Thinking outside the groove

Those who think of stereo sound as a modern invention may be interested in this photograph of an early 20th century jazz enthusiast.

With radio in its infancy, and its signal incapable of conveying the vitality of modern music, this fan is attempting, from the garden of his home near The Lizard (the UK’s most southerly point) to 'get the vibe' from the music scene in New York, the other side of the Atlantic.

Sadly, some hearing loss was apparently subsequently sustained as a result of a sudden violent hail shower on November 14, 1923, when the decibel count within the device reached levels previously regarded as hypothetical. There is no record of further development after that date.

The message is a mystery

Believed to date from the 1980s, this appears to be a promotional picture of some kind, but the exact message has been lost.

We look for clues, but perhaps, at this distance in time, we look in vain. What hint can we take from the fact that the smaller Toblerone bar is proffered not as an entire item, as we might expect, but in a less than pristine state, as if the contents have already been partially consumed?

The secret is locked in time, and may even now have receded from living memory.
 
The past is another country, it has been said - not very cogently, because you can travel to another country, but not to the past.

Every picture tells a story

“He was here a moment ago. Look – there’s his gloves…”

Though largely undocumented and even unrecognised, the surrealist school of provincial press photography flourished in the second half of the 20th century.

This example, originating in Devon and appearing to date from the Seventies or Eighties, has only recently been rediscovered.

A picture is worth a thousand words, it has been said. Not always, of course.

Irritating... so what?

Call me a pedant, but I find myself increasingly irritated by BBC people saying If this was the case.

We all know language evolves, but as most BBC staff have had expensive educations I just find it irksome.

Another mildly irritating thing, currently, is Word nagging me about things it thinks I should have done - by capitalizing a letter, for instance, or substituting the letter z when I actually typed an s – which it has just done to me, you will notice, earlier in this sentence.

I would like to be able to speak a bit impolitely to Word and say: if I wanted to write capitalized, I would have written capitalized.

It’s a bit like being a child again and having your mother pointing out the perceived shortcomings in your behavior.

I realise (rather than realize - thanks) that this irritation is a pretty minor consideration when placed against the huge number of embarrassing little gaffes Word saves you from. So I suppose I’m not complaining. I’m just wasting my time (and yours, if you’re reading this).