The Clothes Make The Man... More Handsomer...

I haven't done a really self indulgent, inexcusably gratituous post in a while, so...

Skinny boys in suits!

No excuses. I have fun being this lame.

Perhaps it would be a little less lame if I wrote something interesting underneath each picture, but... what? What can I say? It's Andrew Garfield in a suit!

Additional points for nice hair.


Why is it so difficult to find a decent picture of Michael Crawford as a young man, be-suited or otherwise? And yes, I know: Michael Crawford.

Yes, Dick Van Dyke too.


Bonus round: longcoats!
X-)

Do not fall prey to the false belief that mastery and domination are synonymous with manliness.

Hello.

It's time for another blog about awesome manly role models! (Not that I particularly need role models for being manly (I'm manly enough already! Tee hee (I wonder just how grammatically wrong all these parentheses are? This is like a matryoshka doll sentence now.).) but there are lots of people out there who, I'm sure, would profit immensely from a nudge in the right direction. (Not that any of them are likely to read this blog! Still, I enjoy myself...))

Today we feature a real person, Mr. Henry Browne Blackwell.


A little story about how I found out about this admirable man... A while back, I bought meself this book, because it looked interesting (and it is). If I were writing a book about female role models it might come in handy - only occasionally, though; I wouldn't recommend the behaviour of, say, Mary Surratt or Wu Zetian as an exact guide... ANYWAY. I was reading this book, when I chanced upon a story about a lady named Elizabeth Blackwell. Her story is amazing, very inspirational stuff: first woman to graduate from an American medical school (her sister Emily was the third person), worked with Frances Nightingale (but then, everybody in medicine in the period seems to have done that).
A lot of her many siblings died, but... as I discovered later, they all seem to have been raised with the same awesome attitude towards human equality and justice... So, I finish reading about Elizabeth and skip back a few pages to read about Lucy Stone. Also, a brilliant, right-thinkin' woman: abolitionist and suffragist, what more could one ask?
Weeeell, in 1851 a certain gentleman named Henry Blackwell, within an hour of meeting her, proposed marriage - and was refused. He then spent the next two years courting her before they finally married. He supported Lucy's (many) causes, ran the Woman's Journal with her, let her keep her own surname and drew up this document with her to be read and signed at their wedding. I haven't been able to find out a whole ton of information about him other than these interesting facts, but I think that this man deserved a hearty pat on the back - in a period when women with brains were ridiculed and any sort of public status made women instantly unattractive in the minds of the general populace! And you have to admire a man who doggedly pursued (and succeeded in) a relationship with a woman who compared marriage to death!

Plus... guess whose brother Henry Blackwell happened to be? Of course Elizabeth! Their other brother, Samuel Charles Blackwell, married the first woman minister in America, Antoinette Brown Blackwell.

:-D

Sam Is The Hero Next Door!

So-ho-ho-ho...

I had intended to start of this blog series about male role models by focusing on someone real and awesome and admirable, like William Wilberforce or George Müller (who shall not escape, however - I hope! - from being written about in the series) to show off as a shining example of manliness, but I find my brain is not in the correct mood for writing about admirable historical persons, manly and all as they may be. Also, today is the last day of Bush Fire Awareness Week in NSW. So I shall revert to my dearly beloved childhood and give you my manliness critique of:


Fireman Sam
(Isn't his cowlick the cutest?)

Fireman Sam is a Welsh stop-motion children's program. (In researching this blog I note that there is a new, CG series, but I will ignore it as a travesty of my childhood memories and continue).
I am, of course, zoning in on the personal character of the eponymous Sam and his fitness as a role model for my generation.

Starting off, Samuel Jones, fireman, esq., is always impeccably dressed (in his fireman uniform, but let's not push a point.). The Art of Manliness says that 'Appearance matters.'

He is proficient at his chosen occupation, calm in emergencies... and possesses an inventive mind, always a bonus ... and his - hair! And - WELSH ACCENT! Sorry, moment of weakness there.

Happy 'To-Write-Love-On-Her-Arms' Day!

Good evening.

I very recently bought a book called The Art of Manliness. Strange choice, in the opinion of all the people with whom I have discussed it, but I wish I could make this attractive little volume an official part of Australia's school curriculum (at least for the masculine side of school attendees!).
I'm really quite obsessive about the 'old fashioned'; particularly when it comes to culture and style and manners. It troubles me that today's men have grown up with such a poor model of manliness in Western society - think television, particularly. The Simpsons (and all it's imitators), Friends... ah, basically any sitcom. Think of main male characters. Worried yet? Disappointingly, the feminist movement has basically made being a man sort of lame, which is why we find our screens flooded with immature quippy pranksters or ultra-violent emotionless so-called 'heroes'. Ugh.

I'm considering doing a blog series on awesome real and fictional male role models... if I can be bothered...

"Judging by my feelings just now, I don't think I'll be alive presently, so I can promise without any trouble."

Hello-ello-ello,

Today, my dearest readers, I wish to take you on a tour of lovely books you probably haven't read because nobody reads them anymore.

Let us start with my favourites:

The Billabong books by Mary Grant Bruce

I first happened upon these books (there are fifteen all in all) when my cousin gave me the first three for Christmas one year. She hadn't read them, but they looked like the sort of thing we're both into. I was going through my horsy phase at this time (I shudder and cringe in retrospect; a person who doesn't ride has no right to know so much about dressage, gymkhana and general equestrian trivia) and so was watching 'The Saddle Club' every day, reading all the Saddle Club books, The Silver Brumby, A Pony For The Winter (and basically every other 'whinge, whinge, buy me a ruddy pony already, daddy or I'll go steal one!' book in the library).
So A Little Bush Maid (don't judge a book by its title, my loves) was the perfect gift for me at the time. And then I fell in love. With Wally Meadows, to be specific. Norah (the main character)'s brother's best friend, a rich orphan boy from Queensland who comes down with Jim (Norah's aforementioned brother) every holiday from boarding school in Melbourne. I must say that, if first dibs counts for anything, I fell in love with Wally eight books before Norah did.

These books jumpstarted my deep and abiding affection for early 20th century slang, fictional boys, books about WWI (Jim and Wally go off to war in books 4-7), Australian fiction of the period (more of which shall be discussed later) and it weaned me off the horsy books. Although horses are a recurring theme (the series being set mainly on a cattle station in Victoria) they are far less enchanting than the people.

I can't really explain why I love Wally so much - it would take a whole book to do that. I think I'll give you a little excerpt instead (I feel no qualms about it being a major plot spoiler because the chances of you reading these books are incredibly incredibly slim.)

'"You're a queer chap, Wal.' [said Jim] 'Why did you never tell me about the trouble you and Norah had with the roan bull?"

Wally was glad that it was nearly dark. He hesitated a moment, trying to make his voice careless.

"Oh - I don't know. Did Norah tell you?"

"She only told me last night. By Jove! It must have been an awfully near thing! She reckons she'd have been killed, to a certainty, if you hadn't turned up. Was it as narrow a shave as that?"

"Yes, it was pretty narrow. I don't want to see anything closer." To his disgust, Wally found it difficult to speak in his ordinary voice; again came that dryness of the mouth, the sick horror, that always swept over him at the memory of Norah's peril. Jim glanced at him curiously.

"But why didn't you tell me anything about it?"

"I - I'm hanged if I know," Wally said.

"Well," said Jim, and stopped. The shade of hurt surprise in his tone cut Wally like a whip. It was unthinkable that any misunderstanding should come between him and Jim. [Another thing I love about these books: the epic bromance between Jim and Wally]

"I don't know why," he said desperately. "I - I couldn't talk of it somehow. It was too close. I - Oh, hang it, old man, can't you understand? Norah - well, I can't even think of it easily. I care too much."

For a moment there was utter silence. The Jim's great hand caught at his chum's and wrung it.

"Why, Wal!" he said, "Dear old chap!"

"Well, that's that!" said Wally. "I only realised it myself a little while ago, and I've been pretty miserable ever since."

"But why?" said Jim, "Why shouldn't you care for her?"

And that's all I'll give you. I think, actually that what I love about Wally (besides the dark hair, sensitive nature, deep olive tan, cheerfulness, loyalty, dancing skills, optimism, enthusiasm, random use of Gaelic endearments and big brown eyes) is his improbable but devestating combination of a tough, manly, outdoorsy Aussie type with the chivalrous romantic gentleman of the period. *Sigh*.

Well, that's about all we have time for today, folks. I intended this to be a post about rare out-of-print stories that rock... and then spent the entire time raving about a man who doesn't even exist. I'm a hopeless case.

A loud voice cannot compete with a clear voice, even if it's a whisper.

I don't particularly know why, but I think a nice follow-up to last night's post about attractive fictional blokes would be blogging about chaps with heavenly voices. So that's what I have decided to do.

In no particular order:

1. Alan Rickman



2. Geoffrey Rush (I only chose this vid coz it had the piratical melodies of Rush's Barbossa voice - I couldn't bear to watch the whole thing owing to the intensely melodramatic soundtrack...)



3. Jeremy Irons





4. Morgan Freeman (surprise, surprise! An American!)



5. John Cleese



6. Christopher Lee



And now some singers because they have to have to-die-for voices

1. Michael Buble

2. Russell Watson

3. Pavarotti

4. Nat King Cole



You'll have to look up some songs yourself I'm afraid - I've completely lost patience with the slowness of youtube on this computer... but recommedations include 'Bridge Over Troubled Waters', by Watson, 'Feeling Good' by Buble, I can't remember the dashed Italian name of my favourite Pavarotti, 'When I Fall In Love' by Nat King Cole... I have dozens of other singers and songs that I could rave about, but now I think I shall collapse on my bed and drift into dreamland on the lissome tones of my favourite crooners.

Oh, and here's something totally stupid and random. But it has two lovely voices in it so here we go: (don't bother watching to the end, the stupidity gets distracting)

Acushla Machree

You may, some of you, remember me saying that I have never had a crush on anybody. This isn't strictly true. Most of my crushes have been English or of English origins... and fictional. Indeed.

It all began with my childhood obsessions with Peter Pan and Robin Hood. I either flew to Neverland almost every night as a preteen or stalked the forests with a band of Merry Men. Then I moved on to falling in love with less likely heroes - Curdie from The Princess And The Goblin, Rat from The Wind in The Willows, and Sam Gamgee the true hero of The Lord of The Rings. As I grew older I moved on to Jane Austen. *Chuckles* Mr Darcy and Mr Knightley and the rest are all very well... but I simply adore Henry Tilney...
Then it was Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Pimpernel. Nowadays I'm rather immersed in P.G. Wodehouse. I have the mildest crush on Bertie - because he is rather a darling - but really I'm head over heels for Jeeves...











Oh, the cleverness of me!

Simply messing about in boats!

Where there is all hole, sir Never can be holes
Why should shoes have soles, sir
When they've got no souls?

I shall love her until the day I die. That's the tragedy.

"There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...and it's worth fighting for!"

"Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again."

Well, when a girl thinks you're in love with her and comes to you and says that she's returning her betrothed to store and is prepared to sign up with you instead - what can you do except marry her? You have to be civil.
















I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir.

Rude and not ginger.

Amusing text message from my mother; received Blackstump weekend:

'I found your husband he's christian, really cute skinny and plays the double bass for architrave and is singing a fairtrade jazz song as i text u! He looks like the love child of steve edwards and scoot'

I find that more than faintly hilarious. Now I wish I had seen Architrave play. After reading this I passed my phone to one of my friends to read it, and the blank look on her face was worth millions. I don't know if she thought Mum was serious, but it took a few moments to process, with me explaining that it's an in joke - my mother does NOT go around matching me to total strangers - I hope! But she's right, you know - my dream boy would be cute and skinny and play the double bass (or any instrument really) and sing fairtrade songs...

Dum de dum de dum. I think I shall take a leaf out of Kristen's book and list cute guys... not something I do often, but now I am tempted... this should be fun...

1stly: David Tennant

Isn't he just edible? And his portrayal of our dear darling Doctor is too delicious. Making Doctor Who a star amongst BBC programs, which is high praise indeed.


2ndly: Dev Patel


I know that my evaluations are chiefly based on sweet characters played by the actors - for all I know all these guys could be rude drunken snobs - but the lovely lovely character of Jamal Malik is enough to give anybody at least a mild crush on Dev Patel. Besides, he's so cuuuuute!


3rdly: Dick Van DykeNow I obviously don't mean as he is in his current stage of life, although I'm sure he's just as nice a person as he always was - but in his youth, and particularly in his Mary Poppins role of 'Bert' he was positively irresistibly gorgeous... his simply brilliant dancing and appalling Cockney accent (I watch that movie and feel much more positive about my own Cockney attempts) in that film always have me in fits of delight.


4thly: Michael Crawford

Same as above BUT MORE SO. I feel a twinge of sadness whenever I see a picture of Michael Crawford past the age of about 35, because he was so very pretty when younger. And I mean Frank Spencer/Cornelius Hackl era. I have a weird thing for long skinny legs on guys in suits.


5thly: Sean Maher


And here we move away from tall skinny guys in suits... But we don't move away from suits! I have never seen Sean Maher in any other role than Simon Tam in Firefly, and this one is definitely a case of character crush rather than actor crush; simply because Simon is so nice. Even if he does look a bit like a cross between an undertaker and a Backstreet Boy.


6thly: John Hannah
Again, character not actor. John Hannah is simply here because of his role in Sliding Doors. I didn't even really like that movie very much, but I do love his character.


Starting to get a bit tired of this... silly attention span failing me. Will probably post a secondary part to this list sometime...