The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Hello everbody,

This week’s instalment starts on a very reflective note when Pip the narrator tells us how the Pip in the story starts noticing that his great expectations have not exactly made life happier for him as they have cast a shadow over his relations with Joe and Biddy. What is more, Pip has started running up debts in the confidence in his supplies, and his bad example has also led his friend Herbert into spending more money than he could actually afford to do so that we can even venture to say that maybe, Herbert would even be better off had he never known Pip.

We learn that Pip and Herbert joined the Finches of the Grove, a club devoted to dissipation, whose members – Bentley Drummle being one of them – meet in Covent Garden, which was quite a seedy place at the time of the novel. The narrator summarizes his life at that time very aptly in these words:

”We spent as much money as we could, and got as little for it as people could make up their minds to give us. We were always more or less miserable, and most of our acquaintance were in the same condition. There was a gay fiction among us that we were constantly enjoying ourselves, and a skeleton truth that we never did. To the best of my belief, our case was in the last aspect a rather common one.”

Have we not a good hint here to the effect that money as such is no key to happiness? You may spend it but not feel one bit the more satisfied afterwards. He also says that but for their genuine friendship, in their dissipation, in that hangover mood after their revels, they might have come to thoroughly hate each other, and he also gives a humorous account of how they usually sit together, once in a while, to get an overview of their debts by doing sums and how this sobre occupation somehow soothes them:

”Each of us would then refer to a confused heap of papers at his side, which had been thrown into drawers, worn into holes in pockets, half burnt in lighting candles, stuck for weeks into the looking-glass, and otherwise damaged. The sound of our pens going refreshed us exceedingly, insomuch that I sometimes found it difficult to distinguish between this edifying business proceeding and actually paying the money. In point of meritorious character, the two things seemed about equal.”

Paradoxically, this pretence as to doing serious business not only fails to extricate them from their debts but actually contributes to their running deeper into them because Pip comes up with the custom of “leaving a Margin”. I wonder whether this singular mode of doing business adopted by Pip might not have been familiar to Dickens himself through the example of his own father? Another thing that might have come down from Dickens’s father is Herbert’s serene optimism summarized in gently humorous passages like this:

”Every morning, with an air ever new, Herbert went into the City to look about him. I often paid him a visit in the dark back-room in which he consorted with an ink-jar, a hat-peg, a coal-box, a string-box, an almanac, a desk and stool, and a ruler; and I do not remember that I ever saw him do anything else but look about him. If we all did what we undertake to do, as faithfully as Herbert did, we might live in a Republic of the Virtues.”

It’s remarkable that such an energetic and down-to-earth man like Dickens – when it came to business affairs he knew which side his bread was buttered on – should find it in himself to describe the obvious fecklessness of his heroes with so much leniency. We also learn, however, that Pip seriously thinks about doing something for Herbert – in a way that would not offend his pride and his desire for independence.

The chapter ends when Pip receives a letter from Mr. Trabb, the tailor, to the effect that his sister has died and that he is supposed to be at the funeral.

In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus, he takes the news in a spirit of vengefulness, not really being able to experience gentler feelings with regard to his sister. There is the following passage, however, which again tells us of Pip’s probably becoming more reflective and adult:

”It was fine summer weather again, and, as I walked along, the times when I was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned. But they returned with a gentle tone upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now, the very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would be well for my memory that others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me.”

The narrator now treats us to one of Dickens’s typical funeral scenes, which reminded me of the funeral of old Anthony Chuzzlewit and which shows that a Victorian funeral was a question of social prestige and pomp. First of all, Pip creates the impression that Trabb has taken possession of the Gargery household, like a sheriff does of a debtor’s home, and then we get glimpses of the Hubbles, who are very proud to be part of the funeral procession, which is marvelled at by the townfolks – the only thing they don’t do is cheer – and of Uncle Pumblechook, who also seems to be enjoying himself in a morbid way and does not miss the opportunity to ingratiate himself with Pip. Pip compares the preparations for the funeral with a “preparation to some grim kind of dance”, and we also learn that Joe, who had wanted a more modest and silent ceremony, was talked into all this by Mr. Trabb, who had told him that it would not have been proper to forego all this pomp.

Finally, the funeral is over, and – Peter – we get the following detail:

”And there, my sister was laid quietly in the earth, while the larks sang high above it, and the light wind strewed it with beautiful shadows of clouds and trees.”

Is this not morbidly ironic, considering Joe’s favourite expression?

After the funeral, Pip has a serious talk with Biddy, whom he reproaches with not having let him know about his sister’s death so that he had to learn it from the village tailor. Now, normally I don’t readily side with Pip, but in this case I am fully on his side and cannot understand what excuse Biddy possibly could have had for not writing to him. Biddy also gives Pip the following account of Mrs. Joe’s death:

”’[…] She had been in one of her bad states—though they had got better of late, rather than worse—for four days, when she came out of it in the evening, just at tea-time, and said quite plainly, “Joe.” As she had never said any word for a long while, I ran and fetched in Mr. Gargery from the forge. She made signs to me that she wanted him to sit down close to her, and wanted me to put her arms round his neck. So I put them round his neck, and she laid her head down on his shoulder quite content and satisfied. And so she presently said “Joe” again, and once “Pardon,” and once “Pip.” And so she never lifted her head up any more, and it was just an hour later when we laid it down on her own bed, because we found she was gone.’”

There is a long way between the sugary, overly sentimental death scene of Little Nell and this one here, I would say – and even Pip cannot withhold his tears. What does this tell you about Mrs. Joe? And why did she mention Pip with her last word?

The conversation also tells Pip that Orlick is still stalking Biddy – in fact, he had been doing so when Pip and Biddy started to have their talk, and that Joe has never had a word of reproach for Pip. Nevertheless, Pip and Biddy again fall out with each other, and Pip leaves her convinced of his own moral superiority. He was, on this is another faux-pas, even on the brink of offering her money because she can no longer stay in the Gargery household, together with a widowed man. We learn that she is going to become a schoolmistress on the grounds of her self-acquired learning.

All in all, Pip seems to be mending some of his ways but there is still a lot of arrogance in him.

Tristram wrote: "Hello everbody,

This week’s instalment starts on a very reflective note when Pip the narrator tells us how the Pip in the story starts noticing that his great expectations have not exactly made li..."

Another interesting chapter. To me, there is a distinct shift in the tone of the narration which suggests that the speaker is the mature narrator who is looking back, with both insight and regret, at his earlier life. The sentences "I should have been happier and better if I had never seen Miss Havisham's face, and had risen to manhood content to be partners with Joe in the honest old forge. Many a time of an evening, when I sat alone looking at the fire, I thought, after all, there was no fire like the old forge fire and the kitchen fire at home." Interesting that Pip refers to the forge as "home" in these lines. The repetition of the word "old" in the sentences is instructive and points to a mature voice that has had the space and time to compare more than one place and one style of living.

Tristram, I very much enjoyed your question of how Pip does business by "leaving a Margin." Sounds like a firm plan for ruin, doesn't it? Between Micawber's financial theory of leaving a margin for achieving happiness and avoiding ruin to Pip's plan we have a very good economics course.

I agree that one of the issues that haunted Dickens throughout his life is that of economic stability. Dickens saw what happened when his father ran into debt and suffered the consequences. Novels such as DC and GE have at their core issues of finance, and certainly ACC, MC, LD and ... well, all of his novels really, have money or the lack of it as a central troupe. Dickens's reading tours and especially the excessive strain that Dickens put on himself to complete his second reading tour in America speak clearly to his need to make money at the expense of his own health.

Tristram wrote: "In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus, he takes the ne..."

Tristram

Thank you for highlighting the reference to larks. We have in the chapters under discussion this week two types of birds mentioned, and there is much difference between them.

The Finches of the Grove seem intent on doing the least productive activity at the highest cost possible. Wanton waste, riotous behaviour and undignified actions seem the recipe for success if you are a finch in the great city of London. On the other hand, Dickens presents us in the next chapter a somber, pastoral setting in a graveyard, where now with the death of his sister, Pip's entire family is buried. Here, we read of the larks "who sang high above ... and the light wind strewed it with beautiful shadows of clouds and trees." Thus we have the noisy, dirty city with its riotous behaviour and the Bentley Drummles of the world crashing about contrasted with the rural simplicity and peace of the forge.

It is interesting that Dickens chose to not have Trabb's boy as part of this chapter. I think this is another indication that Dickens wanted to give the scene a solemn simplicity. The conversation that Pip and Biddy have is given more emphasis and space as Biddy has more connection to the forge and its history with Pip. The one ominous cloud that hovers over the scene is the alleged presence of Orlick. He just seems to always be popping up - or lurking around everywhere.

Peter wrote: "I agree that one of the issues that haunted Dickens throughout his life is that of economic stability. Dickens saw what happened when his father ran into debt and suffered the consequences."


Yes, Dickens must have been keenly aware of the danger that lies in incurring debts or living beyond one's means. Even the irresponsible Mr. Micawber knows it all too well and gives us this famous quotation:

"Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen pounds nineteen and six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds nought and six, result misery."

And, like Pip, who spends so much time on listing his debts and lulls himself into the false sense of security that listing them is as good as paying them, Mr. Micawber never manages to cut down his expenses to what is within the reach of his means.

Dickens's novels, as you say, are full of people, usually men, who don't really know how to handle money.

Peter wrote: "It is interesting that Dickens chose to not have Trabb's boy as part of this chapter."

I hardly expected to see Trabb's boy at the funeral because after Pip's letter he would surely have been kicked out of his employment. I hope, however, that his wonderful impersonation of Pip was not the last we ever saw of Trabb's boy.

Tristram wrote: "There is a long way between the sugary, overly sentimental death scene of Little Nell and this one here,"

Poor, poor Little Nell.

"Dear Joe, how are you?"

Chapter 35

John McLenan

1861

Harper's Weekly

Text Illustrated:

"Another sable warder (a carpenter, who had once eaten two geese for a wager) opened the door, and showed me into the best parlor. Here, Mr. Trabb had taken unto himself the best table, and had got all the leaves up, and was holding a kind of black Bazaar, with the aid of a quantity of black pins. At the moment of my arrival, he had just finished putting somebody’s hat into black long-clothes, like an African baby; so he held out his hand for mine. But I, misled by the action, and confused by the occasion, shook hands with him with every testimony of warm affection.

Poor dear Joe, entangled in a little black cloak tied in a large bow under his chin, was seated apart at the upper end of the room; where, as chief mourner, he had evidently been stationed by Trabb. When I bent down and said to him, “Dear Joe, how are you?” he said, “Pip, old chap, you knowed her when she were a fine figure of a—” and clasped my hand and said no more."

Commentary:

Dickens here show us that the necessary concomitant of a materialistic society is a want of feeling in those who make a business of death like Mr. Trabb (who is, after all, just another local businessman on the make). Trabb's​ punctilious delight in costume and display contrasts the genuine grief of honest Joe Gargery. Joe speaks for Dickens when he tells Pip the kind of burial and mourning he would prefer: “I meantersay, sir, as I would in preference have carried her to the church myself, along with three or four friendly ones wot come to it with willing hearts and arms,” but he cannot follow his own wishes, he tells Pip, because “it were considered wot the neighbours would look down on such and would be of opinions as it were wanting in respect.” At this point, Trabb, the undertaker, orders the mourners to act out their grief.

"It was fine summer weather again"

Chapter 35

F. A. Fraser

c. 1877

Text Illustrated:

"Having written to Joe, to offer him consolation, and to assure him that I would come to the funeral, I passed the intermediate days in the curious state of mind I have glanced at. I went down early in the morning, and alighted at the Blue Boar in good time to walk over to the forge.

It was fine summer weather again, and, as I walked along, the times when I was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned. But they returned with a gentle tone upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now, the very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would be well for my memory that others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me."

"'It's of no use,' said Biddy"

Chapter 35

by F. A. Fraser. c. 1877

An illustration for the Household Edition of Dickens's Great Expectations

Text Illustrated:

“Are you quite sure, then, that you WILL come to see him often?” asked Biddy, stopping in the narrow garden walk, and looking at me under the stars with a clear and honest eye.

“O dear me!” said I, as if I found myself compelled to give up Biddy in despair. “This really is a very bad side of human nature! Don’t say any more, if you please, Biddy. This shocks me very much.”

For which cogent reason I kept Biddy at a distance during supper, and when I went up to my own old little room, took as stately a leave of her as I could, in my murmuring soul, deem reconcilable with the churchyard and the event of the day. As often as I was restless in the night, and that was every quarter of an hour, I reflected what an unkindness, what an injury, what an injustice, Biddy had done me.

Early in the morning I was to go. Early in the morning I was out, and looking in, unseen, at one of the wooden windows of the forge. There I stood, for minutes, looking at Joe, already at work with a glow of health and strength upon his face that made it show as if the bright sun of the life in store for him were shining on it.

“Good-bye, dear Joe!—No, don’t wipe it off—for God’s sake, give me your blackened hand!—I shall be down soon and often.”


“Never too soon, sir,” said Joe, “and never too often, Pip!”

Biddy was waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a mug of new milk and a crust of bread. “Biddy,” said I, when I gave her my hand at parting, “I am not angry, but I am hurt.”

“No, don’t be hurt,” she pleaded quite pathetically; “let only me be hurt, if I have been ungenerous.”

Once more, the mists were rising as I walked away. If they disclosed to me, as I suspect they did, that I should not come back, and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is,—they were quite right too."

Commentary:

The juxtaposition between this and the sixteenth illustration ("Oh, you must take the purse!"), when Pip was escorting a grown-up Estella to her finishing-school in Richmond, is telling. Here Fraser contrasts the emphasis on the appropriate upper-middle-class facade and Pip's supposed tutelage as a gentleman, as arranged by Miss Havisham, with the true, honest, unpretentious Biddy. She determines to become a dedicated teacher of the village children and assist Mrs. Hubble in looking after Joe, now suddenly a widower after the death of his incapacitated wife. The illustration also underscores the mystery surrounding Mrs. Joe's assault, as both Biddy and Pip strongly suspect Orlick of being the culprit.

We have not seen Biddy since I confide in Biddy (Then she softly patted my shoulder in a soothing way) in Chapter XVII. There she served as Pip's comforter, whereas here she upbraids him for neglecting Joe. This is our first impression of the grown-up Biddy, who will become a suitable wife for the kindly widower. She wears a linen cap and enormous linen apron as signs of her domestic nature, but otherwise Fraser fails to distinguish her, leaving establishing this newly assertive character to Dickens's text. Through his rigid posture Fraser suggests Pip's anger at thinking Orlick may have been responsible for the assault on his sister.

"At Mrs. Gargery's Funeral"

Chapter

Harry Furniss

1910

'Pocket-handkerchiefs out, all!' cried Mr. Trabb, in a depressed business-like voice — 'We are ready!' We all put our handkerchiefs to our faces, and filed out two and two; Joe and I leading. [A slightly condensed form of the text in Chapter 35. The paragraph goes on to list the mourners and describe the procession; "leading" is Furniss's invention.]

Dickens's Great Expectations, Library Edition

Text Illustrated:

“Pocket-handkerchiefs out, all!” cried Mr. Trabb at this point, in a depressed business-like voice. “Pocket-handkerchiefs out! We are ready!”

"So we all put our pocket-handkerchiefs to our faces, as if our noses were bleeding, and filed out two and two; Joe and I; Biddy and Pumblechook; Mr. and Mrs. Hubble. The remains of my poor sister had been brought round by the kitchen door, and, it being a point of Undertaking ceremony that the six bearers must be stifled and blinded under a horrible black velvet housing with a white border, the whole looked like a blind monster with twelve human legs, shuffling and blundering along, under the guidance of two keepers,—the postboy and his comrade.

The neighborhood, however, highly approved of these arrangements, and we were much admired as we went through the village; the more youthful and vigorous part of the community making dashes now and then to cut us off, and lying in wait to intercept us at points of vantage. At such times the more exuberant among them called out in an excited manner on our emergence round some corner of expectancy, “Here they come!” “Here they are!” and we were all but cheered. In this progress I was much annoyed by the abject Pumblechook, who, being behind me, persisted all the way as a delicate attention in arranging my streaming hatband, and smoothing my cloak. My thoughts were further distracted by the excessive pride of Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, who were surpassingly conceited and vainglorious in being members of so distinguished a procession."

Commentary:

Mr. Trabb takes punctilious delight in the public display of formalized grief; as an act by an arrogant and actually disinterested impressario, Trabb's effusive mourning pageant contrasts the genuine grief of honest Joe Gargery in Dickens's text. Joe speaks for his author when he tells Pip the kind of burial and mourning he would prefer: “I meantersay, sir, as I would in preference have carried her to the church myself, along with three or four friendly ones wot come to it with willing harts and arms,” but he cannot follow his own wishes, he tells Pip, because “it were considered wot the neighbours would look down on such [a scaled down ritual] and would be of opinions as it were wanting in respect.” At this point, Trabb, the local undertaker, orders the mourners to act out their supposed grief. Furniss captures the essential theatricality of the ceremony as Dickens describes it. But the later illustrator merely surrounds Pip and Joe (centre) with the sham mourners and does not effectively contrast Joe and Trabb as John Mclenan does in the parallel Harper's Weekly illustration.

What larks, Kim. More pictures!

It is very interesting to see how a different age/style of pictures can alter somewhat one's perception of a scene. With such variety of styles I find myself looking at what is most appropriate to my mind's eye rather than simply accepting Phiz as the definitive illustrator.

Looking at all of this week's illustrations I again am drawn to Furniss as my favourite illustrator, but I also think that his style of illustration and engraving is closest to Phiz, so I perhaps like Furniss by default. All in all, a delightful experience.

McLenan's depiction of Joe is truly bizarre.

Hmmm, the effect these recent illustrations have on me is to make me wish for Phiz. Even Furniss is becoming more and more odd in my view because his characters do look like Lord of the Ring elves, what with their angular faces, their slimness and their "pointedness". The scene looks like the beginning of some sort of ballet, but then maybe that is exactly what Furniss had in mind because the narrator himself made the reference to some kind of dance.

Tristram wrote: "In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus, he takes the ne..."

I wonder whether we'll ever find out who really attacked Mrs. Joe. Seems like a loose end, and normally Dickens doesn't leave loose ends.

Kim wrote: ""Dear Joe, how are you?"

Chapter 35

John McLenan"

Egad. Everybody there looks like a Neanderthal.

Basically these chapters show Pip as a dweeb.

Instead of explaining that, I'll just leave it there -- either you understand and agree, or you don't.

I understand. And agree.

I love reading all your comments on the illustrations. Every week it is fun to see how each of you "see" each of these. You often notice things I didn't - I'm too busy finding them to actually look at them, and I'm often laughing and going back to really look at the illustration.

Kim,

I am very thankful that you invest so much time into finding these illustratins, going through the comments and eliminating all possible spoilers. It's really interesting to see how much you can get out of those pictures, and that sometimes there are even little stories behind them.

Everyman wrote: "Pip as a dweeb.."

I just learned a new word there. I looked it up, to be on the safe side, but actually I could also have guessed it from the context. Pip = dweeb does not leave a whole lot of leeway for interpretation.

Until you said you looked it up I just assumed it was one of those Pennsylvania words no one else would know. But I guess it's not just one of our own.

Here is Joe Gargery's Forge and blacksmiths cottage at Chalk near Rochester, Kent. It's now a listed building:

Jean wrote: "Here is Joe Gargery's Forge and blacksmiths cottage at Chalk near Rochester, Kent. It's now a listed building:
"

Is that actually the building that Dickens based Gargery's Forge on? How neat!

Though I'm sure the roads looked a lot different in his day! And the cottage looks pretty good sized for a workman -- he must have been a well off one.

I agree, it doesn't exactly conjure up the feeling does it! But yes, apparently so :)

I love it!

It looks very quaint, but like Everyman, I would never have imagined it to be so spacious. Even without the wooden building in the front with the French windows, which is probably of a later, post-Dickensian date.

Perhaps that was what led to the "Listed" status, to prevent further additions.

That's also what makes it so un-nice to live in or even own a listed building.

Tristram wrote: "In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus, he takes the ne..."

What is more, Pip has started running up debts in the confidence in his supplies, and his bad example has also led his friend Herbert into spending more money than he could actually afford to do so that we can even venture to say that maybe, Herbert would even be better off had he never known Pip.
I was struck by two things while reading this chapter; (1) how financially wreckless Pip became in so little time, and (2) what exactly is Pip educated to pursue a trade in...What is his mode of occupation, should he choose to work? He definitely does not have a penchant for accounting, obviously.

Sure, Herbert would be better off, at this point, to not be in Pip's company; but they are fast friends and true friends go down together. I equate this episode of financial insecurity to being in college and making rash decisions as young twenty-somethings.

Tristram wrote: "In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus, he takes the ne..."

Tristram, I don't know why, but I found the whole funeral scene to play out more comically than anything. As you've stated,

Pip compares the preparations for the funeral with a preparation to some grim kind of dance,

the dance in conjunction to the emphasis placed on the handkerchiefs,

Pocket-handkerchiefs out, all! cried Mr. Trabb at this point, in a depressed business-like voice. Pocket-handkerchiefs out! We are ready!...

I visualized one of those New Orleans style wedding/Jazz funeral parades.

A typical jazz funeral begins with a march by the family, friends, and a brass band from the home, funeral home or church to the cemetery... There is raucous music and cathartic dancing where onlookers join in to celebrate the life of the deceased. Those who follow the band just to enjoy the music are called the second line, and their style of dancing, in which they walk and sometimes twirl a parasol or handkerchief in the air, is called second lining.

Something like this, maybe?

Here is a direct link to the Jazz Funeral: Wikipedia Page, and another link to Victorian Funeral Practices for further reading.

There is a long way between the sugary, overly sentimental death scene of Little Nell and this one here, I would say – and even Pip cannot withhold his tears. What does this tell you about Mrs. Joe? And why did she mention Pip with her last word?
What it tells me is that Mrs. Gargery had a rough life all around. Although I don't condone her behavior or treatment of Joe and Pip; nobody deserves the end she met at the hands of somebody else. Perhaps, Pip felt more sympathy for her despite her use of the tickler, while reflecting back on his days living at the forge. I will admit, even I, a tough non-bending critic of Mrs. Joe was taken down a couple of notches while observing a more human and vulnerable side to her. I'm glad for Pip, him finding peace with Mrs. Joe.

Finally, the funeral is over, and – Peter – we get the following detail:
Ah! I am not the one! I too think of Peter at every mention of a bird. :)

Yes, Peter, you often make me think of this here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kSmx...

Ami,

As to the funeral scene, it brought to my mind the funeral scenes in Martin Chuzzlewit with all their typically Victorian funereal pomp, e.g. the mutes, the pageant, the crapes and the strict mourning rules. Maybe, Dickens had a feeling that they were out of tune with real emotion, and he more often than once, intended to poke fun at them?

As to what trade Pip was supposed to learn, I think the trouble is that he was actually not supposed to learn any trade at all because as gentleman did not have any business to buy and sell nor to produce anything. His only trade was to expose a gentleman's behaviour, and as we have found out at various points of the novel, Pip is not even a very dab hand at that.

Ami wrote: "Tristram wrote: "In Chapter 35, the narrator tells us how Pip follows the summons to the funeral, and how one of his first reactions to the news of his sister’s death is blaming Orlick for it. Thus..."

It is at this point that I shall emerge from behind the curtain of the Victoria Naturalists Society and confess that I do enjoy the hobby of birdwatching. By no means am I even close to being a "twitcher" but a good long walk is always enhanced by stops along the way to enjoy the sights and sounds of birds and flowers and dragonflies and butterflies... and well, I guess that's enough of me being Pip to my very own Wemmick self. :-))

Do you know then, Peter, the man who collects birdwatchers' eggs?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihCPW...

Tristram wrote: "Do you know then, Peter, the man who collects birdwatchers' eggs?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihCPW..."

I have never seen this clip before. What a delightful way to begin my day.

Thanks Tristram

Tristram wrote: "Ami,

As to the funeral scene, it brought to my mind the funeral scenes in Martin Chuzzlewit with all their typically Victorian funereal pomp, e.g. the mutes, the pageant, the crapes a..."

Have not read it, I'm sure the funeral scene in it conjures up a more fitting image, however.

Tristram wrote: "Do you know then, Peter, the man who collects birdwatchers' eggs?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihCPW..."

You watch the strangest things.

Kim wrote: "You watch the strangest things. ."

The person who points one finger at another is actually pointing three fingers at themselves.

A very apt image for one who spends half her time looking at Christmas ornaments but accuses others of watching strange things.

Everyman wrote: "A very apt image for one who spends half her time looking at Christmas ornaments..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqyD3...

Great song, Kim! I'll say that much ;-)

As to Monty Python, when I first saw it, I was absolutely thunderstruck by that mixture of pure nonsense and deep absurdities, and I remember how we once talked a teacher into showing us "The Life of Brian" and how our teacher wanted to stop the film somewhere in the middle because it seemed so daring at the time. Some passages I still use at school, like the "What have the Romans ever done for us?" episode.

I don't think young people would bother about a film like that any more.