rivka

Like they would have painted a sinister sixth finger (come on down Mr Cromwell insisting on the warts): Hidden detail found in Anne Boleyn portrait was ‘witchcraft rebuttal’, say historians. Hmmm. Oh yeah? Am cynical.

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Overlooked women artists (maybe I will mosey on down to the Courtauld....): The Courtauld’s riveting, revelatory and deeply researched show of ten lost female painters looks afresh at the golden age of British landscape art:

Some of Mary Smirke’s pictures were ascribed to her brother and Elizabeth Batty’s entire output was assumed to have been her son’s.

Men are poor stuff. Men are terribly poor stuff. Men covertly filming women at night and profiting from footage, BBC finds.

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The Black Beauty in the White House: this is actually about the famous horse book, which was written in a house of that name. In Norfolk.

This is the story of a child from a coastal town in Norfolk, who would go on to influence life around the world and who is just as famous today. Not Horatio Nelson, but rather Anna Sewell, the author of Black Beauty. She managed to not only influence the lives of people but also horses (and possibly many other animals as well) with the story, published only a few months before her death.

This looks fascinating though I need to read it a lot more closely: Right place, right time: Luck, geography, and politics:

On 12th May 2020, Mass Observation collected c5,000 diaries from people across the UK. Many of these diaries mention luck and many of these luck stories are geography stories. Geographers, though, have not written much about luck. In this article, I review the literature on luck from within and beyond geography to construct a working definition and geographical approach to luck. The working definition describes luck as chance, fortuitous, unexpected events that were beyond the control of those for whom they are now significant. The geographical approach distinguishes four geographical aspects of luck: the geometry of luck; lucky places; right place, right time; and the practical sphere.

This week's bread: Len Deighton's Mixed Wholemeal Loaf from The Sunday Times Book of Real Bread: 4:1:1 wholemeal flour/strong white flour/mix of wheatgerm and medium oatmeal, now that I have supply of these, splosh of sunflower oil, this turned out very nice indeed.

Friday night supper: penne with chopped red pepper fried in a little oil and then chopped pepperoni added, splashed with a little lemon-infused oil before serving.

Saturday breakfast rolls: brown grated apple, strong brown flour, Rayner's barley malt extract: perhaps a little on the stodgy side.

Today's lunch: pheasant breasts flattened a little and rubbed with juniper berries, coriander seed, 5-pepper blend and salt crushed together and left for a couple of hours, panfried in butter and olive oil, deglazed with madeira; intended to serve with kasha but kasha from new supplier did not respond well to cooking by absorption method; sweetstem cauliflower (partly purple) roasted in pumpkin seed oil with cumin seeds and splashed with lime and lemongrass balsamic vinegar, 'baby' (monster baby) leeks halved and healthy-grilled in olive oil, with an olive oil, white wine, and grainy mustard dressing.

What I read

Finished The Edge. Well, there was a fair amount of research on Canadian railways went into that....

Shani Akilah, For Such a Time as This (2024), sortes ereader, i.e. opened up as I was scrolling my unread list - not sure how I came across this but enjoyed it, linked short stories about a group of Black British young (ish) people of diverse origins.

Forgot to mention this which I had already started last week and put to one side: Dennis Covington, Salvation on Sand Mountain: Snake Handling and Redemption in Southern Appalachia (1995, reissue with new afterword 2009) - I think I saw something about this somewhere and was interested in the idea. I was a bit irked at first by the style which was a certain kind of upmarket journalistic, and I was then a bit hmmm about him getting in touch with his own occluded lost in the mists family roots, but it was intriguing stuff, especially the way he got both drawn into the whole thing and then ejected by the community.

Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man (1964), since we watched the movie at the weekend (Colin Firth gives with brood) and I couldn't remember the book well enough to say how it matched (it did some odd things). Not, I think, peak Isherwood.

Madeleine E. Robins, The Sleeping Partner (Sarah Tolerance #3) (2011, recently reissued) - I read the earlier ones ages ago but missed this, which I was really gripped by.

On the go

And straight on to Madeleine E. Robins, The Doxies Penalty (Sarah Tolerance #4) (2025)

Up next

No idea - though a book I requested for review has now turned up. (Also essay review I turned in months ago finally came back with some minimal edits to do.)

Thinking about the 'how can you do/think about normal innocuous quotidien things' while shocking horrors are going on -

(Am not actually going to invoke pet genre of 'look at all these novels being written at a time when World War 2 was just about to begin/beginning'.)

This was just a coincidental thing that occurred to me when I was talking about something tangentially related when being a Nexpert for a journalist yesterday.

Who wanted to know about a certain sex manual v popular in its day and its author -

In the course of which I mentioned that it was not prosecuted for obscenity** unlike Eustace Chesser's Love without Fear (1940). One would have thought that possibly people had other things on their mind in 1940 than maximising matrimonial happiness, particularly considering that families were being broken up by men being conscripted into service, women being evacuated with their children, etc etc, but anyway, it was published, and sold several thousand copies before, in 1942, it was prosecuted for obscenity by the Director of Public Prosecutions.

Again, one would think people had other things on their mind. Anyway, Chesser and his publisher decided to take the case to court and plead not guilty before a jury, bringing three medical witnesses for the defence. The jury was out for less than an hour before returning a 'not guilty' verdict.

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Yesterday saw snowdrops appearing in the local park.

*WH Auden, Musée des Beaux Arts (1940)

**However, the Pope did put it on the Index.

Should we sell our kidneys?

My feeling, on finding somebody who is apparently a reader in political theory at a well-respected institution of Teh Highah Learninz positing this, is that he may have read a lot of political theory, poor lamb, but maybe he should spend some time with dystopian science fiction if he's going to contemplate these sort of questions.

I suppose, with the Organ Donation register, there is an issue that a) it is Opt-In and b) presumably by the time many people reach that state when their organs come up for donation, those organs are probably past their Best Before date.

(I just now, in connection with an entirely unrelated transaction with a government body, was solicited to sign up with the Organ Donation Register. Already have, thanks, if anyone will want my tired old organs when the time comes.)

And on the intrusion of Commerce into this matter, has this person considered the sorts of things that have been happening - only, one admits, affecting the bodies of wymmynz? - over selling their eggs, or being surrogates, and the stories one hears are Not Pretty.

He might also consider Richard Titmuss' famous 1970 work The Gift Relationship: From Human Blood to Social Policy on blood donation:

[T]he author compares blood donation in the US and UK, contrasting the British system of reliance on voluntary donors to the American one in which the blood supply is in the hands of for-profit enterprises, concluding that a system based on altruism is both safer and more economically efficient.

In the 18th century, for example, some viewed being paid to sing as akin to prostitution, and professional opera singers, particularly women, could be deemed morally suspect. At that time, therefore, it might have seemed appropriate to subject professional singing to legal strictures, just like prostitution.

(I'm also thinking - has this one cropped up on agonyaunt or have I seen it elsewhere - of that scenario in which member of a family - even an estranged member of family - is being heavyed into being a donor for a relative because they are A Match. Was it even child adopted but later traced?)

Last week's bread held out pretty well.

Friday night supper: the hash-type-thing of boiled chopped up sweet potato, fried with chopped red bell pepper and chorizo di navarra.

Saturday breakfast roll: the adaptable soft rolls recipe, Marriage's Golden Wholegrain Bread Flour, maple syrup, sultanas.

Today's lunch: Scottish Loch Trout Fillets, poached like so, with samphire sauce, served with Ruby Gem potatoes roated in goose fat, sugar snap peas roasted in walnut oil with fennel seeds and splashed with tayberry vinegar, and padron peppers.

But so not in the way people who diss on my lovely city of residence usually mean it.

From scorpions to peacocks: the species thriving in London’s hidden microclimates: An extraordinary mosaic of wildlife has made Britain’s urban jungle its home:

London is the only place in the UK where you can find scorpions, snakes, turtles, seals, peacocks, falcons all in one city – and not London zoo. Step outside and you will encounter a patchwork of writhing, buzzing, bubbling urban microclimates.
Sam Davenport, the director of nature recovery at the London Wildlife Trust, emphasises the sheer variation in habitats that you find in UK cities, which creates an amazing “mosaic” of wildlife.
“If you think of going out into the countryside where you have arable fields, it’s really homogeneous. But if you walk a mile in each direction of a city you’re going to get allotments, gardens, railway lines, bits of ancient woodland.”

More than 10,000 yellow-tailed scorpions (Tetratrichobothrius flavicaudis) are thought to live in the crevices of walls at Sheerness dockyard, Kent, and are believed to have spawned a second colony in the east London docklands. They arrived in the UK in the 1800s, nestled in shipments of Italian masonry.
Meanwhile, Regent’s Park provides perfect woodland conditions for the UK’s main population of Aesculapian snakes (Zamenis longissimus). One of Europe’s largest snake species, these olive-coloured constrictors are thought to be escapers from a former research facility, surviving in the wild by preying on rodents and birds.

Art-loving falcons: 'Swooping from the Barbican, the falcons often spend the day at Tate Modern, just across the river'. Doesn't that conjure up an image?

Bats! - 'Wildlife experts believe they navigate much like human commuters, using linear railway embankments as guides through the city.' Bless.

And FERAL PEACOCKS!!! 'Other birds are legacies of Britain’s aristocratic past. Peacocks, for example, are known to strut through the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park, feral descendants of birds once kept by the gentry'.

Mention of the pelicans in St James's Park as descendants of gifts to Charles II, but alas, no crocodiles from that era have survived.

Given this metropolitan seethingness of nature red in tooth and claw, do men really need to go on Rewilding Retreats in Cornwall? (there was a para about this in the travel section which I can't locate online) - particularly given the 'walks in ancient temperate rain forest', I felt this was folk horror movie waiting to happen - just me??