Saturday October 13 2018

08:00 It's raining again. Lois and I get up and after breakfast we head over to the local Sainsbury's supermarket to do the food shopping. We come back home and relax with a cup of coffee on the couch.

11:00 My younger sister Gill, who lives in Cambridge - my only sibling, now that my other sister Kathy and my brother Steve have both died - has asked me to digitize all the family photos I have dating from 1960-1968 when our family lived in the city of Bristol. Gill was 2 years old when we moved to Bristol in 1960 and 10 when we left the city.

Gill has begun to write the story of her life in those years, first and foremost for the benefit of her 3 daughters. As the eldest of the 4 siblings, I have our collection of photo albums in my possession. The other day I promised her that I would check them all out and see how many photos we were talking about.

I find that I have about 150-200 family photos dating from that period. This morning I start scanning them in on my computer and downloading them onto a memory loss. I will send it to her next week.

It is actually thanks to me that we have so many photos from the period, and also that they are arranged so neatly in a photo album with informative captions, I have to say. I was the family's goody-goody, and but for me not many photos would have been taken, still less, added to albums, that's for sure.

I have a couple of pictures dating back to 1968 when a truck was parked in front of our house and some of the family's furniture was already in the truck waiting to be transported to the family's new house in Oxford. My late sister Kathy had already left home and moved into her own apartment - she was in a relationship with a married man to our parents' displeasure. She was so daring and bold compared to me, I have to say.

Flashback to August 1968 - The moving truck is parked in front of our house in Bristol.

My little brother Steve, then a 16 year old, reading a book in his bedroom. 

Most of the furniture had already been packed into the truck

My mother sits drinking a cup of tea in a corner of our almost empty kitchen-dining room.

She looks out of the window to watch our furniture being loaded onto the truck.

12:00 I exchange texts with Gill. She is also asking me to send her pictures of our mother, myself, Steve and Kathy, all as babies, which I am very happy to do.

It occurs to me that babies are just babies in their first few months, and very young children are just very young children - it is only later that cultural factors start to play in. A baby or a young child cries because it's hungry, uncomfortable, or afraid of something or other. And thus today's babies and young children are no different from the so-called "mitochondrial (African) Eve's" babies and young children born maybe 150,000 years ago.

Crying babies and young children: flashback to 1920 - my mother

panics when she discovers she is stuck in some bushes.

1947, me at 17 months, on the beach at the seaside resort of Bournemouth

150,000 years ago: African Eve with one of her crying children

(reconstruction)

One of the many pleasures you get with this kind of project is that you discover photos you have not seen before. I come across this charming picture of my mother, surrounded by some of her 8 siblings: she is sitting on some sister or other's lap - how cute! But what a childhood, living there among 8 very active and noisy siblings: my mother was the quiet and calm one - I shudder to think about what she went through.

Flashback to 1920 or thereabouts - my mother sitting on a sister's lap

13:00 Lois and I have lunch and afterwards we go to bed for a few hours. We read about 10 pages of our respective bedtime books.

18:00 We have dinner and spend the rest of the evening watching television. An episode of an interesting documentary series is showing, called Britain at Low Tide, which showcases archaeological remains sometimes revealed by the low tide and all that kind of thing.

The program's main presenters are the charming geologist Tori Herridge, and also the gorgeous redhead Charlotte Micklenburgh, an archaeologist from the London Museum.

Program presenter, geologist Tori Herridge (right)

along with the gorgeous, red-haired archaeologist, Charlotte Micklenburgh

This episode is all about the county of Fife in Scotland (originally a separate kingdom).

The county of Fife was amongst other things the scene of Britain's worst ever railway disaster, when the newly built railway bridge over the Firth of Tay collapsed in 1879, taking a train down with it into the water. 

Tonight the program's researchers investigate a ship lying on the beach that was probably used for clearing up operations in the wake of the disaster.

The Firth of Tay near the famous bridge which collapsed in 1879

I recall that the Scottish poet, William McGonagall, wrote what has been described as the worst poem in the English language about this famous disaster.

Start of McGonagall's famous "bad" poem about the disaster

McGonagall became the hero of Spike Milligan, the late English comedian, and Milligan played the role of McGonagall in a 1974 comedy movie, with Peter Sellers playing Queen Victoria.

The film, which apparently also included a few nude scenes at the director's request, was a humorous biopic about McGonagall, and featured several of McGonagall's actual poems, including McGonagall's performance in Macbeth (in the title role) and his "improvement" of the play's plot, and other amusing incidents.

Apparently Peter Sellers "insisted" on getting involved in the film and he played his role as queen Victoria kneeling, but on roller skates.

Unfortunately, the film was a bit of a failure. In the New York Times, Richard Eder wrote that the movie was "excellent, and parts of it are lovely and fun. But it lacks enough of an organising principle in its chaos to become successful as a movie ... The tempo is frenetic, the level of reality changes every second minute, it is filled with visual absurdities, old jokes and parodies. Some of them work, some of them just annoy ... When McGonagall dies you're sad. In spite of his madness, his delusions, his bad poems, you miss him. He is a brilliant failure. So is this movie in a way, with all its bad jokes, carelessness and confusion.

Sellers (on the left) as Queen Victoria, and Milligan (on the right)

as the bad poet, William McGonagall

My god, that movie sounds fantastic - can I get it on DVD please?

22:00 We go to bed - zzzzzz !!!!!

Danish translation

08:00 Det regner kraftigt igen. Lois og jeg står op og efter morgenmad kører vi over til det lokale Sainsburys-supermarked for at gå madindkøb. Vi kommer hjem igen og slapper af med en kop kaffe i sofaen.

11:00 Min lille søster Gill, der bor i Cambridge – min eneste søskende, nu hvor min anden søster Kathy og min bror Steve, er begge døde – har bedt mig om at digitalisere alle de familiefotos jeg har, som daterer fra 1960-1968, da familien boede i byen Bristol. Gill var 2 år gammel, da vi i 1960 flyttede til Bristol, og 10, da vi forlod byen.

Gill er begyndt at opskrive historien af sit liv i de der år, først og fremmest til fordel af sine 3 døtre.  Som ældste af 4 søskende har jeg vores samling af fotoalbummer i min besiddelse. Forleden lovede jeg hende, at jeg ville tjekke dem alle ud og se, hvor mange fotos det drejede sig om.

Jeg opdager, at jeg har ca. 150-200 familiefotos der daterer fra den pågældende periode. I formiddag går jeg i gang med at scanne dem ind på computeren og downloade dem på en hukommelsestab. Jeg vil afsende det hende næste uge.

Det er takket være mig, at vi har så mange fotos fra perioden, også det, at de er arrangeret så sirligt i et fotoalbum med informative billedtekster – det må jeg nok sige! Jeg var familiens dydsmønster, og uden mig, ville fotos enten ikke være blevet taget eller ikke været lagt i albummer – det har jeg ikke nogen tvivl om.

Jeg har et par billeder, der daterer fra flyttedagen i 1968, da en flyttevogn var parkeret foran vores hus og nogle af familiens møbler var allerede lagt i vognen for at blive transporteret til familiens nye hus i byen Oxford. Min afdøde søster Kathy havde allerede forladt hjem og flyttet ind i sin egen lejlighed – hun var i et forhold med en gift mand, til vores forældres ærgrelse. Hun var så kæk og dristig i sammenligning med mig selv: det må jeg nok sige.

Tilbageblik til august 1968 - flyttevognen er parkeret foran vores hus i Bristol.

min lillebror Steve, på det der tidspunkt en 16 årig,

læser en bog i soveværelset. De fleste møbler er allerede blevet pakket ind i flyttevognen

Min mor sidder og drikker en kop te i et hjørne af vores nærmest tomme spisestue.

Hun kigger ud af vinduet for at se vores møbler blive lagt i flyttevognen.

12:00 Jeg udveksler sms-er med Gill. Hun beder mig om også at sende billeder af vores mor, mig selv, Steve og Kathy som babyer, hvilket jeg er meget glad for at gøre.

Det falder mig ind, at babyer i sine første få måneder bare er babyer, og meget unge børn bare er meget unge børn – det er kun senere, at kulturelle faktorer begynder at spille ind. En baby eller et ungt barn græder, da han/hun er sulten, ubekvem , bange for et eller noget. Og nutidens babyer og unge børn er slet ikke anderledes, end den såkaldte ”mitrokondrielle (afrikanske) Evas” babyer og unge børn, der blev født for måske 150.000 år siden.

Grædende babyer og unge børn: tilbageblik til 1920: min mor

går i panik da hun opdager, hun sidder fast i nogle buske.

1947, mig på 17 mdr, på stranden i badebyen Bournemouth

For 150.000 år siden: den afrikanske Eva med en af sine grædende børn

(rekonstruktion)

En af de mange glæder man får ved dette slags projekt er, at man opdager fotos, man ikke har set før. Jeg faldt over dette charmerende billede af min mor, omgivet af nogle af sine 8 søskende: hun sidder på en eller anden storsøsters skød – hvor sødt! Men sådan en barndom, blandt 8 meget aktive og støjende søskende: min mor var den stille og rolige én – jeg gyser at tænke på den.

tilbageblik til 1920 eller deromkring –

min mor sidder på en eller anden søsters skød

13:00 Vi spiser frokost og bagefter går vi i seng i et par timer. Vi læser ca 10 sider af vores henholdsvise sengetidbøger.

18:00 Vi spiser aftensmad og bruger resten af aftenen på at se lidt fjernsyn. De viser et afsnit af en interessant dokumentarfilmserie, der hedder ”Britain at Low Tide” (Storbritannien ved lavvande) og fremviser arkæologiske rester nogle gange afsløret af lavvandet og al den slags ting.

Programmets hovedværter er den charmerende geolog, Tori Herridge, også den pragtfulde, rødhårede Charlotte Micklenburgh, en arkæolog fra Londons museum.

Programmets vært, geologen Tori Herridge (til højre)

sammen med den pragtfulde, rødhårede arkæolog, Charlotte Micklenburgh

Dette afsnit handler om grevskabet Fife i Skotland (oprindeligt et adskilte rig).

Grevskabet Fife var blandt andet scenen af Storbritanniens værste togulykke nogensinde, da den nybyggede bro over Firth of Tay, kollapserede i 1879.  Programmets forskere undersøger et skib, der ligger på stranden, der sandsynligvis blev brugt i kølvandet af katastrofien.

floden Tay i nærheden af den berømte bro,

der kollapserede i 1879

Jeg mindes, at den skotske digter, William McGonagall, skrev det, der er blevet beskrivet som det værste digt på det engelske sprog, om denne berømte katastrofe.

Starten på McGonagalls berømte ”dårlige” digt om katastrofen

McGonagall blev helten af Spike Milligan, den afdøde engelske komiker, og Milligan spillede McGonagalls rolle i en 1974 komediefilm. Peter Sellers spillede dronning Victoria.

Filmen, som inkluderede  et par nøgne scener på instruktørens anmodning var en humoristisk biopisk af McGonagall, og indeholdt flere af McGonagalls egentlige digte, også McGonagalls præstation i Macbeth (i titelrollen) og hans "forbedring" af plottet, og andre morsomme historier.  

Det lader til, at Peter Sellers ”insisterede” på at deltage i filmen og spillede sin rolle som dronning Victoria på hans knæ, på rulleskøjter.

Filmen var desværre lidt af en fiasko. I New York Times skrev Richard Eder, at filmen var ”udmærket, og dele af det er dejlige og sjove. Men det mangler nok af et organiserende princip i sit kaos til at blive succesfuld som en film ... Tempoet er frenetisk, niveauet af virkelighed skifter hvert andet minut, det er fyldt med visuelle absurditeter, gamle vittigheder og parodier. Nogle af dem virker, nogle irriterer ... McGonagall dør, og du er ked af det. På trods af hans vanvid, hans vrangforestillinger, hans dårlige digte, savner du ham. Han er en strålende fiasko. Så på en måde er denne film med alle dens dårlige vittigheder, uforsigtighed og forvirring.

Sellers (på venstre) som dronning Victoria og Milligan (på højre)

som den dårlige digter, William McGonagall

Du godeste, den der film lyder helt fantastisk – kan jeg få den på dvd, måske?

22:00 Vi går i seng – zzzzzz!!!!!