Tüdrukud ja koletised
sovtime:

Антиалкогольный плакат «Прогульщикам и пьяницам — позор!».1970-е гг.
Soviet Anti-Alcohol propaganda poster: “Shame to Shirkers and Drunks!” (1970s)

sovtime:

Антиалкогольный плакат «Прогульщикам и пьяницам — позор!».1970-е гг.

Soviet Anti-Alcohol propaganda poster: “Shame to Shirkers and Drunks!” (1970s)

sovietpostcards:

1976 Soviet postcard (by totallymystified)

sovietpostcards:

1976 Soviet postcard (by totallymystified)

Heritage preserving cows. 

The open seaside landscapes were disappearing without the cows keeping back the brushwood. So for couple of years the municipality rents cows from farmers to work on heritage preservation.

On background logs prepared for being shipped out.

Heritage preserving cows.

The open seaside landscapes were disappearing without the cows keeping back the brushwood. So for couple of years the municipality rents cows from farmers to work on heritage preservation.

On background logs prepared for being shipped out.

A crow on the beach. It has noticed that some boys have gone swimming and left their beach towels, backpacks and bicycles alone …

A crow on the beach. It has noticed that some boys have gone swimming and left their beach towels, backpacks and bicycles alone …

Scared gooseberries …

Well, this year  there seems to be a good gooseberry harvest in all Europe, but couple of years ago the old gooseberry bushes THESE berries come from were standing in a garden abandoned for couple of years and looking tired out and past their prime. Yet, after the prospect of rooting out the bushes had been discussed in the hearing of the bushes, all of sudden there have been abundant harvests for couple of summers …

Scared gooseberries …

Well, this year there seems to be a good gooseberry harvest in all Europe, but couple of years ago the old gooseberry bushes THESE berries come from were standing in a garden abandoned for couple of years and looking tired out and past their prime. Yet, after the prospect of rooting out the bushes had been discussed in the hearing of the bushes, all of sudden there have been abundant harvests for couple of summers …

obitoftheday:

Obit of the Day (Historical): Dr. James Barry (1865)
When Dr. James Barry, British military physician, died of dysentary (or perhaps typhiod) on July 25, 1865, he was laid out for burial by a servant, as was the custom. Much to the charwoman’s surprise, the doctor was biologically a woman. A women who had also been pregnant at one time.
Dr. Barry’s past is a cloudy one. His date of birth cannot be accurately pinpointed, but it is often given as 1795 or 1792. He appears in education records suddenly in 1809 as a first-year student the the University of Edinburgh Medical School. He graduated in 1812, although he was nearly denied his degree because of his youth (17-20 years of age at the time). He then joined the British Army.
As with many soldiers at the peak of the British Empire, Dr. Barry was stationed throughout the world. His first posting of any length was at the Cape Colony (now Capetown, South Africa) where he earned a reputation for his medical skill and administrative ability. He made special point of inspecting troop garrisons and instituting policies that increased the health of the men stationed at the colony.
Even with all his success, Dr. Barry had trouble with authority and lost his rank on occasion. His lowest point occurred in 1838 when disagreements with commanding officers on Jamaica cost him his position, saw him placed in handcuffs and removed from the island by force.
By the time of the outbreak of the Crimean War, Dr. Barry had regained his rank of Deputy Inspector of Hospitals and was serving on the island of Corfu. He reputation was burnished by his significant survival rate of war wounded, losing only 17 patients out of 462 transported to the island. (In contrast the horrific Scutari Hospital, in Turkey, had soldiers dying at a rate of 20 per day.)
It was during a visit to Scutari that Dr. Barry met Florence Nightingale who was reforming the infamous medical facility and would earn her own fame among the British. According to contemporary accounts the two had a mutual dislike for each other from the moment they met.
This personality conflict likely ended up with Nightingale influencing the military to ship Dr. Barry to Canada in 1857. Although he received a promotion to Inspector-General of Hospital for the entire country (equivalent in rank to a brigadier general), he was still far from the more active parts of the Empire.
However Dr. Barry threw himself into his work and once again improved living conditions among the soldiers, most notably by reducing rates of alcoholism. (He also created barracks for married couples, who, prior to Dr. Barry, slept alongside unmarried soldiers.)
Dr. Barry was semi-retired by Army command in 1859 when he was sickened by a bout of influenza. He would spend the rest of his life in seclusion in the Marlyebone neighborhood of London with his dog “Psyche.” (He owned several dogs during his lifetime, all with the same name.)
Upon Dr. Barry’s death, at approximately the age of 70, his secret was exposed. Close friends, associates, and military leadership all wondered how Dr. Barry could avoid detection for more than 50 years of service. Some claimed to have “known all along,” but others were astounded, including his personal physician who wrote Dr. Barry’s death certificate.
Dr. Barry also managed to take precautions, specifically avoiding barracks living for himself. In 1829, he took an unscheduled leave of absence from his post in the British West Indies. When asked about it by his commanding officer, Dr. Barry said he had returned to London for a haircut. Some scholars now believe that the return to England was precipitated by Dr. Barry’s well-hidden pregnancy.
The British Army sealed Dr. Barry’s records for 100 years after his death, but Isobel Rae, a British historian, was able to access them in the 1950s. Through her research it was determined that Dr. Barry was most likely Margaret Ann Bulkley. What is not known is whether Dr. Barry lived as a man simply to have the opportunity to work as a physician - a position denied to most women at the time, or if he was expressing his gender identity. (There is a theory that Dr. Barry was born intersex but that appears to be a minority opinion.)
Dr. James Barry is buried in Kensal Green Cemetery in London with full rank.
Sources: BBC News, Biographical Dictionary of Canada, USMedicine.com (via WayBack Machine), Wikipedia
(Image of Dr. James Barry with his manservant John and Barry’s dog Psyche, c. 1862 courtesy of Wikimedia.org)

obitoftheday:

Obit of the Day (Historical): Dr. James Barry (1865)

When Dr. James Barry, British military physician, died of dysentary (or perhaps typhiod) on July 25, 1865, he was laid out for burial by a servant, as was the custom. Much to the charwoman’s surprise, the doctor was biologically a woman. A women who had also been pregnant at one time.

Dr. Barry’s past is a cloudy one. His date of birth cannot be accurately pinpointed, but it is often given as 1795 or 1792. He appears in education records suddenly in 1809 as a first-year student the the University of Edinburgh Medical School. He graduated in 1812, although he was nearly denied his degree because of his youth (17-20 years of age at the time). He then joined the British Army.

As with many soldiers at the peak of the British Empire, Dr. Barry was stationed throughout the world. His first posting of any length was at the Cape Colony (now Capetown, South Africa) where he earned a reputation for his medical skill and administrative ability. He made special point of inspecting troop garrisons and instituting policies that increased the health of the men stationed at the colony.

Even with all his success, Dr. Barry had trouble with authority and lost his rank on occasion. His lowest point occurred in 1838 when disagreements with commanding officers on Jamaica cost him his position, saw him placed in handcuffs and removed from the island by force.

By the time of the outbreak of the Crimean War, Dr. Barry had regained his rank of Deputy Inspector of Hospitals and was serving on the island of Corfu. He reputation was burnished by his significant survival rate of war wounded, losing only 17 patients out of 462 transported to the island. (In contrast the horrific Scutari Hospital, in Turkey, had soldiers dying at a rate of 20 per day.)

It was during a visit to Scutari that Dr. Barry met Florence Nightingale who was reforming the infamous medical facility and would earn her own fame among the British. According to contemporary accounts the two had a mutual dislike for each other from the moment they met.

This personality conflict likely ended up with Nightingale influencing the military to ship Dr. Barry to Canada in 1857. Although he received a promotion to Inspector-General of Hospital for the entire country (equivalent in rank to a brigadier general), he was still far from the more active parts of the Empire.

However Dr. Barry threw himself into his work and once again improved living conditions among the soldiers, most notably by reducing rates of alcoholism. (He also created barracks for married couples, who, prior to Dr. Barry, slept alongside unmarried soldiers.)

Dr. Barry was semi-retired by Army command in 1859 when he was sickened by a bout of influenza. He would spend the rest of his life in seclusion in the Marlyebone neighborhood of London with his dog “Psyche.” (He owned several dogs during his lifetime, all with the same name.)

Upon Dr. Barry’s death, at approximately the age of 70, his secret was exposed. Close friends, associates, and military leadership all wondered how Dr. Barry could avoid detection for more than 50 years of service. Some claimed to have “known all along,” but others were astounded, including his personal physician who wrote Dr. Barry’s death certificate.

Dr. Barry also managed to take precautions, specifically avoiding barracks living for himself. In 1829, he took an unscheduled leave of absence from his post in the British West Indies. When asked about it by his commanding officer, Dr. Barry said he had returned to London for a haircut. Some scholars now believe that the return to England was precipitated by Dr. Barry’s well-hidden pregnancy.

The British Army sealed Dr. Barry’s records for 100 years after his death, but Isobel Rae, a British historian, was able to access them in the 1950s. Through her research it was determined that Dr. Barry was most likely Margaret Ann Bulkley. What is not known is whether Dr. Barry lived as a man simply to have the opportunity to work as a physician - a position denied to most women at the time, or if he was expressing his gender identity. (There is a theory that Dr. Barry was born intersex but that appears to be a minority opinion.)

Dr. James Barry is buried in Kensal Green Cemetery in London with full rank.

Sources: BBC News, Biographical Dictionary of Canada, USMedicine.com (via WayBack Machine), Wikipedia

(Image of Dr. James Barry with his manservant John and Barry’s dog Psyche, c. 1862 courtesy of Wikimedia.org)

50watts:

Helena Bochořáková-Dittrichová. I read about this woman in Signals from the Unknown: Czech Comics 1922-2012, Googled her, and found a HuffPo article had been posted 9 hours before my Googling. Good timing. It promotes the exhibit The First Woman Graphic Novelist: Helena Bochořáková-Dittrichová.

The summer cabin in the gardening cooperative my aunt Salme co-owns with another woman has a covered terrace between the two rooms. Aunt Salme used to have couple of cats visiting, so she left the fish guts on a plate in front of the fireplace there usually.

The crow, though, still bullied the cats away from the plate.

Until the day when aunt Salme caught it.

Seeing aunt in the doorway, the crow took flight toward the other open door, that went into the living room. And there the crow hit the windowpane and aunt Salme caught it - holding the legs of the bird with one hand, its neck with other hand and pressing the body under her arm.

"I told the crow: ’ So, will I turn your neck now? Or if I let you go, should I ever see you here again, THEN your neck would be surely broken!’ I repeated this lecture for couple of times, before letting the crow go. And after that the crow only crowed at me angrily from nearby trees, never daring to come closer and steal the titbits left for the cats."

The summer cabin in the gardening cooperative my aunt Salme co-owns with another woman has a covered terrace between the two rooms. Aunt Salme used to have couple of cats visiting, so she left the fish guts on a plate in front of the fireplace there usually.

The crow, though, still bullied the cats away from the plate.

Until the day when aunt Salme caught it.

Seeing aunt in the doorway, the crow took flight toward the other open door, that went into the living room. And there the crow hit the windowpane and aunt Salme caught it - holding the legs of the bird with one hand, its neck with other hand and pressing the body under her arm.

"I told the crow: ’ So, will I turn your neck now? Or if I let you go, should I ever see you here again, THEN your neck would be surely broken!’ I repeated this lecture for couple of times, before letting the crow go. And after that the crow only crowed at me angrily from nearby trees, never daring to come closer and steal the titbits left for the cats."

A postcard showing a colour board from 1895 Encyclopedia. The berries marked as 10.-14. are gooseberries.

I learned surfing the net that “the Gooseberry was enormously fashionable in Victorian England (& is remarkably easy to grow here), & all over the northern half of the country (from the midlands upwards) Gooseberry Societies became popular & fiercely competitive. They were dedicated to the cultivation & breeding of new & improved varieties of the humble goozgog! Although in more modern times this old-fashioned fruit has lost favour & many of these societies no longer exist, there is a resurgence of interest & those societies still in existence are gaining again in membership & popularity.” Don’t you love the knowledgeable people one has the possibility to read on the Internet ?! 

The summer seems to have agreed with gooseberries, there is a good harvest of them. Wondering should I just think “This, too, will pass!” and ignore the berries, or should there be some gooseberry chutney?

My late aunt used to have a German shepherd dog, who ate gooseberries from the bush, not minding the thorns. We only saw him doing so when we were also eating the gooseberries, so we never figured out did the dog actually like the berries or was he eating just for the pleasure of the company?

Also, this is a good moment to listen the adult cover of the song about wicked gooseberry again!

A postcard showing a colour board from 1895 Encyclopedia. The berries marked as 10.-14. are gooseberries.

I learned surfing the net that “the Gooseberry was enormously fashionable in Victorian England (& is remarkably easy to grow here), & all over the northern half of the country (from the midlands upwards) Gooseberry Societies became popular & fiercely competitive. They were dedicated to the cultivation & breeding of new & improved varieties of the humble goozgog! Although in more modern times this old-fashioned fruit has lost favour & many of these societies no longer exist, there is a resurgence of interest & those societies still in existence are gaining again in membership & popularity.” Don’t you love the knowledgeable people one has the possibility to read on the Internet ?!

The summer seems to have agreed with gooseberries, there is a good harvest of them. Wondering should I just think “This, too, will pass!” and ignore the berries, or should there be some gooseberry chutney?

My late aunt used to have a German shepherd dog, who ate gooseberries from the bush, not minding the thorns. We only saw him doing so when we were also eating the gooseberries, so we never figured out did the dog actually like the berries or was he eating just for the pleasure of the company?

Also, this is a good moment to listen the adult cover of the song about wicked gooseberry again!

This cover illustration by Harry Beckhoff may have gotten the trousers Herbie wears wrong, though. As, if Herbie himself also wears long trousers already, why would he describe older boys as seeming “very grand and old in their long trousers”

This cover illustration by Harry Beckhoff may have gotten the trousers Herbie wears wrong, though. As, if Herbie himself also wears long trousers already, why would he describe older boys as seeming “very grand and old in their long trousers”