A Temple to Science

Housed in the old priory of Saint-Martin-des-Champs in the 3rd arrondissement of Paris, the Musée des Arts et Métiers contains a wonderful collection what can only be described as 'stuff'. Scientific instruments rub shoulders with Nicolas Cugnot's steam propelled 3 wheel gun carriage - believed to be the first road going locomotive. Ancient aircraft are hung as if they were Airfix models in a young boys bedroom, from the vaulted and domed ceilings, whilst murals adorn the walls. Primitive motorcycles and early motor cars abound, there's even Focault's Pendulum. It's the Science Museum but without quite the emphasis on entertainment. The building naturally has a sepulchral quality completely in keeping with its exhibits which have an 'oily rag' quality and are reassuringly unrestored. Objects here are viewed with reverence and one feels should never (in the ghastly preference of modern historians be spoken of in the present tense - why do they do that? - example..."Napoleon is virtually within the gates of Moscow"...can't stand it, I suppose they think it makes all sound hip and relevant...which it is without resorting to time-shifting). For a museum that has been open since the 18th century it has moved with the times but not so much that that its style triumphs over substance - a good balance I feel. It's well worth taking in if you're 'en Paris' for a couple of days.

Tom Sayers

Funny the things you find tucked away, probably in most towns. I found this though in the 'City' of Brighton and Hove a couple of weeks ago. This memorial to the great Tom Sayers, prizefighter extraordinary, is just screwed to the wall of a shop near the North Laines area. A relatively small man, Sayers was born into poverty in Brighton around 1826 and moved between London and Brighton in his trade as bricklayer. Becoming a professional fighter in 1849 he won the bout against Abe Couch. He maintained winning form for a while but failed as a pub landlord. This prompted the need to earn more money, but fights within his own class were becoming difficult to arrange due to his dangerous reputation. He fought out of his weight against heavyweights Paulson and Bill Perry - The Tipton Slasher! and won on both occasions. This was the precursor to The Big Fight, celebrated in ballad, against the challenger, the American, Heenan, known as The Benecia Boy.


Although the fight game was by now illegal nothing could prevent this huge contest at Farnborough, Hants on 17th April 1860. Sayers was nearly three stones lighter, five inches shorter, and eight years older than Heenan. Early on in the bout Sayers' arm was disabled but he managed to close Heenan's eye...they fought like tigers for forty rounds taking over two hours, only ceasing combat when the police moved in and closed the contest. It was declared a draw. Ulitmately both men were awarded the championship belt.


Sayers retired and a public subscription raised over £3000 for him. He made some unwise choices of female companions and a daliance with the circus failed too. After a fairly dissolute period of heavy drinking he died in 1865 and his funeral was attended by 100,000 people. Buried in Highgate Cemetery his memorial is a sculpture of his dog 'Lion'.


A true son of Sussex and bold as you like. 

Francois Chevalier

Whilst visiting the Rétromobile exhibition of Vintage and classic cars in Paris last week I had the enormous pleasure of meeting the extraordinary Francois Chevalier. This beguiling gentleman is a self taught artist, caricaturist and sculptor of great talent. Having run the famous Paul Ricard motor racing circuit for many years he has turned a hobby of making drawings into his main profession. He always has a small booth tucked out of the way at the show but those in the know make a beeline for it. Here you will be entertained, for he is almost as good a raconteur as he is an artist and there is always a drawing of his that is affordable and appropriate. If you're lucky there's a glass of wine on offer too. His loose style of drawing belies an innate understanding of exactly how things work, and therein lies his great skill. Sometimes he jokes with us through his monstrous inventions and adaptations of famous and historic cars....his six-wheel Bugatti Royale transporter being a great example. At other times his drawing is reportage and you are convinced that HE WAS THERE, when the event in question was aeons ago,

He doesn't confine himself to cars either. The drawing here is of a Vincent motorcycle having its clutch attended to - an event not unknown in my experience. And just look how he captures the wiseacres standing around 'assisting' the mechanic in blue with ever more helpful suggestions. The sculpture is in bronze and of Lockhart's Stutz Black Hawk in which he was killed aged but 26 years. The book jacket is of his superb 'Le Petit Bugattiste Illustre' a volume of 'cartoons' and captions.

He's a lovely chap and a fine and often humorous draughtsman. Do seek him out.

Moonscape

A recent stroll along the cliff top at Saltdean brought a view of this 1920's futuristic house. It's a real survivor although it's singular pedestrian entrance way is no longer used. The door circled on the photograph leads to a flight of steps which passes up through the cliff to the garden in front of the building. This is ably demonstrated by watching the wonderful Pathé News clip from 1928. My late dad-in-law went to school with the son of the builder of this house and confirmed the several fascinating features. It sits above the main South Coast Road, the A259 in an area euphemistically named 'Rottingdean Heights' by hopeful estate agents.

http://www.britishpathe.com/record.php?id=9881

Oh my head!

Now is the time to beat a path to the achingly wonderful Harvey's off-licence. Stocking up on Christmas booze from our favourite local brewer - Harvey's of Lewes is one of life's great pleasures. A visit to Lewes is a treat in itself but get thee to Cliffe High Street and really put the brandy butter on the Christmas cake! The low black and white building has large windows displaying every kind of refreshment you can imagine plus breweriana in the from of jugs, glasses and clothing sporting the name of Sussex's finest. Enter through the narrow doorway and step down into the shop - I like stepping down into a premises - so sort of Wind in the Willowsy somehow. You are met with a cornucopia of beer wines and spirits, a temple to tipplers who are there for no other reason than to be tempted. A small glass-paneled office sits beyond the counter where things are still entered in large ledgers...by hand. Helpful staff will nip out the back to the brewery proper and draw off whatever draught beer you want into your container or theirs. Dropped 'bright' this stuff tates better if consumed quickly which all adds to the obligation to polish it off with due dedication. All the bottled beers are there too including the brain-zapping Christmas Ale, which at 8.1% ABV will send grandpa off to the Land of Nod whilst you play a noisy hand of Happy Families - "Mr Bun the Baker" - "Sorry, not at home" - answering with a mere "No' will incur severe penalties in our house...the niceties must be observed. The comically ugly portraits on the Victorian Jacques cards always make the kids screw their faces up with revulsion. Anyway, back to Harvey's. Never ones to waste their profits on uncalled-for slick graphic design, they tend to adopt a minimalist approach and push the boat out on special occasions, and even then you get the impression that the whole operation is more Letraset driven than having had a computer anywhere near it. When you think of what a brewer like Adnams of Southwold, whom I also admire, must spend on their marketing, it makes the Harvey's operation even more remarkable. They don't really advertise at all for goodness sake but do they win prizes...yes they do...by the Tun (TUN..pun) geddit? and deservedly so. You may purchase beer online from Harvey's...I urge you to try it...incidentally I have no commercial association with them...save that of passing them large wads of cash over the years in pursuit of their excellent product.

Lewes November 5th

Well here's the jolly rhyme which traditionally accompanies Bonfire Night...quite gruesome as you can see.

Tonight Lewes has its night and the town becomes really quite anarchic...you have to be there to 'get it'.

Remember, remember the Fifth of November

The Gunpowder Treason and plot

I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes 'twas his intent


To blow up the King and the Parliament


Three score barrels of powder below


Poor old England to overthrow

By God's providence he was catch'd


With a dark lantern and burning match


Holler boys, holler boys, ring bells ring


Holler boys, holler boys, God Save the King!

A penny loaf to feed the Pope


A farthing o'cheese to choke him


A pint of beer to rinse it down


A faggot of sticks to burn him

Burn him in a tub of tar


Burn him like a blazing star


Burn his body from his head


Then we'll say old Pope is dead

Hip Hip Hoorah!


Hip Hip Hoorah!


Hip Hip Hoorah!

Raise the Standard!

The North Kent Coast has always held a fascination. From the Dickensian locations to Mr. Jorrocks' trip to Margate...there's a deep attachment. We decided to share this enthusiasm with some American friends who soon became equally entranced. From the wonders of the fabulous architecture of the Chatham dockyards via Faversham to the recently Islingtonised Whitstable (which succeeds, despite all, in clinging strongly to its roots) - Reculver, with its own twin towers of great antiquity and on to the new Tate Gallery outpost in Margate. The Tate I feel works better than its cousin in St.Ives, although maybe lacking the views, it enjoys better gallery space. Blessed with fine weather we enjoyed every moment. No trip for me is complete without a little automobile archaeology and the now quite rare gem shown was unearthed behind some buildings in Whitstable. It's a Standard Ensign the basic model of the Standard range introduced in 1957 and made up until the mid sixties. It seems that few of these bread and butter cars have survived and the Standard motor company has dissolved into that great scrapyard in the sky. I rather like the old Avery scales weight used as a chock in front of the offside wheel. Surprisingly she appears relatively rust free although it would require some diligent work to enable her to cruise the 'B' roads once more. Break open the Erinmore, suck on a Callard & Bowser boiled sweet, open the AA road book and discover the North Kent Coast!