The Last Seven Days

I normally try to find a linking theme to justify the random images that I regularly post, but there isn't one this week. Like life, today's post seems meaningless but might be occasionally interesting. You may disagree.

First (or should I say "First up", because I've noticed that a lot of television announcers have started doing this), I really like this 1962 photo of two women who might have been 'flappers' in their youth. It fell out of a book. I remember great-aunts who wore hats like this, even in the 1980s. When their backs were turned, my friend and I would try them on.

Also from the 1960s, this family photo of children in their 'Sunday best'. It's strange how the mini skirt phenomenon affected children's fashions.

My mother went to a school like this and was frequently caned for talking during the lessons. When the war broke out, a lot of the younger teachers left to do 'active service' and they were replaced with Victorian women who had been called out of retirement. She remembers lots of very austere, but slightly confused old ladies.

"Number Forty!" squealed Pam, "that's father's boat."

I love this frontispiece illustration and the accompanying text (apart from the grammatical error).

Is anyone under 50 called Pam? Many names have gone out of fashion, but while I've bumped into the odd Derek and Terry, I've never met a post-1960s Pam. As a name, it isn't aesthetically pleasing - Pam, ham, spam, clam, wham bam thank you mam, etc. Apologies to any Pams out there.

I don't even like my own name, which sounds like the dull thud of a wet, freshly-caught Mackerel landing on the deck of a fishing vessel: phil-ip.

On the subject of vessels:

This illustration is from the good old days when dark beards were synonymous with foreignness and Bolshevism.

I'm not sure how well-researched this novel was. Did Mr Jorgensen spend months accompanying the Royal Canadian Air Force Smoke Jumpers? I'm not convinced that a few men in red costumes would be enough to stop a major forest fire.

This comes from an A4 journal I found last week, recording the progress of the 'Gloucestershire German Speaking Club'.

Beginning in 1938, the book records a vibrant social calendar, including this annual dinner dance:

Apparently, they had Bayrisches Tutti Frutti for pudding, although the local press ommitted to mention that:


Here are the leading lights of the Gloucestershire Deutsche Sprachklub:

I shall refrain from stating the obvious. Sadly, the journal comes to an abrupt halt in the summer of 1939. I wonder what happened to them?

Finally, on Wednesday I took my son up to the London Aquarium, as part of his home education routine. I was very impressed by everything I saw, but I particularly liked this:

My son also loved the aquarium and when we entered the dreaded gift shop, I was more than happy to buy something that would cultivate his interest in marine life. But all I could find were cuddly toys of sharks, and these:

I think they're fridge magnets.

I also saw a stand containing some unusual candle holders:

Who buys these things? I can't begin to imagine the horror that any sane person must feel on receiving one of these as a gift.

I much prefer this heartfelt message, which I received on a birthday card from a good friend:

"Another year older. Another year nearer the nameless terrors of the grave."