Tribalism; Improving the Natives’ World

Posted on 22 October 2015 by SaraJayne

Ah, tribalism. Where would we be without it?

It’s tribalism, of course, that makes us socialize ourselves and others to live according to certain accepted values. It’s so we can tell who’s US and who’s THEM.

These things are usually so engrained, so deep down, that we don’t notice them consciously. We generally notice them when we have reason to fight against them. For example, I’m told that serial killers don’t generally believe that they’re bad people; they believe that they’re doing a good thing, in whatever way. They tell themselves whatever story they need to, in order to have that be their reality, rather than the one we see, because they had to fight against the norms our tribe imposed upon them, and they could only go so far with that. They generally can’t accept “I’m a bad person” – but they can accept a twisted version of what they’re doing.

To accomplish this socializing of THEM and US, however, society relies on mores that get engrained in us without question, and turn into things we can elicit shame with.

When we don’t live up to these mores, we then feel inadequate – the whole of consumerism, naturally, preys upon this: “You aren’t happy enough with life? Buy this thing, and you will be!” Because it’s so convenient for companies trying to sell us things to use this tactic, we constantly get conflicting messages about what we should do to be happy – we should be thin, we should have a bit of meat on our bones, we shouldn’t care about size; we should be married, we should be single; we should have children, we should not have children; and so on. We can’t win, no matter what we do, so we end up feeling constantly inadequate if we don’t armor ourselves from this onslaught.

Photo by DttSP

All of that is well known, and not really what I’m here to write about. We went to see Michael Palin recently – he’s a famous world traveler, as well as a comedy writer and actor. He did a little Q&A from the audience, and someone asked him if he keeps in touch with the people he’s met on his travels.

This question almost always pops up when someone talks about their travels, no matter how large or small the audience, in my limited experience. Nevermind that Michael Palin has traveled extensively and so keeping up with the people he met along the way would be several full time jobs on its own. I’m always boggled and annoyed by this question, and as I let it roll around my head over the next few days, I realized what I think is going on more deeply.

Leftover from Imperialism, there is an expectation of going abroad and improving the lot of the natives. There’s definitely the knowledge that Imperialism was filled with nasty effects and side effects, so this isn’t at all obvious, but I think what’s happened is that the attitude has shifted from the government going out to improve the world to individuals and charities improving the world.

We have one man in town who spends his days taking supplies to Bosnia – he comes home to Glossop, gathers clothes, medicine, all sorts, and drives his Land Rover over to war-torn Bosnia to deliver it. He sleeps sitting up in his vehicle to cut down on expenses. We have another couple who, I think single-handedly, is supporting a school in Kenya – including paper, pencils, food, money to pay the teachers, uniforms for the kids, etc. And there’s the Winnie Mabaso Foundation, which was started by Winnie Mabaso in South Africa (though not as a foundation), and took off from the work of one Glossop woman, mostly (now there are more people involved). Certainly improving life abroad by individuals and charities is a much-lauded, often-done thing in this society.

So, I think the expectation that the traveler improve the lot of the people they’re visiting became one of those deeply entrenched expectations — so deep as to be unconscious. One way to be seen to do this is to keep in touch with them, so as to try to do something (send them supplies, perhaps) once home in Britain.

I challenge my British readers to not dismiss this out of hand – think about it. I could be wrong, but if I’m right, it’s something so unconscious you won’t necessarily see it at first. That is the way with many tribal things. Not all are as obvious as “Thou shalt not kill.”

Photo by DttSP

Trip to Manchester Art Gallery

Posted on 30 January 2014 by SaraJayne

As I mentioned last week, I went to Manchester Art Gallery with Glossopdale WI, where I thoroughly enjoyed the Gallery of Craft and Design. I got completely absorbed in that section, and took a ton of photos.

Upon arrival, we stopped in the cafe for a drink first, and then made our way upstairs. Be sure to click on the photo & then the right arrows to follow the narrative.

First round of photos …

I’ve done what I can with these photos; they’re not brilliant, but these things are just too neat to not try to share. The lighting is absolutely terrible in that room – I was struggling to see many things with my eyeballs, forget about through the lens. Things behind glass are always difficult to photograph; moreso when they have no opaque backing, making the background difficult to control. I tend to prefer not to use my flash on old things, though I except certain materials like silver where I don’t think it makes a difference. And then, just for kicks, my camera batteries ran out at lunchtime, so the rest of the photos were taken with my cell phone – thankfully it usually takes acceptable photos.

: Went to the Manchester Art Gallery on 22 Jan 2014.

: After stopping in the cafe for a drink, we headed upstairs – rumor had it that the exhibit we were there to see was on the top floor. Getting off the lift, this figure greeted us. It’s called Filter, and Antony Gormley made it. Seeing as I don’t generally like modern art, I know nothing of this chap; he is apparently the one who made the (in)famous Angel of the North. The sign said:
Filter is made of mild steel rings welded together. This “skin” acts as both a container of the body and as a space for our own thoughts and feelings.

The sculpture’s suspension suggests flight, levitation, or an out of body, spiritual experience. Inside is a form located in the place of the heart, symbolically associated with life, death, and love.
Must say I am wondering what mild steel rings are – mild as in, not spicy? Not passionate? Not hot? Hm.

Another sign said that the artist wrote this about the work:
The work hangs in space as if in orbit, open to light and the elements. At its core in the heart position, there is a condensation of balls whose diameter is equal to the internal right dimension that makes the outer membrane.

Filter is amongst the first works where the skin of the body volume is transformed to a porous surface and external context. The work is a meditation on the condition of the relationship between the core of the body and space at large. It suggests that while movement, freedom of choice, and the exercising of will is one way in which life expresses itself, there is another axis: the relationship between emotion and spatial experience.
Wow, I didn’t get any of that from this figure of a naked man suspended by his butt over a staircase. Call me silly, but if you want to explore the relationship between the core of the body and space, or the relationship between emotion and spatial experience, I daresay the best medium to use could quite possibly be words – unfashionable, antiquated things they may be.

: Only one of the rooms on the top floor was open – I guess they’re changing an exhibit in the other room – so that’s where I went. What drew my attention first was the absolutely stunning ceiling. I adore this ceiling, and fancy having one in my house one day. Upon saying so to one of my fellow WI members, she said I’d have to think about how to dust it: I’d need a duster on a long stick, or something. Hah. Once I can afford a ceiling like this – and the room to match – I’ll be paying someone to dust it!

“Please do not touch” the sign says. Bah. I like that steel chair – complete with butt cheek divets! – and really wonder what it’d feel like to sit in it. Likely not too comfy if your butt isn’t that shape. It’s made from some huge number of individual layers of steel, I believe it was (my photo of the sign didn’t come out so well).

The glass thing, however, is just weird. Each piece was apparently hand-blown!

That would make an interesting dining room chandelier – would probably be a decent conversation starter.

Chris, in his usual spoil-sport fashion, has decreed that we can’t have one. Phooey. (Some nonsense about needing a bigger dining room or something – bah!)

Stepping away from the modern art, I found the Thomas Greg collection of pottery. These four floor tiles were made in England in the 1300s. The sign says they’re earthenware, with inlaid decoration.

I exclaimed over the age of these to a friend nearby, and she asked if it still gets me, how old things are here. 1300s? Yes, that grabs my attention.

: What are these? Once I found this section of the room, I perked right up. All the strange dishes and objects our ancestors never cease to entertain me.

The one at the back: can you make out the three rows of smaller round holes beside the square ones? It looked vaguely like a toothbrush cup to me: skinny toothbrushes in the little holes, and then toothpastes in the big holes. The book says it’s an inkwell, from the 1750s.

The round thing on the left is a bleeding bowl from 1716. Fun times!

The round thing on the right is a “feeding cup” from the 1670s. Looks like a sippy cup to me, almost. That nozzle almost looks like an elephant’s trunk, really.

What are these?

Delftware, or Delft pottery, denotes blue and white pottery made in and around Delft in the Netherlands and the tin-glazed pottery made in the Netherlands from the 16th century.

From about 1615, the potters began to coat their pots completely in white tin glaze instead of covering only the painting surface and coating the rest with clear ceramic glaze. They then began to cover the tin-glaze with clear glaze, which gave depth to the fired surface and smoothness to cobalt blues, ultimately creating a good resemblance to porcelain.

Have you figured it out yet?

They’re candlesticks. I exclaimed to a friend when I found that in the book, “All that for a candlestick?!” She pointed out that, just as we have fancy lamps and chandeliers today, they would’ve had fancy things to hold their sources of light back then. The shelf halfway up puzzles me a bit, though finally it occurred to me that they had worse candles than we do today – not necessarily clean-burning, so a whole shelf to catch drips, etc, was probably useful. I also wonder if it made it easier to carry, if you grabbed it between the shelf and the base.

What is this!?

The book says it’s a posset pot and cover from 1707. Posset was a mixture of heated milk combined with ale or wine, which curdled it; in the Middle Ages it was given as a remedy for colds and certain other things. Mmm, curdled milk.

Chris reckons the pot has so many handles to help the really ill hold on to it. I’m not sure if posset was still being given as a remedy by 1707, but all I know came from that wikipedia article.

It sure is a bizarre thing, though!

: These larger versions of that sippy cup are also marked down as posset pots. I do begin to suspect that they were perhaps really just jugs (pitchers), used for multiple things, just as our own pitchers are today.

What are these?

The thing at the top left of the frame is simply a jug. The thing at the top right of the frame, however … what could it be?

It’s a moneybox (piggybank). I couldn’t twist around well enough to see if there was some mechanism for opening it on the bottom – I do hope there was!

But what of the thing in the lower right of the frame? My picture doesn’t show it too well, but it’s as if the potter made three small cups (little bigger than shotglasses), each with a handle, and then stuck them together with extra clay sort of randomly applied (though there’s a hole in the middle between the cups), before glazing and firing the lot. Hm…

It’s a fuddling cup, and thanks to wikipedia, now I have a clue about what that is!

A fuddling cup is a three-dimensional puzzle in the form of a drinking vessel, made of three or more cups or jugs all linked together by holes and tubes. The challenge of the puzzle is to drink from the vessel in such a way that the beverage does not spill. To do this successfully, the cups must be drunk from in a specific order.

: A couple of ornate tureens (vessels for serving soup or stew).

Ever since I went through these photos, showing them to Chris, I’ve been kicking myself for not getting a proper photo of that plate at the left edge. The detailed relief design was stunning. Something for next time!

Creamware is a cream-coloured, refined earthenware created about 1750 by the potters of Staffordshire, England, which proved ideal for domestic ware.

I was taken with the intricate design on the large bowl thing, too, and amused by the description on the sign: “Cream bowl or chestnut bowl.” They don’t really know what it was used for, it sounds like – probably whatever its owner felt like each day! I do wonder about number 66 there – all I can think is candle holder, but then, I think tealight candles are too new for that. Hm.

Novelty teapots! They’re fab!

When I was showing these to Chris, he said he was so glad we don’t have a novelty teapot. I asked why, and he said it’d be too silly. Well, then, it’d suit us! Now he gets to live in dread of each shopping trip I make, til I find a suitable novelty teapot… bwuahaha!

: I won’t, however, bring home a novelty teapot in the shape of a tree stump (even if it is from 1770), rest assured! The sign said:

Novelty teapots are older than you might think. Tea drinking became popular in the 1700s and tea parties were fashionable social events. Tea was something unusual, exotic, and costly, and an excellent subject for witty design. Teapots were made in all sorts of shapes, following the changing fashions of the time.

This teapot is made to resemble a tree stump, with gnarled handle and spout and patches of moss. Or is it a rock pool, with a shell on the lid and seaweed fronds clinging to the sides?

: Then I headed over to the dazzling silver collection from Mr and Mrs Edgar Assheton Bennett. These teapots with lamps under them seem emminently sensible for keeping the tea warm – I do wonder why we got rid of this idea! This is far classier than a tea cozy.

It’s an inkstand for the well-to-do — aside from being made of silver, this is an inkwell, a pounce pot, and a bell – I presume to ring the butler when you’ve finished writing to take your missive on its way!

I’ve never heard of pounce before; apparently it was used to smooth rough paper, to make it smooth enough to write on with a quill or steel nib. That wikipedia entry says that paper is usually smoothed (sized) with a gelatinous layer to make it smooth enough to write on. Huh, I never knew that.

All I can think of looking at this picture, though, is how much wasted desk space there is with this stand!

The tall thing is a beaker, the book says. Chris says it can’t be; it doesn’t have any mL markings on it. I suspected the beaker predated milliliters, and I was right: the beaker is from 1601; the metric system was introduced in 1799. ;-P

I’d just heard a friend say something about drinking half a beaker of water a few days before I saw this, so this beaker caught my eye. I think some people use beaker to mean drinking cups, rather than just meaning the laboratory equipment I think of.

The small cup at the front is a quaich, which is for drinking out of, even if it does look very similar to the bleeding bowls.

The round thing at the back is a wine taster, apparently – wonder what my guests would do if they asked for just a taste of some drink and I put an ounce or so in a saucer for them!

The cup at the front is a wine glass. I can’t remember now if that decoration punched the whole way through – I hope not!

: This is a steeple cup, apparently. (Ignore the sign; that’s for the object to the right, which you can’t see.) Wikipedia has failed me on this one, so any illumination would be gratefully received. Barring some other explanation, I’ll continue believing Chris’ hypothesis: it’s so you can have your drink and then stab your drinking buddy. Suppose that’s one way to not have to share.

These were cool to look at. They’re from 1688.

This is a portable candle maintenance kit. Before the introduction of the non-guttering wick, candles needed constant attention to keep them lit.

The stand contains a pair of scissors or snuffers to trim the burnt wick into a small box on one blade. The scissors have pointed ends to gouge out any stumps of wax left in the candlestick. There is also a conical candle extinguisher and a detachable candlestick for a burning taper to light another candle or melt wax to seal a letter.

Sure makes me appreciate the modern light switch!

: The idea of this tidgy little two-compartment box being used for spices about made me fall out with laughter. I can’t imagine why.

: Lovely! They say it’s a bread basket … the heft of this thing wouldn’t be very conducive to passing it around the table. Chris tells me that’s what servants were for. How silly of me.

I was absolutely delighted by this box. My pictures didn’t come out very well, so you’ll have to sort of squint a bit to see it, but it’s too delightful to not try to share. This side says “One month before marriage” – the rotation is on the next photo…

This is from the Harold Raby Collection. The sign says:

Harold Raby was charmed by English enamels, finding them “dainty and pretty, quaint and curious.” As a boy, he inherited a tiny, battered enamel box, which inspired him to collect over 400 more items during the first half of the 20th century.

These enamels were mainly made in Staffordshire and were fashionable from about 1750 to 1820. For Raby, they evoked a lost age of elegance and gave an insight into outmoded social customs.

A local bank manager, Raby only had moderate means, but he tried to buy examples of every type of object produced by the short-lived English enamel industry. He acquired boxes for face patches, snuff and tobacco, candlesticks, perfume bottles, tea caddies … He even risked air raids to attend sales in London. Eventually, boxes outnumbered every other item and gave his collection an obsessive quality.

: This side says “One month after marriage.” Do you see it? I did, and was delighted by it, going back and forth around the corner it was perched on to see it from each angle again and again. 🙂

: The other one that attracted my attention in this “dainty and pretty, quaint and curious” collection was this owl devouring this frog. I believe this one falls under “curious.”

The sign made me laugh out loud:

This stand is a copy of a table found in Pompeii, although one small detail has been omitted. The three satyr figures are missing an erect penis. The original was kept in Naples Museum’s secret room, alongside other ancient “erotic” material, to be studied by gentlemen scholars only.

The visions that the last phrase brings to mind! “Gentlemen scholars only.” Plaid, jackets with patched elbows, manic hair (scholar) with tophats (gentlemen), smoking pipes, eyeing the table while stroking their goatees and muttering, “Hmmmm….”

This is a handle for a cane. When I saw it, I immediately thought of Chris’ uncle, who had a special skull handle he used on our wedding day. I’d gotten some table diamonds, in blue and silver, and before the day was done, his skull head cane handle had blue eyes. 🙂

When I showed it to Chris and told him it’s a cane handle, he immediately said they should make a replica so we can give it to this uncle. Hah, great minds think alike!

These last few photos are from the Mary Greg collection. The sign said:

Mary Greg appeared to be a compulsive collector who could not resist the curious and bizarre. She collected thousands of diverse objects: basket ware, keys, thimbles and even stuffed frogs!

The first thing that caught my eye in her collection was an old microscope, from the 1600s if memory serves. The collection is indeed full of curious and bizarre items – it was lovely!

: An old microscope, from the 1600s I think. (I forgot to take a picture of the book for this one.) Not very ergonomic!

: This is a portable sundial. I wonder how it works.

: A gunpowder tester, made in England c 1830. I never thought about needing such a thing; I wonder how it worked. I did find a picture of a completely different type here.

: This thing that looks nearly like a fun straw is actually a pipe! What’s even crazier is that it’s made of glass!

: Can you tell what this bird is?

: It’s a whistle! 🙂

Thoughts on Grayson Perry’s exhibit …

That’s all I had time for in the hour before we were meeting back in the cafe for lunch. After waiting an eternity to pay for a simple pre-made sandwich, I listened to the others discuss the tapestry exhibit they’d gone to see. I’m glad I did; one friend observed that she feels like the artist is trying to shake Britain by the shoulders and tell us to wake up and realize how petty and vanishingly small the differences that we latch onto are. Later, after I’d gone to see it myself, I found I wholeheartedly agree with that idea. Included in the exhibit was also the set of drawings A Rake’s Progress, which was very interesting (you can see the whole thing there at that link).

I found the tapestries, which are very garish and cartoonish, giving caricatures really, illustrative of what the perceived differences are between classes. When the mother and father feel like they’ve moved from working class to middle class, the cleanliness of their place is highlighted, particularly by the mother vacuuming the astro-turf lawn. Apparently everything being perfectly clean and tidy is a strong impression the working class has of how the middle class is.

I don’t expect I’ll ever understand the signs for classes here – in large part because I don’t actually care about social class, but rather whether an individual is a classy and decent person. I also find class is something that won’t be discussed, generally. Apparently there was a strong message put out in the 80s and 90s that modern Britain is a classless society, classes no longer exist, etc. It didn’t work, of course. Instead, now class simply isn’t talked about. When I raise the subject for possible discussion, I’m always met with the refrain that Britain doesn’t have classes anymore, and the conversation moves swiftly to some other subject. And yet, when I observe closely, I see that social class is very much still noticed and very much affects opportunities and people.

I do wish it wasn’t this way. I fervently wish we could just take individuals as they are, and not feel this need to put them into bins, stereotyping them in order to simplify and hasten our process of (mis)understanding them. This is what underlies all stereotypes, whether they come from class, occupation, sex, age, weight, color, height, proclivity to wear polka dots, or anything else under the sun. We won’t, of course, because there are many people and our energy is finite. *sigh*

After lunch photos …

After lunch, though, I went back to the Gallery of Craft and Design to pick up where I’d left off. I got to the Grayson Perry exhibit later on, and then to the Dutch paintings exhibit. More photos from the craft and design gallery:

The sign said this is a patch stand, made in England, 1740s:

This small glass stand has a very shallow bowl and was designed to hold black silk face patches. It would have been included on a dressing table amongst the cosmetics and hair preparations.

Patches or beauty spots were glued to the cheeks as part of a fashionable lady’s face make-up. They were cut into circles and various shapes, including stars, crescents, and political emblems. Originally they were worn on the face to cover the disfiguring spots caused by smallpox, perhaps the most feared disease of the 1700s.

Well, we’ll leave aside the smallpox, but I think the patches sound nice – we should bring these back! Wonder if Cindy Crawford uses this? 😉

When I showed these photos to Chris, I had a lot of fun making him guess what different things were. For this, all he could come up with was “for scarring people’s minds.” Well yes, I can see that.

The book says it’s an inkwell. All that for an inkwell! We’re back to the land of wasted desk space – though I’d rather have the silver one, myself. Complete with the butler.

The sign says the thing on the right is a pill slab, probably a decorative one for an apothecary’s window. They used plainer ones for mixing up their potions. In this day and age of countertop, it’s funny to think about having to get a special slab like this just to have a smooth surface upon which to work.

The jug on the left is very curious with its short spout – it looks broken off, except that it’s too smooth. The book says it’s an albarello, a jar for holding apothecaries’ ointments and dry drugs, but I can’t find anything about spouts of these vessels. Hm.

They had a wonderful spoon collection, which was very badly lit, so none of the photos came out well. I just have to show you this spoon, though – shovel, more like! The book says it was commemorating the coronation of Edward VII (in 1901), so I suppose it wasn’t meant for eating from – Englanders didn’t go from having HUGE mouths to teeny tiny ones, despite the arrangement here.

The one on the left, cut off a bit, is an 1806 caddy spoon – it’s a scoop for measuring out one dose of looseleaf tea. The second one is a Christening spoon from 1858. The fourth one is a cruet spoon, c 1904 (for condiments). The last one is a serving spoon from 1932.

The timeline they ran along the bottom was highly interesting, too. I was shocked to see that ready-to-eat breakfast cereal is that old!

I liked the verse spread out on these plates. The book calls them Merryman plates from 1680. My picture’s a bit fuzzy, but I’ve tried to read it off for you:

What is a mery man

Let him do all what he can

to entertain his gels

with wÿne and mery jests

but if his wÿfe doth frown

all merÿment goes down.

🙂

Not the best photo, but I wanted to share what the sign said:

Tea casket, made in South Staffordshire, about 1770

Tea was so expensive in the 1700s that it was often kept under lock and key in beautifully decorated boxes like these ones. The lady of the household kept the key. Black and green tea were stored in two of the boxes, whilst the third was used for mixing them together.

Such was the importance of tea drinking that impressive services of silver and porcelain were designed to accompany the ritual. Serving tea after dinner was not only fashionable but also a sure way of displaying one’s wealth. Although tea is no longer associated with status, it has become part of Britain’s national identity.

Serving tea or coffee after a meal is quite common, from my experience. That’s one that hasn’t yet seeped in for me, though, so I keep forgetting to offer it. My last guests (lunch bunch) were so surprised that I remembered – I could see it on their faces. I do wish my friends would remind me of these things!

This is an elephant’s tusk. The whole tusk was carved like this, end to end, both sides. My photo of this end is all that came out – and they didn’t put this in one of their completely glass cases so you could see the back, silly people. From the sign:

Made in China, 1870s

This magnificent, intricately carved tusk shows scenes of a Chinese tea warehouse on this side, with men drying, weighing, and drinking the tea. It was probably made for a wealthy Westerner and designed to symbolize the owner’s social status.

Tea was first imported into this country in 1657, alongside strange and exotic tea bowls and teapots. Makers quickly produced their own tea services; sometimes they were inspired by the East with Chinese scenes, and occasionally entirely made out of silver. Such was the expense of tea-drinking in the 1700s that teapots only came in relatively small sizes, and tea-tables often had a rim around the edge to prevent any wayward tea leaves from escaping.

Huh, if your tea service was entirely made out of silver, wouldn’t it change the taste of your tea? Anyone know?

What do you think this is?

The book says it’s a pipe! Good grief, you’d be waiting an age to get started! I must remember to ask my Dad (he used to smoke a pipe) what he makes of what this would do for the smoker. It just looks ridiculous to me!

What are these?

The book says they’re stirrup cups: “a ‘parting cup’ given to guests, especially when they are leaving and have their feet in the stirrups. Also, the traditional drink (usually port or sherry) served at the meet, prior to a traditional foxhunt. The term can describe the cup that such a drink is served in.”

That doesn’t explain why their bottoms aren’t flat so that they’re impossible to set down. I guess you (well, your servants) carry the cups and the drinks out separately to the doorstep, then pour and hand them off. Are the guests meant to take them away? It’d shock me if they were. Hm.

This is a sewing chair, made by Edgar Wood, 1894, of oak. It has beautiful carvings that didn’t really come out in the photos, including across the top: “Use Time Wisely.” From the sign:

The Arts and Crafts movement of the late 1800s rejected industrialization and mass production. Its aim was to promote the idea of good design whilst raising the status of the craftsman to artist, thus giving ordinary household objects the same importance as painting and sculpture.

… This chair cleverly combines decoration and function, with its built-in workbox in the seat.

The back of that chair is strange. All I can think is that you can put a pillow there and get comfortable so you can sit there for a long time. It also sits very low, but then, it’s easier to use your lap the lower you are, I find. Storage in the seat is very clever and good, though – we should really bring that back!

This is a beautiful chair – at first glance, I’d like a set of these for my own home! But then I read the sign…

Chair, probably made by Ince and Mayhew, about 1765. Mahogany frame with modern horsehair upholstery.

The elegant curved and scrolling lines of this chair were made possible by the introduction of mahogany from the West Indies into Britain after 1720. The close grain and hardness of this new material offered exciting new possibilities for furniture design. Its strength meant that legs could be much slimmer, and carved decoration finer and more detailed.

But the 1700s was an age of elegance and formality. Furniture was not designed to encourage or invite the slouching and lolling poses adopted today. This chair forces the sitter to sit absolutely upright, with little weight allowed to rest on the delicate back.

Ah, right. No, my back hurts too much to not have a backrest, so the museum can keep this chair. The stuff about being able to do different things with mahogany was news to me, though, and sparked a conversation with Chris (who’s a budding woodworker). I suppose it’s the same as sewing, though – what is possible to do is dictated by the material you’re working with, always.

I also had no idea horsehair was used as upholstery; Chris tells me that yes, it was quite common, and even his grandparents had a horsehair chair. He says it was very uncomfortable, and he could never decide whether it was the chair or the horsehair itself that was so uncomfortable. Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed the upholstery choice on a chair would make too much difference to the comfort!

I really like this juxtaposition: the flamboyant chair next to the ladder chair – and then, to top it off, the back of the flamboyant chair.

Parade chair, Made in Italy, about 1680. Gilded wood with modern silk velvet upholstery.

This extravagant chair, in the Baroque style, with its flamboyant carved and gilded frame, was intended for grand ceremonial affairs and designed to reflect the status of the sitter. It was made as one of four chairs and probably belonged to Cosimo III de Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who was famous for his lavish entertainment.

In contrast to the front, the back of the chair has a plain and rather crude construction. Intended only to be seen from the front, it gives the illusion of granduer, wealth, and pomp.

I like that: the illusion. I have a thing about not finishing backs of things just because they’re not meant to be seen: invariably they’re seen at some point, and no matter how nice the front is, the object’s esteem drops because of the unfinished back. In this case, the sitter’s esteem would likely drop, too. Clearly, once we fire up our dinner parties again, we’ll need to make ourselves some chairs like this for our lavish entertainment — but we’ll finish the backs! 😉

The juxtaposed ladder chair next to the posh one is, in fact, made out of a ladder; it’s from 1996. From the sign:

Three young graduates, Jamie Anley, Astrid Zola, and Matthieu Paillard, founded the design company JAM in 1994. They began by salvaging waste material found in scrap yards, skips, and even on street corners. The idea of recycling scrap evolved in the late 1980s and was a reaction against wasteful consumerism.

JAM took this one step further by working closely with manufacturers like Whirlpool and Philips, who provided them with parts from their products. They ingeniously transformed these existing items into a completely different functional object, like this chair made out of a ready made ladder, taken apart, cut up, and re-welded back together.

I’ll bet the Grand Duke of Tuscany never imagined his chair would end up next to a chair made from a ladder.

What is this?

When I saw it across the room, I thought it was a tube for kids to crawl through, as part of a play set or something. Looking at it now, I imagine a mischief of mice using it as playground equipment – a smaller version of this.

Its creator says it’s a chaise lounge – a chair for reclining. Fascinatingly, it’s made from a long carbon fibre thread, spun onto a computer-controlled mold.

The sign asks if the viewer thinks this would be comfortable to lie on. We aren’t allowed to touch it, so I’m not sure, but it looks like mesh to me that would give a bit, much like a hammock. If so, then provided you can somehow keep yourself from falling off, it’d be brilliant. Chris reckons the cat would come along underneath and sink claws in the lounger through the holes, though, making it a tad less comfortable.

: There were some seats we could sit on, so I rested my feet a bit, and stared up at the ceiling some more.

What is this?

It’s a vase, in the shape of a jack-in-the-pulpit flower, from 1850-1900. I’d never heard of this flower before – or all its other colorful names listed on that wikipedia entry. I am edjumacated.

What is it?

Apparently it’s a melon-shaped sauce boat, by Wedgwood of all firms.

The scary thing is that someone actually bought that. Undoubtedly, in the past 200 years, someone has proudly used that.

In complete contrast, I think this dish on the right is absolutely stunning. It’s from the 1800s from Japan, and made of silver, decorated with enamel and gold. I always did have expensive taste.

The dish on the left isn’t bad, either, though I wouldn’t call it a bowl (like the museum book does). It’s from Italy, from 1525.

: This tray is from India in the 1800s, made of brass with silver inlaid decoration. Lovely!

: Mold, block, and teapot. Made in Staffordshire, about 1740-1760. Salt-glazed stoneware and plaster.

Most of the crockery [dishes] we use today is made by the process of slip-casting. This technique was developed in the 1740s, and revolutionized the way ceramics were made.

First, a model was made for the finished object (in this case the body of an octagonal teapot). Then, impressions were taken in plaster of paris, forming a mold of interlocking plaster walls. Liquid clay was poured into the mold, where the porous plaster absorbed the excess water, leaving a thin wall of solid clay behind.

In this way, the finest detail could be replicated, producing ceramics of a delicacy never seen before.

Or since, I daresay. I haven’t seen any dishes like that teapot for sale lately. Anyway, helpful as that sign is, it doesn’t tell me how the teapot would stay hollow. You pour the clay in, but what makes the hole in the middle? Clearly, I must research this some time.

I showed this to Chris and told him that the most amazing thing about these birds is that not only are they made of glass, so are their tails. He replied that no, the most amazing thing is that they’ve survived. Gotta hand it to him.

The remarkable thing about these dainty birds is that their hair-like tailes are made from glass. Glass fiber, sometimes known as spun glass, is created by drawing out a thread from molten glass, forming a fine filament just millimeters thick. This technique was later developed to make the more familiar product of fiber glass used for insulation, sound absorption, and molding.

These birds may have been part of a bird fountain, an elaborate table decoration of the mid 1800s. Exotic birds with flowing fiber glass tails would perch around a cascading glass fountain to form the ultimate Victorian conversation piece.

What a conversation starter that would be! I’d prefer that over the chandelier we saw at the beginning, honestly, except that there’d be no way those birds wouldn’t get broken in this house. Obviously, the materials science people should be working out how to make us unbreakable glass…

I didn’t take photos of anything else in the building; I was tired of taking photos by then.

After gallery photos …

I left the gallery at about 3:30 because I was tired and because I wanted to make it to a shop to price fabric for a project I’m considering. I wandered through Chinatown, and then groped fabric, and then headed home. A few more photos:

: After leaving the art gallery, I came across this pub, the Seven Oaks pub. I was amused by the decoration, so thought I’d share it with yall.

: The art gallery is right by Manchester’s Chinatown, so I wandered through there to see the decorations up for Chinese New Year. Not a great deal, really, but still festive.

: I quite liked the dragon.

: As I was headed for the train, I saw the fountain in Piccadilly Gardens was running now (it wasn’t earlier; maybe they only turn it on at rush hour), with lights, which were new! I watched the light & water show for a few moments; it was nice.

: I also noticed that the wheel is back in Manchester – it’s mobile, and had left awhile back. Chris and I hadn’t realized that it was mobile, so that was rather a surprise the day we saw it wasn’t where it had been before! Anyway, I’ve never seen it lit up at night – it’s kinda nice.

Then I headed home! Hope you enjoyed my day out as much as I did!

Travel Tuesday: Denman College

Posted on 8 January 2014 by SaraJayne

Welcome to a new series, Travel Tuesday, wherein I share photos from our outings. Most will be daytrips (since that’s what we do the most – we do like our comforts of home); some will be longer. Some will be multi-part. I hope to post this at least most Tuesdays.

For this first one, I’ve decided to share the photos from my trip to Denman in April & May last year. These are mainly of the grounds, because I did manage to look around a bit in the mornings before class started, but otherwise, as you’ll recall from my year in review post, I generally looked like this:

I was at Denman for a week of sewing with the fabulous May Martin. I looked like this a lot. - 1 May 2013

Click for photos …

There was a long train trip, but it was pretty boring countryside, to be honest, and none of the few photos I took came out, so just imagine 3 hours’ worth of fields to start with. Oh yes, the one interesting thing was that there were less dry stone walls and more hedges. Right, so three hours’ worth of hedged fields. And then…

(Remember to click on any photo to start the slideshow.)

: Eeyore is my reading buddy. On the train trip down, we caught up on newspapers – they’re lightweight and not bulky, a consideration when you’re packing your sewing machine & notions in addition to the usual things for a week!

: While waiting at the Oxford train station for my taxi, I was surprised to see buses with doors towards the rear as well as up front by the driver. I wonder how they keep people from jumping on and not paying?

: Yes, you can tell it’s a college town.

: This is the view from the front of Oxford train station – that building roof is very curious.

: I got the barest glimpse of Oxford as the taxi took us to Denman from the train station.

: Denman’s in Oxfordshire, so we left Oxford and went into the countryside. It was a nice drive.

: Every guest room at Denman is taken care of by a different county federation, so they’re all unique. They’re all required to have certain things, though, including a sewing kit. This was the one in the room I was in – I’d never seen this sort of thing before, and found it very clever.

: Once I dropped off my stuff, I took a walk around the grounds with my camera.

: This is the main house at Denman: what would be the stately home if it were still in private ownership. In it is the front desk, several meeting rooms, the dining room, the bar, the offices for the employees, and some guest rooms. The teaching happens in another building which I never got a picture of, and most of the guest rooms are in still other little buildings. I’d been warned, thankfully, to be prepared to go inside and outside – thankfully it was a joy because the weather was glorious the whole week.

: This was my view most of the time while walking between the main house and my room.

: This mirror’s in the drawing room of the main house. According to a sign there: “The ball hanging from the eagle’s beak has some interesting theories attached to it. One is that years ago, people covered mirrors with cloths during thunderstorms in case the lightning struck the mirror. The ball was supposed to deflect the lightning strike, thus there was no need to cover the mirror. Another theory is that the chain and ball provide a plumb line to hang the mirror correctly. Another theory is that it is simply a decorative feature!” I am curious if there are any other theories – or better yet knowledge – about why this chain and ball might be on this mirror.

: I love chandeliers.

: This is that same main lawn and fountain again, from the other end, and a bit later in the day.

: On my second morning there, I made time to explore the grounds some more. I found this beautifully scenic pond at one end of the property.

: It was spring, so the daffodils were having their day.

: A path went the entire way around the pond.

: On my third morning, I made time to explore the other end of the grounds I hadn’t yet seen. I like this tree.

: I am amused at the way they made the path go around the plant pot.

: I love the idea of this little nook to sit in in the summer, when those vines are all in leaf/bloom.

: I was surprised to see that Denman’s bordered by houses – the way people talk about Denman, I thought it was in the middle of open countryside.

: The main house again.

: Tulips were in bloom everywhere I turned, complete with labels telling us the variety of tulip. I had no idea there were so many varieties!

: I quite like this tree, too.

My favorite pair of photos out of those are these two:

What a difference the angle makes!

And then it was home sweet home. 🙂

Year in Review: Photographic highlights from 2013

Posted on 1 January 2014 by SaraJayne

I always feel daunted by all the reflective posts at this time of year; I generally don’t have deep thoughts in this week between Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe I’m just too busy flomping from the hectic season, I don’t know. Anyway, this year I’ve decided I will at least reflect a bit: here, enjoy a smattering of our photos from the year.

I know, these sorts of posts usually have their place in the days leading up to 31 December, not on 1 January. I’ve always had a problem with punctuality. Ho hum. Besides, the year wasn’t over yet – something interesting could’ve happened!

Chris has found and installed for me a great new photo widget (thanks to John Scalzi for using it so I knew it existed), which I didn’t really explain in my last post. Click on the blue arrow as ever, and then if you want, you can click on any of the photos to start the slideshow view – where you’ll be able to do things like read the whole caption and look at all the photos by using the left and right arrows.

On with the photos!

: A beautiful sunrise near the start of the year – 16 Jan 2013.

: It was a particularly cold and snowy winter last winter. The duck pond where we frequently feed the ducks (pond is the wrong word: the water flows from one end to the other) even partially froze over. – 18 Jan 2013

: A very atmospheric shot from a walk around town on 27 Jan 2013.

: We always celebrate Mardi Gras, though apparently we’re lousy at taking photos of that. Must improve this year. This photo of the king cake I made is our only photographic record of Mardi Gras this year! – 12 Feb 2013

: I went to the county WI meeting in Chesterfield in the spring. It was an incredibly atmospheric morning, and a couple of the photos even show it. – 5 March 2013

: There was one particularly foggy area, making the sun look like the moon. – 5 March 2013

: Chris and I found this notice on a trip to Buxton in March. It struck us as so absurd we snapped photos of it. After weathering so many months of winter, it was quite crumpled, so we could only get a decent shot of half of it at a time (holding the other half steady). – 7 March 2013

: Don’t like the weather? Wait ten minutes, it’ll change. – 2:33pm, 11 March 2013

: See what I mean? – 2:43pm, 11 March 2013

: I went with Charlesworth WI to watch the BBC film one of its game shows, Countdown. It was okay, but I wouldn’t recommend it: we were required to stay for three shows in a row, which was really a bit much. – 12 March 2013

: “You only THINK you’re going on vacation!” – 23 March 2013

: We did make it, thankfully. Here’s Chris towards the beginning of our trip – Bass Pro has wonderful socks, and he needed more. – 23 March 2013

: I got to celebrate my birthday with my family for the first time in years (albeit a bit early, before we set off on our road trip). It was good. Also meant I got to have an ice cream cake, my favorite! – 28 March 2013

: Off we went on our road trip! We’d left Louisiana and made it up to Michigan to find this model lighthouse at a highway rest area. Michigan, being surrounded by the Great Lakes, has (or at least had) gobs of lighthouses. – 2 April 2013

: In Michigan, we visited various relatives. My great aunt Doris’ daughter’s farm is huge – 10,000 acres – and has the huge machinery, silos, etc to match. Here’s me in one of the huge tractors. – 3 April 2013

: We also visited Frankenmuth, Michigan, which among other things had this fun whispering bench. We tested it – it really works. 🙂 – 4 Apr 2013

: The sun was lovely, as was the sky – nearly the whole month we were in the US, we had beautiful, sunny skies. It was a lovely change. – 4 April 2013

: On my birthday, we wound our way through West Virginia on state highways. It was scenic and wonderful. We stopped just before sunset, and from the parking lot of the hotel managed to capture the sunset. It was absolutely stunning. – 5 April 2013

: All the lovely people who wished me well for my birthday couldn’t be with us, of course, since we’d decided to go gallavanting all over creation instead. I brought them in spirit – here’s their cards keeping us company at dinner. – 5 April 2013

: Ahhh, the shave gel is trying to take over! Run for the hills!!! – 7 April 2013

: We were headed for the Blue Ridge Parkway – that’s the Blue Ridge there, part of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s absolutely gorgeous; highly recommended! – 7 April 2013

: The Blue Ridge Parkway passes near Natural Bridge, Virginia, which is truly a sight to behold. When I realized we’d be so near it, I insisted we go there so Chris could experience it. – 7 April 2013

: We visited my grandfather’s memorial garden at Cumberland Gap National Historic Park, where he was a park ranger for many years; he loved that park. It was still quite early in the spring for the garden. – 10 April 2013

: I had to show Chris the Pinnacle Overlook at that park; I have many memories of visiting as a child. Here’s part of the view. – 10 April 2013

: I also had to show Chris the place where you can stand at the join of Tennessee, Kentucky, and Virginia – the tri-state peak. The ranger explained that they’ve changed a lot since I was there last, including making the trail up to this about thrice as long as it was back then. We knew it by the time we’d gotten there! Such a hot day, too. But hey, we both got to stand at the peak! 🙂 – 10 April 2013

: On one of our afternoons in New Orleans, we decided to copy a trip my brother and father had done some months before: heading south out of New Orleans on La Hwy 23, we drove til the road ended and saw what there was to see. We were vastly amused at these guys fishing right next to the No Fishing sign. – 13 April 2013

: We were also very flummoxed by this strange little ornate hut out in the middle of nowhere on that same peninsula. – 13 April 2013

: Another afternoon, I wanted to check out the Botanical Gardens in New Orleans City Park, but they were closed. The sculpture garden was open, though, so we took in some interesting sculptures. I particularly like this one. – 15 April 2013

: We wandered round the French Quarter on this day. There was a wonderful cooling breeze coming off the Mississippi River, so we sat and enjoyed it awhile. – 16 April 2013

: Homeward-bound! – 20 April 2013

: No sooner was I home than I was off again, to Denman College, the WI’s own adult college. It generally offers short residential courses – and absolutely gorgeous grounds. – 1 May 2013

: I was at Denman for a week of sewing with the fabulous May Martin. I looked like this a lot. – 1 May 2013

: Also in May, I made it to one of the exhibits for Sheffield’s celebration of 100 years of stainless steel (invented in that city). These utensils from the 1960s made me laugh. – 13 May 2013

: Also from the stainless steel exhibit at Millenium Gallery was this wedding dress. The outside is made of a mesh of stainless steel fibers. The sample, surprisingly, felt quite lovely. – 13 May 2013

: My newfound sewing confidence led to my first big sewing project: a banner for one of my groups. – 15 June 2013

: For Glossop Carnival, Chris and I helped with two stalls. For the WI stall, Chris made the display board and I put the stuff on it. We served cream teas here, and Barbara did a fabulous job of making a lovely space and organizing everyone. – 6 July 2013

: We also helped with the Transition stall. – 6 July 2013

: Charlesworth Carnival was much easier: I just baked for a few hours one afternoon to help supply the bake sale. – 13 July 2013

: I got to help make a well dressing for the first time! I worked on the large one in the middle. I liked it, and will probably help out again next time. 🙂 – 13 July 2013

: Chris and I went to the retirement party for his longtime friend and boss, Alex. That was an absolutely lovely afternoon, evening, and night! – 16 July 2013

: I helped out with the Inspire Festival by making and maintaining the website; I also helped with the Transition stall again. – 3 August 2013

: Also at Inspire Festival, I found the display set up by a local writing group, Write from the Heart, very amusing. – 3 Aug 2013

: In September was the Charlesworth & Chisworth Village Get Together. There were a few competitions bolted on to make it a bit funner, though the point was to see what’s going on in the two villages – a well-achieved aim, by the sound of it. I won a ribbon or two, as well. 🙂 – 15 Sept 2013

: We really enjoy the Hayfield Show, and this year was no exception. – 22 Sept 2013

: Once again, the chainsaw wood carvers, brothers Andy Burgess and Tim Burgess, were back at the Hayfield Show so we could watch them do their thing. Fascinating! – 22 Sept 2013

: We took a trip to New Mills during its festival, and took in the New Mills Chrysanthemum Society’s Annual Show while we were there. – 28 Sept 2013

: Chris helped me make this entry into a “Spirit of Your WI” county competition for Simmondley WI – and it took 2nd place! Hooray! – 1 Oct 2013

: I visited Carlisle with Charlesworth WI, via the Settle to Carlisle railway, which I’m told is particularly scenic. Unfortunately it was overcast and quite yucky that day, but I enjoyed Carlisle. I visited Carlisle Cathedral. – 4 Oct 2013

: I quite like the ceiling of Carlisle Cathedral – and I like the little angels sticking out just below the ceiling, too. Unfortunately, you can’t really make them out in this photo. A better photo is here. – 4 Oct 2013

: I also visited Carlisle Castle. – 4 Oct 2013

: We went to the Museum of Science and Industry (MOSI) on Chris’ birthday (and a few other days) this year. This time, with that perfect sign for BRAINS in the background, I got him to impersonate a zombie. He did it a bit too well, if you ask me… 😉 – 8 Oct 2013

: Chris gearing up to blow out his birthday candles. 🙂 – 8 Oct 2013

: I had a lovely trip to the south of the county, near Ashbourne, for a WI day of Autumn Arrangements and Amazing Cakes. It was a glorious day, and a beautiful place the hall was in. Tis a bit flatter in the south of the county, but I was still sorry to go inside! – 17 Oct 2013

: I learned a thing or two about flower arranging that day – most of all, it’s nowhere near as difficult as I’d thought. I quite like the pumpkin arrangement, and may do that for Thanksgiving next year. – 17 Oct 2013

: Chris and I went to Whitby, Yorkshire. That was another lovely day. – 20 Oct 2013

: I was there to help one of my groups, Walk the Wheel, celebrate its first birthday. – 27 Oct 2013

: This gorgeous sunset heralded the Glossop Christmas Lights Switch On Festival, which was also fabulous. – 30 Nov 2013

: Chris isn’t getting the presents – the presents are getting Chris! Aaaaack! – 25 Dec 2013

: Cass is most definitely a box cat. – 25 Dec 2013

: She emerged to play with some of the wrapping, though. – 25 Dec 2013

: She’s also drawn to things that make crinkly noises, like tissue paper and carrier bags. I think she had a good Christmas. – 25 Dec 2013

: My amazing hubby made this beautiful clarinet stand for me! It comes complete with a drawer for my bits and bobs! I love it! Thank you, Chris! – 25 Dec 2013

Happy Birthday, Logan! — A Trip to Chatsworth

Posted on 28 December 2013 by SaraJayne

Today’s my eldest nephew’s 9th birthday – Happy Birthday, Logan! We’ve sent him a book that is set in my local area: Chatsworth House, a stately home dating to the 1550s which is the home of the Duke of Devonshire. Since I’ve visited Chatsworth House, I thought Logan might like to see some photos of what it looks like these days, either before or after he reads that book. Others might enjoy it, too.

We went on 30 August, 2008, so it’s a bit of a blast from the past to look at these photos, but I’m sure it hasn’t changed too much since then.

First we explored the grounds …

: First we explored some of the grounds.

: The sign only tells us about the grounds (Chatsworth Park), not the structure.

: There wasn’t a sign anywhere describing this, so we were left wondering what it was.

: This is where Chris got all nervous that I’d fall in. Silly man.

: There were cars as far as the eye could see — we went on the weekend they’d chosen (unbeknownst to us) to have a Country Fair, which people came from far and wide to experience. Considering how many cars were there, and how small the area for the fair was, I’m shocked they could even walk through it.

: Just ignore the cars.

The part of the house they’ve opened to the public is the part they built in anticipation of King William and Queen Mary (reigned 1689-1702) coming to visit. How the other half lives: houseguests? Time to build another wing onto the house! The visit never happened, but it does make for a good showpiece to open for tours. There weren’t any guided tours available, so I got an audio tour and listened to that.

Then we went into the house …

: Seen from just inside its surrounding wall; this is one of the front gardens.

: A cool gate in the garden.

: Looking out from in front of the house. This was the most impressive (to me) of the front gardens.

: Three US Rebel Flags, the star spangled banner, the union jack, the English flag, and the Welsh flag were all present in the Country Fair..

: The courtyard. These bronze greyhound dogs were made by Nicola Hicks, and acquired by the current Duke and Duchess in 1994.

: The ceiling of the Painted Hall.

: The staircase of the Painted Hall.

: Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefor art thou oh Romeo?

: A view from the upper floor of the Painted Hall. They didn’t let us onto the Juliet balcony, alas.

: Everything was incredibly ornate.

: These stairs were built in the 1600s and wrap around along three walls, if memory serves. It was originally built without that railing you see, and was quite radical for its time, using a cantilevered system. It was shored up in the 1800s with the cast iron railing you see, cleverly crafted into sculptural ornament, when it was found the stairs had weakened and needed support at the outer edge of the steps.

: Above those stairs.

: Not everything is perfect; these things are awaiting refurbishing. It’s apparently really hard to deal with multi-century-aged tapestries. Tis why we’re here: many titled landowners have opened their fine houses to gain the revenue so as to have the money to keep their places (and things) up. I do wish they’d do away with half the furniture in this hallway, put all the tapestries on one wall, and let us actually get a good look at the tapestries (walking through the hall, roped off, of course).

: The room we’re in and several that follow were constructed in anticipation of King William & Queen Mary’s arrival to visit. The Great Chamber is where they would hold court. It sits on a corner, and this is the view out of one side.

: This is the ceiling of the Great Chamber, the room the king and queen would have used to hold court. The ornate paintings on the ceiling continue throughout the state rooms they expected the king and queen to use. Each one illustrates a Greek myth. It’s said they all pay homage to William and Mary in various ways.

: From the other side, we can see the Emperor Fountain (more on that later), along with a sculpture in the current Duke and Duchess’ collection.

: These thrones were in the State Drawing Room, where the king and queen could take care of business with select members of the Court. These chairs were used by King George III and Queen Charlotte in 1761; the 4th Duke got to keep them as a perk of his job as Lord Chamberlain.

: Everything was ornate. Seriously, everything. The cabinets are done by, or in the manner of, the French cabinet maker Andre-Charles Boulle, and are veneered with turtleshell, pewter, and brass. The housekeepers daren’t take a cloth to clean these, my audio tour told me, lest a cloth accidentally dislodge a brass piece from the veneer and cause thousands of pounds’ worth of necessary restoration work. Yikes.

: The State Music Room. More such cabinets. This was originally the Ante-Chamber, but was re-named by the 6th Duke, when he inserted a door into the center of the wall — not to go anywhere, but to showcase a painting of a violin that looked like a real violin was hanging behind the door. Really.

: Oh yes, there’s also this harpsichord in the music room.

: Some tourist probably knocked the candle off-kilter. Those tourists!

: This toilet service was likely a gift to Queen Mary II in honor of her marriage to King William III, given Mary Countess of Devonshire, wife of the first Duke, in recognition of her husband’s support of William in the 1688 revolution. Toilet services were used during the morning ritual of the levee, which could last several hours, during which the lady would receive visitors.

: This gorgeous chandelier was in a really small room, just beyond the State Closet, which was the only place the king and queen could go to be alone. They had to be in the closet. Not their bedroom, I note. Royalty, I’ll never understand them.

: The chapel. Remaining unaltered from its original form, built between 1688 and 1693, this chapel has “Doubting Thomas” painted over the altar, and some fantastic carvings in the limewood by Samuel Watson and partners.

: The altar – check out the limewood carvings. And Aunt SJ, listening to the audio tour! This chapel was used daily for a couple of centuries, if memory serves, and weekly until sometime last century, and is now used primarily for special occassions.

: This room was really cool. Ironically, the family got most of its wealth (and lands) when King Henry VIII broke up the monasteries; the 6th Duke got the oak panelling and carved heads in this room at an auction; their original home was in a monastery (this one German, though). This room showcases the 6th Duke’s eclectic taste, and I much enjoyed it. From the house guide: The 6th Duke gave his own account (1845) of the various uses to which this room was put: “… and to this room I remember banishing the learned Parr, when he insisted on having a room to smoke in — a desire then (1813) considered most atrocious and derogatory…”

: Diana Bathing. This is in The Grotto, a room whose sole purpose seems to be to support the Great Stairs above it. This bas-relief was bought in 1692, and looked quite nifty.

: Chris was taking lots of photos while waiting for me to finish this segment of my audio tour.

: The Ante-Library. I can’t believe we didn’t get pictures of the Library and Ante-Library, but we do have pics of the books on the shelves. They all look much more impressive than any book collection I’ll ever have, but then, the audio tour made sure to point out that the Dukes have been book *collectors*, not so much book *readers*. They have some 50,000 books in the entire house, some 5,000 of which are from before the printing press. Wow.

Then we looked around outside the house a bit …

: The back of the house. That upper-most floor is actually open to the elements! Chris’ mum said that it was said that it’s like that so that if the family feels like getting some fresh air, they need not be down among the commoners.

: Another of the sculpture collection.

: A very long and skinny greenhouse.

: More of the back of the house.

: The Emperor Fountain is trying to attack Chris!

: The side of the house.

: Headed back towards the car.

: The Peak District – I live just on the edge of this, England’s first National Park. Absolutely stunning scenery.

Then we were home! Hope yall enjoyed the trip. 🙂

Whitby, part 2

Posted on 4 November 2013 by SaraJayne

Carrying on from the first installment, we’ll finish our wander through Whitby in this exciting second half! 😉

After admiring the coast for awhile, we decided to wander through the town a bit and see what there was to see.

Wandering through the town …

Some of the roads are very narrow. This was just wide enough for a car – and there were doors along that wall. Watch that first step! Thankfully, the super-narrow stretch didn’t last too long, and we had a bit of sidewalk then.

Any ideas what this thing on the left is? It was in an antique shop full of breakables, and we were laden with backpacks, so I dared not go in to ask. It’s wood, with purple velvet, a half-cylinder compartment about 6″ or so long, and then a smaller compartment next to it. With the ink staining that smaller compartment, Chris wondered if it was for writing – I can see storing ink in the small space and the pen next to it, but what’s up with the velvet surface? Anyone happen to know?

The Whitby Gothic Weekend happens twice a year – apparently Whitby was chosen because of its Dracula connections. I forgot to mention we passed The Dracula Experience earlier, down by the waterfront. Whitby is where Bram Stoker’s Dracula landed in England, after the ship ran aground there after a bad storm, and Whitby has, to an extent, capitalized on it – so it was a Goth-friendly place readymade for the Gothic Weekend. Chris was surprised this was the only Goth shop we saw, however – apparently the coverage in Fortean Times makes it sounds like the place is just crawling with Goth shops, etc. In fairness, we only explored part of the town, so perhaps there’s more we didn’t see.

I was so struck that this Poundland – an everything’s £1 shop – had these historic photographs/paintings on its window shutters. They’re all by Frank Meadow Sutcliffe (1853-1941), and these are from the Sutcliffe Gallery. Now that I look at it on the map, I realize we may have even passed that gallery later, when we were headed back to the bus. Huh. Might go inside to explore next time!

Also, we found an American-style diner! I glanced at the menu: it’s only cosmetically American, but hey, it was a bit novel nonetheless. 🙂

Halloween isn’t done as much here as it is in the US, so this window display was something to pause and look at – and then when I saw the sign above it, “Suppliers to Hotel & Catering”, I just cracked up. I had to get Chris to take a picture (all my batteries had died by this point) – you can see his ghostly self if you look carefully. 😉 Also, though no one local here seems to understand what gourds are when I use the word, the gourds in the right-hand window were actually labelled as such! Word choices are so very localized – even down to individual households, really.

The last photo is of the rose garden at St Hilda’s Catholic Church. It was lovely – you’ll need to click on it for the larger image to see it properly.

St John’s church is a Church of England church (Anglican) directly across the street from St Hilda’s. What struck us about this building, really, was the diminished soot covering the walls. It’s not clean enough to have actually been cleaned*, yet it’s not covered in pollution like the buildings I’m more used to seeing. Chris told me they didn’t do as much industry – mills, etc – up here in Whitby as they did down in our part. Not hard to believe – the air hanging thick with smog from the 40+ mills in my town was infamous. The Industrial Revolution, born in our county of Derbyshire, did have quite a lot of downsides – massive pollution was one of them.

* Either by sandblasting or the really cool-sounding method they used inside John Rylands Library. As I recall (I can’t find mention of it online anywhere), the tour guides told us they sprayed a special foam that clung to the stone, then peeled it off. The pollution came off, I expect with a bit of the stone. They pointed out the corners where they’d not been able to clean it properly, as contrast. The corners were black; the sandstone is a dazzling array of light colors. When they did it, they got an entirely different building when they finished.

We were vastly amused at the Black Hole Ahead sign – glad they warned us! We didn’t find it, alas.

Exploring the park …

We found ourselves at the entrance to Pannett Park, so we wandered inside to see what there was to see. The first thing we found was the Lily Pond, which was quite tranquil – at least, until other people showed up!

We wandered along, and spotted the hugest monkey puzzle tree I’ve ever seen!

It was at the entrance to the Jurassic Garden, which is, as the sign told us:

A pathway through the past

The path you’re on takes you through the Jurassic period. Each band represents a rock layer from the Yorkshire coast – the colors of the rocks and the length of each band is in proportion to the depth of the rock. The first rock, where you are standing, is the Redcar Formation and is the oldest, laid down about 195 million years ago. As you walk along the path you will travel through 60 million years of Jurassic time!

In each band of rock you will find casts of fossils, including ammonites, corals, and dinosaur footprints. These impressions are taken from actual fossiles in the Whitby Museum collection. … Alongside the path there are plants from the Jurassic period, including tree ferns, gingkos, and a monkey puzzle tree.

I liked the crocodile best, myself.

The garden at the top of the park – surrounding Whitby Museum and Art Gallery – was guarded by two gardeners – one here, and one on the other side of the garden. Thankfully, they let us pass – in and out again! We reckoned the sundial might work a tad better if it weren’t in the shade.

I was a bit confused about these rectangles patches for planting flowers, just in the middle of the grass. You can see one planted in the middle background behind the sundial, and one unplanted one in the far background.

Our second rainbow of the day! Ironically for living in such a damp land, I see rainbows very rarely. I usually feel the presence of Papa, my grandfather, when I see one. I do hope he enjoyed touring around Whitby with us that day. 🙂 We took time to smell the roses in this garden, while enjoying the rainbow.

The Play Area was neat! I never had anything that nice when I was a kid!

Just past the play area, another view of Whitby. I’ll bet loads of local residents want to shoot whoever allowed Whitby Hospital to take such a hideous shape (it’s that black and white monstrosity in the centre of the frame). In terms of styles, the 1970s have a lot to answer for! Hopefully the contents are better than the package.

Our last stop was the South Seas Garden, which is filled with Maori art (the Maori are the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand). The sign next to the figure is informative, if you’re curious.

This chunk of the park is right up against the perimeter, so from bird’s eye view, you’d see an eye-shaped path, with the sidewalk around the outside of the park forming one part, and the sidewalk through this chunk forming the other part. While we were there, this man and little boy passed by – the man stayed on the outside sidewalk, but the very focused and determined little boy (about 4 years old, I’d guess – he was walking quite well without assistance) picked up a heap of fallen leaves just outside the garden, then carried them through the garden, then met back up with the man (father? uncle? friend of the family? never know) at the other end of the little garden, having tossed his leaves into the air just as soon as he got out of the garden and back onto the main sidewalk. Kids. *shrug*

Wandering back to the bus …

Once we’d seen all of Pannett Park, we decided we should wander back towards the bus.

A few things caught my eye, like this intricate painting on the side of a bookshop, juxtaposed with the street name sign next to it. Also, I know the pub is named after one of Captain Cook’s ships, but it still strikes me as a treasure trove of puns to name the pub The Resolution.

The Sherlocks shopfront looked interesting – I should’ve gone in and had a look around, really. I did wonder if someone made a typo originally on the Angel Hotel (Angler) and they’ve just rolled with it since.

This busker‘s set up was delightful – and the music wasn’t bad, either, so I stayed and enjoyed a song.

This stone is Whitby’s war memorial. I’m used to cenotaphs (which I now see come in all different shapes), so this was a bit of a surprise. The cenotaphs I’m used to seeing have the names of the locals who were killed in war engraved onto plaques attached to them. The sign informs us that there used to be a War Memorial Hospital in Whitby, but it’s gone, and besides, they’d realized not all the names that should have been listed were. So they decided to create this memorial instead: a double plinth of locally quarried sandstone at the bottom, and a piece of Masi Quartizite from the far north of Norway, where the Green Howards (the Yorkshire Regiment) saw action in 1940, and lost many men. They don’t plan to engrave names this time; they’re leaving a simple “Lest we Forget” engraved in the sandstone.

The sky was very moody. Also, the gates outside the public toilets were oddly arty.

It was nearly 5pm, so we prepared for the long ride home by hitting the loo and grabbing a coke for me. Then the bus turned up, so off we went.

A few shots on the way home …

On the road from Whitby to Pickering, we passed Royal Air Force base Fylingdales, a listening station – a relic of the cold war, the driver told us.

We also saw this very strange cloud.

Then Papa said goodbye with a full double rainbow – we weren’t far enough away for it to show up all at once on camera, but at least coaches have great big huge picture windows, so we saw it all perfectly (helped that it was on our side).

I was absolutely shattered – too little sleep the night before, followed by a long day – so I promptly fell asleep then, for about an hour. Then Chris and I chattered away the miles until we got home, a bit after 9pm. A very late dinner was immediately followed by bedtime!

Whitby, part 1

Posted on 24 October 2013 by SaraJayne

This past Sunday, we went on a day trip to Whitby, North Yorkshire (it’s a seaside town about 115 miles northeast of here). We went by coach (coaches are charter buses, but in addition to private charters, they run periodic trips that anyone can join without having to fill the coach). We weren’t impressed with the company we went with, but we had a good time in Whitby nonetheless. This post got rather long and full of photos, so I’m breaking it into two parts. Hopefully the load time for you will be measured in something less than glacial movements!

We both love fall (autumn), and love to see the show the trees put on for us. This trip was advertised as “Autumn Tints”, and was supposed to take us past trees in color. It didn’t, but ho hum. Just another kick to get the finances in order to buy yet another car so we can go on our own trips!

Off we go – a few shots from the coach along the way.

As always, click on any photo to see the larger version. It was a gray, rainy, yucky day when we left. It was lovely in Whitby, though, so I’m glad we didn’t let that put us off – you just never can tell. We were on the motorway (interstate) for part of the way. When I lament that there are too many streetlights here, I mean it: I’m leaving this photo with the streetlight in the way because I had too many like this. They put them every 25 feet or so on both sides of most of the road – and then they wonder why we can’t see the stars at night.

When we finally arrived in the Yorkshire Dales & Moors – which I’ve heard so much about – I remarked to Chris that it looks a lot like the Peak District. It is actually really similar geography; the Peak District is just more popular than Yorkshire because of its easy access for the city folk (from Manchester, London, etc). I related this to my friend Wendy who – I can’t remember now – either her husband or herself comes from Yorkshire. She replied, “Long may it continue!” Heh.

When we passed this feature, I heard a girl and her mother near us. The mother said this is called Dinosaur Bowl; the girl asked if it’s because a dinosaur sat there and that’s the shape of it’s bum. Made Chris and I giggle. 🙂

We’re here! We wandered through the commercial part of town first …

We got on the coach at 8am, and we arrived in Whitby at 12:30. It’s not actually that far – we were doing pickups for one and a half hours after we left Glossop, and then there was a half-hour stop at a really depressing motorway service station (these are like the ones you get on toll road interstates: exits with a few places to eat, restrooms open to the public, gas, usually some picnic tables, plus these have hotels in them). I was irritated, since I’d been told we’d arrive in Whitby around 11am – 150% of the estimated travel time is quite an error!

Anyway, so we were there. We took a few pictures as we made our way towards a restaurant Chris had scoped out reviews for the night before. We usually take a packed lunch whereever we go – less variable in quality, quicker, and easier than hunting for restaurants – but I really wanted some seafood since we’d be in a fishing village.

It was low tide when we arrived. The difference in height of the sea is something I first ever noticed in Blackpool (another British seaside town); I really don’t remember this from when I lived in Hawaii – and I seem to recall going to the beach quite frequently there. I don’t remember it in Virginia, but beachgoing was rare there. The tide height difference is so much in Whitby that these boats were just sitting on the mud! Wonder if you could get a quick paint job on your boat during low tide…

Chris forgot his sunglasses – so we have him to thank for the sunshine. We finally found a restaurant we wanted to eat in – The Marine – which was very small and crowded, but it was nice, and the food was good. Chris had fish and chips – he doesn’t usually eat cod, but this was sufficiently good that he ate it (the menu hadn’t specified whether it was cod or haddock). I had the smoked haddock and mustard mashed potatoes, which was also tasty.

The hallway back to the restrooms, however, is covered in a black and white wallpaper that, in that confined space, made my eyes just about cross. In a room it would’ve looked nice, I think. The toilet stall I used had this picture hanging on the back wall. In case you don’t look at the larger version, I’ll just tell you: that gold fish looks distinctly like it is frowning. It made me “…” so much that I snapped this picture to tell Chris about it. Might make some think twice about ordering fish, I guess…

Now feeling much better, we continued walking down the wharf to see what all there was. Above, you see the view of whence we’ve come. Below is the famous restaurant in Whitby for fish & chips – The Magpie – complete with the line (queue) going out to the street. Chris’d taken one look at those reviews and immediately decided to avoid them – apparently the portions are far too small and entirely too pricey. I had a look at the menu as we passed to see what qualified as too expensive – £12 for a single plate of fish & chips is rather a lot, really, when you can get a takeaway fish & chips in many places for £4. Obviously there’s some overhead for it being a sit-down restaurant, but not that much. As for the portion size, what’s listed on the menu doesn’t look small to me – all I can guess is that they’re not actually sending out what the menu says. What struck me most about this was that they don’t skin the haddock before breading it and deep-frying it. EW! Nosiree, count me out!

The tide’s been coming in – ever so slowly – while we’ve been eating.

Below, some of the entertainments – this part looks just like the commercialized, gaudy part of Blackpool, meant to part you from your money. We whipped through here pretty quickly – interestingly, the fish market is dead center in this mess – stopping only to try to buy a map, but the machine ate my pound. Stupid thing. There was a map on display on the board, though, so we looked at that a bit, and found a few interesting-sounding things. Then we kept wandering.

We found the lifeboat museum, but it was clogged with people, so we wandered on. We also saw this pirate ship 😉 running tours. There were many boats running tours and sea trips of varying lengths, which I was interested to go on, but was worried about the time, since we only had the 4.5 hours there. Something for our next trip!

The last thing we noticed on The Strip, as I’ll call it, were these completely random figures flanking the doors to this restaurant. Um, okay. Whatever blows your skirt!

We wandered along the beach awhile …

We found the way down to the beach, and walked along it for a bit.

Chris was so disappointed that there were no critters in these pools.

We also found this guy balancing rocks on their points. We didn’t stop to talk to him, so we havne’t a clue why he was doing it. It being such an impermanent thing, I vaguely wonder if he’s Buddhist, actually. Either way, they were cool to look at!

These are beach huts. I’m told they’re Very British – so much so that the winner of a WI photo competition on the theme of “British Summer” was a photo of some beach huts (nicer than these, mind). I never noticed any in Blackpool, the only other British seaside town I’d been to before Sunday, so I was very confused when I was first told about them. Apparently, they’re to give you someplace to change into your swimsuit.

Chris was more confused to see them there on Sunday – he wondered why people these days don’t just wear their swimsuits under their clothes, like he did when he was a boy and his family would visit Blackpool for a week. Once I saw that they have a place to put a padlock, though, I realized they could also be useful as lockers. When Chris was a boy, his mum would watch their stuff when they went swimming (she doesn’t like swimming); if it was just him and I who went, we’d both want to swim, though, so we’d need somewhere to keep our street clothes, towels, keys, etc. Plus I suppose you could wait out rain in them. Besides, they might have a kettle, etc, in them as well, for all we know.

The beach huts were along the path back up to the street level, so we went up there. We thought the large building just there might be the science museum we’d seen on the map, but it was yet more arcade, etc, “family entertainment” instead. Past that, we found a theatre (for plays), and just in front of that were a couple of food vendors, including this Tibetan one! I’m interested in Tibet, so would’ve liked to try some Tibetan food – if only we hadn’t just eaten! Hopefully they’ll be there on our next trip.

We also got a better view of the maze we’d passed when we’d walked on the beach – which was in use! 🙂

This sign vaguely amused us, so we snapped a photo of it. We were also very confused by this arrangement of bricks and fence. It’s as though there was an opening that’s now been bricked up, but that fence is only waist high or thereabouts, so it’d be a very short opening! Really wonder what happened there.

We found some monuments …

We were wandering back the way we’d come (except much higher), and on the corner (as it were), where harbor meets ocean, they’ve put a few monuments and a lot of benches. While snapping photos of them, I saw the rainbow! You can just see it in the left picture above and in the right picture below (you might need to look at the large version).

The statue is of Captain Cook, who gets credit for discovering Australia. He apprenticed in Whitby, was based in Whitby, and used Whitby-built ships for his three “voyages of discovery,” as the sign put it. I thought the coat of arms (?) on the front was really nifty.

I’m not sure what the other monument here is – it looks like a ship’s mast with a ship atop it. There wasn’t a sign, so your guess is as good as mine.

The sky was very moody.

The whale bone arch is impressive-looking, though a bit morbid: these are the jaw bones of a blue whale. The whaling industry was big in Whitby for many decades – I’m heartened that the sign tells us they used all the parts of the whale, at least. These bones came from Alaska – a twinning thing, I think (the sign is hard to read); Anchorage and North Slope Borough are credited. Apparently the original ones, erected in 1963, are preserved in Whitby Archives Heritage Centre.

From this corner we also had lovely views of the rest of Whitby – here’s the other side of the harbor.

We wandered away from the monuments …

…and the first thing we were struck by was this building that looks so very out of place. The word – Streonshalh – is the Viking word for Whitby, the internet tells us. It’s flats now, but I’d be shocked if it was built as flats. And look at it – it’s assymetrical. The bit on the left could’ve been an extension, but regardless, the rest of it is still assymetrical. Very strange. We can’t find anything else online about it, annoyingly.

We saw this steam-powered bus go by! Delightful – and the friendly driver waved at us while we were snapping photos. It’s the Vintage Spirit. Then we found a bench to sit on and chill out, from where we saw the Board Inn. Chris didn’t realize it was spelled that way, and thought it was Bored Inn, and went on about it for quite awhile before I decided to correct him. Still, who does name their place that? Their website is entirely lacking in explanation, meh.

We also had chance to admire St Mary’s Church and the ruins of Whiby Abbey, together with its 199 steps, and the many people going up and down them. Sadly, we were on the wrong side of the harbour and just didn’t have time to make that climb. Oh, shucks.

My friend Chris (a different one) tells me that next time, we have to climb up those steps and count them all, and when we get to the top, we’ll have the Whitby Wibbly Wobblies – since our legs will be ready to give out! Something else to look forward to … 😉

Panning to the right, we see more of Whitby. After our rest on this bench, we’ll head off in that direction – you’ll see those pictures in the exciting conclusion, “Whitby, part 2”!

Adventures in Dampland

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