Saturday 31 December 2022

Welcome to the World of Tomorrow!

As we arrive at the final day of 2022 we naturally find ourselves looking to the future. What will 2023 hold for us? And where will we all be in 10, 20, 50 years time?

So-called 'Futurologists' do this for a living. Sometimes they get it right. Sometimes they get it blisteringly wrong. In the 1950s, they thought everything in the 21st century would be atomic-powered. In the 1960s, they thought everything would be plastic and we'd all be space tourists by now.

Even respected scientists and writers made some duff prognostications. Take the late great Isaac Asimov, for example. I have massive respect for the man. But an essay he wrote in 1964, predicting what life would be like in 2014, stated that: 

'Men (sic) will continue to withdraw from nature in order to create an environment that will suit them better. By 2014, electroluminescent panels will be in common use. Ceilings and walls will glow softly, and in a variety of colours that will change at the touch of a push button. Windows need be no more than an archaic touch, and even when present will be polarised to block out the harsh sunlight.' 


Hmmm. What sort of environment would 'suit us better' than the planet on which we, and every other living thing, evolved? Would people prefer to live in man-made environments? We're now an urban species with more people living in larger towns than in rural communities but that's more because of necessity than desire. It's where the work is. But it's notable that, if people have the money, they often choose to 'escape' to the countryside. Meanwhile, those who live in the city - by choice or otherwise - have demanded the renewal of green spaces and a reduction in pollution. The waiting list for an allotment can be hundreds of people in length. In many cities there are tax concessions for people driving greener electric vehicles and architects work hard to allow as much natural 'harsh' sunlight into buildings as possible. 

Being connected to the natural world makes us feel better - it's no secret that it's the houses with the best views that cost the most. But it's also a fact that people in hospital rooms with a view recover more quickly than those in rooms that don't. As science is now discovering, a connection with nature is a fundamental need and is essential to our long-term mental and physical well-being. It's notable that the rise in mental health problems can be plotted fairly accurately against the rise of urban living (although many other factors are at play, of course). I highly recommend Florence Williams' book  The Nature Fix (see here) if you want to know more about how exposure to the natural world can help us live more healthily. 

Asimov also suggested that: 'Suburban houses underground, with easily controlled temperature, free from the vicissitudes of weather, with air cleaned and light controlled, should be fairly common.' 

Thankfully, they're not. They're the sole preserve of the sorts of people who spend their money building quirky houses to feature on Grand Designs. Who wants to live underground away from fresh air and natural sunlight? That said, there's no good reason why service buildings - places like shopping malls, gyms, doctors' surgeries etc., where people only spend a part of their lives, couldn't be built underground. It would free up land that could be turned over to green open-air spaces. 

And, on that subject of shops and amenities, it's no secret that our High Streets are dying due to online shopping and home delivery. The shops that sold things like clothing, shoes and books are vanishing and, in their place, we're seeing things like tattoo parlours and nail bars offering services you can't order via the internet. So why not green the High Streets? Pedestrianise them, fill them with oxygen-creating plants, wonderful art and water features. Let the cafes spill out on the streets and create open air dining spots. Create a place that people want to visit to socialise, get a hair cut, grab a good coffee and get their nails done. It's not rocket science.


Asimov did start to hit a few home runs by suggesting that: 'Gadgetry will continue to relieve mankind of tedious jobs.'  However, he also suggested that: 

'Kitchen units will be devised that will prepare 'automeals,' heating water and converting it to coffee; toasting bread; frying, poaching or scrambling eggs, grilling bacon, and so on. Breakfasts will be 'ordered' the night before to be ready by a specified hour the next morning.' 

We do now have programmable cookers, microwaves, air fryers and many other gadgets. But, as the preponderance of cookery, baking and grow-your-own TV shows suggests, we don't all see it as a chore. We still like to cook. And we really like to entertain. If one fact emerges strongly from the many books I've read about good mental health and building strong communities it's that humans need to gather together in meaningful social groups. And the dining room table is the original social network. A book I strongly recommend you read is Dr David Bramwell's The No.9 Bus to Utopia (see here). He spent a year travelling the world in search of the perfect, happy, healthy community. I won't spoil the story but I will say that the happiest groups were always those that ate together and had meaningful face-to-face conversations

Asimov knew a thing or two about robots and he predicted that, 'Robots will neither be common nor very good in 2014, but they will be in existence.' If he means a humanoid companion, he's right. But robots are actually very commonplace and we employ thousands of them for everything from building cars to handling radioactive materials to mowing our lawns. He does however, rightly suggest that 'It will be [...] computers, much miniaturised, that will serve as the 'brains' of robots'. He's edging here towards the concept of Artificial Intelligence (AI) of which we will speak more in a moment.


On the subject of energy, Asimov believed that: 

'The appliances of 2014 will have no electric cords, of course, for they will be powered by long-lived batteries running on radioisotopes. The isotopes will not be expensive for they will be by- products of the fission-power plants which, by 2014, will be supplying well over half the power needs of humanity. And an experimental fusion-power plant or two will already exist in 2014.' 

I'm afraid not, Isaac. While we do have nuclear fission power plants, their by-products are incredibly hazardous and really shouldn't be used to power our electric toothbrushes. Meanwhile, we are still looking into nuclear fusion as a source of power and, very recently, we took another small step towards it becoming a reality (see here). 

However, we're still a long way off and we need to be looking at other clean forms of energy in the meantime. Frustratingly the technology exists right now to harness the inexhaustible supply of free wind, solar, tidal and geothermal energy that nature provides. But, sadly, the political will doesn't. Asimov predicted that 'Large solar-power stations will also be in operation in a number of desert and semi-desert areas'. We are moving in that direction but all too slowly, sadly. 

And talking of moving ...


When it comes to transport, he quite literally went off the rails: 

'There will be increasing emphasis on transportation that makes the least possible contact with the surface. There will be aircraft, of course, but even ground travel will increasingly take to the air a foot or two off the ground.' 

In some ways I wish he was right. I was promised a hovercar by people like Asimov when I was a child. I even used to sit in the front seats on the top deck of a bus and pretend I was driving one. But they still aren't here or even close to being here. The idea that we'll be able to skim along on 'four jets of compressed air so that the vehicle will make no contact with either liquid or solid surfaces' is very enticing, as is the idea that 'Bridges will also be of less importance, since cars will be capable of crossing water on their jets'. But it hasn't happened. And nor did the private helicopters or flying saucers.

Asimov also says that: 

'Much effort will be put into the designing of vehicles with 'Robot-brains' that can be set for particular destinations and that will then proceed there without interference by the slow reflexes of a human driver.' 

I strongly suspect that very few drivers will be happy to relinquish complete control ... but they may not have a choice. Many cars are now capable of parking themselves and when the technology is perfected for self-driving machines, will there be jobs for delivery drivers or hauliers or taxi drivers anymore? After all, why would a company employ drivers when a machine will do it for free? 

And guess what sort of companies are sponsoring self-driving car research? Amazon. Google. Uber. etc. I rest my case, m'Lud.

On the pedestrian side of things he wrote:

'For short-range travel, moving sidewalks (with benches on either side, standing room in the centre) will be making their appearance in downtown sections. They will be raised above the traffic. Traffic will continue (on several levels in some places) only because all parking will be off-street and because at least 80 per cent of truck deliveries will be to certain fixed centres at the city's rim. Compressed air tubes will carry goods and materials over local stretches, and the switching devices that will place specific shipments in specific destinations will be one of the city's marvels.' 

Sounds great. Hasn't happened. And thank goodness. One thing Asimov didn't predict is our obesity crisis and the worryingly sharp rise in diagnoses of Type 2 Diabetes caused by being overweight and unfit. Walking is so important. 

And the compressed air tubes thing? No.


At this point I must reiterate that I'm really not out to attack Asimov in any way. He was a true visionary and had some amazing ideas. He got many things right. 

'Communications will become sight-sound and you will see as well as hear the person you telephone. The screen can be used not only to see the people you call but also for studying documents and photographs and reading passages from books'. 

Well, that could be taken as a prediction about the internet and the use of tablets, laptops and smartphones. That said, video phones never really took off and, despite having apps like Skype, Zoom and Facetime etc., the majority of personal communication is still written rather than spoken. There are more emails, tweets, Facebook updates and Whatsapp messages sent than phone calls made I'd suggest. How often do you make a phone call these days? And how often do you do it with the video turned on? I wish he'd been right. I reckon there would be substantially less trolling and online bullying if the perpetrators were forced to look their victims in the eye and, more importantly, couldn't hide behind anonymous avatars.

Asimov did get it right when he said that: 'Synchronous satellites, hovering in space will make it possible for you to direct-dial any spot on earth' . But he was oh so wrong when he said that 'You will be able to reach someone at the moon colonies. Any number of simultaneous conversations between earth and moon can be handled by modulated laser beams, which are easy to manipulate in space.' 

His grimmer predictions were also wrong, thankfully: 

'In 2014, there is every likelihood that the world population will be 6,500,000,000 and the population of the United States will be 350,000,000. Boston-to-Washington, the most crowded area of its size on the earth, will have become a single city with a population of over 40,000,000.' 

Okay, so he underestimated the world population (currently 7.8 billion) and over-estimated the US population (331,000,000). The mega-cities he predicted haven't happened and nor has 'increasing penetration of desert and polar areas'. And his predictions that '2014 will see a good beginning made in the colonisation of the continental shelves. Underwater housing will have its attractions to those who like water sports, and will undoubtedly encourage the more efficient exploitation of ocean resources, both food and mineral' were completely wide of the target.


And speaking of food, he said that 'Ordinary agriculture will keep up with great difficulty and there will be 'farms' turning to the more efficient micro-organisms. Processed yeast and algae products will be available in a variety of flavours. The 2014 fair will feature an Algae Bar at which 'mock-turkey' and 'pseudosteak' will be served.'  

If only that were true. Ordinary agriculture isn't having 'great difficulty' in keeping up as he predicted. But the price we pay for affordable food is destruction of wild spaces, pollution of our rivers and lakes by fertilisers, the death of billions of insects by insecticides, poor returns for hard-working farmers, and the creation of meat factories in which animal welfare is of less importance than volume and low supermarket prices. 

The number of CAFOs (concentrated animal feeing operations) is growing - we now have hundreds in the UK. Do you really want your fried chicken, bacon butties and burgers to come from places where animals spend their entire miserable short lives in conditions like this? Because that's the reality of cheap meat. 



I'm a meat eater but I now eat a lot less of it (I wrote about it here) and I eat as ethically as possible, only buying from local sources where the animals have led a free-range and, if possible, organic lifestyle. But not everyone can afford that luxury. So new forms of palatable protein need to come onto the market - either from Asimov's algae and yeast, other plant-based sources or insect protein. There's more protein in mealworms than prime beef and you can breed millions of them in the space occupied by one cow (see here). But people don't like the idea of eating bugs so it needs to taste and look good. And it needs to be marketed properly. Many things that once sounded unpalatable have since been cleverly rebranded. People are now very happy to eat Chilean Sea Bass but didn't touch it when the same animal was called the Patagonian Toothfish. And people now pay thousands of pounds for mongrel dogs that were once worthless but are now rebranded as cavapoos and labradoodles. Smart marketing can sell anything. 

There are some some great books about the future of food and agriculture but I highly recommend A Small Farm Future: Making the Case for a Society Built Around Local Economies, Self-Provisioning, Agricultural Diversity, and a Shared Earth by Chris Smaje and Regenesis: Feeding the World without Devouring the Planet by George Monbiot.

Oh, and the issue with feeding people isn't lack of food - it's the distribution of wealth. Just 10% of the food wasted and thrown away by the world's richest nations could feed every person on the planet. My local food hub (not a food bank, but a place where they gather residual food from supermarkets) stops 50 tons of perfectly good food going to waste every week and makes it available to people at vastly reduced prices (read more about them here). Just yesterday I bought a turkey there for £2 (original price £18). It was being thrown out by a supermarket that over-ordered, along with 200 other edible turkeys collected by the volunteer staff. Shouldn't every politician be demanding that the towns and cities in their constituencies do the same?  

Want to know how capitalism and economics can work to be fairer and less destructive? Then read Doughnut Economics by Kate Raworth. 

Asimov's prediction of massive overpopulation also leads to this interesting paragraph: 

'There are only two general ways of preventing this: (1) raise the death rate; (2) lower the birth rate. Undoubtedly, the world of AD 2014 will have agreed on the latter method. Indeed, the increasing use of mechanical devices to replace failing hearts and kidneys, and repair stiffening arteries and breaking nerves will have cut the death rate still further and have lifted the life expectancy in some parts of the world to age 85. There will, therefore, be a worldwide propaganda drive in favour of birth control by rational and humane methods and, by 2014, it will undoubtedly have taken serious effect.' 

It's true that in the affluent west people are choosing to have fewer children due to economic reasons or because they are simply 'too busy'. The UN suggests that the world population will plateau at 10.9 billion by the end of the century. Other groups forecast earlier and smaller peaks, with global population reaching 9.7 billion by 2070 and then declining. Meanwhile, the campaign for voluntary euthanasia is gaining ground. I doubt Asimov could have foreseen that. 

He ends his 1964 essay with the words: 

'The world of AD 2014 will have few routine jobs that cannot be done better by some machine than by any human being. Mankind will therefore have become largely a race of machine tenders. Schools will have to be oriented in this direction.' 

Of all of his predictions, this is the most concerning. Just yesterday I saw this meme online:


It, and many others like it, are expressing concern about human jobs being taken by machines. Asimov went on to predict that, 'The lucky few who can be involved in creative work of any sort will be the true elite of mankind, for they alone will do more than serve a machine. Indeed, the most sombre speculation I can make about AD 2014 is that in a society of enforced leisure, the most glorious single word in the vocabulary will have become work!' 

Enforced leisure! What a thought. But he was right to be concerned.

I've often been called a Luddite but I'm happy with that because I know my British history. The Luddites didn't hate technology - that was the 'fake news' put about by the mill owners. What the Luddites fought against was rich men replacing human ingenuity, skill and labour with machines. And remember, back then, if you didn't work you starved. Humans need purpose in life. They also need wages to pay bills, make their rent or fund their mortgages - let alone for lifestyle enhancements like holidays or big screen TVs. 

I don't hate technology either. But I am very wary of how it is used. Technology is neither good nor bad - it's the intentions of the people who fund its development and its usage that decides how it impacts on us. Technology should not make people's lives worse by robbing them of their livelihood. 

One of the most hotly-debated subjects in 2022 was Artificial Intelligence. Last year we saw the first instance of AI being used by a college student to cheat at writing a dissertation. Hollywood stars have found their faces 'deepfaked' onto the bodies of porn stars and there was a case recently where an American mum used the technology in an attempt to ruin the reputations of her daughter's cheerleading rivals. We've seen big leaps forward in self-driving vehicles and, once driverless vehicles are perfected,  just think how many people could potentially be out of work. And that will include people like airline pilots. If you think that's too far-fetched, bear in mind that 90% of most long haul flights are already piloted by computer. The human only needs to be there for take off and landing. But for how much longer? 

We've seen a marked 'improvement' in the algorithms that use our personal data to target us for advertising. AI generated voice-overs are becoming more common and a host of 'fun' AI art generation apps dominate the download market. Regarding that last one, I can't help thinking that this is clever marketing - to give us something free and entertaining to soften us up before AI art production kicks in on an industrial scale. In 2022 at least one mainstream publisher used AI generated art on a book cover instead of employing an artist. It's certainly rattled the cages of many artists and artists' societies who have condemned it - if only because the AI invariably uses human-made art to 'inspire' (i.e. copy and adapt) its own work. 


Meanwhile, the people funding AI research are not from the worlds of medicine or human welfare. There's no philanthropy at work here. As mentioned above, it's the super-rich multi-nationals who are looking to replace jobs with machines - exactly what the Luddites fought against. And you can see why they'd find the idea attractive - if you don't employ people you don't have to pay them. Machines can't complain, demand better working conditions or form a union. And they don't need toilet breaks, holidays or maternity leave. 

The clue is in the name - Artificial Intelligence. This isn't intended to be a tool used by humans. Its intended to be a tool used instead of humans.

So what do the humans do all day?

Asimov, like many futurologists before and after him, predicted a world where we'd have more leisure time but none of them pointed out the stark reality that you need money to enjoy that leisure time. 'Enforced leisure' in 2023 means unemployment, homelessness, bankruptcy, depression and having to go to a food bank. And, because more of us are living longer, the money is needed for longer. Pension funds are decreasing and we now have to work until we're at least 70 before the state will pay us a penny. Asimov wrote:

'Mankind will suffer badly from the disease of boredom, a disease spreading more widely each year and growing in intensity. This will have serious mental, emotional and sociological consequences, and I dare say that psychiatry will be far and away the most important medical specialty in 2014.' 

We are in the middle of a mental health epidemic. But it's not boredom driving people to seek psychiatric help. It's money worries. It's living in concrete cities where no one knows their neighbours and community doesn't exist. It's loneliness and a sense of isolation in an increasingly mechanised world. It's being in competition with everyone on social media platforms and not being able to keep up with the Joness. It's body dysmorphia and low self-esteem. It's a media-fuelled and jacked-up fear of all kinds of nonsense from paedophile kidnappers to invading hordes of immigrants to just about everything giving you cancer. 


Asimov didn't predict that 1 in 5 relationships would begin online or that the dating industry would rake in over a billion pounds per annum. He didn't predict the global storehouse of information that the internet has created or how that data is used or misused. He didn't predict the staggering rise in obesity and online gambling. He didn't see the rise in alcoholism, drug dependency and other health problems. He didn't see the continued reliance on fossil fuels, fracking and re-opening coal mines. He didn't see the polarisation of society and the rise of fascism on both sides. He didn't see the increasing gap between rich and poor and the fact that, in 2022, just 1.1% of the world's population controls half of the planet's total wealth. Or that 55% of the world population together own just 1.3%.

Of course, it's easy for us to snigger and guffaw at some of these old predictions because hindsight has 20:20 vision. Asimov was a smart guy but how could he hope to get things 100% right? If I tried to guess what life in 2072 will be like (I won't be there to see it) I might get a couple of things right but, chances are, no matter how informed I am, most of what I'd predict will prove to be wrong. Society, and humans in particular, are far too complex and unpredictable. 

What I do know for sure is that the real world of 2023 is probably infinitely more fascinating than the one that Asimov envisioned. He'd love the technology and marvel at our advancements in medicine. But I also think that he'd be hugely disappointed in us. We could all be living in a much better and smarter world than this. And it all begins with putting humanity and the world we live in before profiteering and greed. 

Sometimes you have to look back in order to see a better way forward. During lockdown I lost four stones and put my diabetes into remission by only eating unprocessed foods of the kind my grandparents would have eaten. I gave up junk foods and takeaways. I substantially reduced my meat intake and did my bit for animal welfare by only buying locally-reared free range produce. I grew some of my own fruit and veg and foraged for wild foods. I used the car less and walked more. I spent more time in nature. I reduced my waste and recycled as much as I could. I lowered my carbon footprint by not upgrading my phone (which works perfectly well) and by using local shops rather than ordering online. I re-learned the importance of patience and waiting because it makes us appreciate things more. I spent less time online and more time socialising with friends and neighbours. I got involved with local community events and even created a few. I read more books and watched less TV. I reduced my input of bad news by giving up newspapers, TV news and current affairs shows. I still know what's going on but I'm not bombarded with doom and gloom - my input is now at the same levels as it was in my early 20s when all we had was three TV channels and no internet.

As the result I'm happier, fitter and healthier in every way - physically and mentally.

Little changes can make a big difference.

And, on that note, Happy New Year!


Cabinet of Curiosities - Day 31

On this, the final day of 2022 and the last day of featuring items in my personal Cabinet of Curiosities, it seemed fitting to feature something very, very special. 

So here we have my signed copy of Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking

And not just signed - it's inscribed to her 'beloved Stevyn'. 

Sigh. 



You can imagine our excitement at QI when, in 2014, Stephen Fry announced that he'd asked his friend Carrie to appear on the show. Princess Leia! The revengeful girlfriend in The Blues Brothers

For many of us older types, Carrie Fisher was the dream woman of our late teens. And our excitement reached fever pitch when she turned up at the studios a few weeks later to watch a few episodes to get a sense of how the show worked. She sat with us 'elves' in the Green Room during recordings and asked us questions. We got to ask her questions about her career too. And then she announced that she'd be happy to appear on the Christmas show.
What you see here is two grown men who, just like me, were incredibly excited to be sharing the stage with Princess Leia. 

The show ended with an explosive stunt for which ear  defenders were required. Robert, our late and much-missed costume guy, somehow managed to make Carrie's look like her iconic Star Wars hair do and she wore it with glee. 

The stunt involved an oil drum, some liquid nitrogen in a sealed plastic drinks bottle and lots of ping pong balls. As the nitrogen warmed up and turned to gas the bottle exploded and BANG! I filmed it from the wings of the stage on my phone.


Knowing Carrie was going to be on the show, I bought myself a copy of Wishful Drinking -  as I'd recently seen and loved the stage show. Would she sign it for me, I wondered?

She exceeded all my hopes and it's a book I will treasure for as long as I live.

Enjoy your New Year's Eve celebrations tonight folks - hope they go with a bang!



Friday 30 December 2022

Books worth reading #14 - 'Cloven Country' by Jeremy Harte


This is a cracking book with which to end 2022.

As the blurb says: 'According to legend, the English landscape - so calm on the surface - is really the Devil's work. Cloven Country tells of rocks hurled into place and valleys carved out by infernal labour. The Devil's hideous strength laid down great roads in one night, and left scars everywhere as the hard stone melted like wax under those burning feet. With roots in medieval folklore, this is not the Satan of prayer, but a clumsy ogre, easily fooled by humankind. When a smart cobbler or cunning young wife outwitted him, they struck a blow for the underdog. Only the wicked squire and grasping merchant were beyond redemption, carried off by a black huntsman in the storm.'

It's a fantastic, well-researched and passionately written travelogue of all the sites in the UK where the Devil is supposed to have conducted some sort of business or where festivals, rituals and events are still held today to keep Old Nick away. It certainly resonates with me as I spent much of my childhood taking part in the Hal-An-Tow mumming play in which St Michael defeats the Devil and supposedly gave my Cornish hometown of Helston its name (see here). 

Jeremy Harte's books include Explore Fairy Traditions, which won the Katharine Briggs Award in 2005. He is co-editor of the journal Time and Mind, and in 2006 was elected to the Committee of the Folklore Society. He is curator of Bourne Hall Museum in Surrey.


Cabinet of Curiosities - Day 30

It's ... Mr Nipples.


No two ways about it, this is one of the oddest things I have on display in my over-cluttered study. But he is the poster boy for a small collection of objets d'art that I call 'charity shop horrors'. 

Or, perhaps, Objets d'Arse

Mr Nipples was given to me by a friend, Mo McFarland, who found him in a charity shop and knew I'd approve. She was right. I love the clumsy home-made look of the thing - the bulging eyes, the slab-like six pack and those enormous nips under the hairy chest. Who made it? And, more importantly, why? It's naïve and Art Brut. It's Outsider Art and I love Outsider Art (I wrote about it here and here). He looks like some Folk Art good luck totem. 

Or perhaps bad luck? After all, he does come with a story ...   

The evening that he was given to me I'd been out socialising with chums at a private members club in Soho. And, as usual, I frustratingly had to leave earlier than I'd like. One of the joys of being part of that crowd is knowing that you can stay drinking and chatting in places like Gerry's Club, Black's, Jazz After Dark, Tricia's, The Groucho etc. until 2am or later and then grab some food. Soho never sleeps. But the last train out to my part of Buckinghamshire leaves not long after Midnight. Grrr.

Anyway, it had been a long day (I'd been in London at script meetings before catching up with my friends) and I soon nodded off thanks to the gentle rocking of the Chiltern Railways train. I then woke up cruelly just in time to realise that I'd missed my stop. So I got off at the next, which was Saunderton. Unfortunately, this station is little more than a platform in the middle of nowhere with a sprinkling of private houses and farms nearby. I loped over the railway bridge to catch any train going in the other direction but a quick consult of the timetable showed me that the last train towards London had already passed. No problem, I thought, I'll call for a cab. I then discovered that my phone had completely run out of juice and there was no public phone box to be seen anywhere.

The curse of Mr Nipples perhaps?  


Saunderton Station from the ground and the air. It really is in the sticks.


Cursing my luck, I found my way to a main road that I knew would take me back towards the Wycombe area and began walking. It was, by now, after 1am and I was around 7-8 miles from home. Whenever I heard a car coming, I stuck my thumb out in the vain hope some kind driver would take pity and stop but they simply roared past. It began to drizzle. Then, after I'd walked a mile or so, a van stopped. I hopped in and the driver's face fell. I had quite long collar-length hair back then and perhaps he thought I'd be a damsel in distress? And then he saw Mr Nipples. 

'Er ... what's that?' he asked.

'It's Mr Nipples,' I said.

He barely spoke for the rest of the short journey. He dropped me and my odd pottery figure in Hughenden - that was still about a 2 miles away from home and it's uphill all the way - but no worse than my daily dog walk. I got home at just before 3am.

I bought a portable phone charger the next day. Lesson learned.

Meanwhile, Mr Nipples went up on a bookshelf and - to date - doesn't seem to have brought me any bad luck. 

Perhaps he's overwhelmed by some of the other terrible charity shop horrors that I own ...





And especially this delicious slice of madness ... a Postman Pat Transformer.



What were they thinking?? 


Thursday 29 December 2022

The sad demise of the Hardy Tree

A couple of days ago I heard the sad news that the Hardy Tree has fallen down. 

I've visited the tree - which stood in Old St Pancras Church Yard in London - a few times in the past 40 years.
When King's Cross Station was being built, part of the the graveyard needed to be relocated. The Bishop of London, in whose diocese it fell, asked that whatever human remains were still on site be exhumed. The job of organising this fell to Covent Garden architect Arthur Blomfield (1829-1899) who, in turn, assigned the job to his assistant, the young Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928) - this was before he'd written his great masterpieces, such as Far From The Madding Crowd, The Mayor Of Casterbridge and Tess Of The d'Urbervilles

Hardy was only 20 but he decided that something needed to be done to memorialise the effects of what modernity could do to humanity - he didn't like to see old things destroyed in the name of progress. And so he supervised the dismantling of many of the churchyard's tombs and the disinterment and re-internment of their occupants and then, as a monument to the past, he arranged a large number of their tombstones in a decorative ring around a substantial ash tree. And, in time, and as the author's fame grew, it became known as the Hardy Tree.


However, in July this year, the Camden New Journal reported that the tree was likely to fall, having been weakened by a storm and by disease. 'We are looking at ways to commemorate this tree, and its story, when it does eventually fall.' a town hall statement read. 'The council recognises the importance of the veteran Hardy Tree, both for our local communities and nationally, which is why we’ve taken measures over the last eight years to manage this stage of its lifecycle, keeping it safe for visitors.' 

However, despite shoring up and removing much of the crown,  the tree has now fallen.


I hope they find some way to memorialise the Hardy Tree. One option suggested by the Thomas Hardy Society involves growing a new tree from cuttings of the original - although it remains to be seen whether this was carried out in time while the tree was still healthy enough. 'If not, hopefully some other memorial will be put in place instead,' says Dr Hayes, spokesperson for the Society. 'The tree's demise is particularly poignant given the recurring themes of life, death and industrial growth in Hardy's works. At the time when he placed the gravestones at the base of the tree towns and communities were being bulldozed due to the advance of the railways. I think he would be quite sad to see what's happened to the tree. The poetic take is that it grew from a seed dropped by a bird that was flying over the gravestones. Hardy was a great believer in everything being sentient - he wouldn't even let the gardener at Max Gate (the author's former home near Dorchester) prune the trees - and so they were all massively overgrown.' 

She added that if Thomas Hardy were alive he would probably prefer to see a nature-related memorial, rather than a plaque or statue, as he wasn't a huge one for commemoration of self. 'As cliched as it sounds he would probably prefer another tree to be planted, or a garden of some sort,' she said.

Trees are long-lived but they are mortal, sadly. I wonder how long it will be before this one in Victoria Embankment Gardens finally succumbs to gravity? I used to walk past it every day on my way to work at New Scotland Yard.


I have no idea if it has an official name but I always called it the 'Dali Tree' as it is held up with crutches and reminded me of the strange being in Dali's painting Sleep.


I'll be sad to see that one fall too.

King =1 Turbulent Priest =0

Today is St Thomas Becket Day. 

Not St Thomas à Becket Day, like I was told at school. 

His name was Becket - the à Becket version was a post-Reformation creation, possibly modelled on Thomas à Kempis, and is no longer used.
You might also recall from school that he was mates with Henry II who made him Archbishop of Canterbury. However, he was a man of principle and, despite his love for the king, he refused to blindly follow orders, especially in the case of making the church answerable to the crown. 

This angered Henry who famously ranted, 'Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?!' This was overheard by four knights who set off immediately for Canterbury and killed Becket. 

After a time, a cult built around Becket and he was sainted. Various miracles are ascribed to him including making freshwater springs appear and banishing nightingales from Kent as they kept him awake.  

But perhaps my favourite story is that, upon his death, the men of Kent were cursed to always have tails. 

Any Kentish blokes out there want to give us a swish?


Cabinet of Curiosities - Day 29

Today we have two rocks - a Piddock Stone and a black Iron Stone

The Piddock Stone came from the beach at Ogmore-by-Sea in Glamorgan, Wales. The stone is Oolite, a soft limestone from the Lower Carboniferous era. The pitted surface is due to a combination of natural erosion and the action of young piddocks. Some of the larger piddock tunnels go all the way through the stone.


Piddocks (Pholadidae), also known as angelwings, are a family of bivalve molluscs similar to clams. However, Piddocks are unique in that each side of their shells is divided into 2 or 3 separate sections. Furthermore, one of the piddock's shells has a set of ridges or 'teeth', which they use to grind away at clay or soft rock in order to create create tubular burrows. The shape of these burrows are due to the rotating motion of the piddock as it grinds the rock to make its home. The piddock stays in the burrow it digs for the entirety of its eight-year lifespan, with only its siphon exposed to take in water that it filters for food. So called hagstones (see here) are often the result of Piddock activity.


The Iron Stone came from a blackhouse (taigh-dubh) village on the island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. Raasay Ironstone is rich in iron and very heavy and perfect for building houses that have to withstand extreme weather. 


'Blackhouses' were low, single story buildings shared by humans and livestock. The design of a blackhouse originates back several thousand years, as does the constructional method. The building consists of two concentric dry stone walls with a gap between them filled with earth, peat or straw for insulation. The roof was either thatched or made up of turfs and constructed upon a wooden frame. As the roofing material had to withstand quite extreme weather conditions at times, it was often secured by using netting with large stones tied at the ends. Their design was eventually replaced in the late 1800s by 'Whitehouses' (taigh-geal), which were built to separate humans and animals. 

Unbelievably, some of the blackhouses were still inhabited until the middle 1970’s. On Lewis, the best examples to view are at Gearrannan, where it is possible to see a range of houses all in one place. You can see some photos of them on my blogpost about visiting the Callanish stones here.

Both stones are interesting for different reasons but what fascinates me most is that, despite them being picked up hundreds of miles from each other, they fit together like jigsaw pieces. The resulting object is, to me, very attractive.


And that's why they got included in my list of 'curiosities'.


Wednesday 28 December 2022

Cards on the Table

Today is National Playing Cards Day. Apparently.

It's a new one on me. But a good excuse to take a closer look at these everyday objects.

Playing cards are thought to have first appeared in China and arrived in Europe some time towards the end of the fourteenth century. Many different types of deck existed - estimates from Columbia University suggest that there are at least 6,000 different types of historical deck - but the 52 card pack we know today was created by the French. They introduced four suits - hearts, clovers, pikes, and tiles - but by the time they reached England, the clovers had become clubs, the tiles became diamonds and the pikes became spades.
Playing cards really took off with the advent of mass printing and the founding of the Worshipful Company of Makers of Playing Cards in 1628, which regularised the pack. Then, in the eighteenth century, manufacturers began rounding the corners of cards and printing at the edges, indicating the card type and value. Players could then hold a fan of cards in one hand. 

During the 19th century, they began designing double-headed cards so that the cards could be readily identified whichever way up they were (and because players might accidentally reveal that they hold a Court Card if they flipped them the right way up). Each suit includes three Court Cards (or Face Cards) called the King, Queen and Knave/Jack. The original Chinese cards did not have Court Cards - they first appeared when playing cards reached Persia. But, even then, they didn't originally have images of people on them. Islam forbids idolatry so they featured fancy calligraphy that named the cards as malik (king), nā'ib malik (viceroy or deputy king) and thānī nā'ib (second or under-deputy). 
When the cards arrived in Europe it was an easy transition to create the King and Queen but there was no equivalent for the third ranked card so the Knave was introduced. A knave was a servant with no specific job role - unlike stable-boys, cooks, footmen etc. As the result, a Knave was also known as a Jack-of-all-trades, which is why we also call the card a Jack. In some non-French packs, the Jack is known as the Knight, Valet, Peasant or Bower.  

The court cards, surprisingly, all have names: 

King of Spades - David 
Queen of Spades - Pallas 
Jack of Spades - Ogier 

King of Hearts - Charles 
Queen of Hearts - Judith 
Jack of Hearts - La Hire 

King of Clubs - Alexandre 
Queen of Clubs - Argine
Jack of Clubs - Lancelot 

King of Diamonds - Cesar 
Queen of Diamonds - Rachel 
Jack of Diamonds - Hector
Each suit also includes Pip Cards, numbering from one to ten. The card with one pip is known as an Ace. The fanciful design and manufacturer's logo commonly displayed on the ace of spades began under the reign of James I of England, who passed a law requiring an insignia on that card as proof of payment of a tax on local manufacture of cards. 

The Joker card - there are usually two per deck - is the most recent addition and originated in the United States during the Civil War, and was created as a trump card for the game of Euchre.  

Certain cards have acquired nicknames over time. 

One-eyed Jacks – the Jack of Spades and the Jack of Hearts are depicted in profile - so only show one eye - , while the other two are shown in full or oblique face. 

One-eyed Royals – are the King of Diamonds - the other three Kings are shown in full or oblique face - plus the One-Eyed Jacks. 

Suicide Kings – The King of Hearts is typically shown with a sword behind his head, making him appear to be stabbing himself. Similarly, the one-eyed King of Diamonds is typically shown with an axe behind his head with the blade facing toward him. These depictions, and their blood-red colour, inspired this nickname.


The King of Diamonds is sometimes referred to as The Man with the Axe. This is the basis of the trump 'One-Eyed Jacks and the Man with the Axe'. Poker may be played with wild cards, often 'Aces, Jacks, and the King with the Axe'. 

The Ace of Spades, unique in its large, ornate spade, is sometimes said to be the Death Card or the Picture Card, and in some games is used as a trump card. 


The Queen of Spades usually holds a sceptre and is sometimes known as The Bedpost Queen, though more often she is called the Black Lady. She is the only Queen facing left. 

There are, as mentioned, many other different types of packs - the most well-known being the Tarot pack, which we'll look at another day.

But what's always fascinated me is that the standard pack can also be used as a calendar. There are 52 cards that correspond to the 52 weeks of the year and four suits that match the four seasons. There are 12 Court Cards to represent the months of the year or 13 cards in each suit could be said to represent the 13 full moons per year in the Lunar Calendar. And there are 365 pips in a full deck (taking the Court Cards at their numerical value there are 364 pips. The joker is counted as the 365th pip.). 

Isn't that extraordinary?

Anyone fancy a game of Chase The Ace?


Cabinet of Curiosities - Day 28

Today's item is a 'Piece of Eight'.
This particular coin dates from the 1670s and was recovered from the wreck of the HMS Association, sunk in 1707 off the Scilly Isles. The Association was the flagship of Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell in the Mediterranean during the War of the Spanish Succession.

On 22nd October the ship, commanded by Captain Edmund Loades and with Admiral Shovell on board, was returning from the Mediterranean after the Toulon campaign. The 21 ships in the squadron entered the mouth of the English Channel at 8pm but, as a result of navigational errors, the ships were not where they were reckoned to be. The Association struck the Outer Gilstone Rock off the Scilly Isles and sank in minutes with the loss of her entire crew of about 800 men. Three other ships (HMS Eagle, HMS Romney and HMS Firebrand) were also lost, bringing the death toll to nearly 2,000. It was one of the greatest maritime disasters in British history. It was largely as a result of this disaster that the Board of the Admiralty instituted a competition for a more precise method to determine longitude. 

This particular coin was given to my late father by the marine archaeologist Roland Morris, a family friend and the man who brought up the first treasures from the ship. It's not an original - Morris had a load of them cast and used to give them out as gifts along with his business card.

But why were they called 'Pieces of Eight'?


Coins used to be made from precious metals and were valued by their actual weight (the British pound is so named because of many coins the Romans could make from a single lump of metal weighing one pound). And because coins were hammered by hand, it was a lot of hassle to have lots of different denominations. Therefore, large coins were struck that could be cut into halves, quarters and eight pieces. So a Spanish dollar or Real was called a 'Piece of Eight' as it was a coin worth eight pieces, or bits. Something worth 'two bits' cost 'a quarter ' - terms that are still used in America today.


Tuesday 27 December 2022

I blame it on Climate Change

Penguin down!

After I posted this on Facebook, a friend called Trish Dowdall posted this pic with the comment: 'Must be a thing as I saw this one.' 


P-p-p-p-pop a penguin.
 

Cabinet of Curiosities - Day 27

Today's item is a portrait of James Mason stroking a cat surrounded by prehistoric cave paintings

And yes, I am quite aware of how weird this is. It's why I have it. 


Back in the days when I used to be a 'QI elf' I would travel into London every Monday for production meetings and script meetings. Following discussions, I'd often grab a lunchtime pint with m'chums Justin Pollard, John Lloyd and John Mitchinson in the nearby Harp pub in Chandos Place, Covent Garden. It's an excellent pub with a great selection of ales. It was the Evening Standard's London Pub of the Year 2019 and 2020, CAMRA National Pub of the Year 2010/2011, and London Cider Pub of the Year 2011. The back door to the pub is in Brydges Place, the end of which is, I believe, the narrowest public thoroughfare in London. There is barely enough room for a stout chap like me to go through without my shoulders touching a wall. 





The pub was always rammed with people at lunchtime but the beer was good, the ambience wonderful and, both upstairs and downstairs, the walls are covered by an extraordinarily eclectic gallery of paintings. One painting in particular always attracted me towards it and I often chose where to stand simply to be near it so that I could examine it more closely. It's a tricky one to photograph as it is covered by glass and there are reflections from every angle. Yup, that's James Mason with a Siamese cat apparently sitting among the Neolithic cave art of the Lascaux caves in France. 


It's a lovely little painting and, written on Mr Mason's sleeve is the artist's name 'Le Bon'.  But who is/was Le Bon? And what is the meaning behind the picture? I've tried to find out. 

Annoyingly, there seems to be no end of artists called 'Le Bon'. There's Canadian artist Maurice Le Bon (1916 - 1998). He seems to have been active in the right sort of era but, unfortunately, his art bears little resemblance to the Mason portrait and his signature was quite different. Then there's Belgian artist Charles Le Bon (1905-1957) who has a painterly style but only seems to have worked on landscapes and whose signature is, again, very different. Nicola Lebon is a contemporary ceramicist from Margate. Charlotte Le Bon is an illustrator and film-maker. Marie Lebon is a painter and illustrator but in a very modern style. Then there's an artist who simply calls himself Le Bon whose artwork is abstract and colourful but nothing like the James Mason picture. I've spent many, many hours trying to hunt down the elusive Harp 'Le Bon' but I've had no luck yet. I've tried posting the question on social media too but all that revealed was a sizeable number of people who also love the painting. Perhaps this blogpost might reach someone who knows? So, I've had no luck identifying the artist. But I can, at least, explain some of the subject matter. 




It's no great secret that James Mason liked cats. 

No. He loved cats. 

In an interview with Clipping Magazine in 1945 he revealed that he and his wife Pamela shared their home with three Siamese called Flower-Face, Sadie and Tribute. That explains the cat in the painting. The Masons even wrote a book called The Cats in Our Lives (1949) and James's illustrations are actually quite beautiful. 





But what about those cave paintings? Your guess is as good as mine. 

I've not found any photos of him visiting any Neolithic caves and his autobiography doesn't mention any particular interest in them. Maybe it's a nod to his starring role in the 1959 film of Journey to the Centre of the Earth? That's my best guess so far. Although ... it is interesting to note that his cat drawings, sparse of line as they are, resemble nothing quite so much as Japanese art or, dare I suggest it, cave art? Perhaps the whole painting is an allegory about Mankind's primal urge to create images of things we find important?

I suspect I'll never know the truth but that doesn't matter. Le Bon has done his/her job. They've made me look. They've made me think. And they've stirred emotions in me, which is, after all, what aesthetic means (the opposite is anaesthetic - to dull feelings and sensations). I love the painting so much that I cleaned it up in Photoshop, printed it, framed it and hung it on my study wall. Here it is below an original sketch of a dog by Noel Fielding and a painting on wood called 'Chabol' by toy designer Mathew Plater (MAp-MAp). 


Meanwhile, all I can tell you for sure is that, next time I'm in the Harp, I'll endeavour as always to enjoy my pint of Dark Star's Hop Head somewhere close to the mysterious painting of Mr Mason and his cat. 


I love them both.