Hobbiton

While I admire the character and imagination of J R R Tolkien I’ve never managed to read either the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. Similarly I find the films rather indigestible being too long and actually a little bit boring.. When I lived in Oxford ( and my youngest daughter studying English ) I took the opportunity to learn a little more about Tolkien. He was a professor of English at the University and before the war was one of a small group of writers who called themselves the Inklings.

The other famous member of the Inklings was C S Lewis who very religious and wrote extensively on religion. He is however best known for his “Chronicles of Narnia” written for children with a religious message. Lewis was junior at the University and Tolkien was probably less than pleased when Lewis became very popular partly through broadcasting on radio during WW11. Lewis was a drinking man and the meetings were in an Oxford pub “The Eagle and Child” known to them as “ The Bird and Baby “. They fell out with the publican and moved to the Flag pub just across the road. Incidentally The Eagle and Child boasts of its association now.

Although both were imaginative writers Tolkien rather looked down on Lewis because his imaginative work was far more thoroughly developed. In particular Tolkien worked out languages for his characters at least partly based on his scholarly knowledge of Old English. This isn’t apparent except in the verisimilitude of the background to the books. Incidentally Tolkien was reputed to begin his lectures at the university in Old English by roaring out “Hwat” at the beginning. Tolkien regretted that England had no myths and legends similar to say the Norse sagas. He felt the Norman conquest had cut England off from its rightful legends. He partly saw his stories as a substitute.

The shire ( where the hobbits live ) is rather similar to the English West Midlands where Tolkien grew up. The hobbit culture is very recognisably English. However the dramatic landscapes of the hobbits journeys in the films is provided by New Zealand. The importance to the country was shown by the use of the NZ army to build the access road and do other heavy work such as bringing in the Party Tree

Both books have been filmed in New Zealand by director Peter Jackson who is very much a local hero. During a tour elsewhere the driver was very keen to regale us with his stories of a young Peter Jackson. The parts of the films I found most enjoyable are in the hobbit village so I was pleased  a few years ago to visit the film set. The Lord of the Rings starts with Gandalf arriving at the village. In the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins has his house taken over by a series of visitors.  Called Hobbiton the village is quite complete to all external appearances and is a major attraction with many visitors. Spread over many acres the site in rolling countryside embraces the village, The Party Tree and the Green Dragon pub. Originally built in the temporary fashion of a film set, Hobbiton has been refurbished on a more permanent basis. Because the Hobbit houses are largely below ground the village tends to merge into the landscape.

Tours are conducted in groups who form up at a centre about a mile from the site. The hobbit houses which are imagined as tunnelled into the dell sides are just facades. In front of the doors to the hobbit houses are the most charming; gates, letterboxes and seats; all the accoutrements of an old English village one would expect.. The illusion of the hobbit houses is enhanced by chimneys through their roofs, ie from the grass above. Only at one hobbit house does the door open and then just onto a very short tunnel. At the foot of the dell are the gardens with artificial  produce cunningly arranged.

The village meeting area is around the Party Tree which is a massive oak specially transplanted.  Over a bridge above a stream is the Green Dragon pub. This is built human sized so it is possible to walk around to see some of the quirky touches. We visited on a hot still day so I was very pleased to have a drink but because of the crowds this was outside the pub on a shaded platform.

The return is by the sole access road to the tourist centre featuring all the commercialism including a large souvenir shop.

Why is Turtle Wax so expensive?

Because their ears are so small

Class

The whole issue around class is fraught and I’m very pleased that it has become much less important over my lifetime. Looking back I can see that in the village where I grew up  was almost feudal. The class distinctions were more finely graded than working and middle. At the top was the local landowner who descended from lofty heights each year to give us children at the village school a present every Christmas. This was done via the teachers as the landowner only rarely appeared at ceremonial occasions. The only one I recall was a tree planting.

Next in the hierarchy was a farmer who owned his farm and land who stood above the tenant farmers who, while high status,,rented their farms from the landowner. Then in the village were the professionals respected because of their position, the teachers and the parson.

A few skilled workers came next, the blacksmith for example. On the farms the skilled and responsible were rated alongside, such as the cowman. I suppose also the tenant publican.

At the bottom were those who sold just their labour. In my village these were agricultural
labourers and miners. Curiously even these had a ranking with those who were respectable and those who were not. Respectable meant no debts, moderate drinking, family men while the disrespectable were the debt ridden heavy drinkers. The issue of debt was central, my parents had a horror of debt because that it might drag them down. I accepted all of this as just the way of the world.

When I went to grammar school it marked a boundary. I was at once respected by my elders and reviled by my contemporaries. At school there was no great class consciousness. My school group was predominantly middle class and urban. There were a handful from working class families and few from villages. Oddly the only snobbery I encountered came later from the headmaster who was acutely class aware at the sixth form level.

Class was rarely an issue at university. The students from the UK were mainly from working or lower middle class backgrounds at this ex College of Technology. The subjects offered which were mainly engineering at the time did not to attract those planning  more recreational arts and humanities subjects or the traditional professions. The big difference was with the non UK students who were about a 25% of the total. Almost by definition they came from families  who could afford to send them to study in the UK and tended to be high status in their own country. One of my friends was the son of a Pakistani diplomat. I remember being quite shocked when another friend from Kashmir talked casually of buying a car.

When I started work for Unilever I found I was catapulted into a different class. For example as a graduate I had automatic access to the senior dining room. At that time ( in the mid sixties ) the company was extremely hierarchical. I almost feared I was expected to make use of all the management privileges. It came as something of a relief when I realised that the scientific staff, particularly the younger ones, didn’t greatly care, using whatever they found convenient. If anything there was a qualification ranking and as a mere graduate I was low against all those with doctorates and post doc study. This did stimulate me to work for a years release to study for a Masters degree.

There was a fine grained hierarchy within the laboratories. The technical assistants always wore lab coats while the scientists didn’t unless they ( rarely ) were doing some job requiring protection from splashes. Among the scientists the more senior had single offices, the less senior shared offices, and junior had to make do with a desk space in a laboratory.

I spent 15 years with Unilever and saw in the later 70’s a big change in attitude. It became company policy to abandon the old paternalist ways and with them adopt a different approach where differentials were much more on salary and much less on privileges.

Working in smaller companies the environment was much less class orientated. Even in Castrol the structure was far less rigid although remnants remained. The senior dining room with waitress service was only removed when it became physically possible to have a large self service dining room catering to everyone.

The Castrol headquarters while nominally open plan offices, actually evolved into small groups separating themselves by arrangement of cupboards, cabinets etc. At least here the separation was by function rather than hierarchy.

This flattening has become more widespread in society as a whole although class awareness is very persistent. A village friend who is completely middle class by home ownership, previous management jobs and his own business insists he is working class. I was brought up in the working class but I recognise changes have occurred. The one change I have tried to make deliberately ( and failed ) is in my speech. I have a slight West Midlands accent, not noticeable in that area but anywhere else in the country immediately identifiable. While regional accents have become totally acceptable, even de rigeur to some, I don’t like the “ Brummie” association.

Housewarming

We moved into our first house in 1968. It was a new house and we had watched it being built with interest tempered with some worry about quality.. Pretty much as soon as we  moved I started getting half joking queries about the housewarming. We eventually decided with some trepidation to have a housewarming party. We had lived on Merseyside long enough to make friends in addition to our work colleagues. Annette had been teaching in Birkenhead for a couple of years while I was well established at Unilever Research. The timing was decided as we didn’t want it before carpets were fitted as the original vinyl flooring could withstand abuse. We also owed a little bit of return for favours such as the boyfriend of one Annette’s colleagues who connected up our cooker.

The move was done on the cheap. I hired a van to carry our fairly few possessions from our rented flat. We also made a trip back to the Midlands to pick up items donated by our parents. With a nearly blank canvas we spend happy hours deciding on furniture etc. Some was from Habitat in Manchester and others from Christian Sell in London. This latter necessitated a weekend trip to see before buying. The Habitat storage units are still in use today. My only regret is not buying more however carrying the six we bought in my Hillman Imp required driving back along the South Lancs road crammed against the steering wheel

One question I was often asked at work was about supplies for the party. I’m not much of a drinker and I was very unsure. On the afternoon of the party I was questioned again by a friend at work who declared the amount of drink totally insufficient. He decided emergency measures were needed and suggested a rum punch recipe. I had grave doubts because this required a litre of Aristar alcohol from the laboratory stores. This was super high quality alcohol and was strictly for experimental use. Misuse was a grave offence with sacking likely. My friend airily dismissed my qualms and went off to get it; I’ve no idea what excuse he used as we had no conceivable laboratory need. I dimly recall other ingredients were bottles of lemonade and the final ingredient rum essence. I do recall the we had fruit floating around in the mix.

I had never used rum essence before. I was carefully schooled to use only a fixed small quantity. Blending up the punch this seemed totally inadequate so not realising it needed a little time I thought what the hell and added the whole bottle. Initially this seemed alright but as the evening wore on a strong smell of rum permeated the house.

One of the things I felt strongly about was garden ornaments, particularly the twee gnomes sometimes seen. None of those in my garden I asserted to my friends at work. As the evening progressed these same friends announced they had a present for us. I unwrapped it and it was a garden gnome. But not just any garden gnome but one in what I can only describe as one in a very suggestive posture leaning forward with a leer presenting its bottom. I think I just about laughed it off but I certainly hastened to a charity shop to donate it the next day.

One of my other objections was pets. I declared that no dogs were allowed in my house. This was the source of much comment accompanied by threats to turn up with pets. Thankfully nobody ever did.

I think the party was fairly successful. The house wasn’t that large and it was packed for the occasion. We were planning redecoration and Annette had painted a giant mural on one wall. This aroused a lot of comment as it was of two lovebirds. Frankly it was soon after covered by wallpaper with built in shelving in front.

A number of colleagues from other parts of the laboratory lived on our housing  estate  and I thought it politic to invite them. They included one fairly senior figure, a manager I actually knew slightly though our work contact. This was very nearly to led to an embarrassing incident. The Unilever Research lab was less than a mile away and I walked. One day shortly after  our party I was walking back with said senior manager. He said he had enjoyed the party and added he thought the punch was excellent and enquired after the recipe. This was very delicate and I sort of mumbled a vague response not daring to say the major ingredient was highly illegal alcohol. I lived in fear of being discovered for some time but never was. It seemed fitting that the recipe providing friend who obtained the alcohol left to become a bar owner some time afterwards.

In making this confession about laboratory alcohol I can only plead youthful foolishness and ask for the application of a statute of limitations.