Monday, May 11, 2009

347 years older...

So three generations of my family wandered down to Covent Garden to celebrate Mr Punch's birthday.

It's celebrated on the nearest Sunday to May 9th, because in 1662, Sam Pepys wrote in his diary that he went

into Covent Garden to an alehouse, to see a picture that hangs there, which is offered for 20s., and I offered fourteen—but it is worth much more money—but did not buy it, I having no mind to break my oath. Thence to see an Italian puppet play that is within the rayles there, which is very pretty, the best that ever I saw, and great resort of gallants.
I left my camera battery-charger at home in the US, and it died, so these were taken on my Nokia N73.

I counted about 18 Punch and Judy Tents on the little green behind the church...

And a few more set up in odd places. This was taken through a very dirty pub window, because I liked the gravestones behind the stripy tent. It's like the Mister Punch/Graveyard Book crossover I never wrote.

And I was happy to catch one show that ended with Mr Punch taking on the Devil. Even if Punch didn't actually kill anyone in this particular version, not even the Scottish Banker who stole all his money.

Photo taken by daughter of an author in the pub next door to the churchyard on Mr Punch's Birthday. Note impressive streaks of grey in the hair to denote the aging process.
And a quick edit to add, you can listen to Saturday's Radio 2 Jonathan Ross show on for the next five days. iPlayer for TV doesn't work out of the UK, but the radio one ought to work fine. I turn up about 65 minutes in and talk about Coraline, The Graveyard Book, 3D breasts and the vexing questions of how many custard creams were consumed the previous day and by who. (I ate one. One! And that was just to be polite. Jonathan is like a whale devouring krill when faced with a plate of custard creams. I'm just saying.)

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