Dieu et mon droit

"In a revolution, as in a novel. the most difficult part to invent is the end."

                                                                                        Alexis de Tocqueville.

A monarchy is these days and indeed any days a ridiculous institution, the head of state chosen by who puts his squawky head first into the world from between the legs of the reigning monarch's consort. We live in unusual times in that the next one in line came direct from the monarch's crotch but no mind, it's bonkers, you know it, I know it and even they know it. 

But that is just the beginning, as it were, for once monarchised the individual has no point in life other than to be a dumb rubber stamp for the Government. There are, of course compensations, the pay is good, the lodgings palatial and the fawning lackeys infinite. And all you have to do is roll up once a year in a horse and cart, read a short speech, written for you (on goat skin parchment) declare Parliament open for business and then bugger orf for another year. 

But as someone once said no sane man can be anything but ashamed of the government he lives under so it is mightily demeaning for us to continue this constitutional failure of the English Revolution (1649 and all that ...) year after year. But what to replace it with? Hmm? An elected president, I hear you say. But what powers would such a person have? Queenie has been around now for over 60 years but she can't say boo to a goose without the Government telling her to. An elected person would clearly have some mandated power simply by being elected. This would, like the fabled gun on a West End stage, have to be used at some point and then comes constitutional mess. We would not want to end like our colonial cousins with their elected monarch and spend three out of every four years arraigning (Thank you Freud; I meant to write 'arranging' but we'll let it stand as it is) his successor clearly those founding fathers hadn't thought this through. But that is not our concern.

Well then let us have a president with only "meet and greet" functions, a puppet (or muppet) to call Head of State, someone to wheel out for special ...

So who would want the job and what qualifications are needed? Would a sane person be fit to appoint to such a meaningless and thankless position surely they would tire and want more, be bored, get diverted. The sort of person who might put themselves forward would be instantly suspect. No, much rather pick some slow witted person, someone who has shown no great intelligence, a person who has perhaps been the product of generations of breeding and selection, a special someone for the purpose (horses for courses, as they say). Where would we find such a fellow ... where indeed? I think I know just the man.

The picture is the top of the old county court house which I would say was on London Road but I see is now officially on St James' Road but, never mind, both roads are in King's Lynn. That the English monarch should have a French motto comes as no surprise to us poor bloody English and if Les Français should tire of Monsieur le President I'm sure Lizzie would be only too glad to take over the reigns; I believe they still secretly lay claim to bits (if not the tout ensemble) of La Patrie. Bonkers!

The Public Library, King's Lynn

One thing I have learned in all my years is that when you come across a library dating from the turn of the last century looking overly ornate, beyond the reach of any ordinary town council's budget, then it's a good bet that Andrew Carnegie's vast wealth lies behind it somewhere. Here, on London Road, is a fine thing opened in 1905 by the very man himself (see below). It's still the library of this town though I've read that modernity in the form of WiFi and digital computery things are available as well as old-style books.

The library is reputed to be haunted by a monk no doubt wandering in from the old Greyfriars monastery just behind.

Somewhere in that impressive crowd stands Mr Carnegie so I'm told. There's a tale, little more than scuttlebutt, that he built this particular library to get a knighthood as it's close to Sandringham and the then king's winter retreat. Firstly I wouldn't like to walk all the way from Sandringham to take out a book and second I can't see Mr C being impressed by mere baubles. (This picture courtesy of the generosity of the internet)

There's a Carnegie library in Hull, here, that also opened in 1905 a busy year for Mr C as he tried to give away all the wealth he had accrued. Now I come to think abut it there was a Carnegie library in my old home town, Hartlepool.

The South Gate, King's Lynn

I suppose in a rational ordered world this vestige of medieval urban protection would have been cleared away and become nothing but an entry in obscure historical chronicles. A wee sign informs us that this was put up in the early 15th century clearly to bottleneck the flow of carts and horses causing tailbacks over the river Nar and along Friars Street as toll charges were levied and collected on traffic. The sign mentions that the gatekeeper was also "keeper of the muckhills" but thankfully does not elaborate on what that might mean ... The small doors on either side show where pedestrians had had enough and were allowed through. Later on London Road was developed and was as you see it is twice as wide as the gate. So there it stands covering half a road serving no useful purpose other than being a delight to the eye, an oddity in the blandness of modern life.

The gate is open to visitors during the warmer months but not on a chilly  Sunday afternoon in February.

The stone clad frontage is to impress visitors, it's really a brick building similar to the North Bar in Beverley.

The South Gate was the site of the town's gallows where poor unfortunates were hanged if they weren't being roasted in Tuesday Market... Margot suggested these orbs might be the restless souls of the condemned hovering about the place, I think it's just a stinky picture ...

Here's the wee sign I mentioned earlier.

The building is, of course, Grade 1 listed. Here's more by folk who know what they are talking about.

Frederick Savage

One thing that I did not see at the Mart was a roundabout with horses, folk are more interested in being put at the end of a vertical centrifuge and spun up above the chiminey tops than going round and round and up and down on wooden horses accompanied by steam powered organ music. 

Times and fashions change but once upon time steam powered galloping horses, invented by this guy, Frederick Savage, were all the rage. I read that showmen could make close on a hundred pounds a day from penny rides on one of these machines; that's old pennies, 240 to the pound. He sold his contraptions around the world spreading dizzy fun while making a small fortune.

Frederick Savage became mayor of Lynn three times (a veritable Dick Whittington) and died in 1897. This statue was erected in 1892 paid for by showmen and the people of Lynn. He was clearly much liked as a banquet was held in his honour.

After his death the works nearly went under and were only saved by being bought up by local firms. Steam engines were not the way of the future, at least not for farm work or fair grounds. The last Savage roundabout I saw was at Hull Fair several years ago, I don't think any are left in active service, they are all museum pieces. The factory in Lynn where Savage made his machines is now a tame arcade of shops. 

This statue has him in mayoral ceremonial garb giving a priestly benefaction to all who pass. It stands, as it always has done, on London Road close to the South Gate.

By way of postscript; while going through the papers of Margot's late mother I found that her house, off Loke Road a stone's throw from the old Savage works, was built on land sold off by Mr Savage's widow in 1898.