Monthly Archives: June 2023

Russia Big and Unpredictable You Cannot Help Love It

News just in

25 June 2023 ~ Russia Big and Unpredictable You Cannot Help Love It

The Master of Understatement prompts me to comment that the past two days have been the most dramatic 48 hours in recent Russian history. Over here as distinct from over there, the first I heard about the ‘spat’ was when my brother tuned into the internet to check whether he could sue the Fat Busters company for having sold him an expensive tub of tablets that guaranteed to relieve him of 20 pounds in weight in a week but which so far had only succeeded in taking 20 pounds out of his wallet.

Russia Big and Unpredictable You Cannot Help Love It

I don’t have a television set, wouldn’t give one house room, literally, and although my brother has one, he uses it sporadically, as he finds the adverts disturbing (think about it), so, we glean our news mainly from the internet.

This ia an electricity pole — Some statements are obvious

On 24 June, I received an email from Olga with two video links to what she described as ‘a mutiny in Russia’. She wrote that she was with two friends watching President Putin’s address on TV to the nation. There was an uneasy irony in the parallel that she drew, the recollection that the last time that she had listened to such an address it had been in the company of the same friends back in the 1990s. She noted that then it had been a different president and that the speech was slightly different, and ended on the foreboding note, “Whatever awaits us next …?”

Whenever a big story breaks, I read news from around the world, preferring not to rely on corporate western media, and then after reading several news bulletins or articles on a specific topic, draw my own conclusions. I did note that the UK media was not crowing as much as one might expect. Had the ‘mutiny’ so-called been favourable to the West, it would have been a different matter, but it was obvious in the absence of champagne corks popping and from the general sense of restraint and reticence percolating throughout the media that a possible outcome to the Russian scenario was not one that they favoured. As I wrote to Olga in the second of several emails that day, for the West it really looks like a case of ‘Be careful what you wish for!’

On Saturday evening, we took a walk across the fields enroute to the local pub. It was a warm night. The sun was low in a clear sky, a burning orange ball, and, with no cloud of which to speak, from the high plateau on which we were situated, we were offered a magnificent sun-drenched view out over a rural landscape that coined the immortal lines, “England’s green and pleasant land.” Descending from the corn fields, we passed through a typical English village, replete with manor houses and cottages so old and established in time that they looked as though they had been planned by nature rather than built by the hand of man.

Manor House in English Village by Mick Hart

On the bend, just outside of the village, the local pub was a picture: thatched roof, traditional pub sign, neat and tidy gravelled car park, a small, grassed garden with tables to the front and to the rear a naturally undulating beer garden backing onto open fields.

Sitting there, sipping at our beers, as the sun went to rest and the lights from the pub came on, I became conscious of a surreal distance greater than distance itself between my experience in the here and now and that of my Russian friends.

I ruminated quietly over the emails that Olga and I had exchanged earlier this evening. I had read an article in the British press in which responding to someone asking if the UK government was urging all British citizens to leave Russia the reply was, we have been instructing British citizens to leave Russia since the outbreak of the troubles in Ukraine.

I wrote to Olga: “Did you know that the UK government has been advising British citizens to leave Russia? No one told me. Anyway, there’s no point in you celebrating. I shall still come back whatever the situation. I’m too old to let it bother me and, besides, it gives me something to write about.”

It was an odd feeling, most bizarre, but I felt as if by being in England I was missing out on history?

However, I knew that there would be at least one bright spark in the pub who given recent events would weigh in with: “Well, so what do you think about Russia now!” The reply I gave couldn’t have been more obvious: “I leave Russia for five minutes and look what happens!”

POST LINKS

By Volga to Yantarny
Moving to Russia from the UK
It always snows in Russia

Image attributions
The News: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/The-news-sticker-vector-image/15689.html
Teddy Bear: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Teddy-bear-toy-vector-clip-art/8873.html

Reg gets his Wheel Nuts out at Sywell Aerodrome

Reunion at Sywell Aerodrome UK

19 June 2023 ~ Reg gets his Wheel Nuts out at Sywell Aerodrome

If, like me, you have a sentient rapport with the first half of the twentieth century, in particular the 1920s to the 1940s, and Art Deco is a design style that you just can’t live without, then the Aviator Hotel in Northamptonshire is something not to be missed. It is called the Aviator as the hotel is conveniently situated on the perimeter of Sywell airfield. People who name things think of everything, don’t they?

All airfields in the UK have an interesting historical background and Sywell is no exception. It originated in 1927, when a local landowner let 55 acres of his land to the Northamptonshire Aero Club and was opened officially in 1928 by Air Marshall Sir Sefton Brancker. Throughout the 1920s Sywell went from strength to strength. By 1929 it had its own clubhouse and hangar and by the close of the decade it owned two Gipsy Moth aircraft and played host to 14 different types of aircraft. The first half of the 1930s saw a new clubhouse constructed at Sywell, now known as the Aviator Hotel, and the day-to-day running of the aerodrome pass into the hands of the Brooklands Flying School, known throughout the world today as Brooklands Aviation Ltd. In the second half of the 1930s, leading up to World War II, the airfield’s facilities expanded considerably to cater for a civil RAF training school, and another hangar was included as an RAF repair depot for Wellington Bombers. During the war, Sywell Aerodrome was shrouded in secrecy, as it was here where close on 100 Mark II Lancaster Bombers were built. Sywell Aerodrome escaped enemy bombing during the war thanks to its heavy camouflage.

Among the luminaries who have visited and/or played an officiating role at Sywell Aerodrome are Amy Johnson, Errol Flynn, Freda Jackson, HRH Queen Elizabeth and HRH Prince Phillip and, of course, me.

In 2019, Sywell Aerodrome received the AOA Best General Aviation Airfield in the UK award. Methinks that the Aviator Hotel should receive an award of its own.

Everything about the Aviator is right, in that everything hits the Art Deco spot, from its Art Deco modernist exterior, with its elevated aircraft feature, to the simple but stylish lobby, to the wood wall panelling, to the chevron parquet floor, to the style and effect of the lighting, to the deep low-slung cloud-iconic armchairs, to the historic photos displayed on the wall and the evocative aviation relics exhibited in its display cabinets.

If I wasn’t there to do it for him and Biggles was to stroll through the front entrance looking dashing in his leather flying helmet and white silk scarf and the well-healed flappers seated around the tables sipping at their cocktails and posing elegantly with their long, sleek cigarette holders were to fill the air with more than smoke, toying with such words as ‘divine’, ‘heavenly’ and ‘blissful’, you would hardly be surprised.

At the Aviator and at Sywell Aerodrome itself, there is plenty of divine and therefore plenty to be blissful about. The bar and restaurant speak for themselves, but sit out on the terrace on a warm, sunny day and gaze quiescently across the turfed back garden onto the perfectly mown lawns of the airfield and watch the helicopters and light private planes flitting about in the bright blue sky whilst you sip on the amber nectar. If you are lucky, you might be privy to the famous wartime Spitfire or any one of a dozen aircraft deserving of their classic status, since Sywell is a magnet to them.

The perfect events venue

It is its long history of aviation and the facilities at its disposal which makes Sywell the perfect venue for retro and vintage events. Sywell holds several air and vintage shows annually, some on a large scale, as well as being a favourite meeting place and dance venue for 1940s’ afficionados. In our hey-day, that is when we were running the vintage emporium, Olga and I attended several of these events, escaping from the 21^st century if only for an evening.

Mick Hart and Olga Hart at Sywell Aerodrome

On a scale not quite so expansive but none the less enduring, is Mr Reg B’s Wheel Nuts. Reg and his followers have been displaying their nuts, and the rest of their vehicles, on a slice of hard ground at the rear of Sywell Airfield, out front of the Sywell Aviation Museum (more about this in a later post), for as long as I can remember, which is actually seven years. Reg and his fellow Wheel Nuts are wed to, or at least have a long-standing love affair with, restoring, driving, displaying and treasuring vintage and classic motor vehicles.

Once a month, on the first Tuesday of the month, come rain, hail, snow or shine, (well, at least come shine), Mr Reg can be found officiating in his own inimitable style over the gathering of his Wheel Nuts. It is difficult to say which of the two are happier, the vehicles or their owners, as it is a nice day out for both parties. Anyone can roll up in their car and anyone can come and view, and it don’t cost you nowt. For, as long as I can recall, Reg has never knowingly, or even probably accidently, run anything for profit, although on those rare occasions when it does happen, we worry a lot about what went wrong.

In a previous life, the one in which we owned and ran an antiques and vintage emporium, Reg was my favoured partner in ‘crime’, my ‘wheel man’ ~ he was a ‘wheel man’ long before he became a Wheel Nut! This is another way of saying that on our many missions to assess items with a view to purchase, especially house-clearance missions, Reg wore the chauffeur’s hat; he also wore a sheepskin jacket which made him look like Del Boy’s stand-in. His other claim to fame was that he was excellent packer. He could cram things into a van as if he’d invented the Rubik Cube.

The last time I saw Reg, none of us had ever heard of coronavirus, so for this our first reunion in four and a half years, I wanted to surprise him. Reg knew that my brother and our friend Martin would be attending his latest car-club event, but he had no idea that I would sneak up on him, tap him on the shoulder and ask if he had a can of WD40 which I could use on my ‘squeaky wheelbarrow’ ~ a private joke that would take far too long to explain. Every cloud has a silver lining!

“Blimey,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised, “It’s Mick, from Russia!”

And it was all downhill from there.

I have to say, however, that unlike the first Wheel Nuts event that I attended seven years ago, today’s turnout was commendable ~ they must have known that I was coming. Whilst Reg and I talked bullshit, for old times’ sake (I wrote in my email later, “It’s amazing how much bullshit and banter two people can squeeze into forty-five minutes!”), my brother and our associate Martin were sworn in as deputy photograph-takers. Below is a collage of their snapshot skills and some of the wonderful Wheel Nut wagons displayed at Sywell this June.

Nice work, Reg. You always were a promising student!

Mick Hart with Reg and Bernie Wheel Nuts

Posts about places

Angel Park Hotel
How to make a film based in Königsberg
Waldau Castle

Sywell Aerodrome Website Link

Kaliningrad German Helmet in all its Steampunk Glory

An illuminating experience

11 June 2023 ~ Kaliningrad German Helmet in all its Steampunk Glory

On the subject of vintage and antiques, which we were in my last post and are in this one, the object featured today is, in its reincarnated form, neither, but as peculiar and fascinating things go, it has a promising future, and who knows who’s interest it may collect from someone for whom it was destined.

This item, which is a lamp, was made by and purchased from a Kaliningrad metalwares’ sculptor and is yet another example of the talent and creativity which artist Victor Ryabinin spoke of when he talked of the special people who are drawn to, or who have been nurtured within, the ancient Königsberg region.

The components of the piece are identifiable enough: the shade most obviously is a WWII German military helmet; the stem is a length of shaped and sculpted pipework; and the base, though not so easily categorised, seems to have been taken from an engine of some description.

The industrial look, the interior design concept which continues to dominate cafés, bars, restaurants and nightclubs is simpatico. A close relative of steampunk, it, too, cuts to the basics, wedding and distorting common objects from the industrial past with their future in the present.

Kaliningrad German Helmet goes all steampunk

My lamp, or rather the lamp I am looking after for future generations, is artistically endowed with an evocative bronze patina, which, when the lamp is lit, creates a deep and mellow aura.

Sometimes, when I am alone in the attic regarding the lamp over a beer, a macabre realisation seeps quietly out through the helmet’s ragged holes and makes its way into my mind: “Just think,” it says, “once upon a time the light bulb in this helmet was nothing of the sort; there was a German head inside the helmet.” And I go on to wonder who that German was and what eventually became of him. Did he survive the war?

Hmmm? Pieces from the past do that to you sometimes; they talk to you in your present and make you long to complete the jigsaw.

Beldray at Kaliningrad Flea Market a Surprising Find

English Art Nouveau at Kaliningrad Flea Market

6 June 2023 ~ Beldray at Kaliningrad Flea Market a Surprising Find

In a previous post (What makes Kaliningrad Flea Market a Junk-Buyer’s Paradise) I wrote about the inveterate and incorrigible habit of collecting: call it antiques, call it vintage, call it what you like, but once you get hooked on collecting stuff it’s hard to kick the habit.

It does not matter where in the world you are, if old stuff is what you are after, you will find it, and the wonderful thing about old stuff is that everyone’s got some somewhere. I’ve dug out old stuff, sometimes literally, from all over England and way beyond. Indeed, one of my favourite junk markets was located close to the centre of Odessa, and what a marvellous market it was ~ street upon street upon street of it, as far as the eye could see. All that stuff laid out on blankets, old sheets of cardboard and hastily erected trestle tables, shimmering like a mirage under the summer sun. Alas, something tells me that it will be a long time, bordering on never, before I return to that market again.

On my current sojourn in the UK, I have yet to attend a boot fair or an auction, but I am gearing up to do so should we ever see the back of winter in what some waggish statesman in Russian called this damp and dismal country.

Beldray at Kaliningrad Flea Market

When in Kaliningrad, if ever I need to feed my addiction for stuff, all I have to do is make for the city flea market. But because I always buy something, I often try to resist the jaunt. However, a few weeks before I left for the UK, I found myself yet again ogling up the stalls that line the side of the pavement, and this is what I found.

As soon as I clapped eyes on it, I knew, providing the price was not too extortionate, that I would be taking it home with me. I don’t smoke, but I do maintain a healthy interest in all kinds of smoking memorabilia, and what was special about this little beauty was that it was unmistakeably Art Noveau.

Made from copper, which in the first quarter of the 20^th century was a popular material for artistic metalwares, the box’s salient Art Nouveau feature is the stylised flower, with its sinewy stalk and voluptuous detail presented in relief on the object’s front-facing side.

The unusual four, small, upturned feet that are hollow in the middle and resemble cups also contribute to the object’s organic form on which the Art Nouveau premise relies. Aesthetically conforming, they were most likely used as miniature ashtrays in which to stub out one’s spent cigarette.

The part-planished finish to the copper surface is by no means unusual for metalwares of this period, although research has it that it is unusual for Beldray, who were less inclined to resort to this technique than some of their competitors.

Beldray Edwardian Cigarette Box Fopund in Kaliningrad, Russia

I like it, and I also like the exposed rivetted construction, which speaks to me of Arts & Crafts. The fact that the box has ‘Cigarettes’ scrolled across the lid, the relief wording framed within an incised cartouche of waisted form, has effectively taken the guesswork out of the object’s purpose, but even had it not been literally spelt out for us, the wooden lined interior would have provided the vital clue. Most cigarette boxes of this age have long since parted company with their fitted interiors, so the fact that this one is still intact is the cherry on the icing.

How much did I pay for it? Ah now, that would be telling.

Some things are bought for profit, others for pleasure. In this instance, the purchase of the cigarette box has nothing to do with the money but all to do with its past and the history it connects me to.

Beldray backstamp early twentieth century

I am always interested in buying old stuff, whatever it is, both in Kaliningrad and the UK, so if you have anything you wish to sell on, are decluttering or need someone to clear a barn, an attic or property, please feel free to drop me a line at konigsbergmick@mail.com