Gentleman With Pipe

Pipe smoking is a very particular activity is it not? I haven't given it too much thought but it occurs to me that it does seem to be a thing that mostly males do. I wonder why that is?

I thought that I was going to have to look elsewhere for an image to join in with Sepia Saturday (on a Monday) this week or opt out altogether as I've realised that I have a pretty limited photo collection and frequently come across photographs from other sources that are far more interesting than those I do have. Fortunately, though, this photo-on-a-postcard (date unknown - 1940's perhaps) of my great grandfather with - hoorah - a pipe, was sitting on the sideboard and fitted at least a part of the brief.

I don't know much about Harry, above, apart from the fact that he was devoted to his wife, Maude, who predeceased him. As a widower he lived with his daughter and two granddaughters in Cornwall. I remember my mum telling me that he was a lovely grandfather and that when she was little he used to pay her thruppence for darning the holes in his socks. The other detail I know about him is that on his daughter's marriage certificate his occupation is described as 'Gentleman'. What that means I'm not sure. Anyway, I'm quite drawn to his 'look' - the plus twos, thick walking socks, tie, jumper and tweed jacket - as it's quite distinctive.

There are quite a few sayings which refer to being a gentleman or the qualities of being gentlemanly - although I appreciate that the concept of both might seem a little out of date to some - but the following one seemed a fair one to quote: 'To be born a gentleman is an accident. To die a gentleman is an achievment.'

Anon.

I've a half memory of asking my grandma about these. She may have answered. I've forgotten. 

Foreign Bodies

I don't usually take photographs of strangers.

Here's the truth: I'm trying to read my book but am distracted and start staring. It's something I try to not do because it's, well, rude. But I get drawn in by what's happening in front of me. Especially on holiday. And other people are fascinating aren't they? Even more interesting if you can't understand what they're saying so it's just the actions you've got to go on. Endless entertainment for an onlooker like me. And I get fixated on tan depth, worry about the pale skinned in the midday heat, imagine the lives of those I'm absorbed by and wonder about national body type. Is there such a thing? 

Everyone is crammed onto this narrow strip of riverside 'beach'. I am sitting in the only patch of shade in a grassy picnic area. It's busy. Out of shot to the left is an ancient bridge.  Those without fear, and happy to perform to an expectant audience, will jump from it. They will position themselves carefully: toes over the edge, arms out to the side. Wait. Ready. Deep breath. Some are trying this trick for the first time, others are old hands. One or two apply extra drama to this feat and try a somersault. 

There's a thwack when a body hits the water. 

Fifteen or so friends dominate the action and I'm trying to work out the relationships. But who belongs to whom I'm not sure. They communicate in 'shout' led by a tubby, moustachioed majordomo who directs his crowd from a spot in the river. Today the river is his. 

Can you see two heads just above the girl with the ginger hair? They are being carried along on the fast flowing current which pulls the willing towards a large rock. The game is to try to climb on to the rock either by grabbing it or being helped up by someone already there. It's not easy to do for the tug of the current is so strong it will pull you right past. It's a good place to stop to catch your breath.

The water is cold. So cold. 

In a few minutes the scene will change and so will the atmosphere. The woman right in the very middle of the photograph - she's just about to lose her wedding ring.

I should get back to my book.

Things Found

Here are some oddments found amongst my Dad's photograph collection/suitcase of 'stuff'. There are some very lovely messages on the packaging. Click on the images for a closer look.

Coming across these little packets, which mostly belonged to my Grandma, has reminded me of having to wait - sometimes for as long as a whole week - for photos to be developed at the chemist. Seems unthinkable now doesn't it?

I love this last sentiment (pic above) and have taken it quite to heart.