Nothing ventured

 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

This is similar in sentiment to the official SAS motto, ‘Who dares wins.’

It may have its origins in Ancient Greece, from Thucydides (c.460 BC to c.400 BC) the Athenian soldier and historian, who in his ‘History of the Peloponnesian War’ wrote ‘to those who dare, fortune is favourable’ or simply, ‘fortune favours the bold.’ (toîs tolmôsin hē túkhē xúmphoros)

It also matches the Latin ’maxim nil periculum’ meaning ‘no danger is too great’ or ‘no risk, no gain.’ It, and similar phrases, were popular across Europe by the 16th century. It first appeared in print in English in its current form in the late 18^th century.

An illustration of the saying can be found in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25, vv. 14-30) It is all too easy to waste one’s talents, or at least not develop them fully, particularly in our youth. Wisdom comes slowly to some, and to others not at all! Similarly, it is easy to remain within one’s comfort zone and not venture forth.

To make progress and achieve success, one must try new things and take a calculated risk.

Bananas in Pyjamas

Bananas in pyjamas

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 

Thinking about pyjamas reminded me of the children’s rhyme, ‘Bananas in pyjamas.’ It was the name of an Australian television series for young children which began broadcasting in July 1992.

It was inspired by the nonsense song written by Carey Blyton in 1967 (or 1969, depending on which source you trust.)

Bananas in Pyjamas

Are coming down the stairs

Bananas in Pyjamas

Are coming down in pairs

Bananas in Pyjamas

Are chasing Teddy Bears

'Cause on Tuesdays they all try to catch them unawares.

 

Carey Blyton’s aunt was the children’s writer, Enid Blyton. He was born in Beckenham, Kent where he attended grammar school. While there, he was interested in science, but music held no appeal for him. 

In 1948, when he was sixteen, he contracted poliomyelitis and learnt to play the piano during his recovery and convalescence. This ignited a lifelong interest in music and the foundation of his career.

 

In 1953 he entered Trinity College of Music, London and began training as a composer. During his four-year course he studied piano, harpsichord, and viola, as well as harmony, orchestration, and musical history.

In his subsequent work he wrote humorous songs, chamber music, and short orchestral scores, and lectured at Trinity College, London, and Guildhall School of Music and Drama. He was also Benjamin Britten’s personal music editor.

 Among other works, Carey Blyton wrote the incidental music for three Dr Who serials, and many books for children, including one called ‘Bananas in Pyjamas: a book of nonsense songs and poems.’ 

One of his last compositions was a string orchestra tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales, ‘Vale, Diana.’

He died in Woodbridge, Suffolk, in 2002, from cancer and post-polio syndrome. He was seventy.

Post-polio syndrome occurs in more than 80% of patients, presenting typically 15 to 30 years after the initial infection. It is a progressive condition, causing weakness, pain, loss of muscle strength and disabling fatigue.

Pairs

 

Pairs

A pair denotes two of something. A pair of socks – one for each foot; a pair of gloves, right and left, but a pair of spectacles, with a separate lens for each eye, is a single item. Similarly, a pair of tweezers or scissors or pliers are single implements, composed of two symmetrical parts.

A pair of knickers comprises two elements joined in the middle. Originally, knickers or ‘drawers’ were two leg coverings joined at the waist with buttons, ribbons, or laces. They were called drawers because they were drawn or pulled up over the legs (so why weren’t they called ‘pullers’?)

Trousers also originated as two tubes of material. Things that started as two elements but became one are ‘bifurcated’ items. They can be divided into two even parts.

Nightshirt

 

Nightshirt, pyjamas, or something (or nothing) else?

Image source

In the Middle Ages there were no underpants and vests.

A long shirt served as an undergarment for men. At the end of the day all apparel apart from the shirt was removed and it was worn in bed, for warmth and modesty.

As time progressed and underwear was developed, the shirt became specifically a garment for nightwear. Traditionally, it was ankle length with long sleeves and was frequently accompanied by a nightcap, essential on chilly winter nights to preserve body warmth.

During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, British men returning to home shores from India brought with them examples of pyjamas. Pyjama, deriving from the Persian and Hindustani ‘pay-jama’ or ‘pai jama,’ and meaning ‘leg clothing,’ were loose-fitting trousers intended as casual lounge wear.

Towards the second half of the nineteenth century, nightshirts were being replaced by pyjamas. Following the issue of pyjamas to serving soldiers in the First World War, the two-part pyjama set became men’s standard nightwear in the 1930s.

Fashions change and the twentieth century saw the decline of traditional pyjamas in favour of boxer shorts and tee shirts or similar as nightwear. However, some men continue to favour the nightshirt, regarding it as convenient and comfortable.

Others prefer to wear nothing in bed.

 

Jellicoe

 

Jellicoe

Our brave little cat died last Thursday morning.

Kittenish!

In his almost fourteen years of life, he won the hearts of all who met him, not just family and friends but also the professionals who dealt with him. He adored people and rewarded their attention with rich purrs and headbutts. Though armed with needle-sharp teeth and claws he never bit or scratched, even when undergoing undignified treatment requiring him to be restrained. He simply purred.

Enjoying Gilbert's warmth

When he wasn’t sitting on a human lap he was tucked up with dogs, grooming them.

The literary cat

Four and a half years ago he was diagnosed with diabetes. This condition can be difficult to manage in cats and Jellicoe’s case was particularly tricky, resulting in him having several stays in veterinary hospital. Every time he had a crisis we thought he was not going to survive and every time he proved us, and his vets, wrong. He was known to our vets as ‘One Of A Kind.’

This time it was not to be. His heart and kidneys had started to fail and treatment for one exacerbated the other and so we sadly let him go painlessly and peacefully to sleep.

Making sure Gilbert doesn't go anywhere!

It should feel strange without him, and we certainly miss his protestations that it must surely be time for a meal, but somehow it seems as though he’s still here with us. He was such a character and met and charmed two new people just the day before he died.

 Now perhaps it’s time for Herschel to emerge from Jellicoe’s shadow and enjoy his moment in the spotlight, just as Jellicoe did when their brother Isambard died.

The brothers, Jellicoe, Isambard (foreground) and Herschel.

Herschel has always been responsive, but is it our imagination that he is chatting more than ever? He is becoming accustomed to a new routine, with just two meals a day rather than the four we had to provide for Jellicoe.

A basket of kittens

Barry has often remarked that Herschel, Isambard, and Jellicoe were the best birthday presents he has ever had. They have certainly provided years of memorable entertainment and companionship.

Up, up, and away

 

Up, up, and away

Why do birds fly upwards when escaping from confinement?

The clearest answer is that gaining height is an instinctive response to danger from predators. Most threats originate from ground level, though there are exceptions. For example, the sparrowhawk ambushes weaker, smaller birds on the ground, when they are feeding, or when they are flying.

Flying up increases the chance of creating distance between predator and prey.

Small birds flap their wings rapidly to push air down against the ground or their perch, and that creates lift. Larger birds drop down from cliff tops or tree perches, then flap their wings to maintain height. Some, like swans and geese run along the water surface to gather speed then take off, often into the wind.

 

Jigsaw

I’ve just completed a 1000-piece jigsaw. I don’t know if it’s accurately 1,000 pieces or just an approximation. I didn’t count the pieces, nor do I intend to. Having reached the end, almost, I found that three pieces were missing. It may be that the cats found their way into the dining room, where they’re not usually allowed, and knocked a couple of pieces to the floor.

Maybe the missing parts will appear eventually, and maybe they won’t. I’m not going to worry about them.

Jigsaw puzzles first appeared in the second half of the 18^th century. Around 1760 John Spilsbury, a British mapmaker, pasted a map of Europe onto wood and cut round the countries’ borders, for it to serve as a geographical visual aid. This original version was known as a ‘dissection’ or a ‘dissected map.’ Such maps were manufactured for the children of wealthy families.

 The name ‘jigsaw’ was adopted from the middle of the 19^th century because a jigsaw was the tool used to cut the pieces. Fretsaws or scroll saws were other tools used.  Why were the puzzles called jigsaws and not fretsaws or scroll saws?

They were known as jigsaw puzzles from 1906 and became an adult obsession in the following years. Jigsaws grew in popularity throughout the 20^th century with the advent of cheaper cardboard puzzles. They became particularly prevalent during the Great Depression of 1929 to 1939 (1941 in the USA) 

This global economic downturn was caused by strict trade tariffs, stock speculation, the collapse of banks, and mismanagement of agriculture. Called the ‘devil’s decade’ in UK, it resulted in loss of industry and mass unemployment which ended with the commencement of the Second World War.

There was a resurgent interest in jigsaws during the Covid Pandemic, when people were restricted in their activities and thrown back on their own resources.

Modern jigsaws take a variety of forms, from simple wooden puzzles for very young children, to three-dimensional constructions. As with all hobbies there are dedicated enthusiasts whose entire lives seem to revolve around their interest. The annual World Jigsaw Puzzle Championships have been conducted since 2019. 

Tapping

 

Suddenly there came a tapping

 ‘. . . suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door'

 Lines from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, ‘The Raven.'

It is commonplace for one or other of the cats to sit in front of a wood burner, though usually only when it’s alight. We were concerned to discover that Herschel had taken up position by the conservatory fire a few days ago and wondered if he was feeling quite well. There was no fire in the grate and no apparent need for him to be there.

He hopped over the fire guard with no problem when we called him, so it was clear there was nothing wrong with him. His attention was still focused on the fire, however, and soon we heard the tapping that must have alerted him. 

                                           Great tit (Parus major)

Behind the door, which looks like glass but is actually ceramic, a little bird was desperately pecking in an attempt to escape. We made sure the conservatory door to the kitchen was shut and opened the doors and windows to the garden. When we opened the fire door a rather dusty great tit flew out in panic. Birds always seem to fly up when trying to escape and this little chap flew up to the cross bar and sat, beak agape, to gather his senses.

After several minutes, Barry wielded a large net to guide the little bird towards one of the windows, and he exited to sit among the leaves of a low-growing shrub.

chimney cowl 

Birds searching for insects seek under the chimney cowl and sometimes find themselves unable to find their way out. It happens rarely. We had a blue tit in the fireplace many years ago which made its exit safely into the world again.

                    Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) and Great tit

We now check the fire regularly to ensure there are no prisoners trapped in it.

B was a book

     

Edward Lear’s Nonsense Alphabet

                        B was a book                                    

With a binding of blue,

And pictures and stories

                                            For me and for you.                                             

Nice little book!

Blue appears in story titles, like William Boyd’s ‘The Blue Afternoon,’ G.K. Chesterton’s book introducing Father Brown, ’The Blue Cross,’ and in poems like Robert Frost’s  ‘Blueberries,’ and ‘The Bluebell’ by Emily Brontë. In children’s literature there is Dr Seuss’s ‘One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,’ and the nursery rhymes, ‘Lavender’s blue,’ and ‘Little Boy Blue.’

For a while, there was a popular UK reading scheme in the 1960s from Sheila K. McCullagh based on ‘The Village with Three Corners.’ The residents were Roger Red-hat, Billy Blue-hat, and Johnny Yellow-hat, and their associated friends and relatives. I always wondered why Johnny Yellow-hat didn’t have a first name beginning with Y. He could have been Yorick (Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio) 

I found it quite difficult to engage with the Three Corner Villagers, but they were preferable to Dick and Dora, or Peter and Jane, or Janet and John. It seems that a new reading scheme is published every few years, with much the same format, but different names. They are a mixture of ‘Look and Say’ and phonetic texts. At least the stories are more relatable now.

      Can you remember the books that helped you learn to read? I can't.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Formic acid

 

Formic acid

It is not just ants that produce formic acid. It is found in other insects, plants, fruit, and vegetables. Pineapple has 0.32 mg formic acid per 100 g, while apples have 2mg per 100 g. Onions have 45 mg per 100 g - no wonder our eyes stream when we slice these humble but essential vegetables.

Ants use the acid, which they squirt from their abdomens, to dissuade birds and spiders, as well as larger animals, from attacking them. Formic acid is used as a natural antiseptic to clean an ant nest and the eggs within it. It helps to prevent the spread of disease. Some ants, like the Carpenter ants, bite their victim and then spread or drench acid into the punctures to prevent it moving or kill it.

In similar vein, ants swallow minute amounts of formic acid to kill any harmful bacteria they may have ingested.

Since the second half of the twentieth century, as a by-product of acetic acid production, it has been found useful in livestock feed for its preservative and antibacterial properties.

Beekeepers use it against destructive mites in bee colonies. It is also used in limescale removers, leather tanning and the production of rubber.

Other potential uses involve the production of biomass – ‘renewable organic material derived from living or recently living plants, animals, and microorganisms’ - and as an instrument of hydrogen storage.

The humble ant, like so many minor organisms, has provided much of value to the wider world.

A was an ant

 

A was an ant

A was an ant

Who seldom stood still,

And who made a nice house

In the side of a hill.

Nice little ant!

(from an illustrated alphabet poem by Edward Lear)

How many times do we curse these industrious little creatures when they find their way into our homes and despoil our food? For once they have laid their trail, their fellows will follow it relentlessly, laughing with their tiny ant stridulations at our feeble efforts to deter them.

A mediaeval name for the ant is ‘pissemire,’ originating from ‘pisse,’ meaning urine, and ‘mire,’ an old Scandinavian word for ant (‘myre’ in Danish, ‘myra’ in Swedish)

Literally, pismire means urinating ant. It is associated with the pungent aroma of anthills saturated with the formic acid ants secrete.

Pismire was used pejoratively. An ant is small and insignificant, so to call someone a pismire was to draw attention to their worthlessness.

The modern form of pismire is pissant.

‘Emmet’ is another name for an ant. The emmet is presented in heraldry as a signifier of industry and wisdom. In 1610, John Guillim of the English College of Arms wrote: ‘By the Emmet or Pismire may be signified a Man of great Labour, Wisdom, and Providence in all his Affairs, and of a pregnant and ready Memory.’

Emmet is also a Cornish (UK) dialectical word for tourists or incomers. Incomers are people who were not born in the county but have moved to live there.

 

AI and recipes

 

AI and recipes

Barry has taken over culinary duties, to my relief. All I have to do is order the ingredients and that I can do easily. He enjoys cooking, which I don’t. He is officially diabetic, recently confirmed, though working to reverse it, and knowing his determination, he will achieve his aim.

He also has a renal problem, so food that is good for one condition is not necessarily appropriate for the other. AI has proved useful in providing suitable recipes.

He started counting calories in a bid to lose more weight to counter the diabetes, though he is by no means heavy, weighing only around two stone more than when he was a fit young man of twenty.

I’ve joined him in calorie counting, just for curiosity. It’s amazing to discover just how many calories there are in the simplest things.

AI is not foolproof and must be checked for accuracy. 

Hello!

 

Hello!

Hello! (Waves tentatively from the sidelines.)

Apologies for my absence – overtaken by events, so to speak.

Writing is rather like exercising. It can be satisfying if you keep going, but difficult to start again when you stop.  Anyway, nothing ventured, nothing gained, (such a useless platitude) after several false starts I have resumed.

Our house has filled up again for the time being, with Susannah, Frankie, Arthur and the three cats, Solomon, Lenny, and Zula. They will stay with us until their London flat is sold and a house bought locally.

Yesterday, the chimney sweep came to sweep our sitting room burner. It has been a long time since our chimney received any professional attention and that became evident the longer he worked. He spent a couple of hours vacuuming, filling his machine with the quantity of soot he normally collects in sweepings from several houses. Next time, he will look at the conservatory fire, but that is rarely used, and easier to deal with. It has a straight flue, unlike the sitting room, whose flue is kinked. It’s the original chimney from when the house was built seventy years ago. Anyway, all is well now and we have celebrated with the first fire of the season.

Today, the boiler is being serviced. Winter fast approaches, though to listen to *Weatherlink, one would be fooled into thinking it is still high summer, since we were informed that today the temperature would reach 35º C (95º F)!  Weatherlink needs to be adjusted, obviously.

                                                                                             

From AI:  *WeatherLink is a cloud-based weather platform, mobile app, and hardware ecosystem created by Davis Instruments that lets you view, store, share, and analyse live and historical data from personal weather stations.

I shall now go for a wander round blogworld!