This word is difficult to pronounce, but a useful concept. A mnemonic is a learning device to aid memory. For example, many of us use a simple mnemonic to help us remember the names of the five Great Lakes: HOMES, for Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, and Superior.
60 years ago, I was studying at Oxford for my final exams, leading to my BA degree . I still have the workbook that I used to assist my final preparation, which succeeded in bringing me what I believe I actually deserved: a safe entry into the upper half of a Second class honors degree. Almost all students took courses to lead (if successful!) to an Honors degree.There were a few Firsts, many Seconds (informally divided into upper and lower levels), a similar number of Thirds--and for a few folk, some Fourths. This might be the reward for brilliant answers that didn't respond to the actual questions...
(Apart from total failure, there was the possibility of "Sections". This meant that a little more study, etc., could bring you a Pass degree. You could still add "B.A.(Oxon)" after your name--but not "B.A.(Hons.) (Oxon)".
My "major" was English Language and Literature. For most students, this involved just two university-wide exams: "Prelims" and Finals .As an ex-serviceman, I was exempt from Prelims. So, in the summer of 1952, I needed to pass about a dozen separate exams over less than a week--or have no degree.
My system was to choose words to start my mnemonics, including an initial letter, which I memorized. Usually, the initial letters of the key phrases would form a word. I found that "off color" phrases were easier to remember, but one mnemonic was more seemly: "THE BIBLE AMEN". On other occasions I would try to remember a whole sentence.
Of course, we were not given the questions in advance of sitting down to take the exam. I managed to commit to memory some generic facts likely to feature in the exam questions.
When I began my studies, I was astonished to learn that the course involved nothing written after 1820--except there was a voluntary exam on "modern" literature of the 19th Century. (Few took this extra exam, as one was not excused one of the other papers.) So, no Dickens, Wordsworth, or Thackeray. Even the "modern" paper omitted T.S.Eliot and Rupert Brooke. I could, however, enjoy Jane Austen and consider that "work".
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Anticipation
Most of us think of anticipation in favorable terms.We look forward to something pleasurable or even exciting in the future. This could be anything from a family outing to a lovers' tryst. In time, our pleasures change: we look forward to a year-end bonus at work, a vacation cruise, or watching an important sporting event, such as the Super Bowl--although the latter may be more like a "stupor bowl" for some...
There comes a time when many look forward to retirement. Other anticipate the first drink of the day--and perhaps to "tying one on". As we age, we may look forward to going to bed--unaccompanied! I know that I am blessed with a healthy appetite, and look forward to almost all my meals, usually accompanied at dinner by a couple of modest glasses of wine...
Negative anticipation can have many forms. A British schoolboy may suffer between "sentencing" and punishment--especially if the punishment to be inflicted is still (in some places) a caning--as it was in my day, but never my fate. Driver and passengers in a car, skidding to an inevitable crash, may anticipate at least the expense and inconvenience, and often the expectation of bodily injury. I remember the V ! "flying bombs" from the end of WW!!, and the fear when the "buzzing" stopped, meaning that the bomb was falling to close for comfort..
There's also what I would call "neutral" anticipation. This occurs when one is aware that something is going to happen at some future date, known or unknown, but is indifferent to it. For example, England's (soccer) FA Cup Final will produce a winner, but I really don't care about the result--since the team I used to follow (West Bromwich Albion) won't make it this year, and maybe never in my remaining years.
I "anticipate" my death occurring, and this is also in that neutral category. It's inevitable; I'm in no hurry, nor do i want to try struggle and stay. past my "sell by date".
There comes a time when many look forward to retirement. Other anticipate the first drink of the day--and perhaps to "tying one on". As we age, we may look forward to going to bed--unaccompanied! I know that I am blessed with a healthy appetite, and look forward to almost all my meals, usually accompanied at dinner by a couple of modest glasses of wine...
Negative anticipation can have many forms. A British schoolboy may suffer between "sentencing" and punishment--especially if the punishment to be inflicted is still (in some places) a caning--as it was in my day, but never my fate. Driver and passengers in a car, skidding to an inevitable crash, may anticipate at least the expense and inconvenience, and often the expectation of bodily injury. I remember the V ! "flying bombs" from the end of WW!!, and the fear when the "buzzing" stopped, meaning that the bomb was falling to close for comfort..
There's also what I would call "neutral" anticipation. This occurs when one is aware that something is going to happen at some future date, known or unknown, but is indifferent to it. For example, England's (soccer) FA Cup Final will produce a winner, but I really don't care about the result--since the team I used to follow (West Bromwich Albion) won't make it this year, and maybe never in my remaining years.
I "anticipate" my death occurring, and this is also in that neutral category. It's inevitable; I'm in no hurry, nor do i want to try struggle and stay. past my "sell by date".
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Raffles
No, I don't mean the gentlemen jewel thief created by E. W. Hornung, the brother-in-law of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Nor am I referring to the historic Raffles Hotel in Singapore, which I once had the pleasure of visiting, and enjoying the famous rum-based Singapore Sling, invented there almost 100 years ago.
Instead, I want to talk about raffles as a fundraising device. I don't like these, partly on principle, although I have often cheerfully contributed to a neighborhood child's plea to support his school library or sports team.
I have always felt that gambling against the House is a mug's game. I very seldom make any kind of a monetary bet, although I have no objection to the concept of an even-chance bet with a friend. Accordingly, my pockets were not emptied recently when a couple of muffed punts kept the San Francisco 49ers out of the 2012 Superbowl.
Every year, the local PBS station (KQED) sends out a request for me to enter a raffle. It is illegal for the organizers to make the purchase of a ticket a condition of entry, so it is always stated in the fine print on the back page that you do not need to make a contribution to collect one of over a hundred prizes. For the price of a postage stamp, one can return all the numbers randomly assigned. I usually do this. (Barbara and I prefer to support the public television stations in our area (and near our Colorado "second home") with a tax-deductible donation.)
The return envelope has boxes at the back: one puts words on paper, telling How Cheerful the sender feels about contributing to KQED. The other box, in a smaller font, asks for a check if one is "not making a contribution at this time."
All the mailing is artfully designed to make the entrant suspicious that no prize will actually be awarded, unless a contribution is made. I trust that this is not true, but certainly I have never seen any publicity for a lucky winner who was "too cheap" to donate.
Nor am I referring to the historic Raffles Hotel in Singapore, which I once had the pleasure of visiting, and enjoying the famous rum-based Singapore Sling, invented there almost 100 years ago.
Instead, I want to talk about raffles as a fundraising device. I don't like these, partly on principle, although I have often cheerfully contributed to a neighborhood child's plea to support his school library or sports team.
I have always felt that gambling against the House is a mug's game. I very seldom make any kind of a monetary bet, although I have no objection to the concept of an even-chance bet with a friend. Accordingly, my pockets were not emptied recently when a couple of muffed punts kept the San Francisco 49ers out of the 2012 Superbowl.
Every year, the local PBS station (KQED) sends out a request for me to enter a raffle. It is illegal for the organizers to make the purchase of a ticket a condition of entry, so it is always stated in the fine print on the back page that you do not need to make a contribution to collect one of over a hundred prizes. For the price of a postage stamp, one can return all the numbers randomly assigned. I usually do this. (Barbara and I prefer to support the public television stations in our area (and near our Colorado "second home") with a tax-deductible donation.)
The return envelope has boxes at the back: one puts words on paper, telling How Cheerful the sender feels about contributing to KQED. The other box, in a smaller font, asks for a check if one is "not making a contribution at this time."
All the mailing is artfully designed to make the entrant suspicious that no prize will actually be awarded, unless a contribution is made. I trust that this is not true, but certainly I have never seen any publicity for a lucky winner who was "too cheap" to donate.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sex and Gender
Recently, the ACLU sent me a copy of the complete US Constitution, with all the amendments. I was glancing idly through this booklet, when I noticed the language of Amendment XIX. The first of two paragraphs reads as follows "The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex."
I was reminded of the first time that I attended the Episcopal Church's General Convention, as an alternate deputy from the Diocese of California. Some speaker used the term "gender", meaning "sex". A woman deputy who came from Seal Harbor, Maine - named Charity Waymouth, got up to protest the use of the word "gender". "That is a grammatical term", she said, and urged us to use the correct word in the future.
I thought of Charity's vain efforts, because now 30 years later, it is rare to hear the term "sex" used, except with respect to the sexual activity of persons or animals. I think this is a pity, and I always try to use these two important words (sex and gender) correctly.
At least, the mealy-mouthed killjoys didn't manage to amend the title of a certain TV program. I doubt that "Gender and the City" would have had much success...
I was reminded of the first time that I attended the Episcopal Church's General Convention, as an alternate deputy from the Diocese of California. Some speaker used the term "gender", meaning "sex". A woman deputy who came from Seal Harbor, Maine - named Charity Waymouth, got up to protest the use of the word "gender". "That is a grammatical term", she said, and urged us to use the correct word in the future.
I thought of Charity's vain efforts, because now 30 years later, it is rare to hear the term "sex" used, except with respect to the sexual activity of persons or animals. I think this is a pity, and I always try to use these two important words (sex and gender) correctly.
At least, the mealy-mouthed killjoys didn't manage to amend the title of a certain TV program. I doubt that "Gender and the City" would have had much success...
Monday, February 13, 2012
Trains - Part Two
Due to my error, we posted Part 3 before Part 2, so this is chronologically misplaced.
In the thirties, British mainline trains had been consolidated into four separate private companies: LMS (London, Midland & Scottish), LNER (London & North-Eastern), GWR (Great Western), and SR (Southern). Our convenient stations were on the SR, which had been electrified. This was convenient for fast trips to London's Victoria Station and the West End, but for me, familiarity bred contempt for this rather "boring" line.
My favorite was the GWR, which still used powerful steam engines. I enjoyed doing jigsaw puzzles, featuring the "Castle" and "King" classes of locomotive. I enjoyed the history of the company, headed in early days by the famous engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel. I mourned the passing (many years earlier) of the "Broad Gauge" tracks, which allowed passenger trains to offer a more comfortable ride than the "Narrow Gauge" lines; I felt that it was tragic that the GWR eventually had to convert to Narrow Gauge to conform to the majority choice.
Early in 1936, I was recovering from 'flu shortly before my 9th birthday, and I couldn't return to my boarding school during convalescence. I'll never know if my father had to "pull strings" but, to celebrate my birthday, my mother drove me to the GWR Works at Swindon, not normally open to visitors, and we were given a personally conducted tour. Not until many years later did I learn that I had been shown around by the General Manager, as if I were a young prince of the royal blood!
The LMS was probably the biggest and most profitable line, as it served the cities of Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester. as well as Scotland. There was a rivalry between the two northbound companies. The LNER's "Flying Scotsman" was matched by the LMS "Flying Scot". In 1936 came the "Coronation" (LNER) and the "Coronation Scot" (LMS), to celebrate the new reign of King George VI.. In London, the main LMS station was Euston, but also St. Pancras was an LMS terminus. In those days, no trains ran through London from North to South (or vice-versa). LNER used King's Cross for its main line, as well as Liverpool Street and Fenchurch Street, mainly used by commuters.. To this day, (on PBS) the initials "LNER" can be seen on the opening credits of the Poirot programs, which feature a fast steam train moving from left to right.
I'm not certain why I preferred the LNER to the LMS. It was a logical choice, since the LNER took the East Coast route, and was the line to take to reach Hull, Grimsby, and Immingham, the ports which received the imports of most of the timber brought in to the UK for G.H. Renton & Co, which my father controlled. As a small boy, I was probably more affected by the LNER's sleeker, silvery rolling stock, than by any family loyalty. To reach Scotland, one could take the overnight sleeper on either line, and the LNER coach for northern Scotland was at some point joined (probably at Perth) to the LMS train.
In 1938, our family enjoyed a summer seaside vacation at Nairn a few miles east of Inverness. The chauffeur (Frank Coles) drove my father there, while the rest of the family went by train. I was able to persuade my mother to take us on the LNER train north.There was a dining car on the train, and we enjoyed our evening meal there, but the dining car was taken off (also probably at Perth) during the night. To my delight, breakfast trays were brought aboard at Kingussie. It was there that I first enjoyed a "bannock", the Scottish version of a breakfast bread roll. Six years later, I took the same route to join my ship (H.M.S. "Norfolk") at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands. I remember looking forward to the breakfast tray at Kingussie, but in 1944 it seemed greasy and unappetizing. Perhaps my tastes had become more discriminating, but I really think that wartime had brought lower standards. Remember, north of Perth, we were in the care of the LMS. I'm glad I can't blame it on the LNER!
In the thirties, British mainline trains had been consolidated into four separate private companies: LMS (London, Midland & Scottish), LNER (London & North-Eastern), GWR (Great Western), and SR (Southern). Our convenient stations were on the SR, which had been electrified. This was convenient for fast trips to London's Victoria Station and the West End, but for me, familiarity bred contempt for this rather "boring" line.
My favorite was the GWR, which still used powerful steam engines. I enjoyed doing jigsaw puzzles, featuring the "Castle" and "King" classes of locomotive. I enjoyed the history of the company, headed in early days by the famous engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel. I mourned the passing (many years earlier) of the "Broad Gauge" tracks, which allowed passenger trains to offer a more comfortable ride than the "Narrow Gauge" lines; I felt that it was tragic that the GWR eventually had to convert to Narrow Gauge to conform to the majority choice.
Early in 1936, I was recovering from 'flu shortly before my 9th birthday, and I couldn't return to my boarding school during convalescence. I'll never know if my father had to "pull strings" but, to celebrate my birthday, my mother drove me to the GWR Works at Swindon, not normally open to visitors, and we were given a personally conducted tour. Not until many years later did I learn that I had been shown around by the General Manager, as if I were a young prince of the royal blood!
The LMS was probably the biggest and most profitable line, as it served the cities of Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester. as well as Scotland. There was a rivalry between the two northbound companies. The LNER's "Flying Scotsman" was matched by the LMS "Flying Scot". In 1936 came the "Coronation" (LNER) and the "Coronation Scot" (LMS), to celebrate the new reign of King George VI.. In London, the main LMS station was Euston, but also St. Pancras was an LMS terminus. In those days, no trains ran through London from North to South (or vice-versa). LNER used King's Cross for its main line, as well as Liverpool Street and Fenchurch Street, mainly used by commuters.. To this day, (on PBS) the initials "LNER" can be seen on the opening credits of the Poirot programs, which feature a fast steam train moving from left to right.
I'm not certain why I preferred the LNER to the LMS. It was a logical choice, since the LNER took the East Coast route, and was the line to take to reach Hull, Grimsby, and Immingham, the ports which received the imports of most of the timber brought in to the UK for G.H. Renton & Co, which my father controlled. As a small boy, I was probably more affected by the LNER's sleeker, silvery rolling stock, than by any family loyalty. To reach Scotland, one could take the overnight sleeper on either line, and the LNER coach for northern Scotland was at some point joined (probably at Perth) to the LMS train.
In 1938, our family enjoyed a summer seaside vacation at Nairn a few miles east of Inverness. The chauffeur (Frank Coles) drove my father there, while the rest of the family went by train. I was able to persuade my mother to take us on the LNER train north.There was a dining car on the train, and we enjoyed our evening meal there, but the dining car was taken off (also probably at Perth) during the night. To my delight, breakfast trays were brought aboard at Kingussie. It was there that I first enjoyed a "bannock", the Scottish version of a breakfast bread roll. Six years later, I took the same route to join my ship (H.M.S. "Norfolk") at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands. I remember looking forward to the breakfast tray at Kingussie, but in 1944 it seemed greasy and unappetizing. Perhaps my tastes had become more discriminating, but I really think that wartime had brought lower standards. Remember, north of Perth, we were in the care of the LMS. I'm glad I can't blame it on the LNER!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Trains, part three
I clearly remember the joy I felt in 1949, soon after I had returned from naval service in the Far East. I was lucky to have spent time in Ceylon, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Singapore, Malaya, Sarawak, China, and Japan. Now I would be able to return to the Continent of Europe, off limits since 1939, due to the German occupation.
My elder sister and I, with two friends, took a train from Calais to Paris, where we entered a train that took us to Austria, a wonderful journey. In Zurich, we changed into a train that took us almost all the way to Obergurgl, for our first skiing holiday. (We had to walk the last leg of the journey, while our baggage was brought up by road, but it was all part of a thrilling journey.)
A few years later, I remember the excitement of a train journey to meet my fiancée in Venice, my first visit to that romantic city. Then there was the trip awarded me by business friends on the reconstituted Orient Express. Three memorable train trips in Europe. But for sheer luxury, I have to choose the Blue Train journey Barbara and I made from Pretoria to Cape Town. We also loved the train ride to the Copper Canyon in Mexico.
We still love long distance train travel, although the many journeys we have made on AMTRAK from the Bay Area to Denver lack the luxury of those in Europe or South Africa. In fact, we are scheduled to take the overnight journey again next month. We start at 9:10 one morning, and arrive on the following evening in Colorado. Alas, AMTRAK has to yield to freight trains, so arrival time is not up to Mussolini's standards!
My elder sister and I, with two friends, took a train from Calais to Paris, where we entered a train that took us to Austria, a wonderful journey. In Zurich, we changed into a train that took us almost all the way to Obergurgl, for our first skiing holiday. (We had to walk the last leg of the journey, while our baggage was brought up by road, but it was all part of a thrilling journey.)
A few years later, I remember the excitement of a train journey to meet my fiancée in Venice, my first visit to that romantic city. Then there was the trip awarded me by business friends on the reconstituted Orient Express. Three memorable train trips in Europe. But for sheer luxury, I have to choose the Blue Train journey Barbara and I made from Pretoria to Cape Town. We also loved the train ride to the Copper Canyon in Mexico.
We still love long distance train travel, although the many journeys we have made on AMTRAK from the Bay Area to Denver lack the luxury of those in Europe or South Africa. In fact, we are scheduled to take the overnight journey again next month. We start at 9:10 one morning, and arrive on the following evening in Colorado. Alas, AMTRAK has to yield to freight trains, so arrival time is not up to Mussolini's standards!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Trains (part one)
As a small boy in England, I always loved model trains. I had a set of Hornby Gauge O equipment, which I steadily built up with gifts on my birthdays and at Christmas. I began setting up the track in the billiard room at our family home in Surrey, using the space under the billiard table. I didn't care much about the station buildings and other scenic embellishments: I just wanted an oval track and "points", where trains could be sent onto a different set of rails.
After a time, I was allowed to move everything into the loft over the stable buildings, which had become a three-car garage. I began with clockwork trains, and later converted to an electric system, which allowed me to start, stop, and make adjustments to the speed of the engine. My elder sister had little interest in trains, but in time my younger sister enjoyed her set of Hornby "dublo" (00 gauge) trains, which took up a lot less space.
My enthusiasm waned when I went to my (British style) boarding prep school at the age of 8. I can't even remember what happened to my toy trains when I grew out of them. My love of trains continued, but it was transferred to scale models in which one could actually ride. I particularly remember the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch railway, which ran along the south coast between Kent and Sussex. It is a one-third scale model of a main line train. My prep school was at Broadstairs, a short drive away from the Hythe terminus of the line, and from time to time my parents would take me there when they visited me at the school.
I am glad to report that the line is still in operation, 75 years after I first knew of it. Hythe can easily be reached from the M20 motorway, which was not even dreamed of during my childhood.
More about my "romance" with trains will be featured in future blogs.
After a time, I was allowed to move everything into the loft over the stable buildings, which had become a three-car garage. I began with clockwork trains, and later converted to an electric system, which allowed me to start, stop, and make adjustments to the speed of the engine. My elder sister had little interest in trains, but in time my younger sister enjoyed her set of Hornby "dublo" (00 gauge) trains, which took up a lot less space.
My enthusiasm waned when I went to my (British style) boarding prep school at the age of 8. I can't even remember what happened to my toy trains when I grew out of them. My love of trains continued, but it was transferred to scale models in which one could actually ride. I particularly remember the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch railway, which ran along the south coast between Kent and Sussex. It is a one-third scale model of a main line train. My prep school was at Broadstairs, a short drive away from the Hythe terminus of the line, and from time to time my parents would take me there when they visited me at the school.
I am glad to report that the line is still in operation, 75 years after I first knew of it. Hythe can easily be reached from the M20 motorway, which was not even dreamed of during my childhood.
More about my "romance" with trains will be featured in future blogs.
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