Blythe and The Water People

This week I mostly seem to be reading on a watery theme.  After Crozet Joe and his adventures on the Southern Ocean, I have read The Water People by Joe Simpson (thank you for that great goddess Scope) and now am reading a lot of canal boat literature.
So instead of making a picture about The Patience Kershaw Rapper Women, I am going to make a picture about The Idle Women, who during the War worked on the canal boats, carrying essential supplies like coal and aluminium and such.
I bought a book The Clothes of The Cut, about canalboat costume, and I thought I might make a steampunk costume based on it, after Miss Aimson's success with making steampunk costumes (see Barbers and Shearers post).  Apparently the canal boat women were particularly fond of crochet-work.  Here is a picture of some crochet-work from The Kate W. Aimson Collection:

Miss Aimon's first name is Blythe: Blythe is usually a surname, which comes from a place name, and the place names mostly come from a river name.  The nearest Blythe place name to us is Blythebridge.  This Blythe river name just means the same as blithe - happy - a happy river.  I have never found out anything more about what a happy river is; but Joe Simpson talks about it in his book The Water People, a race of beings who live in water.

from page 140 of my copy:
"The spirits had different characters according to their environment.  In rivers they were happiest.  Busy with their work.  In the deep seas it is said they slept in slow-moving currents to recover from their labours."

Well, that doesn't make things much clearer, but perhaps it's a clue.  Maybe all this water-pondering has been brought about by the rain we have been having.  The season is turning from the High Summer, which we have enjoyed for the first time in what seems like years.  Now the seasons roll on and tomorrow it is Lammas.

Crozet Joe Crosses the Line Cont.

As soon as they had resumed their places on the poop the wilder fun began,  One of the gentlemen passengers was an invalid, and he was let off with a fine, but the other two, who were young fellows going out to seek fortune in the Colonies, preferred to submit to the ordeal.  One of these, Jack Griffths, was led to the seat prepared for the victims  His only clothing was a shirt and a pair of trousers.  His conductors were the two policemen, acting in obedience to a solemn call by Neptune.  When Jack was seated the doctor examined him.  Having decided that the patient needed a draught, the doctor filled a tumbler with a mixture of various articles from his store, and ordered Jack to drink the compound.  He sipped the liquid, but immediately, with a wry face, spat it out again; whereupon Neptune and his consort indulged in a hearty guffaw, the other onlookers following the royal example.  The doctor turned his back to his victim.  When he faced about again his mouth was tightly closed and his cheeks distended.  He offered Jack something like a quarter of a pound of flour on a piece of paper, and by gestures bid him to swallow it.  Jack looked at the powder in dismay, evidently puzzled as to how he should dispose of it.  While he hesitated the doctor exploded, puffing the flour with which he had filled his own mouth over Jack's face and head, upon which loud peals of laughter resounded along the decks.
Then Joe was called for, and operations on him began.  The rough fun had rather frightened Elsie, but up to this point she had watched in silence.  She could not, however, bear to see Joe ill-used, although he submitted without resentment or complaint.  The barber was lathering the lad's face as if he were whitewashing a wall when everybody was startled by a cry from Elsie.
"Don't hurt him," she said, imploringly; "please don't hurt Joe."
How quiet the ship seemed when these revels were ended!  On deck, the intense tropical heat was tempered by the breeze which was speeding the Earwig towards her destination.

So we'll leave Crozet Joe and the Earwig now, speeding away on tropical breezes.  If you want to read more, please purchase your own copy of Crozet Joe, A Story of Adventure by J. Crowther Hirst.  I'm going out to sit in the garden at Aimo's House, to be alternately wafted by breezes, random thunder storms,  and warmed by the evening sun.

Crozet Joe Crosses the Line

When my dad was doing geological research, I know he went to the Marion and Prince Edward Islands, but I don't think he went to the Crozet Islands.  When I saw this book at the Treacle Market, I bought it to see what it had to say about the area.

It did start with a description of a Crossing the Line ceremony, which I thought you might to read, as I have shown you my Crossing the Equator (Line) certificates, in the post There and Back Again.

Crozet Joe, page 13
"And when we cross the Line there are great doings on board."
Any further explanation Joe might have given was cut short by the appearance on the main deck of a strange figure.
"What ship is this?" he inquired, addressing the captain, who stood on the poop.
"The Earwig."
"I am Neptune's postman, and his Majesty, who is monarch of all these seas, has sent me here with messages."
With great solemnity and an air of the utmost importance, the postman took a number of letters from his wallet, first giving one to the captain and then one each to the first and second mates, and to several passengers, not even omitting little Elsie.  The captain's was a large sheet which he read by the binnacle light.  As soon as he had perused the message, he announced that on the morrow, Neptune, in whose territory they now were, intended to visit the ship to hold a solemn court and to initiate all novices into the mysteries of his realm.
Crozet Joe, page 16
Shortly after lunch word was sent aft to the effect that Neptune had arrived on board, and, on the reception of this intimation, the captain, the two mates, and the passengers all repaired to the poop.
The ceremony began by one of the policemen handing a scroll to the captain, who read aloud the address it contained.  The address set forth in bombastic style Neptune's pleasure in coming aboard, and the purpose of his visit, which was to initiate as subjects of his kingdom those persons who had not before crossed the centre of his dominions.  All gentlemen, it was said, must submit to being shaved, or pay a fine; ladies must kiss his majesty or pay; while children need only be presented to Amphitrite.
Tomorrow I will read to you some of the "wilder fun", as viewed from the poop.

The Great Button Explosion of 1801

I have been reading Ann the Word, an interesting book lent to me by Martin (nearly finished, still looking at the picture book and Aimo hasn't even started the Neil Young book yet).  It makes mention of The Manchester Potato Riots of 1757 and the Nottingham Goose Fair Great Cheese Riot in 1762.
That put me in mind of the disastrous Treat Stampede of 1883 when 183 children died at Victoria Hall, Sunderland in a scramble for sweets and prizes.  The scramble took place at a variety show presented by "travelling entertainers Mr and Mrs Fay".  Sounds to me suspiciously like a dastardly fairy trick practised on mortal children, don't you think?
Fleams has not escaped its share of catastrophes.  The Great Button Explosion of 1801 was in many ways an accident waiting to happen.  Some Button Gypsies had made an "arrangement" to share transport costs with The Gunpowder Factory.  By night they added their cargo of button-cards to the packhorse caravans carrying loads of gunpowder.  The packhorses set off on the old button lanes, carrying their mixed load of buttons and gunpowder.  As the driver crossed the bridge out of Fleams too quickly the train swerved, hit the side of the bridge, and some packs collided.
The resulting Great Button Explosion took out the bridge, and peppered the surrounding trees with button shrapnel.
Even to this day, if you look closely enough, you could find a fragment of button from the 1801 disaster embedded in the bark of an ancient fir by the rebuilt packhorse bridge.

Barbers and Shearers

Haircut day today in the Aimson household.  I cut my hair, Aimo's hair and Miss Aimson's hair.  Young Master Aimson visits a barber in town (he was always a bit of a townie).
I cut Miss Aimson's undercut and had a look at Aimo's hair, which he had cut in the Falklands.  I don't wish to slander the barber on the Falklands, but she did train as a sheep-shearer.  All my cunning layering and styling of Aimo's hair had been replaced by an all-over No.3.  It will take many weeks to get it back to how I like it.
Here is the headline from my latest copy of Penguin News, and some key facts about shearing.  Missing from this image is another fact; Islander Evan Jones continues to hold the current records with 370 wethers and 461 ewes.  If you don't know what a wether is ask your local farmer.  To view the full article, please purchase your own copy of Penguin News.  Oh, I forgot, you don't visit the Falklands.  I think you can view Penguin News on tinternet if you are a landlubber.



I just got a copy of this week's Buxton Advertiser today because Miss Aimson features in a carnival photograph on the letters page.  Here she is with a young family friend, also accompanying the award-winning Time Machine, built by Andrea and Dave.  (To see the full picture, please purchase your own copy of the Advertiser.)

Off to The Green Man Gallery now, I'm taking in our nomination certificate for the Buxton Festival Fringe Visual Arts - Event award which arrived at my home address.  It's Not Easy Being Green.

Fly and Be Free

Talking of Africa, as I was a couple of posts ago, my son's girlfriend is on an adventure holiday in Malawi at the moment, and he has just heard she has an ear infection.  I took the opportunity to explain to him that abroad is even worse than outdoors, which he has never been keen on.  Outdoors is like Nature, which is mostly made up of hayfever, sunburn and biting insects.

I explained, abroad is like that, with added venomous things, parasites and infections.  I never miss a chance to frighten my children off the outside world.  They can stay safely in the nest with me.  Why fly and be free, when you could stay home and do the washing up?

Massive Sale of Useless Tat

I've just been past David Russell's (on the way to the DVD shop) and with the door closed, I could see that they are having A MASSIVE SALE OF USELESS TAT.  I'd better get down there tomorrow as I don't have enough useless tat in Fleams.