Grouse-2020 by Bristol_1904_Arts

GROUSE The Magazine of Bristol 1904 Arts Issue 50 Christmas 2020

GROUSE The Magazine of Bristol 1904 Arts

Issue Number 50 – Christmas 2020

Bristol 1904 Arts Park Row Bristol

Cover Painting: “Weston-Super-Mare” by J Miller Marshall RWA

EDITORS NOTES (2020-That was a year that was!)

CONTENTS OF THIS 2020 ISSUE INCLUDE: Alan Shellard

Red Feather Lunch

A Life of Riley

Roman Gloucestershire

Alma Mater Bristoliensis

Savage Snappers Report

A Trip to Persia in 1959

Stuart Edwards

Art

The Artists’ Evening

At the Red Lodge

The Citadel of Carcassonne

Avian Feathers Report

The Eberle Portrait

Blue Feather Supper

The Sound of Music

Both Ladies Nights

The Romantic Poets in Bristol

Corn Street Days

The Wye

Diary Dates

Walking Feathers Report

Editor’s Notes Gerry Bessell Green Feather Supper How to become an Artist John Shipley Sketches Lt General Sir William Draper Lockdown Humour J Miller Marshall Malcolm Popperwell New Club Officers 100Plus Club Oily Feathers Report Our President’s Letter Painting on the Edge President’s Paintings

We entered 2020 looking forward to a year of celebration for 100 years since the Wigwam was built, but alas Covid-19 intervened and not only did we lose ten months of regular meetings and events but also we experienced an extension to our categories of membership, together with a change of name. It is fair to say that the latter would probably have come about anyway, but in a longer time frame. Our Secretariat acted admirably in dealing with the problems experienced during not only lockdown but cessation of regular events, by establishing Smoke Signals as a regular conduit of information and entertainment by feather members of all colours- a great effort! They also dealt splendidly with flack (as they put it) from not only members of the public but also (regrettably) from some members of our organisation which was definitely not in what we used to call “The Savage Spirit”. Now that we have a change of name and other changes on the horizon we have “carried on” for Bongie, and it is incumbent on us all to pull together to keep our momentum for change and to attract new members. In addition to our two joint secretaries, our thanks are also due to members of the Task Force and to our President Michael Heming, who has unselfishly continued in the job as we do not yet have a Vice -President to succeed him. The GPC has been meeting by Zoom and we used this method to hold our AGM as well. How long we continue to use this style of communication I do not know as at the time of writing this article the end of restrictions is not in sight, and even our deferred 2021 celebrations for the centenary of the Wigwam are in doubt. Grouse is a little shorter (but not by much) this year due to the cancellation of events that would normally be reported on, so I have used more articles from previous issues and as always I am most grateful to those members who have provide me with copy, in some cases more than once. This is the eleventh issue of Grouse that I have edited, so with a year as assistant to the late Malcolm Popperwell that means that I have been in post for twelve years. My election to the GPC as Green Feather representative for two years, coupled with other commitments, means that I have decided to stand down as editor. To be fair, with the changes made this year following the AGM I feel that Grouse in its current format has run its course and we need to look carefully as to how we communicate with our members and members of the public and outside organisations in the future. If you have any ideas on this and/or would like to help, please contact either me or the Secretariat, I suspect that this time next year, if restrictions continue, there may not be a lot of events to report on! I would like to thank those who have contributed regularly to the magazine, it is really appreciated, and a special thank you also to my two proof readers Michael Newstead and Martin Sisman, who have been with me since I started in post. I hope we can all look forward to 2021 and beyond with a positive outlook Jeffrey Mason

A LETTER FROM OUR PRESIDENT

To All my Friends A final “Savage” Grouse, and after all the camaraderie that the years have brought us. There have been some reasonably serious 'grouses' in the last six months. A good grouse is one thing but there must be an understanding of the platform on which the 'grouse' is made. If there are no members remaining, it is difficult to see where that grouse can be made. Our Grouse magazine has been a regular fixture, summarising the year and to bring this full circle our editor has chosen a classic old sketch for the cover. After eleven years at the helm Jeffrey has decided to step down from this post to take on a more challenging role on the GPC. My grateful thanks to Jeffrey for all that time and expertise he has brought to the role. With Jeffrey's guiding hand the challenging post is now open for applications. I am hopeful that Bristol 1904 Arts will have its own Grouse magazine. Bristol 1904 Arts is alive and well. The planning of our new programme, our regular Wednesday nights, a regular Twist evening, concerts, classical and jazz events, the advent of a caterer on site and lunch time, tea time music, more picture exhibitions……the list is exciting and almost endless. We are members because we enjoy supporting the Arts. We join to enjoy ourselves and help others do the same, we should always try to leave it in a better place than we found it. This year there were many events that were to be held in the Wigwam and have had to be cancelled, our normal Wednesday evenings, our dinners, our Founders Day celebration, not to mention the 100th birthday of the Wigwam itself. When our Wigwam was built in 1920, Bongie and friends provided the society with a venue needed at that particular time and in 2020 we are all tasked to carry this on. Times have changed, our surroundings have changed, Bristol society has changed and 'The Old Bristol Savages' are now changing to reflect that in the new Bristol 1904 Arts. I am delighted that we now welcome lady members, lady painting artists, artistes and general members. We have at last moved into the electronic age with the help of our two Secretaries, astute Treasurer and the backing of some long and upstanding members and we are working to provide a Society to suit modern times. With your help, my fellow members, we will continue to evolve and provide for the needs of the current populace and not one of 100 years ago. BONGIE WE WILL CARRY ON Michael Heming

NEW CHAIRMAN OF THE GPC MICHAEL NEWSTEAD Michael is originally from Leigh-on-Sea, Essex. He read Physics at Bristol University and then worked for a couple of years at Marconi Avionics in Basildon. Thereafter, he trained in London as a Patent Attorney, coming to Bristol with his firm in 1975. He joined Bristol Savages in 1977 (his father-in-law being a member at the time) and has been our Curator since 2009, at about which time he also co-founded the “Avians” bird watching interest group. Michael is married to Karen and they have two daughters, three granddaughters and two grandsons, all of whom live in London

NEW RED FEATHER JOHN DUNN John Dunn joined Bristol Savages in 2015 as a Green Feather and became a member of the 2nd XI shortly thereafter. He was elected a Red Feather in the (interrupted) 2019/20 season. He has always enjoyed drawing and painting although has not been able to devote much time to it until recently. He worked for 40 years as a solicitor specialising in commercial property, first in London and, since 1988, in Bristol with Burges Salmon, before retiring in 2018. John learned the basics of painting in watercolours and powder colours at school (up to Alevel) but is otherwise largely self-taught. He is an active member of Clifton Arts Club and has exhibited and sold pictures in their recent open exhibitions. John lives in Redland with his wife Caroline. They have three children living and working in Bristol, Sicily, and London respectively. His other interests include classical music (as a listener rather than performer), history and history of art, and tending his allotment. For the last 5 years he has been a trustee (now director) of the St Mary Redcliffe Church Lands Charity (“the Vestry”) and is currently chair of directors.

NEW GREEN FEATHERS We welcome as New Members Henry Hilton, Nigel Stafford, Elwyn Jenkins, Richard Cater, Peter Burdett, Tony Everson-Davies, John Poundsford, Derek Roberts, Peter Scott and Roy Lock (also see below)

NOW IS THE TIME TO SAY GOODBYE We are sad to report the deaths of the following members who died during the session ending 30th September 2020 – Malcolm Popperwell, Stuart Edwards, Paul Adams, David Battrick, Tim Thom, Trevor Thomas, David Abbott, David Hall and Roy Lock. We acknowledge their contributions to the life of our society during the periods of their membership

Left: New Chairman of the GPC Michael Newstead Right: New Red Feather John Dunn

Our President for the second year Michael Heming enjoying the roses in his garden

GREEN FEATHER SUPPER 2019 Mid-November in the Savages Year, Remembrance Night having passed, means only one thing. The Green Feather Supper. At the end of a grey day, eighty-four Bristol Savages gathered in the Wigwam ready for the usual bonhomie and humour that this evening promises. Once settled around the ten tables we were called to order so that we might welcome our Top Table. In the absence of the Chairman of the GPC Chairman John Collett (on Family Duties), Vice-Chairman Mike Newstead led in President Michael Heming and Joint Secretaries Jonathan Bird and Arthur Noonan. After our Grace "Prais God for All" offered by Michael Newstead, he proceeded to tell us that the first Green Feather Supper had been in 1956. Aware that the Reds and Blues already had Supper Evenings the Greens opted for one too. Michael told us that the last surviving attendee at that first Supper had been Moss Garcia whose son Tony was present this evening. Tony was probably the most senior Green Feather present having joined the Tribe in 1963. He also pointed out that the Green Feather Supper was open to feathers of all colours! We then set about our Traditional Supper of Green Pea Soup, Boiled Beef, Dumplings and so on. Well up to standard it was too. On this correspondent's table mention was made of the very large portions offered to us. In passing someone had said that some years ago there had been a move towards steak and kidney pie, but this caused an outcry and the notion was dropped. We Toasted "Absent Friends", were informed that it was David Langford's Birthday (and the years!) to which the latter replied that it was “not to be recommended”. The Heavy Gang Yokels made their usual appearance with the Stilton and Cottage Loaf Bread to the tune of the Quartermaster's store. This year they were led in by new Chairman of the Heavy Gang Martin Sisman followed by James Ball, Bernard Kingdon, Bob Gray and Marcus Ashman. Martin, with suitable accent, recited the 'Ode to the Stilton'. He referred to Chairman Mike Newstead, a Savage since 1977, as having now had the “ultimate prize”. The Chairman pronounced the cheese “more than passing fair”. There then followed by an excellent rendition of the Loyal Toast Here's A Health unto Her Majesty sung by Geoff Cutter. John Bedford, a refined compere, introduced Green Feather Peter Bush who had organized our Entertainment. Peter sang and played Billy Joel's The Piano Man. “A Lady” appeared from the back of the Wigwam., a tall lady with auburn hair (more ginger really) to recount The Life of a Savage Wife. One line sticks in the mind when she welcomed the hours on her own as 'a few flush-free hours'. Thanks to David Langford. Peter Bush was then joined by Ian Beattie with his trumpet. There followed a popular trip down Memory Lane with the 20s/30s numbers on my A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square, Georgia on my mind, and Bye Bye Blackbird. Peter, with the help of words on the lowered projection screen, then played a medley which all assembled happily joined in with gusto. - Lambeth Walk, Don't Dilly Dally,, , Roll Out the Barrel, Pack up Your Troubles, Tipperary and Down at The Old Bull and Bush. The Chairman thanked Fredy Eyermann and his staff (all excellent) for his catering and the Tribe applauded a job well done. He then turned to President Michael Heming and congratulated him on achieving his 50th year in the Tribe. Newer Savages may not appreciate that President Mike spent many years as a Green Feather before becoming a Red Feather three years ago. A toast was made to

the President who then remarked what a superb job the two new Joint Secretaries and Treasurer were doing. He also praised all those involved with Savages with a Twist. The Chairman announced the Raffle with three pictures kindly donated by the Red Feathers. The Panto season is almost upon us, so it was entirely appropriate that when he said “where is the bucket?” that there was a huge chorus of “it's behind you!” The lucky Winners were David Langford, John Phillpot and Geoff Wright. To close the evening the Chairman thanked all the Green Feathers for attending - not forgetting those who were Reds or Blues. We ended with the Final Toast “Drink Down All Unkindness”. With this in our minds and good food in our stomachs we coated up, mounted the steep stairs and went out into the cold Park Row air happy and contented. The bonhomie and fellowship within the Tribe had worked its magic again and we all, re-energised, looked forward to meeting our fellow Savages again the following week. John Walker

THE FIRST LADIES NIGHT 12TH DECEMBER 2019

and Dance your boots off. Graham has been on top form this Session and this performance showed us why, he received a well-deserved ovation. Our final act for the evening was new Blue Feather Michael Lunts, who entertained us royally with a cabaret style performance, starting with Noel Coward’s There are Bad Times Just Around the Corner, with Michael altering some verses with his words to reflect the turbulent times we had been experiencing with Brexit and the fact that that it was General Election Day. He then gave us Christmas Time is Here, followed by John Betjeman’s Christmas, a reading called The Night After Christmas and to finish, Noel Coward’s Let’s Do It, with Michael’s own variations in some of the verses of this well-known song. What a consummate performance it was, we are fortunate to have Michael as one of our Blue Feathers. The evening finished with the singing of three carols, led by Ray Anstice and Andy Mclaren, with Allan Schiller on piano, followed by the three verses of the National Anthem. Our President thanked all concerned for a superb evening (and nobody would argue with that) and wished us a safe journey home. Jeffrey Mason

THE SECOND LADIES NIGHT FRIDAY 13th DECEMBER 2019

The lighting inside the Wigwam was atmospheric (i.e. dark) as Brother Savages and their ladies arrived for the first of the two Ladies Nights. Pre-dinner drinks were taken from the bar set up at the back of the Wigwam and in no time at all we were all asked to take our seats for dinner by our Master of Ceremonies for the evening, Green Feather John Bedford. We welcomed our Top Table party, comprising President Michael Heming accompanied by Daphne, then our two Joint Secretaries Jonathan Bird and Arthur Noonan, accompanied respectively by their ladies, Dorcas and Eithne, and finally Immediate Past President Mark Blackmore accompanied by Susan. After our usual grace of Prais God For All, we sat down to enjoy a delicious meal prepared by Fredy Eyermann and his team. Starting with smoked trout fillet, we progressed to roast leg of lamb piperade with assorted vegetables, then fruits of the forest meringue, cheese board and finally coffee or tea with mints. The interval then followed, during which we were all encouraged to place our bids in the silent auction of original paintings kindly donated by the Red Feathers. We then returned to our seats to hear the President announce the results of the silent auction and then to enjoy the entertainment for the evening, kindly supplied by the Blue Feathers. Our first act was Maestro Allan Schiller, who was unfazed by the fact that the piano had been moved to the centre of the platform from the left hand side, to facilitate the placing of a large Christmas tree! Allan gave us the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven, followed by Valse No1 by Auguste Durand. A superb performance by Allan, as we have come to expect. Our next act was Ian Watt, on his accordion, who started with If You Love Me, followed by a medley including When the Saints Go Marching In and Alabama. What a joy it is to listen to Ian! Violinist Graham Smith then followed, accompanied by Allan Schiller on piano. Graham started with a tango called El Choclo, followed by a selection of gypsy music in G minor (described by Graham as being “Romance in the Air”) – Would you tell that Girl

The auspicious date of the Second Ladies Night heralded a smaller but truly exclusive and eclectic gathering of Brother Savages and their ladies, in the beautifully decorated Wigwam. The uniqueness of the evening began with the President welcoming everyone but without the prelude of a parade of the top table dignitaries; this relaxed and informal approach continued throughout the evening, marked by extremely high standards of culinary delights, varied entertainment and very funny jokes. After the traditional Savage grace, our President Brother Savage Michael Heming drew attention to the silent auction of sketches and bid everyone to take their seats. We then enjoyed an excellent dinner of Mushroom, Smoky and Stilton Vol au Vents (exquisitely tasty), Roast Sirloin of Beef (with some of the best roasty “tatoes” ever), Panna cotta (suitably wobbly) and a board of the finest cheeses in Somerset. Judging by the volume of laughter and chatter, this was going to be a special evening. And so it turned out, as our Master of Ceremonies for the evening Brother Savage David Baker welcomed John Davenport to commence the entertainment. To ward off the chill of winter and to get us further into the festive spirit, John started with two warm Spanish pieces (Malagueña and a tango). This was followed by a Christmas medley around the ever favourite – Have Yourself a very Merry Christmas. Our next entertainment came from the virtuoso violin playing of Peter Evans, who provided the excitement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons - Winter, which brought to mind, ice, snow and cold winds. After rapturous applause, Peter played a lyrical piece Eliza’s Aria by Elena Kats-Chernin from the ballet Wild Swans, a really beautiful piece of music, which is why it has been used to advertise certain financial products! Again, there was rapturous applause. Our MC then invited the mysterious, magical and mystifying Chris Payne to entertain us. His first puzzling and perplexing offering was for us to work out how the spots got

from the outside of a black vase onto pure white and black hankies. Then to cap it all, Chris produced one very small sword and one very large one. Having proved that his trick worked with the small sword, his finale required a big sword and playing cards flying up into the air, only for the chosen card to be pierced by the sword. Brilliantly bemusing, and even more rapturous applause. We thought we had heard and seen it all, but more was to follow. Steve Price performed a song from his latest blockbuster Pantomime Cinderella, based on a song from Sting, followed by a suitably memorable Christmassy offering but, of course, this was preceded by two hilarious jokes that had all the guests in fits of giggles. But the highlight of his entertainment section had to be the audience participation in Steve’s version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer complete with hysterical “signing”. You had to see it to believe it! Our evening’s entertainment drew to a close with the rich and mellifluous voice of Stephen Foulkes whose first song was written by Michael Head and called Star Candles (not to be confused with 4/Fork C/Handles) - it was wonderful; and then to cap it all Stephen produced a bravura rendition of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Centenary Song from Iolanthe. Truly memorable singing. But of course no Ladies Night would be complete without the singing of some carols, so without further ado with John Davenport at the piano and led by Stephen Foulkes everyone gave hearty and tuneful voice to: The First Nowell, then a beautifully modulated version of Away in a Manger, and last but by no means least, Good King Wenceslas. It just remained for our President to thank Malcolm and his catering team for nourishing us so well, for Maurice and the Heavy Gang for all their work and for our excellent Master of Ceremonies, then with just one heartfelt verse of the National Anthem we all went home after having enjoyed a fun-filled, exclusive and very entertaining Savage evening. James Short

BLUE FEATHER SUPPER: Friday 7th February 2020 The evening had that special “je ne sais quoi” to it from the moment we arrived. Was it the culinary odours from the kitchen? Was it the large blue feather hanging to the side of the platform? Maybe it was the menu cards proclaiming the 50th supper. Very possibly the presence of many ladies in the Wigwam giving just a hint of our future. M/C for the occasion was Jeremy Watkins con brio and bonhomie. He called for Rod Young, who greeted us in the style of bygone years, before launching into Merrie England, accompanied by Allan Schiller. Rod is unique in that he is the only one of his Feathers to have attended all fifty suppers. On to the second Queen Elizabeth, whose toast was proposed by Jeremy. The last toast was proposed to the ladies by Tim Lewis. He skilfully and humorously praised their qualities and talents by plagiarising the music of Master of the House from “Les Misérables”. Back to Jeremy to toast the 50th Blue Feather supper. The first took place on 17th January 1969 (a particularly auspicious year being that in which our President joined the tribe). 1978 was a fallow year. Previous organisers included Bob Payne and Ron Smith, Ken Matthews, Chris Torpy, Stewart Bowie, Jeremy, Stuart Potter and Alan Spedding. Now for Alan Shellard with his composition that looked back over the past fifty years highlighting the differing entertainment and its fascination before sensitively and perhaps gently nudging us to a future that will look quite different. Jeremy then delighted us with the news that Tim Stevenson and Joanie are to marry in June. We wished them every happiness. By now we were really hungry, but still we could not polish off the plates and dishes, superbly presented by Fredy Eyermann (his twentieth supper) and his brigade. Soup, roast beef, cheese and biscuits and crème caramel. The odd glass of wine helped to wash it down. So, to the entertainment, starting with Allan Schiller. He played Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata to be followed by Sevilla from Isaac Albeniz. By contrast came Chris Payne, Magic Circle young magician of the year (but not this year!). He bamboozled us with the mugger who thought he had stolen watch, ring and cash but found that he had not. He went on to “advise” Stephen Browne, who with a loser’s hand in nap (whist) managed to win all five tricks against the skills of Stephen Browne, Marilyn Mason and Arthur Noonan. His piece de resistance saw milk seemingly being drained from a bottle to a glass via a length of string. Slightly more than a sleight of hand. Graham Smith, James Heming and Stuart Potter performed movingly Playing Love by Ennio Morricone from the film The Legend of 1900 before transporting us to the world of Latino with El Cumbanchero by Rafael Hernandez Before we knew it, the clock was coming up to bedtime. Stephen Foulkes accompanied by Allan Schiller gave us Limehouse Reach by C Fox Smith and Michael Heads. The final number of the evening was chosen from the film “Royal Wedding” - How could you believe me…? All that was left was for Jeremy to thank all who had taken part, Stuart and Alan for organising suppers since 2011 and welcome Tim Lewis and Steve Price to the “hot seat”. Michael Burmester

THE 50TH BLUE FEATHER SUPPER 7TH FEBRUARY 2020 Photographs by Jeffrey Mason

David and Mary Langford, Jim and Margaret Mearns, Michael Burmester, Peter Lingard and Shirley Stark

RED FEATHER LUNCH 4TH JANUARY 2020 Photographs by Jeffrey Mason

Bill and Jenny Phillips, Robert Dawes, Graham and Tegwen Evans, Paul and Joy Main

Michael Heming, Michael Long, Hazel Scott, Toni Parsons, Pat Shipsides, Arthur and Eithne Noonan

Ray and Jeanne Loadman, Allan and Rosemary Schiller, Alan and Susan Spedding, Michael and Karen Newstead

John and Bridget Collett, Stewart and Desi Reid, Geoff and Kasia Wright, Chris and Tricia Winkley

Terry and Harriet Crocker, Graham and Jocelyn Blower, Philip and Jane Drew and Marilyn Mason

GREEN FEATHER SUPPER 15TH NOVEMBER 2019 All photographs by Jeffrey Mason

Peter Davey, John Forbes-Nixon, David Powell, Mark Colfer, John Haynes, Allen Whittaker, Michael Rogers, Vince Watts and Peter Lingard

Bruce Perrott, Paul Richardson, John Oakhill, Philip Wells, John Walker, Michael Withers and John Philpott

Above : Chief Hayseed (and Chairman of the Heavy Gang) Martin Sisman reads the Ode to the Stilton Above right: Chairman for the evening Michael Newstead tastes the cheese and pronounces that it is “more than fair”

Our Green Feather Entertainers: Left; “The Piano Man” (Peter Bush) Below left: “The Lady” (David Langford) Below right: “The Trumpeter” (Ian Beattie)

Ray Loadman, Chris Northover, Stewart Reid, Tim Instone, Geoff Cutter, Robert Dawes and Bob Gray

Geoffrey Wright, Jonathan Bird, Bob Pigott, Tony Beckingsale, Arthur Noonan, Roger Bonner, Paul Main, Peter Guttridge and Terry Knibb

Martin Sudbury, Micky Barnard, Peter Jones, Dennis Hunt, Ian Beattie, Gerry Bessell and Ian Watt

Michael Burmester, David Marval, Bruce Simmonds, Ray Anstice, Peter Watts, Paul Whittaker, James Short and Les Shutt

BRISTOL SAVAGES 100+ CLUB Out of Adversity I am writing this article in the second week of lockdown following the outbreak of the Coronavirus Pandemic. All Savages activities have been either cancelled or postponed to a time when we can more clearly see the way ahead. All we know is that when the pandemic clears, we shall be emerging into a world that will have changed significantly but at this stage how is unclear. But in the meantime we have one or two indications. Alongside is a photograph of the current equipment used monthly to select the winners of the prizes allocated. This method has been used by the President, Assistant Secretary and the 100+ Club Organizer since its inception some 40 years ago. But the lockdown has now forced a change. We have two more monthly draws to go before the end of the season and the Wigwam is out of bounds. We need to make the draw in forced isolation.

So today for the first time we have introduced a random number generator. This has been used by the President to select the numbers for this March Draw and I have translated them at the other end of the telephone line into the prize winners. This appears to be a very effective process and less prone to manipulation than our old system - so I guess it may be here to stay. If so, Good Luck in the Automated Draws. Richard Outhwaite Bristol Savages 100+ Club Organizer

JAMES MILLER MARSHALL, RWA, 1858-1935 James Miller Marshall was born in Tottenham, London in 1858. His parents were of an artistic nature, his mother Augusta was the daughter of John Miller, an important early patron of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and his father Peter Paul Marshal was a Scottish civil engineer and amateur painter and a founding partner of the decorative arts firm Morris, Marshall and Faulkner. James’ s education included attending the Royal Academy of Arts South Kensington School before moving to Norwich with his parents in 1877. James was a professional artist for roughly five decades from the late 1870 s to the early 1920s. He was a leading member of the Norwich Art Circle, a loose-knit group of professional and amateur artists founded in Norwich in 1885 and was their vice-president from 1888-93. Whilst not a conceptually or technically innovative artist after the manner of his Norwich School predecessor John Sell Cotman, he was nevertheless a skilled practitioner of the realistic form of landscape painting favoured by the Art Circle painters of his day. Miller Marshall spent some eighteen months in Australia from early 1892 to late 1893. He arrived in Melbourne by ship and set up a studio at 468 Collins Street. In June 1892 he held an exhibition of the paintings he had brought with him from England. Apart from this exhibition, little is known of his activities in Melbourne. In January 1893 Marshall and his friend Walter Withers travelled to the goldmining town of Creswick, the purpose of their visit being to conduct watercolour painting classes for the residents of the town and they also both taught briefly at the School of Mines. Later that year Marshall visited the town of Charterisville in the Yarra Valley. . He also visited Sydney on his way back home to the UK. Several of Marshall’s paintings are held in galleries in Australia (and more details of these can be found.at slv.vic.gov.au.org). His Fossicking for Gold .can be found in The National Gallery of Australia in Canberra. On return to the UK Marshall went back to Norwich but then decided to n move with his parents to Devon. In 1902 he moved to Bristol, where he became an active member of the group of painters who formed the Bristol Savages in 1904 and therefore Marshall was one of our founder members. He moved to Minehead in 1915. As regards his personal life, he married Emma Beer in 1900 and they lived firstly in West Park, Redland and then in Pembroke Road Clifton. Emma died in 1924, and James survived until June 1935, when he died at Williton, Somerset. You may ask why I am including an article on one of the founder members of Bristol Savages. The reason is quite simple: I thought it appropriate that in the centenary year of the building of the Wigwam that I should use as the cover to Grouse (with the approval of our President) a painting by one of the Red Feather members who were alive in the early part of the twentieth century and Marshall’s painting (which is in our possession) appealed to me and in addition his life story is an interesting one - I hope that you agree. Jeffrey Mason

A DAY IN ROMAN GLOUCESTERSHIRE

"Resigned Ensign" Grey clouds scudding across evening smeared sky bound from the West, searching with single eye the safety of harbour home. Her cargo cleared, hatches battened and derricks resigned to arms crossed fare, she heads on. The maiden coat of grey showing Verdigris from brass rails tarnish. And once proud bridge with flaking varnish, Holds portholes clouded with spray tears. Her plates rusted and crusted with the barnacled Miles of many seas, she heads on The engines in rhythmic prayer moan, turning Aged shafts with blades that groan. Her bows divide waters of licking foam Ploughing its furrow through crests and troughs Slipping for home. Pursued by raucous pilot gull, slicing the wind with sabre wings, resting in the tall stacks' thermals. She shudders from time to time, a missing heartbeat perhaps, but tired too. This, her last nervous journey to a slipway in a sideways creek. Where her heavy heart will still and her soul will sleep Not the death to be feared - the death of the deep. Her reduction in size to materials of worth no cheers, no champagne as at her birth. Her life of tramping over the sea roads will end. She will lie alone, and die without friends.

On Thursday, September 28th, 2019, 28 (XXVIII) of us, under the leadership of Paul Main set off, pretty much on time, in what is becoming our executive Savages /Turners coach, bound for the famous Roman sites in Cirencester and Chedworth. Cirencester was established in about 49 AD and grew to be the second largest town in Roman Britain, second only to Londinium. The Roman name of Corinium (rather than Cirencester) seems somehow more appropriate for this report, so I will continue to use it. The weather, forecast to be ‘uncertain’, was, thus far, clear and sunny and we all crossed our fingers in true Roman style. During our 30 minute ride, admiring the scenery from the elevated seating on the coach, we were entertained in true TV style on “What the Romans did for us” by our leader. The 10 (sorry X) most important things, according to Paul, were as follows:Fast food: Vendors serving ‘fast food’ from street stalls were common in large towns and they helped to keep the military fed. Advertising and Trademarks: Advertising by local signs was frequently used by traders, and potters often stamped their names on their vessels as a mark of quality. Plumbing and Sanitation: The concept of fresh water and sanitation was introduced to Britain by the Romans and their aqueducts and drains were hallmarks of their achievements. Their toilets and baths can still be seen in many sites, especially in the forts on Hadrian’s Wall. Towns and town planning: The idea of arranging dwellings in a particular place was a Roman introduction and their towns still form the basis of many of our present day towns. Londonium and Bath (Aqua Sulis) are examples and Corbridge and Aldborough are Roman towns that you can visit today. Architecture: Stone construction was new to Britain and the straight lines of Roman forts, bridges and villas were a contrast to the round timber constructs of the day. The stones can still be seen in many Roman sites.

Gerry Bessell

Roads: The secret to a good Roman road was – ‘build wide, straight and put a good paved surface on it’ – shame we seem to have forgotten so much.

The Julian/Gregorian Calendar: The Julian calendar gave the 365 day basis to our present Gregorian calendar. We have retained the Roman derivation of the names of the months for our diaries (electronics too). Currency: The Romans imported their own currency, the denarius, which could be used with a standard value anywhere in the Empire for the purchase of goods. Latin: Latin was, and is, the origin of much of our everyday English vocabulary and language e.g. Plumbing is so called because the Romans made pipes out of lead (plumbum). Bureaucracy: The introduction of writing and the keeping of records, some in triplicate, left a large information base telling us about life in Roman Britain and made a huge impact on life in Britain [then and now!] I’m not sure whether all the above qualify as ‘good’, in fact I think that some bureaucracy was definitely not - but on we went to Corinium. On arrival we sauntered down to ‘Jack’s’ for necessary refreshment – coffee and lovely cubes of a wide variety of cakes; what a great way to eat cake, was there a Roman origin? ‘Onward, onward’ came the leader’s cry, so we all strolled the whole 20 (XX) or so yards to the wonderful Corinium Museum. We were welcomed and had a brief (more was to come with lunch) introduction to the museum by James Harries, the Collections Officer. We were allowed to wander through the museum’s collections of ancient statues and mosaic floors, all beautifully exhibited.

We even found a lady who could challenge us to remember and identify World War II aircraft silhouettes and (if spoken to nicely) allow us to try on an ARP ‘tin hat’ – who remembers the ARP? I could wax lyrical about the quality and symbolism manifest in the exhibits, but they have to be seen ‘in the stone’ as it were, to truly appreciate them. Do go to the Corinium Museum if you can – it’s terrific. Too soon we were hauled off to lunch at “The Fleece” Inn, which is a 300 year old Inn and provides excellent buffet and finger snacks and even allows a power-point lecture to accompany the meal, so we were well catered for in mind and body. Our Turners coach picked us up in front of the Inn and proceeded along quite narrow lanes to Chedworth Villa; the weather still being good and dry. Here we were met by ‘Sensorenius’ (see below) and his wife Octavia, who gave us an introductory talk and then, dividing the party into two, led us around the site, exhorting us to ‘take care’!

MALCOLM ROBERT POPPERWELL Q.P.M. (1933 - 2020)

Their knowledge of the artefacts, some seen and some still buried, gave us a good understanding of Roman life and times. We were just viewing the Nymphaeum when, finally and perhaps appropriately, the water gods satisfied the ‘uncertain’ forecast for the day and sprinkled us with a little rain, but it was very little and encouraged us on to our cream tea. So, back to John Price and his executive coach. We returned to the Red Lodge, where two members of the group managed to leave vital sticks (walking) on the coach. Retrieval of the sticks was effected by our heroic leader (his wife Joy assured us it was no problem because Paul had recently completed a long pilgrimage and was very “walking fit)”. Mm mm, well ok, but it was more than kind of him to make the recovery. So, thank you Paul and Joy for a super day in the Roman past of Gloucestershire – when is the next one? Trevor Thomas

Honoured Savage Malcolm Popperwell died on 11 January 2020 after several weeks in hospital following a bad stroke. He had lived in Burnham-on-Sea since 1999, when he and his wife Barbara had moved there from Stoke Bishop. He joined Savages as a Green Feather in 1989, after his retirement the year before from Avon & Somerset Constabulary with the rank of Assistant Chief Constable. Although Malcolm went on after retirement to give further public service, as Chairman of Southmead District Health Authority for 4 years, and in other charitable roles, founding Avon Talking Magazine for the Visually Handicapped, serving Boys Clubs, Meningitis Research and the British Heart Foundation, he embraced the opportunity to join Savages, and pursue his interests in art and performance. So, for nigh on 30 years, Savages was an important part of Malcolm's life, and he loved the fellowship and conviviality, although that intense participation meant a longish journey each time. In 1999 Malcolm was elected Chairman of our GPC, and after that promotion was assured to the legendary Heavy Gang - where over coffee and banter the world of Savages, and indeed the whole world, was put to rights. Malcolm's wise counsel was always listened to, but even more so was his daily joke or hilarious story, often from his police days, or gleaned from the internet or his Probus pals in Burnham. His early years on the variety stage must have given him a lasting love for entertaining, because he wrote, and appeared in, numerous humorous scripts and skits for cabaret turns in the Wigwam. Malcolm edited "Grouse" for 10 years, 2000-2009, supplementing the literary contributions with substantial editorial additions of his own. He revived the magazine in such a way that by our Centenary Year, it was carrying attractive coloured photos, and an entire colour supplement of that year's events. He was helped in that by his friend and our Honorary Secretary, the late John Cleverdon. Malcolm had taught himself computer skills, to the pinnacle of being able to manipulate text and images necessary to produce that thoroughly professional publication. But he was first to admit that on a personal computer, a PC, he was still a 2-finger typist - a PC plod, in fact. Because Malcolm had such a feel for 'The Savage Spirit', warmth of friendship and helpfulness one to another, that he identified a few prominent Savages who typified that, and he organized and recorded interviews with them about their Savage lives and experiences Norman Morgan, his old boss of the Heavy Gang, Louis Garcia, a talented violinist, John Cleverdon, maitre d' of everything Savage, Jim Mearns on his 100th Birthday, all valuable to the archives of our Society. Allegedly Malcolm printed out the transcripts and got each of them to sign as a true statement, which then could be given in evidence. Malcolm was born in Everton, the eldest of five siblings. After attending many schools, including a spell evacuated to North Wales during the War, he left school at 16, lured by the glamour of the stage, treading the boards with "Dudley Dale and his Boys", a singing group appearing in variety shows all over the country. National Service was in the RAF, and from a posting near Lowestoft he met local girl Barbara at a jazz club. Eligibility had to be proved quickly, so he joined the police force, courting her from his home in Cambridgeshire before they married in 1958. That qualified them for a police house in Ely, and he pounded the beat

and learnt his life skills on the job, as was the way back then, before patrol cars. Their son Ian and daughter Clare were born there in Cambridgeshire. As Malcolm rose through the ranks of the Mid-Anglia Constabulary, he made many friends with his training and mentoring skills. Then in 1973, to be nearer Ian at the Grammar School for the Blind in Worcester, he transferred as a Chief Inspector to the Gloucestershire Constabulary, Filton Division, which very soon after morphed into the Avon and Somerset Constabulary, where he stayed for the rest of his career, continuing upwards to ultimately Assistant Chief Constable, Operations. In that capacity he commanded many high profile operations, including Badminton Horse Trials, Glastonbury Festivals, Royal visits, and more political challenges, such as New Age Travellers, the St .Pauls’ Riots in 1980, the longrunning industrial strike at British Aerospace, and secondment with his police unit to the Miners' Strike in South Yorkshire in 1984. He was known for his practical, 'can-do', firm, but balanced, style of leadership, leading from the front, earning the trust and respect of the officers who served under him. He served in a number of elected posts in police staff associations, at all levels of seniority, which showed that trust and respect of his fellow officers. In the 1987 Honours List, he was awarded the Queen's Police Medal for Distinguished Service, a very high honour. And Bristol Savages was the beneficiary in his retirement of Malcolm's distinguished career. As a new recruit to the Green Feathers, with no previous convictions (as he would have put it) but with very significant antecedents, and as a leader of men, he gave Savages nearly his all for 30 happy years—happy for him and happy for us, to have known such a man. Savages recognized this by awarding him in 2006 the status of an Honoured Savage, which indeed speaks for itself, for the man and for the club which he so loved. Martin Sisman

A TRIP TO PERSIA IN 1959 In the summer vacation of 1959, my second at Cambridge University, I decided to do the “Regional Essay from Original Sources” set as part of the final year’s examinations for the Geographical Tripos. I wanted to avoid a U.K. based subject, so, having heard from Iranian student friends at my boarding school in Wellington, Somerset, that many interesting developments were under way in their country, I wrote to several U.S. companies working there to ask if I could visit and write about what they were doing. This resulted in an invitation from the Morrison Knudsen company, who were building a 600ft double curvature arch concrete dam, for irrigation and hydro electric power, in the Elburz mountains north west of Tehran, to stay with them and chose a subject to cover whilst there. With limited resources as a student, I decided that the best way to get there – some 3,400 miles by road – was by hitch-hiking! The company management were horrified at this idea, but, with a great family friend and fellow Cambridge undergraduate Adrian Taylor agreeing to accompany me, I set off. By serving at Sea Croft Hotel at Eastern Praa Sands on Mount’s Bay in Cornwall for a few weeks I saved up £30 to help pay for the trip. I had only a couple of colour transparency films to cover this adventure, so took no slides en route. We reached Yugoslavia in three days and were very lucky to be picked up there by an Iranian engineer called Sharok-Shahi who, after working in Germany for two years, was returning home to Tehran in a brand new VW “Beetle”. In Belgrade we acquired visas to go through “The Iron Curtain” and travel with him through communist Bulgaria, which involved a compulsory stay in a grand hotel in Plovdiv, where I remember enjoying some of the best strawberries I have ever eaten while listening to a group of Soviet Army soldiers singing at their adjacent table! The next few days we passed through Greece, crossed the Bosporus into Istanbul and from there across Turkey through Ankara and Sivas to Erzurum, where we got a nasty shock! East to the Russian and Iranian borders was a military zone through which all vehicles had to carry a soldier, complete with rifle! Our kind driver was unable to carry this soldier with us and our large rucksacks, so had to depart without us. We spent three days sitting at the police station in the hope that a large enough vehicle would offer us a lift. Fortunately, I had taken advice to carry with me (hidden in my socks!) a supply of Wilkinson Sword stainless steel razor blades and Parker ball-point refills which were “international currency” in these parts at the time. We were able to stay in a good B&B for the whole period for just one packet of the former items!! On the third evening a black, dust covered Vauxhall Cresta pulled in from the east to report to the police. The driver was an English man, called George Dilworth, who explained that he was returning to Iran the next day and could fit us in complete with soldier and rifle! It transpired that for a couple of years he had found it much cheaper to stay in Iran on a tourist visa, which lasted only six months, and drive out for one night to return on another tourist visa the next day. However, having driven past Mount Ararat (of Noah’s Ark fame) to the Iranian border post we discovered that Tehran authorities had obviously spotted the visa trick and had made George’s new one (in Farsi language and script) for “entry by air only!” To solve this problem we agreed to share driving around 350 miles back to the nearest Iranian consulate, at Trabzon – a port on the Black sea coast, where we could get George’s visa changed. We took it in turns to drive, navigate and rest in the back. Speaking both French and German, I was able to do the business in Trabzon when we got there. We then (somewhat foolishly forgetting that we would again cross a military zone) decided to look at more of the Black Sea coast by driving towards the Russian border at Hopa before turning east again to Iran. We ended up locked up at a military check point, by soldiers who spoke only Turkish, and kept us there on bread and water for a whole day and night! We

were greatly relieved when, on the next day, the door was opened by an officer in a smart uniform and Sam Browne belt. Trained at Sandhurst, he spoke perfect English and soon had us released. Each check point thereafter “presented arms” for us as we passed on our return to the Iranian border post!

We arrived safely in Tehran at about the time I said we would and were most kindly looked after there for several days by George and by John Mills, a Keynshamian working in the British Council in Iran, with who I had been put in touch before we left. (John was son of the optician I had used for several years at home.) It took several days to get ourselves officially registered as visitors with the police authorities – indeed, the first new word I learned in Farsi was “Farda”, frequently used and meaning “tomorrow”!! We were welcomed at the Karaj dam site with open arms. The Americans were extremely well established in accommodation, catering and leisure-time facilities, including two swimming pools a tennis court and a cinema! Their Safety Officer, Ed Dekoosian, took us on tour and made sure that we recognised dangers on the site before we were allowed, with tin helmets, on to the dam. It was possible to climb all over the growing structure on wooden ladders. Fortunately, we both have good heads for heights! We learned fascinating details about geology in the preparation of foundations and the technicalities of laying concrete in hot climates. The scale of the job was quite staggering. My main interest, however, turned out to be in the fate of the four villages in the valley which were to be flooded by the lake formed behind the dam, and it was on this that I prepared my regional essay. This meant visiting the villages with an interpreter and then discussions with the Iranian Ministry of Agriculture and their equivalent of Social Services to find out plans of relocation, or alternative compensation, for the displaced villagers. Most of the land offered was around the little town of Karaj and this had an established Agricultural College which was very much involved in ideas for suitable crops to be grown by the new inhabitants and potential livestock. Everyone I met was most generous in the provision of information, including maps and photographs, so I was able to compile plenty of material with which to prepare my essay. Before leaving Karaj we accepted Ed Dekoosian’s invitation to visit with him the Caspian Sea, north of the Elburz Mountains. This involved continuing up the “Re-Located Road”, which, in a series of hairpin bends, carried the road from the river-side level up over 600 feet to a level above which the lake would be after completion of the dam and on to the coastal town of Chalus. We camped overnight at a site by the sea and in the morning enjoyed a swim in the warm and very salty Caspian. We also spent a couple of days exploring the bazaars in Tehran and doing some shopping there. An added bonus for my work at the dam was an offer by Tehran’s English language newspaper to make a generous payment for an article about my stay in Karaj. That would greatly help in the following “tourist” part of our visit! Further help with our travelling costs was made by a member of the Morrison Knudsen staff. He said he was always being asked by his family in the States to send pictures of Persia’s famous buildings, but never had time to visit them, so he would pay for our coach fares if I was prepared to take photographs for him in Esfahan, Shiraz and Persepolis. Not only did he provide cash, but a good camera and lots of colour film too! While on this journey, my fiancée, Anne Paskin, who studied Geography with me at Cambridge, was also making a journey to do her regional essay. Anne travelled, again mainly hitch-hiking with her friend Eileen Gale, to Bodo, a coastal town in Norway just north of the Arctic Circle. This had been virtually demolished by the Germans during World War II and her essay was about its subsequent redevelopment. There were no such things as mobiles or emails in those days, so our only means of communication was “Poste Restante”. We wrote to one another using this service in various towns through which we were likely to be passing and, amazingly, managed to collect every letter sent in both directions!! In my case I picked letters up in Vienna, Belgrade, Istanbul, Ankara, Erzurum and Tehran. I am now able to copy those I sent to Anne to describe our further adventures “verbatim”.

“Monday 3 August 1959. Yesterday we left Tehran for Esfahan at 5-30AM. The ride was not particularly interesting for the first few miles – just desert, dry and dusty, with escarpment after escarpment, low, arid and gullied. There were occasional oases, all very similar, and we did see oil seepages in one or two places and our first oil derrick. Passing through the city of Qom we caught sight of the magnificent mosque there, but the bus didn’t stop so I could only snatch a snap whilst moving. The mosque had two domes, one high pitched and famously gilded with pure gold, the other a more saucer shape, pale turquoise with intricate designs in darker colours……The town was full of Mullahs as Qom is “the Holy City of Iran”. I slept a lot after that, despite the shocking roads, and we eventually arrived in Esfahan at 5PM – three hours later than scheduled! We found Guy Otwell, one of the Cambridge men we had met in Erzurum, and he introduced us to the British Council who allowed us to sleep on cushions on the floor of a classroom – very comfortable and all mod cons at nil cost! 4 August. I couldn’t possibly describe adequately, even in a thirty page letter, the wonderful sights I’ve seen this morning. We were up by 6AM and crossed back over the Syosepol Bridge into the centre of the city The first really impressive sight we had was the dome and minarets of the Madreseh Chahar Bagh, a theological college built in the 17th Century towards the end of the Savavid dynasty – a great subject for colour photography!...........We then found our way to the Maidan Square, laid out by Shah Abbas. Here nobles used to play polo and the old goal posts are still in place, but the square is now filled with lovely gardens and pools. Completely surrounding the square is the Esfahan Bazaar – a fascinating maze of vaulted passages with small shops and workrooms on either side. Sunlight streams in through small gaps in the vaults, and inside it was very cool by comparison with the heat of the Maidan Shah. In one part the ringing of anvils declares the presence of several forges. We watched one blacksmith and his apprentice at work. Bright red with heat, a piece of metal was beaten flat by the hammer in the young man’s hands, while the elder carefully put it in the correct position. Before our eyes an axe head was formed! In the final operation the flattened section was placed in a massive pair of shears which, forced together by hammer blows, sliced through the metal as if it were butter. In another quarter the incessant beating of hammers gave the impression that some enormous task was in hand and that a thousand people must be working at it! In fact it was only the copper smith’s section, where patterns were being beaten into trays, plates and dishes…..Then there were parts filled with bright and wonderful clothes, printed fabrics, shoes and other leather products – each section with a distinctive smell. Back in the Maidan Shah we found on the west side a most impressive building called the Ali Capu, or the “Royal Booth”, from where the high nobility watched the polo and revelries in the square below. This has six stories of small rooms for entertaining visitors. Although in rather poor condition now, the interior decoration must have been breathtaking. All the walls bear plaster carved into delicate floral designs most beautifully coloured. Opposite the Ali Capu is the Lutfollah Mosque – claimed to be”The most beautiful mosque in the world”. Its dome has an unusual fawn, or almost light mushroom background colour from which elaborate floral decorations stand out clearly. Inside lacy stone apertures at the base of the dome light the walls of blue, purple, pale green and turquoise tiles which seem to colour the very air inside. It’s like being in an opal or a pale emerald! Everything is so light and delicate that it’s hard to believe it was built by men. “At the south end of the square stands the Shah Mosque. This has a magnificent gateway with a vaulted and mosaiced arch and two minarets on either side…. Throughout the whole building the walls are covered with dazzling mosaic work. A student there, who spoke good English, showed us various things which otherwise we would have missed. For example, in one of the domes he stamped hard under the centre and back came seven staccato echoes! He also pointed out that the marble used in the building came from Yazd and had to be transported 170 miles by man and beast. One enormous

stone had been hewn into a preacher’s staircase and another set up in a courtyard so that when exactly covered by its own shadow it is noon.

We then went to see the interior of the Madrasa Chahar Bagh. A school, not a mosque, it was in some ways even more beautiful, as its courtyards were filled with shady trees and herbaceous borders around pools with gold fish……….The caretaker here produced a little book with explanations in English saying that visitors were not allowed upstairs in the building, but he said if we told no one we could go up one of the small minarets! We promised to keep “mum” and soon were on the roof below a dome, where we got a close look at the tiling before climbing to the top of a small minaret, from where we had a glorious view over Esfahan. By this time it was 1-30PM, so we had lunch – the almost inevitable chelo kebab, but a good one with raw egg yolk, salad etc After that we toiled through the glaring sun to the Juma (or Friday) mosque. The caretaker here was fast asleep, which made me realise how sensible the Iranians are, all napping in the shade in the heat of the day. It reminded me of “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”, and Adrian made a remark which summed up our feelings about the heat and Iran in general when he said “I like this country – living permanently in pyjamas and sleeping half the time – it would suit me down to the ground”!! The main feature of the Juma Mosque, which is the oldest in Esfahan, dating from the 8/9th Century, is the enormous archway – “the largest in the East” – flanked by two minarets over 100 feet high. From here we went to the Chehel Sotoun, the summer pavilion designed by Shah Abbas, who was reigning in Persia at the same time as our great Queen Elizabeth l. Its name means “Forty Pillars”, and while in fact there are only twenty enormous wooden pillars the other twenty are provided by reflections in the great pool in front of this building! After this we again crossed the Zayandeh River to Julfa, the Christian quarter of the town. Shah Abbas had encouraged a large number of Armenians of that faith to help build his great bridges and palaces, as they were famous for their craftsmanship. He tolerated both them and the Jews, giving them land on which to build their dwellings. This is where our hosts the British Council were located. Monday 9 August 1959. After two thoroughly enjoyable days in Esfahan we moved on to Shiraz. The bus which was supposed to leave at 5AM left in fact at 8-30AM, so the journey was rather a gruelling one through the heat of the day………However, two sights on the way I will never forget. The first was one of the nomadic tribes moving southwards to winter pastures – camels packed with tents, flocks being driven behind, women on donkeys and horses, sitting as on armchairs (!). The only photographs I could take were from the moving bus, but I do hope they will give at least some idea of this unusual sight. Apparently we were very lucky to see a tribe on the move as they usually come much later in the year. Drought this year has led to a shortage of pasture further north, hence the early move. (The internet in 2017 tells me that this was the Bakhtiari or Qashquai tribe, a small percentage of whom are still nomadic pastoralists migrating between winter and summer quarters. The majority have now become partly or wholly sedentary, a trend which has been increasingly marked since the 1960s. For nearly twenty years I collected Qashqui Persian carpets from an Iranian trader who has a stand at each Badminton 3-Day Event.) The second great sight was passing Takhte-Jamshid or Persepolis in the twilight. A brilliant sunset changed from primrose yellow to gold which, with the brown of the dry foreground and the black of the ruined pillars and arches silhouetted against the sky made the most beautiful picture. We were to visit

there next day. We did not reach Shiraz until nearly ten that evening and had booked nowhere to stay. We decided to try the Christian Hospital we were told was close by. Announcing ourselves at the door as students from Christ’s College, Cambridge, the answer came “Well I’m John Coleman from Christ’s College, Cambridge and I started this place! Come on in!” “What a remarkable coincidence! John Coleman and his family could not have been kinder, offering us the floor of their lounge to sleep on with the comfort of a few cushions. The next morning we found that we had really struck lucky. Dr Coleman is the most wonderful man, dedicated to his work and running a hospital, which is always crammed to the brim, with utmost efficiency and calm. He has been here for twelve years and speaks the native language fluently. Every week he takes trips to the villages round about and all the people know and trust him. We spent one whole day looking over the whole of the hospital and I took a lot of photographs of all aspects of John’s work for him with his camera, as he never has time to take any himself. We saw blood transfusions, various wounds being treated, cancers etc. and had we been there another day we could have seen an operation being performed. He does everything from snake bites to appendectomies, from teeth pulling to hernias, from bone grafting to delivering babies! He took us on a trip round the town in his Landrover, showing us the tombs of the famous Persian poets, Saadi and Hafez, and also the skeleton of “The tallest man in the world” – a beggar living here 20 years ago who was 8’9” tall! The inhabitants were very friendly and the native costumes worn by the women magnificent. The colours were brilliant – they wore about five skirts, each not quite covering the other (diagonally) and then a transparent chuddor on top. Bright orange fabrics with floral designs lay over pinks and greens. Such colours would clash terribly in England, but in this bright light look superb! The day after we arrived in Shiraz we took a taxi out to see the ruins of Persepolis; but first we went a further couple of miles to visit the tombs of Darius the Great, Xerxes, Cyrus and Artarexerxes at Naqshii-Rustam. The tombs were carved out of a solid cliff face and I was impressed at the enormous amount of room inside. From the small entrance door one might have expected just a little chamber, but there is in fact a long corridor with tombs inside in sets of three, all carved from the solid rock. By the time we got back to Persepolis it was scorching HOT and we were there from 10AM until gone 1PM. With the sun beating down relentlessly I have never been so hot in my life!! It was 110˚F in the shade, so must have been much more in the sun. Nevertheless I plodded all over the ruins, as I don’t suppose I will ever get the chance to visit them again. The bas-relief sculptures around the base of the Apadana, illustrating different tribes bringing tributes, are truly wonderful and as I had with me a book by the Shiraz Christian Priest – the Rev. R.N. Sharp - who, after 35 years in Iran was an authority on archaeology, everything meant something to me and I was enthralled by the wonder of it all.” Two more days travelling saw us back in Tehran by Monday 9 August and by the Wednesday we were on our way back to the U.K. We had saved enough to go most of the way by bus or train and arrived in Baden by Vienna by Friday 21st. I had arranged, by “Poste Restante”, to meet Anne in Amsterdam Youth

Hostel and from there to hitch-hike to my sister Pat’s flat in Brussels. Then on to my ex-pen-friend JeanLouis Lefebvre in his lovely Rue de Rivoli apartment home, opposite the Louvre museum in Paris. The photo on the right above illustrates how THIN I had got on this few weeks away from home and the one on the left shows Anne looking down on a President Charles de Gaulle motorcade from the balcony of the Lefebvre’s flat. How lucky we were to have experienced such wonderful travels. John Stone

OILY FEATHERS REPORT In the year 2020 the coronavirus arrived resulting in all our proposed runs, rallies and other Events, including the summer break in Devon and our traditional Christmas lunch, being either cancelled or deferred, hopefully to 2021. However, the easing of guidelines in the summer did give a chance for two runs to be held. On 16th July Jonathan Bird organised a most interesting and attractive route through South Gloucestershire and the Vale of Berkeley along beautiful and truly rural lanes and 28 cars, complete with drivers and navigators, covered the 41 miles from Alveston to Tortworth Farm Shop for lunch. The event provided good company, great views and even a visit to a classic car restoration workshop and garage. The other event was organised by Duncan White in August, when 17 cars met at the Blue Bowl Pub car park before setting off on a 40 mile drive along the edge of the Mendips , up and down gorges , over the Mendips on little known roads, through Blagdon and Nempnett Thrubwell before lunching at the Chew Lake Park picnic area. Both days were blessed with lovely sunny weather , cars and drivers all socially distanced, and we all agreed that luckily we had at least two runs to enjoy this year. Duncan White

AVIAN FEATHERS REPORT The Avians managed five trips before lockdown occurred in March - to the Wildfowl and Wetlands (WWT) reserve at Steart, to New Passage /Pilning Wetlands; to Portbury Wharf; to WWT Slimbridge; and finally in February 2020 to Cotswold Water Park. Currently, just over 30 members are on the Avians list but, on all trips, partners are welcome to attend and many do. Typically, 20 or so make up the number on a trip and it is intended to start a new programme as soon as possible in light of Covid restrictions. Michael Newstead

A LIFE OF RILEY 1991: Sitting in the Wigwam, sporting a mint red feather, staring about me, Dennis Lewis mounts the platform and calls for attention. I can still hear his words: 'This evening we have a new artist member, John Shipley, he has a vintage car, would John stand up please?' Flutter of applause. Thus, was I embraced into The Tribe. 1964: I was drawn towards the 1934 Riley MPH (JH9506) as featured in Batsford's Classic Cars in Colour. Elsewhere the motor historian Mark Gillis was to write, 'The MPH was fitted with one of the most beautiful bodies ever to grace an English sports car' and together with his colleague Michael Sedgwick (remembered as curator of the National Motor Museum) suggesting it 'The most beautiful car of the era.' Even so, while arguably a head-turner, there was no question that it possessed the engineering and competition pedigree to match its looks. 1969: Billed as ex Hawthorn, ex Flockhart, the car re-surfaced in the classified columns of Motor-Sport. Voyeur became action man. A deal was struck and, it entrusted to a kindred spirit, I followed my prize home through a Cotswold monsoon, while its dinky rear wings subjected me to a private water feature all the way back to Totterdown. Our having achieved halting progress into the city's evening rush, we were, literally, forestalled by a pop-up traffic policeman. 'Is this your car, Sir?' - (Here we go, the measured civility, the hand instinctively moving to un-button the top pocket) 'Can we help you, Officer?' But lo - and it came to pass that, miraculously, here made flesh, was the district secretary of the Riley Register who, instanter, had identified the model and could not contain himself. Thus, I became inducted into Noggins and Natters at The Rose of Denmark to acknowledge myself a complete dummy when arcane items passed around like fragments from a reliquary and to discover the Wiggle-Woggel as legitimate automotive choreography. Comfortably stabled, my candidate was given a formal re-examination by the Vintage Sports Car Club and, it being of the Coventry generation, qualified within the exclusive shortlist Post-Vintage Thoroughbred, and thus my passport to its charmed circle. The type was one of a round dozen commissioned to campaign the Blue Diamond's 1.5 litre 6 powerplant in trial, hill climb, rally or endurance race - as in the 1934 Le Mans 24 Hours, 4when, from a field of 44 starters, two examples chased a surviving 2.5 litre 8 Alfa to capture second and third placings overall. Wedded to the Wilson preselective epicyclic gearbox, this (1633cc) engine featured crossflow head and hemispherical combustion chambers, with camshafts high on the cylinder block activating inclined valves via short pushrods. It was a configuration inviting

development - as then being supercharged in the E R A voiturette to snap at the heels of Hitler's

surgery was not before time as I confess it had been my practise to exercise the car by running

awesome Silver Arrows at the 1938 Donington Grand Prix.

a plastic tube from an open can wedged in the hood compartment, Kamikaze fashion.

Upon release to privateers, the machine offered over 85mph for £500. One imagined this

One day the City Fathers let us know that they were going to knock our house down. We

example found its way to a rich boy, who had replaced the manufacturer's own wind-cheating 5

thought it expedient to move on. Our salesman friend helpfully undertook to run the car to

inch diameter headlamps for modish Marchals - so giving its pilot the impression of the Queen

Clevedon on his plates and we, like concerned parents in a new district, anxious to secure a

Mary in tow to Mickey Mouse. By the same token, but representing mute essay upon The

place for our charge in a good local reformatory. It was then that I was happily buttonholed by

Image and The Reality, non-standard air horns would promise a right royal fanfare, yet deliver

a mature retainer from Ian Swift's Clevedon garage who, bright of eye, informed me that, only

the impression of a cow in labour.

the previous week, he had been called upon to re-wind a coil! Thus, the car won new friends.

It so happened that the previous summer, the MG main distributor, Clifton's Windmill and

It emerged that, due to an over-thick paint job, some flexing at the front wings had

Lewis, had granted their salesman leave to 'run in' a new motor for us by way of our inviting he

occasioned flaking reticulation and further scrutiny advised going right down back to basics.

and his wife to share a weekend's hospitality at our pied-a-terre up on the North East Coast -

From about five definitive claimants to British Racing Green, we found the one that we were

then to row our fatigued Austin Somerset back to Bristol on a wayward column change. That

looking for - with a soupcon towards the blue edge of the spectrum and, in counterpoint, chose

interlude proved to establish an amusing and mutually advantageous association.

the wires and exposed chassis members to be dressed in silver Hammerite as on just the right

Upon the advent of Riley, they appointed their avuncular, Rolls-Royce trained, chief

side of shiny - a metallic finish unfamiliar to the spray shop but, indulging the client, it was to

mechanic as its minder. 'The last time I worked on machinery like this, Mr Shipley, it was back

earn their approval. I well remember my being conducted back into the main works to view the

in the days when the foreman used to hit me over the head!'

completed effect, Shock Horror! In no way is this B R G. Calm, calm, take deep breaths, deep,

As the company segued into Lex Bristol there became some involvement with the new

deep regular breaths. Now, observe, we stand directly beneath a sodium bulb. Transferred into

corporate image and I remember being engaged to create a light-hearted flyer/map confirming

sunlight, there - just as new occupants may re-decorate - was conjured-up that strange alchemy

their trade stand to be unquestionably The premier attraction ever to embellish a forthcoming

that can mark a property as really one's own.

Bath and West Show. Coincidentally, subscribers to the Evening Post were to be enchanted by

Back home, augmenting the learning curve, it was attracting acolytes bearing gifts of

a photo opportunity wherein car and keeper were graced by the attention of a leggy Miss Motor

knowledge, skill and aptitude. Lucky me, for it transpired that, possibly due to some ghost of

Show. One does what one can.

the residue factor, I needed to make a call upon my pit crew to address a seized-up engine. The

It came to suggest a unique interpretation of the concept: The Car as Applied Sculpture,

game plan involved a measured dose of paraffin into each sparkplug hole - sealed with a

when Riley was co-opted to attend the Lex Bristol launch of the new-look Rover - a junket to

stopper of Kleenex tissue. Replacement water, just off the boil from a Primus stove, heated the

bury the marque's erstwhile 'Auntie' image as redolent of bank managers and funeral directors.

engine block and to be run through its coolant passages until emerging from the drain tap with

To a presentation by Raymond Baxter, it was patent that new, younger money was being

no loss in temperature. Meanwhile, my key role was to be balanced upon the starting handle,

targeted and there exemplified by the grooming, the tailoring and the WAGS of the Bristol City

there to perform free balletic movement, under supervision,

Football squad. A primary school mistress, very little was to escape beneath my wife's radar

In the fullness of time, Hurrah! and all soon back in place. A tweak to the ignition, push on

and she became quite miffed upon noting our car's footwells and running boards appropriated

the button - Music! Quadrant slotted to first, handbrake off, its Go! Go! Go! It was then the

as novel depositaries for the evening's discarded glassware.

support party became embraced in what may well have been a unique digestive phenomenon

Meanwhile, back at the workshop, with British Museum fidelity, the serpentine fuel line had been replicated and plumbed-in with a Malplassi Filter King fuel regulator and (don't try this at home) the tank cut open to eradicate a toxic cocktail of residual impurities. This

as, from out the tail pipe, there issued a stream of incandescent confetti. Becoming emboldened, I ventured to stone the terminals of the Scintilla Vertex Magneto but, considering it expedient to take out insurance against discovering useful bits left over, adapted the modus operandi favoured by brave boffins opening-up strange explosive devices.

Every move was logged, not down a telephone line, but here via the conventions of the strip cartoon. Totally absorbed, an intimidating critical path growing the length of the rocker box, a shadow fell upon it (and I mean that) - it belonged to my garage landlord. Straightaway I launched into an account of the procedure, just as though I knew what I was about. Perhaps not au fait with my actual trade, his manner became quite deferential. He lingered for a few attentive moments and then took his leave. Again, Hurrah! for, at the back of my mind, I had been aware that, having somehow assumed pole position in his matchwood tinderbox, there shone the paraffin tin perched upon the Primus stove, to perhaps suggest this tenancy be brought up for review? Entertaining the notion that everything had been fettled, coincided with a state visit from my mother. It seemed appropriate to invite her for a spin and see what she would make of the car. Came the opportunity and she met her situation in sensible clothes, the head cocooned in a headscarf as being practical (if, perhaps, just a tad suggestive of Japan's Divine Wind) whilst altogether giving an impression that, as a young lady, she had breezed through somesuch experience before. A brisk outing to a characterful watering hole, The Black Horse in Gordano, seemed appropriate as we knew the guvnor to give us a smile of welcome, in rather suspecting our patronage lent his car park a little sprinkling of Genevieve Stardust. Tucked behind her aero screen in the buffeting slipstream, six cylinders on song, the gear bands howling at her feet, sans seatbelt, mother seemed pretty cool. For a moment I speculated upon what she may be making of all this and imagined perhaps she transported back to intrepid Mary Pickford's time, in some flickering adventure film? I was soon to find out. Kerbangittybang! Although the engine never missed a beat, I would allow this radiated the acoustic assurance of a very expensive noise. Mother was indeed pretty cool - I was shot a glance and, as a Mary Pickford manifestation, I could read her lips. 'Something', she declared, 'has dropped off!' Readers would be aware that roadmen are able to seat a manhole cover in such a way that if it is approached correctly, will trigger a robust, unmusical report - but mother was not to know that. Our accomplished editor, and encyclopaedic connoisseur of automotive style, has just completed a scale replica of the 1934 Riley MPH - surely no more fitting an endorsement. John Shipley

IT IS HARD TO LOOK SMART DURING LOCKDOWN. It's hard to look smart during Lockdown. It's a job to appear debonair, For, try as one might, it is not a good sight, with two months of overgrown hair. It's a trial to look chic during lockdown, to exude an aura of charm and seem at one's ease while having to sneeze into the crook of one's arm. It is hard to have style during lockdown, yet one tries when push comes to shove. But an elegant cuff just isn’t enough when wearing a surgical glove. It's best not to look in the mirror if lockdown has made you grow fat. Try growing a beard although it looks weird and I fear it might frighten the cat. And so to look "fetching" in lockdown might prove a difficult task. It's so hard to ooze sex with steaming-up specs worn over a hideous face mask. By Alan Shellard.

Alma Mater Bristoliensis

The Eberle Portrait By Brother Savage CHARLES WELLS.

RING, Bell of Bristol, blithe and gay, Great George of Bristol, ring God's blessing on

this glorious day,

UTTING a name underneath the reproduction of the Portrait by the President of our beloved Brother Savage

God's blessing on our King. Ring for the wealth

seems as superfluous as saying, " This is a horse," or " This is a joke," under the efforts of—well, you know who.

so nobly spent, The hopes that conquered fears, Ring for the

But in persuading Brother Savage Alderman James Fuller Eberle to allow his portrait to be painted, the

Savages did the right thing by him and by themselves. What his work has been for them, what it still is, no single

proud accomplishment

Savage can adequately estimate. " Charlie " came as near to it as anybody is likely to get—Charlie and the

That crowns the toil of years !

President, on the night of the presentation. . The hoped-for has happened. The Portrait is to remain in the Wigwam. It was, perhaps, a selfish hope, but how verv natural !

Come, then, all ye whose life is young,

We in the Wigwam know " J.F.E." as a Savage and best beloved of Savages. But others know him as a

For you this great day calls, It is for you the

City Alderman, Chairman of the Museum and Art Gallery Committee, coaxing people to make gifts to the Museum,

Bell is rung,

or the Gallery ; and who can refuse him ? ; encouraging art purchases out of the too limited civic funds ; ever

For you these splendid Halls. And as you lift

scheming to make the Institution over which he presides a credit to his City. One of his principal interests is

your wondering eyes

Bristoliana, and nobody knows or will know how much the City is indebted to him for countless " Bits of Old Bristol,"

On window, arch and wall, Pray God to bless

books, pictures, maps, manuscripts, furniture, medals, and many other curios. A look round the Wigwam and the

the good and wise,

Red Lodge is sufficient to indicate his extraordinary fondness for historic Bristol. He saved the Red Lodge from

Who planned and gave it all!

destruction. But for him that Oak Room might now have been in a New York millionaire's gorgeous mansion. Think

See where the loving Mother stands,

of it ! It's unthinkable.

It is for you she waits, Wisdom and Knowledge

Of course he ought to have been Lord Mayor of Bristol years ago, and that he has not been is simply

in her hands,

because of his modest}-. He has been Councillor and Alderman for the better part of forty years, and his colleagues in

And peace within her gates. Kneel at her feet,

all parties would have rejoiced if at any time he could have seen his way to go into the chair. But if he has not been

look in her eyes,

in the chair he has long been the confidential friend, adviser and helper of those who did fill it. " When in doubt send

Take all she has for you, Learn on her lips the

for Eberle," has been the Lord Mayors' motto for years.

mysteries

Really so far as this page is concerned the title of our wonderful publication is wrong. We ought to have

That make the old world new.

changed it to " Sunny Jim " for this occasion.

Then when your life-work cometh due, And to that work ye go, Carry the torch She lit for you,

At a time when we have changed the name of our Society let us not forget all the efforts of our great Benefactor James Fuller Eberle, affectionately known as “Bongie”

See that it burns not low. March with her spirit in your eyes, Work out her glorious plan, One hope, one faith, one enterprise, The betterment of Man ! FRED. E. WEATHERLY.

DRAWN BY A. C. FARE.

SOME (BROADLY) ARTISTIC QUOTATIONS There are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and the smirk Charles Dickens (Nicholas Nickleby) My favourite poem is the one that starts “Thirty days hath September”, because it actually tells you something Groucho Marx Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art Tom Stoppard (Artist Descending a Staircase) It is a symbol of Irish art. The crooked looking glass of a servant James Joyce (Ulysses) It was a cute picture. They used the basic story of Wuthering Heights and worked in surf riders Neil Simon (Last of the Red Hot Lovers) For many years a secret shame destroyed my peace I’d not read Eliot. Auden or MacNeice But then I had a thought that brought me hope Neither had Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton or Pope Justin Richardson (Take Heart Illiterates) He knew everything about literature except how to enjoy it Joseph Heller (Catch 22) I don’t care what is written about me so long as it isn’t true Dorothy Parker “Classic” – a book which people praise and don’t read Mark Twain

THE SOUND OF MUSIC From an early age I've always enjoyed listening to many types of music and have been interested in the machines that play them. I learnt to play the recorder when I was 8 years old at school and managed to master a few basic tunes - in fact I've still got my instruction manual. In about 1952, my father brought home an HMV wind up portable gramophone with a pile of 78 records. They were all pre-war dance band and novelty songs, plus George Formby, Bing Crosby, Glenn Miller etc. These were good fun, but were easily broken, damaged and rather worn. At this time, popular music on the wireless was mainly confined to the Light Programme with programmes such as Housewives Choice, Music While You Work,, and Family Favourites, etc. I realised that most of the music I really liked came from America and in the mid 1950's my favourites included Frank Sinatra (my favourite of all time because his songs have been with me my whole life time) plus Johnnie Ray, Frankie Laine, Guy Mitchell, Doris Day, etc. 1955/56 were big years for popular music- it was when Elvis Presley and Rock 'n Roll were new and exciting. I discovered new sounds coming from America, rather than the more old fashioned music we heard here from the likes of Dickie Valentine, Ruby Murray, and Frankie Vaughan. What most people didn't realise was that many of their recordings were copies of original American hits, but often released months later. I bought a few records whilst I was at school, but at 6/8d each for a single and not much pocket money, they were rather a luxury. An old friend reminded me that in late 1957,1 had advertised records for sale on the school notice board (I had to sell some to afford new ones!). I listened to Radio Luxembourg and AFN (American Forces Network). This station transmitted from Stuttgart for the American Forces bases in Germany. They played the latest music as well as radio shows and commentaries of baseball and football games. Strangely enough, at the same time I really loved dance bands from the swing era, like Harry James, Artie Shaw and Benny Goodman. These could be heard on short wave radio for an hour or so most evenings from the Voice of America, which had a powerful transmitter in Tangier. I had always wanted a saxophone, but as they were very expensive I ended up with a clarinet, which I tried to play but with not the greatest of success. About 50 years later I did buy one with the intention of learning (but sad to say I ended up spending more time looking at it than actually practising) By 1957 the family had a large Decca radiogram, and it could play all sorts and speeds of records. My record collection increased! Around this time, I bought a second-hand guitar and managed to play about four chords, hoping to play skiffle like Lonnie Donegan! - but methinks I was just Putting on the Style! I had also made a record, which had no backing... It was cut directly on to acetate on aluminium, which is still in my possession today (recorded at Stan's Record Shop in Denmark Street). Tape recorders always intrigued me and in May 1959 with my life savings of £40 I bought a 2nd hand TK8 Grundig so I could record all my favourite music. I still have some of these early tapes. Portable personal transistor radios had become popular by this time too (October 1959) and I bought a Pye Portable for 14 guineas. It was small and could fit in my pocket and be taken and played anywhere. I had several small portables, but my favourite from the 1960s was a very expensive Zenith Transoceanic model which had FM-LW-MW and six shortwave channels, it was possible to listen to music from all over the world, was made in the USA and was advertised in National Geographic Magazine. By this time I had acquired a pretty good knowledge of popular music and jazz and in 1964 won two major prizes (from Melody Maker), one of which was an amplifier and the other a guitar, both of which would be worth thousands of pounds today if I had still kept them!

Always trying to improve my sound equipment, I progressed from a radiogram to a stereo record player and then in 1970 to one of the first Bang and Olufsen systems sold in Bristol. It was purchased from Sound Selection of Bristol (whose shop name was used on my suggestion). Driving many thousands of miles a year and therefore spending much of the time in the car, as well as having a radio, I rigged up a Phillips portable cassette recorder - this was several years before they became standard in cars. Another car radio I owned was an Autovox which enabled me to record directly from the radio into the tape recorder.in the dashboard. I haven't seen one of these for ages. I have still part of the tape of the final hour from the Pirate radio ship (Radio London) broadcast on August 14th 1967, when the Marine Offences became law and the Postmaster General Tony Benn closed it down! On the vintage side I have owned an Edison Gem cylinder player (dating from about 1905), and a horn gramophone from about ten years later. One of my favourite radios which I used to own was the black, circular, bakelite and chrome A22 Ekco from 1945, designed by Wells-Coates. It is reckoned to be one of the most desirable and iconic radios made. Many 78s dating from the early 1900s are still in my collection and these include some British Dance Bands e.g. -Jack Hylton, Ambrose, Roy Fox, Al Bowley, etc. (PS.. if you want to hear King George Vs message to the Empire in the 1930s, I've got a copy!). Some of my favourite music came from these times, especially Busby Berkeley musicals, e.g. Gold Diggers from 1933, 42nd Street, Dames, ,etc plus the music from Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films. I also still love the many colourful Hollywood Musicals from the '1950s and 60s, including -Singing in the Rain, South Pacific , West Side Story, Carousel and Oklahoma. In the mid-1960s, with the growth of British Beat music, I saw and met many of the now famous pop groups and solo artists appearing at the Corn Exchange and Colston Hall including The Rolling Stones, Searchers, Rod Stewart, Tom Jones and The Animals, (never seeing The Beatles though). American and Blues singers came to Bristol too and I met Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf and I also saw Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry, The Everly Brothers, and many others and later, the Duke Ellington Orchestra. I also used to review records for Western Scene which was a Bristol Music magazine. Probably, I'm likely to be the only person with a complete set of these rare publications! Modern Jazz, including Miles Davis and MJQ, and also some Traditional Jazz are also in my collection. The Avon Cities Jazz Band means something special to me as I met my wife Janet, at the Worrall Rooms, Clifton in late 1959. The band used to hold a session there on Friday evenings The Blue Notes at the Ship Inn and Grand Spa Ballroom were also good musical venues. (I wasn't much good at ballroom dancing though - obviously, I didn't have enough Victor Sylvester Records to be able to practice.) As a teenager I sometimes went to the Glen (now the Spire!) where you could 'dance' to the latest records. Disc jockeying briefly at Cadbury Court Country Club in 1969 brought me the amazing sum of £3 per night! (and I was expected to pay for my own petrol!) Although being so enthusiastic about popular music I also love classical music in the same way, having a pretty good collection of these records too. My favourite composers include Rachmaninov, Debussy, Ravel, Vaughan Williams, Elgar, and Sibelius, amongst others Many people seem to have not only got rid of their vinyl records but their record player as well! Even CD players are getting outdated in cars and homes. I have kept many of my records - even those that were bought sixty plus years ago and still enjoy finding old forgotten ones. Music of all types has been one of my greatest pleasures. Bruce Perrott

THE THIEF OF TIME

On the day I went into self-isolation I vowed not to squander this forced hibernation and do something useful with my situation and write down a long list for consideration. A long list of jobs which through procrastination I kept putting off for the longest duration. So the first thing to do was avoid the temptation to watch the T.V or use the play-station. I could clean out the garage as my first motivation, and see where that leak had gained penetration. or dead-head the flowers on my little plantation, or see to the spare room which needs renovation, I could oil my front door with some fine lubrication or reply to a card from a distant relation. So I'm going to be busy as busy can be But first I will just have a nice cup of tea. Now feeling refreshed there's no more postponing the D.I.Y skills I need to be honing but first there are friends I ought to be phoning because if I don't they are bound to start moaning. How people will talk when I need to get going with sorting out seeds which I ought to be sowing, or trimming the hedge which is constantly growing, not to mention the grass that badly needs mowing and I really must tackle the weeds which need hoeing and I see that the gutter is now over-flowing. This number of tasks is really mind-blowing. But just where to start, that is the crunch. Good heavens, I see it is now time for lunch. It's easy to see with the aid of hindsight for lunch I should really have had something light but Ham, Egg and Chips is such a delight and I could not resist, hard as I might, Apple crumble and custard , a glorious sight, and a morsel of cheese , no more than a bite,

and coffee to finish always seems right. so here I am ready to fight the good fight and tackle that list with all of my might, But after a meal, it doesn't seem right to leap into action without some respite, To get indigestion would not be very bright, anyhow I feel sleepy, so I think that I might, close my eyes for a moment and rest from the light, Then I'll be ready to, at last, expedite the afore-mentioned tasks I've tried to high-light. Yet I fear from my window it's not looking too bright, and there's only a couple of hours of daylight. And so I have to admit with some sorrow, I'm not going to start these jobs till tomorrow. By Alan Shellard

SNAPPERS REPORT

Like all other social groups, the Snappers were obliged to curtail the majority of their planned meetings and activities for the year. However, they were able to start the year with their usual January visit to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the M-Shed. Eleven Snappers attended and the quality and diversity of the displayed photographs were much appreciated with the technical details being explored and discussed over post tour coffee and snacks. As soon as the socially restrictive measures were relaxed, a field visit to Portishead Marina and Harbour was organized. On a beautifully sunny September day six Snappers, Bill Philips, Graham Evans, Bob Pigott, Davina Hockin, Roger Bonner and Jonathan Bolgar, and four spouses, all suitably distanced, took the opportunity of a bright sunny day to capture the majesty of modern architecture, works of art and marine craft all made even more photogenic by way of them being wonderfully reflected in the still harbour waters. After several hours of wandering and snapping the group convened in a local hostelry for a relaxed lunch. Later that week, Snapper Tony Lavelle, having been concerned about meeting in groups, took the opportunity of the continuing early autumn sunshine to emulate the bigger group’s activities. The best images of the seven participating Snappers was shared with the full photographic group byway of a virtual Snappers Meeting a few weeks later. Throughout the lockdown the Snappers have contributed to the fortnightly Smoke Signals with a montage or slide show of photographs that amply demonstrates the wide range of interests and skill levels of the membership. Roger Bonner and Jonathan Bolgar

THE ROMANTIC POETS IN BRISTOL

STUART EDWARDS -A TRIBUTE I am told that Stuart showed interest in music from an early age. His first instrument was a piano accordion but because of health issues he was advised to take up a blowing instrument to strengthen his lungs. He chose the clarinet and having quickly mastered this, he added the alto saxophone. His father was a master model maker at Pinewood Film Studios and Stuart’s first employment was in the film industry. However, he had ambitions to become an architect and joined a London practice. In his late teens he played in, and later ran, The Blue Ramblers Dance Band which featured music for ballroom dancing. In spite of this band’s popularity, Stuart accepted an invitation to join a well-established semi-professional band playing at many prestigious venues in and around London. By the late 1950s his music demands were interfering with his architectural studies and so he joined a small band run by our now Honorary member, Tony Walkley. On qualifying as an architect, he was set for a career in London until he was asked to set up a practice in Bristol. This move meant farewell to his band playing. However, thankfully for our Tribe, this was by no means the end of his musical journey After some years of settling in to work and family life in Bristol, Stuart phoned Tony Walkley out of the blue to explain that he had been proposed (by me as it happens!) to audition for Blue Feather Membership of Bristol Savages and asked for help with piano accompaniment. The tune he had chosen was no other than Harlem Nocturne, which he later performed many times on the alto sax, and which became synonymous with Stuart. Once a Blue Feather, Stuart was soon to meet and play with fellow musicians including the trumpeter late Brother Savage Tony Day who held practice sessions at his home. It was these sessions that saw the beginnings of what was to become The Savages Swing Band. Stuart was an integral founder member of the band which richly entertained the Tribe on many occasions. A number of smaller Jazz groups flourished in which he played, including The Park Row Five. Stuart regularly attended Wednesday evenings, whether or not playing, but his individual and varied performances which continued well into his 90s were always played with supreme expertise and unique style and naturally always greatly enjoyed by one and all. What a difficult act to follow! Tim Stevenson

On Tuesday 7th April 2020, the Royal Mail issued ten new first class postage stamps to mark the 250th anniversary to the very day of the birth of William Wordsworth. The stamps in fact commemorate the Romantic Poets as a group and include from the first generation of Romantic poets (1798) Samuel Taylor Coleridge, William Blake and William Wordsworth. And from the second generation (1820) Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron and John Keats are recognised. Bristol was central to the Romantic Movement as we will see later. Romanticism is the term that historians have given to a movement of cultural change that swept across Europe in the late C18th and early C19th. This coincided with developments like the French Revolution and in Britain the Industrial Revolution and the birth of mass urbanisation. The movement showed an interest in the Gothic, Medieval art, and nature. It was a movement in which poetry played a major role in changing people’s attitudes towards the natural world, childhood, and the very idea of self-expression.

Coleridge’s Frost at Midnight (1798) touches on the theme of nature and the countryside, as the poet reflects on his own childhood and the hope that his own son will be brought up in the country. ‘The frost performs its secret ministry Unhelped by any wind’ Frost at Midnight

Coleridge 1795

Wordsworth’s The Rainbow (1802), is a short ode to the natural phenomenon which sees Wordsworth marvel at the striking colours in the sky. ‘My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky’ The Rainbow

William Wordsworth, who became Poet Laureate in 1843, was regarded as the greatest poet of his age. Born at Cockermouth in the Lake District, he wrote his poetry out of his childhood memories and the people, the communities and the landscapes of his home territory. After his parents died, he was sent to the Grammar School in the village of Hawkshead, where his love of the hills and lakes was born. Romanticism was above all a return to nature.

Wordsworth 1798

One of the German Romantics wrote of a “declaration of the rights of human feeling”, implying a revolution of the emotions to match the rights of man proclaimed by the American and French Revolutions. This was also the era when the British slave trade was abolished and the rights of women were voiced by Mary Wollstonecraft, the mother of Mary Shelley who wrote Frankenstein, the great Romantic Gothic novel, and of course the mother-in-law of the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Bristol born Mary Robinson’s Ode to the Snowdrop (1806) is similar in sentiment to Wordsworth’s The Rainbow, this time paying homage to the beauty and vulnerability of the winter flower. A celebrity of her day, Robinson was also an actress, poet, dramatist and novelist, and wrote a number of feminist essays in her later years. During her lifetime she was known as "the English Sappho” and “Perdita”. She was the first public mistress of King George IV while he was still Prince of Wales.

Mary Robinson by Gainsborough 1781

‘The Snowdrop,

During the Romantic period (1780-1830) Bristol was, as the second city in England after London, an exciting place, the city having a vigorous cultural and intellectual life. There was a strong tradition of political and religious dissent, with 20% of the population being nonconformist. There was always a ready audience for unconventional ideas. Bristol had newspapers, publishing houses, coffee-houses, meeting rooms, theatres, lending libraries and a Philosophical and Literary Society, all providing a fertile ground for debate. It was fortunate in producing, or attracting, a series of talented writers and thinkers. Sadly, the selection of poets recognised by the Royal Mail neglects to mention the Bristol born poets Thomas Chatterton and Robert Southey. Of all English poets, Thomas Chatterton seemed to his great Romantic successors most to typify a commitment to the life of imagination. His poverty and untimely death represented the martyrdom of the poet by the materialistic society of his time. This year is also the 250th anniversary of the death of Chatterton in a London garret aged just seventeen.

‘I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side: By our own spirits are we deified: We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness’. Resolution and Independence (1802) by William Wordsworth Thomas Chatterton 1770

Thomas Chatterton (1752 – 1770) was born at the schoolmaster’s house on Pile Street, now Redcliffe Way, opposite St Mary Redcliffe. His father who died three months before his birth was Master of Pile Street School. There is a plaque on the house to commemorate the ‘boy poet’. Chatterton’s writing was inspired by the Gothic beauty of St Mary Redcliffe. Chatterton, whose forged medieval poems intrigued and scandalised the literary world, became an icon of neglected genius.

‘O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!

Winter’s timid child

Sure thou would'st spread the canvas to the gale’,

Awakes to life,

Monody On The Death Of Chatterton (1790) by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

bedew’d with tears’

‘O Chatterton! how very sad thy fate! Dear child of sorrow -- son of misery!’

Ode to the Snowdrop by Mary Robinson Whenever we gain refreshment from a walk in the country, or take joy in the sight of a beautiful view or the sound of birdsong, we are in debt to the Romantics. In the time of the Coronavirus lockdown, many folks have found solace, peace and strength in poetry and in the wonders and beauty of the natural world.

Sonnet to Chatterton (1815) by John Keats

Robert Southey was born in 1774 at 9 Wine Street above his linen draper father’s shop. The building was destroyed in the WW2 Blitz; again, a plaque commemorates the site. Southey published poems and plays reflecting his radical political views and support for the French Revolution. He was a prolific letter writer, literary scholar, essay writer, historian and biographer. The 1918 film Nelson was based on Southey’s very popular biography of Horatio Nelson. He became a pillar of the establishment being Poet Laureate for thirty years (18131843). He was also an author of children’s stories including The Three Bears. When Samuel Taylor Coleridge was a Cambridge undergraduate, he met Southey, another budding poet in Oxford and later he moved to Bristol and shared lodgings with him at 25 College Street. They shared similar political and philosophical views and had plans with other friends to emigrate to America and form a utopian communelike society called Pantisocracy in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. In 1795 to raise money for this project Coleridge gave a series of three public lectures at the Corn Market (no longer there) in Wine Street. As a supporter of the French Revolution these lectures attacked Pitt’s government and condemned the war against France. Southey 1795

Southey later joined Coleridge to deliver more lectures condemning the slave trade and comparing the English Civil War with the French Revolution. Another Bristol born poet Robert Lovell was also involved with the Pantisocracy project. His wealthy Quaker family had disowned him for marrying, in 1794, Mary Fricker, a girl of much beauty and some talent, who had gone on the stage. Southey also became engaged to another Fricker sister, Edith. When Coleridge first arrived in Bristol, he joined Lovell, Southey, and three of the Fricker sisters at a lively family party at Lovell’s house on College Green. Another sister Sarah Fricker was also present and soon Coleridge was engaged to her. Within a few weeks of each other, Coleridge married Sarah and then Southey married Edith at St Mary Redcliffe. Lovell introduced Southey and Coleridge to their patron Joseph Cottle who was a publisher, bookseller and poet. His shop stood on at the corner of Corn Street and High Street. There is a red plaque high up on the current building. He published Poems on Various Subjects Coleridge’s first major collection, which includes four sonnets by Charles Lamb. Cottle next undertook the financing and publication of Coleridge's short-lived periodical, ‘The Watchman’ (1796), which contained explicitly political material, such as attacking the slave trade and the alliance of church and state power. Cottle also commissioned and printed Lyrical Ballads, a collection of poems by Coleridge and Wordsworth, which includes one of Coleridge’s most famous works, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798).In 1798 William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy visited Bristol to see Lyrical Ballads come to press. They stayed with the publisher Joseph Cottle in Wine Street. During that stay they visited Tintern and as they later walked down Park Street, returning to Cottle’s house, Wordsworth composed the last passage of Lines written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a tour July 13, 1798, a poem which encapsulates his philosophy of nature.

‘That after many wanderings, many years

of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves, and for thy sake’. This poem was probably completed at Cottle’s home and it was the last one in Lyrical Ballads. Thomas Beddoes, a physician, and Professor of Chemistry at Oxford was keen to find a cure for tuberculosis (TB). His open adherence to radical politics made life difficult for him at the university. Charles Darwin’s grandfather Erasmus Darwin, a physician and poet, advised Beddoes to go the Hotwell near Bristol where there were many TB patients. From 1793 he started a clinic, in Hope Square, Hotwells, where he worked on finding a cure for TB. In 1798 he set up the Bristol Pneumatic Medical Institution, in Dowry Square, as a centre for free public medicine and research into diets, drugs and to test various gases for the treatment of TB. That same year a nineteen year old Cornishman Humphry Davy was appointed as the superintendent of the Institution. James Watt, known for his steam engine, built a portable gas chamber to facilitate Davy's experiments with the inhalation of nitrous oxide. Davy experimented with nitrous oxide (laughing gas) on both himself and friends and acquaintances. One was Southey who wrote to his brother “O, Tom! Such a gas Davy has discovered the gaseous oxide. I have had some; it made me laugh and tingle in every toe and finger-tip. Davy has actually invented a new pleasure, for which language has no name. I am going for more this evening! It makes one strong and happy! So gloriously happy!” Coleridge was one of those friends and was fascinated by the phenomenon and its psychosomatic (a term he coined) implications. He had in fact resorted to laudanum (tincture of opium) since his teenage years whenever he felt ill or anxious. Coleridge and Davy corresponded extensively sharing their ideas about poetry and science. Davy was also a poet writing over 160 poems which are found in his personal notebooks. Eight of his known poems were published. His poems reflected on his career and his perception of certain aspects of human life. He wrote on human endeavours and aspects of life like death, metaphysics, geology, natural theology and chemistry. Sir Humphry Davy 1821

The Pneumatic Institution was converted into a normal hospital when typhus broke out in Bristol in 1800. Davy left in 1801 to join Sir Joseph Banks at the Royal Institution in London. The Bristol Pneumatic Institution closed down in 1802. Many of the techniques and tools developed by Watt for the Pneumatic Institution are still used in modern medicine. Later in life Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey all moved to the Lake Distinct, which was where Wordsworth hailed from, and became known as the Lake Poets. On Southey’s death in

1843 Wordsworth became Poet Laureate. They were associated with several other poets and writers, including Dorothy Wordsworth, Charles Lamb, Mary Lamb, and Thomas De Quincey. The large city of Bristol, where there was a vigorous cultural and intellectual life, with a strong tradition of political and religious dissent, was thus a suitable environment for these young radical poets; Southey, Coleridge and Wordsworth. They spent a significant and important period of their creative life in this thriving second city of England, during what have been called unruly times.

The Wye

Paul Main

Y Ddraig" (The Dragon) Not far from the sea, beneath the hill, This dragon of Wales lies slumbering still. The beast feasts on metallic minerals raw Gorging them into its very soul. Its brain of magma and heart of roaring flame Courses blood of liquid steel through every vein. Its results blast vapours and fetid steam As it breathes in fuel through lungs that scream. It kills without moving and tortures the land Mountains crumble to dust, hills to sand. Trees, dying, with twisted limbs cringe in despair As the essence of death clouds the green air. This dragon, nourished and cherished with love And with care. By the people of Margam who imprison it there. To them, it is life and financial security -But theirs is "fools paradise" complete with impurity. Gerry Bessell

rollicks of youth, And the Wye, with its broad mirror surface of truth, Grows deep and deceptive, seductive and strong, Relentlessly, ruthlessly rolling along, Till at length in old age it grows tranquil instead, And lazily lies in its mud-bordered bed.

THE Wye is a wanderer, winding its way Through pastures where cowslips and buttercups play, Where velvety cows Contentedly browse ; Nor worry nor care Encounter one there. The pastures are green And the hills are serene Where the wandering WTye Goes murmuring by. The river for ever is flowing and flowing and flowing mehdiously by, The meandering wandering Wye.

The river at Rhayadar races along. By Builth it is still but a talkative song. Through Hay and through Hereford onward it goes, And it grows As it flows. Past the town of John Kyrle It continues to swirl, And where Harry of Monmouth, most valiant of kings, Heard its low liquid notes, there it still softly sings.

Its first tears emerge from its cradle in Wales Where its guardian, Plinlimmon, stands vested in veils Of moisture and mist. The baby is kisst By sunbeams and moonbeams and rainbows and rays. It bubbles and babbles and burbles its praise ; It is growing and flowing and flowing and growing, Now eddying, Now steadying, Now galumphing over weirs, Now rushing, Never hushing, Always something for the ears. It strengthens As it lengthens. Its waters grow wide. There is danger To the stranger Who is tempted to its tide. For gone arc the frolics and

The pastures are green And the hills are serene Where the wandering Wye Goes murmuring by. The river for ever is flowing and flowing and flowing melodiously by, The meandering, wandering Wye.

DOXALD HUGHES.

PAINTING ON THE EDGE A rewarding mistress, if sometimes fickle jade, the medium of watercolour emerged way back from the time of the pharaohs. This may go some way to explain why it can take an unconscionable time to dry when, unless effecting some granulation or wet on wet, one may resort to the hair dryer which can speed things up like a jet engine if, perhaps, generating a similar racket. As with printer's ink, transparent, its essential glow arises through actinic light bouncing back chromatic information from a ground chosen for its high reflective index. Thus, apart from some significant price differential, those seductive postcard reproductions in the gallery rack can score a point over many works there up on the wall! The tyro needs just one introductory demo termed 'Laying a Wash', after which one may venture very much on one's own. Splurge out far more liquid than the job requires and set the angle of approach to avoid 'runs'. Prior to taking the 'phone off the hook, programme one's sound system for Gregorian Chant [no sudden bangs] and think: 'Master chef preparing perfect souffle'. In this discipline one works, not jigsaw puzzle fashion, but back to front and from light to dark - No refined 'one coat covers any colour' housepaint here, or brushing in the bright parts as 'twere correction fluid, yet pressing on, wash on wash [but don't lose your head] one may engender riches. For the explorers, one could name names amongst the virtuosi. Arguably, to head up a shortlist of four, the peerless John Sell Cotman, traditionalist, yet innovator, of the Norwich School. Any attempt to articulate such work is pulling the wings off a bird in attempt to fathom the beauty of flight - better one's response confined to the feeling of gratitude. Closer to us [and putting aside any unfair association with the stairwell in Boots the Chemists] must stand Sir William Russell Flint. I remember a tutor who was admitted into Flint's studio wherein washes in progress were pegged-up on lines to dry. Student, look on his works, but do not despair. Then, with his output an enduring favourite, here to place textural, illustrative-designer Eric Ravilious. Alas, serving as a war artist, lost to us off Iceland when on patrol aboard one of those small Walrus aircraft that he so loved to draw. John Singer Sargent may be unexpected in this context, but he was two men. On the one hand we have practitioner of Leonardo's Cinquecento endowment sfumato, that so elevated portraiture from hack copywork to the realm of magic yet, while cataloguing the Belle Époque’s Haute Bourgeoisie, also author of 2000 watercolours. Each September he would pack his colour pans for Venice - there to seek refreshment, tuning-in for the wavelengths of her so fugitive 'Spirits of Place', happenstance and serendipity. On to adventure, requiring strategy, nerve, and the reflexes to dodge out of trouble. For any reader who, through a frustrated medical adviser, neurotic bank manager, family pressure, a little Anno Domini? or just downright bad luck, may be seriously considering giving up, say, motorcycle racing, then watercolour is waiting - or at least waiting to dry. John Shipley

How to become an Artist BY X.Y.Z.

The first necessity towards becoming an artist is to dress the part properly. Here again we may sub-divide the artists. The portrait man will probably wear a velvet jacket and a pair of striped trousers. He is the only type of artist who is allowed to use a trouser press. The general type will wear a smock and a pair of flannel bags. He would as soon think of having a crease in these as he would think of wearing a white tie with a dinner jacket. On occasion you will see an artist wearing plus fours. This at once denotes the plutocrat. No man can possibly expect to get the right atmosphere for painting in plus fours, and the fact that he possesses such garments at once suggests that he has two suits, an unmistakable sign of plutocracy. The tie is an important part of an artist's dress. It must never be the ordinary sailor knot. This sort of tie is clearly the preogative of the ordinary common or garden man. To attempt to paint a picture in an ordinary tie would be akin to reading Hamlet without the Prince, or the Iliad without Achilles. Let it be be clearly understood, therefore, that the proper sort of tie is a bow tie. Respect for your intelligence prevents me emphasizing the necessitv of the artist tving it himself. A made up tie ! ! The Gods forbid ! Having disposed of the question of dress, let me say a word or two about materials. A quantity of charcoal is required to get your rough outlines. The best charcoal is obtained by burning corks, and every self-respecting artist soon acquires a good quantity of corks. A few pieces of paper are, of course, necessary, likewise a supply of canvas. The former you use for water colours, and the latter for oil colours. An artist soon acquires the knowledge of exactly how much water is necessary; he should also be able to know the proper meaning of the expression " well oiled." You will, of course, require a paint brush, although I am told several artists put colour on with a knife. This applies to oil colours, and when you see a picture done by this method you are somewhat confused as to whether the picture is well oiled or whether the expression can be employed to yourself. With this type of picture, you should first satisfy yourself that you are looking at it right side up. I have known very bitter arguments take place about this kind of picture till some experienced artist came along and quietly suggested that the picture was upside down.

NE has only to glance at the pages of any modern magazine to realise how easy it is to become anything one desires. For example, if my wife wishes a sideboard made. I have only to send threepence, and a little booklet will arrive showing me exactly how it should be made. I have but to study this booklet, and I will quite easily be able to make a beautiful sideboard. Should I wish to become an accountant, several schools are only too willing to correspond with me, and " put me wise." Indeed, I am lured to study by the prospect of being able one day to rush home to my wife and say, " I was made manager to-day." My magazine also tells me how easily I could learn to draw, but no one seems willing to teach me how to paint. This distresses me, as it is my ambition to rush home some day and say to the partaker of my joys and sorrows, " The Savages bought my picture to-day." I am, however, an observant creature and have acquired by observation several things which go to becoming an artist. For the benefit of those who may have desires similar to mine, I most cheerfully give them the result of my observations. Roughly speaking, there are two kinds of artists—those who draw, and those who paint. One can easily become the former ; all that is required is a short postal course in drawing, an Eversharp pencil, and a few pieces of paper. In sooth, it is too simple to write about . The painter chaps, however, are much more interesting. Painters are also divided into two classes. There is first the type of man who paints portraits. He specialises in Lord Mayors and Superintendents of Sunday Schools. He it is who paints a picture entitled " Portrait of a Lady." In doing so, I always think he rather underrates his own art, or the intelligence of the public. One may criticise the colour of the nose as being hardly perhaps true to life, or the expression of the eye as being rather suggestive, but one can hardly mistake the portrait of a lady for, say, " High Water at Weston." No ! No! this type of artist does not take enough for granted. Now the second class of painter will paint anything. He possesses imagination far greater than his neighbour the portrait man. My ambitions lie in his direction.

How to become an Artist—continued orange beside a vase of flowers. A jar of celery is still life. Cheese would not pass as such. The subject being decided, all you have to do then is to paint it. Simplicity itself.

Having dressed your part, and obtained the necessary materials, you next choose your subject. " The Bath of Psyche " would, of course, be a subject for an advanced student, as it calls for certain experience. " Still Life " is an excellent subject. This can be got by placing an apple and

Savage Golf in 1923 Lansdown, in a suitable disguise. Their excuse was that their club was so short of members that they did not possess another playing team. They- might be able to raise a " B " side if we wished, but could not guarantee that they knew even the rudiments of the game. So we came to a compromise, after the way in which, as a nation, we have attained our heights of Imperial greatness, and agreed to play- on handicap. Even then, Bath won by two points. But what of that, so long as the social value of the game was upheld!

UPER-GOLF, by no stretch of the imagination, can be said to be a marked characteristic of Bristol Savages when at play. It is true that they are reluctant to admit they are not as good as anybody else when challenged to a game ; but, taken en masse, in toto or in bulk, their attitude is sympathetic to the golfing outlook of a local beginner who, having been introduced as a temporary member, was found in the club house by his introducer two hours later, soliloquising to a number of empty glasses, that although he might not know much about the game, it undoubtedly had its social side. It is the social qualities of golf that Bristol Savages are out tc cultivate, with only a moderate attention in these lean times to soliloquy at the nineteenth hole. I believe that one prominent Savage has a special brand of fire-water stored away in his country seat or club house, and after the Bath match I very nearly induced him to let me test its pre-war qualities. But a sudden change in the conversation, leading up to tea, has lefu me still expectant that when summer comes I may be more happily- placed, buried in the glass on a thirsty day, instead of being forced to be satisfied with a sniff of its palatable contents.

A Castellated Progress.

Having visited one castle, it was natural we should try to make a break in the walls of another : this should have been a comparatively simple matter when we went to Clevedon and did a war dance round the castle ruins on the bluff. It was later in the y-ear, when holiday-s were over, and no excuse can be offered for a second defeat, except to say that the margin of the Clevedon victory by one point does not convey any idea of the ill luck which dogged the footsteps of the Savage golfers, so many of whom would have won if they had only- known. All these blank memories are of the past, and the brighter outlook came when the Savages met the Doctors, in November, on neutral ground, and, taking men of a kindred trade unawares, simply- fell upon them and slew them by six matches to four. And it is pleasant to record that this gentle extermination was done w-ith so compassionate a touch that the social side of the meeting was still maintained. The social climax came, as in previous years, when at the Red Lodge all were invited, visiting victors or vanquished, to enjoy- a golfing night in the wig-wam, on a Wednesday night. Many took advantage of the invitation and came from afar, and helped to congratulate T. Scott-Hake, of Lansdown Golf Club, in winning the silver feather of the Savage golfing y-ear. By- a coincidence, another member of his clan took a prominent part in the congratulations—Gordon Hake, the artist president of the night, making the presentation. " BASHIE."

By Sham Castle.

This does not sound very sociable or hospitable —and to make a personal confession, it was the only-blot on a very pleasant day- when late in July, a team of Bristol Savages—marshalled by one Pezzack, laird of Carn-Pessack, of the Lizard, where dirks of the Bronze Age are to be found —and their savage implements scaled the heights of Sham Castle and ventured to the attack. Bath had been politely- asked to bring out a moderate team and were told in advance the handicaps of the players to meet them—Pezzack, as a matchmaker, should really- be more careful, and realise that the morale of the Sham Castle contingent immediately went mast high. Bath replied by-trotting out all the champions they could summon, short of bringing in C. A. Whitcomb from the opposite heights of

Lieutenant General Sir William Draper and his Memorial Monuments On Christchurch Green, very near to the church, are two unusual monuments. There is, more often than not, somebody taking a photograph of them or peering at the writing, trying to read the worn away English or to decipher the Latin prose. The monuments’ story is fascinating. William Draper (1721-1787) was born in Bristol, the son of a customs officer, and was educated initially at Bristol Cathedral School, later winning scholarships to Eton and King’s College, Cambridge. He was elected to a Fellowship at King’s, but chose a military rather than an academic career. Draper entered the army as an Ensign in a foot regiment and fought at Culloden and in Flanders. He was commissioned as a Lieutenant-Colonel and raised his own 79th Regiment of Foot to serve in the army of the East India Company during the Seven Years’ War. He commanded the force in the capture of Draper by Gainsborough 1682 the Spanish Colony of Manila in the Philippine Islands in 1762, with comparatively small losses on either side. On his return to England he built a small mansion, Manilla Hall, at Clifton in 1763 on land owned by the Society of Merchant Venturers. The house was built in neo-classical style with four massive columns supporting its portico. In 1766 he erected two monuments in his garden. The cenotaph was located in front of his new home. These monuments were never intended for public viewing. They were appropriate in size only for the garden of the private house for which they were designed. In 1882 the hall was bought by a French Roman Catholic sisterhood, the Dames de la Mere de Dieu, to be a school. The nuns, perhaps disliking the idea that the monuments in the garden of Manilla Hall had been placed there to commemorate events in which the French were clearly losers, ordered their removal the following year. The monuments would have been lost forever had it not been for the efforts of a local physician and antiquarian, Dr John Beddoe, of Mortimer House. He found the monuments in a stonemason’s yard in Redland. He organised a private subscription to save them and had them re-erected on Christchurch Green near their original site, where they remain to this day. The house was demolished early in the twentieth century, having been a school for many years.

Manilla Hall engraving after a drawing by S C Jones c 1835

The Portland Stone (limestone) cenotaph consists of a large stone urn, with a flame mounted on a sarcophagus supported by scrolled legs on each corner, resting on corners of a base plinth holding slate panels with dedications. It is a tribute to the fighting record of Draper's Regiment, the 79th Foot, which had been disbanded at the end of the Seven Years’ War, like so many other regiments. It commemorates the 30 officers and 1000 men of the 79th who died under his command during the Seven Years’ War in the East Indies between 1758 and 1765. The roll of honour includes the major battles in India in which the regiment was involved as it helped to break finally the threat of French military superiority: Madras, Conjeveram, Wandewash and Pondicherry, as well as the expedition to Manila. It is reputed to be the UK's oldest public war memorial. The 1766 limestone obelisk with purple slate panels honours William Pitt the elder, Earl of Chatham, who was Prime Minister at the time. It recognises Pitt as a great war leader and that he had chosen Draper for his first major command in India and

thereafter assisted him in his ascent up the military ladder. Draper’s lifelong friend from Eton, the poet Christopher Anstey, drafted the Latin inscriptions for both the cenotaph and the obelisk. In 1766, the Merchant Venturers appointed Sir William to be the Conservator of Clifton Down. He may have been responsible for the older trees planted on this spot. As Conservator he supervised the lime burners, lead miners and quarrymen whose activities so annoyed the residents of Clifton, particularly because of the noxious smoke of the lime kilns. CHIS (Clifton and Hotwells Improvement Society) have suggested the erection of an information board near the monuments to explain their unusual background and historical significance. It is possible that some conservation of the monuments may be feasible, particularly to make the inscriptions more legible. CHIS is liaising with the Downs Committee and the Principal Historic Environment Officer of Bristol City Council over these improvements.

WALKING FEATHERS REPORT

This has been a good but shortened season. We never got to Chepstow Castle and beyond in March, but it waits to start the renaissance. When and what this will be remains uncertain but all pandemics act as portal between the world they invade and the new world they create. Small groups, masks, no restaurants, no car sharing? What else will come? We began with two lakeside walks. The September Saunter began and finished in Chew Magna and took in part of Chew Valley Lake. For the October Outing, we went to Blagdon. A nice downhill start with views of the lake. The pull back up the hill memorable for different reasons! The November Navigation was in and around Castle Combe on a lovely sunny day. For me, the organization was a lesson in negotiation, gradually persuading the restaurant to drop their proposed surcharge of £200 for being in a room on our own. We will go there for another walk to complete the full circuit next season and the restaurant have already agreed to have us again on our terms! The Christmas Crawl was a longitudinal walk. It began at the Black Castle, Brislington and ended with a buffet lunch at the Riverstation. Along the way, we dropped down through Arnos Vale Cemetery with coffee in the café at the bottom, before walking along the cut to Temple Meads. Sherry and mince pies on the steps of the ferry landing fortified for the final push along the river to lunch. The January Jaunt took us to Bradford on Avon, a good starting point as it can be reached easily by train. We went through Barton Farm Country Park to see the tithe barn before climbing up to the canal and walking to Avoncliffe and then back. In the park we able to watch a kingfisher by the river – always magic moments. The final walk, the February Foray, was centred around Devizes and the Caen Hill Locks, a flight of 29 locks. ‘Seen one lock, seen them all?’ No! Splendour in numbers. On this occasion the weather was far from kind, but we stuck it out, ending with a good lunch at the Bear Hotel. We have had good numbers each time, good weather (mostly), good exercise, good company and good food. May we soon start up again! Geoff Wright

References: • Bristol’s Forgotten Victor: Lieutenant General Sir William Draper KB (17211787), James Dreaper (1998) The Bristol Branch of the Historical Association Local History Pamphlets • A History of Clifton, Donald Jones (1992) Phillimore • The Victorian Doctors of Victoria Square, Dr Michael Whitfield (2011) Whitfield Publishing Paul Main 67

The Citadel of Carcassonne By H. NORTON MATTHEWS

AT THE RED LODGE By BROTHER SAVAGE H. E. ROSLYN. [S soon as we began building our Wigwam at The Red Lodge lit became necessary to increase the membership from 200 to 300, and to raise the subscription for newcomers. There I was a long lift of candidates in waiting, so the vacancies Iwere promptly filled. What is more, by the end of the year [the list again contained fifty names. And here it may be well to point out that members who desire to secure the eleftion of friends should never delay sending the necessary nomination forms to the Hon. Secretary, for when elections take place, those who have been longest on the list are given preference in the ballot. The fa& that there has never been a dearth of recruits is a sure sign of prosperity and popularity. On Saturday, April 24th, 1920, when we entered into possession of our new quarters, there were a few who regarded the future with anxiety. Our responsibilities were heavy, but year by year our resources have always been equal to our needs. You have only to look round the building to-day to see what marvellous things have been accomplished in a little more than eleven years. An empty shell has been converted into a treasure house, and gifts continue to come often from unexpefted sources. Not one of the leaSt advantages we have gained by leaving Brandon Cottage is the acquisition of adequate accommodation for our Annual Exhibition. When Nichols' Sale Room in Broad Street changed hands we loSt the use of the only room in the city suitable for the purpose, and the Committee were gravely concerned as to what was to be done in the future. They were relieved of all anxiety by the removal to The Red Lodge, for in designing the new-Wigwam conStru&ed there, Brother Savage C. F. W. Dening paid special attention to our needs in this respeft. The provision of ample wall space, with a good top light, has added considerably to the success of the Exhibitions, which are by far the moSt important of our numerous undertakings. Perhaps the beSt evidence of this is to be shown by the growth of the sales. During the fourteen years that Nichols' Sale Room, in Hannah More Hall and Newcombe's Gallery were in use, these reached a total of £6,2 j 6, or an average of £417. In the eleven years we have been at The Red Lodge the total has been £12,424, which gives us an average of £1,129. increase would not have been obtained unless there had been a corresponding advance in the quality of the piftures hung. Artist Members have responded to environment, and so long as they continue to do so, they may look for a maintenance of public support. Reference is occasionally made to a Special Fund which enables piftures to be purchased at the close of Exhibitions either for presentation to the Museum and Art Gallery or for the enrichment of our own colleftion. While

Old Citadel of Carcassonne, Sleeping beneath the midday heat Whose warmth hath crept along thy walls Since Aton built his ancient seat. Dream you no dreams of battlements Bright with the flash of eyes, that shone ; Bright with the bannered Courts of Love ? Gay Citadel of Carcassonne !

Old Citadel of Carcassonne, Silent beneath the Southern night, Guarded by cypress—tapers dark, About thy ramparts, silver-light. Dream you no dreams of battlements Red with the blood of men, long gone ; Red with the stab of shot, and torch ? Grim Citadel of Carcassonne !

Old Citadel of Carcassonne, Stirring within they tower'd walls 5 hear the throb and thrill of war, The Song of Love—The trumpet calls ! I know the old dark figures rise To hear again the cry, " Fight on ! " " But it is Love who conquers all! " Dear Citadel of Carcassonne !

No. 1 3 of THE BRISTOL SAVAGES 47 some Lay Members know of its existence, few are aware of how it came to be founded. It is the outcome of a desire on the part of several friends to encourage Artist Members to produce their beSt work. From time to time they have made generous contributions; in certain cases these have been rendered annually, with the result tnat money has always been available to keep the Fund in operation. Its usefulness may be indicated by saying that it has enabled pictures to the value of £1,170 being bought. The majority of these hang on our walls, and the remainder are to be found in the Art Gallery. Members will not be surprised to learn that the maintenance of the Special Fund has been largely due to Bongie. This extended reference to the Annual Exhibitions can be justified on the ground of their importance, as an expression of the purpose for which we exist. To our Wigwam we also owe the success of the House Dinners. It matches the finest banqueting hall in the city, and although there have been occasions when the seating accommodation has been unduly taxed, the crowded State of the tables has never interfered with the enjoyment of the company. So popular have these gatherings become that it has forced us to severely reStri£t the number of invited guests. Suggestions have often been made that the issue of tickets should be limited to members who are regular in their attendance at the weekly meetings. The Committee have hesitated to impose reStriftions on those lines because they know it would rob a few whom they are always glad to welcome of the opportunity of being present, but the increasing popularity of the House Dinners and Ladies' Nights do present a problem which may have to be dealt with in the future. When the first dinner was held at the Cafe Royal, High Street, in May, 1904, original menus were provided by the artists for each member and gueSt in attendance, and they continued to do so until the company exceeded their productive powers. The custom was too pleasant a one to be abandoned even then; they continue to contribute a number of sketches and the ballot for them is always one of the most interesting features of the evening. What are known as the table menus are always specially designed for the occasion, and the few members who possess complete sets rightly attach great value to them. In years to come they will equal in interest complete sets of Grouse. The present Duke of Beaufort and his father, Captain R. F. Scott (the explorer), J. Seymour Lucas, R.A., Sir H. Hughes Stanton, R.A., Terrick Williams, A.R.A., Sir Lawrence Weaver, Fred Buridge, J. B. Manson and "Donald McQuilter, R.A.S.A.," have been numbered among our gueSts. None created a more lasting impression than the last-named upon making a belated appearance. We had not been at The Red Lodge many months before the Committee began to receive so many applications for the use of the Wigwam that it became necessary to frame special regulations under which these could be dealt with. According to the terms of our lease we are unable to let any part of the premises, so, save in a limited number of cases the Committee decided to refuse all applications unless the objedts were in harmony with our own.

PICTURES FROM OUR PRESIDENT’S PORTFOLIO

Above left

“Rhododendron at Arlington”

“Tiggy”

Above right: Helen and Steve Price in “Georgina”

“Triumph Roadster”

Below left: “Tom’s Birthday Card”

Below right: “Just Joey”

“Sweet Pea 1”

“Sweet Pea 2”

Quantas Airlines: Repair Division

LOCKDOWN HUMOUR During the period of lockdown during the coronavirus problems your Editor was pleased to receive a large number of items via text and e mails from friends and acquaintances. Whilst it is not possible to show video clips we reproduce here a few amusing tales and pictures

After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form, called a 'Gripe Sheet' which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems; document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the Gripe Sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humour. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by Qantas' pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers. P: Left inside main tyre almost needs replacement S: Almost replaced left inside main tyre. P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough. S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft. P: Something loose in cockpit S: Something tightened in cockpit. P: Dead bugs on windshield. S: Live bugs on back-order. P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent. S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground. P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear. S: Evidence removed. P: DME volume unbelievably loud. S: DME volume set to more believable level. P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick. S: That's what friction locks are for. P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode. S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

If Trump had been captain of the Titanic

P: Suspected crack in windshield. S: Suspect you're right.

There's no iceberg, believe me.

P: Number 3 engine missing. S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny............... (I love this one!) S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

There is an iceberg but it’s in a totally different ocean. There is an iceberg in this ocean but it will melt very soon. Very soon. Believe me. There is an iceberg but we didn't hit the iceberg. We hit the iceberg, but the damage will be repaired very shortly. Very shortly. Believe me. We’ve got lots of people working on it. Very good people. We’re working on it very very hard. It’s a beautiful thing to see how hard we’re working on it.

P: Target radar hums. S; Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics. P: Mouse in cockpit.

The iceberg was a Chinese iceberg.

S: Cat installed.

And the best one for last.................... P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer. S: Took hammer away from midget.

We’re taking on water, but every passenger who wants a lifeboat can get a lifeboat. We’ve got so many of them you wouldn’t believe it. They’re beautiful lifeboats. Look, passengers need to ask nicely for the lifeboats if they want them. I really don't think we need that many lifeboats. The lifeboats we have are supposed to be our lifeboats, not the passengers' lifeboats. Passengers should have planned for icebergs and brought their own life-boats. We don't have any lifeboats, we're not lifeboat distributors. The lifeboats were left on shore by the last captain of this ship. Nobody could have foreseen the iceberg. I'm an expert on icebergs. I've got lots of friends who deal with icebergs. Some of the best. Really good ice people who know ice and their forms of berginess. They all say, ’Mr President, you should have been a Professor of Icebergs rather than running for President of the United States’.

AND FOR THE GOLFERS IN THE SOCIETY WHO HAVE MISSED BOTH THE MOLYNEUX AND TOMAHAWK TROPHIES

THE TEN BEST CADDY RESPONSES Number :10 Golfer: "I think I'm going to drown myself in the lake.” Caddy: "do you think you can keep your head down that long Number : 9 Golfer: "I'd move heaven and earth to break 100 on this course.” Caddy: "Try heaven, you've already moved most of the earth.” Number : 8 Golfer: "Do you think my game is improving?” Caddy: "Yes . . . You miss the ball much closer now.” Number : 7 Golfer: "Do you think I can get there with a 5 iron?” Caddy: "Eventually.” Number : 6 Golfer: "You've got to be the worst caddy in the world.” Caddy: "I don't think so . . .That would be too much of a coincidence.” Number : 5 Golfer: "Please stop checking your watch all the time. It's too much of a distraction.” Caddy: "It's not a watch - it's a compass.” Number : 4 Golfer: "How do you like my game?” Caddy: "It's very good - personally, I prefer golf.” Number : 3 Golfer: "Do you think it's a sin to play on Sunday? Caddy: "The way you play, it's a sin on any day.” Number : 2 Golfer: "This is the worst course I've ever played on.” Caddy: "This isn't the golf course. We left that an hour ago.” And the Number : 1 . . . . Best Caddy Comment: Golfer: "That can't be my ball, it's too old.” Caddy: "It's been a long time since we teed off, sir.”

DATES FOR YOUR DIARY Due to Covid Restrictions the dates of the following events have still to be confirmed: Centenary Wigwam Dinner 110th Annual Exhibition of Paintings Private View of 110th Exhibition Molyneux Trophy Tomahawk Trophy

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