Showing posts with label Fish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fish. Show all posts

Tuesday 2 August 2022

Victorian Fishing Scene


What a good picture this is.  'The Mornings Catch,' by James Clark Hook, 1877.
This tells us much about the rough lives out forefathers lived.  Not just the danger of all night fishing in rough seas, often quite far out to sea, but also the hard work left for the women in the morning.  The fish has to be sorted, taken by creel to where customers lay in wait, and hopefully a good deal done, possibly door to door.  This on top of whatever house they possessed, possibly rented, stone or hard dirt floor, outside toilet, no running water, several children at that time being sent to school, and normal daily routine had to be followed.  
There was of course no pension, no welfare state, and people worked until they dropped, unless they, or a relative got lucky and made a fortune.  Fortunes in the 19th century could of course be made and lost within a generation.  Limited medicine, no painkillers bar chloroform, smoking, poor diet, though the fisherfolk and farmers could manage reasonably well, and most dead by their 50s.   
James Clark Hook 1819 - 1907, became quite famous for his sea pictures.  He painted so many they were known as 'Hookscapes.'  
I must admit I like sea pictures and this one, the view, the colours and the reflection of life in late Victorian Cornwall (at least many were painted there) appears true to life.  Painting however, does not indicate the smell of the fish!  In this way we are lucky.  


Monday 18 January 2021

Women's Work!

 

The brief glimpse of sunshine that entered via the grubby kitchen window today revealed the dust that not only swirled in the air as I walked but also lay in thick layers on various items of furniture.  This surprised me as I dusted, hoovered, swept and polished two weeks before christmas and cannot imagine how it became so dusty this quickly.
So, instead of doing useful things like reading and playing solitaire I splashed bleach across the bathroom, 'Brillo Padded' the sink, and much of the floor, rubbed, pushed, sweated and struggled until it was half clean.  The Loo floor, where much rubbish landed, can wait.
The dust was scraped from the unused TV and the various bits attached, much to the spiders dislike.  Dust circles around me still!  Tops dusted, here, there and everywhere, and only the hoovering to do to make the place look habitable.  However, as I have lost one piece from a new Jig-saw that my niece gave at Christmas, this comprised an old photogrpah she found turned into a jig-saw, I therefore cannot hoover until I get down on my hands and knees and search all the floor first.  This could take some time.  
Ironing, it can wait, though it does require dusting again...
Then it was the kitchen, the Hob was polished, the metal shelving inside the cooker was scrubbed with the wire thingy, and the cooker itself will be done soon, honestly.  
So, where are all the women helpers?
My back aches, my arms ache, everything else wabbles a bit, and there is still much to do.
Do you remember the 'Flash' advert in the late 50s?  Here a woman with a black and white tiled floor pushed a mop in a straight line across the floor.  A clear distinction was noted between the bit 'Flash' cleaned and the grubby floor around.  Many women fell for this, even if they did not have such floors.
Of course the stuff did not clean any better than what other cleaners offered, and today I saw this in action.  Another powerful cleaner that, if left for 15 minutes, will clean the grubbiest grime.  
No it will not!
They forget to remind you about the muscular effort required!
Even then it is not perfect.
These things are all the same, only the amount of detergent or soap bubbles varies, the results depend on your effort and the regularity of use.  
That however, explains the bath...


Parliament Square is choc-a-bloc with Scottish fishing Lorries protesting about the death of their trade caused by Boris and his 'treaty.'  He has been on promising delights in 5 years time, money to support now, and once again lying in his teeth as another aspect of his work falls apart.  Still, the media will support him, Brexiteers will swallow this, especially those living in France and Spain!
 
 
On facebook, that source of knowledge not found anywhere else, I placed a picture of two books I wanted for Christmas. This was good as soon one of these books arrived, then another, and today a third copy of the same book!  How do you keep this from three people?
Three copies, and Mike Smith did not write any of them, sitting proudly on the shelf.  The book is good, I finished it quickly, and the photos were wonderful, however I do think families ought to communicate together better. 
Anyway, the other book is still missing...
 

Monday 14 October 2013

The Awful Smell of Fish!




Fish, the 'experts' say is good for you.  I believed them!  I bought some Haddock from Sainsburys, two to a packet, and on Saturday grilled one until burnt as you should.  I cleaned up as usual, slowly, and left the windows open for a while.  In the morning when I came through from the west wing I opened the door and was greeted by what is best described as the inside of a trawler hull! The place (should that be 'plaice' I wonder?) stunk.  While sitting in it I had not realised how bad it was.  Bah!
Sunday lunch was the other portion of burnt Haddock.  It tasted the same, it probably did me good, but it left the same fragrance throughout the building.  I took the usual precautions, cleaned appropriately, opened windows, but today once again I walked into a thick vapour of fish.  
I cleaned the place again, I even cleaned the oven, and it is nowhere near March, I scrubbed and left windows open, and thoroughly cleaned away the smell.  However after a walk in the rain, where I was reminded about the holes in the soles, I returned to the stench of Tench, well Haddock.  Even the Kippers I once, and only once, bought, did not whiff like these.  So I sit here, windows and doors ajar, the cold wind bringing the rain inside to get warm, while my only source of heat comes from the curried mince I am making for lunch.  Now that is one aroma I can suffer happily!

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