Blessed is he who has the courage of his own conviction and who follows its accurate lead.

Blessed is he who knows exactly what he wants and who does not falter in going after it.

Blessed is he who sees the good in himself and so attracts all good to himself.

Blessed is he whose soul shine is the light of his own path to success.

The Essene Message, January 1917.  From MIQEL.com.  Original image here.

Almost square pub table (shown in picture above with one leave extended) with turned trestle legs. Four ladder back chairs with wavy patterned back slats and blue and pink striped cushions.

Detail of table & leaf join when table leaf extended.

Table measures 33 inches deep, 36 inches wide, and 30 inches high (with leaves closed). Leaves measure 12 inches wide.

You know how it goes. You meet someone. He or she seems like a two drawers over two cabinets kind of person: all there, well-made, useful. There’s beauty in the grain, a graceful turn of leg, a lovely accent—English?

Is this the one?

Buffet measures 48 inches wide, 20 inches deep, 42½ inches tall.

Having had a small taste of power beyond the commune, Angry Beaver moves into even more exalted spheres–in his dreams.

After all, all New York taught him were ever more arcane byways to move in gridlock. Keeping a nose ahead of the Reynard/Rat team has him up to speed in doing that kind of work. Today he actually had to convince the jello-kneed cow not to sell herself to a slaughterhouse for “research”–as Rat had convinced her to do, saying that he, Rat, the Great Rat, had figured out a way to move money into Heaven.

Now Angry Beaver has to figure out how to question Rat to see if Rat can electronically transfer funds across the life/death barrier. Except that Rat lies about everything. He’s hoping that working with elected officials who routinely ignore their electorate and still keep their office will teach him some new deception techniques.

We would have gotten this out earlier, except that one of Thor’s goats (Tanngrisnir? Tanngnjóstr?) bones got broken in a little pre-scuffle Black Friday sale–which put Thor behind schedule in dropping off his old household goods at the Community Warehouse. Thank the gods he had that back-up black Hummer.

We’re closed to drop-offs today, but we’ll be open at 10am at 3969 NE Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. on Saturday. Come on by and get rid of stuff rather than going out shopping to buy more stuff. Or do both. Capitalism is fun.

—

*Yes, that orange and yellow flower wreath is genuine plastic.

I’m not a huge fan of the sporting world, I have to say. It’s ironic – as a child I lived in Twickenham and I went to school in Wimbledon. But even though I couldn’t give a damn about most sports today, I am quite interested in the history of a lot of them. Weird.

The history of boxing is particularly interesting (to me, anyway). It was in 18th and 19th Century London that it really started to take shape in its modern form. Indeed, so far has the sport evolved that it’s impossible to name an all-time great. Witnesseth the picture to your left, an impression of a major fight which took place between the American ex-slave Tom Molineaux and the popular British champion Tom Cribb. The most obvious difference to our eyes is the lack of gloves, which at the time were strictly for amateurs and fighters in training. That ain’t the half of it, though.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Boxing started to become popular as a sport at the beginning of the eighteenth century, but in many ways it was closer to wrestling, or even brawling, than the sport we know. Pretty well anything went, and fatalities were not unknown. It was around 1741 that Jack Broughton did something about this with his Rules.

Broughton was, by the standards of his day, a giant of a man at an inch short of six feet, and massy with it. His day job was working in the Pool of London as a waterman. He was, until the 1850s, entirely undefeated (or so it is claimed). He came  up with his Rules after causing the death of George “The Coachman” Stevenson in an effort to prevent similar fatalities from occurring again. The rules were:

1. That a square of a yard be chalked in the middle of the stage, and on every fresh set-to after a fall, or being parted form the rails, each second is to bring his man to the side of the square, and place him opposite to the other, and till they are fairly set-to at the lines, it shall not be lawful for one to strike at the other.

2. That, in order to prevent any disputes, the time a man lies after a fall, if the second does not bring his man to the side of the square, within the space of half a minute, he shall be deemed a beaten man.

3. That in every main battle, no person whatever shall be upon the stage, except the principals and their seconds, the same rule to be observed in bye-battles, except that in the latter, Mr. Broughton is allowed to be upon the stage to keep decorum, and to assist gentlemen in getting to their places, provided always he does not interfere in the battle; and whoever pretends to infringe these rules to be turned immediately out of the house. Every body is to quit the stage as soon as the principals are stripped, before the set-to.

4. That no man be deemed beaten, unless he fails coming up to the line in the limited time, or that his own second declares him beaten. No second is to be allowed to ask his man’s adversary any questions, or advise him to give out.

5. That in bye-battles, the winning man to have two-thirds of the money given, which shall be publicly divided upon the stage, notwithstanding any private agreements to the contrary.
6. That to prevent disputes, in every main battle the principals shall, on coming on the stage, choose from among the gentlemen present two umpires, who shall absolutely decide all disputes that may arise about the battle; and if the two umpires cannot agree, the said umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it.

7. That no person is to hit his adversary when he is down, or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist: a man on his knees to be reckoned down.

He was also the first to really treat boxing as a science, giving as much to defence as attack, and was regarded by commentators of the day as being virtually untouchable. While doing so, he also invented a device known as the “muffler,” now better known as the ”boxing glove.”

Broughton’s work was built upon by Whitechapel boy Daniel Mendoza, who you may see on your right. Dan Mendoza again put much emphasis on the scientific side of things, believing that really it’s a good idea to avoid being hit where possible. To this end he advocated the use of fancy footwork, ducking and blocking as much as possible. In so doing he was able to become Heavyweight Champion, despite only being a middleweight himself. He published his advice in a 1789 book, The Art of Boxing, whose influence may be seen to this day.

Mendoza died in 1836, two years before the London Prize Ring Rules came in. These rules were, broadly, much the same as Broughton’s, but specifically declared headbutting, biting and hitting below the belt to be simply not on. Holds and throws were still part of the game, as – slightly worryingly – were spiked shoes.

The rules would be amended in 1853 and superseded in 1867 by the famous Marquess of Queensbury Rules. Contrary to popular belief, the Marquess of Queensbury, pictured left, did not actually invent these, merely endorsed them. Queensbury was an immensely unpopular man due to his outspoken atheism and, indeed, his support of the still-only-semi-respectable sport of boxing. Still, his detractors could take comfort in the fact that Oscar Wilde was shagging his son. ANYWAY.

The actual Rules were drafted by John Chambers at the Lillie Bridge Grounds in West London (now the site of a London Underground depot). They are:

1. To be a fair stand-up boxing match in a 24-foot (7.3 m) ring, or as near that size as practicable.
2. No wrestling or hugging allowed.
3. The rounds to be of three minutes duration, and one minute’s time between rounds.
4. If either man falls through weakness or otherwise, he must get up unassisted, 10 seconds to be allowed him to do so, the other man meanwhile to return to his corner, and when the fallen man is on his legs the round is to be resumed and continued until the three minutes have expired. If one man fails to come to the scratch in the 10 seconds allowed, it shall be in the power of the referee to give his award in favour of the other man.
5. A man hanging on the ropes in a helpless state, with his toes off the ground, shall be considered down.
6. No seconds or any other person to be allowed in the ring during the rounds.
7. Should the contest be stopped by any unavoidable interference, the referee to name the time and place as soon as possible for finishing the contest; so that the match must be won and lost, unless the backers of both men agree to draw the stakes.
8. The gloves to be fair-sized boxing gloves of the best quality and new.
9. Should a glove burst, or come off, it must be replaced to the referee’s satisfaction.
10. A man on one knee is considered down and if struck is entitled to the stakes.
11. No shoes or boots with springs allowed.
12. The contest in all other respects to be governed by revised London Prize Ring Rules.

As you can see, we’re really getting the modern sport now. I’m intrigued by the mention of “shoes or boots with springs,” and wondering if maybe they were too hasty in eliminating them. I just think a couple of dudes bouncing around on springs would be an excellent addition to the Art. ANYWAY. These rules, in particular the mandatory use of boxing gloves, changed the way the sport was fought. Note Cribb and Molineaux’ defensive stances above. Now look at a modern boxer, Mr Muhammad Ali.

You’ll notice that he’s now leaning forward. The emphasis is on the fists rather than the forearms for defence.

Bare-knuckle fighting continued until 1882 (officially at least) when it was declared to be “assault occasioning actual bodily harm” in the case of Regina v Coney.

I can't work out whether this man is wearing tights or he has nothing to fear from blows below the belt.

Since then, the sport of boxing is as respectable as any other. This can largely be seen as a result of the old Marquess of Queensbury Rules, which completed the transition from something little better than a pub fight into a sport that was as much about strategy as brute force. The twentieth century saw the emergence of professional boxing. As the sport became more acceptable, so it became less concentrated in the fair city of London. And here endeth the lesson.

The local station that plays semi-oldies (mostly 70’s stuff but not the heavies; a lot of one-hit wonders like Sniff n’ the Tears) also plays the old broadcasts of American Top 40 with Casey Kasem each Sunday.   Tuning in, I caught this tune entering the countdown at number 40.  Instant diggage.  Also, I love the name of their band.  I can just see them sitting around a campfire trying to come up with a name, and one of the dying embers flares up.  The bassist says, “Flaming Ember!  That’s us, guys.  That’s us.”

YouTube Link

In dark bars, basements and pool halls we’d gather. I learned that the game was not just the game, it was the manifestation of the events outside the game. We’d watch each other, duly note each others weaknesses (and beverages), create ersatz alliances, and circle about the table like hammerheads around a tuna school.

The ‘killer-instinct’ and the desire to use the game as a proxy for real conflict was a strong motivator. Then the day came when my mentor and I discussed the psychology of batting objects around in plane geometry. He said “I stopped playing the day I realized I’d be nothing more than the biggest fish in a very, very small pond.”  He was right. I was good, but the competition was limited. I hung up my cue.

Once upon  a time I was a pool shark (but the water was very shallow).

The billiards sign measures (along the bottom edge) 29 inches long and 11.5 inches wide.

In 1944, I. M. Pei returned to Boston from New Jersey. He had a nice third floor walk-up flat in Cambridge. Fortunately for him he had moved in just in time to outfit his place at low cost (befitting a master’s candidate) with cast off furniture from the recent renovation of the Gropius’s living room. Walter and Ilse Gropius felt that their living room set was rather pre-fascist and needed to be upgraded to reflect the impending new world order (now that the end was within sight). Pei was too broke to care.

We offer a similar 1930’s Art Deco inspired sofa and chair set. The chair is 41 inches wide, 32 deep and 36 1/2 tall. Couch is same depth and height but it is 7 ft (72 inches) long. Both have carved arm faces and are in very good condition,  $450 for the set.

All admit that our obligation to benefactors is in proportion to their intention to benefit us, and that even if, through some accident or hindrance, their deeds fall short of their goodwill, and they fail to do us good; . . . while, on the other hand, we owe no debt of gratitude to those by whose acts we are benefited without their intending to do us good.  It will now be shown that while in almost all the motives to human benevolence self-interest plays a part, the benevolence of God is entirely disinterested.

The Duties of the Heart By Rabbi Bachye, tr. Edwin Collins, 1909.  From the Hathi Trust Digital Library.  Original image here.

I’ll sit and listen to them–and think that if I ran the zoo, I’d make it possible to go without sleep.

Who needs sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, sleep as a flock of sheep, the sound of rain, bees murmuring, the fall of rivers, winds, seas, smooth fields, white sheets of water, sleep that covers a man all over like a cloak? Well, except the parents of young children. For you we have two “Dr. Seuss presents . . . ” records, one of which has Dr. Seuss’ Sleep Book, and a record player. We exist to serve.

I CAN’T WAIT!!!!

For those of you more interested in Cultural history, here’s an interesting one for you. Today, November 23rd, 1936, is the day that the first issue of Life Magazine (as we know it today) was published.

Life had been around for a while before this, but it was a humor magazine, similiar to today’s The New Yorker. But, it folded like many other businesses during the Depression. The name was bought by then Time publisher Henry Luce. It was his intention for Time to allow Americans to “see” life.

The cover picture was an image of the Fort Peck Damn, taken by Margaret Burke-White.

Pink elephant print by Felber, Inc called Mandalay, © 1977

Selvage reads: A Jay Yang Design Vat Colors Screen Print Preshrunk Scotchgard ® Copyright © “Woodco.”

Usually when I see these fabric panels, I think “Could I make anything from that which would actually look good?” In this case, I think you could. If you wanted to pass for someone from the 1970s. The pink elephants could make a flower-child tank and flowing skirt. The Asian influenced design–mumu? Giant floor pillow? Help me out here.

But I’m supposed to be selling these as art. Walmart is selling fabric panels as art again. Anything Walmart can do the Estate Store can do better.

The textiles are in excellent condition with no fading. They’re 100% cotton. The screen print pink elephants, meant perhaps to invoke the exoticism of India, shows a soothing and naive repetition that invokes hand drawn design. The bold colors and geometric motifs of the second piece . . . dog bed? 8-10 laptop bags?

Each of the above two panels measures four feet by four feet, not including the wrap around fabric and selvage.

I am currently reading a book which has allegedly sold more than twice as many copies around the world than there are people living in Britain. JRR Tolkien’s ‘The Lord of the Rings‘, according to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, er, I mean according to Wikipedia, has been purchased 150 million times since it was first published in 1954. By Wiki-reckoning it is the second most popular fictional work of all time, coming in 50 million copies shy of ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ by Charles Dickens. Pretty impressive, until you read that the Bible is estimated to have sold somewhere between 2.5 and 6 billion and Chairman Mao’s ‘Little Red Book’ has been snapped up by at least 800 million and perhaps as many as 6.5 billion paying customers. The Koran is high up the list too, lest Islam should feel aggrieved that Christians and Communists are hogging the limelight, as they did for much of the 20th century.

Of course such figures are bunk, really. Barcodes and digital tracking have only been in existence for a relatively short time compared to the lifespan of the religious tomes included in the list. How exactly can anyone know how many copies of a book like The Bible have been sold over a span of some two thousand years? ‘Ring Ring!’ “Hello?” “Oh hello, is that the Pope?” “Yes it is, who is calling?” “Hello, my name is Bernard, I am calling from Wikipedia. Could you spare a few moments of your time to talk to us about sales of your book?” “My book?” “You know, the one you had ghost-written. What’s it called? Let me look at my list again. Oh yes, The Bibble.” “You mean The Bible?” “That’s the one. How many units have you shifted this past two millennia?” “Perhaps I should get my office to call you back.” “Sure thing.” “Anything else I can do for you? A signed Book of Psalms, perhaps?” “No, you’re alright.”

Anyway, I’m reading Tolkien again for a couple of reasons. One is because I’ve been under the weather and there is nothing like a huge book to plough through when illness makes concentrating on other things difficult. And the beauty of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is that one can drop off in the middle of some of the interminably long songs and poems by the elves or the dwarves, and wake up several pages later when the ditty has finally ended. But the other reason I’ve returned to a book I first read when I was about sixteen and have reread on quite a few occasions since, is because I have recently read the ‘Inkheart‘ triilogy by Cornelia Funke. I am new to her work (as happens so often these days, the film drew me to the novels) and became so immersed in the Inkworld that I could not help but compare the reading experience with that first time I read Tolkein. They are miles apart in style and divergent in tone but Funke has achieved what few beyond Tolkien have achieved – she has conjured up an entire world from her own imagination which, despite its dangers and tragedies, almost seems preferable to the real world. Why? For the same reason many of us wish we could slip inside Tolkien’s pages and spend time in Middle Earth: the Inkworld and the world of the Hobbits are worlds of honour, of valour and of the kind of romantic heroism which seems sadly lacking in our own times. Our heroes, according to the gutter press and commercial television, are self-obsessed wannabe celebrities and people who appear in soap-operas on TV. Call me strange and bookish if you must but who would you rather have at your side in a crisis, Leona Lewis and Katie Price or a couple of doughty hobbits and an axe-wielding dwarf?

A nice old Arts and Crafts influenced wardrobe / armoire. Two full shelves have been added to the interior for spacious storage, leaving space along the bottom half open for hanging items. It is in very good condition and disassembles easily for transport. Measures 48 inches wide, 72 tall and 22 inches deep. $285

Want to extravagantly demonstrate that you are a connoisseur of a particular style? Need a gift for your partner’s partner in your open relationship? (You love her, but she’s got no taste.) Or perhaps you need something for the company holiday gift exchange?

Thank all the small gods for Ed’s “House of Ugly!”

Ed’s “House of Ugly” exists to provide for all your ugly needs! Oxidized avocado green soup tureen decorated with pineapples, pears, and grapes with a half-onion dipper? We’ve got it! Vintage green and purple paisley upholstery? We’ve got it! Faux gilt? Plastic jewels? Patchwork dragons? We’ve got it all!

Ed’s “House of Ugly!” can meet all your ugly needs! And we take requests!***

Act now and all proceeds from Ed’s “House of Ugly!” will go to support the continued operations of the Community Warehouse, Portland’s only full-service furniture bank.

Community Warehouse is proud to be a corporate partner with Ed’s “House of Ugly!”

***Certain fees and restrictions apply.

So I hear there’s a Monopoly movie in the works. The fact that I heard it from Cracked.com does not make the idea any less problematic.

Now, I enjoy Monopoly a lot. It’s probably my favourite board game (Cluedo can fuck right off). I know the secret little strategies, I know which squares you shouldn’t buy, I’ve even got out of jail free (with thanks to my lawyer, Quincy Rafter).

These days, there are so many versions of Monopoly that it’s getting ridiculous (some I’ve come across are King’s College and a knock-off set in Dartmouth). There’s even one based on post-war toy trains made by the Lionel company, which even I, a notorious train nut, think is a bit much. There’s a Belfast version, which primarily differs from the other versions in that the car is upside down and someone has shot the dog.

 But for me, Monopoly is the classic London version. You know, the one that features loads of places that you’ve only heard of because they’re on the Monopoly board. Old Kent Road is brown, Mayfair is purple. This version was for a long time also the one used in Europe and much of the Commonwealth. So well-known is this version that it’s often erroneously assumed to be the first one – that’s actually Atlantic City. Me, I don’t like the updated versions. I like my Monopoly to be a little bit retro, with steam trains in the station and some ugly old lag in the jail (I call him Cyril).

Anyway, that’s my credentials as a Monopoly-enjoyer established. And I think the idea of a movie is just awful. The scenario is this. Our main character is a lovable loser who works as an estate agent (because everyone loves estate agents, amirite?) and is an enthusiastic Monopoly player who one day…

[PAUSE INSERTED HERE. SEE IF YOU CAN GUESS THE NEXT PLOT POINT]

… finds himself inside the Monopoly game! It’s krazy!

Kirk Douglas in the unsuccessful Pictionary movie.

Here’s the thing. Board games don’t make for great movies. This is because they are board games. They are designed to work as board games. They are not designed to be watched. Frustration is a good board game, a two-hour film about frustrated people would not be a good movie. Snakes and Ladders – actually, that would be a pretty awesome movie. But in general, my point stands. The only board game movie that really worked was Cluedo (or Clue, if you’re one of those Yankee types), and that’s because the basic plot of the game is a standard Agatha Christie-style detective story, complete with country vicar and retired colonel.

Monopoly’s premise, on the other hand, is that it’s about buying and selling property. If you’ve ever dealt with estate agents, you’ll know what incredible fun that is. Now, the director is Ridley Scott, so maybe he’ll pull something out of the hat and produce a completely amazing film and I’ll wind up looking stupid. But I maintain that it’s almost impossible to make an interesting film about land sales. Unless…

Success!

Further reading

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/herocomplex/2009/11/a-monopoly-movie-the-story-behind-the-roll-of-the-dice-.html - For a fuller account of this mooncalf of a movie.

Made in Rockford Illinois by the Rockford EAGLE Furniture Company. Measures 44 inches wide, 20 inches deep and 17 inches tall. Very good condition. $GONE

A very nice vintage Empire (?) Revival gate leg, drop-leaf table. Solid Mahogany. Although there is faint ghosting and finish damage from plant pots the table is in very good condition overall. Measures 30 inches tall and 36 inches in diameter. With both leaves down the center board is 11 1/4 inches across.  $170

Mission style coffee table measures 50 inches wide, 30 inches deep, and 16 inches deep. Excellent condition! GONE!!

Vintage Oak pedestal base dining table. Measures 45 inches in diameter. It has three 10 1/2 inch leaves allowing expansion to a 76 1/2 inch long oval.  In very good condition! $225

Antique bow front chiffonier dressing chest with hour-glass beveled mirror. Consists of two drawers over one large storage drawer. This piece is 30 inches wide, 20 1/4 inches deep and 27 inches tall (to the top of the case-work). The top of the mirror is 67 1/2 inches high. This grand old piece is in very good condition. $225

Since our friends at Anglotopia are traveling — in England, of course (!) — the next TGIF installment will run in early December. To insure maximum wit and intrigue, it will cover some of the mad, marvelous and maddening Mitford sisters. The six of them and their lone brother, children of Lord and Lady Redesdale, included among their number Communists, fascists, wits, authors, a muckraker, a farmer and a duchess. Let me introduce here some of their knowing insights  on class.

I could no more introduce the Mitfords in a paragraph than give you Winston Churchill in two sentences. But here’s a start, anyway: The angular Lord and Lady Redesdale (or David Freeman-Mitfords), married in 1904, were impecunious landed gentry who knew how to squeeze their pennies. Somewhat more unusually, they also knew how to dig for them; “Muv” and “Farve,” as their children called them, periodically took off for the Canadian wilderness to prospect for gold as a way to revive the family fortunes. Most of their time was spent on their austere Cotswolds estate, however, riding, shooting pheasant, bellowing at the children (Farve), baking whole-grain bread and raising hens (Muv), and overseeing their rambunctious daughters’  indifferent home-based educations. Strict but loving, they sent their son to Eton and raised their daughters for cloistered, demure womanhood, only to see them branch out toward every extreme of 20th-century culture. “Whenever I see a headline beginning with ‘Peer’s Daughter,’ ” Sydney Redesdale lamented, “I know one of you children has been in trouble.”

Sharp-tongued Nancy, the eldest, made her career as a writer of essays, biographies and humor. One of her greatest contributions to modern culture was the popularization of the English terms “U” and “Non-U.”

Have you ever heard them? “Non-U’ means ‘not done, dear,’ gauche. It comes from “Upper Crust” and may sound like a slang term, but actually emerged from a serious — in fact, rather dull — essay on “sociological linguistics” by a Professor Alan C. Ross of Birmingham University. It gets drearier: Ross’s article for Encounter magazine was distilled from a longer treatise in (I’m not making this up) “the Finnish philological periodical Neuphilologische mitteilungen.” Ross, like the fictional Henry Higgins after him, was obsessed with what differences in usage and pronunciation revealed about class. (For instance, the Uppers said “wireless,” while the non-U said “radio.” “Toilet-paper” wiped the non-U and “lavatory paper” was for the higher-born. And so on.)

What Nancy and some writer friends (including novelist Evelyn Waugh) did for U and non-Uwas to broadcast and amplify on Ross’s ideas in Noblesse Oblige: An Enquiry into the Identifiable Characteristics of the English Aristocrat, an only partially flippant anthology, amusingly illustrated. Some of Nancy’s contributions included:

• An aristocracy in a republic is like a chicken whose head has been cut off: it may run about in a lively way, but in fact it is dead.
• The younger sons and daughters of the very richest lords receive, by English custom, barely enough to live on. The sons are given the same education as their eldest brother and then turned out, as soon as they are grown up, to fend for themselves; the daughters are given no education at all, the general idea being that htey must find some man to keep them.
  
• All English noblemen, according to themselves, are ruined.
• Ancestry has never counted much in England. [Mitford is drawing a comparison here to Europe.] The English lord knows himself to be such a very genuine article that, when looking for a wife … he marries for love, and is rather inclined to love where money is.
• Silence is the only possible U-response to many embarrassing modern situations: the ejaculation of ‘cheers’ before drinking, for example, or ‘it was so nice seeing you’, after saying goodbye. In silence, too, one must endure the use of hte Christian name by comparative strangers and the horror of being introduced by Christian and surname without any prefix.
  
• The purpose of an aristocrat is most emphatically not to work for money. his ancestors may have worked in order to amass the fortune which he enjoys, though on the whole the vast riches of he English lords come from sources unconnected with honest toil; but he will seldom do the same.

Jessica Mitford, 13 years younger than Nancy, also observed adult mores closely. Having settled in the United States and devoted her career to leftist causes, in 1960, she cast a gimlet eye backward on her early years in Hons and Rebels, a memoir. Her class-consciousness expressed itself differently, but no less sharply, than Nancy’s:

• Participation in public life at Swinbrook [the Mitfords' estate and nearby small town] revolved around the church, the Conservative Party and the House of Lords. My parents took a benevolentif erratic interest in all three
• According to my father, outsiders included not only Huns, Frogs, Americans, blacks and all other foreigners, but also other people’s children, the majority of my older sisters’ acquaintainces, almost all young men — in fact, the whole teeming population of the earth’s surface, except for some, though not all, of our relations and a very few tweeded, red-faced country neighbors to whom my father had for some reason taken a liking. In a way, he was not ‘prejudiced’ in the modern sense… My father did not ‘discriminate’; in fact, he ws in general unaware of distinctions between different kinds of foreigners.”
• Muv was forever fending off a slightly mythical wolf from our door by the practice of various rather oddly chosen economies. She worked out the cost of washing and ironing an average of nine napkins, three meals a day, 365 days a year,  found it staggering, and eliminated napkins from the dining-room table forever. Paper ones would, of course, have been unthinkable, and individual napkin rings too disgusting for words. To her annoyance, the Daily Express ran the story of our napkinless meals uner the headline, “Penny-Pinching Peeress.”
• Muv made sporadic efforts to interest us in the subject of household economy, and once offered a prize of half a crown to the child who could produce the best budget for a young couple living on £500 a year; but Nancy ruined the contest by starting her list of expenditures with “Flowers … £490.”

If there’s one thing the Internet has revolutionised, it’s the urban legend. Time was when you’d have to work for your insane rumours. These days a good story can be invented, spread round the world and debunked by Snopes by lunchtime. How did we ever manage without it?

I was recently reminded of a London urban legend that predates the Internet – or at least, widespread use of it. It seems to have originated in the 1980s. I heard it as a schoolchild in the mid-’90s. I am speaking of the Chelsea Smilers.

The Smilers, so the story goes, were a gang of football hooligans. Depending which version of the story you hear, they would either roam the streets of South London, travel around in a blue Transit Van or – if you looked particularly easy to scare – would go door-to-door.

Details varied, but the basic essence of the story was this. The Smilers would confront you and ask you if you supported Chelsea Football Club (soccer team, for the benefit of any United Stateseans who may be reading). Possibly they would ask you a series of trivia questions to prove it. In the version I was told, they would then slice the corners of your mouth – upwards if you said yes, downwards if you said no. Then they would punch you hard, so you’d scream, thus ripping your mouth into a permanent smile or frown. Some versions would add that they would then pour something on the wound, usually vinegar, so the scars wouldn’t heal properly. I’m surprised no one suggested ink.

The Joker supports Chelsea.

There are a million variants on the story. Some say that they only cut you if you don’t support Chelsea, and then only in the form of the smile. Some say this was only practised by criminal gangs in Chelsea (presumably they march around in tailored suits, terrifying onlookers with their white-collar fraud and cold-blooded acts of insider trading). To be honest, while I don’t deny that such crimes may have happened – such scarring is known as the “Glasgow smile” and, so says the Daily Express, a case is treated every day by Scotland’s hospitals. But I’ve yet to see any real evidence that the Chelsea Smilers exist.

Still, I went to school in South-West London and it was a damn fine scary story. And that’s what’s important.

Some things you just can’t make up.

Offered for your perusal is the forty-sixth edition (March 1955) of the Radiation Cookery Book (For use with the Regulo New World Gas Cookers). Inscribed on the front free end paper it reads “To Ms. America on the occasion of her visit to London” and it is signed below C. E. Evershed.

It can’t be inscribed to Ms. America since that contest started in 1997. It also can’t be inscribed to “Mrs. America” since that contest only dates to the 1970’s. So then it must be Miss America.  You’ll note that the inscription doesn’t say: “to Miss America 19__”, or “Miss America, Miss Ann Thrope.” Is the lack of personalized inscription a subtle snub on the interchangeability of the various winners?

Moving along. The problem of which Miss America remains regardless of the cultural constructs and perceptions surrounding the beauty pageant industry. The publication date of 1955 allows us to use that as a beginning date at which to start. Miss America 1955 was Lee Meriwether who, like her successor, went on to have a distinguished career as an actress.  Although she’s a potential candidate as the recipient of the book we have a much stronger contender, Miss America 1956,  Sharon Ritchie, of Denver Colorado.

As noted in her bio on the pageant website (with our own emphasis):

“During her year as Miss America Sharon was invited to tour Europe on an official visit sponsored by Philco International. She was the first Miss America to be invited on such a tour. Several grand balls were given in her honor and she made many personal appearances before curious and cheering crowds.”

As the first Miss America invited to tour Europe it seems likely* that Sharon Ritchie was the recipient of this book.

C. E. Evershed? This appears to be Cecily Elizabeth Evershed (nee Bennett).  She married to Raymond Evershed who was made a baron in 1956, resulting in her becoming  Baroness Evershed.   Since he was not only a Privy Counsellor but the third most senior judge in Britain (Master of the Rolls), Miss America met some pretty exclusive bits of the lower end of the peerage hierarchy, or at least their exclusive wives.

Seriously though..why would a baroness give a cookbook that accompanied the new gas cook-stove (which was probably staffed by servants) to Miss America? Really?

Was this one of those ‘on the way out of the house to attend to the party and forgot to get a gift‘ last-minute decisions?

Did she own stock in the Radiation Group Sales Ltd. Company? Perhaps she and the Right Honorable Barron had vested interest in the success of the New World gas cooker? Instead of one of the other company products like the Rhythm gas iron(!), the Siesta home heating system, the Lexos colored bath, the Belplex conversion fire for combination ranges, or the Yorkdale No. 4 back to back range, (and others).

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This volume is approximately an Octavo size and is in very good (seemingly unused) condition. It features a variety of recipes including “A most useful section, giving many proved Vegetable recipes and salads,” whole dinner menus, and ten pages  dedicated to “Invalid Cookery.” Unfortunately directions for their preparation are not included.

On Ebay now!

*using the  possible – probable – likely scale of decreasing equivocation.

Sometimes, Reynard thinks, it would be easier to presume they were joking. Ed running about yapping. Sometimes ugly really sublime. Pink pigeons. Smile!

Reynard thinks of pigeons served raw. His face cracks open and his tongue lolls out. Cut! Cut! the director shouts. Reynard obligingly imagines a sharp knife cutting the pigeons up. He does agree that looking sweet isn’t going to move these pieces.

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Two small flower encrusted pitchers made in Taiwan. Deliciously pink. And look at that vessel form!

So, I hope you guys have been following this new mini-series on History Channel this week. Every night this week at 9pm is a new episode, but they have been playing the old reruns every night starting at around 7, so it’s easy to catch up if you need. So, HC is showing some recently recovered footage from WW2, and showing this footage through the eyes of 12 different Americans who experienced different aspects of the War. Pacific theater, Africa, Europe, Army Nurse, etc. It’s a phenomenal series, easily on par with the PBS series from a few months ago called “The War”. Check em both out if you are as much of a WW2 nerd as I am.