My dad built a seat to go over the hand brake in the triumph herald - between the two front seats, for me. The tent in the back, we toured 'Europe' in 1964 and when things were rocky and only then, my mum and I were allowed a powdery sugared hard sweet from the special tin. If you struck gold, you'd get pineapple.
I love these gentle miniatures, and love how you said Lancôme Trophée reminded you of the English Pastoral genre when I brought you it to try.
I also enjoy how you reach into the musical space for analogies like an LLM, plucking wonderful-sounding things out with writerly eagerness. But C⁶sus⁴ is not really a thing. (If it existed, it'd be Fadd2/C.) For me, the humble lime's zesty yet dissonant and vaguely World South connotations map, simply, to the dominant seventh (C7).
I was raised on another brand, presented in much the same manner, down to the coating of confectioner's sugar: Cavendish & Harvey. They are still produced today. I am partial to the sour cherry and mixed citrus flavors.
Started by Albert Leslie Simpkin in 1921, he was then joined by his sons Neville, Brian and John. In 2002 John took complete control of A.L.Simpkin & Co. Ltd.
Today, the company is controlled by John’s children, Adrian and Karen Simpkin, who are joint Managing Directors.
AL Simpkin supplied glucose drops to the RAF for high altitude flying sorties during WW11
Nice piece. I feel the same way about some hard candy sourballs that have gone away but whose memory evokes in me a certain kind of summer day with nothing to do while listening to WQXR on the radio in New York, reading books, and sneaking my mother’s sourballs and pastilles. I was maybe 10? It was maybe 1966 or 1967? Not madeleines, but you work with what you’ve got.
Poignant passion of a private kind...I always find the Lark Ascending poignant, and it seems to echo in this music.
My father and uncle were on a ski trip once, on skins, high in the Swiss Alps, a long time ago. The weather suddenly changed, and the tourguide for some reason totally lost his sense of space. They were lost, it was very cold and snowing, and the guide was in shock, and night was falling. My father suggested to build a kind of iglo, cutting out the 'bricks' with their skis. Once they were in the iglo, the guide still too shaken to speak, my father asked what he had in his rucksack. Rescue blankets came out. My father had a travel tin of mixed fruit sweets, the ones in fine sugar like the Smith Kendon's. Wrapped in aluminium blankets, they kept awake by recounting movies, while savouring a sweet at the time. Once early morning broke, the guide knew exactly where they were, and they skied back to the village. This was long before mobile phones ofcourse, so we were at home blissfully ignorant of the fact that they were reported lost...
Yes, and it ended with them skiing in the still sleeping village, and suddenly one of the wooden shutters opened and a woman looked out and cried: Peterli! I suppose she was the guide's mother or wife who thought they had died in the mountains.Then after a big breakfast they were collected by the village brass band and walked to the townhall to be received by the mayor!
Lettering is fully digitised now, but back in the day the quality needed to see an actual signwriter do the tiny writing on their office door or golf club roll of honour by hand, and my father duly showed up and did it. Until the 80s larger jobs were also done by hand - I’ve a photo of him outlining the lettering on some car lot sign or other in an ABSOLUTE state of familiar task performed with rebellious impatience, whilst my sibling and I do the filling in with what can only be described as nebulous actual children paint obscurely energy. As a six year old, I was glad when things went electric
Cinnamon balls. Big black globes, one of which could last you a whole movie, and filled your nose with vibrations. Liquid bagpipe, and only made in Scotland.
we had a plastic 'tin' here, with two holes on the side of the outer and inner lids that you had to align to get the candy. Still think it's a very smart solution :-)
It is many years since I recalled the tins of tobacco with the white paper ruffs my Father bought. The image floated off the page and brought other fond ones to mind. Thank you.
My dad built a seat to go over the hand brake in the triumph herald - between the two front seats, for me. The tent in the back, we toured 'Europe' in 1964 and when things were rocky and only then, my mum and I were allowed a powdery sugared hard sweet from the special tin. If you struck gold, you'd get pineapple.
I love these gentle miniatures, and love how you said Lancôme Trophée reminded you of the English Pastoral genre when I brought you it to try.
I also enjoy how you reach into the musical space for analogies like an LLM, plucking wonderful-sounding things out with writerly eagerness. But C⁶sus⁴ is not really a thing. (If it existed, it'd be Fadd2/C.) For me, the humble lime's zesty yet dissonant and vaguely World South connotations map, simply, to the dominant seventh (C7).
I was raised on another brand, presented in much the same manner, down to the coating of confectioner's sugar: Cavendish & Harvey. They are still produced today. I am partial to the sour cherry and mixed citrus flavors.
Started by Albert Leslie Simpkin in 1921, he was then joined by his sons Neville, Brian and John. In 2002 John took complete control of A.L.Simpkin & Co. Ltd.
Today, the company is controlled by John’s children, Adrian and Karen Simpkin, who are joint Managing Directors.
AL Simpkin supplied glucose drops to the RAF for high altitude flying sorties during WW11
Travel sweets in tins still exist, and properly traditional. See here https://alsimpkin.com/products/
Nice piece. I feel the same way about some hard candy sourballs that have gone away but whose memory evokes in me a certain kind of summer day with nothing to do while listening to WQXR on the radio in New York, reading books, and sneaking my mother’s sourballs and pastilles. I was maybe 10? It was maybe 1966 or 1967? Not madeleines, but you work with what you’ve got.
Poignant passion of a private kind...I always find the Lark Ascending poignant, and it seems to echo in this music.
My father and uncle were on a ski trip once, on skins, high in the Swiss Alps, a long time ago. The weather suddenly changed, and the tourguide for some reason totally lost his sense of space. They were lost, it was very cold and snowing, and the guide was in shock, and night was falling. My father suggested to build a kind of iglo, cutting out the 'bricks' with their skis. Once they were in the iglo, the guide still too shaken to speak, my father asked what he had in his rucksack. Rescue blankets came out. My father had a travel tin of mixed fruit sweets, the ones in fine sugar like the Smith Kendon's. Wrapped in aluminium blankets, they kept awake by recounting movies, while savouring a sweet at the time. Once early morning broke, the guide knew exactly where they were, and they skied back to the village. This was long before mobile phones ofcourse, so we were at home blissfully ignorant of the fact that they were reported lost...
What an extraordinary story!
Yes, and it ended with them skiing in the still sleeping village, and suddenly one of the wooden shutters opened and a woman looked out and cried: Peterli! I suppose she was the guide's mother or wife who thought they had died in the mountains.Then after a big breakfast they were collected by the village brass band and walked to the townhall to be received by the mayor!
Lettering is fully digitised now, but back in the day the quality needed to see an actual signwriter do the tiny writing on their office door or golf club roll of honour by hand, and my father duly showed up and did it. Until the 80s larger jobs were also done by hand - I’ve a photo of him outlining the lettering on some car lot sign or other in an ABSOLUTE state of familiar task performed with rebellious impatience, whilst my sibling and I do the filling in with what can only be described as nebulous actual children paint obscurely energy. As a six year old, I was glad when things went electric
Cinnamon balls. Big black globes, one of which could last you a whole movie, and filled your nose with vibrations. Liquid bagpipe, and only made in Scotland.
we had a plastic 'tin' here, with two holes on the side of the outer and inner lids that you had to align to get the candy. Still think it's a very smart solution :-)
It is many years since I recalled the tins of tobacco with the white paper ruffs my Father bought. The image floated off the page and brought other fond ones to mind. Thank you.