Phallic Frigg Day and the Rise of the Power Tools

It’s Friday and on Friday mornings I receive digital copies of ‘Building‘ and Estates Gazette magazines. I usually post the issue covers on MEROVEE because they sync so much, but with the overflowing comments, the latest page has become difficult to load…

So for the Meroveeps, or Mirror VIPs, here’s what’s…

Building cover 131115

Ding Dong, Clicky! What does the little Gazette (‘e states *rolls eyes*) have to say?

Estates Gazette cover 141115

Kinda black and white, Clicky. I wonder what it means…

Etymologyonline is a fantastic resource if words grab your inner rest…

property (n.) c. 1300, properte, “nature, quality,” later“possession, thing owned” (early 14c., a sense rare before 17c.), from an Anglo-French modification of Old French propriete“individuality, peculiarity; property” (12c., Modern French propreté; see propriety), from Latin proprietatem (nominative proprietas) “ownership, a property, propriety, quality,” literally “special character” (a loan-translation of Greek idioma), noun of quality from proprius “one’s own, special” (see proper). For “possessions, private property” Middle English sometimes used proper goods. Hot property“sensation, a success” is from 1947 in “Billboard” stories.

If you clicked on ‘property’ EOL you’ll see four pages of listings where the word is used. These can be fascinating – both ‘black’ and ‘white’ via ‘bleach’ are Shining words, revealed to me whilst looking for hidden things in ‘The Shining’

Look down the first page for ‘Property’ and you’ll find ‘waif’…

waif (n.) late 14c., “unclaimed property, flotsam, stray animal,” from Anglo-French waif (13c., Old French guaif) “ownerless property, something lost;” as an adjective, “not claimed, outcast, abandoned,” probably from a Scandinavian source akin to Old Norse veif “waving thing, flag,” from Proto-Germanic *waif-, from PIE *weip- “to turn, vacillate, tremble ecstatically” (see vibrate). Compare Medieval Latin waivium “thing thrown away by a thief in flight.” A Scottish/northern English parallel form was wavenger (late 15c.).

Meaning “person (especially a child) without home or friends” first attested 1784, from legal phrase waif and stray (1620s), from the adjective in the sense “lost, strayed, homeless.” Neglected children being uncommonly thin, the word tended toward this sense. Connotations of “fashionable, small, slender woman” began 1991 with application to childishly slim supermodels such as Kate Moss.

Look again at the ‘Building’ cover *scrolls up* and find the waving flag…

Wow, Clicky… Big Ben, flag and Kate Moss…

Anyway, it was whilst I was taking digital snapshots of the magazine covers, when the fire alarm suddenly screamed into life. A drill – just enough time to grab cigs, phone, hat and coat before being ushered down the spiraling fire escape by orange fluorescent wardens.

Too wet and windy to smoke during roll call, so I waited until everyone else sprinted for the lifts and settled my back into a covered corner to smoke and read. “Yippee!” there was a new post from The Slog to think about…

Now if you add all this mayhem up, you could be forgiven for concluding that the two government institutions Britain should steer completely clear of are The United States of America, and the European Union. And if you then look at their disgraceful citizen rights record and parlous econo-fiscal positions, you’d probably add Saudi Arabia, Turkey and China to that list. So it does say quite a lot about the judgement of the so-called British élite that they continue to laud the Special Relationship with the US, are desperate to stay in the rapidly collapsing EU bed, like nothing better than selling arms to the Saudis, have hired Beijing to oversee our nuclear power development, and toddle off to Ankara at regular intervals in order to praise Recep Erdogan to the Heavens.

Not just power, Johnthought I, quite a bit of London.”

Oh we just have to waif until… TY, Clicky 😉 Have a Song…

 

 

Ay, there’s the rub …

I say, I say, I say … my dog’s got no nose …

loopy and poopy lift off

*Oh Clicky-Doo that’s wonderful … photography is not my forte …*

*******

“I suppose you can always jazz it up.” Thoughtful Man handed the camera back to me, perfectly timed to his zooming squint. “What’s the connection between the two?”

“Whitehouse…” My eyes signaled which way I would turn my head before I did. Left in this instance.

“That’s extremely tenuous and nobody will understand the connection, except me”.  Laser squint dissolved into rapid blinking. “One. Newman and Baddiel were only half of the ‘Mary Whitehouse Experience‘.” He shook his head. “And number two. We only met Paul Whitehouse at Roy’s play.”

It’s true. At half time in the bar Roy, Thoughtful Man’s best friend from school, and basis of one of the play’s two main characters, introduced us to the great man. We said “Hi”.

“You were too shy to even talk to him, for goodness sake!”

*Marc Warren, Clicky? Oh he was very shy when I told how brilliant he was at playing Thoughtful Man …*

“Hello. Seriously, are you not listening to me?” He was wearing his ‘You’re not listening to me’ expression.

“Of course I was listening.” I thought fast. “You said, ‘You can connect anything to anything else if you look hard enough. It’s just coincidence. Everybody has them’.” I turned the camera back and took his photo *Click*.

The squint was back. “Lucky guess”.

“Of course. I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I married you.” Unfortunately the deadpan delivery only served intensified the squint.

“True.” He rubbed his chin. “But you do spend far too much time on the internet.” Again true

Maslow updated

“I’ll be as flexible as I can with your synchronicity malarky but I’ll be glad when your holiday is over and you get back to real work.” His face was set …

*I said ‘set’, Clicky.*

Gently, he took the camera back, laid it on the table and took my hand. “Why are you spending all day chatting to great unwashed, listening to rubbish and chasing old laughs?” He looked at me thoughtfully. “I’m on holiday, too. We could connect”.

*Not fair and not true, Clicky… /rolls eyes… So jealous…*

 

 

An Archivistic Vision: Welcome to the Programme

Earlier this week, coinciding neatly with a just-in-time delivery of memories into the LoL – a faux-leather case, bulging at the seams with promising content, Mrs Reign opened Parliament and recited the new government’s proposed legislative programme for the coming year.

“Have you seen this?” Thoughtful Man said, passing the case over for inspection.  It was surprisingly heavy, requiring both hands to guide it to the floor and prevent flattened toes. “That should keep you occupied for a bit”. He was right. A glance at the protruding spines produced a squeal …

*squint*

… and the urge to break out plastic opera glasses. “Programmes! These are all our programmes”.  I grabbed a handful and got comfortable …

“Shows, concerts, places of interest.” I looked up beaming, “All the places we went together. I’d forgotten all about these”.

“Of course.” Thoughtful Man managed to keep the ‘harumph’ out of his voice but not off his face. “I keep everything.” He’s not called ‘Thoughtful Man’ for nothing. “I don’t think that’s all of them, but it’s enough to get you started. Why don’t you take some photos and then pick one to focus on.” He handed me a camera and retired to a safe distance.

programmes 1 programmes 2

Where to start? There was a lot to choose from but fortuitously a prompt arrived from A Void at Merovee … Phantasmagoria mention by A Void Erasure … not the sort proposed by the new government and read out by Mrs Reign … but the campy band and their ‘Phantasmagorical‘ concert that I had to go see twice at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1992.

Erasure Phantasmagorical Program Erasure Phantasmagorical Program insert

I’d bought the concert tickets for Thoughtful Man, as his gift the first Christmas after we were married.  But as luck would have it, he was travelling that night so I ended up taking Sister Juju.  Afterward, as we left the theatre, the sweat rapidly cooling on our hot and tired bodies, we hoarsely agreed “OMG! He has to see it!”

The next day I set about trying to find more tickets, no mean feat considering this was pre-internet days …

Not quite that desolate, Clicky, but I can see why you might think that.

It was the giant, Pip, from work at Big Shop, who unexpectedly came to my rescue …

Pip comes to Roob's Aid

These tickets were even better than the first, right at the front, but even better than that, we got to have the phantasmagorical experience together …

Jealous much, Clicky?

“Have you finished that yet?” Thoughtful Man reappeared, looking anxious; he knows what a terrible shot I am. He spotted the shiny programme. “Erasure! Bloody brilliant!.” He turned away, leafing through the pages. “I’ll tell you what, have a song.”