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ggreig: (Unicorn (Modern))

As postprandial conversations are wont to do, yesterday’s discussion in the pub leapt in little more than a single bound from some quite general topic to the more specific one of Minna Reverelli, the Yodelling Prima Donna.

This was my fault. My Dad had an old 78 rpm record that took my fancy, and I have it beside me as I type. It’s in an old cardboard sleeve that announces it was originally sold by Paterson, Sons & Marr Wood, Ltd (Pianoforte Makers to Their Majesties The King and Queen), of 183 Union Street, Aberdeen (with additional branches in Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, Paisley, Greenock, Perth and Oban).

Minna Reverelli, the Yodelling Prima DonnaThe record itself is a Parlophone recording, D.P. 167, and apparently you can pick up your own second-hand copy – so the Internet informs me – for the princely sum of €2.

Mine is actually third-hand, as the sleeve features a hand-written inscription, “Tommy from Meg 1971”. That’s my Dad, and my great-aunt, his mother’s sister.

The track that drew me is The Cuckoo In The Wood, a song in Viennese dialect with yodelled impressions of a cuckoo. What is there not to like? Winking smile

I had a quick search for it online, and struck lucky. You can hear it on YouTube (unfortunately, embedding this particular video is disabled, so click here, or on the picture).

This morning I also found a small number of additional tracks in MP3 format, and some rather sad information. Minna Reverelli was Jewish and disappeared in Vienna in 1941. Please read what little more there is and enjoy her music so that her memory can live on.

Five Words

Jul. 11th, 2009 09:31 pm
ggreig: (Rune)

[livejournal.com profile] huskyteer has given me five words to write about, each of which she associates with me. If you would like me to give you five words to write about, leave a comment. Not usually a big fan of memes, but I like ones that encourage people to write.

Birthdays, Cheese, Biggles, Programming and Scotland )
ggreig: (Default)

[livejournal.com profile] kateaw occasionally blogs about interesting words, and I came across a word that I want to remember, so I thought this would be a good way to do that.

People sometimes comment on my signature, although I always regard it as very disappointing compared to my father’s. Making an attractive signature finished off with loops and curls was something he was taught, and had to practice, at school, whereas I just have a bit of a valedictory squiggle by comparison.

Anyway, the word that I am pleased to have learned is:

paraph:
A flourish made after or below a signature, originally to prevent forgery.
ggreig: (Crazy or smart?)

Wearing a cravat In amongst my dad's things were a couple of casual cravats, and as it happened I also saw one in a charity shop around the same time that looked interesting, so after a few months to pluck up my courage I thought I would give cravat-wearing a try.

It doesn't seem to be an issue at work - I didn't expect it to be - but it draw some comments on the first day, when I wore Dad's silvery-grey cravat. The consensus seemed to be that it looked smart but relaxed.

The picture shows the charity-shop cravat, which is darker. but holds its shape better. The main drawback with this one is that the colour is strong enough that it shows through a white shirt.

Although wearing a tie has never really bothered me, I was pleased to find that a cravat is actually more comfortable. Though I can't see myself switching to a cravat full time, maybe I will for a change now and then.

A quick Google on cravats suggests that there would be no problem with supply if I chose to go for cravats in a big way, but I was disappointed to find that it's not the same story if you go looking for spats. Although I have no need for these items of apparel, I've always thought they looked a bit smart. I have a pair - from Dad's amateur theatrical days this time I think - which I was able to wear at one point (and did, for some fancy dress event). However, they're just a bit too snug to buckle underneath a pair of my shoes now, and I thought I'd find out what it might cost to get a new pair.

Surprisingly few hits occur, and they seem to assume that you're going to want to look like a gangster (or spiv) in white spats. No thank you; I'd prefer a subdued dove grey felt pair, not unlike the old pair that I have. Aren't they even worn for obscure semi-formal occasions these days?

ggreig: (Default)
As most people reading this will already know, my Dad died on the 9th of March. Thanks to all who expressed their sympathy, in whatever way.

Dad in a few stories and pictures )
ggreig: (Rune)
Contrary to what I posted last week, I won't be in London this weekend as my father is seriously ill.
ggreig: (Portrait)
Last week was spent with my parents, due to their ruby wedding anniversary occurring. The day itself was Sunday 24th, but for logistical reasons the small celebration took place on Wednesday. Family were represented by myself, my sister and her boyfriend, Mum's brothers' families and Dad's cousin, and there was an assortment of local friends of my parents.

Come to think of it, they've spent thirty of the forty years living in the area, as we moved to Glendaruel round about Easter in 1975, so the locals are practically family too!

Both Mum and Dad seemed to enjoy themselves, though it was a long day for Dad in particular - he's not very mobile following a couple of strokes and a matching number of heart attacks. He seems to have responded well to being put on warfarin since the New Year though, which is a relief.

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