This just in from across the equator, whence Comrade Trevor is kind enough to entertain me.
Naturally Bridge Club’s Antipodean Correspondent plans ahead and Picture One demonstrates what’s in his thinking, dinnerwise.
There follows a convoluted but motorbikey tale of coincidences and a bridge that’s no longer there. For those new to Bridge Club it’s probably worth saying that Harry is Trevor’s Harris Matchless motorcycle, also his Yamaha motorcyle:-
“I was doing a short notice stand-in session at the local Pilots Cottage Museum the other day. In the Cottage there’s a large display about local girl made good (if tragic) Charmian Clift. While there I browsed through an extract from Sylvie Simmons’ I’m Your Man, the life of Leonard Cohen. Before reading it I hadn’t realised the link between Charmian and Lenny.
“When Lenny first arrived on Hydra in 1960, long before he’d met ‘Marianne’ and bought a house there, he’d been welcomed and ‘taken in’ by Charmian and husband George Johnson, both earning their living by writing, something Lenny only aspired to at the time.
Pics 2 & 3
“Here’s Harry waiting patiently by Charmian Clift reserve which runs alongside Spring Creek. The creek turns a sharp left just beyond the pole at the end of the road and this is where the old bridge used to cross the creek. The blue house on the left was Charmian’s birthplace. She wasn’t there long before moving a few doors up and across the road en route to London and Hydra.
“From my aerie on the hill, courtesy my ancient short tele lens, you can see the line of the old road between the reserve and the blue house on this side of the bypass, and on the opposite side of the new road through the line of trees where the footpath is now. Between the two points is where the earlier 2 lane bridge used to be, but of it there is no sign extant. The new bridge carrying the 6 lane bypass sweeps through an arc from the northern point of the earlier bridge to a new landing point some 75 metres or so further west.
Pics 5 & 6
“Now here’s Harry on the southern then northern sides of the bridge that’s no longer there. I’ve driven over the old bridge many times but not for several years, maybe longer. Can I recall how it looked and the precise angle at which it crossed the creek? I cannot. Have I been able to find a photo of the bridge and the crossing? I have not. Maps? Yes. Pics? No.
“Tittle tattle really borne of an overcast day, but I thought it might amuse momentarily.”
Thanks to T, as always he is “Incomparable Master of the Inner Rider”, when I was a teenager all my motorcycles were called “Midnight Rambler”..
Anyone out there with a fifty year old snap of the old bridge in question?
I wonder how T.S. Eliot would have named his motorcycles? –
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.