BEST WISHES TO EVERYONE FOR CHRISTMAS AND THE NEW YEAR

Following the very heavy snowfall, I ventured out one afternoon to take photographs, and here are a few of them. The last picture shows 18 inches of snow on our patio table.

At the end of this blog, there’s a photo that Fiona sent me, showing two feet of snow.

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Nearly three weeks after the cold spell began there are still patches of snow lying here and there, and, particularly on pavements, hard-packed ice makes walking difficult.

For three days last week there were no buses running in the Kirkintilloch area, and none at all in our village for most of the week. We managed to keep our house reasonably warm, but in some places people were without electricity or gas.

Jean was reminded of this Glasgow verse -

Winter has came, the snow has fell,
Wee Josie’s nose is froze as well,
Wee Mary’s nose is red and skintit,
Winter’s diabolic, in’t it?

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I like this painting by an unknown artist -



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The New Year is a good time for new ideas, new plans, new beginnings. I’ve been re-thinking my blogs and am making some changes.

80 plus will become an occasional blog appearing on Thursdays every so often.
The Pre-Raphaelite site will come to an end next week, when 80 paintings will have been collected.
With the exception of Christmas and New Year week-ends, Quiet Corner will continue on Mondays, A Touch of Culture on Fridays, and Wise Men Say daily.
And a new weekly blog The Poetry Path will start on Wednesday 5th January. You can have a look at the website now at -
http://thepoetrypath.blogspot.com

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I was delighted to discover this YouTube presentation of “Ding Dong! Merrily on High.” It has been expertly devised by Tom Roush.

Now for the two feet of snow . . . . . . . .



BEST WISHES TO EVERYONE FOR CHRISTMAS AND THE NEW YEAR

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THINKING ABOUT CHRISTMAS PAST

Christmas in the 1930s was very different from the Christmases of today.

In Scotland Christmas Day was just like any other working day, with offices, shops and factories open as usual. Hogmanay and the New Year were much more important, New Year’s Day being a general holiday.

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

We children of course became very excited as the big day drew near. I remember that the living room in our tenement house looked wonderful, with paper decorations round the walls and across the ceiling. I mentioned in a earlier blog that my sister Rita doesn’t think we got many presents. I seem to remember that we did, but memory can play tricks and I may be thinking of one particular Christmas.

Each year we went to the Sunday School party where we played the usual games and Santa Claus handed out gifts to us all. I don’t think people had Christmas trees in their homes in those days, but there was always a beautifully-decorated tree at the party.

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 across a huge teddy bear, taller than an adult. As we passed it, our father shook its paw and said “How d’you do?” Its head fell off and rolled along the floor. We left it where it was, and hurried into the next corridor!

On the Sunday nearest Christmas Day, we sang the usual Christmas hymns in church, but there was no tree and no decorations.

It wasn’t till the late 1940s that Scotland began to make more of Christmas. Perhaps the change was due to our servicemen coming back to civvy street, having experienced how Christmas was celebrated elsewhere. This was certainly the case in our church when the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols was introduced, but I think it was some time later that services on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were begun. I remember one local minister telling me that he went to bed at ten every night, and he had no intention of changing his routine!

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Thanks to FreeFoto.com for this topical image

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I was surprised to see that Edmundo Ros, the Latin-American band leader, celebrates his 100th birthday this month.

Born in Trinidad, he moved to Venezuela where he joined the army as a musician. After demob, he became a member of the Venezuelan Symphony Orchestra where he played tympani. He came to London in 1937 to further his classical career, but the attraction of popular dance music was too strong. He was drummer/vocalist with Don Marino Barreto’s Band, before forming his own 5-piece rumba band.

The group was an instant success, and they became resident at London’s Bagatelle Restaurant, the famous venue popular with members of the Royal Family. In 1951 he bought the Coconut Grove, named it “The Edmundo Ros Dinner and Supper Club” and it’s said that only people whose names were in “Who’s Who” were allowed admission.

He retired in 1975 and moved to Spain. In 2000 New Year’s Honours List he was awarded the O.B.E.

This is one of his great singles - a lovely arrangement of Melodie d’Amour. As always with Edmundo’s vocal, every word is clear.



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Tomorrow on A TOUCH OF CULTURE - Poetry to make you smile
http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

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This is the flag of Scotland - the St. Andrew’s Cross, also known as the Saltire.

Various stories relate that in the 4th century a number of St. Andrew’s bones were brought to a Scottish monastery, located where the town of St. Andrews now stands. In the mid-10th century he was made Patron Saint of Scotland, and November 30th is St. Andrew’s Day.

He is also patron saint of Ukraine, Russia, Rumania, Patras in Greece, Amalfi in Italy, Luqa in Malta and Esgueira in Portugal.

I was interested to discover that relics of the saint are said to be kept in the Basilica of St Andrew’s in Patras, Greece, in the Duomo of St Andrew in Amalfi, Italy, in the Church of St Andrew and St Albert in Warsaw, and also in St Andrew’s Roman Catholic Cathedral in Edinburgh.

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The Scottish thistle has been the emblem of Scotland since the reign of Alexander III in the 13th century.

The story of how this humble plant acquired such an honour goes back to the feuding between Scotland and Norway. It’s said that one dark night an invading army of King Haakon’s men were stealing up on a camp of Scots, hoping to surprise them. One of the Norwegians in his bare feet stepped on a thistle and let out a cry of pain. This alerted the Scots and the attack was repelled.

In 1470, when James III was on the throne, the thistle appeared on Scottish silver coins.

It seems that not everyone admires the Scotch thistle. In some parts of America it has been declared Public Nuisance No1 and was said to be “an noxious and annoying little Scottish weed.”

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Scotia’s thistle guards the grave,
Where repose her dauntless brave;
Never yet the foot of slave
Has trod the wilds of Scotia.

Free from tyrant’s dark control -
Free as waves of ocean roll -
Free as thoughts of minstrel’s soul,
Still roam the sons of Scotia.

Scotia’s hills of hoary hue,
Heaven wraps in wreathes of blue,
Watering with its dearest dew
The healthy lochs of Scotia.

Down each green-wood skirted vale,
Guardian spirits, lingering, hail
Many a minstrel’s melting tale
As told of ancient Scotia.

Wake, my hill-harp! Wildly wake!
Sound by lee and lonely lake,
Never shall this heart forsake
The bonnie wilds of Scotia.

Others o’er the ocean’s foam
Far to other lands may roam,
But for ever be my home
Beneath the sky of Scotia!

(Henry Scott Riddell 1798-1870)

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Now, on a lighter note - a Scottish joke.

Jock had been in the pub all day and at closing time he found it impossible to stay on his feet. A couple of men managed to get him to the door and he assured them he would be all right. However he kept falling down and the only course open to him was to crawl home. Keeping as quiet as possible, he crept upstairs. His wife was sound asleep and he succeeded in getting into bed beside her. When he awoke next morning, his wife was already up and dressed. “So ye were drunk again last night?” she said. "What makes ye say that?" he asked. "Because that was the pub on the phone. Ye left yer wheelchair there again!"

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Finally, this video compiled by "glasgow1234" has some great pictures to accompany an instrumental version of "The Flower of Scotland."



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Tomorrow on A TOUCH OF CULTURE
Johann Sebastian Bach with a difference!!!

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Yes, this is me! My daughter Fiona has named this photo “Happy Dad.”

I REMEMBER when I was very small I was afraid of the black-faced coalman who used to tease me about a girl in the next close.

I REMEMBER the lamplighter with his long pole. I thought he had a great job.

I REMEMBER that every so often buskers would appear in our back-court and sing one or two songs. Housewives would open their windows, throw down coppers and the singer would move on to the next tenement. Sometimes one of them would play a tin whistle or do a dance, and I’m told that before the First World War German bands toured the country entertaining in back-courts.

I REMEMBER the horse-driven vans which visited our street, and the occasion when the horse which pulled the baker’s van fell down. Someone sat on its head as it lay flat on the street, while the baker undid all the belts and straps. Only when that was done was the animal able to get up, unharmed.

I REMEMBER message boys on bicycles. They were usually employed by food shops, and they had the job of delivering what housewives had ordered.

I REMEMBER that in the wintertime we went to school wrapped up in layers of clothing. Boys always wore caps and short trousers; in those days we had to wait till we were 15 or 16 before we got long trousers.

I REMEMBER the old lady who lived in the top floor. It seemed to me that she always wore the same clothes, a long dress down to her ankles and a shawl. Half a dozen times a day she would climb down the stairs with an overweight Scotch terrier under her arm. She would let it wander around the back court for a few minutes and then retrace her steps.

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Last week my Eighty Plus blog was mentioned on the Clifford James website
http://www.clifford-james.co.uk/blog/rambler-blogs/
This is what the reviewer said:-

“John keeps us regularly updated on life, the universe and everything in this witty blog. This is a great blog to while away the odd ten minutes, as there is always something thoughtful, informative or entertaining to keep you amused, like his quirky animal photos or his amazing You Tube finds.”

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No, neither the baby or the cat are related to me! I found this picture on the net

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The other day I saw an advert for a CD called “The Songs that Won the War.” A bit over the top?
Still, I don’t think we can exaggerate the importance of the songs we sang then, and particularly the ones that were written with the war in mind.

Many of them played a big part in boosting our morale - We’re goin’ to hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line, Kiss me goodnight Sergeant-Major, Roll out the barrel, Bless ‘em all, and many, many more.

But there were others, much more serious, in which the words reflected something of the concerns and hopes that people had in those terrible times. Here are the lyrics of two songs from 1940. Even today I still find them very moving.

There are two eyes, such blue eyes a’smiling at me,
Yet they’re lonely as only a woman’s can be,
For I see all her thoughts are somewhere -
Somewhere in France with you.

And she’s talking, she’s talking of no one but you,
She’s so proud, oh so proud of the things you will do,
I can see all her love is somewhere -
Somewhere in France with you.

And when your letters come, they bring a smile, a tear,
Each one a sweet souvenir,
Only one of a million who’ll never complain,
For she knows that the sunshine will follow the rain,
Every beat of her heart will always be
Somewhere in France with you.

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My sister and I remember still
A tulip garden by an old Dutch mill,
And the home that was all our own until -
But we don't talk about that.

My sister and I recall once more
The fishing schooners pulling into shore,
And the dog-cart we drove in days before -
But we don't talk about that.

We're learning to forget the fear
That came from a troubled sky.
We're almost happy over here,
But sometimes we wake at night and cry.

My sister and I recall the day
We said goodbye, then we sailed away,
And we think of our friends that had to stay,
But we don't talk about that.

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And now here’s a song which looked forward to the time when peace would return -



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A few weeks ago, when I was preparing to write about Hallowe’en for A TOUCH OF CULTURE, I was reading about old Scottish superstitions and I found that people who lived in the County of Fife had their own ideas of what brought good fortune or bad luck.

This was of particular interest to me because my ancestors came from Fife; the earliest was born there in 1698.

Many birds and animals were thought to have supernatural powers, and there were charms associated with some insects.

A bee in the house foretold the arrival of a visitor, and it was unlucky to chase the bee out; a bee landing on your hand was a sign that riches would be yours.

A mixture of ants’ eggs and the juice of an onion placed in the ear was said to cure deafness.

And ladybirds brought good luck.

Some birds were not welcome; when the cries of the widgeon or the plover were heard, people took that as a warning of impending disaster. Others which were believed to be unlucky were the lark, the lapwing and the curlew.

Not all birds were feared though; to see a wren was a good omen and, if a swallow built a nest on your window sill, you would prosper.

Human ailments could sometimes be cured by animals; it was believed that cattle in the stable at Bethlehem breathed on the baby Jesus to keep him warm, and, because of that, the breath of a cow could cure consumption.

Of course, like all other parts of the country, Fife has its share of fishermen’s superstitions. Women, clergy and lawyers brought bad luck; on a ship it was unlucky to sneeze or to whistle; Friday sailings had to be avoided, for witches chose that day to roam the seas.

There were two other days when it was unlucky to begin a voyage - the last Monday of the year, for that was said to be the day on which Judas hanged himself, and the first Monday in April the day when Cain killed Abel.

I like this story about the village of Auchtermuchty.

The inhabitants were well-known for their strong religious beliefs. This annoyed the Devil and he determined to win them over. Disguised as a Presbyterian minister he arrived one day and set up his pulpit in the village square. His eloquence was beginning to have an effect on his listeners, when a man in the crowd noticed two cloven hoofs below the speaker’s long black robes.

When the man cried our a warning, the Devil flew up in the air and vanished, never to return.

Hence the old saying - you can never get anyone from Auchtermuchty to heed a sermon!

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I had a birthday last week, and I was looking again at a newspaper which was published the day I was born. Here’s a list of some of the products advertised, with the cost in today’s currency.

20 cigarettes - 5p
Gallon of petrol - 8p
Wool cardigan - 25p
Silk stockings - 31p
Pair of shoes - £1.20
Gent’s 3-piece suit - £2.00
Lady’s coat - £3.15
Lady’s watch 18ct gold - £3.50
Wardrobe, dressing table and small chest - £21
New car - £200.00

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“The Way We Were” - this video was compiled by “whirlingtamthebam.”



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SOME BLOG NEWS

Because of increased interest being shown in my Pre-Raphaelite site, I’m planning a second series. Beginning on Tuesday 23rd November, I’ll be adding a painting to the blog every day. The address is -
http://myownselection.blogspot.com

My other blogs will continue - A Touch of Culture on Fridays, John’s Quiet Corner on Mondays, Eighty Plus on Thursdays, and Wise Men Say daily.

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THURSDAY NOVEMBER 11TH

Something different this week -

when surfing the net, I often come across great pictures. I always like the ones of animals and birds, and I'm sure those I've chosen will appeal to you.

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Tomorrow 12th November on A TOUCH OF CULTURE - A Visit to Kyoto
http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

                                     Planes, Trains and Automobiles

                                                      PLANES

In the early 1930s it was a rare occurrence to see an aeroplane flying over. If one did appear, we children would stop our games, gaze up to the sky and chant “An aerey-plane, an aery-plane!”

A few years later we had the opportunity to see planes in the air and on the ground, when Sir Alan Cobham’s Air Display came to a field just outside our town. What excitement! There were stunt pilots performing all sorts of clever manoeuvres, including looping the loop, the falling leaf, sweeping down to pick up a cloth on the ground, and walking on the wing. I envied the children who went “up in a plane” that day.

But my turn came later. We were on holiday at Prestwick when small aircraft were making short flights from the sands. I’m not sure if my father enjoyed the experience, my mother watching from the prom certainly didn’t, but needless to say, I did!

The plane shown here is similar to the one we flew in.

                                                      TRAINS

Travelling by train was always exciting for children in those days. Many folk who worked in Glasgow used the railway rather than buses, and there was a frequent service from our town.

When we went on holiday it was by train. A few days before we set off, a railway lorry would call to collect our luggage, usually a big hamper, and, when we arrived at our destination, our hamper would be there waiting for us.

I can remember the excitement as we waited on the platform for our train to appear. The engine seemed to be enormous, and the tremendous hiss of the steam was really quite frightening.

There were no corridor trains on any of our journeys, and that can be a problem for excited little boys!

There was a downside to rail travel however. Smoke and soot from the engine could penetrate the carriages and you could arrive at your destination with a black face!

Thanks to FreeFoto.com for this photograph.

                                                AUTOMOBILES

At that time there was very little motor traffic in our town. Most vans and lorries were horse-driven and there were very few cars.

Car engines had to be started by means of a handle inserted at the front of the radiator. On each side of the vehicle, stretching between the front and the back wheels, was the “running board” which you stepped on when boarding or alighting. There were no indicators of course, and the driver had to use certain hand signals to show his intentions. And of course there was the horn which produced that honking sound!

I presume car brakes weren’t all that reliable, for I often saw cars, parked on an incline, with a brick placed in front of the nearside front wheel.

Taxis were rarely seen. I imagine they were used only for weddings and funerals and I’m pretty sure that on such occasions most people would walk.

There were fire engines of course, but I don’t remember seeing police cars, though there was the "Black Maria", a big black vehicle that took you off to jail if you misbehaved. And there was another vehicle from which we hid - the dreaded “fever van.”

Thanks to FreeFoto for this picture of a 1915 Vauxhall. You’ll notice the spare wheel at the driver’s side.

This video shows scenes of a motoring club outing in the 1930s.
 

 
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A TOUCH OF CULTURE No.6 online tomorrow Friday 5th November -
“Remembering Yehudi Menuhin”
http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com/

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I expect we would all agree with the following, which I read recently.

“If we gathered our impressions from the newspapers alone, it would be easy to believe that there were no happy marriages, no honest bank officers, no incorruptible politicians. The discordant makes itself heard above the harmonious. Ugliness pushes beauty aside and crowds its hateful visage into the foreground.”

That comment was made 100 years ago in one of a series of articles “Cosy Corner Chats,” which were included in an annual called “The Girls’ Empire.”

Well, well. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose - the more things change, the more they stay the same.

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Last week I was remembering how class-conscious we were in the 1930s. There were a number of different levels in society and which level you were on depended on your trade or profession, how much money you had, etc.

But there was another quite rigid division in the population - religion.

Protestants and Catholics lived together, but had very little contact with each other. We children were segregated right from the start, for there were Catholic schools and Protestant schools, and where we lived, we weren’t allowed to play with those children who were different!

My parents told me that in the 1920s one of the town’s Church of Scotland ministers used to pack his church on Sunday nights by delivering anti-Catholic sermons. It’s interesting that he allowed his own children to play with Catholics, but of course their father was Headmaster of the Catholic School!

Fortunately, things are very different nowadays. Certainly there is still bad feeling in small sections of the population, but, for the vast majority, Protestants and Catholics get on well together and collaborate on many projects.

When I was a small boy, I was aware that people had a great dislike of Germany and the Germans. I first realised that, when someone gave me a toy marked “Made in Germany.” That was bad, but it was all right if it was “Made in Hong Kong.”

It was natural that this attitude would continue after World War II. I can remember that my parents were unhappy when  I agreed to accompany a German violinist at a one-off concert in Glasgow. He worked as a store man in Copeland and Lye’s, and had been introduced to me by a friend. He had very little English and as I had no German, I didn't find out his background. Did it occur to my parents that he might have been a refugee, perhaps a Jewish refugee?

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I don’t find much of interest on television nowadays, and I’m remembering that back in the 1950s/60s there were, for me anyway, a great many excellent programmes.

There was a lot of good drama in Armchair Theatre, the Wednesday Night Plays and series like Z-Cars and Dixon of Dock Green.

One programme that couldn’t be missed was “What’s My Line” presented by Eamonn Andrews with the regular panel of David Nixon, Lady Isobel Barnett, Barbara Kelly and the irascible Gilbert Harding. Part of the enjoyment was waiting for Gilbert to lose his temper. The purpose of the game was for the panel to guess what the contestants’ jobs were - not easy when one was a sagger maker’s bottom-knocker!!!

The What's My Line panel - David Nixon, Lady Isobel Barnett, Barbara Kelly and Gilbert Harding



On a more serious note, there was “Animal, Vegetable, Mineral” in which experts had to identify objects supplied by museums and universities.

“Music for You” was a programme of light classical music with Eric Robinson and his Orchestra. This type of TV show is sadly missed.

Comedy on television today doesn’t interest me at all. My top favourites of the past would include Harry Worth, Charlie Drake, Eric Sykes and Hattie Jacques in that situation comedy with Deryck Guyler as the policeman and Richard Wattis as their neighbour, and the best of all - Dad’s Army.

                                                   Harry Worth

There were good magazine-type programmes. Among them was “Late Night Line-up” where Joan Bakewell presented news and discussions on art topics.

And for variety shows, surely “Sunday Night at the Palladium” was the best. Throughout its run, comperes included Dickie Henderson, Bruce Forsythe, Norman Vaughan and Jimmy Tarbuck, and, with the Tiller Girls and a first class orchestra, I don’t think the show’s success has been repeated.

There was one outstanding music show whose popularity on TV and in the theatres spanned 20 years, and that was “The Black and White Minstrels.” Devised by music director George Mitchell, it made its first broadcast in 1958 and on one occasion viewing figures reached 18 million! In 1961 it won the Golden Rose in Montreux for the best light entertainment.

To conclude this brief trip down memory lane, there are two videos. First, a clip from a Black and White Minstrels show in the 1960s, and then - it was a real treat for me to find this one - the brilliant Danish entertainer Victor Borge.





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A TOUCH OF CULTURE No.5 is online tomorrow Friday 29th October.
http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

***A Touch of Culture**A Touch of Culture**A Touch of Culture***

Perhaps this quotation applies to me?

I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there. (Herb Caen)

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In the years between the two World Wars folks were very class-conscious, much more than they are today.

As young children my sister and I lived in a tenement in a well-kept area, where the stairs in the closes were swept down and washed every week, and the back-courts kept tidy. The people - and their children - were well-behaved, and altogether it was a good environment in which to be brought up.

At the other end of the street however, it was a different story. Large families lived in small houses, many of them room-and-kitchens with outside toilets, and it was clear that, with the bread-winner often unemployed, they had difficulty clothing and feeding themselves. In another part of the town, the houses were much worse and there were stories of rowdiness and drunkenness. Certainly we children would never stray into that area.

At the end of our part of the street there was a little lane which led through to a much more posh part. Most of the houses there were all big detached villas, each with a good-size garden, and those folks were just a bit higher up on the social scale.

But there was a further level still, and the people who belonged to that class lived in Lenzie. The houses were even bigger with very large gardens, and we knew that the folk there had servants!!!

And those were the five social classes, or so we believed. For many of course, the great aim was to progress further up the scale, and that was what happened to my family. When I was ten years old, my father bought a semi-detached house in the area through the little lane, and we left our tenement life behind.  (It’s interesting that my father’s family didn’t approve of our move. People in our class didn’t buy houses, it was implied.)

Much later on, when Jean and I were married with three children, our second home was a 7-apartment Victorian “town house” in Lenzie. But oh no, we were certainly not rich!

It’s now almost exactly 27 years since we left Lenzie and moved to our present home in Auchinloch Old Village.

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The following poem is typical of what was popular in the 19th century and I remember it was in one of my school books.
It was written by an American poet Rose Hartwick Thorpe 1850-1939, and was a favourite of Queen Victoria’s. Set in the 17th century, it tells of a young man, imprisoned by the Puritans, who is to be hanged when the curfew tolls.

“Sexton,” Bessie’s white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old,
With its turrets tall and gloomy, with its walls dark, damp and cold,
“I’ve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die
At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly help is nigh;
Cromwell will not come till sunset,” and her lips grew strangely white
As she breathed the husky whisper:
“Curfew must not ring tonight!”

“Bessie,” calmly spoke the sexton, every word pierced her young heart
Like the piercing of an arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart,
“Long, long years I’ve rung the Curfew from that gloomy shadowed tower,
Every evening just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour;
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right,
Now I’m old I will not falter -
Curfew, it must ring tonight!”

With quick step she bounded forward, sprang within the old church door,
Left the old man threading slowly paths so oft he’d trod before;
Not one moment paused the maiden, but with eye and cheek aglow
Mounted up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and fro.
As she climbed the dusty ladder, on which fell no ray of light,
Up and up, her white lips saying -
“Curfew must not ring tonight!”

She has reached the topmost ladder, o’er her hangs the great dark bell,
Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell.
Lo, the ponderous tongue is swinging, ‘tis the hour of curfew now,
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her brow.
Shall she let it ring? No, never! Flash her eyes with sudden light,
As she springs and grasps it firmly -
“Curfew shall not ring tonight!”

Out she swung - far out; the city seemed a speck of light below,
There ‘twixt heaven and earth suspended as the bell swung to and fro,
And the sexton at the bell rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell,
Sadly thought, “That twilight Curfew rang young Basil’s funeral knell.”
Still the maiden clung more firmly and with trembling lips so white,
Said to hush her heart’s wild throbbing -
“Curfew shall not ring tonight!”

O’er the distant hills came Cromwell; Bessie sees him, and her brow,
Lately white with fear and anguish, has no anxious traces now.
At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands all bruised and torn;
And her face so sweet and pleading, yet with sorrow pale and worn,
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light;
“Go, your lover lives,” said Cromwell,
“Curfew shall not ring tonight!”

Wide they flung the massive portal; led the prisoner forth to die,
All his bright young life before him. ‘Neath the darkening English sky
Bessie comes with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with love-light sweet;
Kneeling on the turf beside him, lays his pardon at his feet.
In his brave strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face, upturned and white,
Whispered, “Darling, you have saved me -
Curfew will not ring tonight!”

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The writers of this song got their idea from that poem. In the 1960s “Hang on the bell, Nellie” became very popular. This is the Billy Cotton Band version with the vocal by Alan Breeze.



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My mother's family the Hardies with their McFarlane cousins one hundred years ago

On the front row, the 2^nd from the left is Uncle Alex, the 5^th along is Aunt Mae.
In the centre are 3 women sitting together. The middle one is Grandma Hardie with Aunt Cissie on her knee.
Immediately behind them are 2 girls, the one on the left is my mother, the other is her cousin Maggie McFarlane.
Continuing to the right, the two boys are Uncle George and Uncle Hugh.
On the row above, Grandpa Hardie is 2^nd from the left. Beside him are Grandma Hardie’s parents, Hugh and Maggie McFarlane.
[Aunt Nessie, not in the group, would be just a few months old, and Aunt Frances was not born till two years later]

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I’ve been looking back to discover what was going on in the world when that photo was taken.


Abroad in 1910, Chinese troops had occupied Tibet and the Dalai Lama fled. In Hungary one thousand people lost their lives in floods, and an earthquake in Nicaragua killed five hundred. There was one item of good news - Marie Curie succeeded in isolating radium.

At home there was a great deal of unrest among railwaymen, shipyard workers and the Welsh miners. The suffragettes were active in those days and three hundred of them clashed with the police outside Parliament buildings.

On the political scene, there were two General Elections, one in January and the other in December. The Liberals were successful both times, and Mr Asquith was the Prime Minister.

One man’s name became known world-wide. Dr. Crippen, an American homeopathic doctor living and working in London, poisoned his wife and buried her body in the cellar. In June he was arrested on the SS Montrose which was bound for America. Later in the year he was found guilty and hanged.

The King - Edward VII died in May and was succeeded by his son who became George V.

The Girl Guides were founded that month.

Robert Falcon Scott was put in charge of the British Antarctic Expedition. This was to end in disaster two years later.

1910 saw the first Labour Exchanges, later to be known in Scotland as “the buroo.”

The cinema of course was still in its infancy, but in the USA many short one-reelers were being produced. The first Frankenstein movie was shot in 3 days and lasted 16 minutes. A version of Charles Dickens’ Christmas Carol lasted all of 10 minutes!

In the world of literature, Prester John by John Buchan, Howard’s End by E.M. Forster and The History of Mr Polly by H.G. Wells were published.

And what were folks singing and whistling? Down by the Old Mill Stream, Chinatown my Chinatown, Some of these Days and Let me call you Sweetheart.

Imported from South America, the Tango was making its first appearances on dance floors, and causing controversy - it was NOT respectable!!!

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Compiled by “rosebudgarden” this video is a collection of photos taken during the first decade of the 20th century. The song is “The Sparrow and the Gentle Dove” by Purcell.  



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A TOUCH OF CULTURE N0.3 is online tomorrow Friday 15th October 
http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

***A Touch of Culture**A Touch of Culture**A Touch of Culture***
 

I suppose I had assumed that my old wooden giraffe had been thrown out many years ago. So I was delighted when Fiona told me that she had it. It would be early in the 1930s when it was given to me, and I was told that it had been made by a little black boy.

That led me to think about other toys I had when I was small, and then I remembered an interesting story I had read in a newspaper some time ago.

After the death of her husband Dewi, Brenda Rowland was going through his possessions and eventually came to his precious garden hut. Over the years he had kept a locked wooden box there and had refused to tell her what it contained.

So rather reluctantly and with some worrying thoughts, she decided to open the box. She was astonished to find it was full of old pre-war toys, obviously things he had played with and loved when he was a boy.
Lined with a 1937 newspaper, the box contained ludo, snakes and ladders, building bricks, skipping ropes, a little farm with animals, zoo animals, lead soldiers, a yo-yo, a wooden alphabet, marbles, a clockwork train.
With no children to pass them on to, he had kept them all those years, and I wonder if perhaps he sometimes opened the box and handled those precious things which had been so important to him as a boy.

This story brought back many memories for me - the games and toys that I had, and of course those that our daughters had. There were Chad Valley toys, Corgi cars, Hornby train sets, Meccano, dolls (but not for me of course), games like tiddley winks, lotto. And one thing you won’t find in shops nowadays - a golliwog!

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"Brothers and sisters have I none,
But this man's father is my father's son."
Who is the man in the photo? 


I remember being puzzled by this question when I was a boy, and I was interested to find from the many websites and forums dealing with the problem that people still can’t agree!

Here are a few puzzles that were new to me. I give the answers at the end of the blog.

1) John's mother had four children. The first was April, the second was May, and the third was June. What was the name of the fourth child?

2) What is it that can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, and has a bed but never sleeps?

3) What is light as a feather, yet even the strongest man can’t hold it for more than a few minutes?

4)What’s full of holes but still holds water?

5)You’re driving a bus. Seven people get on, four people get off, then eight people get on and five people get off, then six people get on and two more get off. What colour were the bus driver's eyes?

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"The Great Dictator" was a Charlie Chaplin film which created quite a stir when it was first shown in 1940. Written, directed and starring Chaplin, it satirised the Nazis and Hitler.

I remember being quite disappointed when I saw it, because the Charlie Chaplin on the screen wasn't the one I had come to see.

This clip from the film is certainly different!



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My new blog A TOUCH OF CULTURE will be updated tomorrow 8th October when I'll be having quick look at some ballet.

chttp://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

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Answers to the puzzles - 1) John. 2) a river. 3) his breath. 4) a sponge. 5) the colour of your eyes, you were driving the bus.
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This photograph is one of the oldest we have of the Jaaps. Taken about 1888, it shows George and Jean Jaap with their six sons.
Standing (Left to Right) -  John Armour Jaap b.1868 (my grandfather), Walter Jaap b.1866, Richard Jaap b.1870, Robert Jaap b.1872
Centre - Andrew b.1875
Seated - George Jaap b.1834, James Jaap b.1878, Jean Armour b.1841. 

I've been reading again some of the material which I posted a while ago on my Eighty Plus Four blog, and the following article is worth repeating for the benefit of anyone who hasn't seen it before.

My great-grandfather George Jaap (1834-1908) was a coal miner. In 1865 he married Jean Armour (1841-1911). They had six sons, plus Jean’s own daughter Elizabeth who was brought up in the family as a Jaap.

Some time in the 1890s five of the boys went to the USA and found work in Andrew Carnegie’s steel works in Pittsburg. Two of them Robert and James decided to stay and brought their families to settle in the States. The others - Walter, my grandfather John (who hadn’t been on the American trip), Richard and Andrew remained in Scotland.

During the 19th century a great many Scots emigrated to the USA. Poverty and unemployment were perhaps the main causes of this great movement of the population, but for others there was the attraction of going to a country where, so it was believed, a higher standard of living was attainable.

It’s difficult to imagine the feelings of the brave souls who left their homes and friends behind, heading for the unknown. Certainly, for those whose adventure began in the earlier part of the 19th century, the journey was no “piece of cake.”

Liverpool was the main starting-off point and very often travellers had to wait for days, living in dirty, over-crowded lodging houses, being constantly harassed by pickpockets and thieves who would steal their luggage and make them pay for its return.

The journey by sailing ship took about 35 days. Most folk were accommodated in steerage, which was like a dormitory with bunks on both sides and tables down the middle. There was serious overcrowding, poor ventilation and, apart from seasickness, there were cases of cholera and typhus. What a nightmare it must have been!

Things had improved considerably by 1860 when steam ships had replaced sailing vessels. By that time healthy competition had grown between shipping companies who were keen to do what they could to attract customers, and 3rd class cabins had largely taken the place of steerage. And most important of all, the journey was now taking 7-10 days.

Of all those who emigrated, a surprising number were Mormon converts on their way to Utah. There had been a lot of Mormon activity particularly in England from 1835, and it was claimed that by 1850 they had made 30,000 converts. On two occasions they hired the SS Sailor Prince to convey their new members from Liverpool to New Orleans, and on the second trip in 1848 (which took 57 days) their number included members of a family who were related to one of our Jaaps.

If you are familiar with our Jaap family tree website, you will probably have seen the following paragraph which we obtained from Mormon archives.

In 1856, Brigham Young, the Mormon president, devised a plan whereby emigrants from Britain could come to Utah if they were willing to pull handcarts and walk the 1,300 miles from Iowa to Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap, her husband Paul Gourlay and two small children were members of the Edward Martin Handcart Company. Unfortunately this group was late in beginning their trip in the fall of 1856, and met with disaster when winter storms trapped the emigrants along the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. Two hundred members of the company died of starvation and cold, before Brigham Young could send a rescue party of wagons from Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap's two young children died. There are conflicting stories on the fate of Ellison. One report says she died in Wyoming, and the other states that she made it to Utah. A journal kept by one of the members of the Martin Company mentions the death of her seven month old child Margaret with the following entry: "15 August 1856, a child was buried this morning. The coffin had to be made, which delayed us until about eight o'clock."

A very sad story! We know that Ellison Jaap came from Fife where our ancestors lived, but as far as we know she was not related to our family.

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This video has been made available on You Tube by Alex Airlie. When you look at those old photos of where people lived in the Glasgow of the 19th century, you can understand why so many folk were prepared to leave Scotland and begin afresh elsewhere.



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My new blog A Touch of Culture begins tomorrow Friday 1st October at - http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com

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Thinking about the 1930s . . . .

I REMEMBER -

Sundays - when all the shops were closed, football was prohibited in the parks, and the swings and roundabouts were padlocked to prevent their use. Any parks which were surrounded by railings had their gates locked. There was no golf on Sunday, no cinema. And radio programmes were suitably restrained - no dance music, no comedy shows.

So what did we do? In our best clothes and in our best behaviour, we went to church for the morning service which lasted about an hour and a quarter, and immediately afterwards to Sunday School. We lived about fifteen minutes walk from the church and it’s interesting to recall that we children walked home unescorted.

In the afternoon, like many other families, we went for a walk.  A common sight was a group of gospel people having a meeting at a street corner. I remember one preacher who stood all on his own waving his Bible, shouting his message, with no one paying any attention to him.

I REMEMBER -

what a variety of shops we had in our town. Most of them were long-established family businesses, and each had their own characteristics.

There was an ironmonger who seemed to stock absolutely everything; if you needed something like half-a-dozen nails, he would give you a handful and charge just a nominal sum. Long after the war was over, a “Dig for Victory” poster still hung on the wall behind his counter.

There were a number of private grocers, but our custom had to go to the Co-op, since my father was an employee. One thing we used to see that would never be seen nowadays - a shop’s cat asleep in the window surrounded by produce!

Because it was illegal to sell alcoholic drinks in our town, there were no pubs, hotels, restaurants or licensed grocers.

I have a very clear picture in my mind of the main street on a late afternoon in winter. The shops were all poorly lit by gas, and except the area around the lampposts the pavements were in darkness.

I REMEMBER -

that there was a very good bus service to Glasgow and their time-keeping was excellent. Drivers and conductresses wore uniforms with caps. The only way of communicating with the driver, isolated in his cabin, was by means of a cord which stretched the length of the bus. The conductress pulled the cord and a bell rang in the driver’s cabin -one ring for stop, two rings for go.

At times the buses were very busy and conductresses on double-deckers were continually rushing up and down the stairs collecting fares. I used to marvel at how they managed to write in their little notebooks, despite the jolting of the bus. I wonder how legible their figures were!

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“Monna Giovanna” by Edward Robert Hughes 1851-1914

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My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her.
For every season she has dressings fit,
For winter, spring and summer.

No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on,
But beauty’s self she is,
When all her robes are gone. (Anon)

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my new blog . . . . . . A TOUCH OF CULTURE . . . . . . my new blog

                                 starting Friday 1st October 

Every Friday      http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com      Every Friday               


                  Cartoon image by www.webweaver.nu/clipart

My other blogs Eighty Plus, Quiet Corner and Wise Men Say are continuing as usual

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This is a clip from the 1939 film "Let's be Famous". The singer is none other then Betty Driver, who plays Betty of the Rovers in Coronation Street. I'm pretty sure the actor with her is Jimmy O'Dea.



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“Monarch” by Sir Edwin Landseer (1802-1873)


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Many old people are concerned that more and more they’re forgetting things. Of course in the past we had never heard of Alzheimer’s disease, and forgetfulness was just considered part of growing old. In actual fact most old folk remain mentally alert and we shouldn’t worry too much about the odd “senior moment.”

I’ve been remembering that earlier this year I wrote a piece on this subject for another of my blogs, and I’d like to give other people a chance of reading it. So here it is -

One of the great eccentrics of the last century was Sir Thomas Beecham (1861-1961.)

There are a host of amusing stories about this orchestral conductor and many of them concern his poor memory.

My favourite one tells of the occasion when he meets a very well-dressed lady at a function; he is convinced he knows her, but can’t remember her name; he vaguely recalls that she has a brother, and, hoping to elicit a clue, asks, “And how is your brother keeping? Is he in the same job?” To which she replies, “Oh yes, he’s fine, and he’s still King.” The lady was Princess Mary, sister of King George VI.

I must admit I have problems with names. In the course of my work with the local council and my musical activities, I met many people over the years. They still remember me and my name, but, though I feel that I know them well, their names escape me.

I’m reminded of the two old ladies who had known each other all their days and who used to meet every Wednesday morning for coffee and a chat.

On one occasion one of them turned to the other and said “Now I don’t want you to be offended for we’ve known each other for a long time. I’m really very sorry, but please excuse me asking this - what’s your name?”

Her friend looked at her in some astonishment, thought for a moment and replied, “How soon do you need to know?”

Of course, among the many accounts of forgetfulness, there are probably more about absent-minded professors than any other trade or profession.

Some of these stories seem a bit far-fetched, but research has shown that indeed many members of that learned group have poor memories. Some of the early examples tell about the Greek philosopher Thales of Miletus (624BC-546BC.) Plato records that Thales was out walking one day and, looking up into the sky and not looking where he was going, fell down a well!

Two more “professor” stories.

Irwin Edman, a professor at Columbia University, was visiting a colleague one night, and the conversation must have been interesting for it continued well past midnight. Edman’s colleague eventually remarked that, since he had an early class next morning, he wanted to go to bed. Edman jumped to his feet and exclaimed, ”I’m so sorry, I thought you were in my house!”

I found many tales about Charles Lightbody of Saskatchewan University. I liked this one. Driving home one day, he saw a woman ahead of him crossing the road. The paper bag she was carrying burst open and the contents scattered on the ground. He stopped the car, got out and helped the woman gather up her groceries. Then, forgetting all about his car, went home by bus!

When I was a church organist, I used to worry that I would forget to turn up for a wedding. Thankfully that never happened, but I remember hearing about a wedding where everyone was present - except the minister! One of the ushers was despatched to the manse where he was found, digging his garden!!!

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So the question is - what can we do to combat loss of memory?

A friend of ours goes now to a memory clinic. When she was asked what they did there, she couldn’t remember, but she did say that they were given pictures to colour in, and that there was a prize of a box of chocolates for the best one.

As usual, when I need an answer to a question, I consult Google. I typed in “memory loss cure” and the result was 3,140,00 answers.

I don’t think I’ll bother!

The final item this week is a collection of photographs showing Scotland at its best. The music is “The Wild Mountain Thyme” by Lark and Spur.



Thanks to http://www.hasslefreeclipart.com for the cartoon images.

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The local clinic, which in my young day used to house the school doctor and dentist, has been lying empty since a big new health centre opened nearby.

I presume that over the years the old building provided a full range of services for all age groups, but for me that was the place in which I had my tonsils removed.

In those days it was thought the tonsils were responsible for a lot of childish illnesses, and many parents were persuaded that having the tonsils out would benefit their young ones.

I don’t remember a great deal about my operation, but I know that, after the job was done, I stayed in the clinic overnight and was allowed home the next day.

My sister tells me that she was to have it done as well. However, our parents decided against it, after a little girl died having her tonsils out. (And since then, Rita’s tonsils have given her no trouble at all.)

I was certainly more fortunate than some Glasgow children living in the early 1920s. Those attending the Victoria Infirmary had their tonsillectomies, were sent back to the waiting room to recover, and after a while went home with their mothers by tram. I’ve been told that these tramcars were known as the “Sawdust Cars,” because the floor had to be covered with sawdust to mop up the blood.

There was one good thing about having your tonsils out - you were allowed plenty of ice cream afterwards!

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Can you can guess what this gadget is?

It’s a crystal wireless set with earphones - sometimes just known as a cat’s whisker set.

The cat’s whisker was a thin wire which was used to find the exact place on the crystal which would result in receiving the wireless signal. A great deal of patience was needed, for the crystal required just the right pressure by the wire. An aerial was required as well, and of course only one person, using the earphones, could hear the broadcast.

Progress in the development of radio was quick and the general public soon became enthusiastic listeners.

1922 - The British Broadcasting Company went on the air with their 2LO station. The licence fee was 50p (ten shillings) per year.

1923 - The Radio Times magazine first appeared. (The newspapers, not wanting to popularise radio, had refused to advertise the programmes.)

1924 - First Royal broadcast. King George V, at the opening of the Empire Exhibition, Wembley.

1926 - The General Strike. Because no newspapers were being published, the BBC began transmitting five news bulletins each day.

1927 - The BBC became the British Broadcasting Corporation. The first broadcast of a Promenade Concert from the Queen’s Hall, London.

1928 - The first broadcast by the BBC Dance orchestra directed by Jack Payne.

1930 - The first broadcast by the BBC Symphony Orchestra, founded and conducted by Adrian Boult.

1932 - Henry Hall took over the BBC Dance Orchestra from Jack Payne.

I suppose it would be around 1935 that I began to take an interest in the radio. We listened to the Scottish Children’s Hour, though some favourites like Toytown came from London.

Saturday evening provided good entertainment.
The McFlannels was an early situation comedy from Glasgow.
In Town Tonight was a topical magazine with all sorts of people being interviewed.
Music Hall was an hour’s entertainment by well-known variety artistes who each had  a ten minute spot.
 And finally there was drama - not a serial, but a different play every week, some serious, some light-hearted, some old and some new.

Who were the big variety stars of the 1930s? 

George Robey, Sandy Powell, Ronald Frankau, Suzette Tarri, Nellie Wallace, the Western Brothers, the Two Leslies, Clapham and Dwyer, the Crazy Gang of which Flanagan and Allan were members, Max Wall, Will Hay, Norman Long, Albert Whelan, Wee Georgie Wood, Lily Morris, Jack Buchanan, Cicely Courtneidge, Will Fyfe, Evelyn Laye, Elsie and Doris Waters, Stanley Holloway, Gracie Fields, Anona Winn, Renee Houston and Donald Stewart, Leslie “Hutch” Hutchinson, Wilson, Keppel and Betty, and my list, which is by no means complete, ends with Billy Bennett.

Billed “Almost a Gentleman,” Billy Bennett (1887-1942) usually concluded his act with a monologue, and this was one of his -

There's a little sallow man lives north of Waterloo,
And he owns the toughest music hall in town,
There are broken-hearted comics, there's a graveyard for them too
And the gallery gods are forever gazing down.

He was known as Fat Caroo in the pubs round Waterloo,
And he wore a green tie with a diamond pin;
He was worshipped in the ranks by the captain of the swanks,
And the coalman's daughter loved his double chin.

He had loved her all along and despite his ong-bong-pong
The fact that she loved him they say was right,
Though her complexion was a fake, and her teeth were put and take
Put in by day and taken out by night.

'Twas the fifteenth anniversary of her twenty-second year,
So he smiled at her as sweetly as a hog
And asked what present she would like. And jestingly she said:
"Your green tie for my little yellow dog."

Fat Caroo seemed in a trance and his heart slipped through his pants,
But he tried his utmost not to look a wreck,
So he handed her the tie and kissed her hand good bye-
When he bowed his head she bit his neck.

Later on Caroo came to, his tie had gone, it's true
And his tiepin with it! He seemed in a fog.
He rushed liked mad to find, that she'd tied that tie behind
To the tailpiece of her little yellow dog.

She was screaming like a child, the dog was running wild,
Biting policemen as he galloped up the straight;
For the little dog, called Tom, when he wagged his to and from,
Felt the tie pin urge him on to meet his fate.

The dog returned at dawn with his windscreen slightly torn,
And unseen took something from the lady's room.
To another room he flew, saying: "That's for Fat Caroo,"
And silently he slunk out in the gloom.

When Caroo jumped into bed, he'd ‘ave wakened up the dead
With a scream he as he fell like a hog;
Her false teeth, they were buried in the seat of Fat Caroo-
'Twas the vengeance of that little yellow dog.

There's a cockeyed yellow poodle to the north of Conga Pooch;
There's a little hot cross bun that's turning green;
There's a double-jointed woman doing tricks in Chu-Chin-Chow,
And you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din.

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And I haven’t forgotten Jessie Matthews (1907-1981). Her father was a fruit and veg seller in London and she was the 7th child in a family of 16. Actress, dancer and singer, she achieved fame in the 30s on stage, screen and radio. In the 1960s she took the part of Mary Dale in the BBC’s long-running radio soap “Mrs Dale’s Diary.”

In this clip she sings “Look for the Silver Lining” from Jerome Kern’s 1920 show “Sally.” Halfway through the song there’s a picture of her with her second husband Sonnie Hale, the actor/director. (She was married and divorced 3 times.)



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The cartoon images of the doctor and the radio were taken from webweaver.nu/clipart. The image of the crystal wireless set came from Wikipedia.

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