Too darned hot!

It’s too darned hot for me, anyway, and we’re not within hailing of high summer. By that time, it may well be cold and wet and miserable.

 ‘Too Darn Hot’ was a song written by Cole Porter in 1948 for the musical ‘Kiss Me, Kate.’ I’ve never seen it.

It was inspired by the arguments, both on stage and off, between two married actors performing Shakespeare’s ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ in 1935.

I always thought the words were ‘too darned hot’ but discovered my error when I looked up the lyrics. I found the words quite surprising, and rather risqué for the period in which they were written.

The song has no bearing on the plot in film or on stage. In the theatre version, the song shows the company taking a break during the interval and complaining that it’s too hot. The complaints, apparently off-stage, are that it’s too hot for them to keep their assignations later that night.

According to the Kinsey Report
Ev'ry average man you know
Much prefer to play his favorite sport
When the temperature is low,
But when the thermometer goes 'way up
And the weather is sizzling hot,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 . . . it's too, too
Too darn hot,
It's too darn hot,
It's too, too, too, too darn hot.

I shall never think of ‘it’s too darn hot’ in quite the same way in future, but will continue to think, ‘it’s too darned hot.’

Many people in UK will be revelling in the soaring temperatures, which are set to reach their peak on Tuesday, at 34˚C (93.2˚F) in my region, the south of England.

Thereafter, they will drop until they are a more manageable 25˚C, gradually reducing to 22˚C, with the threat, or promise, of rain. We need rain, for the ground is very dry, and the risk of wildfires is correspondingly high.

I appreciate that what I consider high temperatures probably seems laughable to those in countries where heat is inescapable in the summer months, in tropical, and arid zones, and where water conservation is a major concern. I still think it’s too darned hot!

Catastrophe!

 

Catastrophe!

General Electric GE-645 mainframe configuration 

Image downloaded just to prove that it can (still) be done!

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In the grand scheme of things, it should not really be classed as catastrophic, but it cannot be denied that one’s personal computer breaking down is more than a slight irritation.

 It is astonishing that something can progress from working perfectly, though occasionally a little clunkily, to throwing a major tantrum, toys flying out of the pram in every direction. It went into a complete sulk, refusing to cooperate, sitting in the corner, drumming its feet, and pouting in a most unattractive manner.

After several hours it was told that enough was enough, or, actually, too much, and its time was up. Parts of it could be regenerated in a sort of organ donation way, but its LED lights would shine no more, or, at least, not in the same environment.

Meantime, its job was taken over by a fairly elderly but reliable laptop. A considerable period elapsed as passwords were sought in order to introduce favourite websites to the new system. The tried and tested method of saving passwords is to record them immediately. Yes, yes, I know the advice is to never write them down anywhere at all on pain of death, or of being cast into the outer ether.

 Unless you have one password for every site ever visited, which is risky, different passwords must be used. Some require a minimum number of letters, while others insist on numbers, punctuation, capital letters, characters, your mother’s maiden name, and how long you’ve lived at your current address.

Therefore, in common with most of technologically challenged mankind, users write passwords in a dedicated notebook. There are many on the market, prosaically labelled, ‘Passwords’ or ‘Internet Password Logbook’ or more to the point and reflecting the aggravation that passwords can cause, ‘WTF is my Password?’ (For the tender-minded, WTF can stand for ‘What the Flip’ – not quite so punchy, but inoffensive!)

This concludes my excuse reason for unexplained absence. There should be a default setting for unexpected nonappearance. ‘There has been an unscheduled break in transmission. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.’

Small world

 

Small world

 

City Walls and north-east Bastion, Free School Lane, Rochester, Kent.

This photograph, from the 1920s, shows St Nicholas' School on the left. The grass in the foreground became the lower yard of Sir William Josephson's Mathematical School for Boys. It is now  a car park!

Image courtesy Medway Archives Centre

Today, my middle daughter is working, by chance,  with someone from my old home town. In the course of discovering how much her colleague and I had in common, in terms of local landmarks, I found myself looking back to my young life.

My first school was St Margaret’s in St Margaret’s Street, Rochester. I spent my infant years there, from five to seven. I learnt to read, but was rarely called out to read to the teacher, which I later realised was because I was a ‘good reader.’ The school no longer exists.

My junior school years were spent at St Nicholas’ School in Free School Lane, Rochester. This had been built in 1857 alongside the mediaeval City Walls, and north-east Bastion. A bastion is a defensive, angled extension built out from the main wall, enabling defenders to fire along the wall’s sides and cover blind spots.

Records state that it educated boys and girls, but there were no boys when I was there. Possibly, there were boys in the infant department, but not in the junior school. The school was demolished in 1968.

                                            Rochester Cathedral

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 Another school built inside the city walls was King’s School, Rochester. It is a cathedral school, founded in 604 AD, and forms part of the foundation of Rochester Cathedral, which was constructed in the same year. It is claimed to be the second oldest continuously functioning school in the world. The oldest is The King’s School, Canterbury, which was founded in AD 597.

Rochester is an attractive small city on the banks of the River Medway. The Norman castle keep looks out across the river. The fortress was designed to control the Medway bridge and protect the road to London.

                                             Rochester Castle

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons
The cathedral, castle, and walls form one of the most complete Norman landscapes in England.

                                                        Image source

Charles Dickens lived near Rochester for most his life and it features in much of his work, often under other names, like ‘Dingley Dell’ in The Pickwick Papers, and ‘Cloisterham’ in Edwin Drood. Other buildings appear, too, like The Bull Hotel, Guildhall, and Eastgate House, which was renamed Westgate House for The Pickwick Papers.

 

Eastgate House, Rochester

 Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Give a dog a bone

 

Give a dog a bone

Our dogs don’t have butcher’s bones, but they do have bone-shaped chews, and chews in the shape of toothbrushes, or hedgehogs, or alligators. At other times, they have a raw carrot each. These things all help to keep their teeth clean and their breath sweet.

‘Give a dog a bone’ is a line in a children’s nursery rhyme, ‘This old man.’ It is an old counting rhyme with a strong rhythm, with different versions dating from the 1870s. It has been suggested that it referred to itinerant Irish pedlars, and the unpleasant treatment they received in Victorian times, but this has never been verified.

This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

A knick-knack is a trinket or inexpensive trifle sold by a traveller. It is also the nuchal ligament at the back of the neck in some mammals that have a heavy head or have to run long distances. It helps to support the weight of the head. In sheep and cows, this ligament is called the paxwax, or paddywhack. The nuchal ligament is often dried for use as dog treats. Paddywhack is an old English dialect word and has no association with Irish people.

This old man, he played two,
He played knick-knack on my shoe,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Knick-knack may also have been an allusion to the sounds made by bones or spoons, which might have been played as an accompaniment to the song.

This old man, he played three,
He played knick-knack on my knee,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Although paddy-whack does not refer to an Irishman, Paddy has been an affectionate name for Irishmen since the late 18^th century. It is the diminutive of Patrick or Pádraig, which are traditional Irish names.

This old man, he played four,
He played knick-knack on my door,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Why was the dog given a bone? Was it literal? It’s possible it referred to providing some form of small meal to the pedlar.

This old man, he played five,
He played knick-knack on my hive,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Bee-keeping was widespread in ordinary homes from the 12^th to the 19^th centuries. The hives were skeps, baskets made from coiled straw, and coated with dung or clay to provide some defence against poor weather. Honey was cheaper than sugar, and beeswax was used to make candles.

This old man, he played six,
He played knick-knack on my sticks,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Small cut branches or ‘hedge sticks’ were collected and used as kindling. Bundles of sticks were called faggots.

This old man, he played seven,
He played knick-knack up to Heaven,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Many infants did not live to see their first birthday in 1870. One in six died from infectious diseases, like measles, diarrhoea, and scarlet fever. Other causes of death included milk which may have been mixed with water or chalk, overcrowding in insanitary conditions, low birth-weight, and pollution in the cities. So, death and ‘Heaven’ were ever-present in families’ thoughts.

This old man, he played eight,
He played knick-knack on my gate,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

I always assumed that ‘rolling home’ referred to an inebriated man staggering home, but another suggestion is that it refers to a tinker’s horse-drawn caravan rolling along.

Rhymes nine and ten, ‘my spine,’ and ‘my hen,’ completed the song.

Torsk

 

Torsk

Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Torsk is the Scandinavian name for cod, but specifically Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) which is also known commercially as codling.

All true torsk are cod but not all cod are torsk. Some in the cod (Gadidae) family are sometimes marketed as cod, but are more properly known as haddock, pollock, coley, whiting, hake, among others.

In Ireland and the UK, cusk (Brosme brosme) is called torsk, even though it is not.

Atlantic cod can live for twenty-five years, and are sexually mature at ages varying from two to eight years. It has been heavily overfished, to the point of being labelled vulnerable on the IUCN Red List. Some stocks are more endangered than others, for example, in the western Atlantic around Canada and New England.

 Eastern Atlantic cod stocks, around Iceland, Norway, and the Barents Sea (north of Norway and Russia and strictly part of the Arctic Ocean) are at healthy, sustainable levels.

North Sea and Celtic Sea cod stocks are still endangered. The situation in the North Sea is so dire that scientists have advised that there should be no cod fishing in these waters. In addition, other stocks of the Gadidae family are also causing concern. Similar restricted fishing measures are expected to be suggested in the Celtic Sea.

Fish, once a cheap and easily sourced food, has become increasingly expensive. Suggested alternatives for cheaper meals are chicken, beans, pulses, eggs, mushrooms, and tofu.

Chicken and eggs are produced at speed on an industrial scale, but that’s a topic for another time.

The pond

 

The pond

This is the year of clearing the pond.

So was last year, and the year before, and the year before that, though other things took over and required more attention. This year, however, really is the year of the pond, and to prove it, waders have been purchased, to go alongside the long waterproof gloves, appropriately called ‘Pond gloves.’

                                        Note the integral boots!

                    Close-up of integral boots in their pristine state.

The sludge at the bottom of the pond, in which all sorts of beasties live and reproduce, will be removed and added to the garden to enrich the soil. Naturally, it will be left to drain beforehand so that they can make their escape before being sentenced to life on dry land. Rocks which have fallen into the water over the years will be retrieved and replaced around the edges of the pond. The water will be replaced, and the waterfalls will be reinstated to flow once more.

We have done all this before, but this time we promise ourselves that we will ‘keep on top of it.’ Mmm! We shall see. One of our daughters suggested filling in the pond, or at least part of it. This was met with horror and cries of, ‘Oh, no!’ (What’s that saying about the child being father to the man?)

                                            Lizard tail roots

                                    Lizard tail (Saururus cernuus)

The waders were given their inaugural dipping, and much of the tangle of lizard tail roots was pulled up. Many newts were displaced and replaced. So far, no frogs have been discovered, but we live in hopes.

A start has been made. It remains to be seen if our good intentions – and we have many of those in several areas of life – will be fulfilled.

There may, or may not, be periodic updates . . . 

Folly

 

Folly

The best plan is to profit by the folly of others.

Pliny the Elder (23/4 AD-79 AD)

 

The Pantheon at Stourhead was built in 1753-1754. It was inspired by the Pantheon in Rome.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Folly, from the French folie, is a synonym for foolishness, often involving poor judgement, or recklessness.

Was it folly that led to the fashion for constructing decorative but apparently purposeless buildings?

 Follies were frequently built in the grand gardens of English and French estates.

Some ancient estates had genuine ruins in their grounds, but others designed their own, as a romantic expression.

The fashion for follies began in the 16^th century, and by the 18^th century they were extremely popular. They took many forms, including exotic temples, ruined castles, and other unexpected manifestations. Some, in France for example, were romantic cottages and mills. Others found their inspiration in landscape paintings.

Follies are found across the world, but they are particularly numerous in the United Kingdom, which has thousands. However, England is known as the country in which more were built than anywhere else.

Famine Follies refers to the works built during the 1845-1849 Great Famine of Ireland. In an effort to provide relief for desperately impoverished people, projects were devised that would not take work away from existing workers. Famine follies included deliberately pointless structures like roads which went nowhere, piers built in bogs, and arches leading to nothing.