More cars at the Rock

As I said this time last year, every year, on the Valentine's Day weekend, the Macedon Ranges & District Motor Club hosts the 'Picnic at Hanging Rock' car show. It's a great event with thousands of interesting cars in a unique venue and really is a giant picnic. Here's this year's selection, starting (above) with a Yank Tank in front of the Rock.

While there's a fair amount of repetition of popular classics, there's enough rare and odd stuff if you keep looking. There's a French bias in this list, just because the French built so much neat machinery. After all what car show would be complete without a DS Goddess?

The Nash above is the first of many contenders of why the American machines are bigger than the British; although a Mini on the wing's hardly fair!

Good to see an old friend from London.

That famous signature logo pops up all over.

Australian icon, the early Holden.

And of course a good representation from Germany. Beetles (or Bugs) are still popular worldwide, but Australia has a good representation of the other 60s types on the road as well.

However you don't see many of these here, however common they are in Europe. This one for Greg!

I'm not sure, but I think that may be Thunderbird 9. FAB!*

Neat logo, and an English reminder. Not so exotic in the local lingo, sadly.

Winner of Best Commercial and oldest driver (at 88, for the owner) this magnificent Thornycroft, with solid tyres.

And if your parents are dedicated, no need for the young ones to miss out. However the green machines 'off-driveway' capability seemed as limited as you'd expect. Think the motor got a bit grumpy.

Just in from the Sudan, or possibly a Victorian barn...

The locals were very patient with all the visitors. This guy seemed a lot more sensible than his many admirers (they are wild animals and they can kick hard, folks). The Moggies seemed almost as rare this year.

One of the overall views. It's a great venue.

And to finish, Austin corner. Didn't Noddy drive one of these?

More pictures, including the above, can be seen here in my photo account.

James

*Thanks to the various people who've kindly helped the idiot who tried to make a lame joke about how the car looks a bit like one of the Thunderbird Supermarionation machines, and was nothing to do with Ford Thunderbird cars, or the USAF Thunderbirds, or a drink or any stations west... It's actually a 1965 Buick Rivera. Please do not continue to write in.

Tricolore towels

Tricolore towels

Cop Fodder

In America, the cops hang out at the donut shop. In France...

Paris, 2008.

James

How to ... build a brand-new castle

One of the areas of history I find particularly interesting is known as 'experimental archaeology', or, in more comprehensible terms, trying out historical methods and equipment to see how they really work and what is different to how we thing they work. Aristotelian bending the brain alone has its place, but as anyone who works with their hands will tell you, book learning and theory won't cover all you need to do the job for real.

Large examples of experimental archaeology include the modern replica of an ancient Greek Trireme, Olympias (details here) and the modern recreation of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre (an earlier post on that here). In both cases they are not exact recreations of what they are exploring, but the compromises are (mostly) known and the lessons that have appeared as a result of building a recreation of 'the real thing' have changed our understanding of both Shakespearian theatre and Classical naval warfare - interestingly explaining some aspects of contemporary accounts that puzzled modern scholars and also opening avenues of questions and study previously unconsidered. I'd love to see Olympias in action, but maybe not be a rower (I'm too big to be an ancient Greek, since you ask) but I'm proud to have been a modern 'groundling' on the South Bank.

From the Chateau's website.

One might assume we know all there is to know about building a castle, and a new castle would be the ultimate in follies.

And they are building a castle, in France as the BBC reports:

Deep in the forests of central France, an unusual architectural experiment is half-way to completion, as a team of masons replicates in painstaking detail the construction of an entire medieval castle.

The ­Chateau de Guedelon was started in 1998, after local landowner Michel Guyot wondered whether it would be possible to build a castle from scratch, using only contemporary tools and materials.

What's interesting is what is coming out of the experiment already:

Experts are fascinated by what the experiment can teach about medieval building methods.

One example concerns lime kilns, used for making the mortar. Archaeologists had often wondered why they found traces of two separate kilns at construction sites.

Experience at Guedelon showed that, in a day's work, builders often needed to top up the mortar brought in from the main kiln with small amounts made close at hand. Hence the small second kiln actually inside the castle.

The discolouring of lime-based mortar is another revelation. Within one or two years of being laid, Guedelon's walls are already showing streaks of unsightly white where the lime is leaching.

Archaeologists think this is a clue to why medieval castles were very quickly plastered and painted: it was to hide the mess.

BBC

While currently it is being treated as an academically rigorous exercise, it started out as an 'eccentric pipe dream'. Also revealing is the need for a theoretical mediaeval 'owner' to centre the project around, rather than being able to run it as an abstract model. As one of the guides said:

"Funnily enough, we found that even though we knew we were being accurate, somehow the castle lacked soul. So we invented a character - the owner - who would have likes and dislikes, wanting this and not wanting that," says Ms Preston.

So how cool is that? Certainly it would add a je ne sais... mais exactement to studying a castle in school.

The BBC report here, and the official website is here and a Wiki entry here.

James

USB Wine

At last, no need to drive to drink. Finally those clever French people have found a way to make the internet truely useful - the USB Wine attachment. Cliquez ici just like it says!

Coming soon?

Rats.

Australia Day 1: 1788 and all that

Today is Australia Day. It's the 222nd anniversary of the First Fleet arriving in what was to become Australia on 26 January 1788, starting the European settlement of Australia that has continued to this day. The Sydney Museum has an excellent model of the First Fleet ships on show (below) and I wonder how many of those aboard realised they were arriving in mid-summer?

Understandably, there is a view that the Aboriginal peoples who were already living here may have a rather less positive perception of the arrival of these convicts, sailors and marines. Although it has no effect on the tragic history of Aboriginal rights and life since that day, it's often forgotten that Australia really is entirely a land of immigrants as all the humans arrived from overseas - the earliest remains found in Australia are Mungo Man from 40,000 years ago. Estimates often giving a remarkably recent figure (in pre-history terms) of between 40,000 to 50,000 years for the first colonisation of the continent, although some believe it to be much earlier.

Of course the First Fleet was a direct result of the arrival of Lieutenant James Cook in His Majesty's Barque Endeavour on one of the world's great voyages of exploration. (The introductory image at the top shows the replica of HMB Endeavour sailing up the Yarra in Melbourne.) Again, an aspect of Cook's exploration of the Eastern coast of Australia and the arrival of the First Fleet is that it could so easily have been a French story, as the French Navy were literally on the spot - or in the natural harbours - at both events. While there are a scattering of French names (particularly in Tasmania - itself based on a Dutch navigator's name) it's a monolingual Anglophone culture in law. Yet it could have been like Canada, with a foot in both French and British culture and language, or a member of the Francophone world like -er- Monaco.

Often overlooked near the Circular Quay in Sydney is this mosaic map (above) showing the very first developments of what was much later to become the city of Sydney, Australia's eternal second best conurbation.

Of course, the First Fleet was the beginning of a social experiment that failed at its origin - to export 'the criminal class' from Britain, and to develop colonies with these prisoners. No one has yet managed to export their 'criminal class', so that part was a failure, but we seem to have managed to build quite a habitable country on this unprepossessing foundation. The convicts would try to escape from the marines and soldiers (obviously to get to what would become Victoria and Melbourne from the rather inferior Sydney and New South Wales) as seen above at Sovereign Hill historical re-enactment. But to get away they would have to get through the Blue Mountains (below) one of Australia's natural wonders which is essentially untouched except for the viewing platforms and coach parking (not included in the picture).
And when it's been another great Australia Day here, and we are rolling home with a beaut sunset to the West, it's the start of another cold, winter's day in Britain. We've just celebrated five years and one day here, and it's bonzer, mate.

James (a Melburnian)

Produit d'Australie

The world may not be desperate for Vegemite, but thanks to Canada's language laws, it is available in French. One side of the Canadian jars point out that it's tartinare de levure concentree, which just proves that some things aren't sexier or more attractive in French. Thanks to Pam & Jim for ensuring the jar was available for my Canadian visits. I suspect it'll last until the 22nd Century.

James

[Much is written about Vegemite's addictiveness or repulsiveness. Only three things matter though: No one's indifferent to the taste. If you didn't grow up on it, you are unlikely to like it. Anyone claiming to be an Aussie outside of Australia can be checked for authenticity by finding their jar of Vegemite in the cupboard. No jar, not an Aussie.]

"We'll always have Paris"

Some places have a love affair thrust upon them by art. Paris is certainly a city loved by film, arguably in ways few other cities do. Certainly it's a city where the film makers are prepared to collude in the myth and avoid the seedier side of the reality; something that Venice, for instance, doesn't receive. London and New York have the gritty films out of the traps -- there are love stories filmed there, but few that are love affairs with those two rumbustious metropoli.

Here's a set of four films featuring the lighter, gayer side of Paris.

Fauteuils d'orchestre (badly translated as 'Orchestra Seats' for the English release, excepting the USA which gets 'Avenue Montaigne' instead; another fine example of importers' disservice to their art.) Starring Cécile De France as the protagonist, showing remarkably poor taste -- the man she gets it together with is clearly going to be a relationship disaster.... However this saves the film from descending into too much high quality sugar; and while the plot doesn't bear much examination, it is an enjoyable ode to a kind of up-market side to Paris. It got quite a hammering in the reviews; here's a more positive one.

It works well as a chance for good actors to show their stuff (sometimes over-egging it!) and some not-quite-fully-realised exploration of the nature of art and the bourgeoisie's relationship to it. The back story to the pianist's antipathy to the stranglehold of concerts is based on the (real) pianist's rather dramatic battles against the same stultifying suits and building.

But one of the favourite actors in the film was the theatre building. Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, a great Art Deco building with swoonable banisters. A certain pointy tower is dragged into the background with monotonous regularity, and they also use a typical Paris café carefully, as one could almost see them avoiding...

Amélie, or in French 'Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain', who needs no introduction here, I'm sure, but is in so many ways a precursor to Seats. The difference is clear, too, in that Amélie makes no attempt to be 'realistic' but works as a kind of semi-adult fairy tale.

Which leads neatly to Ratatouille, one where the film-makers stuck to their guns with the title (helped by the integral nature of it to the story) to the extent of having a pronunciation guide below on the posters for certain markets.

Yes, this too has a certain metal tower plonked in many shots, but the focus is in the detail - of the rats, the food, the idea of good food (another blow for diversity, along with the title) and the details of Paris' buildings and the cars and mopeds -- delightfully exaggerated. For the detail geeks, Colette's motorbike bears a recognisably foodie Italian brand, but I need a Pixar 2CV.

I also want to know why Pixar, having worked so hard to get the food and dining experience right, can't tell the difference between herbs and spices?

Still Pixar managed to do a lot better than the remarkably, joyfully bad back projection in the film that gave us our title. While Rick and Ilsa may always have Paris, Warner Bros and Michael Curtiz had to do without, due to a number of Germans on site. Casablanca is a classic for many reasons, but its 'Paris' is not one of them.

Finally comes Paris, je t'aime, a film we both enjoyed enormously, and a good pick for a desert island movie. It's short story format shows what diversity film can have. From the pretentious to the touching, from the comically exaggerated -- including mime -- to the remarkably understated, it seems to have a little of everything that cinema does well. A stellar cast helps, while guessing the director for each section is a good game. While this shows many other sides of the city, and many sequences don't actually have that tower featured -- probably against some Parisien filming ordinance. Some episodes are one trick denouements, but that only throws the re-viewer back on the acting and direction -- and the background city so much in the foreground.

Are there other Parisien films that should be included? Are there other cities that regularly have film-makers turn up to sell the light, lovable myth? Let us know your thoughts, and we may return to this topic.

James

[Stills & poster from film publicity - of course. Credited as such.]

July 25th, 1909

"I am alone. I can see nothing at all. For ten minutes, I am lost."

Many people have been very pleased to see the white cliffs of Dover come into sight. Only one of them won a 1,000 pound prize by crash-landing just above them.


It's 99 years today since a small, determined Frenchman with a remarkable moustache and a badly burned foot managed to get lost and then re-find the right direction to cross the 20 odd miles between Britain and France. Unable to walk without crutches, and (the story goes) also saved by a passing rain shower cooling his overheating 30 hp Anzini engine, Louis undertook what is generally now recognised to be one of the great steps forward in aviation and world history.

Louis' original Channel conquering Bleriot at the Musée des Arts et Metiers, Paris.

Having been flown around the world in airliners that travel more than twelve times Louis' best speed, it seems superfluous to point out how much progress there has been in linking the world, here commenced with ending one form of Britain's splendid isolation. Just climbing up to see Bleriot's original aeroplane on a slightly bouncy gantry in the Museum was enough for your intrepid correspondent.


Rightly, Louis' achievements are recognised in aviation in numerous ways. His flight has been regularly recreated by various adventurers, not least the Salis' family who are aiming, next year, I understand, to undertake their third generation (grandfather, father, and sons) of Bleriot Channel crossings.

One of his achievements was what is now regarded as the standard flight controls, rudder bar for rudder control, stick for the other two dimensions. This is well shown in this original Bleriot cockpit in London's Science Museum.

The colour photos are not of Louis Bleriot's take off, but Michael Carlsen flying his Swedish built Bleriot at the recent Flying Legends show at Duxford.


"To fly from Paris or London to New York will be commonplace."
Louis Blériot


Today there is a plaque in a model of of Bleriot's monoplane at the landing place on Dover's cliffs - photo (and heading shot) by my contact Sigurjón Valsson.


Vive la France!

A Glass Lion in a Church of Reason

Tuesday, 3rd June was a great day in Paris. We first went to the Musée des Arts et Metiers, which was, currently free, putting it ahead of most museums we’ve visited so far, and uncrowded, putting it significantly ahead of the Louvre which was a zoo.

This museum includes a great range of items, some choice examples of which are shown below. (-And it's in an ex-Abbey church, an added bonus!)


One top one was a life-size model of a lion being attacked by a snake, and with a fly on its flank, all made as a demonstration of the possibilities of spun glass. Some company placement!

Sundials? For weaklings. What we want is a sundial which fires a miniature cannon at the correct hour. Telling the time...

This little item is a mechanical marionette which played for Marie Antoinette. She may have had a rebuild or two, but she's still got her head.


And there were several very old aircraft. This is Adler's steam powered aircraft - it flew, briefly, and crashed. The engine is a work of art...


The unimpressive looking item in the middle is Galileo's telescope. Proof positive it's not the tools, but the user that counts...

Unbeatable, and mentioned by Greg from his last visit (and well spotted Sean, have a warm fuzzy feeling) is Bleriot's original aircraft that he flew the Channel with. Getting up on the gantry was a wobbly vertiginous experience, not enjoyed by many (I hated it more than any flight I've been on) but then, looking at this aircraft that Louis got lost midway in a cloud, gave me a sense of proportion about it all. Brave man, and a bit of a hero. And he had a leg in plaster!


We then went onto the Musée d'Orsay: the Louvre's collection from 1848(ish) to the early 20th century, so it's got 'the good stuff' [according to James! - Ed.] and is light on: a) Jesus & his mum (JDK TM) and has smaller b) crowds and is c) in an old railway station - score.



Oxford's Sheldonian is surrounded by statues known by some as 'the history of beards'. This appeared to be a French version...

A stunning model of the Paris Opera. We couldn't find the coin slot to get the fat lady to sing, but otherwise it was perfect...


Art class was never like this when I was studying...


[... Oh, except for the kids not paying attention in the back - Ed.]

And then some random Paris moments to wrap up. London's Tube iconography is hard to beat, but the Metro's about there, I think.

What, why?

DINNER!
[Cop an eyeful of those Tarts! Snarf, Snarf, smmmfff. - B]


And dinner window shopping...



We managed to have dinner with our friends Eileen and Greg from Toronto, and the waiter kindly took a picture on Eileen's camera (pic stolen from her...) - of himself - then of us!


And a final flag foto from me...


Cheers,
James (with added bits by Bev)