December Lecture - Monday 6 December 2021
All Human Life, Tears of Sorrow and Joy - Jim Holmes
There will be no misery, we were told by Middlesbrough-born Jim Holmes, 30 years a photographer with international aid organisations. Mainly, there was not - after he showed scene-setting, upsetting panoramas of Aceh, Indonesia, devastated by the tsunami which struck south-east Asia in 2004 causing damage as far away as the Horn of Africa. It was a story of hope, the resilience of the people who refuse to despair, and of the "humanitarian vision" behind the West's billions of pounds of aid plus individual generosity: from direct debits and Christmas-card buying to TV extravaganzas like Comic and Live Aid. There were encouraging photos of Aceh's remarkable recovery. And often moving pictures of cheerful bit-players in a story of struggles against adversity. One apparently off-the-cuff shot of two naked small boys splashing happily, courtesy of Water Aid, included a carefully placed red bucket; child nudity is now an ultra no-no for Oxfam et al. His most personally rewarding assignment? Coverage in Laos of a peasant woman's first five years of motherhood. When the birth was imminent she called on a mobile he had lent her and managed "baby!" She named her little girl Lang, the local diminutive of "foreigner", in his honour.
All Human Life, Tears of Sorrow and Joy - Jim Holmes
There will be no misery, we were told by Middlesbrough-born Jim Holmes, 30 years a photographer with international aid organisations. Mainly, there was not - after he showed scene-setting, upsetting panoramas of Aceh, Indonesia, devastated by the tsunami which struck south-east Asia in 2004 causing damage as far away as the Horn of Africa. It was a story of hope, the resilience of the people who refuse to despair, and of the "humanitarian vision" behind the West's billions of pounds of aid plus individual generosity: from direct debits and Christmas-card buying to TV extravaganzas like Comic and Live Aid. There were encouraging photos of Aceh's remarkable recovery. And often moving pictures of cheerful bit-players in a story of struggles against adversity. One apparently off-the-cuff shot of two naked small boys splashing happily, courtesy of Water Aid, included a carefully placed red bucket; child nudity is now an ultra no-no for Oxfam et al. His most personally rewarding assignment? Coverage in Laos of a peasant woman's first five years of motherhood. When the birth was imminent she called on a mobile he had lent her and managed "baby!" She named her little girl Lang, the local diminutive of "foreigner", in his honour.
October Lecture - Monday 11 October 2021
Antiques at Auction plus TV Tales - Caroline Hawley
Caroline Hawley, a favourite on daytime TV who started in antiques as a teenager and now with her husband runs a international auction house from East Yorkshire, told of a "there but for grace of God go I" moment on the Flog It! show. At Normanby Hall, Leicestershire, in 2013 she was confronted by an impressive but anonymous warrior's shield well outside her (considerable) field of expertise. The valuation task went to a co-star, Michael Baggott, who ventured "around £500". The shield fetched £30,000 at auction, bought online by Sydney Museum, delighted to have happened upon a fine example of Aboriginal craftsmanship. In an informative and entertaining talk, nuggets included the sharp fall in prices for elegant chaises-longes of yester-century, alongside a boom for Ercol furniture (e.g. a1970s light-wood sofa bed fetched £500); poor prices for "brown furniture" including grandfather clocks; mid-20th century Danish furniture is doing well, as is galvanised ware such as planters. There are always surprises though, as Mrs Hawley explained: "It only takes two determined bidders to make a successful auction".
Antiques at Auction plus TV Tales - Caroline Hawley
Caroline Hawley, a favourite on daytime TV who started in antiques as a teenager and now with her husband runs a international auction house from East Yorkshire, told of a "there but for grace of God go I" moment on the Flog It! show. At Normanby Hall, Leicestershire, in 2013 she was confronted by an impressive but anonymous warrior's shield well outside her (considerable) field of expertise. The valuation task went to a co-star, Michael Baggott, who ventured "around £500". The shield fetched £30,000 at auction, bought online by Sydney Museum, delighted to have happened upon a fine example of Aboriginal craftsmanship. In an informative and entertaining talk, nuggets included the sharp fall in prices for elegant chaises-longes of yester-century, alongside a boom for Ercol furniture (e.g. a1970s light-wood sofa bed fetched £500); poor prices for "brown furniture" including grandfather clocks; mid-20th century Danish furniture is doing well, as is galvanised ware such as planters. There are always surprises though, as Mrs Hawley explained: "It only takes two determined bidders to make a successful auction".
March Lecture - 9 March 2020
Pharaohs, Potions and Pills - Jacqueline Campbell
You can understand Middle East ire at the West's oft patronising stance towards apparent inability to run a half-decent civilisation and to stop killing each other. Mainly it's because their plight, and the reasons for it, are more complex than mere saloon-bar prejudice. But it is also because they know that thousands of years ago, when today's top dogs thought science was the finding of a new colour of woad and that counting to ten marked a genius, their own ancestors were practising insightful medicine and surgery. As well as setting the principles of physics and applied maths. The medical expertise of Ancient Egyptians, from times before the pyramids, was detailed for us by Dr Jacqueline Campbell. And they were building on impressive earlier work in Mesopotamia, scene of much 2020 misery. Greece, later of Hippocrates fame, took medical inspiration from pioneering in that fertile 500-by-five-miles just across the Med: Homer paid tribute to Nile-side medicine. Dr Campbell's research into plant-based cures found that many Egypt BC prescriptions survived into the West's 20th century and some are still used. Syrup of figs anyone? Papyrus dug up by Flinders Petrie in 1822 revealed, 80 years later when the Rosetta Stone enabled translation, 33 gynaecological remedies. As yet, though, the hieroglyphic for Covid 19 eludes us.
Pharaohs, Potions and Pills - Jacqueline Campbell
You can understand Middle East ire at the West's oft patronising stance towards apparent inability to run a half-decent civilisation and to stop killing each other. Mainly it's because their plight, and the reasons for it, are more complex than mere saloon-bar prejudice. But it is also because they know that thousands of years ago, when today's top dogs thought science was the finding of a new colour of woad and that counting to ten marked a genius, their own ancestors were practising insightful medicine and surgery. As well as setting the principles of physics and applied maths. The medical expertise of Ancient Egyptians, from times before the pyramids, was detailed for us by Dr Jacqueline Campbell. And they were building on impressive earlier work in Mesopotamia, scene of much 2020 misery. Greece, later of Hippocrates fame, took medical inspiration from pioneering in that fertile 500-by-five-miles just across the Med: Homer paid tribute to Nile-side medicine. Dr Campbell's research into plant-based cures found that many Egypt BC prescriptions survived into the West's 20th century and some are still used. Syrup of figs anyone? Papyrus dug up by Flinders Petrie in 1822 revealed, 80 years later when the Rosetta Stone enabled translation, 33 gynaecological remedies. As yet, though, the hieroglyphic for Covid 19 eludes us.
February Lecture - 10 February 2020
The Chelsea Flower Show - Doug Stewart
Oscar Wilde, complimented that he must have spent hours to get his cravat so, so perfect, tore it off angrily: "Disaster - that's just the look I didn't want." Stiffer upper lips, perhaps, at the Chelsea Flower Show but garden designers seeking a gold medal for their creation would be at least dismayed if discerning visitors to this most English of national affectations judged that it lacked spontaneity, that casual joie de vivre which enables the best gardens to be carelessly enjoyed rather than ruthlessly demanding. So it seemed from Doug Stewart's bias towards the informal in his delightful round-up of this hardy annual of a jamboree adored equally by royalty, the bourgeoisie and, perhaps as represented by the old soldiers living year-round at the Royal Hospital, the peasantry. Mr Stewart, broadcaster and chartered horticulturist (a paradox to rank with horny-handed accountant?), showed us tricks of the informality trade at Chelsea, from distressed timber to rusting buckets. Assemblers of Chelsea gardens get just 19 days to make their confection appear permanent, mature and, on judging day, freshly in full bloom. It's a miracle grow.
The Chelsea Flower Show - Doug Stewart
Oscar Wilde, complimented that he must have spent hours to get his cravat so, so perfect, tore it off angrily: "Disaster - that's just the look I didn't want." Stiffer upper lips, perhaps, at the Chelsea Flower Show but garden designers seeking a gold medal for their creation would be at least dismayed if discerning visitors to this most English of national affectations judged that it lacked spontaneity, that casual joie de vivre which enables the best gardens to be carelessly enjoyed rather than ruthlessly demanding. So it seemed from Doug Stewart's bias towards the informal in his delightful round-up of this hardy annual of a jamboree adored equally by royalty, the bourgeoisie and, perhaps as represented by the old soldiers living year-round at the Royal Hospital, the peasantry. Mr Stewart, broadcaster and chartered horticulturist (a paradox to rank with horny-handed accountant?), showed us tricks of the informality trade at Chelsea, from distressed timber to rusting buckets. Assemblers of Chelsea gardens get just 19 days to make their confection appear permanent, mature and, on judging day, freshly in full bloom. It's a miracle grow.
January Lecture - 13 January 2020
Picasso and Matisse - the Best of Friendly Rivals - Ray Warburton
Wikipedia can make pseuds of art novices at all cultural levels. Exploring the creative rivalry between Picasso and Matisse, as the Tate galleries' Ray Warburton did so unpseudly for us, a Wiki-check of "Ooh, you are awful - but I like you" enables a point to be made about the painters' almost love-hate relationship, Another mouse-click throws light on one Max Jacob invoked by Mr Warburton to illustrate the lifelong mutual fascination. Jacob, a French poet/artist (pseud alert: he's is not to be confused with the German puppeteer}, was boulevarding one day with Pablo who told him:"If I was not me, I would like to paint like Matisse." Max exclaimed: "Funny, Henri said exactly the same thing about you." And so, in many ways, the two often parodied each other's work, trading mock insults as they did so, Picasso even proclaiming "I am the greatest plagiarist I know." Mr Warburton brought the affectionate enmity to life with interpretation of dozens of breast-fixated paintings from early naturalism and startling colours to the later eccentric geometry.
Picasso and Matisse - the Best of Friendly Rivals - Ray Warburton
Wikipedia can make pseuds of art novices at all cultural levels. Exploring the creative rivalry between Picasso and Matisse, as the Tate galleries' Ray Warburton did so unpseudly for us, a Wiki-check of "Ooh, you are awful - but I like you" enables a point to be made about the painters' almost love-hate relationship, Another mouse-click throws light on one Max Jacob invoked by Mr Warburton to illustrate the lifelong mutual fascination. Jacob, a French poet/artist (pseud alert: he's is not to be confused with the German puppeteer}, was boulevarding one day with Pablo who told him:"If I was not me, I would like to paint like Matisse." Max exclaimed: "Funny, Henri said exactly the same thing about you." And so, in many ways, the two often parodied each other's work, trading mock insults as they did so, Picasso even proclaiming "I am the greatest plagiarist I know." Mr Warburton brought the affectionate enmity to life with interpretation of dozens of breast-fixated paintings from early naturalism and startling colours to the later eccentric geometry.
December Lecture - 2 December 2019
Nostalgic Views of the North - John Moreels
The stash of photos, engravings and glass slides found by printing boss John Moreels in 1997 in the attic of a Newcastle photographic firm he had taken over - only a third of the 150,000 has yet been examined - could be divided into many categories, from street life and markets to industry, especially shipbuilding and railways, art (one cache was of the Ashington school of miner-painters' work) and leisure/sport. It made fascinating viewing, with gentle commentary by Mr Moreels. One sub-category amounted to an appetiser for our March 30 presentation: evocative bridges, from the packhorse to the grandiose. We saw the 1796-1929 Sunderland Bridge, only the second in iron (locals were then spared the trek inland to Chester-le-Street to cross the Wear; and the magnificently elaborate 1260 one at Newcastle which with all Tyne and Wear bridges (except Corbridge) were lost or wrecked in stormy 1771. Air views showed how much industry has been lost in Darlington, not least mighty Whessoe. But most striking was the endemic poverty of a century ago, the worn faces. The nearest to a privileged child was a couple wearing shoes. A memorable image was of a gaggle of Gateshead youngsters, two naked, washing and cutting their own hair around a street tap.
Nostalgic Views of the North - John Moreels
The stash of photos, engravings and glass slides found by printing boss John Moreels in 1997 in the attic of a Newcastle photographic firm he had taken over - only a third of the 150,000 has yet been examined - could be divided into many categories, from street life and markets to industry, especially shipbuilding and railways, art (one cache was of the Ashington school of miner-painters' work) and leisure/sport. It made fascinating viewing, with gentle commentary by Mr Moreels. One sub-category amounted to an appetiser for our March 30 presentation: evocative bridges, from the packhorse to the grandiose. We saw the 1796-1929 Sunderland Bridge, only the second in iron (locals were then spared the trek inland to Chester-le-Street to cross the Wear; and the magnificently elaborate 1260 one at Newcastle which with all Tyne and Wear bridges (except Corbridge) were lost or wrecked in stormy 1771. Air views showed how much industry has been lost in Darlington, not least mighty Whessoe. But most striking was the endemic poverty of a century ago, the worn faces. The nearest to a privileged child was a couple wearing shoes. A memorable image was of a gaggle of Gateshead youngsters, two naked, washing and cutting their own hair around a street tap.
November Lecture - 11 November 2019
Downton to Gatsby, a Journey in Jewellery - Andrew Pince
Mrs Cornelia Bradley Martin was but one of dozens of dazzlingly adorned women, all indecently wealthy, pictured in Andrew Prince's entertaining survey of jewellery "from Downton Abbey to Gatsby". Many of these gilded gals are not "beautiful" to the 2019 eye. Indeed, to the speaker Cornelia resembled an over-stuffed Chesterfield - probably not the look she aimed for when, at a legendary costume ball her lawyer husband gave for New York's elite at the Waldorf in 1897, she was Mary Stuart to Mr Martin's Louis XIV. Mr Prince, whose prose style is suitably flamboyant, is the designer/artisan/artist who makes tiaras etc for Downton's finest (he let us handle choice items actually worn by Maggie Smith and Michelle Dockery). It was not costume gems that were worn at the Waldorf. Banker J.P. Morgan went as a bejewelled Moliere; 50 wore Marie Antoinette-style finery, so Cornelia won hands down by sporting a jewel once owned by the French queen. The ball, at a time of recession, cost £7.5m at today's prices and so much opprobrium that the couple self-exiled to the UK; shades of the negative reaction to Sir Phillip Green's reputed £15m spending, in austerity Britain, on birthday revels. The "recycling" of famed pieces in new settings was a theme for Mr Prince, another example was Consuelo Vanderbilt's re-vamp of pearls once owned by Napoleon III's empress; and some of Cornelia's adorned Jackie O's frontispiece in the 1960s. Pearls have long been trophy women's most favoured "running away money".
Downton to Gatsby, a Journey in Jewellery - Andrew Pince
Mrs Cornelia Bradley Martin was but one of dozens of dazzlingly adorned women, all indecently wealthy, pictured in Andrew Prince's entertaining survey of jewellery "from Downton Abbey to Gatsby". Many of these gilded gals are not "beautiful" to the 2019 eye. Indeed, to the speaker Cornelia resembled an over-stuffed Chesterfield - probably not the look she aimed for when, at a legendary costume ball her lawyer husband gave for New York's elite at the Waldorf in 1897, she was Mary Stuart to Mr Martin's Louis XIV. Mr Prince, whose prose style is suitably flamboyant, is the designer/artisan/artist who makes tiaras etc for Downton's finest (he let us handle choice items actually worn by Maggie Smith and Michelle Dockery). It was not costume gems that were worn at the Waldorf. Banker J.P. Morgan went as a bejewelled Moliere; 50 wore Marie Antoinette-style finery, so Cornelia won hands down by sporting a jewel once owned by the French queen. The ball, at a time of recession, cost £7.5m at today's prices and so much opprobrium that the couple self-exiled to the UK; shades of the negative reaction to Sir Phillip Green's reputed £15m spending, in austerity Britain, on birthday revels. The "recycling" of famed pieces in new settings was a theme for Mr Prince, another example was Consuelo Vanderbilt's re-vamp of pearls once owned by Napoleon III's empress; and some of Cornelia's adorned Jackie O's frontispiece in the 1960s. Pearls have long been trophy women's most favoured "running away money".
October Lecture - 14 October 2019
"Eritrea and Ethiopia: in the Steps of Victoria's Army" - John Pilkington
Being too snooty to reply to a perceived social inferior can land you in expensive inconvenience. Queen Victoria let the Abyssinian ruler's 1860s plea for military help lie unanswered in her inbox. Emperor Tewodros took umbrage and seven missionary hostages. To free them, as adventurer John Pilkington showed us in brilliant photos and exposition, Britain spent hugely in treasure, engineering and tactical ingenuity and crucially the heroic yomping of thousands of redcoats. A port and 10-mile railway were built to carry the army, 40 elephants, 20,000 native bearers and heavy guns 400 miles to Tewodros's mountain redoubt. Victory was immediate. The hostages, now 70, looked offensively well fed to the emaciated soldiers and, to boot, not very grateful. Pilkington, on foot, retraced the expedition's route in today's Eritrea ("an equatorial North Korea") and an improving Ethiopia. The tale gave insight into an exotic world.
"Eritrea and Ethiopia: in the Steps of Victoria's Army" - John Pilkington
Being too snooty to reply to a perceived social inferior can land you in expensive inconvenience. Queen Victoria let the Abyssinian ruler's 1860s plea for military help lie unanswered in her inbox. Emperor Tewodros took umbrage and seven missionary hostages. To free them, as adventurer John Pilkington showed us in brilliant photos and exposition, Britain spent hugely in treasure, engineering and tactical ingenuity and crucially the heroic yomping of thousands of redcoats. A port and 10-mile railway were built to carry the army, 40 elephants, 20,000 native bearers and heavy guns 400 miles to Tewodros's mountain redoubt. Victory was immediate. The hostages, now 70, looked offensively well fed to the emaciated soldiers and, to boot, not very grateful. Pilkington, on foot, retraced the expedition's route in today's Eritrea ("an equatorial North Korea") and an improving Ethiopia. The tale gave insight into an exotic world.
September Lecture - 2 September 2019
“Street Angels” - Paul Blakey MBE
Paul Blakey MBE, founder of the Street Angels to tackle unruly and shaming repugnant behaviour in late-night Halifax - a scheme that has spread to 130 UK towns and in 4am Magaluf - sent his audience home happy after his ebullience encouraged them to feel that this national disgrace was at last being tackled. His Christian initiative sends a small but hi-vis army of volunteers, benign gilets jaunes if you like, into club and pub-land as a calming and practical presence on boozy weekend streets. The Halifax launch 14 years ago, which included the first of the now familiar cafe/safe havens, cut town-centre violence by 42 per cent at a time when it increased elsewhere. The movement has helped at 14 music festivals this summer; Leeds, for instance, is delighted - and boosts by Angels' coffers by paying £3,000 for a lost property service tent. He told of dramatic successes, not least the young girl spared death by hypothermia in Redcar. Attacks on Angels? Very rare, but a vicar volunteer was punched at Royal Ascot.
“Street Angels” - Paul Blakey MBE
Paul Blakey MBE, founder of the Street Angels to tackle unruly and shaming repugnant behaviour in late-night Halifax - a scheme that has spread to 130 UK towns and in 4am Magaluf - sent his audience home happy after his ebullience encouraged them to feel that this national disgrace was at last being tackled. His Christian initiative sends a small but hi-vis army of volunteers, benign gilets jaunes if you like, into club and pub-land as a calming and practical presence on boozy weekend streets. The Halifax launch 14 years ago, which included the first of the now familiar cafe/safe havens, cut town-centre violence by 42 per cent at a time when it increased elsewhere. The movement has helped at 14 music festivals this summer; Leeds, for instance, is delighted - and boosts by Angels' coffers by paying £3,000 for a lost property service tent. He told of dramatic successes, not least the young girl spared death by hypothermia in Redcar. Attacks on Angels? Very rare, but a vicar volunteer was punched at Royal Ascot.
April Lecture - 8 April 2019
“The Wynyard Dynasty” - Ron Tempest
Our speaker billed his expose of The Wynyard Dynasty, owners from 1742 to 1987 of the Co Durham mansion and vast acreage, as the tale of the volatile Vanes, turbulent Tempests and stormy Stewarts. Hyphenated imperiously together, the trio might just as accurately be dubbed the opportunistic, feckless and undeserving. Ron Tempest, related and who farms a corner of the former estate, is proud of valour from Agincourt onwards, political power until 1930s humiliation and industrial might until the nationalisation of coal. But he sees the giant mote in the acquisitive dynastic eye. Glories abound since the Tempests arrived with the Normans, but scandal is omnipresent. Much of the latter is familiar and/or ongoing. But new to some might be the bedding of the 3rd marchioness by Tsar Alexander I and the propositioning of Billy Graham's wife at Wynyard. Good, though, to read that a current scion, Khan (nee Goldsmith), disclaims socialite status and has a proper job.
“The Wynyard Dynasty” - Ron Tempest
Our speaker billed his expose of The Wynyard Dynasty, owners from 1742 to 1987 of the Co Durham mansion and vast acreage, as the tale of the volatile Vanes, turbulent Tempests and stormy Stewarts. Hyphenated imperiously together, the trio might just as accurately be dubbed the opportunistic, feckless and undeserving. Ron Tempest, related and who farms a corner of the former estate, is proud of valour from Agincourt onwards, political power until 1930s humiliation and industrial might until the nationalisation of coal. But he sees the giant mote in the acquisitive dynastic eye. Glories abound since the Tempests arrived with the Normans, but scandal is omnipresent. Much of the latter is familiar and/or ongoing. But new to some might be the bedding of the 3rd marchioness by Tsar Alexander I and the propositioning of Billy Graham's wife at Wynyard. Good, though, to read that a current scion, Khan (nee Goldsmith), disclaims socialite status and has a proper job.
March Lecture - 11 March 2019
“Putting on the Proms” - David Pickard
David Pickard, artistic director of the Proms and today’s Sir Henry Wood (minus the conducting) thanks his mum for his career in music admin. She pestered her teenager to write to the Royal Opera House for holiday work selling programmes; a telegram reply next day came from a manager desperate for a pair of props-moving hands. That led to a real ROH job after university. Later was a spell at a damp Regent’s Park Open-Air Theatre. Progress included running a provincial orchestra before big-time arrived: in charge at Glyndebourne. He sees a reverse parallel in the triumphs of Glyndebourne’s 1930s founder John Christie and the Proms’ 1895 co-founder. Christie was a businessman who met an artistic mate, Wood an artist who teamed with an organiser. The Sussex landowner showed soprano Audrey Mildmay his mansion the day they met and at the 25th bedroom said: “And here we’ll sleep when we’re married”. Wood’s fixer was impresario Robert Newman. An early Proms sponsor was ENT surgeon George Cathcart who stipulated “lower-key” music to protect singers’ throats. Proms 2019 are as yet unannounced but our tip for novelty in a season marking Wood’s 150 th birth year: Victorian pop songs.
“Putting on the Proms” - David Pickard
David Pickard, artistic director of the Proms and today’s Sir Henry Wood (minus the conducting) thanks his mum for his career in music admin. She pestered her teenager to write to the Royal Opera House for holiday work selling programmes; a telegram reply next day came from a manager desperate for a pair of props-moving hands. That led to a real ROH job after university. Later was a spell at a damp Regent’s Park Open-Air Theatre. Progress included running a provincial orchestra before big-time arrived: in charge at Glyndebourne. He sees a reverse parallel in the triumphs of Glyndebourne’s 1930s founder John Christie and the Proms’ 1895 co-founder. Christie was a businessman who met an artistic mate, Wood an artist who teamed with an organiser. The Sussex landowner showed soprano Audrey Mildmay his mansion the day they met and at the 25th bedroom said: “And here we’ll sleep when we’re married”. Wood’s fixer was impresario Robert Newman. An early Proms sponsor was ENT surgeon George Cathcart who stipulated “lower-key” music to protect singers’ throats. Proms 2019 are as yet unannounced but our tip for novelty in a season marking Wood’s 150 th birth year: Victorian pop songs.
February Lecture - 11 February 2019
“Treasures of the Turf” - Christopher Garibaldi
We liked the arty bits shown by Christopher Garibaldi, director of Newmarket's National Heritage Centre for Horseracing and Sporting Art, not least how Stubbs painted Gimcrack - the artist's da Vinci-like studies of equine anatomy paid off (even though he famously always got the galloping wrong) and especially a stunning Munnings paddock scene. History went down well too: York racecourse maybe the site of Roman racing at the local Circus Maximus; and it's a myth both Victoria and Cromwell hated the sport - pre Albert the queen cheered her own horses but her husband saw the fraternity as a "fast set" and after his death that attitude became one pillar of her mourning. Cromwell had a string of racehorses and a cavalry mindset. He banned racing (oddly, the proclamation calls the Lord Protector "his highness") because he feared unreconciled royalists might rally at meetings. During the suspension, Col Fairfax moved Newmarket bloodstock to Yorkshire thus explaining, says the fluent Garibaldi, why the county is still a racing hotspot. But most we enjoyed a royal cheating: in 1791 the Prince of Wales protesteth innocence too much in his rage at accusations that his Macaroni was held back in a heat at Newmarket to lengthen the odds in the final. Yes, Albert, it excites the fashionable, but also the louche.
“Treasures of the Turf” - Christopher Garibaldi
We liked the arty bits shown by Christopher Garibaldi, director of Newmarket's National Heritage Centre for Horseracing and Sporting Art, not least how Stubbs painted Gimcrack - the artist's da Vinci-like studies of equine anatomy paid off (even though he famously always got the galloping wrong) and especially a stunning Munnings paddock scene. History went down well too: York racecourse maybe the site of Roman racing at the local Circus Maximus; and it's a myth both Victoria and Cromwell hated the sport - pre Albert the queen cheered her own horses but her husband saw the fraternity as a "fast set" and after his death that attitude became one pillar of her mourning. Cromwell had a string of racehorses and a cavalry mindset. He banned racing (oddly, the proclamation calls the Lord Protector "his highness") because he feared unreconciled royalists might rally at meetings. During the suspension, Col Fairfax moved Newmarket bloodstock to Yorkshire thus explaining, says the fluent Garibaldi, why the county is still a racing hotspot. But most we enjoyed a royal cheating: in 1791 the Prince of Wales protesteth innocence too much in his rage at accusations that his Macaroni was held back in a heat at Newmarket to lengthen the odds in the final. Yes, Albert, it excites the fashionable, but also the louche.
January Lecture - 14 January 2019
Cathedral Care Taker - Geoff Clifton
When in 1220 the replacement Lincoln Cathedral installed its the magnificent Dean’s Eye rose window, the design, joshes cathedral structural engineer Geoff Clifton, “was not the work of a mason, but a priest – he relied on Faith.” If so, the Almighty made a reasonable job of staving off the window’s demise over the following 900 years. But it was touch and go, not least because emergency repairs and reinforcements over the centuries were, it seems, Gerry-built jobs. One stopgap obscured Christ’s face. When Clifton contemplated his own task – to rebuild completely, putting back 90 per cent of the original stained glass – he found that a hand-push could collapse the lot. His triumph, with implied 500-year warranty, involved encasing stainless steel rod in the 25ft diameter new masonry and within the small central ring around the holy visage. An added flourish was to attach a carving of the incumbent dean’s face, winking.
Cathedral Care Taker - Geoff Clifton
When in 1220 the replacement Lincoln Cathedral installed its the magnificent Dean’s Eye rose window, the design, joshes cathedral structural engineer Geoff Clifton, “was not the work of a mason, but a priest – he relied on Faith.” If so, the Almighty made a reasonable job of staving off the window’s demise over the following 900 years. But it was touch and go, not least because emergency repairs and reinforcements over the centuries were, it seems, Gerry-built jobs. One stopgap obscured Christ’s face. When Clifton contemplated his own task – to rebuild completely, putting back 90 per cent of the original stained glass – he found that a hand-push could collapse the lot. His triumph, with implied 500-year warranty, involved encasing stainless steel rod in the 25ft diameter new masonry and within the small central ring around the holy visage. An added flourish was to attach a carving of the incumbent dean’s face, winking.
December Lecture - 3 December 2018
“Spectacular South Africa” - Rosemary Legrand
Nelson Mandela was a better gardener than swimmer. In Chelsea Flower Show stalwart Rosemary Legrand's expertly illustrated account of a three-week self-drive around Cape Province's outstanding natural attractions, we began on Robben Island. It's Alcatraz-distance from both a civilised paradise and a cruel 21st-century aberration. Here in a dusty yard during his incarceration he nurtured plants and, in a cactusy thing that survives, hid a manuscript of his Long Walk to Freedom. He also surveyed the treacherous strait between his prison and Cape Town. But he will not have contemplated a watery escape; only one swimmer made it from captivity - a Dutchman centuries ago. When he at last walked free, one of the challenges Mandela faced was to improve the lot of millions living in squalor; it has not been fully met. Many "townships" are dangerous to visit. Mrs Legrand found a safe exception and shuddered, but admired the spirit of its clean and keen children. Return to a "big five" safari and more stunning blooms than you could shake a botanic encyclopedia at was incongruous.
“Spectacular South Africa” - Rosemary Legrand
Nelson Mandela was a better gardener than swimmer. In Chelsea Flower Show stalwart Rosemary Legrand's expertly illustrated account of a three-week self-drive around Cape Province's outstanding natural attractions, we began on Robben Island. It's Alcatraz-distance from both a civilised paradise and a cruel 21st-century aberration. Here in a dusty yard during his incarceration he nurtured plants and, in a cactusy thing that survives, hid a manuscript of his Long Walk to Freedom. He also surveyed the treacherous strait between his prison and Cape Town. But he will not have contemplated a watery escape; only one swimmer made it from captivity - a Dutchman centuries ago. When he at last walked free, one of the challenges Mandela faced was to improve the lot of millions living in squalor; it has not been fully met. Many "townships" are dangerous to visit. Mrs Legrand found a safe exception and shuddered, but admired the spirit of its clean and keen children. Return to a "big five" safari and more stunning blooms than you could shake a botanic encyclopedia at was incongruous.
November Lecture - 12 November 2018
Sweet Song of Avon - Elizabeth Merry
Literary scholar Elizabeth Merry promised us insight into the turbulent times that were a backdrop to the short (by today's standards; his 52 years were an achievement in those plague-ridden decades) and triumphant life of Shakespeare. We got it, in spades. Amid constant political and religious strife the astute Will, as a closet Catholic who made a living largely by writing often-contentious history presented as entertainment, lived by his wits as well as by the witticisms that often leavened even his tragedies. Ironic, then, that one of his closest shaves should involve a play almost without a comic line. In 1601, a faction returned from quelling Irish rebellion with ambitions to overthrow Elizabeth I; one of the conspirators was the Bard's patron, the Earl of Southampton. They paid 40 shillings, a useful sum, to have the playwright's company, the Lord Chamberlain's Men, stage Richard II, a tale of revolt against state corruption, in the hope of it encouraging insurrection. London yawned. The lovies told a trial: "It never occurred to us" and were acquitted.
Sweet Song of Avon - Elizabeth Merry
Literary scholar Elizabeth Merry promised us insight into the turbulent times that were a backdrop to the short (by today's standards; his 52 years were an achievement in those plague-ridden decades) and triumphant life of Shakespeare. We got it, in spades. Amid constant political and religious strife the astute Will, as a closet Catholic who made a living largely by writing often-contentious history presented as entertainment, lived by his wits as well as by the witticisms that often leavened even his tragedies. Ironic, then, that one of his closest shaves should involve a play almost without a comic line. In 1601, a faction returned from quelling Irish rebellion with ambitions to overthrow Elizabeth I; one of the conspirators was the Bard's patron, the Earl of Southampton. They paid 40 shillings, a useful sum, to have the playwright's company, the Lord Chamberlain's Men, stage Richard II, a tale of revolt against state corruption, in the hope of it encouraging insurrection. London yawned. The lovies told a trial: "It never occurred to us" and were acquitted.
October Lecture - 08 October 2018
After Dinner with Her Majesty - Oliver Everett
Oliver Everett, a former diplomat who was 17 years Royal Librarian, gave the grand sweep of history around royal libraries since medieval times and the establishment of the present library in three great rooms at Windsor in 1833: the bedchamber of Catherine of Braganza, the indoor walking gallery of Elizabeth I and Henry VII's bedchamber. There was a cruel piquancy behind the story that when Queen Catherine slept there her room was hanging space for the "Windsor beauties," portraits of her husband Charles II's mistresses commissioned from Sir Peter Lely. The walking gallery further enhances Prince Albert's reputation for Prussian practicality: he remonstrated to Victoria's librarians that the uniform height between book shelves meant volumes were categorised more by size than subject. And there was the tale behind the "Blenheim closet," a cosy corner of the library where in 1704 Anne was with the Duchess of Marlborough when the latter received her husband's note, sent 10 days earlier from Bavaria, asking her to tell the Queen the triumphant news from the battlefield. Mounted in the closet are French flags that are the peppercorn rent for Blenheim Palace, one a year, that to this day are paid by the Marlboroughs to the monarchy. The library also flaunts the identical rent still paid by the dukes of Wellington for their seat at Stratfield Saye, the gift that rewarded victory at Waterloo.
After Dinner with Her Majesty - Oliver Everett
Oliver Everett, a former diplomat who was 17 years Royal Librarian, gave the grand sweep of history around royal libraries since medieval times and the establishment of the present library in three great rooms at Windsor in 1833: the bedchamber of Catherine of Braganza, the indoor walking gallery of Elizabeth I and Henry VII's bedchamber. There was a cruel piquancy behind the story that when Queen Catherine slept there her room was hanging space for the "Windsor beauties," portraits of her husband Charles II's mistresses commissioned from Sir Peter Lely. The walking gallery further enhances Prince Albert's reputation for Prussian practicality: he remonstrated to Victoria's librarians that the uniform height between book shelves meant volumes were categorised more by size than subject. And there was the tale behind the "Blenheim closet," a cosy corner of the library where in 1704 Anne was with the Duchess of Marlborough when the latter received her husband's note, sent 10 days earlier from Bavaria, asking her to tell the Queen the triumphant news from the battlefield. Mounted in the closet are French flags that are the peppercorn rent for Blenheim Palace, one a year, that to this day are paid by the Marlboroughs to the monarchy. The library also flaunts the identical rent still paid by the dukes of Wellington for their seat at Stratfield Saye, the gift that rewarded victory at Waterloo.
September Lecture - 03 September 2018
Iceland: The Land of Geysers and Gyrs - Keith Offord
A fine painting of a gyr falcon by David Reid-Henry (and his life-story is a Google gem) inspired speaker Keith Offord, when eight, towards a career in wildlife and travel photography; his search for this rare predator, via ice-sharp pictures of Iceland's Tolkienesque landscapes and the plethora of other birdlife sharing an acreage four-fifths the size of England with a human population of only 348,000, was enthralling. The association's 136th year was launched with this stirring presentation about a land that rose volcanically from the Atlantic to such achievements as the claimed first parliament, the under-pavement heating of Reykjavik with hot water from the country's geysers and a world-class computer industry. We saw proof that the respective tectonic plates of Europe and America are separating by 1.2cm a year below this treeless (though bilberry-ed and lupin-ed) island, but the birds stole Mr Offord's show. Before the gyr climax, highlights included maniacal redshanks whose attacks rival Hitchcock's Birds, arctic terns that can clock-up a million migratory miles in a 30-year lifespan and the fulmar's micro desalination device in its beak.
Iceland: The Land of Geysers and Gyrs - Keith Offord
A fine painting of a gyr falcon by David Reid-Henry (and his life-story is a Google gem) inspired speaker Keith Offord, when eight, towards a career in wildlife and travel photography; his search for this rare predator, via ice-sharp pictures of Iceland's Tolkienesque landscapes and the plethora of other birdlife sharing an acreage four-fifths the size of England with a human population of only 348,000, was enthralling. The association's 136th year was launched with this stirring presentation about a land that rose volcanically from the Atlantic to such achievements as the claimed first parliament, the under-pavement heating of Reykjavik with hot water from the country's geysers and a world-class computer industry. We saw proof that the respective tectonic plates of Europe and America are separating by 1.2cm a year below this treeless (though bilberry-ed and lupin-ed) island, but the birds stole Mr Offord's show. Before the gyr climax, highlights included maniacal redshanks whose attacks rival Hitchcock's Birds, arctic terns that can clock-up a million migratory miles in a 30-year lifespan and the fulmar's micro desalination device in its beak.