Mirinda and I share a few traits, as you do when you’ve been married as long as we have. One of those traits is how we read different books in different rooms of the house. There are books scattered all over the house for just this purpose. For instance, these are in the downstairs loo:
Likewise, by the bed, there are also piles of books.
I generally like to read a few paragraphs before going to sleep and, given my love of all things maritime, I am usually reading something about a shipwreck or shipbuilder. Mirinda, on the other hand, normally reads an Agatha Christie for the umpteenth time or something about gardening.
A few years ago, Mirinda bought me a little book which I have only just started reading. The beauty of this book is that it’s perfect for bedtime because it’s various short pieces which I can manage to stay awake for.
Okay, I might skip the poetry but the short pieces about Surrey are fascinating. They come from all over and from all times. And, so far anyway, they are nice and happy.
Take for instance the story of hop picking, taken from the Athenaeum in 1807.
The writer (unnamed) and two of his friends, travel out to Farnham during the season. At the time, Farnham was completely surrounded by hops; it was a hop town with scores of pubs and at least one brewery. To read the story, you’d think it was all lovely and fun where brightly dressed young girls flittered between the poles, taking great baskets of hops from the men who happily plucked the heads from the plants. In the words of the writer:
“The best drest [sic] girls were seated in the front, singing in full chorus; and the whole cavalcade had an air of festivity not usual among English peasantry.“
Of course, it reads like a bunch of toffs going out to watch the peasants in order to amuse the ‘intellectual’ readership of an exclusive magazine however, the whole thing sounds like it was great fun. Except, it probably wasn’t.
My dad, who worked from the age of eight, had to spend his school holidays hop picking in Kent. He described it as hot, dirty, sticky, backbreaking work which he thoroughly hated. There was no talk of ‘best drest girls’ or, in fact, much singing. It was not a festive occasion. It was hard work for a pittance which, of course, dad didn’t get to keep. It was his ‘offering’ to the family coffers.
I guess it may have been different in Surrey at the beginning of the 19th century but I can’t see it. Hops is hops, after all. Still, it made me chuckle before falling asleep. But then I didn’t have to go hop picking on school holidays.
Speaking of holidays, today I decided to move my podcasts. They are from our time in Sweden. I’ve been paying monthly for the recordings to be hosted online but, given no-one has listened to any of them since July 2021, I figured I needn’t pay any more.
Instead, I have put them under a page on this blog. It’s here, if anyone is interested. I need to pretty the page up a bit but at least the recordings still exist.
But, returning to the hop picking piece for a moment. The book states that it comes from the Athenaeum of 1807 when the Athenaeum magazine didn’t start publication until 1824. The Athenaeum Club didn’t begin until 1824 either.
In saying that, I have found the first magazine, dated 1807, online. It can be read here. Maybe there were two magazines that had the same name but ran at different times. Very confusing.
