I remember Richard Basehart

I had a couple of People records to complete first thing this morning. For one I was waiting for an email but the other I just completely missed last week. It’s beyond me how I did that. As I explained to Nick, I was so engrossed in researching the potash mines that the artist, Len Tabner was simply forgotten.

I had a lovely informative email in my inbox from a chap who used to be the vice chairman of the Ellenroad Spinning Mill Trust, giving me some terrific details. These two records took me about half an hour and then I was back to updating the Prime catalogue of records; slowly working my way through the 900+ pages of old pre-MIMSY records.

I can’t remember how long ago I last looked at this massive document but it took me a little while to actually understand it. And then I realised that my days of quick, easy researching had ended. The PRIME records are sparse; the MIMSY imported versions even worse. Still, it’s better than updating thousands of nipple shield records.

The highlight of the day was discovering the joys of submarines. The Science Museum holds a load of blueprints dating back to the 1800s of submarines. They are drawings for the ones designed by the Swedish submarine king Thorvald Nordenfelt.

Apparently, the first mention of something that could be a submarine dates back to 1580. Milliam Bourne, a pub landlord spoke about a boat that could work underwater. It all sounds like a bloke standing at the bar spouting forth to his mates about the possibility of underwater boating. I do that sort of thing all the time when I’m drunk. I don’t see they’d have been any different in the 16th century.

I also read about the submarine that the Greek navy purchased in order to use against the Turks. They weren’t happy about that (the Turks) so they bought the next model up from the one the Greeks bought. The thing is, the Greeks never used theirs and the Turkish submarine had a test run of the torpedoes which ended up with the submarine upending and sinking to bottom. Chalk that one up to capitalism. I rather like the idea that the two opposing navies bought their submarines from the same company. I should mention that this happened in 1886.

As I read copious reams of submarine related material, the sky decided to chuck prodigious amounts of rain onto the basement skylight. I’m happy to report that it works an awful lot better than the old one. Actually, the old one leaked and the new one doesn’t and that’s more than an improvement if you ask me.

Coincidentally, the time was also approaching lunch and Ailsa wished me well as I ventured forth. I was tempted to stay in the museum but, as I was climbing the stairs to street level, the sun came out and the rain stopped. I decided to visit the V&A.

My first stop was the Indian statues. I wanted to find out what the story was regarding Krishna and the magic wishing tree as I mentioned it in last Friday’s post.

Krishna and the magic wishing tree

The story is quite mad. Apparently Krishna and Satyabhama were on some sacred mission to return some stolen earrings when Satyabhama spotted this amazing tree (the parijata) that grew in heaven and belonged to Indra. Satyabhama asked Krishna to nick it, the idea being to replant it at their place in Dwarka. Naturally, Indra wasn’t happy and so he and Krishna started to mix it up a bit. Krishna won but Satyabhama told him to leave the tree, that she was only trying to upset Indra’s wife Sachi. I mean, what the hell is that about?

To be completely honest, I reckon it looks like Adam and Eve and the tree of knowledge.

I then spotted a wonderful display of Japanese netsuke. We love these tiny bone sculptures. They are so impossibly intricate and yet so small.

Kintoki & Yamauba

This one represents Kintoki and his foster mother Yamauba. Kintoki was a super child, raised in the mountains and many believed he was raised by a mountain ogress (they sort of hang around and eat human beings) which is who (or what) Yamauba is.

Agh, rats!

And this one is amusingly titled Thwarted Ratcatcher. Clearly he’s not very good.

I could have stood looking at them for ages but the other visitors to the museum were getting a bit impatient behind me so I continued on to the silver gallery where I walked passed Karen’s little office, saddened that she wasn’t there, before turning round and going back to work. And more submarines. And Barbara’s crisps.

I had a number of texts from Mirinda who has been suffering with an upset tummy all day. Wishing to escape the crunching noises, I went up the stairwell to ring her. This is where everyone goes to make personal calls, which is seriously weird because it’s just a giant echo chamber.

Anyway, I suggested to Mirinda that she should have a teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda in a glass of water. She thought I was joking. She bought some goopy stuff instead, which contained…bicarbonate of soda. She may stay in the flat tonight if she doesn’t improve. Apart from how she feels, it might be wise given the weather.

An interesting note…I just read the post for 26 August last year and it rained then as well.

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How do people read and listen to music at the same time? It’s not a trick I’ve mastered but I see people on the train doing it all the time. Perhaps they’re listening to classical music. I’ll probably never find out. For my part, I end up being transported by the music and completely forget I’m reading. Usually after reading the same page about eight times. Then I turn the music off or close the book.