Historical Bits About Punch & Judy, Red Telephone Boxes, & Bunting

The Streets Of London

The Calm Before The [Diamond Jubilee] Storm

It felt a bit like the calm before the storm last week when my husband David and I visited London seeing as it was the run-up to the five days of festivities this week for Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee to celebrate her sixty years on the throne.

Although things were revving up somewhat and you saw emerging telltale signs that the city was in store for something special, the merrymaking hadn’t officially begun. So what we saw on the streets was low on the razzle-dazzle scale compared to all the jubilee pageantry and spectacle that we have all witnessed this week.

Nevertheless I think London is always full of bits and bobs that are grand to come upon and learn more about, including what follows here.

From Punchman To Punch

There he was, luring my husband David and I with his bright colors in a shop window – and no doubt you’ve also seen this commanding fellow either in person or in print:

He’s the character Punch who is part of the Punch and Judy duo, a traditional English popular puppet show.

Other characters pop up on stage along with Punch and Judy – which invariably leads to a bit of an anarchic, thespian free-for-all that gets the spectators laughing.

Mr Punch

It turns out that traditionally the single puppeteer who performs the show was known as a ‘professor’ or ‘punchman’ in Victorian times – which is, of course, where our hero Punch here gets his name.

The Helpful Bottler

A punchman was sometimes helped out by a ‘bottler’ – that is, the name given to the person who tries to corral an audience, introduces the show, and finally collects the money (‘the bottle’) at the end of the performance.

The bottler would often play accompanying music (in Victorian times the drum and pan pipes were generally used) or do sound effects or chat back to the puppets. The latter often consisted of repeating lines the puppets said that might have been difficult for the audience to understand.

These days punchmen usually work on their own because they often get gigs at private parties or public engagements so they are paid beforehand and not busking on the streets.

Pulcinella to Punchinello to Punch

Punch and Judy have their roots in the commedia dell’arte of 16th-century Italy, a form of theatre with masked ‘types’.

Commedia dell’arte had many actors and players who commanded high fees – which is what led in the 17th century to bringing in string puppets (known as marionettes) who replaced the actors.

Punch’s figure is taken from the Neapolitan character Pulcinella, which was later anglicised to Punchinello. He’s fashioned after the mythological Lord of Misrule, and originally his wife was named Joan.

Watched By Samuel Pepys And George Washington

Mr. Punch as he was also known first appeared in England in 1662. Samuel Pepys, the English naval administrator and Member of Parliament who became known for his diary, wrote about the marionette show that had an early version of the Punch character that he saw in Covent Garden in London.

The marionette theatre starring Punch was at its height in the early 18th century. Punch was very well liked in Paris too, and by the end of the 18th century he was also performing in Britain’s American colonies where George Washington is said to have bought tickets for a show.

From Marionettes To Glove Puppets

During that time, marionette companies began to be replaced by glove-puppet shows.

This is when the punchman and his assistant bottler appeared on the scene. Mobile puppet booths at that time and into the early 19th century were covered in checked material or other inexpensive cloth.

By the 20th century, red-and-white-striped puppet booths became iconic sights on English beaches, seasides, and summer resorts.

Marionettes In India

Learning about the history of Punch and Judy and their beginnings as marionettes reminds me of these marionettes that David and I chanced upon them when we traveled in northern India in 2010.

They are iconic in the gloriously colored Indian city of Udaipur that lies in the magnificent region of Rajasthan (and by the way, I was so taken with the puppets that I bought several of them home with us):

Puppets From Udaipur - A Quillcards Ecard

Spotting An Iconic Red Telephone Box

Back from Udaipur to London: Seeing that almost everyone including myself is usually reliant on a mobile/cell phone these days, it was a treat for us to spot this working iconic red phone box when we were walking about the city streets of inner London.

Red Telephone Box

So what does this phone box, the Liverpool Cathedral, and the Battersea Power Station all have in common?

Each was designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott who lived from 1880 to 1960. Born into a family of architects, Sir Gilbert Scott was noted for his style that blended Gothic tradition with modernism.

He built a number of churches, and during WWI when he was a major in the Royal Marines, he was put in charge of building sea defenses on the English Channel coast.

Going ‘Steeple-Chasing’ For Inspiration

Scott’s early life was not a bed of roses: When he was three, his father was declared mentally unstable and he only saw his father twice in his life after that.

He grew up instead just with his mother. One of the type of outings that affected him was when they went ‘steeple-chasing’ together during his school holidays – in other words, they would bicycle around Sussex near the farm where they lived hoping to find interesting church architecture.

The Telephone Box With A Top Like A Mausoleum Dome

Beyond building churches during his career, Scott was one of three architects invited by the Royal Fine Arts Commission to present designs for new telephone boxes.

Scott got this invitation at the same time that he was made a trustee of Sir John Soane’s Museum (now known as the Soane Museum). Surely this influenced him to top his design that was in a classical style with a dome that is similar to Soane’s self-designed mausoleums in St Pancras’ Old Churchyard and Dulwich Picture Gallery in London.

The Post Office Steps In

Scott suggested that his telephone box be made of steel and be painted silver with a greeny-blue interior.

The Post Office, however, decided to make Scott’s winning design in cast iron and to paint it red so it would be very visible to all.

K6 for King George V’s Jubilee

Different reincarnations of the telephone boxes were numbered. And speaking of Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee this week, it was in 1935 that K6 (box number 6) was designed to commemorate her father King George V’s silver jubilee.

The K6 was the public telephone box that has been used the most in the UK.

Queen Elizabeth Brings In The ‘St. Edward’s Crown’

When Queen Elizabeth came to the throne in 1952 sixty years ago, she wanted to change from the practice of using the purely symbolic ‘Tudor Crown’ as a symbol of her government.

Instead she decided to use a representation of the St. Edward’s Crown, which is the actual crown generally used for British coronations.

The Scottish Variation

Living in lovely Edinburgh as we are, I want to note that the post office in Scotland at this time decided to use a representation of the actual ‘Crown of Scotland’, the crown used at the coronation of the Scottish monarchs.

Union Jacks At The Ready

As you will note, there are Union Jacks flying at the ready in the background of our photo of the iconic red telephone box – yielding two iconic images for the price of one, as it were…

At that time when the Diamond Jubilee was almost upon us, such flags were popping up all over London just like the rows of them on high in the rafters of this building at Covent Garden:

Union Jacks strung up in Covent Garden, London for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee

‘Tammy’ For Bunting

At the turn of the 17th century, a certain type of lightweight worsted wool fabric more commonly known as ‘tammy’ was used for making ribbons, flags, and signal flags for the Royal Navy.

Through a process known as hot pressing, the fabric acquired its high glaze. This and its other properties made it particularly suitable for creating such objects.

Fabric, Plastic, Paper, Or Even Cardboard

In modern times, the term “bunting” is used for any festive decorations made of fabric, plastic, paper or even cardboard in imitation of fabric.

Typical forms of bunting are strings of triangular flags in vibrant colors, or long pieces of fabric in the colors that make up a national flag gathered and draped into various shapes.

Bunting is also used to talk about a collection of flags on a ship. The officer who raises such signals using flags is known as ‘bunts’, which is why the term is still used for a ship’s communications officer.

Certain flags like Union Jacks pinned up for decoration as they have been for this jubilee period as also referred to collectively as bunting.

A ‘Bundle’ Of Decorations?

Interestingly, the word ‘bunting’ comes from ‘bunt’ which is the bellying part of a square sail, as the language site Edenics explains. However, the word ‘bunt’ in Middle Dutch means ‘a binding bundle’.

The pivotal function of ‘bunting’, it goes on to clarify, may be observed in the ‘buntline’, which is a rope to prevent a sail from bellying.

Well, that’s a bit of a stretch to all the bunting splashing so much vibrant color on jubilee decorations and street part tables, but I find it fun to discover where everyday items get their historical roots.

Queen Elizabeth Right There At The Pub’s Entrance

Speaking of decorations, we might not have been in London for the Diamond Jubilee – but at least we still got to say hello to the Queen.

As you can see here, she was standing outside the pub called the Woodins Shades on Liverpool Street when we walked by:

Woodin's Shades Public House at Bishopsgate

Actually, we thought it was quite nice for her to make such an effort – particularly with her jubilee coming up within days, the planning of which had been several years in the making!

Nikon D5100 And Nikon D7000 Compared

I had the opportunity to shoot with a Nikon D5100 recently and to take it on a trip to the United States.

I have been shooting with a higher-end camera – the Nikon D7000 – for a while now. It is a lovely camera, but it weighs 220g (almost half a pound) more than the D5100.

And because I prefer to carry as little weight as possible when I am traveling, I grabbed the chance to take the lighter camera and just one lens – the Nikon 35mm f1.8 AF-S – to the USA.

I have used the D60 and before that the D40, and both of them are very good cameras. So I had some expectation of what the more modern D5100 would be able to deliver.

The D5100 – D7000 Comparison

The D5100 and the D7000 use the same sensor, but the image-processing engine within the two cameras is different.

There is no doubt that the D5100 can produce high image quality – as witness this shot and the crop from it:

So this comparison is not about the image quality, but about the handling.

The D5100 In Use

The D5100 is a pleasure to shoot in all but one respect. That one respect is the essential one of being able to see whether the camera has focused on the subject.

I already knew from the D40 and the D60 that there is no lock button for the focus point. So if one catches the rear four-way controller, the focus point will be moved – to the side or up or down, depending on which part of the controller one catches inadvertently.

The standard way to deal with this is to get into the habit of hitting the OK button in the center of the four-way controller when one raises the camera to shoot. That centers the focus point.

So, picture the scene: the camera goes to my eye and I look through the viewfinder. Except that in California, the light is bright and contrasty, rather than overcast and cloudy as it had been in Edinburgh.

I have hit the OK button – so I know the focus point is in the center of the frame as I look through the viewfinder.

But exactly where is the center of the frame?

You might think that is easy to answer, but with your eye jammed up against the viewfinder, it is not so straightforward to see.

Now on the D7000, the active focus points are big and bright: When the red light on the active focus point lights up, you can see it.

Not so on the D5100. The focus points are tiny and in bright sunlight against a busy scene, it is very difficult to see the little red light that lights up on the active focus point when the camera achieves focus.

Remember that you would not looking at a blank white background like that shown in these illustrations. You would be looking at a busy and perhaps colourful scene where you have to pick the red focus light out of a confusion of shapes and colours.

Sure, after a second or two of hunting for the illumination of the active focus point and repeatedly half-pressing the shutter, you will see it.

But those are precious seconds when you want to be focusing and shooting. And the feeling of uncertainty that it causes is not conducive to keeping a steady hand and a clear mind while shooting.

Conclusion

This is a step backward for Nikon compared to the focus points on the D40 and the D60.

And that is as much as I want to say about the D5100 in the real world: Great camera – pity about the poor illumination of the active focus point.

Good Golly Miss Molly, It’s Sunny Here In Edinburgh!

Kids ‘N Blankets

Okay, so I am busy chopping up vegetables for my salad just now when I look outside my window here in Edinburgh at the communal space outside this block of Victorian flats – and what do I see?

Four kids who look to be about aged seven through eleven paired off (girl boy girl boy, that is) playing outside and having plain, old-fashioned fun.

They are sitting on some sort of blanket. All they have is a deck of cards between them all.

There’s no TV, no computer, no smartphone in sight.

Nothing except the outside is within reach.

Wheelies And Wet Clothing

A bright-red plastic wheelie thing is sitting in the stubbly green grass some feet away from them.

And because it’s one of those rare days in Edinburgh when the sun is actually warm enough to dry clothing, someone has taken advantage of that fact so bits of clothing, bath towels and socks are gently swinging back and forth drying on bright red and blue clothespins.

Dangling from a long rope hoisted up on a bit of land, they are not far from where the children are clustered.

The kids’ faces are first buried in their cards and then checking out their friends, as a steady stream of smiles appear on their intent faces.

A Temporary Blemish On The Scene Of Serenity

The scene is marred for me a bit as another boy who looks like he’s about twelve or so is standing in another part of the garden, pointing his play gun at the world.

Happily from my point of view, the kids are paying him no mind. They are laughing and talking, and I see them concentrating as they take turns with their card game.

Lawn Chairs Amidst The Cobblestone

I walk to the front of our flat and I look outside: As if to equalize the children in the backyard, a middle-aged couple has plunked down some lawn chairs right outside on the entrance to their building across the cobbled street.

The man’s white hair is glistening in the sun. The woman seated next to him has a big, droopy straw hat protecting her hair. They are both lolling about, crossing their legs casually as they mark their territory.

It’s going on five, but daylight lasts long into the evening here now because we are so far north.

Lazing In A Bathing Suit On A Sofa

I’m reminded of the couple in their thirties whom I saw yesterday. I’ve seen them before, smack there in their front yard as I go past them en route to walking through the meadows to get into town.

Believe it or not, they have planted a beaten-up sofa in the front and it becomes their official sun deck whenever a hint of rays comes out. Yesterday when it was gorgeous too they were smiling out there on the sofa – the woman in her bathing suit, the man in his shorts, both clutching tall drinks.

Honeysuckle In Edinburgh
Honeysuckle In Edinburgh

Floral Beauties And Bounding Dogs

The soft white honeysuckle clusters, the fuschia-colored rhododendrons, the bowers of bright yellow oh-what’s-the-name-of-those-flowers bunches that flash gaily in the sun…

The rhapsodising, rippling birds whose songs seems to cascade with unusual clarity through the refreshing skies…

The students gathered at The Meadows, waiting at smoking barbecues or leaping at flying balls or talking in high spirits with their friends in the heat of the sun…

The wonderful dogs of every description who look like they are in doggie heaven as they cleave the warmth to their bouncy bodies, bounding right and left and every which way, their tails wagging madly trying to keep up with their bubbling enthusiasm about being in the midst of all of this with their owners on such a glorious day…

“It’s summer, summer, SUMMER!” everyone and everything seems to be chanting.

Aye, lads and lassies, ’tis true — right here in Edinburgh, summer has finally arrived!