The Idler, Thursday, April 22, 2010

The great pick-up

 

THE ROYAL Navy goes to Spain to pick up British holidaymakers stranded by the closure of air space due to volcanic ash in the atmosphere from Iceland. Other British warships stand by to make similar pick-ups elsewhere in Europe. This is unprecedented.

 

English football clubs make long and arduous trips by coach and ferry to play fixtures in Europe.

 

Is it not time for a bit of forward planning? That volcano keeps on rumbling and spitting ash. It could go on for months, the vulcanologists say. Any moment its mean big brother could kick into action, the way it has in the distant past, causing still more disruption of air travel.

 

I'm not suggesting the RN should supply an aircraft carrier to take the European teams to the Football World Cup. But would it not be an idea for FIFA to provisionally charter a liner? Perhaps charter a few liners so that fans can be transported as well as the teams, should Europe continue to be closed for air travel?

 

This is not to be unduly alarmist, just realistic. A fortnight ago, could anyone have imagined European air space being closed? Warships being dispatched to pick up stranded holidaymakers?

 

The vulcanologists say the eruptions could last another six months or more. The World Cup starts in just over a month. What kind of World Cup would it be without England, France, Germany and the other European sides?

 

When the great Football Armada happens, remember where you read it first!

 

 

Sprightly centenarian

 

A VERY special birthday party was held at Howick a few days ago when retired schoolmistress Dora Webb celebrated her 100th. Scores of family and friends gathered for a tea party, including her daughter Mary who teaches in Nigeria.

 

Dora Webb (nee Jackson) was born in Durban on April 17, 1910, one of the few people living in KwaZulu-Natal (if not the only one) to have also lived in the old Colony of Natal. But her memories of that era are probably a little hazy as, a little over a month afterwards, Natal became a province of the Union of South Africa.

 

Dora was the daughter of Percy Jackson, one of the Jackson Brothers of the music shop of that name in West Street. Music has always been a big part of her life.

 

She went to Durban Girls' College and has a vivid memory of when she was eight years old. They were having a lesson outside under the trees in November when a girl came from the school and handed a note to the headmistress, who then picked up her skirts and ran for the main school.

 

The lasting impression was not so much the contents of the note – that World War I had ended – as seeing her headmistress actually running.

 

Dora went on to teach at Durban Prep, Gordon Road Girls' and Durban Girls' High.

 

Her birthday party was held in perfect Midlands weather and a high point was a piano recital by award-winning Christopher Duigan. A bonus is that Mary has an extra week's holiday with her mother because her school in Nigeria has delayed opening for a week because most of the pupils – the children of expatriate oil workers – are held up in Britain because of the closure of air space.

 

 

 

Rollin' along

 

READER discussion of that 1948 cricket Test against England at Kingsmead is getting like Old Man River – it jest keeps rollin' along.

 

Alan Parsons was at the match and says his guess is that eloquent commentator John Arlott coined the phrase "Cometh the hour,  cometh the man" – though it is possible he picked it up from Cliff Gladwin. But it sounds more like Arlott than Gladwin.

 

Douglas Baillie listened on the radio and recalls Arlott saying of Gladwin, as the last ball of the Test was bowled: "He has to run! He has to run!"

 

Yes, he jest keeps rollin' along …

 

Tailpiece

 

THE LADY of the house decides on a milk bath to enhance her looks. She places an order for 300 litres. The milkman rings the doorbell to query this.

 

"Do you mean three litres?"

 

"No, 300 litres. I want to fill the bath with milk.'

 

"Pasteurised?"

 

"No, just up to my boobs."

 

Last word

 

Everything you can imagine is real.

Pablo Picasso

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Battle of St Ives

PIRACY showed its ugly visage in Durban harbour the other day and the Jolly Roger flew from several craft as they exchanged hostilities in the St Ives channel and elsewhere. Weapon of preference was the water cannon, a sort of pump that shoots a projectile of water, drenching the opposing crew.

Hostilities later moved ashore and individuals in the traditional black eyepatches and headscarves were to be seen scuffling, throwing mud pies and generally misbehaving in the locality of Point Yacht Club.

Alcohol is thought to have been an aggravating factor.

It was, of course, the NSRI Barrel Race, a major fundraiser for the National Sea Rescue Institute, which does so much to rescue craft in distress off our coast and operates entirely on private sector financial support and with voluntary boat crews.

The organisers afterwards described the support this year as better than ever. They were still counting the cash, they said, and were confident of breaking all records.

Late in the evening, a Mexican wave swept Charlie's Bar at PYC. Only eight people were still there by that stage, but it was impressive all the same.

Get rid of stress

STRESS is the scourge of modern society. Reader John Knottenbelt shares a formulation which he says has been received with enthusiasm by all his friends and business associates. Here goes:

A lecturer explaining stress management raised a glass of water and asked: "'How heavy is this?"

Answers ranged from 20g to 500g.

He replied: "The absolute weight doesn't matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.

"In each case it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.

"And that's the way it is with stress management. If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won't be able to carry on.

"As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.

"So before you return home tonight, put down the burden of work. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can.

"So put down anything that may be a burden to you right now. Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while."

To this are added some ways of dealing with the burdens of life:

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon and some days you're the statue.

* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

* Always wear stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* If you lend someone R20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

 * It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to be kind to others.

 * Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time because you won't have a leg to stand on.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

* Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.

* The second mouse gets the cheese.

* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

 * You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.

* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

* A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.


Tailpiece

A STREAKER runs through a golf club with a towel over his face. He passes a group of woman members.

"At least it's not my husband," says one.

"No, it's not," says another.

"He's not even a member of the club," says a third.

 

Last word

 

A musicologist is a man who can read music but can't hear it.

Sir Thomas Beecham

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Tuesday, Monday 20, 2010

A turning point?

IS THE age of sea travel about to return? Will the lavender-hulled mailships of the Union Castle line again grace Durban harbour twice a week? Will sports teams touring to East London, Port Elizabeth and Cape Town again have the fun option of going by sea? Will youngsters taking their gap year again kick it off with a riotous three-week sea voyage to Southampton?

The volcanic eruptions in Iceland suddenly raise huge question marks against air travel. What happens if the dust clouds of volcanic ash continue to hang over Europe for weeks and months to come, closing down air space? Can the airlines financially sustain such a shut-down? What about the mails and airfreight, quite apart from the human cargoes?

Vulcanologists says it's anyone's guess how long the eruptions will continue. They worry that a second far larger volcano might kick in, the way it always has in the past. When that last happened there was no international aviation industry to worry about, clouds of volcanic ash were not much of an issue. Not so today.

Air transport has totally eclipsed the sea in passenger and small freight traffic such as the mails. Has nature forced a change? Is nature telling us to slow down a bit, wag 'n bietjie?

It will be interesting to see how our modern economies and transport systems cope with this wholly unexpected intervention by nature.

 

Clouds over Europe

MEANWHILE, the eruptions in Iceland continue to pour out over the rest of Europe clouds of strange and unintelligible verbiage. The present eruption is under the Eyjafjallajokull glacier, and there is no end in sight, says geologist Magnus Tumi Gudmundsson.

Just watch what happens if Mount Katla blows, says his colleague, Pall Einarsson. It comes out through the Myrdasjokull icecap.

Eyjafjallajokull, Myrdasjokull. We have here a threat to international telecommunications. Volcanic ash seemed bad enough!

Taxi marathon

BRITISH comedy actor John Cleese was stranded in Norway by the air space shut-down and spent 3 300 pounds (R34 000) getting back to England in a taxi, via Brussels. Three drivers took spells at the wheel for 15 hours.

Once in Brussels he would presumably have caught the train to Hook of Holland and taken a ferry to Harwich or Folkestone.

But what was he thinking of? There are dozens of overnight ferries from Scandinavia to England. Perhaps Cleese slipped unconsciously into his Basil Fawlty role.

 

Jy lieg!

THOSE overnight ferries can be great fun. Live band, dance floor, rough weather and you and the girl you're dancing with suddenly go sliding.

Once I was on a Swedish ferry that was bouncing about like a cork in the North Sea. A friend and I ventured out on deck, where we watched the mountainous waves. Then we were confronted by a huge fellow (who turned out to be the bosun) who bellowed at us in Swedish in a very unfriendly way. (It seemed the PA system had warned that passengers weren't allowed on deck - but we couldn't understand).

"Sorry, we don't understand."

"Ah! Englanders?"

"South African."

"South African? Jy lieg, jou donder!"

Yes, he was from Cape Town. He took us below for a dop in his cabin. He hadn't been back in about 20 years – some difficulty about a paternity suit – and had to all intents and purposes become a Swede. A terrific fellow.

You just don't get this kind of thing with air travel.

Veldskoen Castle

DOES anyone have a photograph of the Veldskoen Castle?

This was the floating restaurant moored near Salisbury Island in Durban harbour in the 1950s. It started out as the ticket office and passport control point for the BOAC flying boat service to Britain, which took several days. The flying boats would land on various lakes and the River Nile on the way, passengers overnighting at exotic luxury hotels.

The ticket office/passport control moved to a shore base at the Bayhead and the restaurant opened with the name Veldskoen Castle, diners being brought to it by the Sarie Marais pleasure boat (which still exists).

Mike Laing, of the Military History Society, needs a photograph for a book on the flying boats. He can be contacted at 031-2051951

Tailpiece

The Idler, Monday, April 19, 2010

Wife-swapping party

THE BRITISH general election goes from the banal to the faintly obscene. The party leaders' wives have been brought out like show ponies. Now a survey has asked women if they would prefer to have an affair with Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Tory leader David Cameron or Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg. It's asked the men if they would prefer a fling with Mrs Brown, Mrs Cameron or Mrs Clegg.

The Camerons come out tops. Most women said they would prefer to be bedded by David (Brown scored only seven percent) and most men opted for Samantha Cameron (They might get some strange knocks on the door if they make it to No 10). The survey is gleefully reported on TV.

Is this not pitiful? Are these the people who saw off the Nazis?

If Britain is the cradle of modern democracy, are we approaching that point described by Plato where democracy becomes mob rule?

It's high time the Duke of Edinburgh staged a coup d'etat.

 

Neighbourly help

READER Eric Hodgson describes how the son of his next door neighbour helped him with his computer.

"I was having trouble with my computer. So I called Colin, the 11-year-old next door, whose bedroom looks like Mission Control, and asked him to come over.

"Colin clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem.

"As he was walking away, I called after him: 'So, what was wrong?' He replied: 'It was an ID ten T error.'

"I didn't want to appear stupid, but nonetheless inquired: 'An ID ten T error? What's that? In case I need to fix it again.'

"Colin grinned. 'Haven't you ever heard of an ID ten T error before?'

"'No,' I replied.

"'Write it down,' he said, 'and I think you'll figure it out.'

"So I wrote it down:'ID10T'.

"I used to like Colin, the little bastard!"

Yes, children can be very unkind.

 

That Test again

MEMORIES of the 1948 cricket Test at Kingsmead continue to roll in

Yes, Gladwin, England's No 10, scored the winning run (a leg-bye off his thigh) off the last ball, says Michael Green retired editor of our sister newspaper, the Daily News. He confirms also that as he strode to the wicket he said in his broad Derbyshire accent: "Coometh the hour, coometh the man".

Michael Cottrell and his family went through agonies of suspense after watching the Test then having to leave on the final day to take the train to Lesotho (then called Basutoland).

 

Nobody on the train all day could tell them about the progress of the match. They arrived in Maseru in time to hear the broadcast of the final overs.

 

"The radio broadcast of that last over was suddenly cut for the BBC news which at that time was broadcast at 6pm on the SABC. We never heard the end result in the BBC news and it was only when this was completed that we heard about the exciting result (not so exciting for South Africa)."

 

Why is this Test of 62 years ago fixed so firmly in the memory of so many people? This was a topic of discussion in a local hostelry the other evening. The barmaid quoted her elderly dad (who was at the match and has been avidly following people's recollections) saying he had just been demobbed from the army after service in World War II.

People were in a bit of a daze. They couldn't quite believe the war was over. Then suddenly there was a cricket Test against England. This was real, the war was over. It was a huge event and they sat there and watched every ball.

 

Aussie origins

 

RECENT discussion of Australian accents and origins reminds reader David Tilling of the visit by British actor Robert Morley to Australia in the early 1970s. He met the prime minister, Gough Whitlam, who asked if he thought all Australians were descended from convicts.

 

The ever humorous Morley replied that some of them must be descended from the warders.

 

Tailpiece

THIS fellow is in a major custody battle. His wife doesn't want him and his mother won't take him back.

Last word

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.

 

David Russell

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

Captain Cook, Friday, April 16

A STRANGE mood of defiance has taken hold in our rugby. It reminds me of the period when Natal were relegated to the B Section of the Currie Cup all those years ago, and we fought our way out of it and very nearly lifted the cup before the administrators came to their senses and rejigged the whole competition. It was an exhilarating phase because the team - and the fans - knew what we were capable of and from a situation of sheer hopelessness it paid off.

In this year's Super 14 we played out a comedy of errors in the first few matches, picking up bonus points when we should have had full points, aided and abetted by some villainous refereeing in Australia. We relegated ourselves to a situation of hopelessness. Knowledgeable people did not give us a chance Down Under.

But then we picked ourselves up in what should have been the toughest and most exhausting part of the tour – New Zealand – and came back exhausted and jetlagged to put together a patchy, though at times close to brilliant, performance (especially by the forwards) to hold out Queensland and again take full points.

That puts us theoretically within range of a semi-final spot – if all kinds of other contingencies come into play as well – but the main thing is that the focus now is on all-out attack. Maximum points has to be the target for each remaining match.

If the side clicks at last – starts firing on all cylinders as it has not so far this season – we could be in for some spectacular rugby, whether or not we make it to the semis.

We've nothing to lose. It starts tomorrow against our tradititional foes (the Lions in Super 14 parlance, Transvaal for those of us who have rugby tradition ingrained) and it should be an enthralling spectacle. The Vaalies have been having a season even more miserable than ourselves, but never underestimate them. A Natal-Transvaal encounter rouses an atavistic something extra out of both sides. They too have nothing to lose. They too have to click some time and we have to make sure it's not tomorrow.

Much hinges on Andy Goode at flyhalf. Pitchforked into the Super 14 from northern hemisphere club rugby, he shows signs of settling in well. The line moved against Queensland in a way to suggest our guys have rediscovered an enthusiasm to run with the ball. We must keep it in hand, avoid kicking away possession.

Goode is by all accounts enjoying being with the Sharks and enjoying being in Durban. He'll enjoy it all the more if he can get them to spark into life tomorrow. We'll buy him a pint of crème de menthe in the  Boutique Bar. That's rocket fuel!

I've a feeling the season is going to end on a high note, whether or not we get to the semis. One game at a time. All-out attack. Take-off tomorrow. Tora! Tora! Tora! as the Japanese used to say.

One game at a time. Forget the log, forget the semis, this is an epic, Natal versus Transvaal. See you in the Bootleggers, where they've got the blonde with the gypsy fiddle. Let it roll!

The Idler, Friday, April 16, 2010

The Barrel Race

IT'S THE National Sea Rescue Institute Barrel Race at Point Yacht Club on Sunday. That's when they get into barrels that have been cut in half and paddle across the bay, led by the commodores of Point, Royal Natal Yacht Club and Bluff Yacht Club. It's a hoot.

No, I exaggerate. They don't put to sea in barrels, they do all kinds of things just about as silly. The yachties have a round the harbour race, open to everything from keelers to the smallest dinghy. The power boats have a kind of treasure hunt across the harbour, based on cryptic clues.

The actual barrel is in the PYC dining room, and from it tickets are pulled for literally hundreds of prizes. Items are auctioned. Master of Ceremonies Rob Main Bailie goes into orbit. And quite a lot of beer is quaffed. It's still a hoot.

The theme this year is "Shipwreck" and I'm told the Playhouse has been involved in providing the décor.

It puzzles me slightly because I was at the Barrel Race last year and seldom have I seen so many sailing folk completely wrecked. What's different?

As I recorded in this column, at one stage I had a statuesque blonde and her midget schoolfriend – they hadn't met in 15 years – sobbing on my shoulders because they were so happy. I wonder if they'll be there again.

The Barrel Race is a major fund-raiser for the NSRI which puts to sea in the filthiest weather to rescue craft in distress (it sometimes even rescues bathers swept out to sea). It is manned by unpaid volunteers and funded by private sector donations.

The Barrel Race is great fun in a great cause.

Timeless Test

THE 1948 cricket Test against England at Kingsmead still resonates. It's astonishing the way the throwaway mention of a match 62 years ago can generate such discussion. Mention of Cliff Gladwin, the England tailender who got the winning run with a leg-bye, prompts a response from historian and writer Peter Quantrill.

He says his recollection of Gladwin is the phrase he is reputed to have uttered on walking to the crease: "Cometh the hour, cometh the man."

"Now of course with his north country accent, it might well have sounded: 'Coometh the 'our coometh the man.'

"And some say that the origin of the phrase is his."

It seems that might well be right. Although it's a phrase we often hear, nobody seems to know where it originated. It sounds like something from the Bible. John 4:23 has "But the hour cometh, and now is" – but that's as close as it gets

A trawl through the references is much the same. There's an English proverb:"Opportunity makes the man". Harriet Martineau titled her biography of Toussaint L'Ouverture, in1840, The Hour and the Man. An American, William Yancey, said of Jefferson Davis, President-elect of the Confederacy in 1861: "The man and the hour have met". PG Wodehouse, in Aunts Aren't Gentlemen, has: "And the hour ... produced the man."

At the climax of Sir Walter Scott's novel, Guy Mannering, Meg Merrilies says: "Because the Hour's come, and the Man". In the first edition and in the magnum opus edition that Scott supervised in his last years, the phrase is emphasised by putting it in italics.

The hour and the man – but nobody said it quite like Cliff Gladwin at Kingsmead. Nobody else took it into the lexicon of English phraseology in the same way.

This is surely another indication of the superiority of Test cricket. Can you imagine any meaningful phrase emerging from Twenty20?

 

 

Serious flaw

 

READER Rodney Kenyon points to a serious flaw in an e-mail that is flitting about.

 

"Currently doing the rounds is an information e-mail with the sort of trivia we all love to read, including this gem: 'If the population of China walked past you eight abreast, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction in that country'.

 

 

"I appreciate the Chinese are devilishly clever, but it strikes me that if the entire population of China were engaged in the pursuit of walking eight abreast past a designated point, the reproduction rate would slow down dramatically."

 

Quite so.

 

 

Tailpiece

 

Divorce judge: "I've decided to award your wife R10 000 a month."

 

Divorcing husband: "That's jolly decent of you. I'll try to slip her a few bucks myself."

 

Last word

 

The multitude of books is making us ignorant.

Voltaire

GRAHAM LINSCOTT

The Idler, Thursday, April 15, 2010

Shakedown artist shooken

 

HERE'S one to gladden the heart of every honest citizen. Reader Stuart Senar tells of a friend who was driving with a passenger when they came to a stop street at a T-junction.

 

He stopped to let another car through, then proceeded on his way. Then he was pulled over by a policeman who accused him of not stopping. The driver assured the cop he had stopped, otherwise there would have been an accident. It then occurred to him that he was dealing with a shakedown artist looking for a pay-off.

 

The cop walked around inspecting the car, then came back to the window. The driver slipped him a R100 note and drove off.

 

Explanation: Being the owner of a few bars, he encounters the odd counterfeit note. He always keeps one in his wallet for just such an occasion.

 

"He tells me never leaves home without one now."

 

This is indeed a heartwarming tale. I wonder if monopoly money would work.

 

Accents Down Under

 

A READER who calls himself Greg reacts to last week's piece on the difference between New Zealand and Australian accents.

 

"New Zealanders are descendants of free Scottish settlers whereas Australians are descendant s of Irish and English, including the brigands, guttersnipes and riff-raff that were exiled there.

 

"That also goes a long way to explaining the accent of the Americans – Irish, not English.

 

"About 99 percent of the people of this world think the Irish, Scots, Welsh and English are one and the same."

 

Too true, no more so than in South Africa. There's nothing more amusing than the indignation of a Scottish nationalist who finds himself routinely described here, in all sorts of quarters, as "English".

 

Technology monster

 

YESTERDAY we discussed the keyboard layouts that have remained the same in spite of the digital revolution. Today journalism student Zinhle Ngcobo (she doesn't say where) recoils from the monster called technology.

 

"Internet, e-mail, windows (Why not doors?), software, hardware, download, upload, virus, anti-virus, reboot (But I didn't kick you in the first place!) - I thought there were only 11 official languages in South Africa.

 

"Can't they just let us write with pen and paper? I went through 12 years of school with my trusted pen and paper and now I have to use keyboards and word processors (I thought you only did that with food - no wonder I go home scrambled every day)."

 

Zinhle, I remember how shocked I was when told I would have to use a typewriter. But you get used to it. Also, a digital keyboard is a hundred times easier to use than a typewriter. You've come into journalism at the right time.

 

Good luck!

 

Football

BILL Wallace points out that earlier this week I wrongly described American football as "gridiron".

"American football is played on a field called 'the gridiron'. The game is football, a derivation of rugby. We revolted from the Empire too soon for the game of rugby to take hold.

"We also derived another game from an empire game known as cricket and it is called American baseball or just baseball.

"The two above games are the only games along with lacrosse (Native American) and basketball, that were invented by Americans."

Did baseball really derive from cricket? I thought it came from rounders – the game we played at prep school with a bat and a tennis ball – though of course it could have been the other way round. They're both played on a diamond.

I always believed lacrosse had its origins in India, and grass hockey developed from it.

There's a theory – floated in this column before – that American football derives from merging rugby and soccer, resulting from a fixture in the 19^th century between two university sides. When the visitors arrived, after a long journey, it was discovered that one side played association football (soccer) and the other rugby football. But they played the match anyway.

It's an interesting theory. American football obviously resembles rugby, but its long forward throws are like soccer passes. Nobody seems to know.

Tailpiece

 

"WHAT do you think our husbands talk about when they're down at the pub?"

 

"Probably the same things as us."

 

"No! The filthy rats!"

 

Last word

 

Well, the telling of jokes is an art of its own, and it always rises from some emotional threat. The best jokes are dangerous, and dangerous because they are in some way truthful.

Kurt Vonnegut

 

GRAHAM LINSCOTT