… Scorednineteen on theTilley Girls…yourgeneralknowledgequestionsarestartingnow…youpassedonthree…aroundofmixed fortunes … with the fewer or fewest passes … your name please … the vampire in British fiction …it onlyremains to thank themayor … pass … a study ofoldfossils…yourtargettobeatisthirty…we'rebackattheUniversity… pass … what is your specialist subject … which 100-handed giant … at the halfway stage …thecapitalofNebraska…pass…mayIhavethefirstcontenderplease…thenovelsof…andyoumayanswer…stopthewatch… Myrtenkränze Waltz … your score has gone up to … did Gloping install in his house … pass …the Black Chair … in the ascending order of their scores … Caithness Glass trophy … you have two minutes on the Ottoman

Empireto1700…correct…byroadfromLetchworth…pass…thechangeinwave-lengthofthewavefunction…I'msorry Ithought you saidthe seat … thelife and work of … pass … name the artistwhowasresponsible for … Sabine Baring-Gould…I'vestartedsoI'llfinish…pass…letustakealookatthescores…scorednineteenontheTilleyGirls…yourgeneralknowledge

The Quarterly Magazine of the Mastermind ClubSpring 1998

PASS Notes 1Club Shopping 1News And Views 2Message From Japan 3And When Did You Last See Yourself? 4Encountering Yeames 5Competing With Jane 11A Hawk In The Drawing Room 12What’s The Point? 13Poems 13This Way To The Henge… 14Pass-ing The Finish Line 15Mugnum Quiz 1998 16Annual General Meeting 17Masterquiz 1998 Answers: I 18Masterquiz 1998 Answers: II 20The Diary Of Jack Clark Back cover

PASS Spring 1998

All contents © by the Mastermind Club except where noted. Contributions are welcome but may be edited or held over owing to space limitations. Copy deadline first of January (Winter), April (Spring), July (Summer), and October (Autumn), or

by arrangement.

OFFICERS AND COMMITTEE PRESIDENT Tony Dart

HON. VICE-PRESIDENT Dr. K. Gerald Powell-MacKenzie,

SECRETARY Phillida Grantham

TREASURER Paul F. Henderson

MEMBERSHIP SECRETARY Peter W. J. Chitty

EDITOR OF PASS Craig E. Scott

COMMITTEE MEMBERS

Patricia Owen,

Christine Moorcroft,

Gavin Fuller

Alan D. Blackburn,

MEMBERSHIP MATTERS Peter Chitty

here are no new members to welcome at this time, but there have been some changes since the new list was sent to you. You should receive your membership cards with this edition — just transfer the details from your old one. If you do not receive one please let me know. Also please inform me if you would like to make your email address available to members. I enjoyed myself in Dublin; it was nice to meet you all again, and many thanks for giving me the chance of a

further two years of service to the Club membership.

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PASS NOTES Craig Scott, Editor

am pleased to say that we have a bumper issue for you this time. To those of you who have been waiting to see your words in print, look within; I’ve tried to use up most of the unused material I inherited from Christine.

This means, of course, that I shall need more from you if I am to fill the next issue. This doesn’t apply to Lance Haward, who has contributed enough material to last us two or three years — a shining example to you all!

You will notice that we have reverted to a black-and-white cover. The Committee decided that continuing with a colour cover would be so expensive as to necessitate a rise in the annual subscription, unchanged this past fifteen years or so. And we don’t want that, now, do we?

I should say that I have no particular attachment to this month’s cover design — apart from the hours of struggle on the computer which it entailed. In fact, I would encourage any graphically inclined members to have a go at a permanent design. How about a new way of portraying the Black Chair?

or any Masterminders who didn’t go to Dublin, Pass! is the title of a painting by our own Leo Stevenson. It is based on Yeames’s famous painting And When Did

You Last See Your Father?, but with several changes; for example, the main inquisitor of the hapless boy is Magnus! Other guest appearances include Gerald MacKenzie, Christine Moorcroft, Dee Wallis, John Gilpin, David Mitchell, Peter Chitty, Ray Ward, and Chris Hughes. Ray tells what it’s like to wake up in a renowned painting, while Leo gives us a fascinating account of his encounter with Yeames.

Elsewhere in this issue, we have news from Japan, confessions of a film extra, romantic novelist, and marathon runner (no, not all the same person).

You’ll also find this year’s Mugnum questions, the answers to Master Quiz parts I and II, and the minutes of the AGM.

Those of you who have come to look forward to Jack Clark’s diary of the function will find it in pride of place on the back cover.

arah and I enjoyed our five days in Dublin masterminding, sightseeing, and archive-haunting. A particular treat was revisiting Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street, a Ulysses pub where I had my first pint of

Guinness thirty years ago and which hasn’t changed at all since.

We then set off about the Irish countryside for another five days, north to Sligo (Yeats country and an unexpected treat), west to Galway (home of Kenny’s, one of the great bookstores of the English-speaking world), and south to Wicklow (but not to Ballykissangel, a.k.a. Avoca). We didn’t find too many traces of my Irish great-great-great-grandparents, though we did find a possible ancestor who was a notoriously brutal Protestant landlord and is buried in the same church as Yeats.

e’ve been trying to fix the habit of tuning into radio Mastermind on Sundays or Mondays; Well done all of you who are taking part this year; I shall attempt to secure a complete list of

contestants and results for future publication — after all, this year at least it’s virtually our own house quiz.

On Today’s The Day, Lance and his partner are still on the leader board, while Ray Ward and Patricia Cowley won their heat. Tony Dart, Kevin Ashman, Trevor Montague, and Dee Wallis all appeared to the Spring Bank Holiday

Quiz Night on BBC2.

I hope you enjoy this issue.

CLUB SHOPPING The new T-shirts are going fast — only extra-large left. These have “I’ve started, so I’ll finish” on the front and “It’s only a bloody game” on the back and come in oatmeal (the colour, that is).

♦ Sweatshirts are printed with the club logo in black. New stock is priced at £15 and old stock at £12.

♦ Ties have a single embroidered logo.

♦ Jewellery is enamelled with the club logo in black.

♦ Pens are black with the club logo in gold.

All prices include postage and packing.

Send a cheque with your order, payable to the Mastermind Club, to Patricia

.

Ties £Silver-gray 6.00SweatshirtsBurgundy (L only) 15.00Oatmeal (M, L, XL) 15.00Red (M, L, XL) 15.00Navy (XL only) 12.00White (XL only) 12.00Catchphrase T-shirtsOatmeal (XL only) 9.00JewelleryKey rings 5.00Pendants 5.00Pens (one only) 2.50Pens (two or more) 2.00

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NEWS AND VIEWS Fheisty in Dublin As you may have heard, preparations for the Annual Function were enlivened by our being bumped out of the Royal Dublin Society at the last minute by the ard fheis called by Sinn Fein to consider the Good Friday Agreement. Sarah found this Jim Cogan cartoon in the Sunday Independent, which has graciously allowed us to reprint it here (with her amendments).

In a similar vein… Susan Leng sends this photo of herself with a noted Irish political figure. “He was taking a few minutes off, as the press and TV were pursuing him. We just talked for a few minutes — I didn’t mention him taking our venue for the Dinner though!”

I was amused to read that an ard fheis, these days a political rally and the like, apparently once meant meant quite

another kind of congress, the sort one might have with a prostitute.

And as for next year… Somewhat warily after the Dublin experience (see above), Phillida advises that she’s succeeded in booking next year’s function in Oxford for the weekend of 16-18 April 1999 — Mansfield College for accommodation and Trinity for the dinner. Those of you who associate modern Oxford more with screaming tyres than dreaming spires may be reassured to know that sufficient parking will be available.

So make a note in your diary. If you’d already pencilled in St. Hilda’s College the previous weekend, rub it out while you’re about it!

James Coates is remembered by Christine Moorcroft James Coates, from Minehead in Somerset, one of the earliest members (no. 88) of the Mastermind Club, has died. He was 71 years old, a retired bank official, when he took part in Heat 7 of the 1975 series in the Hall of the University of Bath, offering “The Second Empire” as his specialist subject.

The heat was won by the Reverend Canon Ivor Jeffery-Machin, who went on to the second semifinal. The other contenders were Francis Howes and Glyn Court. The champion that year was John Hart.

From Gordon Stuart It is surprising how far afield Mastermind is screened.

When I was not sure whether my family would be able to record my round in 1993, as I was away at the time of the broadcast, my friends in Slovenia offered to do so, as it was screened at the same time there

Even more surprising was the fact that at a recent translators’s conference, one of my colleagues informed me that she had seen me on television in Bangkok. I replied that this was impossible, as I had never been to Bangkok, to which she answered that it was Mastermind broadcast a year or two later, though I cannot imagine what interest Mastermind would have for most Thais.

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MESSAGE FROM JAPAN Doreen Simmons sends her 1998 news letter

reetings from Tokyo! I enjoyed a reunion after 43 years with Fr. Edmund Randall, who taught me Hebrew at Cambridge. He emigrated to Australia not long after (no connection, I hope), and is now

retired in Wangaratta, a small cathedral town midway between Melbourne and Canberra.

And what was I doing in Australia? Well, my trip was entirely private, but I made an excuse to accompany the sumo tour, which played to packed houses for two nights each in Melbourne and Sydney. It was also a very Japanese vacation: June 4th to 13th. I was bowled over by the size and sheer quality of the country, the good life (provided that you had a job), the excellent, though informal, service, and the ethnic mixture of people (and cuisines). It was good, for a time, to have fish that was grilled or sautéed instead of lying raw on cold rice balls. There is, however, high unemployment, a drug problem, and a disturbing amount of New Age pseudo-religion.

The strong yen made everything attractively cheap, and in addition to the wonderful food I bought computer-designed sweaters, aboriginal-art T-shirts, potpourri, opals, a toy kangaroo, a leather hat (without the crocodile teeth), three boomerangs and a didgeridoo. The last thing I bought before leaving Melbourne was a larger suitcase. For the small presents that everyone in the office has to have, I bought eight dozen tiny toy koalas. Six months later, all four of the offices where I work are still infested with the creatures, clinging to phone cables and desk calendars. By the way, I’ve worked out what makes koalas so super-cutesy: they sleep 22 hours a day clinging to branches, so they’re natural huggers, besides looking like baby teddy bears.

he beginning of the year was overshadowed by death at age 89 and a half of my old colleague, Ambassador Kakitsubo. At 26, a promising diplomat, he was sent to Cambridge in 1932, the

year that I was born. In the 1950s he was Japan’s Ambassador to the United Nations. He soldiered on to the end, his powerful body gradually losing strength but his mind as sharp as ever. He often dropped things like season tickets and spectacles on trains, because he would thrust them in the vague direction of a pocket and not notice they hadn’t gone in; but he was always able to ring up Lost Property and give a lucid account of where and how he had lost the item, and nearly always got it back. In recent years he has been sought out by journalists, historians and scholars for reminiscences of people he knew many years ago; for instance, he was the interpreter for Subhas Chandra Bose. He attended the year-end office parties, eating and drinking in moderation but with quiet enjoyment. On Friday January 3rd, he dropped dead. We held the wake on the Saturday, the funeral on Sunday afternoon — and started the working year on the Monday feeling rather forlorn. He and I shared an office for eighteen-and-a-half years with never a cross word. It was not the least of his achievements.

All my workplaces have gone online. I blessed my foresight in getting there on my own the year before. As for virtual reality and surfing the Web, I still prefer the reality outside my front door, and a lot of my work still gets done with a pencil and an eraser — even though the finished product is delivered to an editor by e-mail. E-mail, besides being quick, cheap and fast, has introduced me to some interesting people, including Japan specialists and sumo enthusiasts in Australia. One helped me find en suite accommodation in the heart of the oldest settlement in Australia — The Rocks; showed me round, and gathered a group of fellow-fans for a little dinner party.

t has been a year of removals, none of them very far. In October I moved the accumulation of 19 years down from the western half of the seventh floor into both flats on the sixth. [Please make a note of the changes in

address and phone number under Membership Matters above — Ed.] Having turned 65 and therefore officially ‘aged’, I decided to spend a bit of money on getting comfortable. Not only do I have twice the space, and in completely renovated apartments; for the first time in my life I can have hot or cold air at the push of a button.

A week after I completed my home removal from the seventh floor to the sixth, one of my offices moved from the fifthto the sixth, into a newly-built extension of the parliamentary annex; my desk is in front of a large window that looks straight across to the side of the Diet Building. The final move is due at the end of this year: my desk will travel a few feet to the right, to Ambassador Kakitsubo’s old place (which has remained vacant all year); another colleague going into semi-retirement will move into my spot. Here, too, I will have a pleasant view, looking down into the sunken plaza of the Hibiya City complex, where they are busy laying down the winter skating rink. If the present pace of work continues, however, I don’t think I’ll have much time to spend admiring the view.

The Embassy Singers sang a memorial service for the Princess of Wales, followed by the ethereally lovely Fauré Requiem. We were very fortunate in being augmented by the visiting choral scholars of St. John’s College, Cambridge. Our alto line is rather a weak point, and having three counter-tenors behind us was mind-blowing. I continue playing bodhran (drum) with the Irish band, now including music for dancing. I now own three bodhrans and an African talking drum. In the spring I also attended some classes on the djembe — the big hourglass-shaped African drum. Our teacher was a Senegalese with dreadlocks.

1998 is the Year of the Tiger, burning bright: Leo Tigris, the largest of the Felidae, now in danger of extinction. Don’t catch it by the tail, but rather put it in your tank (remember the old ad?) Sometimes I feel as if I’m riding on one — that’s the nature of the beast.

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AND WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOURSELF? Ray Ward finds himself in a famous painting

f the whirligig of time brings in his revenges, he also brings in some remarkable coincidences. (Don’t bother checking that quotation, I have already done so. I will, however, save you the trouble of looking it up by

telling you it’s from Twelfth Night.)

In one of my two Mastermind auditions — I can’t remember which — I was asked who painted And When Did You Last See Your Father?, the famous picture of a little Royalist boy questioned by Roundheads. I didn’t know, and Bill Wright said many more people know the painting than the artist, William Frederick Yeames. For myself I’m by no means certain I’d even heard of it up to then. Although it is in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, where I spent a total of over a year at college, I have no recollection of being aware of it, though I visited the Walker frequently — to eat! The restaurant served quite substantial hot snacks -poached eggs on toast and similar — and was much favoured by people using the library nearby. They had a framed cartoon on the counter showing two female students approaching an art gallery with one asking if it was really true that they let you use the restaurant without looking at any paintings!

Later I learned more about the painting, went to see the original on a return visit to Liverpool, and found it was for many years recreated as a life-size tableau at Madame Tussaud’s. I also wrote a quiz in which I asked who painted it, though I can’t remember how many, if any, of the entrants got it right.

Time whirligigs round to 1996, when I went to Cambridge for the first recording session of the 1997 series of Mastermind and met one of the contenders, the artist Leo Stevenson, who became a Grape Street Regular. Leo specialises in paintings using the methods and materials of the old masters and can paint in many styles, it sez ’ere. (I take this from a postcard reproduction he gave me of one of his works — at first glance it looks like Rembrandt’s picture of a woman raising her skirts as she walks through water, until you notice she carries a spanner and a plunger. It’s called You Can Never Find a Plumber When You Need One.)

ne day Leo rang me with a mysterious request. I often have a camera with me at Club events and am seen shamelessly flashing away. Did I have any photos of various members? — but he couldn’t tell

me why he wanted them. So I ransacked my (chaotic) archives and gave him all the possibles. (Well, it made me sort out all my Mastermind-related photographs from the rest. I’ve even bought an album for them. Now all I have to do is put them in it — they’re a heap on the floor at the moment.) Then, at the wine bar, Leo hauled out his camera and photographed me and others. Mysteriouser and mysteriouser ....

At last all was revealed. Leo had painted a pastiche of And When Did You Last See Your Father? entitled Pass!, with people associated with Mastermind and the Club playing the roles of those in the original. In the shadows at far left, where the original shows soldiers, is one soldier — Leo himself. The girl at left is Christine Moorcroft, while the woman in the black dress is Dee Wallis — holding a copy of Chambers Biographical Dictionary to symbolise her role as the programme’s chief researcher for many years. The soldier with the ludicrously huge halberd is John Gilpin, the man slumped in a chair is David Mitchell, the man writing is Peter Chitty, the standing man with the treasure chest is Chris Hughes, the interrogator is, of course, Magnus, the man on his right is Gerald MacKenzie, and the one at far right is — ahem! — me. (The children — the boy, and the girl with the halberded soldier’s arm on her shoulder, are as in the original — except that the boy’s fingers are crossed!)

agnus has the original and Leo has had greetings cards and prints made. The resemblance to the original original is remarkable: when people see one of the cards they always take it for And When

Did You Last See Your Father?, whereupon I tell them to look more closely — particularly at the interrogator and the chap at far right — and refer them to the explanation on the back.

Leo has written some excellent notes on the original and on his version [facing page — Ed.]. Of me he says: “Ray Ward, a polymath affectionately known for his ‘nit-picking’, appears ... because his personality and face merited inclusion from an artistic point of view. [Coo!] Though his glasses and dark hair [I’ve now found the first streak of grey at the front — just caught me in time!] make him very different from the man in his position in the original painting, I wanted him for his face, or rather a particular expression on it. Nothing escapes Ray’s attention; it was his look of wary concentration that I was after. When I photographed him I luckily managed to capture this expression, but it reminded me of Les Dawson’s description of ‘a face like a bulldog chewing a lemon’. His presence in the painting, for those who know him, adds a certain piquancy to the proceedings.” Thanks, Leo!

On a recent trip to Liverpool I bought a print of And When Did You Last See Your Father? (the original wasn’t there, but in London for the Royal Academy’s Art Treasures of England exhibition, where I saw it recently — Leo thinks it was hung too high) which I intend to have framed and hang alongside a print of Leo’s version. Since all the others are Committee members, former members of the production team, the Interrogator and a Champion, I’m the only common-or-garden, bog-standard Club member depicted — apart from the artist himself — and I am duly honoured!

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES A personal reflection by Leo Stevenson

he scene is a wealthy Royalist home during the English civil war. The crowded room is bathed in a diffused gloomy light; the light is clearly daylight, but filtered and subdued through partly shuttered

windows behind and to the left of the viewer. Perhaps only an hour before the present scene, the Cavalier family were going about their house unperturbed. Then, the clatter of horses’ hooves drew their anxious faces to the same unseen windows that now illuminate the scene before us.

The boy has just been ushered in. After a few innocuous questions, the infamous question has just been asked. Everything hinges on his answer…

The painting implies what came before and after the moment that has been depicted. We are swept up in the implied narrative. Like a photograph of a scene from a play, the characters are caught at a crucial point in the action. However, this is more than just an illustrated melodrama. Layers of meaning behind this picture are intimately bound up with the story it tells us.

This painting does not purport to show any real specific event. It comes straight from the artist’s imagination, although it is certain that many such confrontations did occur during the English civil war. It is factually truthful only in a general sense. The painting is an archetypal product of the Victorian age. Paintings of historical events, whether real or imagined, held a special place in the Victorian psyche. Victorian culture drew much of its energy from a romanticised view of history. Realistic paintings of history fulfilled the same role in their society that films and ‘virtual reality’ technology play in ours: they entertained, informed and amazed. The power to do this came from a strong narrative element. The story commanded attention; it blurred the distinction between fact and fantasy by inviting the viewer to complete the story. The painter told part of the story, the viewer filled in the gaps. And When Did You Last See Your Father? was painted in an age when almost every picture ‘told a story’.

The strength of the narrative element in Victorian history painting should not be underestimated; it is comparable to medieval stained glass and comic books. Even today, the painting can still conjure up feelings of discomfort or dread. The frisson this gives can be like watching a moment of suspense in a Hitchcock film. Though it was once a common element in art, the ability of artists to spark off our imagination in this way is now extremely rare. This is a great shame.

And When Did You Last See Your Father? was once acclaimed as a masterpiece, but it is now largely ignored. Critics have dismissed it as Victorian kitsch, but they usually miss the underlying message that such paintings carried: a message that was easier to read in the society that originally made them. More than just entertainment, they were also made to reinforce the nation’s belief in itself and in the validity of its culture. At the time, history and culture were synonymous. Such a grand concept in a work of art

wouldn’t be possible today. As a nation, we are no longer defined by our past; on the contrary, we are often encouraged to feel embarrassed by it. To look backwards is negative, but to look forwards is positive. Today, a nation’s identity is formed by its future aspirations and not by its past achievements. This is convenient, because the past can be open to dangerously wide interpretations, whereas the future is the upbeat domain of hope and imagination; and everyone is right until proven wrong.

orks of art are also open to as much interpretation as history. As each age passes the real value or importance of anything can change with the unfolding of subsequent events. In Yeames’s

painting history became art, but this particular work of art was itself destined to become a part of history, if only because of its survival beyond the age in which it was created. As a physical object, the painting is an artefact. As an image, it survives as a record of imagination rather than documentation. Both these facts affect the way that we see it today.

Both the civil war and the Victorian era in which it was painted can only be perceived through the ever-diminishing view given to us by history. The perception of any painting changes with time, however some paintings, like this one, seem to be trapped in a bubble of time, floating outside the main canon of western art. Once renowned, it is now treated as a footnote in British cultural history. Fame is a fickle entity.

What drove Yeames to paint this picture? One reason is that he seems to have been obsessed with the seventeenth century. There are even photographs showing him and his friends in historical costume, ostensibly to act as models for various historical paintings or as subjects for a slightly bizarre form of ‘art photography’. Perhaps this play-acting was also a way of making the past more tangible. This reasoning is surely behind many of the activities of modern historical societies like the Sealed Knot or the King’s Army. Far from being mere escapism, it is clear that Yeames’s interest in trying to re-create the past was also an attempt at forming a clearer identity as an artist, and as a naturalised Englishman (he was actually born in Russia). This painting was an attempt to crystallise these aims; the mark of its success, indeed of the success of any good work of art, is that it embodies themes and issues that are personal to the artist in terms which can be understood by many. But times change.

The fact that this painting is not discussed in the same way as other paintings deemed to be ‘timeless masterpieces’ might be because we no longer recognise the value of the tradition in which it was made. Traditional subjects for paintings used to be divided into a kind of hierarchy, according to status. Between the baroque era and the Edwardian age, history painting was seen as the most >>

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES (cont.)

prestigious form of high art. This status came partly from the importance of the events depicted, but it also came from the symbolic value that these paintings had for the society In which they were created. To the viewer of 1878, the year it was painted, this painting, this kind of painting, was as much an emblem as a literal depiction of real or imagined events. Because Victorian Britain defined itself through its past, this painting connected directly with a common concept of national identity.

What kind of story was Yeames trying to tell us in this painting? The scene shown has had many interpretations, some of them quite fanciful. It is true that there is an implied hierarchy in the role each figure plays within the drama before us. This can be seen in the pose, position and expression of individuals as well as by their clothes. But there is also a slight ambiguity in the relationships between the figures, which seems to be deliberate. This is part of the reason for the unsettling atmosphere. It can not be taken for granted that the man asking the questions is the man in charge; it could just as well be the silent officer slumped in the chair on the boy’s left. It is possible that the commanding officer is not even in the room. Whoever will decide subsequent events, for the moment the chief protagonist is the boy.

His neutral innocence is about to be tested. However, the answer to the question forever hangs in the air, because this is fiction. His answer, whatever it is, is up to us. Whatever Yeames had in mind, we are the ultimate arbiters of the fate of this Cavalier family, because whatever our imagination tells us is true. The real subject of the painting isn’t the fate of the boy and his family; it is our response to this fabrication. More precisely, it was the response of the viewers in Yeames’s day. The potency of this response relied on a familiarity with the rich rhetorical style characteristic of high Victorian art.

he Victorians were particularly susceptible to emotional manipulation. Romanticism as a movement owed its popularity to the public appetite for powerful emotional stimuli. From

Gothic novels to melodrama, operas to music halls, the Victorians revelled in strong tugs at the heartstrings. One reason for this is because readily accessible art and entertainment had begun to reach further down the social ladder in the second half of the nineteenth century. Gradually a more bourgeois craving to relate more directly to everything that art depicts (or aspires to) replaced the subtleties of aristocratic tastes in art which was popular a generation or two before. Art which drew out clear emotional rather than intellectual responses gradually replaced art whose appreciation relied on the understanding of elite social codes or an educated knowledge available to only a few.

However, Yeames was a professional artist and had to make a living. And When Did You Last See Your Father? was primarily created to appeal to an educated or affluent public; they were the only people who bought such paintings. But this didn’t stop its appeal eventually

spreading across a very wide social spectrum. This occurred because of the sale of cheap reproductions of it, and it is a tribute to the artist that it held its fascination for so many people for such a long time.

First exhibited at the Royal Academy In London in 1878, today the painting hangs in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool. It was bought for the collection in the same year, this was also the same year in which the gallery first opened to the public. The collection was designed to include ‘subjects of a popular character’ and to appeal to ‘visitors to the Gallery who are uninitiated in the higher forms of Art’. It was thought that high art could appeal to a broader social spectrum, and that this would even be beneficial to the ‘lower orders’. Yeames achieved this in this painting, but without sacrificing its power or integrity.

eames’s work speaks to the viewer directly. It asks for the viewer to become involved in the story through his or her imagination, and provokes thought as a result. It is important to remember that he lived at a

time more than a hundred years closer to the civil war than we do. Some of the social issues that sparked off the civil war were still causing dangerous upheavals on the continent, and created frequent concern in the British press. To the Victorians, democracy and order were born out of the war; these were prizes to be held on to at all costs. During the time it was painted British history was inextricably linked with world history. The British Empire was seen as the ultimate embodiment of the ideals fought for in the civil war. We were the first nation with a modern parliamentary system, and to most Victorians it was self evident that this precedent gave the nation a moral superiority its citizens could be proud of. The English parliamentary system was copied all over the world. This imbued the painting with layers of meaning that packed it with an extra punch.

With a late twentieth century perspective on history, most of us are not so sure about the merits or reasoning for the war. When Yeames painted it, the war was seen as a necessary tragedy; today we have the confusing luxury of historical hindsight, and most of us are not so clear about it. History was much more clearly cut in Yeames’s day. In ‘the communication age’ the public view of history is clouded with uncertainty, or even angst. The Victorians saw the civil war as a time when the nation’s character was formed. They had every reason to believe that from this bloody introspection Britain grew from strength to strength; and would go on doing so. This is one of the reasons why it isn’t such a popular painting as it once was — its power as a symbol has been lost, along with our power as a nation.

There is much more to the painting than the simple depiction of an imaginary historical incident. To try to see beyond the simple story it depicts, and to see it as it was intended to be seen, we have to look beyond the obvious, and suspend our beliefs; just like accepting the dramatic but illogical conventions of opera. The fate of the little boy and his family is only a part of the message Yeames’s painting was trying to convey. When seen in the proper>>

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES (cont.) context, the image is rich in metaphor and symbolism. The special quality of this work is that its story is intimately bound up with the deeper meanings that the subject had for its original audience.

As a kind of national allegory or a straightforward historical vignette, this special multi-layered painting can provide many pleasures. On the cerebral level it succeeds because of the emotions it generates and the connotations which the subject carries. On another level, the painting is also a physical object, a work of art that shows demonstrable craft skills and thoughtful construction.

Art and craft As a piece of pure design, the painting is a triumph of composition. In proportion it is a double cube, twice as wide as it is high. Within this unconventional proportion, Yeames has balanced the distribution of the figures into a harmonious tableau. Figures are allotted their roles in the drama by their pose, gesture, and even their clothing. The fall of light on each individual is carefully manipulated and gradated to create a subtle visual hierarchy, centering on the main character on whom the drama hinges, the boy.

It is an old trick to use strong horizontal elements to create a static motionless mood; Yeames has done this with the edge of the table and wooden panelling on the wall. However, the haiberd held at an angle across these horizontal lines by the Roundhead soldier interrupts this mood. This unsettling compositional element is a masterstroke. It sets the tone of the whole composition, both by its position — and its symbolism. It is both a weapon and a badge of authority. If, in our mind’s eye, we take it away, the space it leaves creates a vacuum which destroys the painting.

The colours he used are based on a warm brown under-painting scheme, with inky black areas interspersed with the sharp white accents of collars and cuffs. It is clear where his influences came from; the Dutch and Flemish painters of the seventeenth century, particularly Rembrandt and Van Dyck. They were the great artistic heroes of the Victorian era; Yeames’s painting is partly a homage to them. In terms of both colouring and overall tonality it echoes their work. The coincidence that both the civil war and the Golden age of Dutch and Flemish art both occurred in the seventeenth century must have added purpose to Yeames’s work.

Technically, the methods and materials he used to paint it are fairly traditional for a late nineteenth century painting, but include up-to-date practical and scientific innovations. In 1878, the year of its completion, tubed oil paint was still a relatively new idea, and Yeames also took full advantage of newly invented synthetic pigments, for example cadmium and chrome based colours.

The use of a warm dark-coloured ‘imprimatura’ (or base colour) on the canvas was quite conventional, and is a typical scholarly painters’ approach. Significantly, it also reflected the traditions of the seventeenth century Dutch

painters. On to this imprimitura, he carefully laid a scheme of light and dark underpainting which followed the drawing of the figures, in order to establish the disposition of tones within the composition. This also facilitated the painting of the various textures and surfaces which were to be painted later.

The various domestic stuffs of a wealthy seventeenth century home are depicted with a straightforward clarity which is appropriate to their function within the painting as a whole. Yeames saw no need for the laborious painterly illusionism that was employed by many of his contemporaries. The simple way he conveyed the nature of each substance as individual and distinct was accomplished with a dexterous economy. Brass, velvet, iron, felt, leather, coarse wool or smooth silk — each material has been allotted equal care and attention, but without distracting the viewer with over-meticulous detail or fussily polished brushwork. For example, the heavy table with its expensive ‘Turkey carpet’ covering was painted with a flat, sketchy deftness by simply brushing greyish ochres into a dull vermilion base.

Yeames’s methods of representation are both clever and subtle. For example, the gold-tooled leather covering the walls above the wooden panelling, surely the most expensive and intricate way to cover a wall, is described with a direct simplicity of approach. Over a locally painted olive greenish base colour, he has brushed a very thin and oily resinous film of semi-transparent burnt umber paint. While this was still wet, he brushed in streaks and dabs of more opaque paints, mostly ochres and browns, resulting in an ‘impressionistic’ yet realistic rendering of the tooled leather.

ooking beyond the palpable material skills he used to create the painting, it is possible to see that Yeames’s skill as an observer of expression and character was also superb. In this painting the exact

pitching of each expression was finely gauged, and each person in the painting plays his or her part in a way that is consistent to the story portrayed. To illustrate this point, if one imagines the main inquisitor having a different expression, perhaps with a smile or a furrowed eyebrow, then the whole atmosphere of the painting would change. Eschewing the more baroque gestures and expressions favoured by some of his contemporaries, Yeames has preferred a more subtle approach.

And When Did You Last See Your Father? is a consummate achievement; it represents one of the peaks of Victorian painting. Even so, it was also produced in an artistic environment which was rapidly changing. When it was painted the infamous Whistler v Ruskin libel case was still in full swing. At the same time, the impressionist Claude Monet was beginning to make his mark as a professional artist, and a 25-year Vincent Van Gogh had just failed as a missionary, and was contemplating another career. Before long, history painting would not have any real merit or meaning in mainstream art. Art had new priorities; it changed as society changed, as it always does.>>

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES (cont.) For a time And When Did You Last See Your Father? became a part of British cultural history, but it eventually lost its place in the public imagination. For some, it still has a timeless value. One hundred and twenty years after Yeames painted it, the painting was copied, with some not-so-subtle variations, to celebrate a quite different cultural phenomenon which has equally become a part of British cultural history: Mastermind.

And it came to pass... For years people have wondered about the answer to the question ‘And When Did You Last See Your Father?’ Now, at last, there is an answer - ‘Pass!’ This is the title of my version of Yeames’s famous painting. It was painted to celebrate and commemorate the Mastermind television programme. It includes some of the people connected with the programme, principally the chief inquisitor, Magnus Magnusson, whose calm, friendly and authoritative presence hypnotised viewers all over the country for 25 years, including me.

I’d love to take credit for thinking of the idea of adapting Yeames’s painting for celebrating Mastermind, but I can’t. The idea wasn’t mine. It goes back a long way; the whole format of a room where someone is questioned under pressure has always lent itself to this comparison. Various members of the Mastermind Club have mentioned, in the course of conversation, that Yeames’s And When Did You Last See Your Father? had enormous relevance to their shared experience. This is something I can appreciate. As a late ‘victim’ of that chair in the last series of Mastermind in the summer of 1997, I know just how that little boy felt.

Several newspapers also referred to the comparison when it was announced that the programme was going to end. So when the final programme was broadcast, and the transmitted waves of electromagnetic energy which carried it escaped (ever so faintly) beyond the solar system for ever, it just had to be turned into a real painting; even if it was the last thing I did.

o start with such a great and famous painting and to have the temerity to change it is a feat of great arrogance. It’s like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa (I know, Marcel Duchamp did do that,

but that doesn’t make it OK). ‘Pass!’ was done in a spirit of total respect for the original, but it wasn’t to be a deadly serious exercise; I felt it had to have an element of wit in it, even if only in the details. As far as I was concerned, in order to succeed, my painting had to fulfil certain criteria:

1. It should preserve as much ‘the magic’ of the original as possible. To this end, it should have the same basic composition, the same layout and number of figures, the same colour and tonality as the original.

2. The tone of the painting should not be as threatening as the original. Rather than having the same tense atmosphere, it should be modified and lifted with a touch of humour.

3. In the original painting, the people all appear to have particular characters, and to fulfil specific roles, just as in a play. As far as was possible, I decided to include Mastermind people who had either equivalent roles, characters or appearances to those in the original. It wasn’t to be a totally slavish copy with heads appearing to be ‘pasted’ on, but should include slight adaptations of pose and expression in keeping with the characters of the real living people depicted.

There are so many people associated with Mastermind that only a few of them could be included in the painting. I will always be worried and embarrassed about the fact that there are so many other people who, by rights, should be in the picture. But by sticking to the rules set out above, I had no choice but to leave them out. This isn’t just for reasons of space, but because some people wouldn’t have worked for artistic reasons, or for reasons of gender. It was very important to preserve the ambience of Yeames’s masterpiece; and with the greatest respect, some faces or personalities might have broken the spell. Despite the humorous elements in the painting, it was above all else a serious commemorative painting and I was determined to do the work as well as I could.

he subjects having been chosen, they all had to be photographed (I prefer to work from photographs when I paint portraits). This necessitated tracking down my victims, wherever I could find them.

Then, having cornered them, I had to ask them to adopt all sorts of odd poses and unnatural expressions which matched the people in the original painting as closely as possible. At the time I couldn’t say too much about what the painting was going to be like. Because of this it was an interesting exercise in human nature, and it is a tribute to all concerned that I didn’t encounter anyone whose suspicion or curiosity overcame his or her willingness to help.

It was decided that I should include myself in the painting. Self-portraits are never easy. A good one demands painful honesty, anything less requires an optimistic approach. In my mind’s eye I think I make Tom Cruise look like Quasimodo; however the evidence in the mirror told a different story! It wouldn’t have been right for me to play any of the important ‘roles’, so I found a place in the darkness beyond the left-hand doorway, behind the helmeted soldier. The inclusion of the face of the artist continues a tradition often found in 17th century Dutch group portraits. Curiously, such self-portraits always seem to end up with the same air of grumpy arrogance. The reasons for this are more the realm of the psychologist, so I’ll offer no opinions here.

I had originally intended to have Tony Dart portrayed as the man holding the treasure chest. Then, when I was well into painting him, I suddenly realised that I didn’t have anyone to represent any of the Mastermind champions; so I painted Chris Hughes in his place instead. In his book I’ve Started, So I’ll Finish, Magnus described Chris as enigmatic. This is indeed one of his many qualities, and this is the reason why he, above all other champions, was chosen. >>

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES (cont.) ther ‘characters’ appeared because of other merits. Christine Moorcroft appeared because, among other reasons, her hair was similar to the woman on the left of the original painting, but more

importantly she was very helpful in gathering information for the painting. The original And When Did You Last See Your Father? hangs in her home city of Liverpool. John Gilpin’s long involvement with the programme as well as his ‘gentle giant’ bearing guaranteed his place in the painting as the armoured Roundhead. In his role as Floor Manager I’m sure there were many occasions when he could have done with a large halberd to bring order to bear at some recordings of Mastermind. The role was made for him.

Peter Chitty was also perfect in his role, both as Membership Secretary of the Mastermind Club (quill in hand), and because of a certain similarity to the man in the original painting. For this very reason it is interesting to note that, apart from their obvious personal merits, Assistant Producer Dee Wallis and Club Vice President Gerald MacKenzie were also perfect for the painting because they look so much like the people in their positions in the original painting. In my version, Dee significantly clutches a copy of Chambers Biographical Dictionary, in recognition of her long role as Senior Researcher for the programme. The multi-talented Gerald is there because of his role as literal and metaphorical right-hand man to Magnus.

David Mitchell, the last Producer/Director of Mastermind, fitted in beautifully as the brooding, watchful officer behind the boy. Ray Ward, a polymath affectionately known for his ‘nit-picking’, appears in the painting because his personality and face merited inclusion from an artistic point of view. Though his glasses and dark hair make him very different from the man in his position in the original painting, I wanted him for his face, or rather a particular expression on it. Nothing escapes Ray’s attention; it was his look of wary concentration that I was after. When I photographed him I luckily managed to capture this expression, but it reminded me of Les Dawson’s description of “a face like a bulldog chewing a lemon”. His presence in the painting, for those who know him, adds a certain piquancy to the proceedings.

n the right-hand wall of the room there hangs a painting. On the original picture it just shows part of an ancestral portrait; on mine, it shows an anonymous Mastermind contestant, cropped into

anonymity by the edge of the painting. She stands for all those who have ever sat on the famous Mastermind chair, but who could not be fitted in to the painting.

Then there is Magnus. The expression on the inquisitor in the original painting plays an important part in the mood of the whole painting. He is the man who has just asked the famous question; if I had put a different expression on his face everything would have changed. There is a particular (literally) quizzical look that just had to be captured. This was very difficult to do, not least because it involved painting an ever so subtle ‘twinkle in the eye’.

This well-known expression signifies a willingness on his part that the contestant, in this case the hapless boy, should do as well as possible. Many of my fellow Masterminders will know the look, having experienced it during their time in the famous chair. Who could wish for a more benign inquisitor?

With my ‘pastiches’ (works in the style of) old masters, I am famous for adding little telltale signs to indicate that they are not what they seem to be. Usually this involves secret messages or symbols that are only revealed by x-rays. However, there was no need to be so discreet with this painting. My sense of humour, if that is what it could be called, had to have free rein, but without compromising the mood or purpose of the painting. This was achieved by adding little details which are not, at first sight, apparent (in fact in a small-scale reproduction they won’t be apparent at all). These include the aforementioned Chambers Biographical Dictionary, and a few other things:

♦ A Mastermind Club tie in the trunk on the left;

♦ A copy of the Radio Times amongst the papers on the table;

♦ A light bulb hanging in the dark room visible through the doorway on the left;

♦ The boy has his fingers crossed;

♦ A three-pin electric plug just under the trunk;

♦ The words ‘BBC Props’ written on some of the furniture;

♦ The book on the chair has the title Ludus non nisi sanguineus — Latin for ‘it’s only a bloody game’ — Magnus’s famous off-camera phrase.

It was very important to me that it had the stamp of my personality; a dry adaptation of the original wouldn’t have been much fun to do at all. I lived with this painting for several months, and it became a part of my life, it couldn’t be a sterile illustrative exercise, I wanted to have as much pleasure as (hopefully) anyone who looked at it.

On a technical level, I’m very fussy about the way in which I paint in oils. I take great care to make my paintings last as long as possible. If well looked after, there is no reason why this painting shouldn’t last at least as long as the original painting. The techniques for painting it were thoroughly traditional and, as far as I could, they matched Yeames’s own methods and materials. Accordingly, in each part of the process of painting it I had to use materials of the highest quality. For example, the large complex ‘stretcher’ on which the canvas was stretched was specially made for me by Bird and Davis Ltd., according to my specifications; it measured 3 ½ X 7 ft (only slightly smaller than the original). I stretched and primed the Belgian linen canvas myself according to traditional methods, and used paints containing, as TV cooks always say, only the finest ingredients. I avoided modern synthetic pigments that are (supposedly) substitutes for the more expensive and rare pigments found in old oil paint; and made my >>

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ENCOUNTERING YEAMES (cont.) own; for example by grinding real vermilion (made from mercuric sulphide) in refined poppy oil. The painting was varnished with a traditional artist’s varnish, based on Dammar resin. The frame for it was specially made by John Tanous Ltd (a very old framing company based in Chelsea) copying the style of typically heavy gilt frame which was common in the late Victorian period.

I have already been asked several times if I was tempted to improve the painting, or at least make it more my painting in some way. In fact I did toy with placing the boy on the famous Mastermind chair, but when I tried this it looked silly, and destroyed all the good work Yeames had done. The truth is, it would have been pointless and futile.to try to improve on the original, or even to change it too much.

There are certain quirks in the original painting (it’s too unkind to say faults) that I felt that should be left as they are. I felt very strongly that the character of the original painting had to be preserved, ‘warts and all’. These quirks include some inaccuracies In the historical costumes, a few anatomical distortions (for example the over-long arm of the woman in the black dress), a slightly illogical perspective, and that amazing halberd held by the Roundhead soldier; it’s straight from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta! These things should be left as they are

because they form part of the character of the original painting.

Finally, I signed and dated the painting, adding the Latin words Sartor resartus; meaning ‘the tailor re-tailored’ and make no comment about this.

The painter Jan van Eyck used to sign some of his paintings with the motto ‘als ich kan’ — old Dutch for ‘As I can’, meaning this is the best that I can do, take it or leave it. If it doesn’t sound too pompous, this is the attitude with which I approached this work. I enjoyed painting it immensely; I hope some of this enjoyment rubs off.

©Leo Stevenson, April 1998

Alas, we were unable to reproduce Leo’s marvellous painting here, but do not despair! High-quality greetings cards of this painting are available directly from Leo. The inside is blank, so they’re suitable for any occasion. They are available in packs of 5 for £5.10 or 10 for £8.75 (these prices include P&P and good quality self-seal envelopes — POA for larger quantities).

Please send cheques to Leo Stevenson. The cards will be sent within 28 days of payment.

Hand-finished photographic prints (Cibachrome process) of this painting can also be ordered..

11 PASS

COMPETING WITH JANE Glenys (a.k.a. June Wyndham) Davies on the historical novel

“Aren’t historical novels a bit old-fashioned?” a young journalist asked me. “I mean, you can’t really compete with Jane Austen, can you?”

I thought about pointing out that Miss Austen didn’t actually write historical novels, and toyed with the notion of explaining how we could all learn from history, but in the end decided to save my breath. From experience, whatever the journalist writes will not bear much resemblance to what you said anyway.

To define a historical novel is as impossible, it seems to me, as to define any novel or work of the artistic and creative mind. What, as my young green journalist went on to ask, is the point of an historical novel? But she could as easily ask : what is the point of any novel? What is a play? What is art? Pick any answer you like : to reflect life, to provoke thought, to entertain the audience, possibly (for Brechtians) to educate it.

The historical novel finds itself in an anomalous position. Unless you’re a friend of literary circles, your work will generally be classed as popular fiction, sub-section Romance. But Romance is a very wide genre and the unwary reader who opens one of my novels, or something by Pat Barker or Dorothy Dunnett, hoping to find another costume drama and delicate romance such as he or she has just admired on the BBC, may be quite appalled by the warts and all presentation of war, of slavery, or of the convict transports.

If I had said that the historical novel reflected what life was like, my green journalist might have pointed out that no one lives like that now. But then the intelligent reader would not expect every contemporary novel to reflect their own way of life. My life bears no resemblance to that depicted in Martin Amis or Salman Rushdie or the so-called Aga sagas. All fictional settings, contemporary or historical, are an amalgam of fact and fiction.

I’m not an historian (like Peter Cook’s judge, I didn’t have the Latin!), but I’ve always been intrigued by the ‘what if’s’ of history (if Napoleon III hadn’t had kidney stones in 1870, might we have avoided two world wars? If gold had been discovered a month earlier, might California still be part of Mexico? How would Australia have developed if Britain hadn’t lost the American colonies?) My fascination with history dates from a brief few years with a delightful history teacher who made a group of unfeeling teenagers consider what it must have been like to live at various periods of history. “You think you’ve got problems? Imagine if you’d felt like that and lived a hundred years ago!”

But does anyone actually learn anything from history? Hegel said: “What experience and history teach is this — that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it”.

onsider this. The homeless and jobless are begging in the streets. New working methods are throwing fit men and women out of work. Parliament refuses to sanction a minimum wage, and as a result,

employers are cutting wages, forcing even those in work to turn to income support. The conservative Government has been in power for years and is clinging on by its fingernails; many would like a change but fear that the Opposition would not be strong enough on law and order.

Sounds familiar? No, it’s not Major and Blair, but Wellington and Grey, just before the Swing riots of 1830.

“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose” — Alphonse Karr.

Glenys, writing as June Wyndham Davies, is the author of To the Ends of the Earth, a novel set in Buckinghamshire and Australia, when the Swing riots of 1830 coincided with the elections. (The Conservatives didn’t win).

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A HAWK IN THE DRAWING ROOM Lance Haward

y wife brought Horus home with her. Now, competition from a rampant male, that’s normally a matter of some anxiety for the householder. But this fellow wasn’t invited round

for coffee while the husband was closeted in his study. An attraction less than fatal — the hawk-headed god, circa Twenty-fourth Dynasty, found himself, quite literally, on the shelf, quietly ensconced among the tribal masks.

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It was by way of psychometric testing, no doubt. Prove your alertness by spotting the significant detail in your environment. The sort of game that occupies week-ends down in Hampshire and gets you to be a captain of industry or head of MI5 if you score well. (Horus wasn’t scoring any.)

And none of us noticed him. We’ re not leadership material. He was much more executive washroom than we are. In his day, that is.

What with the supercilious gaze down the beak, there was no mistaking one destined for Top Management. Son of the Sun, Consort of Isis whatever, all those honorifics merely endorsed the unmistakeable lines of exalted breeding. You only had to set eyes on this chap to know your own inferior status.

ut there’s the rub — for him. Now that no one any longer has an inferiority complex in the presence of Horus, to the point that the family hadn’t even noticed his arrival among the plebeian tribal masks,

what’s divinity worth, let alone breeding?

He’s wooden and painted, in the tasteful, subdued Egyptian manner, and like a good half of the antiques Sothebys trades in, his provenance, and hence most of his archaeological value, has been lost because of the rapacity of the market. Are we feeding this rapacity or simply salvaging what’s already wrecked? Delicate moral dilemma. You can be assured that Horus, exiled in London, will have a good home, at least.

Though not such as a god might expect in his old age, I concede. We’re a bit short on hypostyle halls in the foothills of Alexandra Palace. But an affectionate respect for his venerability and for the susceptibility to breakage of his brittle, old bones. For his evaporated god-hood, only tolerant amusement.

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t’s a useful lesson, which would well be itemized somewhere in the History S.A.T.s for Key Stage 4. Top dog (or hawk) today; shelf-dressing this time next century. The decline is universal: even the yuppiest of mortals is downwardly mobile — puppiest immortals, rather more so.

All of us, over- or under-achievers, subject to that great elemental force, Reappraisal, as the relentless tide of tastes and insights swings back and forth.

Well, no. There are, perhaps, a few perched precariously on rocks of solid approval above its reach — Confucius, Galileo, Florence Nightingale, Gandhi. Apotheosis for them. For your actual deities, obviously no such refuge.

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13 PASS

WHAT’S THE POINT? Patricia Cowley on metrication

t is now some 27 years since Britain went metric — or did it? I move among a fairly wide range of people, and I am not aware of them ever ‘talking decimal’. In fact, I have never heard anyone at a food counter asking for X

grammes of anything — despite the fact that all food must now by law be labelled and priced in metric, they still ask for ‘a quarter’ of this or ‘six ounces’ of that, and this includes young people, allegedly taught metric from early schooldays.

As an example of how decimalisation is catching on, I feel this tale can’t be beaten. On the grounds that Masterminders will take an interest in absolutely anything, I will reveal that in my spare time (sic) I’m a quilter: I make patchwork quilts. Another even more distinguished quilter is Mrs Gillian Clarke, lately resident at No. 11 Downing Street, and recently I was at a quilters’ meeting at which she was also present. Someone mentioned 45 cm.

“How long is that?” asked someone else.

“I don’t know,” answered the Chancellor’s wife, uninterested, and went on to talk of other things.

t was decimalisation that caused me to make the most spectacular mistake of my career at Mills & Boon (where, incidentally, I had a most happy relationship

with our last Champion, Anne Ashurst, and what a pleasure it’s been to catch up with her again). In my capacity of Production Editor I had, among other things, the task of writing the monthly printing order for the paperbacks -at roughly 150,000+ each of 12 titles this amounted to quite a lot of books. The quantity of paper had to be specified, and this had to include an extra 1.5% to allow for wastage. Normally someone else did this bit, but on this occasion they were on holiday and I had to work out the paper myself. As luck would have it, this all took place just after I had circulated a cross memo complaining that I was being given too much confusing information, and ending “It doesn’t help that I can’t do decimals.” This I proved conclusively the next day when in working out my sum I performed my popular trick of putting the decimal point in the wrong place and in the welter of noughts and dots actually specified 15% — a lot of paper. The printers failed to pick this up and we ended up with 8000 more books than we needed; we had to have a competition to get rid of them as prizes. Fortunately my track record at M & B was sufficiently good for this not to earn me the sack — and I also had the satisfaction of being able to say ‘I told you!’

I could do geometry, though. You can see what you’re doing there.

POEMS Timothy Robey

Some talk of… Some talk of couch or chesterfield On which to take your ease, Of chaise longue and of ottoman And such great seats as these — But of all the world’s great furniture There’s none that can compare With the quintessence of Mastermind, The infamous Black Chair.

Some talk of Alan Rusbridger And some of Andrew Marr, Of Alan Ross and Witherow, And such as Auberon Waugh — But of all the world’s fine editors There’s none that can surpass Christine or Craig, et cetera, The Editors of PASS.

Some talk of Bamber Gascoigne And some of William G, Of Paxman and of Robinson And such great names as these; But of all the world’s great Quizmasters There’s none that can become The Quizmaster of Mastermind But Magnus Magnusson.

With apologies to the British Grenadiers! Note: Alan Rusbridger, The Guardian; Andrew Marr, Independent; Alan Ross, London Magazine; John Witherow, The Sunday Times; Auberon Waugh, The Literary Review.

Henge There’re slogans on the Station Stones, There’re slogans there today — The stones that saw the Romans come, And saw them march away.

The Bluestones saw the Normans come, And saw them come to stay — They saw a flash, Hiroshima, But that was not the Day.

The Hele Stone saw the tourist come With drug and bug and ray, But motor cars and wireless sets Were made to rust away —

There’re slogans on the Sarsen Stones, There’re slogans there today — The stones that watch as empires come And empires fade away.

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THIS WAY TO THE HENGE… Intimate confessions of a film extra by Michael Davison

cene: a grassy hillside in Warwickshire. Time: noon, a blazing August day, the temperature topping 70. On top of a ridge, a towering henge monument made from grey polystyrene, at its base a makeshift throne.

Advancing up the hill, a ragged army of 200 Ancient Britons, clad in a motley assortment of home-made cloaks and shawls, the men bearing swords and daggers. At the top, they kneel before the throne to hear a king preparing to abdicate and to divide his land between his three daughters. ‘Which of you shall we say doth love us most..?’

You’ve guessed it, we’re making a film of King Lear. Time and again I and my 200 co-extras toil up that hill — only to be greeted at the top with the cry ‘Cut — we’ll have to do that again’. So it’s back to the foot of the hill ... up again ... ‘Lovely, just once more will do it, I think’...

Why am I doing this? The question occurred to me more than once. Displacement activity, following retirement from my full-time job in publishing? Withdrawal symptoms after the end of Mastermind? For whatever reason, as soon as I saw the advertisement offering, for a small investment, the chance to appear in a film — and have my name in the credits! — I resolved to have a go. The instructions didn’t look too formidable. ‘Hair unkempt — as long as possible; beards (get growing!); bare chest (get fit!)’. I drew the line at growing a beard ... but my barber did get a shock when, after it was all over, I took a tousled head for my first haircut for two months.

‘Cloak essential — muted tweed or grey blanket fixed by Celtic brooch, untidy and grubby’. That sounded easy. ‘Feet either bare or wrapped in hessian tied with string, or desert boots’. Not too challenging. Swords: ‘on camera it is impossible to tell the difference between a 50p plastic sword from Woolworths and a £109 reproduction masterpiece’. On location it was soon evident that most extras chose the same armourer as I did.

The initial embarassment at changing into this ridiculous garb in the middle of a field soon vanished in the camaraderie of shared masochism. If I was mad, so was everyone else. (A bit like Mastermind, really.) Among the crowd of wannabee actors and actresses there was a high proportion of retired folk: when the call came for over 50s to volunteer as Druids, more than half the men present stepped forward, and selection became a process of choosing the whitest (natural) hair.

Jollying us along was the film’s director and star, Brian Blessed. Like Magnus at a Mastermind rehearsal, Brian joked and chaffed with us all throughout a long hot day, creating a friendly atmosphere which made everyone feel involved and keen to do whatever was required — whatever the sweat and strain. (The unfortunate extra who was careless enough to let his water bottle appear on camera during one shoot was made to feel as small as the character in a Bateman cartoon). Without rubbing it in, Brian reminded us that this Warwickshire hillside wasn’t the steepest ascent he’d made. ‘This is how shepherds walk uphill’, he explained, feet and toes splayed outwards. ‘They do it just the same on Everest’. And afterwards he thanked us for our ‘herculean efforts’.

s sun set, there came a welcome hour to relax in the nearby farmyard, sitting on bales of straw, with hamburgers off the grill, to watch some Shakespeare enactments by members of the Royal

Shakespeare Theatre (just to show how it should be done). Then, as a full moon rose over the countryside — so perfect an orb in a clear, starry sky that it looked as if it had been provided by special effects — we took our places for the day’s most memorable scenes. Holding blazing torches made from paraffin-soaked rags we climbed uphill to the henge where now druids chanted, horns blew, and drums beat out a pounding rhythm. The scene may not be in Shakespeare — but as we strained our eyes heavenward on cue the atmosphere was so mesmerising that it would have come as no surprise to witness in reality the eclipse which the druids were foretelling.

It became obvious to everyone attending the shoot that though this is a privately-financed film with a modest budget it is going to be no traditional interpretation of King Lear. Brian Blessed has a personal vision of Shakespeare’s greatest play — and if he pushes himself as hard as he pushed the long-suffering ‘investors’ it should be a remarkable film that has its premiere in Stratford-upon-Avon on February 12 and in London two days later.

And if, when you see it, you happen to notice a screen-filling close-up of six or eight bare feet, with hessian anklets, toiling uphill over the thistles, two of those feet are mine.

(Any offers for a plastic sword, one careful owner?)

S

A

15 PASS

PASS-ING THE FINISH LINE Ann Fowler becomes Marathon Woman

ntering Mastermind in 1987 was an intellectual challenge, but I enjoy physical challenges too, so April 1997 found me running the London marathon.

It wasn’t wholly my idea — two running club friends persuaded me that it would be ‘fun’ to make a joint attempt. I still had some misgivings when I sent my application in August 1996: the furthest I had run at the time was 10km, or 6.2mi.

London marathon places are allocated by ballot, and by January both friends had places while I, to my surprise, was feeling rather disappointed. Then a club member who works for the BBC was asked if anyone would like to run for the Ron Pickering Memorial Fund, so I seized the opportunity.

By then the three of us had begun to train at least four times a week, with an increasingly longer run each Sunday. Several weekend runs started from one friend’s home in Rotherhithe, along the riverside past the South Bank, across one of the bridges and back via the Embankment and Tower Bridge. We graduated from crossing at Westminster to reaching Battersea before turning for home. One memorable February day we decided to go in the opposite direction, over Tower Bridge, along Wapping High Street and past Canary Wharf, then back through the Greenwich foot tunnel. It was a foul, wet, windy day and we hardly saw a soul; we usually chatted as we ran, but this run ended in complete and dogged silence, hoods over heads and soaked to the skin.

The greatest toll was on our social life: no alcohol or late nights on Saturdays. On the other hand, Jim did most of the cooking (featuring pasta and potatoes) for three months!

We did a couple of half-marathons and in early March ran the Thanet 20-mile race. Despite finding this really hard we all finished, and were assured that the marathon would be a doddle by comparison.

Finally the big day came. The atmosphere at the race start in Greenwich Park is unbelievable —all the clichéd superlatives cannot do it justice. We were, of course, lined up among the ‘fun’ runners — but only a seriously good club athlete can run in some of those costumes. The camaraderie, mutual support and friendliness among so many thousands of men and women of all ages were an absolute tonic. There was more when the race began: people applauded from their gardens, outside the pub or along the street, and youngsters held out their hands to ‘give you five’.

We were going strongly at half way, keeping to our target of 10-minute miles (though it took us 12 minutes to get across the start line) but in the notorious Docklands stretch, at about 17 miles, my left knee - which had been a problem during the last few weeks of training - temporarily gave up on me. I stopped to stretch and my companions generously waited. We set off again, jogging

gently, but I was forced to walk at intervals. Annette and Taryn said they’d also jog and walk with me, as our target was simply to finish, not to achieve a particular time. In retrospect this decision had its benefits. We enjoyed the crowds and the atmosphere much more when we were walking, and we didn’t ‘hit the wall’. When we did finish, in just under 5 ½ hours, we still felt quite lively.

As an added bonus, my sponsors helped me to raise just over £2,200 pounds. This turned out to be the largest amount a runner had raised for the Ron Pickering Fund. To my delight I won a Union flag signed by the British medallists from the Atlanta Olympics, plus others from the British team: Linford Christie, Sally Gunnell, Jonathan Edwards, Colin Jackson, and Kelly Holmes to name a few. There are also messages of thanks from some athletes who were helped by the fund, like Denise Lewis.

I’m still running regularly, but watched this year’s race! Been there, done that, and I really do have the T-shirt! But I might do it again — it’s been described as Britain’s biggest street party, and it is certainly an exhilarating experience. Like Mastermind, you’re extremely nervous beforehand and wonder why on earth you are doing it, then afterwards there’s that terrific buzz from having achieved something rather special.

E

16 PASS

MUGNUM QUIZ 1998 This year’s members’ quiz; answers next issue

13. What circumstance connects the composer Rossini with the character Frederic in The Pirates of Penzance?

20. What work of fiction begins: “Mr. Salteena was an elderly man of 42 and was fond of asking people to stay with him”?

21. What is the name for a baby hare?

22. On which Caribbean island is Fort George? Built by the French in 1701, it changed hands 3 times before the British won. No shot was ever fired in anger by its 8 cannons and there was no fighting in it until 1983 when 17 people died or were executed in a nasty coup

61. Who were the parents of Gaius Julius Caesar?

81. Which three men were awarded the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1956 for inventing the transistor?

89. After the first performance in Dublin, Handel dedicated his performances of Messiah to a famous 18th century charity, to which Hogarth also donated several pictures. Which charity?

93. What post did Major Sinclair Yeates take up in 1899?

145 Shakespeare died 23 April 1616. Which other famous man died either the same or previous day (sources differ)?

265 Who is Barbara Millicent Roberts better known as?

275 There are many versions of this toast but they all have the same last line. Can you complete it? “Wealth and good health to you Land without rent to you A child every year to you And…”.

280 What comes after Londin and Dunelm?

286 Sir Edward Elgar inaugurated which institution which later became famous in quite a different musical context?

287 At the end of the F.A. Cup Final, the Cup, elegantly and intricately beribboned in the appropriate club colours, is presented to the winning captain. Why are the ribbons always right — so shortly after the final whistle?

292 Which state of the USA (apart from Alaska) contains territory which can be approached by land only through Canada?

306 Of whom did Sean O’Casey say he was “Literature’s performing flea”?

321 What was the first Christian name of Queen Victoria?

338 What breed of dog won Cruft’s Best in Show this year?

342 In Irish history, who was nicknamed ‘The Big Fella’?

349 Where is Stephen Daedalus’ Martello Tower located in Dublin?

373 Beside which Scottish loch did the legendary lovers Deirdre and Naisi live after fleeing from Ireland?

443 By what name is David Rocksavage better known?

455 The names of seven London Boroughs begin with the letter ‘H’. Name any four.

457 Who is the actor who plays Superintendent Strange in the Inspector Morse series on TV?

471 What was the surprise that Stephen Maturin bought for Jack Aubrey?

473 Who was Roland Garros, after whom the stadium in Paris is named? (and Phillida’s limited edition Peugeot!)

475 Which is the largest Gothic cathedral in Europe?

477 Fauré’s Dolly Suite contains the movements ‘Mi-a-ou’ and ‘Kitty-Valse’. Which type of animal is being referred to (in either case)? There are two possible answers.

478 Who was killed on the island of Egilsay by his cousin’s cook, Litolf?

504 Who was frequently called a “wretched boy” and by whom?

512 Which is the oldest perfume house in the world, still producing perfumes?

526 What is the real name of Nancy Blackett of the Amazon?

549 Besides Charlton Heston and Richard Burton, which late well-known actor has played Mark Antony and Henry VIII on film?

579 What is Mrs. Henry Wood’s own first name?

600 By what name was Archibald Belaney (1888–1938) better known?

642 Which collection of tales is based on The White Book of Rhydderch and The Red Book of Hergest? — and what made Gwydion special?

650 Who invented Lexiko in 1933?

672 In the 1940s and 50s, a Mr. Cutner was a celebrated concert pianist — under what name?

687 What is the non-naval connection between the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, HMS Hermes and HMS Dartmouth?

692 Which famous Carthusian charterhouse was founded in 1398? It was the last monastery established in Yorkshire before the Reformation.

696 On which race course is the Irish Grand National run?

729 Which town in Ireland has a name which means Blackpool?

731 Which famous ship was the first Royal Naval vessel to have an onboard laundry?

753 Blackhorse Road, Pimlico, Euston, Finsbury Park, Green Park: the odd one out is and why?

766 Why is February 10th an annual public holiday in Malta?

769 In the three major film adaptations of Mutiny on the Bounty, what do all the actors playing Fletcher Christian have in common?

804 Who is the architect for the Millennium Dome?

17 PASS

808 Who or what is the famous ‘La Scala’ opera house named after? Is it (1) the wife of a Duke of Milan (2) a pair of scales (3) a staircase?

823 Who was the leader of Iraq before Saddam Hussein?

824 Which novel by an Orcadian is based on the East Fife by-election of 1933?

825 “A damned un-English weapon”. What was it?

844 What is the next name on this list: Coggan, Blanch, Habgood?

849 In which science fiction novel does the hero suffer from a nasty case of chronosynclastic infundibulum?

857 Who was the only U.S. soldier to be court-martialled and executed for desertion in World War II? (48 others were condemned to death at various times, but were reprieved.)

869 What do the three stripes round the edge of a sailor’s collar represent?

899 The Dutch national anthem has 15 stanzas. Which name is formed by the first letters of these stanzas?

ANNUAL GENERAL MEETING Phillida Grantham, Secretary

inutes of the 20th Annual General Meeting of the Club held at the Mount Herbert Hotel, Dublin, at 10.45am on Sunday, 19 April 1998.

Present: Tony Dart (in the Chair), with Gerald MacKenzie (locum tenens), and 50 members.

Apologies: Joan Bridgman, Miriam Collard, Fred Dyson, Barbara-Anne Eddy, John Flashman, Kathryn Johnson, Stuart Johnson, Josephine Lawrey, Rachel Leonard, Peter and Shirley Massey, Clare Ockwell, Michael O'Sullivan, Christopher Pelly, Sheila Ramsden, Margaret Sillwood, Richard Sturch, Rob Sutherland, Ella Thompson, Kate Vernon-Parry, Tim Westcott, Mary Willmot and Andrea Weston.

1997 AGM Minutes: the Minutes of the 19th AGM at Westminster University, Harrow, on 6 April 1997 were taken as read and signed as a true record. There were no matters arising.

Committee Elections: In his function as Honorary Vice-President, Gerald MacKenzie explained that all members of the Committee were due for re-election and would therefore stand down during an election in which Doreen and Victoria MacKenzie had kindly offered to act as tellers, with Keith Scott as scrutineer. In the absence of Tony Dart, Gerald would chair the meeting.

Treasurer's Report: Paul Henderson mentioned various vicissitudes with PASS of which full details would be given later. The main problem was that the attractive appearance of the magazine cover did not come cheap and there had been a loss of about £2000. For one year, this was absorbable in £10,000 capital but could not continue. There would be no rise in subscription which would continue to be £7 p.a. 1997/8 had been an excellent year for sales of insignia. Paul Campion had donated £70 from speaking fees to the Club Charity.

Keith Scott had offered to continue as auditor of the Club accounts; this was proposed from the Chair and carried nem. con.

PASS: Craig had taken PASS back with a four-colour cover planned but for financial reasons this would now revert to monochrome with a possible overprinting in colour. He appealed for contributions, such as accounts of trips, experiences, crosswords etc, though he reserved the right to edit or hold over for reasons of content and space. Disks were generally all right but he intended to experiment with scanning from typescript so would be grateful if a print-out could accompany the disk. In the absence of any technical aids, a (clearly) handwritten contribution would not be refused. The deadline for the next issue was 9 May 1998.

Club Charity: Pauline Wells spoke persuasively of Pat Kerr's Sripoor Village in Bangladesh where 600 children were treated, fed and educated. Anne Ashcroft put the case for Riding for the Disabled but it was decided that though this was a worthy cause, the needs of the village were more urgent and it was selected as the Club Charity for the year.

President's Report: Tony Dart referred to the past year as a 'roller coaster' of a year, with great sadness at the ending of the programme counterbalanced by wide interest and encouraging support from the members, over 50 of whom had attended the final Final in Orkney. The Club had now broken new ground with its first overseas function which might be repeated in the future.

Membership Report: Peter Chitty was encouraged that the result of his urging had produced 20 new or rejoined members, though he was sad to report that five had died since the last gathering.

Insignia: Patricia Owen reported a good year for sales. Christine, assisted by Phillida, had done very well at Harrow, especially with “I've started, so I'll finish” T-shirts. Patricia had no more cufflinks, pendants or grey ties but many sweat shirts in red and oatmeal and her message was “Keep Buying”.

Annual Functions 1998 and l999: It was agreed that Sinn Fein had unwittingly done the Club a favour, as money had been saved by transferring to Jury's for thedinner which most had found excellent, as the other facilities in the hotel. The concert on Friday evening had been much enjoyed, as had Vinnie's guided tour.

With regard to the 1999 Function, there was a general feeling that Oxford was due. Pauline Wells advocated St. Hilda's College which was comfortable and had parking. Hazel Prowse suggested Manchester and other proposals were St. Albans, Norwich, Amsterdam and Nottingham. Phillida stressed that it was essential to act quickly with Oxford and she would do so on her return. Christine would investigate Manchester as a possible future venue and Patricia Cowley would do the same with Norwich. Dates of 9-11 April l999 were mentioned. (Note: this date proved impossible with Oxford and the Function will take place a week later, i.e. 16-18 April 1999)

Magnum: Gerald MacKenzie thanked Phillida for setting Part I and Magnus for his very hard work and customary professionalism. He had deliberately made some questions harder than usual as such good contestants needed to be stretched and popular themes kept within reasonable limits.

Mugnum: Patricia Cowley read out the answers to the Mugnum Quiz and gave the following results: First: Sonia Anderson, Second: Kevin Ashman. Team Prize: Ann Kelly and Trevor Montague. Easiest Question: Sheila Ramsden. Patricia was warmly thanked for her time and trouble.

Election Results: Gerald read out the results of the voting and the following were elected to the Committee: Tony Dart, Phillida Grantham, Peter Chitty, Patricia Owen, Paul Henderson, Gavin Fuller, Craig Scott, Christine Moorcroft and Alan Blackburn. Doreen, Victoria and Keith were thanked for their work.

The officers of the Committee were then confirmed as follows: Tony Dart (President), Phillida Grantham (Secretary, for a year), Peter Chitty (Membership Secretary), Paul Henderson (Treasurer), Patricia Owen (Insignia), Craig Scott (Editor of PASS).

Tony proposed that Magnus be given the title of Patron of the Mastermind Club and Gerald signed a vote of thanks to Magnus.

Any Other Business: Craig asked all those with e-mail addresses to give them to him and Peter Chitty. Morag Knox-Crawford still had vacancies on an opera trip to Prague at the end of May. Keith Scott said he was hoping to arrange another visit to the Royal Shakespeare Company in Newcastle in September. A collection for the Sripoor Village raised £231. There being no further business, the President closed the meeting at 12.15pm.

M

18 PASS

MASTERQUIZ 1998 ANSWERS: I Phillida Grantham reports on Part I . . .

ongratulations and thanks to the 49, a record number, who entered Part I of the Master Quiz 1998. This year you gave me a ‘full house’ with every question answered correctly by at least one person.

Michael Formby, whose absence in Dublin was much regretted, wins the prize for the best ‘non-attender’.

1. 1797, near Fishguard in Pembrokeshire.

2. 1685, Sedgemoor in Somerset.

3. 1953.

4. Brownsea Island.

5. Arthritis (first scientific finding) — gout has also been suggested.

6. Music that tells a story, e.g. Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony.

7. Bob Marley. Eric Clapton made a famous recording of it.

8. Yvonne.

9. “Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises, . . . ” The Tempest Act 3 Scene 2.

10. (b) Shand.

11. Molybdenum.

12. Rubber-soled shoes, the forerunner of plimsolls.

13. Seurat.

14. Denmark (The Danebrog). According to legend, it fell from heaven on15 June 1219.

15. Madeira.

16. Albert Finney, Ingrid Bergman, Lauren Bacall, Wendy Hiller, Sean Connery, Vanessa Redgrave, Michael York, Martin Balsam, Richard Widmark, Jacqueline Bisset, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Rachel Roberts, George Coulouris, John Gielgud, Anthony Perkins, Colin Blakeley, Jeremy Lloyd, Denis Quilley.

17. Allan Clarke (vocals), Alan Clark (new MP).

18. Rock salmon.

19. Council for the Protection (formerly Preservation) of Rural England.

20. Barriers built by Italian POWs between Mainland and South Ronaldshay to cut off Scapa Flow from the open sea and make a safe anchorage.

21. (b) Leven.

22. The Tate Gallery.

23. Headingley.

24. (a) Freckles.

25. Jacobite sympathisers would pass their glasses over them and drink to “the King over the water”.

26. The aspidistra.

27. Mike Hawthorn.

28. Under the protection of — from Aegis, the shield of Zeus or Pallas Athene.

29. Saturday, 7 June.

30. Sardinia.

31. World Wide Web.

32. Belfast (Harland and Wolff).

33. Sparrow.

34. Roberto di Matteo.

35. Hawaii.

36. Longbow shooting round a course.

37. 0.5682. (The editing of this question may have led to confusion. My original question was “What would you multiply by to convert pints into litres more or less exactly?”).

38. (a) authors of a Latin dictionary, not grammar. Sorry for this aberration — I even have the dictionary in my own bookcase.

39. Allegedly from the royal kennels there, where hunting dogs were kept and bred. Another origin could be Isle of Ducks. Not, I'm afraid a leisure centre for the residents of nearby Barking!

40. Casablanca.

41. South Ronaldshay, Orkney.

42. George Thomas (Speaker of the House of Commons).

43. Sir Edwin Landseer.

44. (a) small.

C

19 PASS

MASTERQUIZ 1998 ANSWERS: I (cont.)45. The Isle of Athelney.

46. The epicentre.

47. Lord de Lisle and Dudley.

48. In the brain.

49. Your signature. John Hancock was the first signatory to the Declaration of Independence.

50. Cook (babbling brook = cook).

51. November lst.

52. (b) the first person to be photographed.

53. (b) 255,000.

54. Edward V. (William the Conqueror technically crowned himself).

55. Sicily.

56. Falla.

57. White wine grape.

58. Crete.

59. Faroes.

60. John Harrison, inventor of the chronometer.

61. Humphrey, after Sir Humphrey Appleby in Yes, Prime Minister.

62. Shrewsbury.

63. The Central Line.

64. (b) pigs.

65. The Driving Test.

66. Legato.

67. The records were kept in Dublin Castle and destroyed in the Civil War of 1922.

68. = (the equal sign).

69. Australia.

70. Tonga.

71. Leggings.

72. 543 miles.

73. Port Louis.

74. Mortgage Interest Relief At Source.

75. “Iles flottantes” (floating islands).

76. Endeavour.

77. To protect the sales of evening papers.

78. Hoy (Orkney).

79. The critical temperature.

80. (b) St. Kilda.

81. Eric Coates.

82. Automatic Train Protection.

83. The canton.

84. Winchester.

85. Lady Chatterley's Lover.

86. (a) heights.

87. Edgar Allan Poe (‘To Helen’ 1831).

88. Holofernes (Apocrypha).

89. Julian Pettifer.

90. Cheeses.

91. Brazilian.

92. The Isle of Thanet.

93. Velcro. He noticed how burrs stuck to his clothes.

94. ‘Cyclops’.

95. Harry Belafonte.

96. Norwich.

97. The Wild West (cowboys and Indians).

98. To flap poison gas back towards the enemy lines.

99. (b) to supervise Prince William and Prince Harry.

100. Sir Winston Churchill, on his 75th birthday.

20 PASS

MASTERQUIZ 1998 ANSWERS: II . . . and Gerald MacKenzie reviews Part II

here are two mistakes — one of commission & planned, and one omission. The deliberate one is number 21, which arose because Victoria misread my bad writing of ‘artist’ but in the proof and

knowing how Nero fancied himself inter alia as an actor, I left it in. The second, inadvertent, one was the adjective in number 97 where Victoria altered the ending of pallidum to pallida to agree with Treponema, not realising that the plural of Treponema is treponemata. It is one to which ‘the neuter gender is assigned’! (Kennedy’s Gender Rhymes — iudex testis artifex!) I was glad to find that Dr Coast-Smith spotted that one.

1. Hassan, by James Elroy Flecker, also, of course, dramatised.

2. Mabion or Mebion Kernow.

3. ‘By Tre, Ros, Car, Lan, Pol and Pen’.

4. Launceston Castle.

5. Because the Dukedom is reserved, solely, for the Eldest Son of the Sovereign.

6. Because many West Britons fled from Cornwall and West Wales in the face of Saxon pressure in the 5th Century, only to return in the half-century of peace following the Celtic Victory of Mons Badonicus, c.496 CE/AD.

7. John Calvin.

8. Nicolas Chauvin, a 19th Century soldier devoted to Napoleon.

9. Lorraine, now French, part of the disputed territory of Alsace (Elsass-Lothringen).

10. The cessation of hostilities on Germany’s Eastern front between the new Soviet state and the Central Powers in March 1918. Vast territories and resources were ceded to Germany by Lenin, ‘Sacrificing space in order to gain time’.

11. The defeat of the Russian Army at the River Vistula in 1920 by the Polish Army under Marshall Pilsudski.

12. Kronstadt in the Gulf of Finland.

13. Through Sweden. The railway line up the west coast only goes as far as Bodo via Hell.

14. HMS Warspite.

15. Omar Pasha, General Pelissier and Lord Raglan, the Turkish, French and British respectively.

16. Count Leo Tolstoy.

17. Winston Spencer Churchill, Rt. Hon. First Lord of the Admiralty.

18. The Cobb.

19. The conflagration, following the sacking of London by Boudicca, the Iceni and the Trinovantes in the Revolt of AD.61.

20. The Last Post is sounded every evening at 8 o’clock by two members of the Ypres Fire Brigade, all traffic is stopped. In memory of the 54,896 British soldiers killed in that salient between October 1914 and August 1917 who have no known grave. The last stonemasons were still at work, engraving the names of the 1914–1918 when the German armies arrived as victors in May 1940 and their shrapnel scars are still visible. Rudyard Kipling left a legacy to fund the ceremony in memory of his son.

21. Nero, apropos of his suicide reported by Suetonius, Actor is a typographical error — correct version is ‘When I die what an artist will be lost’ ‘Qualis artifex pereo’.

22. The Roman Army in 321BC defeated and humiliated by the Samnites, by being made to stoop under an ‘h’-shaped yoke of spears. Second Samnite War!.

23. Venus.

24. Richard I Lionheart to Berengaria of Navarre.

25. Sergius Paulus.

26. Five.

27. The largest drawing room in Europe.

28. The Prater, the Big Wheel.

29. Prague.

30. Dulwich College.

31. Farewell, My Lovely.

32. Flanagan and Allen.

33. The piano.

34. George Chisholm.

35. Melanie Chisholm, Melanie Brown, Emma Bunton, Victoria Addams and Geri Halliwell.

36. Puppet on a String with Sandie Shaw and Love Shine a Light with Katrina and the Waves.

37. Falling into You, Celine Dion.

38. Between the percussion and the clarinets.

39. The Swedish Nightingale.

40. The introduction of lime juice to prevent scurvy, due to deprivation of vitamin C — hence, ‘Limeys’.

41. Captain Joshua Slocum in Spray. NB: only Ray Ward added Spray!.

42. Jean Yeager and her test pilot Dick Rutan.

43. Capt. Chuck E. Yeager USAF in Bell XS-1, 1947.

44. Mach 5 (Ernest Mach 1838–1916).

45. It equals the mean Sun to Earth distance of 149.6 million km. Or 1.496 x 108 km as agreed in 1964.

T

MASTERQUIZ 1998 ANSWERS: II (cont.) 46. Professor Fred Hoyle.

47. ‘0’ (nil).

48. ‘12’, which equates to the destruction of landscape and virtually all structures.

49. Levi Strauss (Jeans).

50. Dr Jonathan Sacks — the Beth Din.

51. The Most Reverend Pablo Puente, his function is that of Papal Ambassador from the Vatican to the Court of St James.

52. General Gordon/Chinese Gordon (of Khartoum).

53. St John, the son of Zebedee.

54. Balthazar, Caspar and Melchior.

55. Persia — Prunus persica or Persian plum — of modern taxonomy. In classical Latin the correct designation would be Malum persicum or Persian fruit.

56. Johan Sebastian Bach.

57. Colonel Philip Toosey, who actually refused evacuation to stay with his men and was not even Senior British Officer. See recent articles and TV programme. Only 3 correct ‘U’.

58. Dorman Long — only Dr Coast-Smith ‘U’.

59. Meditation in Motion.

60. International Atomic Energy Agency.

61. October 24th.

62. Pele.

63. Snooker.

64. 1996.

65. North Dakota — only 3 correct ‘U’.

66. North Dakota.

67. Oregon; not Massachusetts, where the witches were burnt! (my simple trap into which several fell and the ten other US locations plus one in S Africa and Madras).

68. Minsk.

69. Arab Republic, Sana’a; Peoples’ Republic, Aden (This question in proof was ‘Of which country is Sana’a the Capital’) Either answer gained full marks.

70. The late George MacKay Brown.

71. Bernard Cornwell, military, historical novels; David Cornwall, espionage, thrillers — as John Le Carré; Patricia Cornwell, detective stories, mostly featuring Dr Kay Scarpetta.

72. The Battle of Jutland.

73. Charles Upham, New Zealand.

74. Llandaff Cathedral.

75. Barabara Harris by Bishop Spong, a most controversial cleric, in the Episcopal Church of America.

76. The Moulin Rouge.

77. The player is ‘sent off’ the field.

78. Brazil.

79. The Leander Club - alas, my membership of 52 years and now life!.

80. No, he is the no.8 (from the bow), the sternmost oarsman who sets the rate of stroke.

81. 1961.

82. Glanders in horses and Rabies in dogs, foxes, etc.

83. Sir Alexander Fleming of St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington, London in 1928.

84. Sir Ambrose Fleming in 1904.

85. Sir Edward Richard Henry, Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.

86. Sidney Silverman.

87. Ivy Williams — Andrew Curtis gave the only correct ‘U’ answer.

88. Her Majesty’s Stationery Office.

89. In The Times, in an advertisement for Fisons, in March 1971 during the editorship of William Rees-Mogg.

90. The science of smell — the only unanswered question.

91. Per annum. £100,000 as PM plus 43,860 as MP.

92. At £400 pa.

93. ‘J R Hartley’.

94. The ‘Trade’ price guide for second-hand cars — not for the public gaze!.

95. Ashton’s Memorial — or Folly as it is called locally.

96. Insulin Dependent Diabetes Mellitus and Non-Insulin Dependent Diabetes Mellitus.

97. Syphilis.

98. Meningococcal Meningitis.

99. Shangri-La.

100. HMS Amethyst, Captain, Lt. Cdr. Kerans.

Epilogue or Irish Preview A. The Knight of Glin and Madame Fitzgerald.

B. By protecting and saving the King from the fury of a wounded stag which turned on the King.

C. Corbelling.

D. Tara.

THE DIARY OF JACK CLARK

PRIL 16 In this Yere of Grace my April journey taketh me to the land of Erin by $uch a miracle of Science that I may now confound the Royall Society, Sir I$aac and indeed the King him$elf who all did

mock me two year agone when I reported that men might $oar in the Heavens without Harme. I’faith, by the $kill of tho$e who did work the flying-engine I rode upon the clouds as proud as Hyperion, and did reach DUBLIN after night was fallen. In darkne$s I am con$trained to hire a carriage to convey me to Rathgar to my appointed lodging, where one Mme. Rachel doth provide me with mean quarters in a cold and gloomy hou$e, tho $he did give me hot drink to ea$e my plight. And $o to Bed in $ome di$content.

PRILL 17 After a cold night, to break my fa$t with ham and pork furni$hed by MME. RACHEL, a dark and hand$ome lady born in ISRAEL but now married to an Irelander. Lo, how $trange that I $hould

travel to a Papi$t land to be gue$t of a Hebrew lady! At eleven o’the morn Mme. Rachel doth command a hackney to bear me away to Ball’s Bridge, a pretty village of fine hou$es where I am to $tay with LORD MOUNTHERBERT. Already many friends have arrived by the Packet Boat, viz., the jovial Arfor of Wales in good heart and $pirits ; my gracious Lady Phillida ; MR SCOTT the EDITEUR ; and others. I am lodged in a fine chamber with the genial MR. P. CHITTY who keepeth the record of our Members.

While Milady PHILLIDA do conduct our fellows to view the great hou$es of Dubberling, I make $hift to walk through leafy and blo$soming $treets to SANDYMOUNT where one RYAN keepeth a re$pe%able Tavern where I $it at ea$e until I return to MONTHERBUT for a fine $upper. Many of our Company travel into Dublan to hear the Mu$ick of the Mu$covite SHYKOFFSKEY who is greater far than SIGNOR LULLI the Italian pup French-poli$hed, tho neither hath the genius of our Engli$h JOHN BLOW, who doth blow upon the Organ at ST. PAUL’S. This while, I $tay to take wine with MR. PETER TODD of Durham, who hath ever $hown well in conver$ation, until when MASTER

CHITTY do return from the Mu$ick we retire to our Chamber for good repo$e.

PRILE 18 Breaking fa$t with cooked eggs, bread and honey and caffy I prepare to walk to SANDYMOUNT, but Mi$tre$s GLENYS HOPKINS with greate KINDNESSE doth carry me in her own coach to the $ea$ide

$o that I may walk on the $trand and behold the fair expan$e of DOUBLING BAY e’en to BRAY and DONE LEARY ; thereafter to my morning draught at Ryan’s where pa$t midday I dine on fine $allets and meats, then to make ready for the evening’s Banquet at the Great Palace of JURY’S. Thither I walk and on the way I find the little RIVER DODDER where I behold a goo$e a-fi$hing for his $upper. Entering Jury’s, the greate$t Ca$tle I have yet $een in Ireland, I am joined by SIR MAGNUS who gives me fond greeting as we are elevated 9 floors to a noble Banquet Hall, and here I $it with MASTER CHITTY and MR. KEVIN

ASHMAN the gentleman of incomparable wit and learning at who$e $hrine I wor$hip. We take the fine$t of $uppers with beef $takes the like of which I have ta$ted not the$e many yeers, then to our Revels, Sir Magnus pre$iding. By the loving care of MASTER C. GIFFORD and his gracious LADY ANGELA I need not walk back to Monte Erberto, for they take me in their hired jaunting-car ; and when Ma$ter Chitty doth return at a late hour I am already $leeping.

PEREL 19 (LORD’S DAY) Much bu$ine$s afoot ; making ha$te I have to be contented with juice of oranges, cooked bread, eggs, $au$ages, ham and coffy, before razoring my face in readine$s for the ordering

of our Society’s affairs. Meeting in good condition we move to ele% our officers, and to this end Milord MACKENZIE doth hold the Chair in lieu of Mr. Dart, and mayketh light labour of the onerous ta$k in mellifluous tones. When the ballot is counted Mr. Dart, Lady Phillida and others are re-named to the Committee, and new ones be$ide. Our further concerns are to determine the next year’ s meeting place for which we choo$e Oxford at which I am glad, for it was loyal to the King in the late Rebellion of the Parliament. And a deci$ion is made to $end alms to the Poore Childeren in the Indies. Thereafter I meet for the fir$t time with Mi$tre$s A. A$hur$t, a lady of great talent in Literature and this year’s Champion of the Club. And $o to the Sunday Dinner $oon after noonday, to Baked Salmon in the company of my greate Friend Dr. K. Emond ; two new Committeemen Mr. A. Blackburn and Mr. G. Fuller ; and Mi$tre$s P. Ha$tings Hardy, a fine lady of Dubline, of charming demeanour and $weet addre$s, in who$e conver$e I did delight. Next, to re$t and take caffee with MR. G. STUART who$e learned di$cour$e enlightens me in matters of the various tongues of the SLAVS, FINNS , UGRIANS and MAGYARS, and when Mr. Stuart is departed, comes to me MR. GAVIN FULLER, a young man of $eemly manners and fine perception, who$e $ociety I did enjoy until time for the Chatelaine of Mountherbert to procure me a carriage to return me to RATHGAR. Here Mme. RACHEL doth put me in a better chamber with its own privy Hou$e of Office, at no more co$t in recompen$e of my cold lodging of Thur$day la$t. She doth commend to me the tavern of COMAN nearby, and there I pa$s the evening with the comfort of CAFFREY ALE, and RUM from the I$le of Jamaica. I ob$erve that in DUBBERLIN the taverns and Ordinaries offer the old compliment of Waiter Service which is now out of $tyle in England. And $o to bed in great comfort.

parell 20 Up betimes to a cooked collation then to walk on a $unny morn through RATHGAR to COMAN’S, where a worthy old gent of the city informeth me that YORK is a $uburb of MANCHESTER ; for,

quoth he : “Oi did work at MANCHESTER when young, tho I am not a MANCHURIAN by birth.”

Finally, back to Mme. Rachel who hath be$poken a private carriage to return me through DUBBLELYNN to the $taging-po$t of the flying-machine which bears me acro$s the water. Spread like a chart below I behold the I$le of Angle$ey, North Wales, and at la$t my own home in the Vale of the River Aire. Entering my porch before darkne$s, I am acco$ted by PUSS who doth complain that my chamber hath been painted and furbi$hed in my ab$ence, and the turmoil was like unto the Sack of Rome ; but he is appea$ed when I turn a blind eye to his filching a $au$age from my $upper. So to bed, to lie awake recalling the wonders I have $een.

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