Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Where are all the topless ladies?



Walking along the esplanade at Balmoral in the sun (the Australian Balmoral, not the Scottish one!)  I was nostalgically reminded of the days when a beach like that would have been full of ladies happily sunbathing, topless. I remember our first visit to the South of France, when to my amazement most of the women on the beaches from Cannes to Monte Carlo had rejected the top half of their bikinis – some time before this was happening in the UK, even when the weather was warm enough. When did that fashion start? On the continent I suppose as early as the 1950s, but it was probably in the 1960s that topless sunbathing became ubiquitous on beaches almost everywhere. There were attempts to ban this, of course – and indeed both left-wing governments (Russia) and right-wing ones (the US) were equally hysterical in legislating against women appearing in public with bare breasts. Women however were determined to do what they wanted with their bodies, and being free to explore their top halves to the sun was one of them. The ‘bra-burning of the late 1960s was political in a way topless sunbathing or swimming was not, I think; but there was a sort of politics involved, after all – the determination that they should be free to wear, or not wear, what they wanted.
Strangely, today, to quote Wikipedia, ‘media reports in recent years note that the number of women sunbathing topless on French beaches has markedly declined, and that younger French women have become more disapproving of exposing breasts in public. Even in some parts of Europe generally considered to have a liberal attitude towards toplessness, such as Sweden, surveys show there is considerable resistance to its acceptance.’ So once determined they had the right to expose their breasts if they wanted, women have gone into reverse and are determined – as some have put it - ‘to keep their breasts for their boy-friends’. Fine, if that’s the real season; but fashion has always been strongly allied to changing social mores. Are we set for a return to Victorian values? (watch out for the return of the crinoline, ladies).
 Just interested, that’s all.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Just to irritate everyone . . .


Getting on towards the middle of winter here, and this morning we went down with a friend to Bamoral Beach and strolled. Temperature in the middle 60s/20s but felt warmer; bright blue sky, the beach newly combed and the light brown sand smooth as a baby's bottom. Sat on the balcony of the tea room and drank good Australian flat whites while the waters gently lapped at the timbers below. Then walked again, past one woman in a bikini (a little brave, maybe), others walking their dogs, or just strolling aimlessly; a few batheing - 'warmer in than out', one said, and I dare say that was true. Just wondered what location on earth could possibly rival the scene.



Saturday, June 14, 2014

Cabbages, sheep and astrology

The connection between astrology and husbandry is almost as long as the history of astrology. In America particularly early almanacs were packed with information and advice as to how astrology could forecast the weather, and how the positions of the planets could be used to good effect in the planting and gathering of crops and the breeding of cattle. This could be as simple as advising the picking of apples when the Moon was full, thus drawing the juices into the fruit, or more complex, but it was always practical and forthright, viz Jerome Cardan:
'Graft not Trees, the Moon waning, or not to be seen, and if you shear sheep in her increase the wool will grow again the better.'
or,
'Sow or plant when the Moon is in Taurus, Virgo or Scorpio in good Aspect of Saturn, but when she is in Cancer set or sow all kinds of pulses, and in Libra or Capricorn dress your Gardens and trim your small Trees and Shrubs,'
Planting by the Moon is traditional in the East, and there have been somewhat inconclusive studies by Western astrologers.



-          from Parkers’ Encyclopaedia of Astrology (Watkins, ISBN 978-1-905857-71-5
-          and read Julia’s forecasts for your day at  www.parkeriters.com

Friday, June 13, 2014

Julia's got to Chapter one-hundred!

Hi gals and guys! Yes that's true, mind you  quite a few of the chapters are pretty short and I must add that the end of the tunnel  is now clearly in view !   So what's this all about? you ask quite rightly.   You see, for a fairly long time  I have been writing a Family Saga.   It is faction but there's masses of  real family history in it.  I can only  write it at times when I am not working on  things like our recent dailies and other regular work,or any new commission that comes along. Hence that's why it is having a long 'birth'!   ' I know so much about a branch of my mother's family who emigrated to Sydney, arriving on Boxing Day 1882.   They were successful builders in Plymouth UK, and decided to come to Australia to make their fortunes - which they did!   They  settled first in Park Street Sydney then on the North Shore; and when Derek and I were house hunting to come here to live,  we looked at a house in Ernest Street; but it had just been sold- I didn't know at the time that not one, but two members of my family lived in that Street!   My story has a lot of characters and story lines but I don't think it's bitty!   I am covering one decade and it ends in 1892.  I think there is something for everyone in it which will appeal to gals and to you guys!   So much is factual - like the wife of one of the two couples who was a very talented dressmaker who hits the realms  of society fashion, their building projects and many of the people whose paths they crossed and with whom they worked and had relationships.. .   I have a young heroine who was my great Aunt, and  in one of her letters to my aunt in the UK asks after me and my brother. She's a real feisty lass who doesn't miss a thing!   She's a talented artist and also works with her sister-in-law in the fashion company. The men of the family are clever and they eventually team up with extremely successful businessmen in Melbourne.    There's the odd tragedy, and the book  will be the first of  three, which will take us via the twenties two World Wars and. . . ? . . Well we'll see!  Oh yes, gals,I do have the odd gorgeous  hunk or two.  My characters range in age from birth to one or two real 'olds' in their late eighties!!!   The Saga will be called 'Coming South'.  I'll keep you Blogged!    Cheers -  now back to Christmas 1889!  always - Julia!

Sunday, June 8, 2014

What time is it now, for goodness sake?

Easy - 'standard time', they say. This is the time set for a particular area of the earth's surface, adopted for the sake of clarity and good timekeeping.The zones are measured from Greenwich - i.e., New York, which is placed on the 75th meridian west of Greenwich, is five hours slow, compared to Greenwich time. Tokyo uses the 135th meridian east of Greenwich, and is nine hours in advance of Greenwich time - so when it is noon in Tokyo it is 3 a.m., GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). There are however endless complications for astrologers attempting to discover how a local time historically relates to Greenwich: at the turn of the century seven European countries and most of the countries of South America were still refusing to accede to GMT; others changed to GMT then changed back. There was in addition - and continues to be - local adaptation of 'summer time', and sometimes in emergency 'double summer time'. Good luck, chaps!



-          from Parkers’ Encyclopaedia of Astrology (Watkins, ISBN 978-1-905857-71-5

Friday, June 6, 2014

Seventy Years ago!!!!

Hi guys and gals    Well, yes, I see that the celebrations for the D-Day Landings are being most impressive.   I suppose celebrations is correct in one big sense of the word because - albeit after quite along time - that remarkable effort achieved so much; but the loss of life has to be remembered very differently.   I have my own personal memory of that date.   I think it must have been the evening before, because either the terrific noise of aircraft must have wakened me or my parents got me out of bed to see what was going on,   We were living  inland, in Gloucestershire at the time, and I think Double Summer Time (daylight saving time) was in operation -this meant even more hours of day light for farmers, and it didn't get dark until about 11 at night.    The three of us looked out of one of the front upstairs windows of our house and the planes were going over in huge droves  - yes really huge ones.   There were quite a few US bases in that area of the UK, and  at that moment  no announcement had as yet been made on the BBC's Home Service or their Forces Programme.   My Dad's voice still rings in my ears as he several times said   'There's something big going on'  My Mum's re-assuring response was 'Well at least they're their ours'!'    Obviously  they were mostly American !  What had been  a constant cry earlier in 1941 when the Plymouth blitz was raging was how one could tell by the sound of the planes where they were 'ours' or the dreaded 'theirs' !   Yes we were usually right - the sound was totally different! Plymouth UK is some 150 miles South West of where we were living in Gloucestershire at the time, due to my Dad's war work.   So yes, I can definitely say that the night  before the 6th of June 1944 was a night I well remember - little though I was ! 

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

What time is it? - Come back, the Goons.




A blast from the past . . :

BLUEBOTTLE: What time is it, Eccles?
ECCLES: Um, just a minute. I got it written down here on a piece of paper. A nice man wrote the time down for me this morning.
BLUEBOTTLE: Eug! Then why do you carry it around with you, Eccles?
ECCLES: Well, um, if anyone asks me the time, I can show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: Wait a minute Eccles, my good man.
ECCLES: What is it, fellow?
BLUEBOTTLE: It’s written on this piece of paper, what is eight o’clock, is writted.
ECCLES: I know that, my good fellow – that’s right, when I asked the fellow to write it down, it as eight o’clock.
BLUEBOTTLE: Well, then, supposing when somebody asks you the time it isn’t eight o’clock?
ECCLES: Well, then, I don’t show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: I wish I could afford a piece of paper with the time written on. Here, Eccles – let me hold that piece of paper to my ear, would you? . . . Here, this piece of paper ain’t going.
ECCLES: What? I’ve been sold a forgery!
BLUEBOTTLE: No wonder it’s stopped at eight o’clock. You should get one of them thing my grandad’s got. His firm gave it to him when he retired. It’s one of them things what it is that wakes you up at eight o’clock, boils the kettle, and pours a cup of tea.
ECCLES: Oh, yeah – what’s it called?
BLUEBOTTLE: My grandma.
ECCLES: Ah. Here, wait a minute – how does she know when it’s eight oclock?
BLUEBOTTLE: She’s got it written down on a piece of paper.