A catch-up

This blog has been silent for a while, although it has not been for a want of things on which to comment. A two-week holiday in Lesvos was preceded by a session at the Edgar Wallace (one of central London's finest) in Essex Street with Dr Ian Mortimer. Ian had emailed me after we spoke briefly at his talk at Waterstone's a few months back, and we had arranged to meet up when he was next in London. Together with Alex Ritchie, another old friend from HMC days, we had a fine night of it, topped off from my point of view by Ian putting a handsome tribute to my own research skills on his blog here (see entry for 1 May); a pity I don't have Ian's writing abilities, but there it is ...

So, two weeks in the Lesvos sun avoiding hordes of largely morose twitchers who, one must assume, had just missed some brief and rare flyover (I'd have thought that lesser kestrels, red-backed shrikes all over the place, ditto turtle doves, an osprey and squacco herons would have been pretty good going, especially when set against Britain's own impoverished avifauna, but apparently not so to judge from the scowls and long faces). And then home to find a clutch of enquiries waiting for me.

I hope that I treat all of the enquiries I receive with the same respect, but some heavyweight academic emails really caught my eye this time: one related to a couple of Irish catholics - so-called 'Wild Geese', presumably - gadding about in Spain in the late eighteenth century; the key question was whether or not reference to them could be found in the early Foreign Office records. The answer to that must remain ... maybe, because despite sampling a wide variety of correspondence and papers from some 21 of the most likely looking volumes and finding no mention of these men, the fact remains that there is still a mountain of documents that could be looked at if time permitted. What I did come across was actually of considerable interest, although not, sadly, for my client: without having time to dwell on the contents for too long, I noted papers from the British consuls at Cadiz, Carthagena and Ferrol documenting arcane trade issues raised by indignant merchants; detailed reports from the British ambassadors and diplomats of political jockeying among the nobles of the Spanish Court (conceivably of some use to Spanish historians of the period); reference to the activities in Spain of the other European powers; and extensive intelligence relating to the Spanish Army and Navy. All of that, but, much to my frustration, very seldom any mention of people outside the charmed circle of high politics. These diplomat sorts should have got out a bit more.

And what else? Well briefly, in connection with various commissions I have looked at workhouse records at the London Metropolitan Archives, Royal Navy logbooks at The National Archives, rolls of honour documenting the dead of the Boer War; that, and proofread a book on the recent history of Taiwan. It has been a busy time, hence the silence ...
   

Dr Ian Mortimer and some Krautrock

Of personal note was attending a recent talk at Waterstone's in Picadilly by Dr Ian Mortimer, the prolific historian and author. Dr Mortimer spoke about his new book, The Time Traveller's Guide to Elizabethan England, with characteristic fluency and brio, and I believe that a good evening was had by all. His assured performance and command of his subject was no surprise to me: back in the late 1990s I shared an office with Ian when we worked at the Historical Manuscripts Commission in Quality Court. I think back to those days with great fondness; I don't think a day went by without the pair of us vigorously testing our ideas about history, its meanings, sources, the pleasure of research and writing. Ian was always going to do well; allied to a fertile mind (I read several draft chapters from works that have since appeared in print) was that crucial element that is so often lacking in many would-be authors - an iron determination to succeed in his chosen sphere. A generous man Ian, as well; I remember one impromptu gathering at his place in Stoke Newington where he knocked together a fine meal for eight or nine of his HMC colleagues - it must have set him back a small fortune, but he didn't bat an eyelid. All this, and he's a big fan of Krautrock and Can in particular! I'll always be grateful to him for lending me his copy of Julian Cope's Krautrocksampler; a fine read - why isn't it in print?