A Christmas Tractor For Adrian

Who Can Mong?

I recently came across a website entitled "Drinkmonger".  It mongs, principally, alcoholic beverages.  Interestingly I can never recall the term drinkmonger ever being used before.

However we have fishmonger, ironmonger (who does not sell iron), cheesemonger and I can recall that, in my youth, in the market we had a costermonger (who sold fresh fruit and vegetables) who also had a barrow which went round the streets. 

We also have rumourmongers, fearmongers and scaremongers.

So why do we not have shoemongers, clothesmongers, breadmongers, cakemongers, sweetmongers, tobaccomongers and peacemongers and so on and so forth?

Liverpool Central Library

There's nothing like a good catchy name for making something memorable. Having been brought up in Liverpool and been involved professionally many years ago with the Library, Museum and Art Gallery which were three joined or adjacent buildings on William Brown Street owned by Liverpool City Council I knew the three edifices simply as The Musuem, The Central Library but always the Walker Art Gallery. I have discovered over the years since that one only has to mention "The Walker" in art circles and someone in the company will know it well.

The Central Library had a magnificent circular reading room called The Picton Reading Room. Most of the Library has been completely revamped in recent years to bring it into the digital age. However, the magnificent Picton Library remains, as always, a haven of peace and tranquillity in the modern world. 

Liverpool University had many libraries open for studying in but when I was there the beautiful new Arts Library with it's adjacent lawns had just opened and I wrote many an essay seated looking longingly at students basking in the summer sun outside.  Later when I was studying at the Liverpool Polytechnic (a mass of dislocated buildings in the city which had been the College of Commerce and the Technical College etc) there was no library that I can recall and I often retired to The Picton instead.

The Picton Reading Room from William Brown Street

The Picton: no pen and paper these days

The Picton: a better idea of its magnificance

The incredible, and beautiful, interior of the new Central Library

Contre-jour

Adrian recently reminded me of the term contra-jour as used in photography. At this time of year at this latitude we have to contend with a very low sun. It's really bad when driving but on my morning walks recently it has been a bit of an irritation. Having said that I'm delighted just to have sun so I'll happily put up with screwing up my eyes in order to see.

It has also given me the opportunity for a few pleasing photos on my walks.

Smoking

In October my brother, CJ, and I went to the 1950s Museum in Denbigh, North Wales. It is a fascinating place and, for those of a certain age, it evokes many memories and, for those who are younger, it doubtless causes differing degrees of disbelief. I hope to write a few posts on the museum but this one is specifically on smoking and the, now, unbelievably different attitude to smoking's acceptability in every aspect of life. Who, for example, could ever believe that this advert might actually produce positive results:

I'm sure some of these pictures will bring back memories for some of my older UK readers:

Capstan Full Strength, Senior Service and Players were preferred by men and were rarely (if ever) sullied by a filter tip (I'm pretty confident in saying).

Balkan Sobranie were favoured by people who wished to make a statement (I'm not quite sure which statement) and people who just loved the 'different' taste. My Grandmother smoked Woodbine from pre-teen years (illicitly) until she died at the age of 93. My special treat for her on occasion was to bring in a box of Sobranie.

I had completely forgotten about Park Drive but that was the cigarette that my mother smoked until she gave up - possibly in her 40s. However until she died (again at the age of 93 like her Mother) she always craved a cigarette after dinner.

Pipe tobacco. My Dad smoked Condor (or occasionally St Bruno) all his life (he died at 94). My Uncle smoked the pipe tobacco Cut Golden Bar or Gold Block until he gave up some time before he died (as his Mother and Sister had done at 93).

I gave up cigarettes in May 1967 just having bought a box of 50 Piccadilly Tipped and smoked 3 of them. I threw them across the office declaring I would never smoke another cigarette as long as I lived. The office junior scrabbled round picking them all up and made off with them after asking if he could have them before I changed my mind. I have never smoked a cigarette since.

RIP Dad

Morris Thompson Edwards