No.77

Any idea which famous artist painted these three portraits?

Answer is at the end of this blog

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Perhaps the following quotation applies to me?

I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there. (Herb Caen)

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In the years between the two World Wars folks were very class-conscious, much more than they are today.

As young children my sister and I lived in a tenement in a well-kept area, where the stairs in the closes were swept down and washed every week, and the back-courts kept tidy. The people - and their children - were well-behaved, and altogether it was a good environment in which to be brought up.

At the other end of the street however, it was a different story. Large families lived in small houses, many of them room-and-kitchens with outside toilets, and it was clear that, with the bread-winner often unemployed, they had difficulty clothing and feeding themselves. In another part of the town, the houses were much worse and there were stories of rowdiness and drunkenness. Certainly we children would never stray into that area.

At the end of our part of the street there was a little lane which led through to a much more posh part. Most of the houses there were big detached villas, each with a good-size garden, and those folks were just a bit higher up on the social scale.

But there was a further level still, and the people who belonged to that class lived in Lenzie. The houses were even bigger with very large gardens, and we knew that the folk there had servants !

And those were the five social classes, or so we believed. For many of course, the great aim was to progress further up the scale, and that was what happened to my family. When I was ten years old, my father bought a semi-detached house in the area through the little lane, and we left our tenement life behind.  (It’s interesting that my father’s family didn’t approve of our move. People in our class didn’t buy houses, it was implied.)

Much later on, when Jean and I were married with three children, our second home was a 7-apartment Victorian “town house” in Lenzie. But oh no, we were certainly not rich!

It’s now almost 35 years since we left Lenzie and moved to my present home in Auchinloch.

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This is a great view of Multnomah Falls in Oregon, 

showing the footbridge and the upper and lower falls.

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One Perfect Rose

Dorothy Parker 1893-1967

A single flower he sent me, since we met.

All tenderly his messenger he chose;

Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet –

One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;

“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”

Love long has taken for his amulet

One perfect rose.

Why is it no one’s ever sent me yet

One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah, no – it’s always just my luck to get

One perfect rose.

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The three portraits were painted by

Pablo Picasso.

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Next post Tuesday

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No.76

In youth the days are short and the years are long. In old age the years are short and the days are long. (Pope Paul VI)

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A haiku

too old to travel 
far away places are mine
on the internet

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It was towards the end of the 19th century that four of my father’s uncles went to the USA with the idea of settling there. Two of them Robert and James decided to stay and within a few years their families had joined them.

Today there are Jaaps in different parts of America, and many of them are direct descendants of Robert and James. 

Since we created the Jaap website, quite a few of our American cousins have contacted us from time to time, and one in particular used to send me most interesting e-mails.
One of his messages began with this great picture of a 1909 Ford and was followed by some fascinating statistics showing how Americans lived 100 years ago.

The average life expectancy in America was 47 years.

Only 14% of homes had a bath.

Only 8% had a phone.

There were only 8,000 cars in America

Only 144 miles of paved roads.

In most cities the speed limit was 10 mph.

90% of doctors had no college education.

Most women washed their hair just once a month, and used borax or egg yolk for shampoo.

The main causes of death were pneumonia, influenza, tuberculosis, diarrhoea and heart disease.

2 out of every 10 adults were illiterate.

18% of homes had at least one full-time servant.

More than 95% of births took place at home. 

The e-mail closed with the thought - what will things be like in another 100 years' time? What, indeed!

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Thanks to Pexels.com for this super cloud study . . .

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This is one of my favourite poems . . .

I Opened a Book
Julia Donaldson

I opened a book and in I strode.
Now nobody can find me.
I've left my chair, my house, my road,
My town and my world behind me.
I'm wearing the cloak, I've slipped on the ring,
I've swallowed the magic potion.
I've fought with a dragon, dined with a king
And dived in a bottomless ocean.
I opened a book and made some friends.
I shared their tears and laughter
And followed their road with its bumps and bends
To the happily ever after.
I finished my book and out I came.
The cloak can no longer hide me.
My chair and my house are just the same,
But I have a book inside me.

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Finally, just a pretty sunset to look at . . .

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Next post Friday

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No.75

 Part of a famous forest path

in Ballymoney, Co. Antrim

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The first time I went on holiday without my parents I was 26 years old. Of course, during and immediately after the war, holidays were not possible for most people, and for me those years were followed by the time I spent in the RAF. 

My sister Rita and I went on this holiday together and for 6 days we lived on a cargo ship, along with perhaps a dozen other cruise passengers. From Glasgow we sailed down the Clyde over to Ireland where our first port of call was Dublin, then on to Waterford and finally Cork. 

We had ample time ashore, for cargo had to be unloaded and loaded at each port. From Dublin we visited the popular holiday resort Bray and from Cork we had two trips - one to Killarney and the other to Blarney Castle where Rita kissed the famous Blarney Stone.


No, this isn't Rita! I include this photo just to show the position you need to take in order to kiss the stone.

I remember the sea was very rough indeed when we left Cork for the homeward journey, and most of us were unwell. When we woke the next morning however, the weather was just perfect and we had a great sail all the way home. Since it was Sunday an ecumenical service was held on the deck, conducted by the wireless operator, and guess who played the piano for the hymns? 

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I’ve been in Ireland twice, the second time was perhaps 18 or 19 years ago when Jean and I went on a coach tour to Sligo on the west coast.

From Glasgow we travelled to Stranraer, by ferry to Belfast and then through Northern Ireland into the Republic.

One of our day excursions took us to Knock which has become a world-famous tourist attraction since the visit of Pope John Paul II in 1979. A hundred years earlier there had been many reports of the Virgin Mary along with St Joseph and St John appearing to local people. We were surprised at the large number of shops whose windows were absolutely crammed with statuettes, ornaments and religious souvenirs.

When we assembled for breakfast on our final day, we were shocked to learn that the fuel had been siphoned from the tank of our bus. There was considerable delay waiting for the Gardai, and we just made the ferry minutes before it was due to sail.

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The Giant's Causeway

consists of approximately 40,000 interlocking basalt columns in County Antrim on the north coast of Ireland.

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Finally, this was a popular Irish ballad when I was a boy.

 The Garden where the Praties Grow
words by Johnny Patterson

She was just the sort of creature boys, that Nature did intend
To walk right through the world my boys, without the Grecian bend
Nor did she wear a chignon I'd have you all to know
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow

Have you ever been in love my boys, or have you felt the pain?
I'd sooner be in jail myself than be in love again
For the girl I loved was beautiful I'd have you all to know
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow

Says I: "My pretty Kathleen, I'm tired of single life
And if you've no objection, sure, I'll make you my sweet wife"
She answered me right modestly and curtsied very low
"O you're welcome to the garden where the praties grow"

Says I: "My pretty Kathleen, I hope that you'll agree"
She was not like your city girls who say you're making free
Says she: "I'll ask my parents and tomorrow I'll let you know
If you'll meet me in the garden where the praties grow"

O the parents they consented and we're blessed with children three
Two boys just like their mother and a girl the image of me
And now we're goin' to train them up the way they ought to go
For to dig in the garden where the praties grow

She was just the sort of creature boys, that Nature did intend
To walk right through the world my boys, without the Grecian bend
Nor did she wear a chignon I'd have you all to know
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow

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Next post Tuesday

No.74

Jean and I were married 64 years ago today in Sandyford-Henderson Memorial Church in Glasgow. She died on 31st January 2016.

It was when I started working at the church community centre in Glasgow that I met Jean. She was a member of that church, was leader of the Brownies and a frequent visitor to the centre.

Our friendship gradually developed and in the summer of 1953 we went on holiday together to Portsoy. Although we were guests in the local hotel and had our meals there, we were boarded out in a house a short distance away, Jean having a room upstairs while I was downstairs.

There was a piano in the hotel, and we always remembered that one of the guests, in her Aberdeenshire accent, would ask me to give them a “tunie.”

We became engaged in August of that year. 

Jean and her father

Arriving at the church

1954 was the year in which -

Roger Bannister ran the 4 minute mile
The Vietnam War began
There was a hydrogen bomb test at Bikini Atoll in the Pacific
Senator Joseph McCarthy began his anti-Communist hearings in America
The Nobel Prize for Literature went to Ernest Hemingway

Films popular that year included -

The Belles of St. Trinian’s
Brigadoon
The Dam Busters
Doctor in the House
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
White Christmas

On radio there was Hancock’s Half-Hour, the Goon Show and the Billy Cotton Band Show.
On TV the first soap to be screened in the UK was the Grove Family, and 1954 was the year which saw the controversial play 1984.

At the back - my father, Jean's father and my cousin John.

With Mary the Matron of Honour is the flower girl Jane a niece of Jean's.

On the left is Jean's mother and on the right my mother.

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Our wedding, which used the Church of Scotland form of marriage, was conducted by my uncle Rev George Hardie who was a Baptist. At that time he was the Secretary of the Baptist Union in Scotland.

The matron of honour was Jean’s friend Mary, the best man was my cousin John, Rita my sister played the organ and Jean’s brother-in-law Angus was church officer.

My parents

With my parents, my sister Rita and her fiancé Richmond.

They were married later that summer.

After the reception, we went to Central Station where we joined the overnight sleeper to London Euston. From Paddington Station we took the train to Newton Abbot, north Devon, and there we spent the first part of our honeymoon.

Among places we visited were Torquay, Paignton, Buckfast Abbey and we had a sail on the River Dart.

In one of the hotels in Newton Abbot we were befriended by 3 or 4 older men who entertained us with their songs. This was long before Karaoke!

When our time there was over, we returned to London for a week of sight-seeing. We stayed with the parents of Leonard Lewis, my friend from our time in the RAF. Some years earlier my own parents had acted as hosts to Mr and Mrs Lewis when they visited Scotland.

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Next post 
Friday and then updates every
Tuesday and Friday

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Today's post concludes the present series.

A new blog

Who says poems have to rhyme

begins on Tuesday and will be updated daily

whosayspoemshavetorhyme.blogspot.com

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No.73

Chalk Cliffs on Rugen
Casper David Friedrich
1774-1840

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The Ash Grove
Words by Thomas Oliphant

Down yonder green valley, where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading I pensively rove
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander,
Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove;
‘T was there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing,
I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart!
Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing,
Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.

Still glows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree;
Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
But what are the beauties of nature to me?
With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
All day I go mourning in search of my love;
Ye echoes, oh, tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
"She sleeps, 'neath the green turf down by the ash grove."

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Sitting in the Garden
Giovanni Boldini 1842-1931

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A Terrible Infant
Frederick Locker-Lampson 1821-95

I recollect a nurse called Ann,
Who carried me about the grass,
And one fine day a fine young man
Came up and kissed the pretty lass.

She did not make the least objection.
Thinks I “Aha!
When I can talk I’ll tell Mama”
- And that’s my earliest recollection.

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Namasté

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No.72

The Geppa Pavilion of the Katsura Imperial Villa, Kyoto

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Solitude
Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1850-1919

Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain. 

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Reflections on the Thames
by Atkinson Grimshaw
1836-93

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There was a time when civil wars were common in Japan. The story is told of a Zen master who refused to flee from his village despite the approach of a ruthless invading army. 

 Seeing that all the villagers had fled and curious about the one person who had stayed, the general sought out the Zen master. When the latter didn’t show any deference to him, the general was angry.

“You fool,” he shouted, reaching for his sword, “don’t you realise you are standing before a man who could run you through without blinking an eye?"

"And do you realize," the master replied softly, "that you are standing before a man who can be run through without blinking an eye?"

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This is Sammy who looks after Fiona and Brian

Namasté

Next post Friday 4th May

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No.71

A Brown Squirrel

with thanks to 

Pexels.com

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Words of Wisdom?

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this;
One of you is lying.
- DOROTHY PARKER 1893-1967

The more I see of the moneyed classes,
The more I understand the guillotine. -
and
Beauty is all very well at first sight, but who ever
looks at it when it has been in the house three days. -
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW 1856-1950

An optimist is a person who sees 
a green light everywhere, while the
pessimist sees only the red stop-light. 
The truly wise person is colour-blind. -

ALBERT SCHWEITZER 1875-1965

There is, of course, no reason 

for the existence of the male sex

except that one sometimes needs

help with moving the piano. - 

DAME REBECCA WEST 1892-1983

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  The Revolution

painted 1896 by

Valentine Cameron Prinsep 1838-1904

Calcutta-born, British nationality

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My Fancy
A poem by Lewis Carroll
(Charles Lutwidge Dodgson 1832-98)

I painted her a gushing thing,
With years about a score;
I little thought to find they were
A least a dozen more;
My fancy gave her eyes of blue,
A curly auburn head:
I came to find the blue a green,
The auburn turned to red.

She boxed my ears this morning,
They tingled very much;
I own that I could wish her
A somewhat lighter touch;
And if you ask me how
Her charms might be improved,
I would not have them added to,
But just a few removed!

She has the bear's ethereal grace,
The bland hyaena's laugh,
The footstep of the elephant,
The neck of a giraffe;
I love her still, believe me,
Though my heart its passion hides;
She's all my fancy painted her,
But oh! how much besides!

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A quiet spot of the
River Teith at Callander

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The next post here will be on 
Friday 27th April

namasté

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