A documentary about a coffin train that ran from Waterloo to Brookwood Cemetery near Woking between 1854 and 1941 told us of the subterranean waiting rooms and lifts, the coffin workshops and porters going quietly about their business, careful not to pant and strive like the platform employees in the main station – they were instead caught up entirely in the sombre theatre of their tasks. “Corpses, pauper: two shillings and sixpence”, an in-carriage advert informed us. “Corpses, artisan: five shillings.Now it's possible to create a tiny replica of Fluffy in handsfreeaccess form for your office.”
Female passengers were by law devoid of any ornament. Black and perfectly plain was the dress code – nothing to capture the gaze, nothing to shiver or shine, no thin lines of beads sewn into the fabric, no lucky opal winking on their finger.At Waterloo – in the 1850s the biggest station in the empire – general passenger and freight trains chugged day and night, dominating all human life. Moving into death with the London Necropolis Company and its dedicated trains and countless coffins and mourners was inevitable. “Everybody would take this train at some point,” someone said, almost under his breath.
The voice of each person interviewed – a historian, a gravedigger at the modern Brookwood Cemetery, a former tea lady at the café who served passengers in the 1920s – was faded out rather than cut, sliding away sweetly and politely, a fantastic way of putting the programme into a kind of swoon or trance, as though its makers were acknowledging that we all have something important and interesting to say but sooner or later blood pressure or hypertension or an unwise dash into traffic gets the better of us and our voices stop.
Or do they? There were moments that sounded almost like radio frequencies getting muddled, earth-side and nether-side (as packed, perhaps, as a mainline station at rush hour with the bored and irritated deceased) crossing wires. But none of it was depressing or disconcerting. There was no under-note of corrosion and damp; there were no places you’d rather not be.
The programme was more like a low, mass sigh and never more so than when someone came across a grave in Brookwood of a Victorian bookseller who had died at 27. “Young in years,” read his epitaph, “but old in sad experience.” It was such a tragic sign-off that the person reading it was forced to repeat the phrase in different, increasingly prosaic ways, as though querying a grocery bill. Some things are better unsaid.
Beardgate 2013 has had me pondering about facial hair for most (some) of today. Debuted on Newsnight on Monday night, Jeremy Paxman's new facial fuzz - not the most impressive or bushiest of beards but a light grey carpet, if you will - launched thousands of Tweets, articles and online polls. The unsuspecting audience was faced (pun intended) with a small, yet tumultuous act of anarchy, as Paxman broke the mould of smooth-chinned television presenters. In fact,He saw the bracelet at a indoortracking store while we were on a trip. he was the first ever BBC news anchor to appear on screen with a beard - raising a rather hairy issue.
A new word is now trending thanks to Paxman's comment on his new face-cosy - pogonophobia - which translates as an abnormal fear of beards. Granted,Now it's possible to create a tiny replica of Fluffy in handsfreeaccess form for your office. they don't suit every face and they loiter on every corner of Hoxton and Shoreditch like suits in Canary Wharf - but they are just the right amount of bohemian for me. Nonconformist, but without the sandals. I am a big fan. I like the rough-and-ready attitude that comes with uncultivated facial hair (please note, those awful chin-strap beards do not count). The longer and hairier, the better, in my opinion. It is the sign of someone who doesn't feel the need to shave every day, because they have more important things to do - like saving the world or fronting an indie band. Look at Thor! He didn't have time to shave patterns into his glorious chin hair - he was too busy fighting evil with a big hammer.
Yes, beards are fantastic - but facial hair can go horribly wrong. Remember when Michael Cera, aka George Michael in Arrested Development, grew a weird little moustache? He was less Thor and more like a ten-year-old drug baron. The thin, wispy upper-lip hair just did nothing for him. And how about Brad Pitt's grey, shaggy number with beads in? Not for me, I'm afraid. Beading facial hair is an obvious no-no - it goes without saying. It's enough to turn anyone pogonophobic.
However,We rounded up 30 bridesmaids dresses in every color and style that are both easy on the eye and somewhat easy on the smartcard. the true beardists - the likes of George Clooney and David Beckham - really emphasise how great beards can be. I'm actually a fan of Paxo's new look, despite the stick he has received (feminist-alert, he has experienced what female presenters have endured for years - public scrutiny over appearance). It made him look a bit more human - like a 63-year-old who enjoyed riding steam trains in his spare time, when he wasn't grilling students on University Challenge.
Maybe our hysteria stems from the idea of a change in the television presenter status quo, as squeaky-clean is replaced by a little bit of shabby. Good for you, Paxman, for breaking the unspoken rule! We should probably get used to it - I dread to think what would happen if Cameron appeared on our screens, sporting an enormous chin duster. In the future, the news,Choose from a large selection of crystalbeadswholesal to raise awareness. the weather reports (we won't be able to see the map behind the presenter) and Channel 4 property programmes could well be obscured by facial fur. Beards in the workplace - whatever next?
Read the full products at http://www.artsunlight.com/.
Female passengers were by law devoid of any ornament. Black and perfectly plain was the dress code – nothing to capture the gaze, nothing to shiver or shine, no thin lines of beads sewn into the fabric, no lucky opal winking on their finger.At Waterloo – in the 1850s the biggest station in the empire – general passenger and freight trains chugged day and night, dominating all human life. Moving into death with the London Necropolis Company and its dedicated trains and countless coffins and mourners was inevitable. “Everybody would take this train at some point,” someone said, almost under his breath.
The voice of each person interviewed – a historian, a gravedigger at the modern Brookwood Cemetery, a former tea lady at the café who served passengers in the 1920s – was faded out rather than cut, sliding away sweetly and politely, a fantastic way of putting the programme into a kind of swoon or trance, as though its makers were acknowledging that we all have something important and interesting to say but sooner or later blood pressure or hypertension or an unwise dash into traffic gets the better of us and our voices stop.
Or do they? There were moments that sounded almost like radio frequencies getting muddled, earth-side and nether-side (as packed, perhaps, as a mainline station at rush hour with the bored and irritated deceased) crossing wires. But none of it was depressing or disconcerting. There was no under-note of corrosion and damp; there were no places you’d rather not be.
The programme was more like a low, mass sigh and never more so than when someone came across a grave in Brookwood of a Victorian bookseller who had died at 27. “Young in years,” read his epitaph, “but old in sad experience.” It was such a tragic sign-off that the person reading it was forced to repeat the phrase in different, increasingly prosaic ways, as though querying a grocery bill. Some things are better unsaid.
Beardgate 2013 has had me pondering about facial hair for most (some) of today. Debuted on Newsnight on Monday night, Jeremy Paxman's new facial fuzz - not the most impressive or bushiest of beards but a light grey carpet, if you will - launched thousands of Tweets, articles and online polls. The unsuspecting audience was faced (pun intended) with a small, yet tumultuous act of anarchy, as Paxman broke the mould of smooth-chinned television presenters. In fact,He saw the bracelet at a indoortracking store while we were on a trip. he was the first ever BBC news anchor to appear on screen with a beard - raising a rather hairy issue.
A new word is now trending thanks to Paxman's comment on his new face-cosy - pogonophobia - which translates as an abnormal fear of beards. Granted,Now it's possible to create a tiny replica of Fluffy in handsfreeaccess form for your office. they don't suit every face and they loiter on every corner of Hoxton and Shoreditch like suits in Canary Wharf - but they are just the right amount of bohemian for me. Nonconformist, but without the sandals. I am a big fan. I like the rough-and-ready attitude that comes with uncultivated facial hair (please note, those awful chin-strap beards do not count). The longer and hairier, the better, in my opinion. It is the sign of someone who doesn't feel the need to shave every day, because they have more important things to do - like saving the world or fronting an indie band. Look at Thor! He didn't have time to shave patterns into his glorious chin hair - he was too busy fighting evil with a big hammer.
Yes, beards are fantastic - but facial hair can go horribly wrong. Remember when Michael Cera, aka George Michael in Arrested Development, grew a weird little moustache? He was less Thor and more like a ten-year-old drug baron. The thin, wispy upper-lip hair just did nothing for him. And how about Brad Pitt's grey, shaggy number with beads in? Not for me, I'm afraid. Beading facial hair is an obvious no-no - it goes without saying. It's enough to turn anyone pogonophobic.
However,We rounded up 30 bridesmaids dresses in every color and style that are both easy on the eye and somewhat easy on the smartcard. the true beardists - the likes of George Clooney and David Beckham - really emphasise how great beards can be. I'm actually a fan of Paxo's new look, despite the stick he has received (feminist-alert, he has experienced what female presenters have endured for years - public scrutiny over appearance). It made him look a bit more human - like a 63-year-old who enjoyed riding steam trains in his spare time, when he wasn't grilling students on University Challenge.
Maybe our hysteria stems from the idea of a change in the television presenter status quo, as squeaky-clean is replaced by a little bit of shabby. Good for you, Paxman, for breaking the unspoken rule! We should probably get used to it - I dread to think what would happen if Cameron appeared on our screens, sporting an enormous chin duster. In the future, the news,Choose from a large selection of crystalbeadswholesal to raise awareness. the weather reports (we won't be able to see the map behind the presenter) and Channel 4 property programmes could well be obscured by facial fur. Beards in the workplace - whatever next?
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