Blowbag

It was many years ago that I first read Aldous Huxley's 'Antic Hay', one of his first best sellers and published in 1923. At that time I thought it a tremendous book and remembered ever afterwards that part of the story which concerned inflatable rubber pouches worked into the seats of trousers so that one could sit in otherwise uncomfortable places, perhaps in the seats of a lower grade theatre or concert hall. Known in the book as Gumbril's Patent Small Clothes, an invention which was to propel the young Gumbril out of teaching in a public school, an occupation to which he was not suited. A public school with a chapel with very uncomfortable seats for the staff, who were apt to be confined in them for protracted periods.

So I was pleased, quite by chance, to come across the gadget illustrated. Not built into trousers, but otherwise the same sort of idea. One places it on the uncomfortable place, sits on it and then blows it up until one reaches comfort. It seems to work OK at home, but I have yet to try it out in the field, as it were.

In the meantime, I thought I would take another look at 'Antic Hay', and with my own copy having long been culled, reserved it from the library. Surrey Libraries being quite efficient in such matters, it soon turned up at Epsom Library, having been transferred from some other library in the deep south.

Sadly, although the prose still sparkled, the book had lost much of its appeal, and I failed to muster enough interest in the bright young things of Huxley's circle in the aftermath of the first world war (from which he had been barred by his very bad eyesight). A circle which included luminaries such as D.H. Lawrence. But not the Edward Garnett of reference 1, with the index of Sybil Bedford's biography of Huxley including just one entry for David Garnett, the son of Edward. Perhaps Edward was too busy nursing young authors who needed nursing to bother with quickly successful authors like Huxley. Perhaps Huxley was not considered to be a serious writer.

Taking a further look this morning, I was tempted to give it another go, but in the end decided against. Back to the library with it.

As it happened, while all this was going on, in the course of the expedition noticed at reference 2, the Raynes Park platform library yielded Waugh's 'Put Out More Flags', another comic novel concerning a rather different set of bright young things, published in 1942, just about twenty years later than 'Antic Hay' with this particular copy being a cheap war time edition from 1943. But it was the same story. The prose may not have sparkled, but I failed to muster enough interest. Into the bin with it.

I shall, however, retain more or less unread, my copy of Marlowe's 'Edward II', from which the title of the first book was taken. Line 60, Scene I, Act I: 'Shall with their goat feet dance an antic hay', with the antic hay being a sort of dance already old fashioned at the time Marlowe wrote the lines - which this morning look to be a very apposite place from which to have taken the title. A factlet first noticed about eight years ago at reference 3.

PS: I had completely forgotten that my copy of 'Edward II' had been borrowed from the Wetherspoon's library at Tooting. It seems a pity to return it; it seems unlikely that anyone there these days is going to want it on their shelves more than I do.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2018/01/midwife.html.

Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2018/01/rossopomodoro.html.

Reference 3: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=turin+garrett.