Due to circumstances beyond our control, we were unable to bring you our scheduled guest yesterday. Very sorry. I did not find this out till 25th.
(But we did have a lovely post from Sue Price about policemen in Victorian Music Hall songs).
So, we don't have our expected September competition.
But Elizabeth Chadwick has stepped in to save the day and is kindly offering one precious copy of her new book, The Winter Crown, to the best answer to this question:
"If Eleanor of Aquitaine time-travelled to your doorstep, name three things you would show her/do with her for the day"
(Well, it's not a question but you know what we mean.)
Please use the Comments below for your suggestion and we'll choose the best. Closing date 7th October.
And very unusually, just for this month, the competition is open internationally.
Tuesday, 30 September 2014
Monday, 29 September 2014
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman by Susan Price
This is a lovely post from one of our History Girl Reserves, Susan Price, about a once well-known Music Hall song...
My childhood was haunted by snatches of music-hall song and jokes. My Grandfather Price, I'm told, was a great fan of the music-hall, especially the high-kicking dancing girls. (And I heard, passed down from him, tales of the dreaded 'peaky-blinders' long before they became a TV series.)
To this day, I've no idea what this is about. I didn't understand these half-remembered bits of verse. As with nursery rhymes, I learned them by their rythmns, without knowing or much caring what they meant.
That star of children's TV, the puppet fox, Basil Brush, used to end all his jokes with 'boom-boom!' too. But long before Basil came along, I knew that was how you ended a joke. I asked my Dad why, and he said it was because, in music-hall, there was a live orchestra in the pit, and at the end of every punch-line, the drummer would give two thumps on the bass-drum. Later, the comics added it themselves.
I'm one of the ruins that Cromwell knocked about a bit... (Often said in reference to Dudley castle.)
My old man said 'Follow the van...'
'You don't know Nellie like I do,' said the bird on Nellie's hat...
'Here's a joke worth eighteenpence...'
'On the day I was born, my father threw a party in the yard.
The party was my mother.
'My parents were in the iron and steel business.
My mother ironed and my father did the stealing.'
'My father died as he was addressing a public meeting.
The platform collapsed and he broke his neck.'
But I was talking about 'Ask A Policeman.'
The only bit of this song I learned as a child was the chorus quoted at the top of this blog. I had a vague idea that it was a song in praise of fine, upstanding British Bobbies, who would always greet you with a smile and give you the time of day. I once asked my Dad (that fount of all knowledge) about it, and he more or less confirmed this. Perhaps he was protecting me from the hard and cynical world, but I have the impression that he'd never given much thought to the song himself (he was more of a Duke Ellington man.)
My researches reveal that 'Ask a Policeman' was written by Augustus Durandeau (music) and E. W Rogers (lyrics,) and first performed by James Fawn in the 1890s. The first verse and chorus go:
The police force is a noble band, that safely guard our streets.
Their valor is unquestion'd, and they're noted for their 'feats,'
If anything you wish to know, they'll tell you with a grin,
In fact, each one of them is a complete "Enquire Within."
Chorus.
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman.
The proper Greenwich time, ask a policeman,
Every member of the force has a watch and chain, of course,
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman.
But that idea that the song is one of love for our cheery, helpful policemen? Those last lines from the chorus - 'Every member of the force has a watch and chain, of course,' - was sung with a knowing nod and wink to the audience. It was a reference to a well-know urban tale of the time. Everybody knew that when policemen - who were usually working class - came across a well oiled gentleman, the policemen not only gleefully took advantage of their office to arrest the gentleman for being 'drunk and disorderly' when he was only a little high-spirited, but also stole the gentleman's pocket-watch.
A gentleman's expensive pocket-watch, a little miracle of clockwork engineering, accurately counting off the seconds and minutes, was the coveted gadget, the iPad of its day. A police constable couldn't afford one. Yet they always had one! - Because they stole them from their betters.
I suppose there's never been a time when the Police Force has been surrounded by the warm glow of love and approval from the public it serves - despite the necessity of having some such institution. But when the Force first came into being, it was hated not only by the criminal classes (both rich and poor), but by everyone. And especially by those who considered themselves respectable and rather above the common herd.
The Police were, in the main, lower-class men, granted the power to enter the houses of their betters, to ask impertinently about their whereabouts on the night in question, and even to arrest them on suspicion of crimes. Before the establishment of the Force, justice had been in the hands of the local gentry, as was proper. Fellow gentlefolk could be counted on to understand the difficulties a gentleman might find himself in.
And so arose the story of the thieving policeman who - instead of arresting real criminals - targeted the squiffy toff, just so he could pinch his watch. And what if the toff had smashed a few shop-keepers' windows, or broken some street-lamps? - It was only high-spirits, and outrageous to call it 'criminal damage' as if it had been done by some rowdy costermonger or navvy.
If you stay out late at night and pass through regions queer
Thanks to those noble guardians of foes you have no fear.
If drink you want and 'pubs' are shut go to the man in blue,
Say you're thirsty and good-natured, and he'll show you what to do.
Chorus.
If you want to get a drink, ask a p'liceman.
He'll manage it I think, will a p'liceman.
He'll produce the flowing pot, if the 'pubs' are shut or not,
He could open all the lot, ask a p'liceman.
If your servant suddenly should leave her cosy place,
Don't get out an advertisement her whereabouts to trace.
You're told it was a soldier who removed her box of clothes -
Don't take the information in, but ask the man who knows.
Chorus.
If you don't know where she is, ask a p'liceman
For he's 'in the know' he is, ask a p'liceman.
Though they say with 'red ' she flew yet its ten to one on 'blue,'
For he mashes just a few. Ask a p'liceman.
Who guards the guardians? Those set to prevent you buying drink at certain hours, will also see there's a profit to be made in supplying it. And another persistent tale about the early policemen was that they spent most of their time, when they were supposed to be on duty, sitting in some comfortably-off man's kitchen, eating his food and flirting with his cook and maids.
Given that there is so much unspoken meaning behind the words, I'm puzzled to guess how much should be read into the verse about the maid. The master's concern to trace the missing maid could be nothing more than kindly concern - but would the original audience have heard more than that? And why has the policeman lured her away? 'A Masher' was the current term for a strutting young man, but here it seems to have a more sexual meaning. Are we meant to understand that the servant ran away because she was pregnant by the policeman? - Or ran away to live with him? Is there even a hint that police-officers were involved in prostitution? Or am I reading altogether too much into it?
(It’s also interesting to see that ‘pub’ is given in inverted commas, as a piece of exciting new slang.)
The Policeman's villainy comes even nearer home in the next verse:-
Or if you're called away from home, and leave your wife behind
You say, 'Oh would that I a friend to guard the house could find,
And keep my love in safety,' - but let your troubles cease!
You'll find the longed-for keeper in a member of the p'lice.
Chorus:
If your wife should want a friend, ask a p'liceman,
Who a watchful eye will lend, ask a p'liceman
Truth and honour you can trace, written on his manly face -
When you're gone he'll mind your place, ask a p'liceman.
My favourite verse is the last. I enjoy the neatness of the rhyming. It also reminds us that an obsession with losing weight is not such a modern thing as we think.
And if you're getting very stout your friends say in a trice
'Consult a good physician, and he'll give you this advice:
Go in for running all you can no matter when or how
And if you'll have a trainer, watch a bobby in a row.
Chorus.
If you want to learn to run, ask a p'liceman.
How to fly, though twenty 'stun', ask a p'liceman.
Watch a bobby in a fight - in a tick he's out of sight!
For advice on rapid flight, ask a p'liceman.
So, in addition to being a thief, a seller of illicit drink, a lurer away of servant girls and a seducer of wives, that nasty lower-class plod is a coward too!
That was 1890. By 1919, Marie Lloyd was singing,
"But you can't trust a special like an old time copper
When you can't find your way 'ome!"
Thirty years had passed. The Police Force had become an accepted fact of life - and it was the new idea of 'specials' that was attracting suspicion.
Susan Price is an award winning writer for children. She is now self-publishing and is a founding member of the Authors Electric blog.
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman.
The proper Greenwich time, ask a policeman,
Every member of the force has a watch and chain, of course,
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman!
My childhood was haunted by snatches of music-hall song and jokes. My Grandfather Price, I'm told, was a great fan of the music-hall, especially the high-kicking dancing girls. (And I heard, passed down from him, tales of the dreaded 'peaky-blinders' long before they became a TV series.)
They don't do repairs in mid-ocean.
They don't do repairs on the deck.
So for two blessed years, me trousers was hung
From a wart on the back of me neck!- boom-boom!
To this day, I've no idea what this is about. I didn't understand these half-remembered bits of verse. As with nursery rhymes, I learned them by their rythmns, without knowing or much caring what they meant.
She looked at me coy,
She said, 'You're not a boy.
Get off! You're a dirty old man!' - boom-boom!
That star of children's TV, the puppet fox, Basil Brush, used to end all his jokes with 'boom-boom!' too. But long before Basil came along, I knew that was how you ended a joke. I asked my Dad why, and he said it was because, in music-hall, there was a live orchestra in the pit, and at the end of every punch-line, the drummer would give two thumps on the bass-drum. Later, the comics added it themselves.
I'm one of the ruins that Cromwell knocked about a bit... (Often said in reference to Dudley castle.)
My old man said 'Follow the van...'
'You don't know Nellie like I do,' said the bird on Nellie's hat...
'Here's a joke worth eighteenpence...'
'On the day I was born, my father threw a party in the yard.
The party was my mother.
'My parents were in the iron and steel business.
My mother ironed and my father did the stealing.'
'My father died as he was addressing a public meeting.
The platform collapsed and he broke his neck.'
But I was talking about 'Ask A Policeman.'
The only bit of this song I learned as a child was the chorus quoted at the top of this blog. I had a vague idea that it was a song in praise of fine, upstanding British Bobbies, who would always greet you with a smile and give you the time of day. I once asked my Dad (that fount of all knowledge) about it, and he more or less confirmed this. Perhaps he was protecting me from the hard and cynical world, but I have the impression that he'd never given much thought to the song himself (he was more of a Duke Ellington man.)
My researches reveal that 'Ask a Policeman' was written by Augustus Durandeau (music) and E. W Rogers (lyrics,) and first performed by James Fawn in the 1890s. The first verse and chorus go:
The police force is a noble band, that safely guard our streets.
Their valor is unquestion'd, and they're noted for their 'feats,'
If anything you wish to know, they'll tell you with a grin,
In fact, each one of them is a complete "Enquire Within."
Chorus.
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman.
The proper Greenwich time, ask a policeman,
Every member of the force has a watch and chain, of course,
If you want to know the time, ask a policeman.
But that idea that the song is one of love for our cheery, helpful policemen? Those last lines from the chorus - 'Every member of the force has a watch and chain, of course,' - was sung with a knowing nod and wink to the audience. It was a reference to a well-know urban tale of the time. Everybody knew that when policemen - who were usually working class - came across a well oiled gentleman, the policemen not only gleefully took advantage of their office to arrest the gentleman for being 'drunk and disorderly' when he was only a little high-spirited, but also stole the gentleman's pocket-watch.
A gentleman's expensive pocket-watch, a little miracle of clockwork engineering, accurately counting off the seconds and minutes, was the coveted gadget, the iPad of its day. A police constable couldn't afford one. Yet they always had one! - Because they stole them from their betters.
I suppose there's never been a time when the Police Force has been surrounded by the warm glow of love and approval from the public it serves - despite the necessity of having some such institution. But when the Force first came into being, it was hated not only by the criminal classes (both rich and poor), but by everyone. And especially by those who considered themselves respectable and rather above the common herd.
The Police were, in the main, lower-class men, granted the power to enter the houses of their betters, to ask impertinently about their whereabouts on the night in question, and even to arrest them on suspicion of crimes. Before the establishment of the Force, justice had been in the hands of the local gentry, as was proper. Fellow gentlefolk could be counted on to understand the difficulties a gentleman might find himself in.
And so arose the story of the thieving policeman who - instead of arresting real criminals - targeted the squiffy toff, just so he could pinch his watch. And what if the toff had smashed a few shop-keepers' windows, or broken some street-lamps? - It was only high-spirits, and outrageous to call it 'criminal damage' as if it had been done by some rowdy costermonger or navvy.
If you stay out late at night and pass through regions queer
Thanks to those noble guardians of foes you have no fear.
If drink you want and 'pubs' are shut go to the man in blue,
Say you're thirsty and good-natured, and he'll show you what to do.
Chorus.
If you want to get a drink, ask a p'liceman.
He'll manage it I think, will a p'liceman.
He'll produce the flowing pot, if the 'pubs' are shut or not,
He could open all the lot, ask a p'liceman.
If your servant suddenly should leave her cosy place,
Don't get out an advertisement her whereabouts to trace.
You're told it was a soldier who removed her box of clothes -
Don't take the information in, but ask the man who knows.
Chorus.
If you don't know where she is, ask a p'liceman
For he's 'in the know' he is, ask a p'liceman.
Though they say with 'red ' she flew yet its ten to one on 'blue,'
For he mashes just a few. Ask a p'liceman.
Who guards the guardians? Those set to prevent you buying drink at certain hours, will also see there's a profit to be made in supplying it. And another persistent tale about the early policemen was that they spent most of their time, when they were supposed to be on duty, sitting in some comfortably-off man's kitchen, eating his food and flirting with his cook and maids.
Given that there is so much unspoken meaning behind the words, I'm puzzled to guess how much should be read into the verse about the maid. The master's concern to trace the missing maid could be nothing more than kindly concern - but would the original audience have heard more than that? And why has the policeman lured her away? 'A Masher' was the current term for a strutting young man, but here it seems to have a more sexual meaning. Are we meant to understand that the servant ran away because she was pregnant by the policeman? - Or ran away to live with him? Is there even a hint that police-officers were involved in prostitution? Or am I reading altogether too much into it?
(It’s also interesting to see that ‘pub’ is given in inverted commas, as a piece of exciting new slang.)
The Policeman's villainy comes even nearer home in the next verse:-
Or if you're called away from home, and leave your wife behind
You say, 'Oh would that I a friend to guard the house could find,
And keep my love in safety,' - but let your troubles cease!
You'll find the longed-for keeper in a member of the p'lice.
Chorus:
If your wife should want a friend, ask a p'liceman,
Who a watchful eye will lend, ask a p'liceman
Truth and honour you can trace, written on his manly face -
When you're gone he'll mind your place, ask a p'liceman.
My favourite verse is the last. I enjoy the neatness of the rhyming. It also reminds us that an obsession with losing weight is not such a modern thing as we think.
And if you're getting very stout your friends say in a trice
'Consult a good physician, and he'll give you this advice:
Go in for running all you can no matter when or how
And if you'll have a trainer, watch a bobby in a row.
Chorus.
If you want to learn to run, ask a p'liceman.
How to fly, though twenty 'stun', ask a p'liceman.
Watch a bobby in a fight - in a tick he's out of sight!
For advice on rapid flight, ask a p'liceman.
So, in addition to being a thief, a seller of illicit drink, a lurer away of servant girls and a seducer of wives, that nasty lower-class plod is a coward too!
That was 1890. By 1919, Marie Lloyd was singing,
"But you can't trust a special like an old time copper
When you can't find your way 'ome!"
 |
| Marie Lloyd |
Thirty years had passed. The Police Force had become an accepted fact of life - and it was the new idea of 'specials' that was attracting suspicion.
Susan Price is an award winning writer for children. She is now self-publishing and is a founding member of the Authors Electric blog.
Sunday, 28 September 2014
Women of the Warsaw Uprising, by Clare Mulley
This month marks the 70th anniversary of the end of the Warsaw Uprising. By the summer of 1944 the tide of the Second World War had turned. The Soviets, now Allies, had reversed the German advance, and France was fighting towards liberation. Sensing change, the Polish government-in-exile authorized their highly organised resistance ‘Home Army’ to rise up against the extremely brutal Nazi forces occupying their capital.
On the 1st August thousands of Polish men, women and children launched a coordinated attack. The Poles had faced invasion on two fronts at the start of the war, and were well aware of the dual threat to their independence. Their aim now was to liberate Warsaw from the Nazis so that they could welcome the advancing Soviet Army as free, or at least fighting, citizens. Moscow radio had appealed to the Poles to take action, but the Red Army then deliberately waited within hearing distance for the ensuing conflict to decimate the Polish resistance before making their own entry. The Warsaw Uprising is remembered as one of the most courageous resistance actions of the Second World War, but also one of the most tragic.
 |
Gravestone of a female resistance fighter, Powąnski Cemetery, Warsaw. (Copyright Clare Mulley) |
A couple of years ago I travelled to Warsaw to research my last book, The Spy Who Loved, a biography of Krystyna Skarbek, aka Christine Granville, the Polish-born Countess who became Britain’s first female special agent of the war. While there I visited the famous Powąski cemetery where many of Krystyna’s family are buried, along with (parts of) Chopin and other famous Poles. Walking around I was very struck by several memorials like the one above, which shows how a Polish woman who died in 1999 chose to be remembered – fighting for the freedom of her country fifty-five years earlier.
To her despair, Krystyna Skarbek, then stationed in Italy, was not able to join her compatriots during the Warsaw Uprising. However I was honoured to meet one of the female veterans of the conflict at an event at the Polish Embassy earlier this year. A few months later I had the pleasure of meeting her again at her north London home, where she generously shared her memories of the uprising with me over a cup of strong coffee and some delicious Polish pastries.
 |
| Hanna and me at the Polish Embassy earlier this year. (Copyright Clare Mulley) |
Hanna Koscia, as she is now, was just sixteen when she was attached to a Home Army first aid team in the centre of Warsaw. Her role included nursing, and fetching supplies and the injured, sometimes while under fire. On one occasion her life was saved when the wounded female fighter she was carrying took the full force of the fire directed at them. The soldier died an hour later, a moment Hanna will never forget. Another time she was sent out alone to collect some glass bottles of methylated spirits from the city Polytechnic, to serve as basic antiseptic. Climbing back through the ruins she was caught in a bombing raid. Flying debris smashed one bottle, and Hanna felt the meths soak her shirt. A moment later incendiaries started to fall. ‘At that point I realized I was going to die’ Hanna told me, adding quietly, ‘I was a bit afraid, but not much’. Incredibly, Hanna survived the conflict, becoming one of the first female POWs detained in a camp in Germany. To her delight, she was finally liberated by Polish soldiers in May 1945.
 |
| Polish Home Army white and red armband, courtesy of The Warsaw Rising Museum |
Despite the heroism of the Warsaw Uprising, it is a conflict still not well known outside Poland. So I am thrilled that Hanna’s story has been published in full in this month’s issue of History Today magazine. Furthermore there are some wonderful new resources being launched to mark the 70th anniversary of the conflict. Two films in particular stand out:
- Powstanie Warszawskie (Warsaw Uprising) is the world's first feature film to be made entirely from authentic newsreels. The Home Army had commissioned reporters and cameramen to record the conflict during August 1944. It is this footage that has now been colourised and assembled to retell the story of the uprising. You can watch a trailer for this powerful film here:
- Portret Żołnierza (Portrait of a Soldier) is an independent documentary directed and produced by Marianna Bukowski. Marianna spent many hours interviewing her friend Wanda Traczyk-Stawska who, as a 16-year-old girl, fought as a Home Army soldier. While watching some of the original footage from the uprising, Marianna was deeply moved to see Wanda firing her ‘Lightning’ gun during the conflict. Her intimate and very personal film explores Wanda’s story, asking what makes a teenage girl choose to become a soldier. Although currently still in post-production, more information can be read here.
- I am also looking forward to reading a new book on the conflict, Warsaw 44 by Alexandra Richie, a critically acclaimed author whose father-in-law is a veteran of the Uprising.
The Warsaw Rising was fought over 63 days between 1st August and 2nd October 1944. An estimated 18,000 Polish insurgents lost their lives, as well as between 180-200,000 civilians – many during the mass executions conducted by the Nazi German troops in reprisals. On a private visit to Krystyna Skarbek’s grave earlier this year, Polish Foreign Minister Radosław Sikorski emphasized to me that the Home Army commanders were counting on the rapid advance of the Soviet army into the city when they took their decision to rise up. For Wanda Traczyk-Stawska and Hanna Koscia however, the fight was more personal than strategic. ‘We were children of the occupation – we wanted to be free and it was for this freedom that we fought so fiercely’, Wanda told Marianna Bukowski. Hanna was equally clear about her own motivations, telling me, ‘you have to understand how many people had already been killed, what the view was ahead of us… the reality of the situation was that you can’t give up when there is no good alternative for yourself or for others… We just simply had to fight’.
Saturday, 27 September 2014
44 Medieval Beasts That Cannot Even Handle It Right Now, lifted 100 per cent from Buzzfeed, by Louisa Young
I've lifted it, to be precise, from here
All credit is to them. I think you'll understand why I was incapable of not sharing the joy. Apologies for the language, and if anyone can explain what is going on with these poor creatures then I think we'd all be delighted to learn about it.
44 Medieval Beasts That Cannot Even Handle It Right Now
They just can’t. They simply cannot.posted on Aug. 28, 2014, at 9:40 a.m.
9. This basilisk is totally losing its shit with the ferret questioning its decision to murder that guy.
18. This centaur KNOWS what the mermaid is like when she’s had a few drinks and doesn’t know why he ever invited her to meet his friends.
42. This dog cannot even remember why it started chasing a goat across a page of heraldic symbols. WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
LINK