Magazine Nostalgia

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Woman magazine, photographed at Goodwood Revival 2016 © Southampton Old Lady
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Christian Dior – The New Look, which I photographed at the V&A Museum, London
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50s ‘Do it yourself’ magazine. Notice the glamorous plasterer!

I am a magazine hoarder. We are moving so I am, painfully, having to let go of all my magazines and books – keeping just the pages of articles I have written only. My magazines more than anything bring back nostalgia – things I wore, things I made but mainly they reveal attitudes towards women.

Women had to fulfil the manual trades while men were at war – women even built London Bridge!  – But when the war was over, the propaganda department tried to get women back in the home. Glamorous New Look clothing, American-style ‘dream kitchens’ with inventive white goods and beautiful baby prams were everywhere in magazines. But women still had the skills they learnt.

In the 50s Do it Yourself magazine showed you how to build your ‘dream kitchen’ – Rationing went on well into the 50s and if anyone wanted anything they had to do it themselves, Christmas toys, tables – people made everything themselves.

When Woman magazine first appeared it was for the new modern woman who could own her own car, then came Cosmopolitan the sexually liberating magazine – but it really was just about how to please your man in bed and sold you make-up. I worked on the British feminist magazine Spare Rib for a few years and burnt myself out. I still have most of the issues and helped the British Library put them all online. Many of the articles published in them are only just being tackled now. Libraries are getting rid of all their hard copies of magazines, so I don’t know what to do with them. They are too important to throw away.

Magazines nowadays are full of nostalgia Our world is changing so fast,  artificial intelligence, never without instant communication, space tourism – by reflecting on our past we can get a grip of reality before we ‘boldly go’ towards the future.

You might like to see my article on Goodwood Revival – a nostalgia event here

In response to WordPress weekly photo challenge: Nostalgia 

The Battle

 

Where am I?

Faced down,

It’s hot.

I’m parched.

Dusty ditch?

Roadside gutter?

Whose territory?

What war?

What uniform?

What happened?

Missile, land mine?

Shock

confusion

exhaustion

eyes closed

attached at wrist?

Gun?

Can’t feel my body

Voices nearing

don’t flinch

play dead.

 

English words

sigh with relief…

women hurry

to my aid

turn me over

place mask over mouth

I breath

They leave

I pass out

Waking later

gagging, coughing

alone

in hospital room

attached to breathing apparatus

hooked to a drip-stand

get up and fight

never give up

It’s a battle with Cancer

© Southampton Old Lady 2013

I often wondered why people referred to it as a “battle” with Cancer.  It is very much fight or flee combat. While staying in hospital and undergoing chemotherapy for Hodgkins Lymphoma,  I hallucinated that I was at war. Two nurses arrived and put a breathing apparatus on me while I was semi-conscious then left.  I heard muffled instructions but awoke hours later with the mask still on.

As you realise, I survived and lived to tell this tale.

6 Word Story Challenge: Supernatural

 

Vienna tomb 2016 © Southampton Old Lady
Vienna tomb 2016 © Southampton Old Lady m

 

 

Guided in darkness through devil’s fen

To take part or see others who have taken part in this week’s 6 word story challenge visit: https://nicolaauckland.wordpress.com/2016/02/20/sometimes-stellar-storyteller-six-word-story-challenge-22/

Black & White in Colour 2: The Hobbit

The Hobbit, a famous pub in the Bevois Valley area of Southampton.
The Hobbit, a famous pub in the Bevois Valley area of Southampton.

The second in my series of black & white scenes photographed in colour. I also keep meaning to do a series about pubs in Southampton, so I will also call this Pub 1.

The Hobbit pub in Southampton, named after a Tolkien character, has been going for around 24 years and draws an eclectic crowd.

It has become world famous now for the law suit: The Hobbit Pub versus Warner Brothers, The lawyers, acting on the motion picture company’s half, tried to force them to change their name just before the launch of the film of the same name. The independent pub received backing both verbally and financially from British actors Ian McKellin and Stephen Fry in the right to keep the name, which was the first case brought against them. Now there is an ongoing battle over the names of their locally crafted ale and cocktails. The cases have been going on for about four years now. The Hobbit holds annual fund raisers to help support their claim.

Customers need to be over 21 and there is a small charge to see regular bands who play in their basement.

For more info: http://thehobbitpub.co.uk

Address to a Haggis – Robert Burns

P1150418I love Burns’ Nights – I have no Scottish ancestry whatsoever, but love the poet Robert Burns (since studying him for my ‘O’ level English Literature) – and the whole festive evening with toasts and Scottish country dancing in kilts. We also go to St Patricks, St Davids and St George’s events, thus celebrating all four countries that make up United Kingdom. My husband lived in Aberdeen for a while and can do such a good accent that many Scots who listen to his “Address to a Haggis” are convinced that he is the “Real McCoy.” I sometimes get asked to do the “toast to the laddies” at the last minute, as often this is the last thing people remember to ask someone to do. My husband goes over-board with the actions to go with the Ode and has so many pleas for this task that this year we will be attending six dinners throughout the week before and after January 25th – the official Burns Night.

Nowadays Haggis is available at nearly every butchers or supermarket in Britain around this time, there are even vegetarian versions. Served alongside tatties ‘n’ nipes (potatoes and turnips) it makes a wonderful winter meal. The Haggis has become a symbol of Scottish pride and Robert Burns address to it is worth attention, I have posted it beneath here with an all new English translation from an anonymous Scotsman which had to be toned down a little bit.

Address to a Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ Sou
pudding-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’a grace
As lang’s my arm.

[Fair and full is your honest plump face
Master of all non-specific sub-premium meat products!
No other non-specific sub-premium meat product compares to your tastiness
Regardless of which part of the digestive system it has been harvested from,
Therefore you are most worthy of this poem
Which is quite ridiculously long (given the subject matter).]

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

[You fill the serving-dish to the brim
And your buttocks looks like a hilltop in the distance,
That little wooden stick could be used for major structural repairs
If I were hallucinating and there was nothing else to hand,
While unidentifiable liquids ooze about you
Resembling the whisky that I’ve already drunk half a bottle of.]

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich!

[Watch and marvel as a man, so drunk he can barely stand up, attempts to clean a knife
And stabs at you wildly with the least of precision
Eventually making a gash in your nondescript innards
Like a makeshift latrine in the woods,
And then, O! what a glorious sight,
The only thing in this godforsaken country that isn’t absolutely baltic!]

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
“Bethankit!” hums.

[Then, gobful after gobful, they scoff it down,
Brawl over seconds, and continue scoffing,
Until all their clinically obese bellies
Become a gluttonous parody of human flesh,
Then the fattest of the lot, on the verge of puking
Mutters “Jesus that was good.”]

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

[Are there any people who, over their fine French food,
Or Italian cooking that would make a pig wretch
Or haute cuisine that would surely make it physically sick
In total and utter disgust,
Look down with a sneering and scornful attitude
On a dinner like this?]

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

[Unfortunate fools! See the eating cultured food that I would bin!
They are as feeble as withered stalks,
Their skinny legs as thin as rope,
Their hands are tiny and effeminate,
When it comes to travelling through peaty bogs and Bathgate
They’ve got no chance!]

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.

[But look at the haggis-eating Scots,
So great that the earth literally shakes beneath them as they walk.
Give them knives,
They’ll stab pretty much any enemy!
They’ll chop off legs, arms, and heads,
Like the tops of the thistles they bizarrely revere.]

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
Gie her a haggis!

[You powers-that-be, who watch over all humanity,
And determine its fates and appetites,
Give to Old Scotland no healthy and nutritious stuff
That gets stuck in the throat!
But remember, we are proudly the ‘sick man of Europe’
And give us more Haggis!]

Mayor Burns

 

Netflix – The Crown

the-crown-netflixStreets are being blown up in Winchester today – not far from my city in Hampshire, as part of Netlflix/Sony filming a big-budget historical drama series called The Crown.

College Street and Kingsgate Street have all been cordoned off  except for actors costumed in 40s attire, and rubble has been placed outside The Wykeham Arms pub for the re-enactment of World War II scenes.

The Wykeham Arms

The Wykeham Pub and Cornflowers on College Street, Winchester
The Wykeham Pub and Cornflowers on College Street, Winchester

www.dailyecho.co.uk/photographs/news_galleries/2016/january/the_crown_in_winchester

I expect that Hampshire Council will well-paid for this inconvenience – at £100 million, the filming budget is said to be the most expensive television show ever produced in Britain.

My family and friends have travelled to various parts of Britain to work as extras since filming commenced last October. Despite having signed secrecy contracts, the scenes at weddings, funerals and stately homes are all over the internet. Netflix have also released a trailor on YouTube: https://youtu.be/n8Q0bJ_zO7w  More stills appear on https://youtu.be/P8fodkCDKLQ

The first two of an eventual series of six, concentrate on the Queen’s early years, her marriage to Prince Phillip, the death of King George IV, her Coronation and the Blitz. These are expected to be released all in one go this Autumn, after the last series of Downton Abbey has been aired in USA and Canada.

If the Netflix binge-watch is financially successful (and these sort of dramas have world-wide appeal) the next two series will be filmed.

The Crown’s creator is Peter Morgan (of award-winning films The Queen and Frost/Nixon). It stars Claire Foy (Anne Boleyn in the Wolf Hall series) as Princess Elizabeth, Matt Smith (Dr Who) as Prince Phillip and American actor John Lithgow as a very convincing Churchill.

UPDATE 4th NOVEMBER 2016 – The first 10 of the series is being released on Netflix tonight.

Amazing People 5: David Bowie

Everyone seems to be writing obituaries to David Bowie who, sadly, died yesterday, so I will try not to repeat anything from those. I just want to give thanks for the profound influence he had on my life. He gave me belief in myself.

Bowie with the Buzz at Southampton Pier
Bowie with the Buzz on Southampton Pier

I first heard of him around 1965 when David Bowie and the Buzz performed in Southampton. Everyone thought that this androgynous bloke who dressed a bit different was enigmatic. He had one of those distinctive voices too whereby you could still hear his London accent even though he was singing a range of things. In 1969 Bowie wrote Space Oddity in time for the first man on the moon – it had got on Top of the Pops by  1970 and at this time he was wearing ‘really weird clothes’.

I had been brought up in second-hand clothes and had always felt an outsider because of it, so I created my own style. Bowie not only made me feel okay, he made me feel cool. Suddenly I was an ‘it girl’. In the early 70s he was due to back Lou Reed on his Transformer tour at Southampton Guildhall.  Everyone rushed for tickets – mainly to see David Bowie, but I couldn’t get hold of one. I waited outside the Civic Centre and just begged others to sell me their ticket. As one woman had only really wanted to see Lou Reed, she agreed to come out for five minutes and lend me her ticket for one song if I bought her a pack of cigarettes, around 5/- or there-abouts (25p in the new decimal currency).

Bowie was dressed so theatrically – I vowed then to always do the same. The song I listened to?  Life on Mars – which I adopted as if it had been written for me.

life on Mars

Bowie onboard the QE2 Southampton during his Ziggy Stardust tour
Bowie onboard the QE2 Southampton during his Ziggy Stardust tour

It’s a God awful small affair
To the girl with the mousey hair,
But her mummy is yelling, “No!”
And her daddy has told her to go,
But her friend is no where to be seen.
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seats with the clearest view
And she’s hooked to the silver screen,
But the film is saddenin’ bore
For she’s lived it ten times or more.
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on

Sailors
Fighting in the dance hall.
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go.
It’s the freakiest show.
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy.
Oh man!
Wonder if he’ll ever know
He’s in the best-selling show.
Is there Life On Mars? 

Later in the early 80s a band consisting of four blokes from Winchester, named 4 People I Have Known, asked me to write them a song. Heavily influenced by Life on Mars, I wrote a song along the lines of:

PERMISSIVE SOCIETY

Just finished with my girl
and I’m feelin’ pretty mean
Went down into town
to watch the silver screen
but its dogs eating children
(can’t remember this bit)
so I pick up someone new and leave
Permissive society, such variety
Man! Is this the only way to live?  
Embarrassing now when I look back, but DJ John Peel liked it and played it his radio show.
David Bowie played at Southampton Guildhall on two or three more tours, but as an art student I couldn’t afford the rocketing prices. I did get all of his albums though and happily moved along all the trends from Glam Rock to Punk to New Romantics with all the glamour and creativity that dressing up and escaping poverty could bring.
Click on this link to hear the Southampton Ukulele Jam session of Ground Control to Major Tom at The Last Night at The Brook 
R.I.P Darkstar

CHEMO BRAIN QUIPS No 3 – Venice

William Turner's Venice
William Turner’s Venice

chemo brain buttonMy chemo-brain quips have been improving since I have been doing this blog – I haven’t had many for a while. Mainly I get names mixed up now. I was able to correct typos about floods in Columbia instead of writing Cumbria.

I have been obsessed with Venice too for some reason lately. I actually booked a flight to Venice instead of Vienna where I will visit friends – that proved costly; I called a woman Venice instead of Veronica, and on New Year’s Day, I announced that we were having Venice pie instead of venison pie

Southampton Old Lady: Self Portrait

My DNA taken for Cancer Research UK
My DNA taken for Cancer Research UK

More about Cancer and DNA on an early post: https://southamptonoldlady.wordpress.com/2015/06/17/cancer-research-at-southampton-university/

I suppose this self portrait, like my name, is quite anonymous. I am quite an ordinary person so why the mystery?

I place great value on my privacy. More and more it is being taken away and what I have left is precious. Please do not be offended when I won’t give my email – mobile phone number (it is off most of the time). I don’t want a chat or a reminder while I watch a film; eat a meal, am out on a walk. I get annoyed during a lovely conversation when interrupted by another on the end of a phone. I am just old fashioned and not one for selfies.

In my past I have been stalked, attacked, had my identity stolen, been near to death. I am left untrusting. But I am also friendly and have good friends. I worry too much about others – I don’t want to offend while seeking truth and stating what is. If I am invisible, I can be myself. I can speak my mind – can write what I like openly. This is me!

This post was inspired by Strata of the Self – If you like self-portraits you need to visit: https://strataoftheself.wordpress.com