Animation made by Erin Christopher for The Ashmolean Museum, Oxford England
FAWKES’ 13
This must be reblogged today.
Oak Apple Day
Oak Apple Day or Royal Oak Day was a holiday celebrated in England on 29 May to commemorate the restoration of the English monarchy, in May 1660. In some parts of the country, the day was also known as Shick Shack Day, Oak and Nettle Day or Arbor Tree Day.
In 1660, Parliament declared 29 May a public holiday:
“Resolved, That a Bill be prepared for keeping of a perpetual Anniversary, for a Day of Thanksgiving to God, for the great Blessing and Mercy he hath been graciously pleased to vouchsafe to the People of these Kingdoms, after their manifold and grievous Sufferings, in the Restoration of his Majesty, with Safety, to his People and Kingdoms: And that the Nine-and-twentieth Day of May, in every Year, being the Birth Day of his Sacred Majesty, and the Day of his Majesty’s Return to his Parliament, be yearly set apart for that Purpose…” , -Journal of the House of Commons: volume 8: 1660-1667
The public holiday, Oak Apple Day, was formally abolished in 1859, but the date retains some significance in local or institutional customs. It is, for example, kept as Founder’s Day in the Royal Hospital Chelsea (founded by Charles II in 1681). During the course of the day the statue of Charles II in Figure Court is partly shrouded in oak leaves, and all participants in the Parade and spectators wear sprigs of oak leaves to commemorate the King’s escape from forces after the Battle of Worcester in 1651. The statue was re-gilded in 2002 to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II.
Traditional celebrations to commemorate the Oak Apple Day often entailed the wearing of oak apples (a type of plant gall, possibly known in some parts of the country as a shick-shack) or sprigs of oak leaves, in reference to the occasion after the Battle of Worcester in September 1651, when the future Charles II of England escaped the Roundhead army by hiding in an oak tree near Boscobel House. Anyone who failed to wear a sprig of oak risked being pelted with bird’s eggs or thrashed with nettles.
These ceremonies, which have now largely died out, are perhaps continuations of pre-Christian nature worship. The Garland King who rides through the streets of Castleton, Derbyshire, at the head of a procession, completely disguised in a garland of flowers, which is later affixed to a pinnacle on the parish church tower, can have little connection with the Restoration, even though he dresses in Stuart costume. He is perhaps a kind of Jack in the Green and the custom may have transferred from May Day when such celebrations were permitted again after having been banned by the Puritans.
Events still take place at Upton-upon-Severn, Northampton, Aston on Clun in Shropshire, Marsh Gibbon in Buckinghamshire, Great Wishford in Wiltshire when villagers gather wood in Grovely Wood, and Membury in Devon. The day is generally marked by re-enactment activities at Moseley Old Hall, one of the houses where Charles II hid in 1651.
At some Oxford and Cambridge halls a toast is still drunk to celebrate Oak Apple Day.
Portrait of Cardinal Richelieu By Philippe de Champaigne (1602–1674)
What movie was #1 at the box office when you were born?
This doesn’t include my birth year because I’m too old. Thanks Tumblr.
John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester
(1 April 1647 – 26 July 1680) was an English Libertine poet, a friend of King Charles II, and the writer of much satirical and bawdy poetry.
Rochester finally fell into disfavour at the court of King Charles II for the last time in 1676. During a late-night scuffle with the night watch — a scuffle probably provoked by Rochester himself — one of Rochester’s companions was killed by a pike-thrust. Rochester was reported to have fled the scene of the incident.
Following this incident, Rochester briefly went underground, impersonating a quack physician, “Doctor Bendo.” Under this persona, he claimed skill in treating “barrenness” (infertility), and other gynecological disorders. Gilbert Burnet wryly noted that Rochester’s practice was “not without success,” implying his intercession of himself as surreptitious sperm donor. On occasion, Rochester also assumed the role of the grave and matronly “Mrs. Bendo”, presumably so that he could inspect young women privately without arousing their husbands’ suspicions.
He died at the age of 33 presumably from syphilis, gonorrhea or other venereal diseases, as well as from the effects of alcoholism.
Best Comedy Sketches (according to Gayathri)
(1/10) Newswipe- How to Report the News.
*full sketch here.
Source: gayathrik1611
REBLOG AND THEN CLICK ON THE PICTURE. USE YOUR WEBCAM OR NOT.
xxill
fuckin’ trippy.
realreeceshears-deactivated2021
Here is a photo of me, Mark and Steve from Edinburgh 1996! Yes we were young once! We were there with a new sketch show called “The League of Gentlemen”. It went ok.
So, I was at Hampton Court Palace last night for the last ever Salacious Gossip tour.
It was also the last chance to see ‘The Wild, the Beautiful and the Damned’ exhibition, which was taken down today according to the guide. I’d seen it before, but it was great to see all those beautiful paintings together again for one last time.
It was exciting walking around the palace at night with only about thirty other people, including a guide dressed as a posh Georgian lady. The glass of champagne was a nice touch too.
The tour concentrated on the Restoration and early Georgian court scandals, so obviously Rochester, Barbara Villiers, Nell Gwynne and Charles himself were featured heavily.
Some parts of the tour actually made me blush, especially the reading of some of Rochester’s poetry, but not least when the guide told the ladies to pause in front of the huge portrait of Charles II (above) and consider the comparison Rochester had made between his sceptre and a part of his anatomy.
I did want to giggle a few times but I was there on my own so I was trying to keep my composure! It was made worse because most of the other people there seemed to be sweet looking elderly couples. I wanted to say "you can't say the "c" word in front of grannies!" But they seemed to be enjoying it ;)
In 2004, Boris Johnson was ordered by the then Tory leader Michael Howard to go to Liverpool and apologise for an article in The Spectator which accused the city of "wallowing" in its "victim status".
The Hillsborough Independent Panel Report has now finally concluded that the main cause of the Hillsborough disaster was a "failure in police control" and "multiple failures" within other organisations. It underlined the "clear operational failure" that led to the disaster and the attempts by South Yorkshire police and the ambulance service to cover up their shortcomings.
The evidence shows "conclusively" that Liverpool fans "neither caused nor contributed to the deaths" and shows the extent to which attempts, endorsed by the South Yorkshire chief constable Peter Wright, were made to smear them.
“Necropants”
The necropants, as they’re called, are at the center of a very strange legend that’s part of an exhibit at Iceland’s Holmavik Witchcraft and Sorcery Museum (a macabre little pit-stop where you can learn the stories of 17 people burned at the stake in the 17th century — for supposedly “occult” practices like cursing someone with uncontrollable farting). The necropants were made from the skin of the bottom half of a dead guy — but that’s not the weird part, if you can believe it. From Lonely Planet Iceland:
It was believed that the necropants would spontaneously produce money when worn, as long as the donor corpse had been stolen from a graveyard at the dead of night and a magic rune and a coin stolen from a poor widow were placed in the dead man’s scrotum. [Source]
And from the Museum’s website:
If you want to make your own necropants (literally; nábrók) you have to get permission from a living man to use his skin after his dead. After he has been buried you must dig up his body and flay the skin of the corpse in one piece from the waist down. As soon as you step into the pants they will stick to your own skin. A coin must be stolen from a poor widow and placed in the scrotum along with the magical sign, nábrókarstafur, written on a piece of paper. Consequently the coin will draw money into the scrotum so it will never be empty, as long as the original coin is not removed. To ensure salvation the owner has to convince someone else to overtake the pants and step into each leg as soon as he gets out of it. The necropants will thus keep the money-gathering nature for generations.
[The ‘uncontrollable farting’ link is left in there for your reading pleasure too]
The hunt for King Richard III’s grave is heating up, with archaeologists announcing Sept. 5 that they have located the church where the king was buried in 1485.
“The discoveries so far leave us in no doubt that we are on the site of Leicester’s Franciscan Friary, meaning we have crossed the first significant hurdle of the investigation,” Richard Buckley, the lead archaeologist on the dig, said in a statement.
Buckley and his colleagues have been excavating a parking lot in Leicester, England, since Aug. 25. They are searching for Greyfriars church, said to be the final resting place of Richard III, who died in battle during the War of the Roses, an English civil war. A century later, Shakespeare would immortalize Richard III in a play of the same name.
rolypoly-dandy
Awww, I hope they do find Richie. It’s just his luck to end up under a Leicester car park. I bet Shakespeare would be loving it.
This car park is near where I live, like ten minutes away! Might go and have a look.
THE 200-YEAR-OLD LOVE LETTER THAT TIME FORGOT
“A 200-year-old love letter has been found in the arm of a chair at a furniture upholsterers in Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, England. The note, written in French, was in the chair bought in a house clearance in France. “‘When I started to work on the arm”, said Graham Simpson of Theocus Furniture, “I could see a small note, tightly folded up, about the size of a penny. When I opened it, to my amazement it was a note written in pencil, in old French.”
“The style of language suggests the letter was composed about 200 years ago. It was written from a man to a woman and sent from the town of Mercurol in the Alps:
“The translated letter: “‘My dear small love, do not be worried, do you seriously believe I would tell anything to these people, who don’t understand anything about love?
“‘If someone insists that I say something, it will be anything but the dear love acquired by you, which is the great treasure hidden in my heart.
“‘I didn’t tell you to come yesterday because I didn’t have the opportunity, but do come every Tuesday around 5:30, and Fridays as well; I count/hope on you tomorrow.
“‘At the moment I write this letter, I can hear my aunt yelling, who else annoys us all day long, today and tomorrow.
“”My dear, I cover you with kisses and caresses until… I need you in this moment of desire. I love you.”
Source: retronaut.co
