Festival of Britain Medallion 1951

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Festival of Britain Medallion 1951 – Yes – it is Soap!

 

The word medallion is used in several contexts, including architecture and food, so trying to define it can be confusing. Generally, in numismatic terms, it is a large piece of metal used to commemorate something. However, does it have to be metal? I have a glass medallion from Pilkington’s Glass. It is 65mm in diameter and commemorates the Royal Visit of 1961 and the information in the box lid refers to it as a “glass medal”. Without that description I would have thought it was a paperweight or a coaster. But if they say it is a medal, that’s good enough for me.

Another unusual material used to make medallions is soap. This, again, is made more complicated by the tendency to use the term medallion as a description far a small decorative soap. However, I have seen at least four things which I consider to be medallions made from soap – two George VI Coronation medallions, a Preston Guild set of three soaps (I was the underbidder on that) and the one illustrated here – the Festival of Britain. I know that a bust of George VI was made in soap and that there was another soap made in 1951. However, that was described and marketed as soap and was uniface, with the Festival logo on one side.

The medallion pictured here is 67mm in diameter. It was probably ivory-coloured when it was produced but has grown darker over the years, particularly the obverse. The reverse, I think, was protected from the air by resting on the bottom of the box but the obverse has darkened due to contact with the air.

The obverse has the familiar 1951 Festival of Britain logo on it, and the reverse has a design featuring the Great Exhibition of 1851, and even has details of clouds in the sky.

My mother bought this when she went to the Festival with her sister in 1951, and my sister still has it. I first saw it in the 1960s, and remember that it was still heavily scented. My example came from an antique fair about thirty years ago and even now retains traces of the original scent.

I have seen the soap medallions in both red or blue boxes. The inside of the lid says “Made in England/by/RICHARD WHEEN & SONS LTD/London SE8/Makers of fine soaps/since 1769” They are signed “WHEEN LONDON” below the logo.

This was first published on the Facebook page of the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire 01.01.25. As such I tend to limit he length and, with writing one every week, don’t have time to spend on editing, which is why it may be  a little rough around the edges.

Is Writing a Pleasure or is it Publication?

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We woke this morning after hearing moderately heavy rain overnight. The general aspect of the morning was wet, rather than snowy, icy or frosty.  Looking at the choice of words there, I realise that the story of the Innuit and all their words for snow might not be as outlandish as we think. We seem to have a good selection of words for it and some years we don’t get any. This year, I think, we may have a snowy winter. That will be good as it will see a lot of rats and disease off. On the other hand, the birds will need plenty of food.

For the first time in 12 months the rain did not make it inside, the builders having done their job well. I can’t help thinking it may have been more cost effective just to retile he roof with banknotes but hopefully the pain will subside.

The worst bit of the builders being here, apart from having to get up at a time dictated by someone else, is that we had the dining table in the living space and the conservatory contents in the dining area. Two days of living with clutter brought back a lot of old memories and was not pleasant. This morning, as 7pm dawned, I pulled the flannelette duvet cover up to my chin, arranged the coverlet to block any gaps and luxuriated in the warmth. It was good.

I suppose I ought to have used this as the beginning of the last post, but that one seemed to take on a life of its own. I also note that I seem to be a day behind again. This, I think, is mainly due to my lack of routine. The days bleed into one, particularly if I sleep in front of TV and restart late at night. I must get to grips with this for several reasons – health, vitality, writing quality and consistency are ones I can think of immediately.

During the day I exchanged emails with someone who told me I shouldn’t be stressing over the amount I wrote as it should be a relaxation now I was retired. Writing, he said, should be a pleasure. I have never found it to be a pleasure. For me, the pleasure comes from finishing and from publication. The writing is a real grind.

How about you? And, as an extra question,  would you carry on writing if you had nobody to read it?

A Nomination is Announced

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Leaves and frost – Wilford, Nottingham

I’ve just had a newsletter through from the Tanka Society of America, and in it they have a list of the people they have put through as nominees for the Pushcart Prize. Those of you who think I am called Quercus (which was a name I go by the accident of working for Quercus Community when I started the blog) will wonder why I’m bothering to tell you this. Those of you who know my real name will note that it appears on the list, and all will become clear.

Although I am quite pleased with it, it’s important to remember that it’s only a nomination. I have won nothing.  On the other hand, an editor (or in this case two editors) have picked me out as being the writer of one of the six best things they have published this year. Pleasing as that is, there’s a big difference between a nomination and winning a prize. However, like the Oscars, people do note in their biographical notes that they are nominees. This is handy, as I’ve never yet won anything for writing. In fact I’ve never been a runner-up either – just “highly commended”. Twice in twenty years. You will not find me mentioned anywhere as an overnight success.

Heron at Clumber Park

I did get into the Red Moon Anthology a couple of times, I also slipped out again, as you are only as good as your last poem.  The first year I was in, I worried about never making it again. The next time, I worried less, but it wasn’t a great year and I didn’t write anything good enough to be chosen. That was depressing, but also made me concentrate a bit more, so I have bounced back. Of course, the trick is making sure I keep the quality coming.

Pushcart Prize Nominations for 2025

November 25, 2025

The Tanka Society of America is pleased to announce the following nominations for The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses LI anthology, as selected by Ribbons editors Liz Lanigan and Susan Weaver.

For those of you who are interested, this poem was turned down three times before it was accepted and became my most “successful” poem to date.  I actually think I may have written better poems last year, but that is how it goes. I certainly wrote worse ones!

Robin at Clumber, Nottinghamshire

 

The Dog-Eared Page 

Stumbling, after treading on my trouser cuffs, I fall against the wall. I have grown portly, and my waist has dropped, making my trouser legs too long. It is a hazard of old age I had not anticipated and I, like Prufrock, must wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Balding, sniggered at, ignored by singing sirens, I stagger on a one-way trip through the strange country that is old age. I never thought, when I first read Eliot as a teen, that I was looking at a route map of my life.

the road ahead
is shorter than the one
behind
crowded with regrets
and tests I did not pass

 

To Eat, or Not to Eat

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Tufted Duck male on the duck pond at Arnot Hill, Arnold, Notts

A few years ago, having bought too much cheese at Christmas I lost some in the back of the fridge. A piece of cheddar struck up an acquaintance with the neighbouring Stilton and produced a lovely creamy blue cheddar. I thought about trying to do it again, but didn’t, as I fear I would just be disappointed. Plus, I didn’t really want to become a cheese maker.

Earlier this week, being cavalier in my attitudes to putting jars in the fridge after opening, I ended up with mould on a jar of apricot jam. The main store cupboard in the kitchen can get quite warm at times (there is a radiator on the other side of the wall behind it) and I feel this may have something to do with it, as it rarely happened at the last place where the food cupboards were up against external walls.

We were having croissants for breakfast. I order them about once a month as Julia likes them. I can take them or leave them. I remarked that there was mould on the jam and suggested she be careful about not picking it up on her knife. She, as usual, over-reacted. I, it seems, was dicing with death by eating this jam. Mould is deadly. Did I want to make myself ill? It’s an argument we have had before. Lots or websites and magazines tell you it is deadly stuff. But he evidence of my own experimentation with moulds is that they don’t do much harm.

Black Headed Gull perching on a post in the water. Who names these birds? Even in summer the head is brown, not black.

Look at Stilton and penicillin, for instance. Have they ever killed anybody?

Exactly.

So next time it happens I am going to scrape it off before she sees it (which is what I normally do) and not mention it. I’d better be careful now, in case the worst happens. What starts off as a joke in a blog looks very different in the hands of a barrister and an expert witness in R v Quercus.

Anyway, to get to the point, do you have a viewpoint on mouldy food? Mine is that I don’t want to buy it mouldy but don’t mind eating it. Apart from that black fluffy stuff. That does not look appetising.

I assume you all already have a view on uxoricide, so I won’t ask.

Fungus at Bakewell. Nice on a stump, not so good on top of your jam.

 

 

The Reality v The Plan

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Potato & Chickpea Curry

A quote from the previous post.

I will be preparing a vegetable stew, a Chinese rice and a mushroom curry tomorrow  while Julia is at the tearoom. We will eat one for tea, one tomorrow, and freeze the third. Soup will also be on the menu. Cauliflower and broccoli soup, then leek and potato

The reality is hat after doing more writing (or, struggling to write, if I’m honest), I watched TV with Julia on her return, ate crumpets (with proper butter), shared the last slice of Ginger Cake and, eventually wrenched myself from my seat at around 6pm. I now have a vegetable stew, a portion of veg for making hash and a mushroom curry. I don’t have the Chinese rice I planned, or any soup and I had to ration the leeks to leave enough for the soup. It’s not quite as organised as I had hoped, but on the other hand it’s better than  nothing and the floppy veg are all being used.

I did think about pudding but most of the bread is in the freezer and, with builders expected tomorrow, there’s a chance we may be needing the milk for making tea.  I also crossed rice pudding and quiche off the list due to the milk situation.

Iranian Vegetable Stew

The medallion post I struggled with has been sent off and the next one is under way, but is resisting me. This often happens when I run my stock of articles down to the last one. It’s why I try to keep at least two weeks ahead with the Numismatic Society. At one a week, you need to keep on top of it. I had hoped that if I could keep it going for a year, some other people would have a go, but it hasn’t happened. When I’m also trying to write poetry and articles for other societies my stock of articles soon disappears.

I chose two easy subjects to get a couple of articles in the bag, but even that takes time and my resolve to avoid getting sucked into doing too much research soon weakens.

Julia is just doing the dumplings for tonight’s stew, using vegetarian suet, so I will soon be back to eating, watching TV and snoozing.

Tomorrow we are expecting builders.

Chorizo and Bean Stew

Chorizo and Bean Stew

 

 

Another Day Slips By

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Stamford, Lincolnshire 

I’m sitting at the computer with a hat and gloves on. The heating has gone off and it has become quite nippy indoors. We have a good heating system and adequate pensions, so don’t need to be cold, but old habits die hard. Personally, I would switch the bedroom radiator off completely as we should be warm enough under a mound of covers, but Julia has it set so that at 5.30 every morning I wake feeling too hot. She is often awake at that time too but seems oblivious to the possibility of turning the heating down.

I’ve watched quite a lot of TV, cooked, snoozed and written.

The writing is an article about a medallion. I failed to finish it. The cooking was a breakfast of festive bubble and squeak (using leftover sprouts, chestnuts and roast veg) with bacon and eggs). Tea was potato wedges with beans and cheese and onion pasties. It was a simple meal but still nice. We ate the last mince pies with a  cup of coffee as our dessert. We seem to have missed lunch and not really noticed after the substantial breakfast.

Detail of the Cross

We will not be having a shopping delivery tomorrow as we have built up quite a surplus over the holidays and the veg is looking a bit jaded. It’s not going off, but it’s giving the impression that stage is not far off. I will be preparing a vegetable stew, a Chinese rice and a mushroom curry tomorrow  while Julia is at the tearoom. We will eat one for tea, one tomorrow, and freeze the third. Soup will also be on the menu. Cauliflower and broccoli soup, then leek and potato. Some freezing will be involved.

Then I need to turn my attention to the growing pile of pizza bases and quiche cases. It seemed a good idea to buy some extra for holiday snacks but we didn’t, in the end, have to produce as many meals and snacks as my imagination suggested. I have been better at shopping over the last few years, but this year I did no plan quite so well.

And that was how I passed the third day of 2026.

Now I am waiting. WP tells me it can’t proceed to load photos as the connection has been lost. It hasn’t been lost from this end, so I assume the problem is (again) with the Internet or at WP’s end.

More Stamford.

When looking Stamford up on the internet and checking its use for filming I found it had hosted over 100 films and stars such as Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, Elia Kazan, Sam Mendes, Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, and Steven Seagal had been involved. This just goes to show the reach of the USA in its attacks on British culture. Not only do we have to put up with your spellings and, but you also try to steal our town names. Stamford Connecticut is, I’m sure, a lovely town but, having only been founded in 1640, lacks Mediaeval charm. Stamford, Lincolnshire, does have Mediaeval charm and has been the venue for Pride and Prejudice (2005), The Da Vinci Code (2006) and Middlemarch (1994). Pictures are from January 2018.

Two Acceptances and Plans for Writing and a Conservatory Roof

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Tree cutting on the island.

It happened again. It’s now January 3 and I have only published one post. I am now sitting up in the middle of the night trying not to fall too far behind.

I slept in late as a result of my nocturnal writing last night, allied to a late night for New Year. Then I watched antiques on TV, fell asleep in my chair, woke just before Julia returned from the cafe, did enough typing to make it look like I had been working and stopped for tea and cake, a visit from my sister with tarpaulins for tomorrow and watched quizzes. All in all, I did not distinguish myself with industry. Tomorrow? You are probably asking. Tomorrow we are emptying the conservatory and as long as the snow holds off we should have a new conservatory roof by the end of next week.

Black Headed Gull

Finally, 12 months after taking possession, we should be water-tight and fully repaired. We would be 100% functional if it wasn’t for the fault on the light switches in the hallway that started over Christmas and the back gate which is starting to fall apart. Annoyingly, in the old days, although I never meddled with electrics, I could have built a new gate in a day. Now I will have to pay someone to do it. Is there no end to household repairs?

Meanwhile, back with the writing, I have heard back from one of the editors I submitted to on 30th December. That’s fine service, and two more acceptances to add to my 2025 tally. That takes me to 53 for the year. It’s also means I have a number of rejects to form the basis for my submissions this month. I may well junk my haiku, as I very rarely manage to sneak one in but the returned haibun and tanka will all do for resubmission.

Mandarin drake at Arnot Hill Park, Nottinghamshire

Little and Large!

I have started a couple of new haibun too, having listed my work for the month ahead. It’s on an archaic spreadsheet – or “written on a piece of paper” as we used to call it, and I am feeling more organised. When I feel organised I always seem able to do more work. I won’t list my calculations, but I’m going to need to be organised if I have any chance of improving on last year, particularly as I want to improve my quality and increase my range.

The Heron is back again. Arnot Hill Park

 

 

One Day – Two Failures

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My bread plaiting days . . .

Having resolved to blog daily, I had visitors, snacked, watched TV, dozed and, finally, realised that the day had gone. So here I am, hacking away at a keyboard in the early hours.

Daily blog – missed. Good sleep habits – missed.

I’m now moving the goalposts to 365 posts in the year. I am sure I can hit that, even if it isn’t exactly daily. Experience shows that if I can get the habit back, it will take over and I will, once again, begin to feel uncomfortable if I miss a day.

I’m going to alter good sleep habits to better sleep habits. Better sleep habits are a slightly easier target as I can claim to be better whilst still being bad at things. “Better”, after all, just means “less bad”.

We watched quite a lot of Pride and Prejudice this afternoon, the 1995 TV version with Colin Firth as Darcy. I also quite like the 1980 version the BBC did, which was what converted me to romantic comedy. I say this because something did and Pride and Prejudice, whilst not being exactly “comedy”, comes nearest to fitting the description. I’ve never really settled to the books and apart from Sense and Sensibility I’ve never really enjoyed other film versions. I’m at an age now where I either have to knuckle down and tackle them seriously or confess my shortcomings as a reader and use the time for something I enjoy.

Badger-faced Welsh cross-breed

The 1980 version only comes in at Number 9 on the list of the 10 best, and the 1990 strikes me as being very accurate in costume and detail. Yes, the 2005 Kiera Knightley version has its charms, but it’s just not quite as good. As for the rest, I have only seen Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and I wasn’t impressed. It could have been great, but it was a bit flat and I really don’t know how the list compiler can put it in at Number 3. Anyway, that’s just my opinion, maybe a true Austen devotee can tell me why this version is so good. Then you can tell me why the Bollywood version and the multiple American versions are so good.

I’m off to bed now and will check this in the morning before posting. While I’m asleep I will try to dream a  screenplay for Pride and Prejudice – Old Age and Treachery, where Darcy and Bingley get into all sorts of unsuitable scrapes as the Bennet girls try to make them grow up and attempt to prevent an unfortunate happening for Mr Collins in the rivalry over gardens.  I can see a garden shed, a still and a home-built steam engine cropping up, not to mention a sequence involving dandy horses and a long hill . . .

Edit: I tightened things up a bit and added to my outline for Pride and Prejudice – Old Age and Treachery by adding dandy horses. This, in turn, means it would be advantageous to locate it around Pemberley and would leave Mr Collins, having inherited Longbourn, out of the picture. For a look at the real life Longbourn  follow this link.  It also contains a link to a better list of recent versions of Austen’s work.

A Bear impersonating a 19th Century farmworker.

Photos are a selection from January 2016.

 

 

 

 

 

Happy New Year Everybody

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Squirrel on the fence – we now regularly see two or three at a time. They eat from the trays and go, as the rest of the food is kept in cages.

Yes, not a very imaginative title, but that’s just how I am. I would have refrained from using it but WP is playing up and not sending greetings to people when I try to answer comments. I wonder if this is a sign of things to come and Russian hackers are responsible for the regular problems we now experience with internet services. Or Chinese or Iranian hackers.

Eleven years on WordPress and this is my least productive year apart from the first one, which was only a couple of months.

I’ve always thought that the farm years were the best ones on the blog, with loads of photos, cute animals, a worthwhile occupation and interesting subjects. I was wrong, when I look at the figures. The best year was 2017, the year I was off work. I posted more and had my best ratio of likes to posts. Things were reasonable whilst I was in the shop. 2020 allowed more time for posting but in 2022 my posting started to fall away and my likes ratio went down alarmingly. It was 23 likes per post in 2017, fell to 18 by 2021, and in 2022 fell to 12, despite good posting numbers. I only managed 8.5 likes per post in 2025.

Squirrel in MENCAP gardens, Wilford

It’s probably just that I’m becoming dull, but I must try to do something about it. Apart from becoming dull (look at the third paragraph of this post for an example), I have been ill and have also written a lot of other stuff and, with a lack of time, I have stopped reading and commenting as much as I used to. Somewhere in all that, there is an answer.

So, in addition to more submissions next year I am going to do try to become a better blogger. I’m not quite sure how to go about that, but can hopefully come up with an idea by tomorrow.

Until then, enjoy the celebrations, or sleep through them if that is your preferred option, and I will see you all next year.

Squirrel at Rufford

 

The Bald Man Diaries

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Julia by the Canal

It has been a long time since I had an electric shaver, but the special head shaving shaver Julia bought me for Christmas has been excellent. I cut my hair a few weeks before Christmas (she let me have it early) and after initially taking my hair back to the scalp with my normal trimmer I have been able to render myself bald and tidy without a problem ever since.

It is so much easier than finding all my shaving gear, lathering up my head, contorting my arms to reach the tricky bits and, once in a wile, having to saunch the bleeding. Modern wet razors are very good and I am a a careful man so blood is not obligatory, but it always a fear. That is why I tend to be an enthusiastic shaver for a few weeks then let it grow for a year or so after that, until it becomes long, straggly and slightly sinister.

I tend not to take selfies at that point as I look like the school janitor in so many horror movies, or the barber in the Westerns who betrays the marshal to the gunman.

I have been wondering, since staring to use it, where all the hair goes, as not much seems to come out when I brush it.  I thought it might be like cutting a lawn. If you give grass two light cuts a week you don’t need to clear it up and it does not build up thatch. However, it seemed unlikely as hair clippings aren’t going to mulch down. So I had a good root about with the brush and a toothpick. It seems the clippings pack down really small, and there are, once you get going, more places to hide than you think there are.

Julia, Sutton-on-Sea

That’s not all I have done, to be fair. I have finished off twenty poems that form this months submissions. I planned my time better this month and had a few things ready weeks in advance, though some needed fine tuning today. This is still 24 hours better than usual, so I am feeling more relaxed, and quietly pleased with myself.

I am now gathering my resources for a week of writing about numismatics before getting back to poetry.

There was an interesting programme on about Geoff Capes tonight. He was, amongst other things, World’s Strongest Man twice, an Olympic athlete and an internationally known breeder of budgies. He was also a local man and I remember seeing him when he was a policeman in Peterborough. We ate a takeaway curry as we watched. The curry was delivered from a kitchen based in a pub where I used to drink nearly 50 years ago. At that time we had chip shops and a couple of Chinese takeaways in town. It never occurred to me that we would end up with dozens of restaurants operating a delivery service. Times change.

Julia on the patio

As the year draws to a close, it is good to count your blessings, which is the reason for the photos.