They don’t make poets like that any more

In the February Literary Review, Adrian Tinniswood reviews John Stubbs’ new book Reprobates: The Cavaliers of the English Civil War, which is about the Cavalier poets in particular – Carew, Suckling, Lovelace, Herrick et al. The most colourful was William Davenant:

Born in 1606, he was Shakespeare’s godson, although in later life he often hinted darkly at a closer relationship. While in his twenties he won fame for the court masques he wrote in collaboration with Inigo Jones, and lost his nose to syphilis and the quicksilver used to treat it. (In 1650, when he was facing a treason trial for a plot to export the royalist cause to the Americas, the Commons voted against proceeding with the case. ‘Some Gentlemen, out of pitty, were pleased to let him have the Noes of the House, because he had none of his own.’ My, how we laughed.) By the time he dropped dead at his own theatre one spring evening in 1668, Davenant had succeeded Jonson as poet laureate, fought for the king and been knighted for his ‘loyalty and poet­ry’, written a string of successful masques, acted as a secret agent for Henrietta Maria during her exile in France, staged the first English opera, and, in a mid-life career change, become a successful theatrical manager and masterminded a renaissance in English drama.

Sad to say, the NNDB records that:

His plays are utterly unreadable, and his poems are usually stilted and unnatural. [. . .] his influence on English drama must be condemned as wholly deplorable.

Even so, I bet he was good company.

Oh Happy Day

We must all remember the Law of Unintended Consequences, and the triumphalism we see on the TV news from America is unattractive, but even so this seems like a good day to post a link to this clip of Edwin Hawkins (who wrote the song) with his sister Lynette Hawkins Stephens and the ever-amazing Edwin Hawkins Singers performing the joyous “Oh Happy Day” in 1987. Introduced by Paul Simon. When the choir comes in full-strength at 1:11 the sound is just thrilling.

 There’s an earlier performance here without the choir, but it is worth seeing as a reminder of how sexy gospel can be, not to mention funky.

And here – yes, I spoil you because you are worth it – is a performance of the song by Aretha Franklin and Mavis Staples from the 1987 live album One Lord, One Baptism. There are frustratingly few shots from the actual concert, and Aretha had got a bit mannered by then, and prima donna assoluta, but still – what a voice.

An historical note: when I was a schoolboy in the 60s I owned a 45, aka single, of this song as performed by Hawkins and his choir. (For younger readers, a 45 was like a mini-LP, a circular bit of vinyl that had usually one song on one side and one on the other – and you had to buy it in a record shop. As in pay money for music. Yeah, the 60s were weird.) 

I also had 45s by the Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Love, Frank Zappa, the Band, Jethro Tull, Bob Dylan, the Moody Blues, King Crimson (I am not making this up), Cream and Pink Floyd. Later, in the early 70s, there would be NZ singles by Split Ends (sic) and Brent Parlane, among others. 

What strikes me now is that these records were released in the hope that they might become hits – and radio was so eclectic in those days that you did hear music as diverse and uncommercial as this every day, so it wasn’t an unreasonable hope. I don’t know if the 60s was a golden age for music – I guess every generation thinks its music is the best – but it sure was a golden age for open-minded radio.

The limits of Toby Young

Toby Young, author of How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, has maxed out his Facebook friends – you are allowed only 5000 and he scored his 5000th yesterday. Having reached his limit, he has set up a fan page. Skite.

I know about this because I am one of the 5000. This is not because I am one of those saddos who “friends” famous people who have never met or even heard of them. It is because last year, out of the blue, he emailed me, opening with the words “I’m a fan of your blog”. Toby, Toby, I thought, remember the First Rule of Bullshit: never bullshit a bullshitter.

He proceeded to ask me very politely to do him a small favour, and ended with the words, “I throw myself at your mercy.”

Naturally I did him the small favour because that’s the kind of person I am, I can’t help it, so sue me already – but also because he is Toby Young and I am not, I like his column in the Spectator and I like the idea of the Free School he helped establish.

He was fulsome in his expressions of gratitude. However, he wasn’t nearly as generous in his thanks as the journalist and author Francis Wheen whom earlier I had also helped with his enquiries – he invited to a rather famous politico-literary regular lunch here next time I am in London. No of course he didn’t mean it any more than Toby did, but I do think it’s nice when people make an effort.

Fun fact of the day

G.K. Chesterton’s wife was named Frances Blogg.

The most disgusting recipe ever?

My significantly better half’s mother rang seeking advice on how best to reproduce a dish they both had in Uzbekistan on their holiday last year – the one they had while I looked after the children for three weeks, got them through the change to daylight saving and attended all the end-of-term activities including a poetry recital, sports awards and a concert. Not that I mind.

The dish my mother-in-law – who is an exceptional cook – was intending to replicate was a salad of beetroot and apple they’d had in Tashkent or similar. What else might it need, she wondered. She was not seeking advice from me, I hasten to add, but from her daughter who is also an exceptional cook. While they conferred I googled and found this recipe. It is a salad of beetroot and apple but doesn’t look Uzbek to me. It’s not just the sesame seeds. It’s not just the “ready processed beetroot”, the shop-bought French dressing, the carrot or the parsley. No, it’s that other. . . thing in there. Ewww.

This recipe, needless to say, is from England.

Beetroot & Apple Salad
Ingredients - Serves 4
4 Small Cooked Beetroot
2 Tablespoons Toasted Sesame Seeds
3 Green Apples
1 Carrot
2 Pineapple Rings - optional
1 Large Sprig Parsley
8 Tablespoons French Dressing

Method
Toast the sesame seeds either on a tray in a hot oven or in a heavy pan on top of the stove until they go light brown, be careful not to burn them.
Wash, core and slice the apples into thin wedges.
We have presumed that you will use ready processed beetroot, the sort that come in vacuum packs. If you are using fresh beetroot just scrub them and boil in plenty of water to which you have added a couple of tablespoons of vinegar. This helps to keep the colour from bleeding out. When they are cooked let them cool, the skin will peel off in your fingers.
Chop the beetroot into small dice. Cut the pineapple into small wedges.
Peel the carrot and grate finely.
Wash, drain and finely chop the parsley.
Mix all together well and then add eight tablespoons of French Dressing, either shop bought, or as below.

Some questions I am frequently asked: #1

Q: Why so quiet on the blogging?

A: Events, dear boy, events.

Nominative indeterminism

Call me insensitive but I find it hard to take any of this seriously, just because of the names of boat and skipper:

Protests over the Brazilian oil giant Petrobras’s ship heated up when police from a patrolling navy boat boarded San Pietro, which is owned by local iwi.

A Police spokesman said the arrest of skipper Elvis Teddy came after a blatant breach of safety by the boat.

See previous posts on nominative determinism here, here, here and here.

Another day, another takahe

Long thought to be extinct, takahe were discovered alive and well in Fiordland by Geoffrey Orbell in 1948 – about 250 of them. However by 1981 there were only 121 left. A conservation programme saw numbers rise to 171 in the wild by 2005. In 2008 DOC estimated the total population in the wild and in island sanctuaries to be 227.

This afternoon we took some friends from England to Maungatautari Ecological Island to see some native bush and listen to the birds singing behind the 47 kilometre fence which keeps predators out. A breeding pair of takahe, Matariki and Hauhunga, was introduced in 2006; their first chick was hatched in January 2010; two more hatched in November. Another breeding pair was released in 2009 but I can’t find any reports of issue. Even so there must be seven takahe on the mountain now – though as the sanctuary covers 3400 hectares, there’s little chance you’d see one.

But we did. About 10 minutes into our walk in the southern enclosure we saw a takahe, just five metres from the track, calmly waddling around grubbing for food, which apparently is what they do all day. It looked like a big fat pukeko and was completely unfazed by four adults and three children stomping up the hill so close.

Of course then our friends wanted to see a kiwi. . .

Monkeys riding dogs

. . . while herding goats. Yes, herding goats.

See it at http://youtu.be/qY_5HiTklrk

Monitor: David Thompson

Brief encounter

It’s school hellidays so, this being Cambridge, the children are spending the first week learning to ride horses. I collected them at 4 p.m. this afternoon and among the other parents collecting their children was:

A woman in a burqa.

She said a cheery hello.

I don’t know which was the more surprising.

She may be there tomorrow – but how will I recognise her?