older, I didn’t ask my grandfather about it.

Since beginning my new blog SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD, I’ve been doing some reading about the supernatural and have been interested to find how many well-known people were believers in the Wee Folk.

Towards the end of the 19th century W. B. Yeats and Lady Augusta Gregory began collecting fairy stories, and became convinced that the existence of fairies was a reality.

Another believer was G. K. Chesterton who wrote “It is a fact that it is not abnormal men like artists, but normal men like peasants, who have borne witness a thousand times to such things. It is the farmers who see the fairies. It is the farm labourer who calls a spade a spade who also calls a spirit a spirit. It is the woodcutter with no axe to grind who will say that he saw a man hang on the gallows and afterwards hang round it as a ghost.”

This week‘s Scottish Tale from the Other World is “The Fisherman and the Fairy Cap” and will be posted on Friday.
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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This clip was filmed in the Café de Paris, London in 1929. I wonder how many of you know can name the tune which accompanies the two dancers?



The tune is “You’re the Cream in my Coffee.”

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You may think I’m easily pleased, but I was thrilled when I re-discovered this famous monologue. Written and performed by J. Milton Hayes (1884-1940), this is the original version.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as "Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell,
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all,
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew;
They met next day as he dismissed a squad,
And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do
But the green eye of the little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,
And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars,
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,
And a gash across his temple dripping red,
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through,
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod,
He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew,"
And she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet,
But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone
With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
She thought of him and hurried to his room,
As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air
Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.

His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through,
The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod,
An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,
'Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES - This week I’ve chosen “I know where I’m going” sung by Maureen Hegarty with Elizabeth Bicker at the piano.



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HAIKU HOMESTEAD

About children -

we stop at the bridge 
the sound of children’s laughter
floating down the stream

the children intrigued
just a slight eye movement - yes
the penguin IS real

after the party
the children’s voices arrive
home before they do

long after the last
child has gone the carousel
keeps on turning

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Haiku archives at - http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

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This painting “The Princes in the Tower” by John Everett Millais (1829-1896), along with the story to which it relates, was included in a book given to me when I was a schoolboy, and I remember that it made me quite sad.

 Edward and Richard were the sons of Edward IV. When he died in 1483, the two immediately went to the Tower of London to prepare for the coronation of the elder boy Edward. Because he was only 13, his uncle Richard, Duke of Gloucester was made Protector, but within a few months Parliament declared the boys illegitimate and Richard was crowned King. The two brothers were never seen again, and in 1674, when two skeletons of children were discovered in the Tower, it was assumed that these were the remains of the princes.

 I’ve been trying to recall what other books I had as a boy. Arabian Nights was a collection of the well-known tales and was probably my favourite. I enjoyed Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, Treasure Island and Peter the Whaler by W.H.G. Kingston. We also had a Chatterbox Annual, a properly bound book, containing about 200 pages. This had belonged to someone in my father’s family, and it was full of stories, poems, pictures and paintings.

One of our books told the story of two children going to stay with an aunt with whom they didn’t expect to have much fun. However, she surprised them by producing a book which told Bible stories in an exciting way. And I remember that I kept re-reading that book.

I must mention that I first came across Shakespeare at home. My father had an old school copy of Hamlet, and I often read parts of it, but not really understanding what it was all about.

When I was secondary school age, I joined the local library, and the worlds of P.G. Wodehouse, Agatha Christie and John Dickson Carr were opened to me.

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITE  - Cole Porter’s “True Love” which came from the film “High Society” was a very big hit for Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly.

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SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD continue on Friday with “The Tailor who minded the bairn.”
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a number of poems for young children, and this one I remember very well -

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head,
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow,
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an indian rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.
He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

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HAIKU HOMESTEAD

yesterday was a special day for me -

three score years and ten
and then fourteen further years -
I don’t believe it!

another birthday -
old age crept up on me when
I wasn’t looking

I like those famous quotes -

I don’t feel 80. In fact I don’t feel anything till noon. Then it’s time for a nap. (Bob Hope)

The man who is too old to learn was probably always too old to learn. (Henry Haskins)

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be! (Robert Browning)

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This is a photograph of where we lived in Lenzie. Described as a town house, it’s said that the building, along with many other properties in that district, was based on designs by the architect Greek Thomson (1817-1875). Shortly before we left there in 1983 there was an article in the Scottish Field by the broadcaster and writer Maurice Lindsay about Greek Thomson with a photograph of our terrace as an illustration.

Our neighbour on one side was Thelma Barlow the actress who played Mavis Riley in the TV soap “Coronation Street.” She was very pleasant and we always remember that, when Jean locked herself out, she came to her aid by supplying a ladder and a friend to climb in an upstairs window.

However, our relations with the folk on the other side didn’t have a good beginning. It was Jean who first met the husband, a retired Army major, at that time a Conservative Party agent, who complained that my piano-playing was upsetting his wife. (No funny remarks, please.) In fact they turned out to quite nice folk and our family continued with the music - piano, organ, guitars, recorders, viola, clarinet and bassoon!!!

The house had many advantages. With 7 apartments, our 3 girls each had their own room and we were just a few minutes away from the bus route and the railway station.

There were disadvantages however. With no garage, the car had to sit out on the road, and parking could be difficulties on Saturdays and summer evenings when the nearby bowling green was open. The biggest problem was the fact there we didn’t have central heating.

And so we moved from a house which was more than 100 years old to our present home built in 1977.

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My new blog SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD began last week-end. The second story “MacCrinnoch’s Lament” will be posted on Friday 6th November.
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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This is a remarkable video of a young American organist Cameron Carpenter playing the Stars and Stripes March by Sousa. As an ex-organist, I think it’s a bit of a mess, but what he does is quite astonishing. The main theme he plays on the pedals with his right foot while his left foot supplies a bass. The fancy piccolo part complete with trills he plays with his feet, and watch out for him playing on the middle manual with his left hand while the thumb of that hand plays on the bottom manual. The trombone-tuba theme he plays on the pedals in octaves!!!



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Last week I came across something  interesting that appeared in a magazine in 1931. Good Housekeeping published a budget for a family with an annual income of £410.
Rent, rates, etc £80. Clothing £66. Food, light, fuel, laundry £152. Education £30. Holidays, entertainment, car £30. Insurance, savings £35. Incidentals, doctor, dentist £17.

Remember that the average annual income then was £170!

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I’m still in the 1930’s for my FORGOTTEN FAVOURITE. This is real nostalgia - Henry Hall and his Orchestra with vocal by Les Allen. Not only that, you get STRICTLY COME DANCING!!!!



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HAIKU HOMESTEAD

Haiku often point out a contrast or an inconsistency, as in the following

at the cottage door
a canary in a cage -
sparrows on the ground

the other birds flee -
a squirrel and a magpie
at the bird-feeder

in the gutter
a bouquet of flowers, still
in wrapping paper

For haiku archives  - http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

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This picture of an area in the High Street, Glasgow was taken by the famous photographer Thomas Annan circa 1870

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For a number of years now Jean and I have visited our doctor’s surgery to have the anti-flu injection, and one afternoon last week we had this done.

This time however we were asked if we would like to take a memory test. Like most folk of our age there are occasions when we forget someone’s name or when our memory plays tricks on us. So having agreed to the test, we were directed to another part of the surgery.

We were seen separately and asked at the start to memorise an address which we had to recall later. The questions were simple, such as - in which year did the Second World War begin, what’s your age, what’s the name of the Queen, etc. We were also asked to count down backwards from 20. We passed of course and came away pleased with ourselves.

However, later on at home, when we were discussing the test, we found that neither of us could remember all the questions we had been asked!!!!

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES 
This Serenade by the Dutch composer Jonny Heykens (1884-1945) was popular in the 1930s. In 1943 a Japanese radio station broadcasting to their armed forces made it their signature tune, and after the war it was adopted as the theme tune of Japanese railways.



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The picture below will be familiar to older folks. I remember that the character Shock-headed Peter appeared in an old Chatterbox Annual that had belonged to one of my father’s siblings.
Created by Heinrich Hoffman, Der Struwwelpeter consisted of ten German stories, each with a moral.

See Slovenly Peter! Here he stands,
With his dirty hair and hands.
See! his nails are never cut;
They are grimed as black as soot;
No water for many weeks,
Has been near his cheeks;
And the sloven, I declare,
Not once this year has combed his hair!
Anything to me is sweeter
Than to see shock-headed Peter.  (Tr. Anon)

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A MEMORY

My mother born in 1896 was the eldest in her family and next to her was George. On leaving school he became a clerk in a local iron foundry. He fought in the trenches in the First World War. As a result of being wounded, he lost the complete use of an arm. He became a Baptist minister and some time later Secretary of the Baptist Union in Scotland.

I remember that occasionally he would visit his parents on a Saturday afternoon, when we were there. He and Grandpa would sit having serious discussions about church affairs. One name kept cropping in their talk, as in “according to Spurgeon” and “Spurgeon says.”

Many years later I discovered that they were referring to Charles Haddon Spurgeon, a famous 19th century Baptist preacher and writer.

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SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD
My new site begins on Saturday 31st October with “A Hallowe’en Story” and will feature a different tale every week.
http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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This video from the British Film Institute shows Tower Bridge road market, London in 1931. There’s no sound track.



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This is Jean’s paternal grandmother Jane Mackenzie who was born in 1870. The photo was taken around 1888.

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This week’s quote - When saving for old age, be sure to put away a few pleasant thoughts. (Anon)

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I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE, but no, it’s absolutely true!

The Amazing Grace Baptist Church in Canton, North Carolina is having a bible-burning event at Hallowe’en, and are urging everyone to bring bibles - that is, with the exception of the King James Version which is the only one God approves of! They give also a long list of authors whose books they want to destroy, and the writers include Billy Graham, Mother Teresa and the Pope!!!

It looks as if they’re going to have a marvellous time, for they promise great preaching and singing plus a barbeque.

Well, I don’t wish them any harm, but with any luck a spark from the bonfire might set their church alight!!!

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES  - My choice this time is a song which was an international success -  “Suddenly there’s a valley” sung here by Jo Stafford. Edith Piaff had a hit with the French version in 1956 and Petula Clark’s record made the top ten in the UK. I was surprised to learn that Vera Lynn recorded the song in German, the title of which translates as “Follow your heart’s advice.”
  


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This is a preliminary notice of a new a new website which I am devising. It begins very appropriately on Hallow’een Saturday 31st October -

SCOTTISH TALES FROM THE OTHER WORLD

http://scottishtalesfromtheotherworld.blogspot.com

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I was looking again at the film of the Band of Hope procession, which was shown in this blog last week, and I noticed that, among the many banners on display, there was one “The Ragged School.”

This reminded me that, when I was a child, my mother used to say that my father had been a pupil at the “ragged” school. Despite the fact that I knew both my parents went to the same primary school, I pictured him as a small boy dressed in rags.

Realising that I didn’t know anything about the subject, I decided to rectify this. I’ve discovered that it all began in 1818 when a shoemaker called John Pounds started to teach poor children free of charge.

The concept soon spread with the work of people like Rev Thomas Guthrie in Edinburgh and Sheriff Watson in Aberdeen. There was a big leap forward in 1844 when Lord Shaftsbury founded the Ragged Schools Union, and by 1870, when the Education Act was passed, the number of such schools had reached 350.

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This is a short clip from the 1936 film Modern Times, for which Charlie Chaplin was responsible for the script, the music, the direction and the production, and of course he starred in it. I remember thinking “what a great picture!” when our parents took us to see it probably in 1938.



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Let us respect grey hair, especially our own. (J.P. Sears)

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I don’t remember there being a Band of Hope organisation in our area when I was a boy. Certainly there were branches everywhere in my parents’ day, and I think that most working-class children in the years before the First World War would attend the meetings. There would be talks, magic lantern shows, singing and probably tea and a bun. More importantly, the children would be encouraged to sign The Pledge in which they promised to abstain from all strong drink.

Founded in 1847 in Leeds, the members of the Band of Hope by the mid-1930s numbered nearly 3 million. After the war the temperance movement declined, and eventually the organisation, realising it had to move with the times, became Hope UK which concerned itself with all aspects of child welfare.

I was delighted to discover this fascinating Mitchell and Kenyon film showing a Band of Hope procession in 1901.



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The Mitchell and Kenyon company were pioneers in film making at the beginning of the last century. There’s a huge collection of their films in the archives of the British Film Institute.

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A NONSENSE POEM

A quiet home had Parson Gray,
Secluded in a vale;
His daughters all were feminine,
And all his sons were male.

How faithfully did Parson Gray
The bread of life dispense--
Well "posted" in theology,
And post and rail his fence.

'Gainst all the vices of the age
He manfully did battle;
His chickens were a biped breed,
And quadruped his cattle.

No clock more punctually went,
He ne'er delayed a minute--
Nor ever empty was his purse,
When he had money in it.

His piety was ne'er denied;
His truths hit saint and sinner;
At morn he always breakfasted;
He always dined at dinner.

He ne'er by any luck was grieved,
By any care perplexed--
No filcher he, though when he preached,
He always "took" a text.

As faithful characters he drew
As mortal ever saw;
But ah! poor parson! when he died,
His breath he could not draw! (Oliver Goldsmith 1728-1774)

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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES   Here Billy Mayerl plays his own composition “Marigold”. This was a piece I learned when I was having piano lessons.



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CLICKING FOR CHARITY

For many years now I have begun my day on the computer by logging on to the Ecology website. By clicking half-a-dozen times, I’m making a donation to a Fund which helps to save rainforests and endangered wilderness. So far I have personally saved more than five and a half acres.

I then log on to the Hunger site and my click results in a sponsor donating a cup of food. From the top of the Hunger site page you can access more charity sites - Breast Cancer, Child Health, Literacy, Rainforest and Animal Rescue, and by clicking at the relevant place on each one you are making donations at no cost to yourself.

The two addresses are -

http://www.ecologyfund.com

http://www.thehungersite.com

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Finally this will bring back memories for my family. The song was included in a Johnny Cash album which we had.



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FORGOTTEN FAVOURITES

My choice this week is one of Hoagy Carmichael’s many successful hits, sung here by the American group who became famous in the 1930s. When learning to play the piano, this was the first song copy that I bought - it would probably cost me 6d (two and a half pence). This clip was made available by “Barndog44”.



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'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone? (Thomas Moore 1779-1852, the Irish poet who also wrote “The Minstrel Boy.”)

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“Bathsheba” by Jean-Leon Gerome (1824-1904)

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Finally, this slide show, produced by “Whirlingtamthebam”, has great images of Scottish folk at work and at play in Victorian and Edwardian times. “The Way We Were” has an accompaniment of Shetland fiddle music. I give it 10 out of 10.



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This week at HAIKU HOMESTEAD -
When is a haiku not a haiku?

http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

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This photo was taken by Fiona recently when she was in Turkey.

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I REMEMBER in primary school we learned the multiplication tables by repeating them endlessly until they became fixed in our minds. Spelling too was taught that way and the whole class in unison would chant “eye enn in, eye enn in, ay tee at, ay tee at,” and so on. There used to be a lot of suppressed giggles when we came to “up.”

I REMEMBER that as an adult I paid a visit to that school, and marvelled at how small the rooms were. The toilets are still out in the playground, and a town councillor has been complaining about that for some years now.

I REMEMBER when I was about 10 years old, my mother invited one of her sisters for tea. She was accompanied by her fiance, though it’s possible they were married by that time. He blotted his copybook by spilling his tea on his lap and saying “Damn me!” A Bad Word! Now, if that word was spoken in a radio play, Mother would immediately switch off. I was really shocked, and couldn’t figure out why my father went into fits of laughter.

I REMEMBER on one of our rare visits to the cinema, the film involved aeroplanes. At one point a plane crashed and the pilot was killed. I couldn’t understand why the film star had agreed to play the part when he knew he would lose his life.

I REMEMBER that a fashion model lived across the road from my grandparents’ house. (Models were known as “mannequins” in those days, and fashion shows, which were frequently held in the town hall, were “mannequin parades.”) Her photograph appeared in many magazines - fully clothed, I must add! However, I could sense that the members of my mother’s family didn’t approve of the girl at all.

I REMEMBER that the only time my mother had domestic help was after Rita was born. An elderly woman came to work in the house and sometimes she sent her daughter. I think it was the daughter who on one occasion performed magic!!! She was in the back-court hanging out washing. She broke a piece off one of the iron clothes poles and gave it to me to eat. It tasted just like toffee, and I saw that, sure enough, half-way up the pole, part of the little cross-piece, used for tying the rope, was missing. Magic indeed!

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“His Master’s Voice” painted in 1898 by the English artist Francis Barraud 1856-1924.

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I’m always delighted when I come across a song or a piece of music that I haven’t heard for ages, and I thought I would begin a regular feature here of forgotten favourites.

Many of my favourites belong to the 1930s, when hotel orchestras and smaller groups were heard daily on BBC radio, playing what was then known as “light” music. And this is an example -

“In a Persian Market” by Albert Ketelbey



Albert William Ketelbey 1875-1959, despite his foreign-sounding name, was born in England.

A brilliant musician, composer and orchestral conductor, he was at one time musical director at London’s Vaudeville Theatre, and he had the honour of conducting a programme of his own music at a Royal Command Performance.

His many compositions include “Bells across the Meadow”, “In a Chinese Temple Garden”, “Sanctuary of the Heart” and “In a Monastery Garden.” Sometimes he published his music under the name Anton Vodorinski. (There was a belief in those days that all good music came from the continent, so perhaps he thought his compositions would sell better with that name.)

Although Ketelbey is largely forgotten nowadays, in 1929 he was said to be Britain’s greatest living composer.

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This is one of monologues that Jean used to recite, when she and I went out entertaining. Her material usually involved a number of different accents and this particular one is Cockney.

That there Mrs. ‘arris from Number 18
Is the nosiest parker as I’ve ever seen,
When first as our Lizzie went out with young Ted
You’d never believe all the things what she said
As how he was this, and that, and the other,
And as for his sister, his dad and his brother,
The lies what she told - well, I kicks up a scene
With that there Mrs. ‘arris from Number 18.

I met her out shopping and says to her face -
“What’s this you been spreading all over the place?”
She says “What about?” I says “What about what?”
She says “You’re mistaken,” I says “No, I’m not.”
She says “I can prove it,” I says “No, you can’t.”
She says “You’ll excuse me,” I says “No, I shan’t.”
I says “Just you wait till my husband I’ve seen.”
That there Mrs. ‘arris from Number 18.

The crocodile tears as that false hussie cried
Just 12 months ago when Jim ‘arris he died.
He’d hardly been buried ‘fore everyone knew
That she was out trying to catch number two.
And then, when us all was a-thinking young Ted,
Would marry our Lizzie - the blackguard instead
He puts up his banns at the church on the green
With that there Mrs. ‘arris from Number 18.

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The tune is “When you’re smiling” and I certainly smiled when I came across this! BRING ON THE DANCING GIRLS!!!



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FROM MY ALBUM


Highland Cattle in the field behind our house

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Last month I came across a book which had belonged to my mother. Published in 1899 by an Edinburgh firm, “Leah - A Tale of Ancient Palestine illustrative of the story of Naaman the Syrian” was written by Mrs A.S. Orr.

This is the opening paragraph -

“The short twilight of Eastern climes drew nigh, as Leah, the only child of Micaiah and Esther of Shechem, repaired to a spot sacred in her eyes and dear to her heart - her mother’s grave. It was now two years since Esther had been gathered to her fathers, in a tomb hollowed out in a great rock near her husband’s dwelling. To a seat near the sealed tomb, Leah loved to carry her lute and sing sacred songs.“

The above gives a rough idea of what the book is like. Now, for what age group would it be suitable?

Well, inside there’s the dedication - “To Pearl Hardie from Sunday School teacher Jane Barclay, December 1900.” But later that month my mother HAD HER 4TH BIRTHDAY.

Just another indication of how times have changed!

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“Tam O’Shanter and the Witches” by John Faed 1819-1902

This painting illustrates the scene in Robert Burns’s poem, when Tam, more than a little bit inebriated, stops to watch a wild party going on at Kirk-Alloway.

“Warlocks and witches in a dance;
Nae cotillon brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels
Put life and metal in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat Auld Nick in shape o’ beast;
A towsie tyke, black, grim and large,
To gie them music was his charge;
He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl.”

Burns goes on to describe some of the horrors that Tam saw - open coffins containing corpses, on the table the skeleton of a murderer, a thief recently cut down from the gibbet, knives stained with blood, and of course a host of witches and devils dancing furiously.

Among them was “ae winsome wench” who took Tam’s fancy. He loved her wild dancing and, without thinking, he shouted out “Weel done, Cutty-sark!”

At once the dancers stopped,rushed out and chased after Tam. He was on his horse Maggie and rode off as fast as possible. The gang were about to catch up with him, but “A running stream they dare na cross”. Tam escaped over the bridge but the horse -
“left behind her ain gray tail;
The carline caught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.”

The poem ends with -

“Now, wha this tale o’ truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother’s son, take heed;
Whene’er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys owre dear -
Remember Tam O’Shanter’s mare.”

You can read the whole poem at the Alexandria Burns Club website where they also give an English translation.
http://www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Poems_Songs/tamoshanter.htm


This a a photograph of the Auld Kirk probably taken around 1880. The building was already in ruins when the Burns family lived in the area, but the churchyard was still being used for burials, and the poet’s father is buried there..

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A Scottish song now, but not one by Burns. The words of The Skye Boat Song were written by Sir Harold Boulton (1859-1935) and set to the melody of a traditional Gaelic rowing song.

The singer here is Barbara Dickson, and the words are shown below.



Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air;
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.

Speed, bonnie boat, etc.

Many's the lad fought on that day,
Well the Claymore could wield,
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field.

Speed, bonnie boat, etc.

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This week at JOHN’S QUIET CORNER the subject is Nature

http://john-quietcorner.blogspot.com

This week at HAIKU HOMESTEAD - “Caterpillars and Butterflies” plus the 5-7-5 rule - Yes or No?

http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

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