Crazes

When I asked T whether she had crazes, she thought for moment and replied that she didn’t have crazes, she had enthusiasms. Which I think is a fair point and one that suits me as well. Before I look up the differences I’ll have a think about what in my past would count as either a Craze or Enthusiasm.

For instance I used to be a trainspotter (and what happened to my Ian Allen Book of Trains?), I used to look at the stars (not Blues players) when I worked nights, I’ve tried caving (briefly), scuba diving (that was great) and loads of other stuff but I just can’t think of anything I’ve taken up as part of a craze.

So what is the difference? Let’s see what my brand new Oxford English Dictionary says:
‘A widespread but short lived enthusiasm for something’.
And from that we can see that the crucial difference is that a craze is widespread.

The first thing that springs to mind is a blog I wrote back in October 2024 about a Dutch craze for Tulips. That was actually more than an enthusiasm as far as I can see so maybe the OED is a bit mild in this respect.

So, given Tulips as the basis for a craze what else would qualify? I’m guessing here but I would imagine that sheer distance would have prevented crazes developing in the pre-print days so I’m going to start with the Macaroni Craze. What?

It seems that 1760s and 1770s aristocratic young men returning from their ‘Grand Tour’ to Italy and France began to appear in London dressed in a distinctive, extravagant style that derived from French court dress. Their predilection for foreign food as well as fashion earned them the nickname of ‘macaronis’. The macaroni ‘uniform’ included a slim, tight-fitting jacket with waistcoat and knee-length breeches, all made of silk or velvet in bright colours, and heavily embellished with delicate embroidery and lace. Patterned stockings and shoes with large diamond or paste buckles and high red heels were de rigeur. I’m thinking I might wear this at the next poetry meeting.

Next would be the Gin Craze. The original gin drank Britain came from Holland, and this ‘jenever’ was a weaker spirit at 30%. The gin of London was a throat-searing, eye-reddening cheap escape from daily life. By 1743, the average gin consumption per person each year was 10 litres. Organised philanthropic campaigns emerged. Henry Fielding’s report in 1751 blamed gin consumption for crime and poor health.

From the 1800s on there were so many fads or crazes that I lost count so I’m going to have a quick look at just the one and that was ‘Lisztomania’ in the 1830s. 

This superstar (and extremely handsome) virtuoso pianist and composer had such a powerful effect on the public that the term was invented to describe the behaviour of his fans who were so obsessed that they wore his portrait on brooches. Women would fight over locks of his hair, and whenever he broke a piano string, admirers would desperately attempt to obtain it to make a bracelet. Some would even carry glass vials to pour his coffee dregs into and rush to collect stubs from one of his cigars.

I don’t think there was anything quite as widespread and manic until ‘Beatlemania’ arrived in the 1960s. And I don’t think I need to explain that phenomenon. However, I should warn people that something similar may be happening over the next few months as the Blackpool & Fylde Stanza Group has just released their Anthology entitled ‘The Salt Margin’. We are prepared.

I’m including this poem as there is a minor craze around the world for this very subject:

The Tree of Lost Soles
(for Maggie)

Out of the ordinary
even for Warrington
so the next time
she went to Celia’s
she took a camera
and an offering

but time travels as fast
as the gardener
with a new chain saw
and a mess
of odd shoes tangled
with notes and prayers
hanging on an old oak
by the side of the A59

so all she could do
was photograph the card
planted by outraged residents
RIP written on it
then take her addidas home
to pin on a stump in her garden.

First published in Dawntreader. May, 2016

Thanks for reading, Terry Q.

Read More

Spring - Hello Sunshine

At last, the long awaited hint of spring sunshine is here. I don’t care that it shows up how much my windows need cleaning or draws attention to dusty surfaces, I’m happy to have daylight into the early evening and I don’t mind the sacrifice of an hour’s sleep to get it. Spring. I can wake up, renewed as I begin to feel some energy.

 A few years ago, I recognised that I develop some symptoms of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) from November to March / April. It varies in severity, but nothing unmanageable, so far. Usually it is just the desire to hibernate brought about by fatigue and generally feeling a bit fed up. The change of scenery offered by a couple of breaks in Dumfries & Galloway works wonders and on this occasion, took my mind off other health issues that are being investigated. The SAD is lifting now.

There is cheerful new growth in the garden as plants come back to life. Spring flowers have been bursting through the borders and filling my patio pots with bright colours. I’m particularly proud of a tub of orangey tulips. It all gives a feeling of well-being after months of darkness.

Spring cleaning and sorting out is on the agenda. I’m aiming for retirement and I want to organise belongings in preparation for a possible future move. It will be a slow, meticulous process because I’m easily distracted and have to look at everything. I spent ages this afternoon going through personal memorabilia and deciding what to keep. It was good, singing along to Jack Savoretti and reading old newspaper cuttings, but it didn’t really make much of an impression on the task. There’s no rush, luckily. Tomorrow, if I feel like it, I might attempt to clean some windows and dust round. Oh and there’s a couple of cobwebs that must have been manufactured during last night and need sweeping away before one grandson in particular goes on a spider hunt.

The poem I’ve chosen is Home Thoughts from Abroad by Robert Browning. It is one of my favourites and I’ve probably featured it before but it’s worth another airing. I’m so fortunate that my secondary education included poetry and learning whole poems off by heart, this is one such poem. It's a discipline that seems to be missing now. I had wonderful, enthusiastic English teachers that introduced a world of poetry and literature of which I’m still firmly placed in.

 

Home Thoughts From Abroad

 

Oh, to be in England

Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England—now!

 

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children's dower

—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

 

Robert Browning  1812 - 1889

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

 

 

Read More