What's Up Me Old China?

The shocking news has been revealed that the great ceramic glass conglomerate Wedgewood Waterford, also makers of Royal Doulton, is under the hands of receivers. Apparently around 2,700 jobs are risk if the whole box and dice goes under, but
"Politicians on both sides of the Irish Sea warned that the collapse of the company had severe implications for communities where china and glass have been manufactured for generations. The mayor of Waterford said it would be a "national disaster" for Ireland if production at the crystal factory ceased."
These Iconic brands and the centuries of fine artisanship can't be lost in a pile of debts and cheap glassware from the developing world can they?

Old Josiah Wedgewood (pictured) started knocking out pottery in 1759 and Waterford crystal kicked off in 1783, such history predates moments in time like The French Revolution, The First Irish Rebellion and the invasion of Australia by the British Fleet which not surprisingly was carrying Irish Rebels and other poor, wretched refuse they couldn't send to America since they got kicked out in the War of Independance, somewhere in there as well was the creation of the first batch of Guinness Ale, that surely ranks as one of THE defining points in the 18th century, actually some historians would tell you that in fact the Irish Rebellion was a Guinness fuelled pub fight that got a bit serious, hey don't quote me but Donnybrook is a suburb of Dublin, so the English Lords should have expected a fight one day.

Anyway, I didn't establish a great connection to Wedgewood until I met my wife, who "embraced the temporary madness" (her words), when she started buying Wedgewood dinner sets and canteens of cutlery (yes they make them as well) and I really got a taste of the finer things in life or at least I got what good plates and knives were all about.
Another memory from my childhood was my Nanna's collection of Royal Doulton figurines and her particular love of the Persian poet Omar Khayyam, who looked really profound sitting around as a 6-inch porcelain.

What might he have said about this great modern tragedy, perhaps something like,
"For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay,
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd, Gently, Brother, gently, pray!'

The Yanks have just pitched a Waterford Crystal ball — 12 feet in diameter, weighing nearly 12,000 pounds, and covered with 2,668 Waterford Crystal triangles, in Times Square, surely they couldn't let such an institution as this fall prey to market conditions that they themselves created, oh no, Omar forbid!

So stand by, and picture this, production of quality china going back to the Chinese ... who'd have thought that possible after the Opium Wars, not this student of history, but then "Top Gun" Tom has just released another woeful Nazi biopic, so anything is possible in this current climate.

From the High Country to the Craic in the Glass

From the High Country to the Craic in the Glass

Hello one, hello all,

I see in the crystal that everyone is well; the pint glass never lies [especially when it's masquerading as a row of empty soldiers].

Hasn't the world changed recently?
Is it just me or is there irony in the fact that Bushy keeps using God as his witness?

Let me get this one in early, Go you Bloody Knights, kicked the arse of those slimy eels all over the place and perhaps it's time that they dedicated the BHP site to the men of steel, on my return I'd like to be having a beer on top of the number 4 blast furnace with salubrious views of the city and hop on the roller coaster at the adjoining Knight world amusement park where each and every player from the past is dedicated on the walk of fame with their own blackies anvil. End exclamation.

Got myself out of the madness of festival city Edinburgh and up to the highlands of Scotland, a sightly neck of the woods with plenty a mount and a Loch.
Stopped in on some travelling acquaintances and by chance the last Highland games fling of the season was on at the time. Oh to see those big blokes throwing stuff around a paddock, the weather a mix of bright sunshine overcoming rain clouds, a wee dram of whiskey to warm the intestines and the eerie din of the pipes as they kick in as the afternoons soundtrack.
The biggest day of the towns year and long night of celebration leading into the next day when I took on the local Ben at days dawning just see the look on the towns face.
No sign of the Monster at Loch Ness but everyone knows it's there anyway.

Scotland: where the water meets the mountains and the people you meet in the pubs [Perhaps I can sell this on to Tourism Scotland].
When up Ben Nevis they say is the highest point in the UK and the views never lie up high as you look out over the place and realise that now might be a good time to move on to the Irish craic.

Hopped on a bus, crossed on a boat to Belfast and into to Old Dublin town where the realities of work have hit me again as I do a bit of work on the Festival and contemplate the next move.

Yes, the Guinness is the best it's true, although on top of the Guinness brewery where gods’ water comes straight from the source, the taste of the pint was topped by the view of the town as the sun slowly sets in my mind.

Got on the devils hotline with one of these infernal handsets, so I s'pose that means I'll be around this way for a while, who knows where.
Feel free to drop me one of those insidious text things and be assured of a lumbering but appropriate response.

Take it easy as always,

Love The Wookiee, [preparing his winter coat for the onset of the cold, but for today anyway the town is bathed in sunlight.]