Blood cooling corner

[Gareth Hughes]

Inside yer average church though, I think bellows were more reliable. (Although I suspect many amongst the congegation thought possibly the vicar a reasonable source of wind, maybe it wasn't easy to harness it.)

On Sunday mornings I had the unpaid job of pumping the bellows for the Church Organ. I had to sit in a small room at the back of the Organ. Facing me was a wooden wall through which was a large wooden handle which could be pulled up and down, attached to the other end of the handle was the Bellows I suppose, because by pumping the handle up and down air was supplied to the Organ. To the one side of the handle was a small hole through which a piece of twine appeared. On the end of the twine was a small brass weight, and the weight went up and down according to how full the bellows were. There was two markers on the wall, and my job was to keep the weight somewhere between the top and bottom marker. I would have a rest as the weight gradually dropped lower and lower towards the bottom marker, and then pump like mad to get the weight up somewhere close to the top marker.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/98/a4888498.shtml

Some muzak:

http://www.crumhorn-labs.com/

When, a couple of years back, there were proposals to ban lead in all electronic equipment (summat like that anyway), electrically-blown organs were felt to be under threat and a return to manual organs was predicted.

I caught a magnificent comment on Radio 4 from a vicar (see how I’m linking to another current thread? Clever eh?) who remarked, apropos this revival of ancient methods, “that’s all very well, but it’s not going to be like the old days when you could get a lad in off the street to blow you for an hour for sixpence.”

Ah, it’s also not like the old days when you could innocently make a remark like that on national radio and not have me blowing most of breakfast out of my nose.

 

[Gareth Hughes]

He possibly had a point... Miss Fancy Day wasn't liable to spend a great deal of her time in the ale house, unlike some members of the Mellstock Quire. At least, not until after she was wed.

UNDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,

More muzak (not the same Mellstock Quire wot Hardy wrote about...):

http://www.forest-tracks.co.uk/folk_music_pages/folk_music_mellstocktracks.html

and some more: (an old mill-spotting mate of mine sings with this lot, hence the plug)
http://www.wgma.org.uk/Res/rsj.htm

 

[Nemesis]

And I'm not sure you can make those sort of remarks on PPUK these days, not knowingly...



[Open Image] [Hosted by PhotoGalaxy.com]

 

[wobs]

Talking of preaching to the choir (see what I did there? Me neither)..... BBC article on period properties:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7264419.stm

 

[Nemesis]

Thanks. Interesting. Although I have to say the VicSoc isn't always on the side of right, It thought demolition of Span Four at Paddington acceptable, and it came very late in the day to the Easington Colliery fight (see the pic gallery of the 'five still in danger'). It wasn't the VicSoc which launched the campaign to save Tyntesfield either, and the Nat Trust seems to have forgotten also who did, and the sole bit of support it has given the Smithfield campaign was a lone letter of objection to the local authority, months after the deadline (and I think even then pushed into it...).

Grump mode OFF

Span Four

Smithfield General Market - north entrance and Phoenix Columns (which are very interesting... and a forerunner of what is in the top pic... my idea of blood cooling stuff...)

 

[Penners]

Casa de Pilates

So that's where my wife goes every Monday morning, carrying a huge beach ball.

 

[Penners]

UNDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,

A Hardy novel, yes, but the poem is Shakespeare, isn't it?

 

[Nemesis]

Yes - the Hardy title is a quote from As You Like It.

Amiens:
UNDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Jaques replies: If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdamè, ducdamè:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.

 

[Nemesis]

From this:


[Open Image] [Hosted by PhotoGalaxy.com]



to this:


[Open Image] [Hosted by PhotoGalaxy.com]


http://www.bdonline.co.uk/story.asp?sectioncode=426&storycode=3107680&c=2&encCode=000000000146c23d

What was there originally was a pleasing building, we waged a long campaign and lost, but if you live long enough etc etc.

Norwich Union Insurance built it. Ouch.