The Frumplingtons

As part of our campaign to revive some of Britain’s long-forgotten cottage industries, we recently gathered together all our macramé books and got busy with a bit of knotting. Joan Fisher’s ‘The art of macramé’ (Hamlyn, 1972) could be considered to be the bible of macramé. The instructions and diagrams are all well drawn and easy to understand.

The rest of the world, however, has moved on a bit since 1972, and some of the fashions might now be described as either quaint or ridiculous, depending on whether or not you’re being charitable toward the author. Pictured below is one of the outfits that is most definitely not quaint. Even the caption describes this veil as an ‘unusual’ use of macramé — well that’s a euphemism if ever I’ve heard one! It could still work today though. All you have to do is shorten those threads a bit, put corks on the ends and stick a cowboy hat on top and you’ve got the national costume of Australia. We have a big ball of string standing by and are taking orders now. Alternatively, if you’re really intent on looking like a wally, just buy yourself a pair of flares and grow some Mungo Jerry-style sideburns.

And that goes for any men reading this, too!

Russell Ash is our new favourite author. His book, ‘Potty Fartwell & Knob‘ has hundreds of characters and virtually no plot — just the kind of book we like! And if you’re the sort of person who enjoys trawling through the dictionary looking for the smutty entries (you are, aren’t you?), I think you’ll like this book too. Russell Ash waded through tons of old census records, but he wasn’t looking for deep ‘n’ meaningful insights into British social history; he was looking for silly names. Here are some examples:

• Edmond Sufferer De Mullett,
• Magic Muxworthy,
• Boadicea Belch,
• Gasoline McKenzie Yeats,
• Temperantia Google, and,
• Joseph Faggott Tempest.

If you’re keen on…er…literature (!), ‘Potty Fartwell & Knob’ would be an excellent companion volume to Far From Dull, by Dominic Greyer, which is a collection of photos of strange British place names (e.g., Ventongimps, Cow Roast and Sexhow).

Both of the above books are now part of our very own Library of Knowledge. Did I ever mention we’re a pair of intellectuals?

I was just about to return a book to our shelves when I realized how ambiguous its title was. It was The Penguin Pocket English Thesaurus. You can probably guess what’s coming next, but here goes anyway:

I didn’t think penguins had pockets!

Last book I read: Abarat, by Clive Barker.

Book I’m reading now: both the Winnie-the-Pooh books (”Winnie-the-Pooh” and “The House at Pooh Corner”) combined in one volume. This could be part of an ongoing trend: I also read Benjamin Hoff’s “The Tao of Pooh” earlier this year.

Anyhow, I merely supply the information; you can draw your own conclusions. That Eeyore does have some excellent dialogue though. I was a latecomer to the joys of the Pooh books and had forgotten how sarcastic Eeyore was.

Oh yeah, Abarat wasn’t bad either.

It’s still chaos at Frumplington Central as we continue slowly getting our new home redecorated. Meanwhile, we thought it best to remove our books from the living room, where they would be likely to get covered in dust, bits of old wallpaper and assorted other debris. The safest place, we decided, would be on the stairs. I guess, if you’re a bibliophile, like us, then this must be the stairway to heaven:

Trouble is, it takes us ages coming down to breakfast in the morning. There is an almost irresistible temptation to browse en route. Look at this lot though: that yucky peach paper has really got to go, hasn’t it? Wouldn’t have been our choice, that’s for sure. The sun, though, is ours, rescued from a life of obscurity in the depths of a Lincoln bric-a-brac shop a couple of years ago.

Due to a few recent upheavals and alterations to our usually steady routine, we have recently had to reshelve all our books. They will be arranged in a more orderly fashion at some later date. But as of now there are some interesting, not to say startling, juxtapositions. One of which, as far as I recall, is Roget’s Thesaurus being next to The Little Book of Farting.

Or, as it’s next to Roget, maybe it should be renamed The Little Book of Farting, Crepitation and Breaking Wind.

Whatever happens, next time I go to find something to read I’m going to be a bit more careful than usual. Don’t want to get trapped behind the bookcase, do I? Best perhaps to let someone (ie, Shana) know where I’m going, just in case she has to send for the avid reader’s version of a search party.

Chris

We recently inherited a box full of old books after Shana’s mother retired to a new life on the Costa Packet in Spain. Although we probably won’t read many (or any) of them — they’re mostly children’s books from the 1950s — they don’t take up much room, so we shall most likely keep them. And some of the cover illustrations are interesting, similar to comic-book graphics in style, with fresh colours and clean lines… READ MORE >>

Author Bill Bryson has been made an honorary OBE for his contribution to literature. We think this shows excellent judgement on the part of those who hand out these honours. We can’t think of anyone who deserves an OBE more.

I myself have read almost everything the great Bill Bryson has ever written, with the notable exception of his latest opus The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. However, a glance at the calendar reveals that it is almost that time in the Judaeo-Christian calendar known in the vernacular as ‘Chrimbo’. And there just happens to be a book-sized space available in my rather generously proportioned Christmas stocking. (In fact, as my Christmas stocking is in fact one half of a pair of fishnet long-johns, there might be room for a Blue Peter annual in there as well.)

Keen Frumplingtons fans who would like to donate either of these books to us had better get their purchases sorted out soon. We will stand under the clock at Lincoln railway station at midnight on Christmas Eve; a suitably anonymous time and place for the covert handover of said books. (Donors to provide own appropriately festive wrapping paper, bows, gift tags etc. Please carry also a copy of that day’s Times newspaper as indication that you are a bona fide Frumplingtons reader.)

Oh, hang on though: midnight’s far too late. We’ll be tucked up in bed with a pint of cocoa by eleven. Looks like you’re off the hook then.

Chris

I’d write more blog posts but, as you can see, I spend most of the time with my nose in a book. (Anything to avoid spending money on a bookmark, that’s me.) Here’s a few I’ve read recently.

Chris