For he's still a brolly good fellow

For part two of my umbrella-themed post we pick up from where we left off in part one with a further fictional proponent of umbrella self-defence, something of a 21st century John Steed in many respects and another welcome practitioner of Bartitsu-inspired moves in film.

This is the character of Harry Hart (Codename: Galahad) from the Kingsman series of films.  A slightly more updated take on the gentleman spy genre it nevertheless successfully (in my view) mixes the traditional and modern elements and nowhere is that better illustrated than in the Kingsmen's (and Harry Hart's in particular) dapper style, tailor's shop base of operations and - yes, you've guessed it - wielding of a tightly-furled umbrella.  Although quite adept at belabouring gobby villains and megalomaniacs' henchmen with his trusty gamp Galahad's example also has a few more novel tricks up its shaft compared to Steed's hidden rapier, including an electric-shock chain built into the ferrule, the ability to fire both live or rubber bullets and - the pièce de résistance - a bullet-proof canopy. 



While the cartoon violence and strong language of the Kingsman films may not appeal to everyone's taste I think it is more than offset by the style and panache displayed in both films (although I do prefer the first one over The Golden Circle) and the successfull homage to the '60s spy films and TV series (including The Avengers) that director Matthew Vaughn has gone on record as having been his intention.  Fellow fans of the films - and especially of the well-dressed "gentleman spy" æsthetic and "manners maketh man" ethos - will be pleased to know that a third and final sequel featuring Colin Firth's and Taron Egerton's characters is in the works.  Even more exciting, though, is the forthcoming prequel The King's Man, set around the First World War and showing the origins of the Kingsman Secret Service.  Originally due for release back in February, covid-19 put the kybosh on that and it is now scheduled to be in cinemas early next year (provided things improve, of course).  You'll remember when I apologised for raking up the 1998 Avengers film in my previous post by saying that if you still liked the idea of Ralph Fiennes in three-piece suit, bowler hat and topped off with an umbrella then to hold that thought?  Well here he is again, nearly 25 years later (and looking quite at home in a variety of dashing ensembles) taking over the Colin Firth role as one of the founding Kingsmen in what is a very exciting-looking trailer (complete with a couple of umbrella action sequences).  Personally this is one I can hardly wait for and if it makes it to the cinema (it's already been postponed twice, so I'm not holding my breath) I'll be going, coronavirus or not.



Quite obviously an electrocuting, bullet-proof ballistic brolly would be even more frowned upon by the authorities than a swordstick one (even if it would be equally desirable); of course in this day and age of tie -in movie merchandise it is possible to get an "official" Kingsman umbrella from the likes of Mr Porter and even Briggs themselves, although for the price one would expect them to have all of the aforementioned functionality (sadly they don't).  Stick to your standard gamp and keep practising your Bartitsu, is all I can suggest.

Major Digby Tatham-Warter (left) and his umbrella-based exploits immortalised
(as Major Harry Carlyle) in A Bridge Too Far.

One extraordinary chap who clearly thought he had a bullet-proof umbrella was the distinguished Second World War British Army officer Major Digby Tatham-Warter, whose wartime service saw him first taking part in the Western Desert campaign before volunteering for the Parachute Regiment, a decision that would lead him to take part in one of the most famous engagements of the war - Operation Market Garden, or the Battle of Arnhem.  Clearly a top fellow and splendidly eccentric, Tatham-Warter would brandish a hunting bugle during the battle and trained his troops to recognise its various calls (as had been common military practice during the Napoleonic Wars) since he was - rightly as it turned out - worried about the unreliability of the battalion's field radios.  More pertinently to this article, however, he also carried an umbrella with him as he frequently had difficulty remembering the various passwords he was supposed to use and reasoned that any Allied unit would recognise that "only a bloody fool of an Englishman" would bring a brolly into an active war zone.  In the event it did also turn out to have a practical military application - during one engagement Tatham-Warter was able to take out a German armoured car with his parapluie by the simple expedient of shoving it through the vehicle's viewing slit and incapacitating the driver!

As the Battle of Arnhem raged on, Tatham-Warter could continually be seen moving nonchalantly among his men - sometimes in the face of fierce mortar and sniper fire - while still holding his trusty umbrella.  At one point he led his men in a bayonet charge across Arnhem Bridge against advancing German infantry - brolly in one hand, pistol in the other and wearing a bowler hat that he had contrived to obtain from somewhere.  Steed in battle, more or less!   Still later, he observed the company chaplain trapped by enemy mortar fire while trying to get to some injured soldiers.  Managing to make it to the chaplain's position, Tatham-Warter uttered the immortal line "Don't worry, I've got an umbrella" and proceeded to successfully escort the chaplain back across the street under the protection of its canopy.  Upon returning to the front line while holding the still open gamp, the remark from fellow officer Lieutenant Pat Barnett that "that thing won't do you much good" drew from Tatham-Warter the equally brilliant response - "Oh my goodness Pat, but what if it rains?".



Tatham-Warter's exploits served as the inspiration for the fictional character of Major Harry Carlyle in A Bridge Too Far, Richard Attenborough's famous 1977 retelling of the Battle of Arnhem.  In the film Carlyle dies but, perhaps [un]surprisingly, Tatham-Warter survived to be taken prisoner.  He promptly escaped (naturally!) and for a time worked with the Dutch Resistance before eventually returning to England.  He is certainly fully deserving of - and will one day get - a blog post in his own right but for now we can simply marvel at his brolly-based shenanigans in the face of incredible odds.

Another great bumbershoot-brandishing military eccentric who will also one day get the full Eclectic Ephemera treatment is Lieutenant-Colonel Alfred Daniel Wintle MC (left), whose service covered both world wars (and the period in between - which, to give you some idea of the man, he described as "intensely boring") with some quite amazing - and amusing - incidents occurring throughout his life.  A staunch believer in "England and the English way of life" Wintle felt that the umbrella was one of the cornerstones of an English gentleman, a conviction that was established at the tender age of seven when an aunt bought him his first brolly - as he relates in his autobiography The Last Englishman:

"my Aunt Carrie... gave me my first umbrella, purchased at the Army and Navy Stores.  This was to be, for many years, the apple of my eye.  It made me feel I was well on my way to becoming a complete English gentleman.

I could hardly bear to be parted from my umbrella.  I would go off at odd intervals of the day to admire it in the hall-stand and I used to take it to bed with me every night for years.  The feel of the leather handle beside me as I fell asleep gave me the comforting sensation that I was already one of the... breed of Englishmen"

If you can find a copy, GET IT - it is one of the best
autobiographies I have ever read but sadly also one
of the rarest, only published once in 1968.

Although Wintle never went so far as to take an umbrella into battle his firm attachment and strong opinion never left him.  He would go on to say:

"The Englishman... always takes his umbrella with him, anyway, for the good and simple reason that no gentleman ever leaves the house without it."

Mind you, he was also resolute on another point - "no true gentleman ever unfurls his umbrella".  To Wintle, the brolly was a status symbol - the mark of a real English gent - and if it meant getting thoroughly soaked to prove it then so be it.  So convinced was he of this theory that, in later years, before tightly furling it up he would insert a note into the canopy of his gamp that read "This umbrella was stolen from Colonel A. D. Wintle" presumably on the basis that any un-English malefactor who dared to pinch his brolly would be instantly undone upon opening it and so promptly nabbed by the constabulary.

While I wouldn't go so far as to never unfurl my umbrella (and therefore, sadly, in the eyes of Colonel Wintle am not a true Englishman) I would at least extol his instruction to take one with you wherever you go, the weather in this country being so unpredictable (especially at this time of year) and the forecasts generally useless (I find looking out of the window of a morn far more instructive).  Nor would I recommend it as your sole form of armament should you ever find yourself facing off against a hostile tank, although as Major Tatham-Warter proved it couldn't hurt.  If you can take anything away from these posts, be inspired by these chaps both fictional and - however unbelievably - genuine and carry your umbrella with pride whatever the weather.

Finally, to finish on a still lighter note - at the end of the previous post I described Steed's actions with the brolly as "umbrella jousting".  I knew I had heard the term somewhere before and it afterwards came back to me.  It is of course the sport invented by those sterling coves over at The Chap magazine as part of their annual Chap Olympiad and the perfect way to end this post.  Surely it will only be a matter of time before the International Olympic Committee see sense and include umbrella jousting in future Games.  Could we see well-dressed participants with tightly-furled brollies and reinforced newspapers charging each other on bicycles in time for Tokyo, perhaps?  The Japanese would love it!  I leave you with footage of last year's event and let you make up your own mind...

Ipswich library staff record audiobook for 102-year-old

source - ITV Anglia

Ipswich library staff record audiobook for 102-year-old

A touching news item from East Anglia, this, featuring as it does a sterling effort on the part of Ipswich librarians to track down and record to CD a 1920s novel for a local centenarian who remembered her father reading it to her as a child.  I'm sure we have all at one time or another used our local library to try to obtain a rare or out-of-print book but the thoughtfulness of the staff at Ipswich library is above and beyond anything one would normally expect and I can well understand the pride felt by the library's senior management.

Ipswich library staff record audiobook for 102-year-old member during lockdown

source - Amazon

Once again there are multiple facets to this story that all make for happy reading - the kindness and sense of community that came out in the early days of lockdown which this typifies (and which I'm sure we all hoped would continue once the crisis abated); the thought and effort put in by the librarians to actually go and buy the book with their own money, then to take the time to read it aloud and record it on to discs; the care and concern they obviously feel towards this valued member of the community and the recognition of the importance of this book to her and the memories it engenders; the obvious joy of reading that was imbued in to this 102-year-old lady at a young age by her father, which has not waned in nearly a century; the importance to the human spirit of books and of reading in general.  Not to mention that a previously-forgotten novel from the 1920s is now potentially back on the shelves of Ipswich library, at least, hopefully for a new and appreciative audience to discover and enjoy.  Then there is the wider aspect of this story - Suffolk Libraries' advice and support network for older and more vulnerable residents, which is also to be applauded as a perfect example of the value of libraries to the local community.

It's also lovely to note that as well as recording the audiobook the library staff also purchased the DVD of the 1950 film adaptation for Mrs Bugg to watch.



On a more personal note this article reminded me of my own lockdown project that I have been working on, as well as putting me in mind of one or two lesser experiences with my own library service.

To start with the lockdown project - seven years ago now(!) I made tell of picking up a book at a local vintage fair, which I regarded (and still do) as a splendid period find.  It was The Test Match Surprise (subtitled A Romance of the Cricket Field), ostensibly written by the famous early 20th century cricketer Jack Hobbs (in actuality ghost-written by an unknown author, although Hobbs may have had a hand in the more cricket-oriented chapters).  Anyway, I have enjoyed reading it many a time since then and one day during lockdown having re-read it again it occurred to me what a charming story it was (albeit of its time like Portrait of Clare) and that in many respects it was not unlike a Wildean plot.  With this in mind the thought came to me that it could possibly be converted into a four-act play so I began transcribing it on to my computer.  Well I've completed that task but since then I have received various other suggestions as to adaptations - radio play, four-person comedy version in the mould of The 39 Steps and, as the Suffolk librarians have done, a simple audiobook.  Faced with this variety of sources I'm sorry to say things have stalled a little but I still hope to have this own out-of-print book of mine - published in 1926, only one year before Portrait of Clare - adapted into one of the above formats, if only for my personal enjoyment, perhaps before the year is out.

The two instances of my local library service helping me track down copies of rare books are not in the same league as Mrs Bugg's but nevertheless still form happy memories.

Ever since I first saw the B.B.C. adaptation in 1995 I was on the lookout for a copy of 1930s racing driver Sir Henry 'Tim' Birkin's autobiography Full Throttle.  Then in the early 2000s I read an article about Birkin in the Autocar magazine and spurred on by this I eventually managed to get a copy through Essex Libraries' inter-loan scheme (it originally coming from Maidstone, Kent).  Back then I was working at London's South Bank and I spent many a happy hour reading this copy by the riverside by Blackfriars.  Afterwards I desperately wanted a copy for myself, but it had been out of print since the early '60s and I couldn’t find another one anywhere.  More out of hope than anything else I dropped a brief e-mail to the chaps at Autocar asking them from where they got their copy on which they based their article, expecting at best a list of bookshops to try my luck at.  Imagine my surprise and delight when the following week the journalist in question used part of his column to plead for a copy for me!  Even more wonderfully, a splendid old boy who lived literally just around the corner from me had 1935 edition in remarkably good condition, plus W.O. Bentley's autobiography, both of which he said he would let me have for free.  I popped round there and spent the best part of half an hour, spellbound, chatting to him, as it turned out that he used to be a marshal at lots of the major European motor races and had seen many of the greats - Fangio, Moss, Surtees - actually racing!

In an almost carbon copy of the above, the autobiography of forgotten army officer and eccentric Lt.-Col. A.D. Wintle MC was also adapted as part of the same three-part B.B.C. series (titled Heroes & Villains) and it was through this that I first became aware of this unique individual and the story of his remarkable life.  Following this I was able to locate a copy of The Last Englishman in Southend Library's "stack" (i.e. store unit) and for several years would request it every time I felt in need of reading it until one day, a few years ago, I was distraught to discover that it was no longer available!  Clearly it had been disposed of (or possibly, due to its rarity value, misappropriated), much to my chagrin.  Since then I was constantly on the lookout for a copy - mainly on eBay, where the prices more or less confirmed my suspicions that the library copy had either been sold or snaffled by someone who realised its value.  Then just a few months ago one came up on the aforementioned auction site and my bid - far less than I'd seen any other copy go for - was the winner!  So once again after several years of searching I was finally able to add another long sought-after book to my collection and in both cases it has been thanks in various degrees to my local library service (although nowhere near the same league as Ipswich's).

At the risk of repeating myself, then, these experiences and the wonderful story that forms the crux of this post just goes to show the overwhelming importance of libraries to society in general.  I take my hat off to the staff of Ipswich library and hope that Mrs Bugg enjoys listening again and reminiscing to Portrait of Clare.

***What has been your experience of your local library service?  Is there a book you would like to see turned into an audiobook or similar?  Let me know in the comments below!***