The House Husband

So, today I started on the acrylics. Given the medium, these are all modern paintings by modern painters and, therefore, not quite so easy to research. I know that sounds odd but it’s true. There’s a lot of information about long dead and famous people (and things) but precious little about those that may still be living. Or only just dead.

The subjects are also modern. A buccaneer jet landing on the aircraft carrier, HMS Ark Royal or a cross section of an animal cell, being just two examples.

As well as struggling to find the people who created these pieces, I also had a bit of job finding out information regarding the subjects. You’d think something as big and well known as HMS Ark Royal would be simple however, there have been more than one.

The first one was originally built for Sir Walter Raleigh but was purloined by the crown and called the Ark Royal in 1587. This one didn’t have planes landing on it so it can easily be discounted. The next one was built in 1914 as an aircraft carrier but then, in 1934 she was renamed the Pegasus because they were building another Ark Royal. The next one was sunk by the Germans in 1941. Finally, number four was launched in 1950 but was a bit old fashioned by 1978 when they decided to build the biggest, meanest Ark Royal of them all!

The one in the picture I was researching was only decommissioned this year (it was all over the news at the time) but, even so, I had to sift through a lot of information before I could find something worth using. And the whole day was more or less the same.

One frustration that always galls me is the fact that I cannot access academic journals. I had been searching in vain for information about a medical illustrator called Cynthia Clarke. I found a few small references to her but nothing substantive. Then I found an obituary but it was in a journal! So I couldn’t actually read it. Fortunately her relevant dates (birth/death) were in the title but that was it. I could have had lots of delicious information. Now it just means the record is incomplete which upsets me. A lot!

Just to show my Masters wasn’t a complete waste of time…today Nick spent quite a long time on the phone trying to trace a woman who used to work at the Science Museum. He tried her last known employer and talked to lots of different people. I couldn’t help but overhear her name – he said it many, many times in the course of many, many conversations. I found her on linked in (she’d changed her name and her job) and sent him the link. It took me about three minutes. Thank you City University!

Anyway, one bit of fun was had with a painting of an annual show day at the Wroughton branch of the Science Museum. It was held by a group called the Light Aircraft Association and pictured was something called a Quickie Q1.

There isn’t always an image with the record so sometimes (as in this case) I have no idea what it looks like or, sometimes, what it is. So I did a search on Quickie Q1 and quickly discovered that it was a kit plane which hobbyists would buy, then build over two weekends and, finally, fly. It can only seat one person and flies just over 200mph with a cruising speed of 194mph but it looks very cool. Here’s the page on it from the Museum of Flight.

Burt Rutan, one of the men who designed it, has said that they based the Quickie Q1 on the X-Wing fighters from Star Wars and, if you look at it from the front, it does look similar. They were very popular and even now there are many online forums with people swapping ideas on how to improve the engine or with help on what to replace pieces with that are no longer made.

Burt Rutan now works on civilian space craft (like the Virgin one) and his website is suitably space age. He seems like an amazing guy but is probably a pain to sit next to on a plane.

Speaking of aircraft, I realise I haven’t answered Mirinda’s question about what the Fokkers were made of. The construction was a timber frame covered with canvas. The engine and related bits were, of course, metal. Here’s a picture of the one that crash landed in England, had the insignia swapped and, after the war, used for sky writing.

The Fokker S.E. 5A converted for use as a sky writer

And of course, the latest gladdy update:

Gladiolus - day five

This time I took it from the other side! I have now run out of sides. Any more complaints and you’ll just have to wait for it to blossom!!

I can’t help it. Whenever I see Ben Stiller’s name on a film, I avoid it. I just find him annoying. It’s a pity because sometimes he manages to be in some fairly decent films with great co-stars. But, as I said, I can’t help it.

I could just manage watching him in Extras because he was just playing the person I have always thought he was: An annoying, egomaniac convinced he is the greatest comic actor of our time.

Why, you may ask, am I talking about the annoying Ben Stiller? It’s because of the Fokker films. Although, not really. Today I was researching Anthony Fokker, the guy who made the aeroplanes. And, as far as I know, he had nothing to do with Ben Stiller.

So, ignoring him…I have a rather odd memory that relates to a Fokker plane. Many years ago I went for a quickly planned trip to Tasmania. It was quickly planned because Ann-Marie bet me that I couldn’t save the money to go. Actually she didn’t believe I was capable of saving any money for anything. Granted, she was right, however, I accepted her challenge and left a New Year’s party for Kingsford-Smith airport, still drunk, in order to catch the flight down south.

I don’t remember a lot about the flight (I slept for most of it) but something I’ll never forget is that the plane was a Fokker Friendship and it rattled a lot. Had I been sober I may have been more concerned. I’ll swear to my final breath that the wings actually flapped.

I was part of an organised tour group and most of the other passengers emerged at Hobart looking decidedly green. So it wasn’t just me seeing gremlins or anything.

The reason I bring all of this up is because today I researched Anthony Fokker, the guy who started the whole Fokker thing.

He was born in Java to Dutch parents in 1890, back when Java was part of Holland. His father was a Dutch coffee plantation owner who moved his family back to Holland in order to send the kids to school, ensuring a Dutch upbringing. Anthony, however, wasn’t very good at organised education and was a bit of a tearaway.

At about this time, a chap had built a small aircraft called the Spin. I have no idea why it was called the Spin, unless it had something to do with the way it landed. Actually, I do know. Spin actually means Spider. Anthony was in love! He knew he could make a better one so he did. Can you imagine? He just built a plane. Then he flew it. He was 20!!!

He would give demonstrations of, what he called Spin II and take people for joyrides until his business partner crashed it into a tree and wrote it off. This didn’t stop Anthony though; he built Spin III!

The Germans were a bit keen on his ideas and employed him to design and build planes for the German war effort. And so he did. Developing, designing and building faster and bigger aircraft. He was the guy responsible for the Red Baron planes (Fokker Dr.l) which were the scourge of many an aerial dogfight.

Model of a Fokker Tri-plane

One of his greatest innovations was to mount a machine gun at the front of a plane and, using a series of gears that worked in synch with the propeller, had it fire bullets between the spinning blades. There is some doubt that he was the only one working on this or even that he came up with the final solution however, his was the one adopted. Obviously this made it a lot easier for the pilots to win in the sky and the German attacks soon became known as the Fokker Scourge. The German air supremacy was set by such innovations.

Model of a Fokker EIII mono-plane

After the war, the Dutch weren’t too keen on the war Fokkers, so he scrapped all of his designs and started afresh in Holland, creating a company that eventually became the Fokker Aircraft Company.

He was incredibly successful, also opening a factory in the US in 1922. At one stage over 75% of planes flying in Europe were Fokkers. What finished off the company was the fact that newer airplane manufacturers were building their planes out of steel, something he never did. I guess he had far too much investment in his own manufacturing processes and couldn’t really afford to change.

He died in 1939 and the Fokker Company went on until it went bankrupt in 1996 and it’s various bits were sold off to its competitors.

Having learned all of this, it was obvious I had to go up to the Flight gallery at lunchtime and get pictures of anything Fokker related on display.

Full size Fokker Gloster

Actually the Science Museum has an old Fokker that landed in England during the war with German livery which was then repainted by the Brits to their own. I think this must be at Wroughton (the plane part of the museum) because I couldn’t find it on the 3rd floor. However, there were lots of models.

Today was also the day I completed the oil paintings! 272 records completed and cross referenced. Next week I will be working on acrylics (there’s only seven of those) to complete all the PCF records. Yay!

I learned an awful lot about Humber bicycles today. The most surprising thing was that the big metal sprocket which the chain goes around and the pedals are attached to, had a pattern which was made to resemble people. Like paper dolls, they are all attached at the upraised hands and spread feet. There are five of them. I wasn’t able to find out why but it was something they were known for.

The company doesn’t exist any more because they were bought by Raleigh Cycles a while back but the innovations they brought to the world of cycling remain. What also remains are a number of fantastic posters from the early 20th century depicting some seriously rough looking bikes with Edwardian ladies and top hated gentlemen riding or holding them. Though, I’m quite taken with this one I found on the Net.

French girl on a bicycle and not at all shy

Purely coincidentally, a couple of records after the Humber, was a poster featuring a Continental tyre. Continental were (and still are to some extent) very big in bicycle tyre development and invention. They are a massive company and the record I’ve started will take quite a lot more work to complete. Needless to say, their car tyre business is somewhat larger and more what they’re known for. Though they are quite proud of the fact that in 1900 they made the seals for the gas bag of the world’s first airship.

These two companies started at about the same time (albeit one in England and the other in Germany) but I have no idea whether their paths crossed. Rubber being a rapidly changing industry as well as bicycling, they very well may have.

I also researched three Scottish artists…I only mention this because I might get one each week but multiple Scottish artists is a rarity for me.

At lunchtime I took a wander around the first floor among the clocks and compasses, picking out possible blips. There were a lot of kids there today. I think teachers decide Friday is a good day to take the little ones to the Science Museum. I wish they’d asked me.

I quite like the fact that they suspend huge things from the ceiling. Here’s an example. I’m not sure what type of plane it is but it sure looks like it’s about to hit that security guard. On the other hand, he doesn’t look the least bit fazed.

Plane about to land in the Science Museum

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And as I left work I received a phone call from Nicktor – this is quite rare as we generally text or email. He was offered and has taken the new job! I shall now refer to him as the HR King. All hail Nicktor, the HR King.

Today I had to research some pretty bizarre things – Wookey Hole springs to mind instantly – one of which was the Queen’s Tower outside Imperial College.

This felt weird because whenever I looked at a piece of information I suffered the most powerful feeling of deja vu. I had already searched the MIMSY database, looking for an entry but there’s no Queen’s Tower anywhere. It was extremely odd and disconcerting.

Then, on the Tube, it struck me…I’d already researched it for this blog! Of course I used the same sources. Anyway, my version for the blog is here. My version for MIMSY, you can’t see but, apart from the format, it pretty much includes the same stuff.

At lunch time I popped up to the fifth floor – my favourite – for a poke around the medical paraphernalia. I came across this, which had me quite intrigued. Let’s see if you can figure out what it is – I’ll tell you at the end of this post.

From the Science Museum

It’s amazing that every time I go up to the fifth floor (and I think I’ve been up there about five times now) I manage to find something new. And it’s not just the thing above. I’d also missed the massive, full size birthing chair with the size 18 feet.

German birthing chair, favoured by midwives everywhere

Also called a parturition chair, they allowed a woman to give birth while sitting up. The wooden seat was removable and the feet were for her feet (obviously). They were quite prized items and would be handed down through a family. According to the card beside this beauty in the display case, even male midwives loved them. They just made life an awful lot easier for the people delivering the baby.

And then I spotted the eye models. These were made for teaching and were anatomically correct. It was a bit impossible to get a good enough photograph of most of them but then I spotted this one. What a little beauty.

You lookin' at me?

So I studied and researched and learned more than I needed to know about such diverse things as who used the world’s first ATM (it was Reg Varney from On The Buses…go figure) and how much the newest Witch of Wookey Hole is paid per year (£50,000 and all the spells she can cast), until it was time to leave for home.

Mirinda had been in Cambridge for a conference and I wasn’t sure that we’d meet for the usual train but, hurrah, we did. She was on a train from Euston as I approached from South Ken in a train. We met in the first carriage of the train home.

And what is that up there? Why, its George Washington’s denture, of course! It was made by John Greenwood who was George’s dentist. Apparently, Washington suffered from really, really bad teeth and had lost every single one of his own by 1796. Mind you, he only had another 3 years to live so I guess it wasn’t that bad…though it may explain why he chopped down the cherry tree. You accidentally bite down on a cherry pip and you’d know it if most of your teeth had gone and the rest were just waiting for the opportunity to escape.

So, I was quite tired this morning on the train to work and, after Woking, realising I had a double seat to myself, I decided to have a snooze for the rest of the journey. I quite often do this. Apart from the fact that I can’t read for very long in the mornings without my eyes closing, it’s clearly a genetic trait I picked up from my father.

Dad had the uncanny knack (with one huge exception) for waking up at his stop either way. I used to catch the train to work with him and he’d no sooner sit down than he was asleep. I think he was dropping off on the way down. I’m not that good but I have no problem sleeping on the train in the mornings and, since it terminates at Waterloo, I never sleep through my stop.

This morning I was well away, dreaming of a world where fairies and pixies exist when I suddenly ripped from such pleasant musings by the very loud strains of the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm. And when I say loud, it was pretty close to deafening.

I didn’t have time to be angry (it was my phone, after all) and made a grab for my top pocket to retrieve the phone. I don’t know about you but when I wake up suddenly, dexterity tends to make a belated entrance. I fumbled with the phone, trying to open the case (of course, each step I take makes the phone ring louder and the tune to start filling the carriage) mortified in case there was someone like me sitting near.

The thing with my phone is, in order to answer a call, I have to slide the green bar across the surface of the screen (I can hang up by sliding the red one in the opposite direction). Normally this is fine but not when I’ve just had my snooze shattered. I tried everything but all that happened was new screen came up over the top of the answer the phone one. This just meant my ability to answer the call was even more diminished.

Eventually I hit something which hung it up and the carriage was once more silent. The first thing I did was put it on silent. This is something I generally do every time I get on a train and I never get a call. I guess if I want a call, I should leave it on normal.

After a couple of minutes a message icon popped up saying I had a new message. It was a BT engineer telling me I was booked in for a visit on Monday. No time, nothing but that. Oh, and he said goodbye.

This started me thinking. I had assumed that when our Internet connection was restored last night that BT had figured out what they had broken and quickly fixed it, too embarrassed to call me straight away. Clearly this was not the case and the engineer had been ordered very quickly. Perhaps this was after my last tussle with them. I can see the screen now “If this guy rings, escalate him and send out an engineer – it’s not worth the hassle.” If this is the case, and I sincerely hope so, I might just stay with BT.

I thought about ringing back but it’s just too difficult without certain bits of paper in order to prove you are who you claim to be so I figured I’d leave it till tomorrow.

At work I enlarged quite a few records in the oil paintings group finding out more than I needed to about the Venezuelan national airline and Dr Ian Moore who would often “…dash off for a spot of fishing even in his advanced years.” My job is so diverse. That’s just one of the reasons why I love it.

In the afternoon I missed another BT call (the phone was still on silent) but couldn’t make head nor tail of it. It appeared to be someone apologising to me for not getting back to me but unfortunately nothing could be done and I should call them. It made no sense. I’m not sure why they bother leaving messages completely lacking in any form of intelligible communication. It wasn’t a language thing either. It just didn’t make any sense.

I can only wonder at how many messages there are waiting for me to get home.

Today was my first day back at the Science Museum after a month. And quite a few things have changed. Actually, if I was to avoid any exaggeration, two things have changed.

Firstly Exhibition Road. The pedestrianization has progressed to the front of the Science Museum, cutting off the Director’s Entrance and causing mayhem with the general entrance/exit to the museum for visitors. Fortunately I only use the group entrance which is unaffected. Although I do now need to cross Exhibition Road to the V&A before crossing back because of the single lane of traffic, driving a slalom between the witches’ hats. In fact Barbara almost came a cropper there this morning, running into an immovable pedestrian as a wing mirror attempted to maim her.

The second change, which has a lot more impact on me is the new caterers. For some reason the Science Museum has decided to switch to a new lot (money, presumably) and they have changed things about, including staff by the look of things.

Ostensibly, it all looks the same but on closer examination, and when you’ve visited as many times as I have, the changes are immediately apparent. The baguettes are better and the coffee is situated in a much better place. It’s also prepared by a human rather than a machine and therefore tastes a lot more like a coffee based beverage and less like something that needs a pound of sugar to make it even approach palatable. It even comes in a china mug!

After a delightful lunch (it wasn’t too crowded) I popped up to inspect the shipping gallery. They have an amazing collection of model ships. I’m thinking the Maritime Museum has more but this would have to go a close second.

They have a wonderful model of the SS Great Britain, which we visited in Bristol (here). I took a few photos, attempting to replicate images from the real one.

The SS Great Britain at the Science Museum

OK, it’s not nearly so impressive inside a glass display case. I can see that.

The other night I watched a TV programme about the saving of the canals in the early and mid 20th century. It was a great (if somewhat anoraky) piece, showing home movies of people who were witness to the state of decay the canals had sunk to as well as the restoration. Of course it featured quite a few painted barges.

As the cost of transporting cargo became unsustainable, most of these boats were crewed by the man who owned it and his wife (with any kids resulting from the close quarters living, helping). The barges became their homes as well as their livelihood. They worked as an efficient team and in most cases, never left the river for any great amount of time.

One man told how, as a child, the barge would pull in at a particular town and his father would tell him to jump ashore and get off to school. He’d only be there an hour and it was time to leave as the boat had finished loading/offloading and had to set off again. As he said, he didn’t learn anything from school.

You might be wondering what the connection is between this programme on British canals and my day in the Science Museum. Well, here it is:

The How a Lock Works display at the Science Museum

It shows how a lock works by using a narrow boat, a lock keeper, his wife and the couple on the boat. This is the back section (clearly).

Anyway, after wandering the display cases of boats and more boats (no gondolas though) I returned to work, researching a few chaps and learning about the stocking knitting machine, invented in the late 1500s by a guy who has slipped out of history as if he was never there and the guy who subsequently invented an attachment that went on the front of it in order to make ribbed stockings, who is not only remembered for it but is very famous for designing a few bridges across the Thames as well.

Nick was full of praise for my work and I left work with a bigger head than I arrived with.

Sometimes a couple of enthusiasts turn up and start up the big red steam engine at the Science Museum. It’s usually around lunchtime. Generally when I’m there they stop it just as I finish lunch and all I see is it slowing down. But not today! Call me a bit of a dag but I really love this big red steam engine. So much so that I videoed it and posted it for your delectation.

After standing around gawping with the rest of the blokes, I set off up to level three for this week’s foray into the galleries. This week it was computing. But don’t worry. I’m not going to bore you with a lot of nerdy computer stuff. To be fair, I think I’ve already gone on about the Pegasus. So, when it came to grabbing a photo, I decided on this chap.

William Symington (1763-1831)

This is William Symington and he built the first practical steamboat. While his initial design and test boat were equally heralded with success and failure (differing reports of the same event for some reason), his full sized boat was ordered and then tested on the Clyde. It went well at first but when they started to build up steam, the big wheels started to break up, threatening to leave it dead in the water.

Back at the drawing board, Symington, not one to give up, had another go. This time things went a lot better. He guaranteed himself a place in not only the history books but also my blog. What a guy.

This evening, Mirinda & I were sitting on the 5pm train (along with a few others) and it pulled into Clapham Junction. This isn’t unusual; it is scheduled to do this. What was unusual was the station guy running up and down the platform yelling at people, telling them ours was the last train and they’d better get on it. He was yelling very loudly, almost pushing passengers into our carriage. If they even looked like they were going to answer him back, he told them they’d have to change at Woking because “…THIS is the last train!”

Mirinda started to get uneasy, wondering what he meant, thinking, maybe, we shouldn’t be on the train because something had happened. I explained to her that if the guy was correct and this WAS the last train, we wanted to be on it. She didn’t look entirely convinced by my unassailable logic but tried to relax anyway and continued telling me about…well, it’s a secret but suffice to say, she continued talking about work.

The train ran perfectly fine, all the way home, without a hiccough or minor delay. There was nothing to indicate why our train was the last one. Or to where. All very strange. Other than this, there was nothing else particularly strange about my day.

I went to work and researched two very interesting chaps (one a chemist, the other the engineer who invented mauve) and a few diabolical companies that took some serious digging. And at lunchtime I popped up to the first floor.

I have decided to explore the museum in my lunch times – after eating of course. Today I decided to look at the time gallery. In order to get there, I had to pass through the section on agriculture. I’m not that big on agriculture but I do like big engines and the tractors were really something. However, the best thing was the models. It was like ‘It’s a Small World After All‘ but with farm machinery rather than weird, scary looking dolls. I wanted to take one home with me. In fact, I wanted to take THIS one home with me.

Martin's Cultivator

This little bad boy was patented in 1828. It was streets ahead of the competition because of the tines. They were the end points of big springs. This gave the thing a bit of freedom rather than being rigid – that was SO last year. This made life a whole lot easier down on the farm. They were nicely adjustable as well so the depth could be controlled. The big red levers are for lifting them clear of the ground when turning. What a guy Martin clearly was.

Just to prove he wasn’t a one trick pony, in the 1920′s his company built a fire engine. Anyone near the Somerset Rural Life Museum can actually go and see one of Martin’s cultivators, full size and in the flesh (so to speak). The barest of information about the museum is here.

But enough of Martin and his cultivator…as a follow up to the photo I posted on Wednesday showing the milko, here’s how they do it these days.

Milk delivery in 2011

Not only is the thing electric but it has two people to work it! Sometimes people just have no idea how good they have it.

Today I went back to the Science Museum, the skylight being finished. Except it isn’t. Really. Apparently someone forgot to order the automatic window opening thing (or something like that) so the contractors have to return to make them openable. According to Nick, the glass is extra, super dooper, toughened so someone falling onto them, won’t break it, just go splat. Very reassuring. The old one looked like someone had already fallen through it.

I took a photograph but the sun decided to come out and ruin it. I shall try again next week.

It has made a massive difference to the office. It’s a lot brighter for one thing. Also, because they had to clear everything out that was beneath the skylight, they put it all back very neatly. The office looked newer than it could ever possibly have looked. Almost pleasant.

What wasn’t pleasant was Barbara’s persistently aggravating cough. I know she can’t help it but I was ready to scream by 4pm. Every 30 seconds, at least, she’d cough. But not a good, solid, full-bodied, phlegm filled beauty of a cough. Oh no. A hacking, scrappy, asbestos stripping series of loud outbursts. It seriously was driving me insane. Ignoring that, it was a lovely day.

But it wasn’t just the continual referencing that was so enjoyable. After my usual lunch upstairs, I wandered over to the new James Watt area of the main entrance. Fantastic, is the only world I can think of to describe it. Actually, that’s not exactly true. I think I’ll use a few more words to describe it.

Don’t know James Watt? Well, here’s three of him, just to start things off.

Three busts of James Watt - the steam guy

He was the guy with the steam. As a youth he sat and watched a kettle boil as his disapproving aunt shook her head at his lallygagging. It was his eureka moment but all she wanted to know was when would he clean up his room. But he persisted and from this humble start came (according to the Science Museum) the man who invented the Industrial Revolution. Apparently. We’ll just ignore Newcomen.

Regardless of that, though I realise people need a heroic figure to hang their banner from, he was brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that he was very, very messy. Clearly he didn’t listen to his aunt. How do I know that? Well, his actual workshop has been reassembled in the Science Museum. Every single last bit of it. And there’s a lot.

I hadn’t realised before that he actually developed the concept of horse power. Also, he wasn’t very good in business. Then he met Matthew Boulton and they were both set for life. The new Watt section of the museum also has a lot of stuff about Boulton.

Here’s the redesigned part of the Energy Hall. The box-like structure at the end, with the red on it, is his workshop.

What? James...what?

So they’re replacing the ceiling at work, in the basement. The one that leaks whenever it rains. They’re starting next Wednesday with moving everything out of the way, putting up hoardings and scaffolding it all up. Both sides of the office. Because of this, we (the volunteers) received an email today advising us…actually, telling us, to take a holiday for a month. There’ll be nowhere for us to work after all.

So, Monday will be my last museum day for a month (sad, I know) and I shall have to concentrate on jobs that need doing around the house.

Today I had to try and find something about an agricultural machine that ran on steam and was called a clover seed drawer. I wasn’t very successful. Apparently it was either

1. a seed drill like the one that Jethro Tull invented and which popped seeds into the ground automatically; OR
2. a big old shaky machine that separated the good seeds from the bad seeds, before they were loaded into a machine like the one that Jethro Tull invented and…etc, etc.

I did find out that a Robert Hunt from Essex, had an award winning one in 1853 which he was selling all over southern Britain. Sadly I did not find out what it actually did or who invented it. The record I was researching had no image, so I couldn’t even get a hint. Anyway, it was a pain and totally not fruitful.

Back to the catalogue cards on Monday and then…a void.

By the way, Carmen is showing no ill effects and continues to…do exactly what she does every day.