thompson1780
|
|
« Reply #240 on: 21:45:54, 21-06-2008 » |
|
I am the only person whose right ear is visible...
Only. Are you wearing a hat as well as standing up? Amazing - a single person in two seemingly separate bodies (or is there a link behind something green?) Actually, what is under that hat? Perhaps a device which inverts right and left for teh wearer, in which case Mr Barrett is correct. Tommo
|
|
|
Logged
|
Made by Thompson & son, at the Violin & c. the West end of St. Paul's Churchyard, LONDON
|
|
|
Turfan Fragment
|
|
« Reply #241 on: 21:59:33, 21-06-2008 » |
|
I am surely not the only one to wonder why there is a black railing separating messrs RB GG and M from the remainder of the party. What is that railing for?
|
|
|
Logged
|
|
|
|
Il Grande Inquisitor
|
|
« Reply #242 on: 22:21:38, 21-06-2008 » |
|
If there has been an operatic production in the South of England in the past five years which neither of these two has seen, then it was not worthwhile in any case.
...whereas an operatic production in the South of England seen by me but not by Ruth is truly a rarity! Thanks for the photos and the company. Sorry that somehow I didn't manage to exchange any words with Messrs Torquemada and Eruanto but I hope that will work out next time.
Hopefully we'll have chance on another occasion, Richard. And for those who haven't worked it out yet, the 'chap in the white suit' (beige, technically, but the white linen one may appear at Sadler's Wells tomorrow, given fine weather!) doing an impression of Alec Guinness for Mort and George is indeed yours truly.
|
|
|
Logged
|
Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency
|
|
|
Eruanto
|
|
« Reply #243 on: 22:29:26, 21-06-2008 » |
|
I am surely not the only one to wonder why there is a black railing separating messrs RB GG and M from the remainder of the party. What is that railing for? To stop sooch as th' yoong man in t'tee shirt and the contemplative soft focus gentleman from falling about too much. Hopefully we'll have chance on another occasion, Richard. Yes, I hope so too.
|
|
|
Logged
|
"It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set"
|
|
|
A
|
|
« Reply #244 on: 23:00:03, 21-06-2008 » |
|
Here is martle looking aghast for some reason I don't know and a nice bloke in a white suit expostulates to his left (our right). Two as yet unidentified women adopt a matching position with chin on hand. A fiend for Bach fugues in the front - back view. O and another composer in the background. The 'lady' on the left is A. The other one is not !! A
|
|
|
Logged
|
Well, there you are.
|
|
|
Baz
Guest
|
|
« Reply #245 on: 23:08:27, 21-06-2008 » |
|
The 'lady' on the left is A. The other one is not !!
A
...so I suppose the identity of the "Bach fiend" to whom she is smiling is therefore self-evident?
|
|
|
Logged
|
|
|
|
Morticia
|
|
« Reply #246 on: 00:05:52, 22-06-2008 » |
|
I may be wrong about this because some details of the evening are a little unclear in my mind but I believe that at this point Martle was not so much aghast as agape, trying to catch his own nuts being thrown at him by Mort. Agape moves in mysterious ways.
George,
|
|
|
Logged
|
|
|
|
Kittybriton
|
|
« Reply #247 on: 04:43:07, 22-06-2008 » |
|
I will wait patiently for the arrival of your pics <finger tapping emoticon>
|
|
|
Logged
|
Click me -> About meor me -> my handmade storeNo, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm only a halfwit. In fact I'm actually a catfish.
|
|
|
Don Basilio
|
|
« Reply #248 on: 08:44:52, 22-06-2008 » |
|
I am surely not the only one to wonder why there is a black railing separating messrs RB GG and M from the remainder of the party. What is that railing for?
To be boring, the courtyard with the table is raised above the pub. RB et al are standing on a lower level to the courtyard on a level with the pub door. There is a rail to stop people falling down the six inch gap between the courtyard and the pub. The English are sticklers for health and safety. In fact the courtyard is at the level of Borough High Street. The pub is clearly lower than street level. What is not apparent in any photo is that the pub is almost the only surviving coaching inn, in parts, and due to its immense antiquity, is at a lower level than the street.
|
|
|
Logged
|
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
|
|
|
Don Basilio
|
|
« Reply #249 on: 08:47:34, 22-06-2008 » |
|
And here, to go towards satisfying his vanity, is tinners in the background. In the foreground two gents in theatrical discussions
|
|
|
Logged
|
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
|
|
|
Don Basilio
|
|
« Reply #250 on: 08:57:54, 22-06-2008 » |
|
What is not apparent in any photo is that the pub is almost the only surviving coaching inn, in parts,
This is mentioned in Dicken's Little Dorrit. The most famous Dickens scene in a Southwark pub, where Mr Pickwick meets that cheery and intensely irritating Cockney chappy Sam Weller, is in the former White Hart, here
|
|
|
Logged
|
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
|
|
|
time_is_now
|
|
« Reply #251 on: 13:04:40, 22-06-2008 » |
|
And here, to go towards satisfying his vanity, is tinners in the background. In the foreground two gents in theatrical discussions
So as not to confuse people who are trying to match up names to photos, I should explain that the gentleman in the purple T-shirt with the nice chest is not a member of this forum, although he is related by agape to one. He says thank you for the lovely photo, Don, although he claims his posture is bad (I can't see it myself, but he knows about these things).
|
|
|
Logged
|
The city is a process which always veers away from the form envisaged and desired, ... whose revenge upon its architects and planners undoes every dream of mastery. It is [also] one of the sites where Dasein is assigned the impossible task of putting right what can never be put right. - Rob Lapsley
|
|
|
Turfan Fragment
|
|
« Reply #252 on: 15:08:12, 22-06-2008 » |
|
...the gentleman in the purple T-shirt with the nice chest...
This is to distinguish him from which other gentleman in a purple t-shirt? Is there one far in the background with a sort of lumpy and undignified chest?
|
|
|
Logged
|
|
|
|
Don Basilio
|
|
« Reply #253 on: 15:49:41, 22-06-2008 » |
|
(Just been to the cupboard to verify the labels. It does look like tweed, honest. Not brash huntin' shootin' and fishin' tweed, but subtly understated metropolitan tweed. Not that you'd expect anything else from me, I hope.)
Ah, for us Americans, that's strictly a closet; the cupboard is for cups and saucers. Thought you'd be interested to know that. There is a similar distinction in English English (I will not answer for Scots usage.) Crockery goes in a cupboard. Clothes go in a wardrobe - all those earnest young American fundamentalists who are only allowed to read fiction if it is by C S Lewis must need a glossary for the title page, The lion, the witch and the what?.Closet is an archaic word for a small room, but it does have one current technical usage, notably on architectural plans. The loo is referred to as "the WC" standing for Water Closet. This means when the British use the useful American term for unacknowledged homosexuality, it has slightly squalid overtones.
|
|
« Last Edit: 15:56:33, 22-06-2008 by Don Basilio »
|
Logged
|
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
|
|
|
Don Basilio
|
|
« Reply #254 on: 15:54:37, 22-06-2008 » |
|
he claims his posture is bad (I can't see it myself, but he knows about these things).
Don't mention it, tinners. I think he means his hands, which look a bit odd. But either we have candid snaps like this, or we spend all evening posing. As if we would ever.
|
|
|
Logged
|
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance
|
|
|
|