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His second son, Kermit Roosevelt, was named after his mother and her brother who had died as an infant. The name has clicked so well with succeeding Roosevelt generations that it possesses its own Wikipedia disambiguation page to helpfully disambiguate between the original Kermit, Kermit Jr, Kermit Jr (II), and Kermit III, who is a law professor and writer.
Channel 42
When staying at the scenically matchless Stanley Hotel in Colorado be sure to remember to dial 42 on the TV remote. Channel 42 shows Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 horror film The Shining on a continuous loop. Stephen King stayed at The Stanley Hotel in Colorado prior to writing The Shining. The Overlook in the film where Jack Nicholson’s character is the winter caretaker was based on the Stanley Hotel.
The Stanley Hotel was built by one of the two brothers of Stanley Steamers fame. Steam-powered, Stanleys were the fastest cars in the world from 1906 to 1911, racing about at 28 mph. They were soon to be superseded by much cheaper, mass-produced, petrol-engined cars such as Ford’s Model T.
* Einstein and religion was a major subject of interest during his lifetime; he was brought up in a non-observant Jewish family and first attended a Catholic school but did not believe in anthropomorphic concepts of God, saying he had a deeply religious attitude…if that attitude comprised knowing that mankind was unable to understand all the beauty and complexity of the universe. He was a Humanist.
Notables
QE42
The Queen of the United Kingdom, Elizabeth II, was the 42nd most powerful woman in the world in 2009 according to Forbes magazine. This was great news for Britain’s oldest reigning monarch, having risen 16 places from 58th in 2008. Ahead of her Majesty in 2009 were Oprah Winfrey (41st), Michelle Obama (40th) and Marina Berlusconi (33rd).
Number one as the world’s most powerful woman was the German Chancellor Angela Merkel according to the Forbes’ people who assess the power of all the world’s women but who have not had the pleasure of spending quality time arm-wrestling with Mrs Gill.
Lot 33
In 2008, in a sale catalogue for Christie’s London auction-rooms, lot 33 was described as a boomerang that had belonged to Captain Cook’s widow, Elizabeth. Disappointingly it was withdrawn when its provenance was questioned, one Australian had declaimed that the treasure was no more than a ‘bent stick’. This original radio transcript has now been made up to provide the clarification needed to satisfy the most demanding of boomerang buyers.
Dramatis Personæ (A Vogon stagehand. Seen shifting a stage direction into the wings as the curtains open)
James T. Cook (An easy on the ear, Clive James sound-clone)
Elizabeth Cook (Anne Stallybrass, or if not available, Jane Austen)
It is 1771 and the scene is a small house in the East End of London, unfashionably close to the docks. Thirtysomething Elizabeth Cook keels a blackened pot. [F/X: Footsteps outside, and cheerful whistling.] A jaunty nautical type nears carrying a tune. Waltzing Matilda. The door opens and forty-two year old Lieutenant James T. Cook of the British Navy stands in the doorway, beaming from a tanned face.
JAMES Hi honey, I’m home!
ELIZABETH …James!
James drops an armload of parcels. They embrace with a view to sex later.
ELIZABETH …where have you been! You just said your new fo’c’sle was here and you were disappearing down the Lord Lucan to enquire if anyone was desirous of availing themselves of a bit of a jolly round the estuary, and…then…nothing…
JAMES I know - I know - I know - but the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and there was an ace blow on. The boys were enjoying themselves and we thought we’d kind of keep going, for a bit.
ELIZABETH That was three years ago hen-wit. Three years. Where the Belgium have you been for three years? Supper’s ruined.
JAMES (checking off list on fingers) The Society Islands, The Friendly Islands, The Navigator Islands, Easter Island, The Eponymous Cook Islands, New Zealand, Norfolk Island and then, bang, we hit Australia. Look darling, engravings of the collision for the insurance fellas. Here, open the presents.
ELIZABETH (unwrapping a half-full (Oz adaption), or half-empty (Pom adaption), bottle of Bundaberg Rum). What, is, Bundaberg?
JAMES Our first great Australian discovery, that’s what; the old Endeavour was being completely chewed to pieces by Teredo worms when spunky little Kylie at the Kurnell Bottle-o suggested buying some Bundy to treat the ship’s timbers. Plus, she said, every hogshead’s rammed full of vitamin C which we’d surely be needing if the Cointreau went low on the way home; and there was a special offer on for us platinum loyalty card customers.
ELIZABETH …and…this…thing?
JAMES My dearest, you are holding the first euphemism from down-under ever to reach the shores of England.
ELIZABETH Sir. Though book-learning I may lack, ’tis well I know the difference between a penis and your didgeridoo, I think.
JAMES Fair enough, how about first wang with the boomerang…
ELIZABETH James, need’st I remind thee, ensconced we are in the East End of London. The second biggest city in the world. What good be a boomerang? Emu is very, very, extremely scarce. Who hereabouts has seen Drop-bear spoor? There are a complete lack of Wallaby and Kangaroo…
THE VOICE Lieutenant James T. Cook RN frowns. He looks at his new K1 Larcum Kendall; at £450 it is the most expensive chronometer in the world and the big hand is on ten. A face considered dour, even in its native Yorkshire, smiles.
JAMES Elizabeth. Eyes on me. Relax. The boys will still be in the Lord Lucan: we can sail on the morrow’s arvo tide. No worries Liz – we’ll fetch you some ’roo.
FADE
Mosi Oa Tunya?
The Victoria Falls were named for Queen Victoria in 1855 by explorer David Livingstone when he was forty-two and at the height of his discovering powers. His name is their second name, the falls already being known more lyrically as Mosi oa Tunya meaning Thundering Smoke. Heights, water volumes, and breadths of waterfalls are contested as different ways of claiming waterfall bragging rights, and the Victoria Falls heads the category for being the biggest sheet of falling water in the world.
Livingstone didn’t undersell his discovery, writing that their beauty was greater than anything you could discern in England and that ‘scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight.’ It was not disclosed whether any hospitality had been received from the tourist board. The falls have two statues of Livingstone; one for the Zimbabwean side and one for the Zambian.
Livingstone died eighteen years later, very ill but still bent on exploring and trying to locate the source of the River Nile. After his death Dr Livingstone was sub-divided; his heart being buried in Africa near Chief Chitambo’s village in Zambia, the balance of his remains being in London’s Westminster Abbey. At a remote spot towards the north of Tanganyika Lake there is The Livingstone Stone where—or near where—the even more remarkable Sir Henry Stanley located Livingstone and may—or may not—have said, ‘Dr Livingstone, I presume.’
Dave the Wise
1936 was a whirlwind of a year for the new king of England. In a single period of 366 days King Edward VIII became the first King Dave (David to family and friends) of the United Kingdom and the Dominions, and the first monarch to fly as well as rule over England. There was also the serious matter of finding a birthday cake large enough for the 42 candles that would wow Wallis on his first birthday as King. This box ticked he wasted not a Royal moment before mastering the demanding skillset required to precipitate an abdication crisis, while at the same time—the man knew about multi-tasking—sensibly synchronising royal diaries with the rest of the world by administering a royal knock on the head to the fin de siècle wackiness known as Sandringham Time.
Sandringham Time
The notion of Sandringham Time (ST) was created by Edward VIII’s grandfather, Edward VII (think cigars, lots of cigars), as an adroit means of creating more daylight for hunting and shooting during the winter. All t
he clocks around Sandringham, their Norfolk palace in the country, were set 30 minutes ahead of GMT and the rest of the realm except—to avoid the possibility of palace lag—the clocks in Balmoral and Windsor Castles, which were also set to ST.
After Edward’s abdication his brother, George VI, had to put in an offer to his ex-king to buy back Sandringham House and Balmoral Castle because both properties were privately owned by the King rather than going with the job of being monarch in the manner of, say, a Buckingham Palace or a Windsor Castle. The purchase prices were secret but are likely to have been, at the very least, several multiples of £42.
Eddie Izzard
Followed by an ice-cream van playing the theme from Chariots of Fire and giving away ice-cream, comedian Eddie Izzard ran through St Albans on the penultimate marathon of the 43 he completed within 51 days during 2009 to raise money for the charity Sports Relief.
Zero Pound PM
Britons using Australia’s assisted migration scheme were known as ten pound poms—ten pounds being all you needed to pay for a voyage of 42 days (depending on ship and any stops) from England to Australia via the Suez Canal. The scheme ran from the 1940s until 1973 when the price increased to £75. Some of the well-known ten pound poms include:
Name Sailed Age Achievement
Harold Larwood 1950 45 Cricket fast bowler in the 1932 ‘fix Bradman’ bodyline series
Carol Jones (Minogue) 1955 12 Mum of Kylie (42) and Danii Minogue
Frank Tyson 1960 30 Cricketing bowler ‘Typhoon Tyson’
Mick Hadley 1962 19 Lead vocalist with rock group ‘The Purple Hearts’ featuring Lobby Loyde
Robert Wood 1963 c. 13 NSW Senator for Nuclear Disarmament Party. Disqualified in 1988 when revealed he was not a citizen of Oz
David Stratton 1963 22 Popular TV and newspaper film critic
Richard Pengelley 1966 5 Water Polo Olympian ‘82 and ‘86
Julia Gillard 1966 4 The current Australian Prime Minister. Born in Wales, parents made no extra payment to bring children
Peter Allen c.1966 c. 20 UK Presenter, BBC Radio Five Live. About three-in-four assisted migrants made Australia their new home
Chris & Grace Jackman 1967 - Parents of film star Hugh Jackman (42)
John Hamblin c.1968 c. 33 ‘Funny John’, Australian children’s TV Play School presenter. Appeared in The Prisoner (1967) and Riptide (1969)
John Young 1970s c. 24 Joined the Australian ‘Rich List’ after establishing the Great Southern Group. Left the list in 2009 when the GSG went into liquidation
People from many other countries have migrated and continue to migrate to Australia. Over 42% of Australians were born elsewhere.
Super Hero
‘And I didn’t get killed in the flat’. Test pilot Chuck Yeager’s unique turn of phrase describing the last portion of a unique escape from death. On somewhere around his 42nd flight in a rocket version of the Lockheed Starfighter he was 21 miles up to test the plane’s performance limits, which he found when it started spinning uncontrollably. After being dropped nearly 20 miles he availed himself of ‘the egress system’ to become the first pilot to eject in an oxygenated pressure suit. Then, as seen in the 1983 film The Right Stuff made twenty years later and in which Yeager makes a cameo appearance as a bartender, there was a situation-shift: moving from bad into downright disastrous. After ejection, the pilot needs to be ejected in turn from his ejector seat by the ‘butt-kicker’. This worked, but his falling ejector seat stayed too close and snagged with his own chute. The heavy seat crashed into him and a rocket with un-burnt fuel smashed through his visor, injuring his face, and burning in the oxygen ‘like a blow-torch’. This resulted in very serious burns to his face and neck. Then he made the ground—landing softly enough to escape being ‘killed in the flat’.
Between Edwards Air Force Base where Yeager flew and Los Angeles is Air Force Plant 42 the manufacturing facility for secret military aircraft. The area includes the Lockheed Skunkworks, famed for quick project development, the first being completion in 143 days of the first US jet fighter during WWII. This was later followed by the U2 and Blackbird spy planes, the F117 Nighthawk, and the F22 Raptor. The B-2 Stealth bomber and the space shuttles were assembled at Plant 42.
Now hanging in the Smithsonian Museum, as if in perpetual flight, is the bright orange ‘Glamorous Glennis’. This is the Bell-X1 rocket plane in which Chuck Yeager, named after his wife, was first to be confirmed to have broken the sound barrier—which he recorded as having occurred at an altitude of 42,000 feet. This was a top secret at the time in 1947 as the question of what would happen to a plane and pilot on breaking the sound barrier (Mach 1 = 700 mph at that height) had been the subject of serious theorising. ‘Grandma could be up there sipping lemonade.’ Chuck Yeager later said. Now a grandfather and a retired Major General, at the age of 86 he broke the sound barrier again in 2009 flying an F16—making him the world’s fastest octogenarian.
Supper with Louisa and Francis
Wondering what to talk about was never a concern for friends invited round for a spot of supper with Louisa and Francis Galton at 42 Rutland Gate in London’s well-heeled South Kensington. Their host was possibly able to deploy the widest range of interesting dinner party conversations ever known.
Nervous and wanting to make a cautious start? Try the conversational slow ball of weather. You would immediately know the the correct door had been knocked. Francis Galton was first person ever to draw a weather map, with his first efforts appearing in The Times newspaper of London and running ever since.
How about a round of holiday one-upmanship? Ever polite Francis, if asked, could match anyone. In 1839 as an adventuresome 17 year old he travelled alone to Constantinople (Istanbul) followed by a gap year thing travelling up the Nile. His appetite for foreign food whetted he then undertook serious exploration being the first European to reach remotest Ovamboland—in the area of Namibia and Angola of today.
Thinking of writing a book? Francis could probably help. After his African adventures he became a celebrity author by writing a book called Art of Travel—still in print. Akin to Ray Mears and Bear Grylls as Victorians fancying something different, the first page squishes silly fears of possible death by coolly observing that natives rarely murder newcomers. Everything else you might need to know included the knack of lighting a pipe in a hurricane (do it under your horse); keeping your clothes dry in a downpour (take them off, fold them up, and sit on them); and in case the indigenes hadn’t read the bit about newcomers, how to sleep with your gun (stock between head and arm, barrel between legs).
A divertissement while the soup course is cleared? Ask about his interest in a medical career. Francis felt that to best understand the various drugs and medicines he would try them all, in alphabetical order. Surviving through A and B, he was most parts of the way through C when he picked up a bottle of Croton Oil. This afflicted him with such an episode of diarrhoea that further drug experimentation was placed on permanent hold. (The extreme efficacy of Croton Oil can be gauged when it is learned that the US Navy added it to pure alcohol torpedo fuel to keep sailors from drinking it during WW II). And there was also the interesting day in Ovamboland when, purely for scientific interest of course, he utilised his sextant to measure the vital statistics of a Khoikhoi lady without needing to make her acquaintance.
Any gossip? This was an immediate conversation-starter as Francis Galton was the ultimate people person. Having been originally stimulated by the great debate about evolution created by Darwin—who being a half-cousin to Galton could conceivably have been facing you over the carrots—he measured everything measurable about thousands of people; eyesight, stride, reactions, fingerprints, weight, height and more. By-products of this effort were his invention of fingerprinting for forensic purposes and new ideas now known as statistics (James Surowiecki’s excellent book The Wisdom of Crowds opens with the story of Francis Galton’s calculation that the average of all the entries in a guess-the-weight-of-the-ox competit
ion was almost exactly the beast’s true heft).
Sex, religion, or politics? Emboldened by the wine, you might fancy some controversy with the trifle. Francis Galton had undertaken infinitesimally detailed study into the family relationships amongst groups of high-achievers in areas of achievement as different as English High Court judges (205 years’ worth) and north-country wrestlers and even poets. Nature not nurture was the stronger he wrote in Hereditary Genius, developing the idea of eugenics or the self-direction of human evolution as a smart means of speeding Darwin’s far-too-slow natural selection. He also suggested, years ahead of other observers that the world’s population should be deliberately controlled to match the resources of the planet.
Measuring the success of a dinner party? After the ‘good-nights’ and clip-clopping of horses away from Rutland Gate the evening may not have quite been over for the brain of Francis Galton (he became Sir Francis just before his death). There is an account that he had a means of measuring the pressure applied under the legs of the chairs around his dining-table, as he had a theory that people who were mutually attracted tended to lean towards each other, from which data he was able to keep a score on just who had been getting along a little too well with whom that evening.