67. Bangers, squibs and bonfires.

Back in the olden days when I was yet a teenager, Halloween, as we now celebrate it, was a much lower key affair. Pumpkins had not found their way across the pond and turnip lanterns did the the same job, being hollowed-out with carved faces, a stump of a candle and string long enough to prevent burnt little fingers. ‘Trick or treat,’ like Hogmanay was more of a Scottish thing, but that didn’t stop us Geordies taking advantage. Yes we went knocking on neighbours’ doors to be rewarded with sweets although I have no recollection of any ‘tricks’ being performed.

Guy Fawkes Night: now that was something special! Each locality usually had a piece of spare ground where a bonfire could be built. Wood of every kind, from trees to old wardrobes was collected for weeks in anticipation and a bonfire erected on the site. Sometimes groups from another area would steal our ‘bonna’ which in turn involved raiding parties to steal it back. I have a vague recollection of parents guarding the bonfires as the date (November 5th) approached and I don’t remember anyone’s ‘bonna’ being set alight before it should have been. The ceremonial lighting duly took place as dusk fell and large crowds of parents and children turned out to see it.

Fireworks played as important a role as the bonfire itself. Very young children always had ‘sparklers’. I don’t know whether they still exist in these health and safety times, but they are/were a thin metal rod coated with a chemical which got very hot and produced sparks to the delight of the very young. Everybody bought as many fireworks as they could afford, and either brought them to share around the bonfire or in there own yard or garden. Several/most fireworks were quite dangerous and were banned long ago, Oohing and aahing was brought on by Volcanoes, Catherine Wheels and Roman Candles, which, when nailed to a fence or placed on the ground, produced bursts and plumes of ‘sparks’ of many colours high in the air. Bangers were a boy’s favourite: they were miniature versions of what the army now call flash-bangs. They were available at various prices, the dearer, the louder the bang and more dangerous, I guess. The instructions were to ‘light the blue touch paper and retire’, but it was much more daring to hold it in your hand and throw it in the air at the last moment, drop it down a drain, under a metal dustbin lid and ……… you can see where it became necessary to ban them. Rockets were launched from glass milk bottles or some equivalent, but didn’t always go upwards. I recall one entering our neighbour’s kitchen and landing in a box of unused fireworks. Although it was rapidly thrown out of the door, that soon brought the event to a close, luckily without anyone being hurt. Squibs: were a sort of rocket without a stick and were laid flat on the ground and could shoot off anywhere you pointed it. Jumping-Jacks surely must have disappeared. They were a sort of zig-zag held in place with string; when the ubiquitous blue touch paper was ignited there were a serious of bangs, one after another, with the firework leaping off the ground after each explosion. Good for making the girls squeal, as I recall.

Every Guy Fawkes Night, these days, is preceded by TV advertising of the dangers, with graphic images of injuries and although there must have been some back in our day, I was never aware of them. Surely, if it is accepted that they are so dangerous, they should not be sold in supermarkets as they are. Public displays are never far away and it’s not as if life would not go on without lighting your own blue touch paper.

66. Nobody teaches you to shave.

As a child I used to watch my father shave in the kitchen. He insisted on freshly boiled water in an enamel bowl (no plastics then), a shaving-brush and a shaving-soap ‘stick’ with an old style double sided blade. The steel razor with the screw-in handle has now become trendy again. He was fussy about his blades, which were in short supply after the war and could usually only be bought singly. Gillette were the only brand I remember, and they came in blue or red waxed wrapping, depending in the thickness. I cannot remember which was his preference, but there was often no choice in the shop.

I remember too that he had a ‘Rolls Razor‘. This was a double-sided metal box with an ingenious single sided blade which could be pulled from end to end to sharpen the edge. The top and bottom if the box were sharpening stones, one coarse and one fine. One side was removed for the other side to become the active surface. If I haven’t explained it well then there are lots of videos on the web. It all seems very clever, but since I can now shave in under 5 minutes, it all seems a bit of a faff. I seem to recall that dad did not use it for long.

Which brings me back to my theme that watching him shave was my only lesson in shaving. Your first shave is a right of passage for any young adolescent and results in cuts, scrapes and countless bits of toilet tissue to soak up the blood long before the stubble became more than ‘bum-fluff’ and the whole process becoming necessary anyhow.

Electric razors appeared in the 50s and my first experience was in a barber’s shop where you could hire one for a nominal sum while waiting to have your hair cut. It was more a sense of adventure than anything else, I suspect, as I was probably not far beyond the ‘bum-fluff’ stage then. I have no recollection of hygiene and suspect that acne was happily passed along the line.

I must digress at this point to wonder why barbers, back then, had a box marked ‘sterilizer’ where they sometimes kept their combs: nits?, dandruff? scabies?

I eventually graduated to my own electric razor. It was a mains-powered Remington, where a set of semi-circular cutters oscillated behind a thin metal, perforated sheet. I worked quite well unless you pressed too hard so the cutters touched the skin; and then it ‘burned’

I never got to grips with the rotary blade types which now seem to dominate the market. Of course they all use rechargeable batteries, can be used underwater and cost a fortune, but still only do a poorer job than a new sharp blade, IMO

I returned to ‘wet’ shaving many years ago, graduating through the sequence of disposables, two-blade to the five blade I use now. I use shaving oil so I can see what I am doing, but hairs grow from places they never used to so out comes the trusty styptic pencil and torn-off bits of toilet tissue.

65. ‘Good’ Friday

On returning from the supermarket this morning it occurred to me that, perhaps for the first time, that the opening hours were as a weekday i.e. not even the restricted times of a normal Sunday.

When I was young, Good Friday was the day of the ‘Parade of Witness’. Members of the, then, many non-conformist churches in the borough, assembled in Northumberland Square and processed throughout the town accompanied by The Salvation Army and other bands, viewed by the locals, who lined the streets along the way. Finally a service brought the event to its conclusion.

Of course this was largely ignored by the C of E and Roman Catholic communities, but they knew that it dated back to times when going to church on a Sunday was compulsory and could be punished by fines or time in the ‘stocks’, examples of which may be seen here.

At the time of ‘The Commonwealth’ that law was repealed, but reinstated at the time of Charles II. Later it became modified to attendance twice a year with particular emphasis on Easter Sunday, Indeed although this was ignored in later years, it was never repealed until 1969. People much younger than myself will have memories of being asked “What are you giving up for Lent” where I fancy many had no idea what ‘Lent’ was except it was ‘good’ to give up something you enjoyed at that time of year.

The Procession of Witness still takes place in the centre of North Shields after a short service in ‘The Square’, but a much less dramatic form than it used to be.

Beyond ‘hot cross buns’, chocolate Easter eggs and the first school holiday of the year, I doubt many people know, or care, about the religious meaning of Easter in this country, and those who do become fewer and fewer.

64. Signs of the times

The original intention of this blog was to document past events that might otherwise be forgotten. Recently, however, I have tended to concentrate on developments during the Covid-19 pandemic. This has taken my attention away from other developments in the wider world, while Covid itself seems to have settled in the background in a similar way to flu.

The internet and the smartphone have become the default means of communication between people, a means of people expressing their view and feelings, and the growing way to pay for things. Indeed, I have not used notes or coins or even my debit card to pay for goods or services for, perhaps, up to a year.

Russia has attacked Ukraine; China threatens to invade Taiwan while Joe Public cheerfully taps away on his/her smartphone, moaning about the increase in the price of energy which has resulted from the Russian debacle. The fact that they are moaning via a mobile phone which cost hundreds of pounds does not seem ironic to them.

More later

63. Family memories (or not)?

I have just become a great-grandfather for the first time and it got me thinking. I have only ever had the vaguest memory of the faces of my grandparents when I knew them. My paternal grandfather died before I was born, and when I checked, I discovered that the remaining three grandparents died in successive years 1956, ’57 and ’58. I was in my mid-teens then, and recall many occasions when they were present; I have photos of them with their spouses and families, but very few taken in my lifetime.

Looking through my vast collections of my family photos I have full documentation of my children and grandchildren and already I have enough of my great-granddaughter (born a week ago), to start an album. Because I took most of those photos of my own children, I appear in very few of them and would like to think they have some of me (and their mother)

Photos now are free due to the ubiquitous cameras and phones we all possess, but most of mine are on a desktop hard-drive where they could disappear into cyberspace at the whim of the internet gods. (Note to self – put them on the cloud/dvd/flash-drive or even print them out for once)

Photos of long departed kinfolk have some interest of course and we are all related to Charlemagne, but to have forgotten the faces of people who made us and who we knew when they were alive seems rather sad.

62. What to do? #CV22

All legal Covid restrictions regarding masks and social distancing, except for the wearing of masks in surgeries and hospitals, have been removed. However the number of people suffering from the effects of the virus is as high as it has ever been; indeed in other countries it is even higher than before. Members of my family have contracted the virus for the first time; true they have been in public places, but that is allowed and it still concerns me. I believe the symptoms are ‘milder’ although those who have told me, they say it is not a pleasant experience. People have been advised to use their own judgement, but of course the mask protects other people and those choosing not to wear them in confined spaces are putting other people in danger and not themselves!

My wife is usually the only person in her hairdressers wearing a mask; we both wear masks in a supermarket, along with many others, and on entering restaurants until seated. I see the wearing of the mask more as a sign that Covid19 has not gone away and at my advanced age I cannot afford to take the risk of ignoring it.

61. I am a dinosaur

I read a lot; I write a bit, type a lot and talk very little these days, although talking was my job for 40 years.

I have no memory of how I learned to read, but my children were reading before they started school. We taught them using ‘Flash Cards’. These consisted of a graduated set of cards, initially showing words of one syllable which were shown to the child with the parent saying the word at the same time. I suspect that I was taught one letter at a time a (aa), b (bu), c (cu) and A (Ay), B (Bee), C (See), which method we also used to augment the flash cards as I recall. There have been many schemes over the years to teach reading in a different way, but they have passed both me and my children by.

Having no memory or personal experience of the inability to read makes it difficult to understand. In an earlier post I mentioned that my maternal grandfather could not read, but managed to conceal it so well that I did not know until reading my mother’s notes after she died. I am aware of terms like dyslexia, but have no concept of what it really ‘feels like’ as opposed to the clinical definition. Indeed a former headmaster, I worked for, an English specialist, never believed that the condition existed.

This morning I rose before dawn as this article was going round in my brain so I could not sleep. In order not to wake my wife, gently snoring in the bed next to me, I dressed in complete darkness and, perhaps with this still in my mind I thought about those who are blind and cannot read as I do. Some people, blind from birth will never know the joy of the written word and others, who lose their sight will know what a great loss it must be. However, in my case, learning to read lit the touch-paper as described in the last article.

Writing: where to start? Although I could probably write before going to primary school, it would have been ‘printing’ in much like the computer font Comic Sans. Indeed I have a letter I wrote as a child, in pencil, of course; even I am not old enough to have used chalk on a slate, although my parents may well have done. The next stage was what we called ‘real-writing’; my children called it ‘joined-up writing’ although I believe the correct term is ‘cursive’. In my case the accepted style was ‘copperplate’ which these days seems to be the preserve of calligraphers and old people. The teaching page was ruled with sets of three horizontal lines: the middle line being the height of the small (whoever had heard of lower case?) letters. The letters leaned slightly forward and woe betide anyone whose letters leaned backwards (backhand). Nobody other than printers had heard of fonts.

In my post #17 I referred to the (dip) pen and ink, but I’ll paraphrase it here to save you looking for it.. The pen in question was a metal ‘nib’ in a wooden stick, which was dipped into an inkwell integrated into the writing desk. It was barely a step forward from the quill of former times. The pen was cheap and difficult to learn to use as to press too lightly produced barely a scratch and to press too hard resulted in a bent nib and a pool of ink. Inky fingers were the look of the day. We all looked forward to getting a present of a fountain-pen, which I described earlier in the blog, but was simply a nib-pen with a built-in refillable reservoir. Some models fetch high prices in modern auctions.

The most exciting Christmas present I ever received was a ball-point pen. I can remember it even now. It was blue, hexagonal and had a top with a metal clip, just like the fountain-pens it was about to replace. I found it hidden on the top shelf of a cupboard where it was hidden and sneaked out every night just to look at it. Such anticipation! It was known generically as a Biro (after its inventor) , but later became the BIC we all know and lose. Of course it leaked and smudged, but I was the first in my class. Oh joy!

Sadly, hardly anyone ‘writes’ anymore, except on shopping lists and Christmas/birthday cards. Even they are moving to the cyber-world. Typing is another thing, but the mechanical keyboard itself is competing with the touch screen. Perhaps because the letters on a mobile touch screen are smaller than the average finger or because a text message may only use 160 characters, there has evolved a new form of messaging where letters replace words e.g. R U OK? This as you would expect has aroused the ire of those even more pedantic than I, that the world as we know it is going to hell in a handcart. To use ‘texting’ in a text message is fine by me, but not otherwise if you don’t mind. However I do admit to using acronyms from time to time. They are OK IMO.

Spelling is a whole new can of worms. Since the arrival of Microsoft Windows and Apple computers, American spelling has become commonplace because the dictionary and the spellcheck or the language of the keyboard has not been re-set to the UK version.  It should automatically sense the country of installation, but that is not always so, certainly on mobile phones. I would rather someone spelled (or is it spelt?) something incorrectly than gave up ‘writing’, but there is no good reason why most people should ignore a spelling checker: it’s just rude or lazy. As a physicist I seethe when I see focussed with double ss, when even in the US it is focused, yet I notice that the spellcheck on my UK version of ‘Word’ has not picked that up.

Don’t get me going on pronunciation. I have my idea of how I expect things to be pronounced and the reasons for it e.g. a see-saw is a lever (leever) yet the US talk of leverage as levverage (as in ever). I have no problem with that except although I understand that a British programme hoping for sales in the US uses that pronunciation, why then is the BBC newsreader pronouncing it incorrectly! For me a kilometre is a kilo-meter and not a kilommeter and I defy anyone to stop me shouting at the TV!

I’ll finish with punctuation, because at this point I might just burst into flames. I received, through the letterbox, a while back, a magazine produced by my local North Tyneside Council. The covering introduction did not contain any punctuation beyond full-stops and capital letters. It was almost unreadable. As a scientist/mathematician the precision of language is important to me. I spoke in my last post about reading ‘other’ books when I run out of fiction and my ‘go to’ is ‘Eats, Shoots and Leaves’ by Lynne Truss. I know I tend to over punctuate, but the comma is your friend. It keeps ideas apart and allows your brain to breathe as you read. Chuck in a semicolon when you need a super-comma, or a full colon if you are making a list, but they are the icing on the cake and you can live without them. As for ‘speech marks’ or inverted commas; the “double” inverted comma seems to be on the way out except when directly highlighting something which is being said or quoting from it. Wait for it …… wait for it – The APOSTROPHE has arrived! You may not need it, some authorities have abolished it, but I love it. I don’t mean the one that I just used instead of writing do not 11 words ago, I mean the possessive apostrophe that has become known as the Greengrocer’s (or should that be Greengrocers’) apostrophe because of signs saying apples’ today or banana’s reduced. ‘If in doubt miss it out’ like a local hotel near me calling itself Commissioners Quay. If you need to use it, the rule is simple: the singular is John’s shoes; the plural is housewives’ choice and the exception is James’s because James is not a plural..

That’s it for now. I doubt that my journalist daughter will agree with much of this, but they live in a different world and I cannot see it from here (misquote).

60. Books and libraries

I am a reader. There has been no time in my life since learning to read, that I was not actively reading a book (and sometimes more than one).

The subject of the books has varied over time, but, when young, I recall reading all the Sherlock Holmes stories, that I could get access to. Recently I have read 200 consecutive books by James Patterson, followed by similar titles in the mystery/murder/detective/spy genre. However that has been interspersed by period studying all I could find on World War 1, local history or coal mining. It really doesn’t matter as if I complete a book before bedtime then I will turn to the bookcase for a non-fiction that I have not read for some time.

I never knowingly read fiction books more than once although it has happened and I have only realised part-way through. Having read, so many books by a single author I have had to keep a record, and the computer is ideal for this.

You may think that I must have a large collection, but in fact ~99% of all the books I have read belonged to local libraries. From the earliest Junior Library membership and whatever part of the country I have lived, I have been a member of a local library.

Libraries were not always public and if you visit cathedrals and country houses you may see books chained to the shelves or behind locked doors as they were so valuable. However public lending libraries, like museums, really did not appear in this country until the mis-1800s. Of course, further back in history, very few people could read, so scribes and clerics read, and wrote, on their behalf and ,of course, may not always have told the truth!

Being able to read is one thing; having the wherewithal to purchase a book was another and there the library did, and still does, serve the purpose for many people. Libraries gave people access to much more than books. Lectures by erudite travellers and social commentators were held in places like this and still are. My local library still holds talks, but it also houses various local government departments a café, accessible computers and a large reference section, of, particularly, local history.

In my youth, newspapers where held on large ‘easels’ in my local library for public access. In my riverside town that was particularly important as ‘shipping’ newspapers chronicled the comings and goings of all marine vessels. People like ‘news’ and although there is far too much of it on TV now, the newspapers and originally pamphlets were sold on the streets by vendors crying out the name of the newspaper or the headlines designed to catch the ear, and thus the attention, of the passer-by. World-shattering events like wars and local football results often resulted with reprints and hastily added ‘stop press’ at the end. It seems strange to me now that two newspapers, one on green paper and the other on pink were hawked around the streets on a Saturday evening simply containing reports of that afternoon’s football games.

During the recent Covid-19 pandemic, libraries were closed for a time. To a bibliophile like me that was a major crisis. I could, of course, have downloaded books to my ‘tablet’ or pc, but I like the touch and look of print on paper and resorted to paperbacks from the local supermarket, which had shrewdly spotted a gap in the market, or maybe they were there all the time and I didn’t notice.

The libraries are open again and, such is the power of the computer that, I don’t have to scour the shelves of my local branch, as their entire catalogue is online along with that of all other branches in the local authority. I can search and reserve tiles from the comfort of my home and collect when they become available,

Sorry I must end now as I am nearly finished my latest tome and I have three more waiting.

59. It’s all gone quiet CV#21

We are in quiet period, where the virus is, in fact, raging through the population, but it seems to be accepted. Plan B is still in operation. As I said in my last post, this includes shops, restaurants and public transport, but not pubs and outdoor events. Two of my friends have contracted the disease in pubs and another at a football match. Fortunately they have only suffered the equivalent of a nasty dose of flu-like symptoms which cleared within a week, but I wonder whether it was worth it for a pint or two of beer and to see Newcastle United lose yet again. Members of my family in other parts of the UK have suffered similarly and is it to be accepted that this is the look of the future. On the other hand newspapers and TV tell of hospitals full to overflowing, increased/increasing death toll and cancelled operations.

Because of the effect of a more drastic shutdown on business and the industry there is little more that the government can do so the it will go on going on until events force otherwise or the disease becomes endemic like flu and we learn to accept regular vaccinations and period outbreaks.

It is interesting to a student of human nature to see people wearing masks when not obliged to, not wearing masks when they should be, and observing social distancing while passing folk in the street. I do wonder, how many people wash their mask after each use or discard their disposable one? Off to wash my hands.

58. Omigod – Omicron CV#20

Apparently a Covid variant christened ‘Omicron’ has arrived, originating from South Africa.

Because it seems to be more transmittable, the usual panic has run through the newspaper headlines. The government is ‘between a rock and a hard-place’, in that the ideal solution is lockdown, but Christmas is looming with the obvious effect that would have on the retail and hospitality sectors.

The compromise is called ‘Plan B’. Masks have been made compulsory in places where people are in close proximity i.e shops and on public transport, yet pubs remain unaffected! Because two vaccinations and a booster jab seem to be providing 70% protection then a ‘Covid passport’ showing that the holder has had all three is proposed for large musical gatherings and clubs. This is not popular, both with the young and some Tory politicians. The availability of the booster ‘jab’ has thus far been limited to certain (older) age groups, but this has been lowered resulting in long queues and shortages of both vaccines and testing kits.