A different view on current affairs & history
Welfit Oddy represents the second wave of economic development of Port Elizabeth. Whereas the first wave was predicated upon agricultural products, the next wave broadly encompassed engineering of which the vehicle industry was a substantial component.
Main picture: Welfit Oddy’s premises from 1946 to 1944-Plants #1,2 & 3
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The roots of Antony Scott-Parkin can be traced to long before the arrival of his great great grandfather John Parkin in Port Elizabeth in 1820. Whereas John made his mark as a property owner, Anthony would be remembered as the incongruous combination as lawyer and finally as a priest. Also of interest is the conversion of the surname Parkin into Scott-Parkin.
Main picture: Anthony Scott-Parkin
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It was about 1986 and Guy Fawkes was coming up, my favourite day of the year as a kid. I motivated my friends at Kentron to make it a memorable event as I had the ideal place in the sticks at Crowthorne. We passed the hat around the department and collected enough to buy a number of big boxes of fireworks. My partners in crime in those days were Martin Clark (RIP), aero engineer, Grant Wilson, mech engineer, better known for pulling a moonie at the drop of a, well, pants. Other notable miscreants were Dave Thompson (RIP), and Richard Wainwright. The first two and myself formed the Terrible Trio as we shared a lift club and were similarly irreverent and always looking for fun or kak. We decided that between us we had 12 years of engineering study and so were well qualified to design a proper skyrocket – stand aside Elon.
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Adversity never deters the determined individual and John Roland “Dummy” Brown had to face much adversity in his truncated life. Hence his life would be somewhat out of the ordinary.
Main picture: Painting of the Baakens River Valley by John Roland Brown
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The English artist, Thomas Baines, was a prolific painter as well as a prolific explorer, travelling extensively over British colonial southern Africa as well as Australia. Born on the 27th November 1820 at King’s Lynn in the United Kingdom, he died 55 years later on the 8th May 1875 in Durban. Baines was one of the greatest African travellers, his geographical coverage, variety of subject and prolific output far exceeded any other artist based in South Africa. It was during a visit to Port Elizabeth during 1873 and 1874 that he was to paint a picture of Cradock Place amongst others.
The commentary on the painting in this blog is derived verbatim from the thesis of Marijke Cosser entitled Images of a Changing Frontier Worldview in Eastern Cape Art, From Bushman Rock Art to 1875 which was submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts of Rhodes University in December 1992
Main picture: Cradock Place in 1873
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Someone described Trump as a sentient naartjie, although I think he was stretching the sentient bit. This self-proclaimed ‘stable genius’ actually brags about aceing a comprehension test which is really designed to test for Alzheimer’s.
This week saw Liz Cheney reveal another cutting description of him by a Republican Representative who muttered, “The things we do for the orange Jesus,” when asked to sign a petition on 6th January objecting to the outcome of presidential election.
Let’s see how well this description fits him. Orange he undoubtedly is. In fact, his overuse of fake tan has probably indelibly stained him for life. Isn’t this delicious irony for a man who routinely accuses anyone and anything of being fake while he is the mother of all fakers – the ultimate motherfaker. Enough of that – on to the Jesus bit.
Jesus performed many miracles in his short life. With just the laying on of hands he cured blindness, got cripples to walk, and if he lived today, he would have cured Covid. He also prayed to his dad for a bit of help which I found a bit confusing as he would be talking to himself if the Catholics are to be believed.
Trump also needed the helping hand of his dad when he inherited his fortune but is quite impressive in his own right. Just by talking about Chloroquine as a cure for Covid he managed to help the planet rid itself of some idiots who took his word as gospel. Powerful stuff, idiocy. He further advanced the cause of reducing world population with his daily unhinged sermons, proselytising against all scientific advice and exhorting people to praise him and worship him in that parallel universe – the Church of Trump (let’s hope he’s not resurrected in two years time).
Where Jesus promised heavenly riches by believing in God (himself, I suppose), Trump promised investors, who believed in him, fantastic earthly returns when he magically inflated the value of all his assets manyfold to show what an astute businessman he was. This ability to conjure up things out of mid-air was matched by Jesus with his bread and papsak trick.
But where Trump trumps Jesus is that he doesn’t have to pray or say anything to get a result. In a sycophantic interview with Sean Hannity on Faux News he mansplained that he didn’t even have to say anything but just think about it and highly secret documents, privy to only a few cognoscenti, would be mystically declassified and, I suppose, become public documents and could be distributed to the masses to cogitate on.
As I said before, powerful stuff, idiocy. Really, really powerful stuff.
In its heyday, Fogarty’s was the pre-eminent bookshop in Port Elizabeth occupying premises in Main Street commencing in the basement of No 59 Main Street in 1946. The range of books was extensive especially in military history of which I was an ardent fan. Not having money to purchase, I would nevertheless spend hours perusing the books on display.
Main picture: Interior of Fogarty’s Bookshop
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The British have lost their pre-eminence in just about everything except for their self-effacing humour and, of course, pageantry. Both of these featured in Queen Elizabeth’s life. Who can forget her Jubilee sketch with Paddington Bear or temporarily becoming a Bond girl for the opening of the 2012 Olympics. Now her funeral is probably set to eclipse everything with, at least, the possible exception of Diana’s funeral in terms of the tears. Maybe even that other queen, Elton John, will be moved by the lure of lucre to rejig one of his songs for her as well. I suggest Funeral for a Friend suitably modified. Of course, during the Prince Andrew scandal, he could have re-released an old hit as Don’t Let Your Son Go Down On Me and the royalties could have paid for the legal settlement.
Enough of that. Back to the Progress. In the days of yore, most people never travelled more than a kilometre or two from where they were born and if they didn’t WFH, they WFNH (Work From Near Home). They didn’t have TV, Instagram or Tickle Tockle and so it was important that the Regent routinely do a Grand Tour to remind the common folk of their splendour, power, strength and divinity. These were called Progresses. They were large affairs as the Royal party still had to be kept in sumptuous luxury and there were tournaments, hunting and entertainment organised along the way. It was also a good excuse to get out of the pestilential London which stank in summer with its open sewers. But the grandest was Henry VIII’s Grand Progress all the way to York in 1541 with a retinue upwards of 4000. Henry wished to dazzle the rebellious northerners with his royal bejeweled codpiece and his latest acquisition, the comely 19-year-old Catherine Howard amongst other things. But all good things come to an end as she was too comely and was beheaded within months of their return for infidelity.
Fast forward nearly 500 years. ERII’s majestic 70-year reign has finally come to an end and after 96 years she‘s kicked the bucket, she’s shuffled off ‘er mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible*. Only two things remain. She will lie in state at Westminster where an estimated 1 million people will try to pay their final respects. Afterwards she will start her final earthly Royal Progress, starting at Westminster Abbey and ending at Windsor Castle, 35km away, in a lead casket for posterity.
There will be much lamentation. I just hope there won’t be some crazy Muslim or Irish terrorist to rain on her final progress.
*From Monty Python’s dead parrot sketch.
While I do not deny climate change, I am sceptical of climate modelling. One only has to look at the UK handling of the Covid crisis where their responses were based on simulation models produced by SAGE (Scientific Advisory Group for Emergencies). They caused terrible harm to the UK economy. Only in the final wave which still showed scenarios of virtually everyone being infected and overwhelming the NHS did the UK government show them the middle finger and do the opposite to what they recommended.
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Of course, ERII does not refer to season 2 of that long running soapie, ER, but rather to an even longer running reality show, namely the reign of Elizabeth Regina II with all its plot twists, infidelities, deaths and scandals. After 70 years on the throne, she bowed out this past week with the quiet dignity with which she lived her life. The Queen is dead. Long live the King.
I don’t wish to make many comments on her reign as small-minded people like Julius Malema have already taken their cheap shots at her. The only time Julius takes expensive shots is when the EFF High Command toasts their latest trashing of Parliamentary rules with Johnnie Walker Blue. All I can say is that South Africans have had a schizophrenic relationship with her. The Afrikaners hated her, my generation of English speakers by and large had a soft spot for her, and the Blacks lived with her as much as one lives with piles.
The UK is the only country where the country’s name has never appeared on its stamps. They merely bore an image of the current monarch. The number 8 must be bad luck for the monarchy. In between jousting, King Henry VIII went through 6 wives trying to produce viable male issue. King Edward VIII abdicated in 1937 after less than a year after insisting that his jousting with the divorcee, Wallis Simpson, be made a more permanent sport. The result was that his brief reign is only marked by the issue of 4 basic definitive stamps and no issue to trouble the royal genealogists.
By contrast, Queen Lizzie set world records – she appeared on 736 definitive and commemorative stamp sets. The commemorative sets ranged through British history, achievements, current events and art and literature. Apart from the classic writers like Shakespeare and Wordsworth being celebrated, the Queen also lent her profile to two sets in 2010 that celebrate the stories of A.A. Milne. I am talking about one of the nicest bunch of literary characters ever conceived – Winnie-the-Pooh and Friends in the hundred acre wood. These comprised 10 stamps made from the original 1926-8 illustrations by E.H Shepard which are as classical and timeless as the lovely, innocent stories which we could have far more of in these dissipated times of fatwas, elementary school massacres and narcissistic presidents and selfies.
Until 1966, the Queen’s head appeared as a photo (or a woodcut version of it) looking to the left in a ¾ view. Since then, she appeared as a side-on view, either as a marble bust with a crown on the definitive stamps, or purely as a silhouette without a crown (maybe a tiara) on the commemorative stamps.
Some people would not care a groat for her. In the philatelic world, she’s the GOAT (Greatest Of All Time).
Oh well. Time to turn over a new leaf in my neglected childhood stamp album. My last British stamp was from about 1974 so I’m missing more than 600 sets of stamps. Maybe I’ll keep up this time.