When I was making plans for Six Things in 2026, it occurred to me that it might be quite fun to do a podcast version (because the world definitely needs more podcasts, right?) So once a month, instead of the regular Six Things newsletter, I’ll invite a guest to chat about six things of interest to them – things they find joyful, amusing, fascinating, comforting, magnificent, or just downright bizarre. My first guest is Jo Wyld, about whom you can find out more on her website or on Bluesky – or by, you know, listening to the podcast or reading the transcription below.
If you’re listening, I do apologise for the less-than-perfect sound quality – it’s not unlistenable, by any means, but I think we were dogged by a slightly shonky internet connection. I’ll try to make sure it’s better for future episodes.
You should have the option of downloading the podcast or copying and pasting the RSS link to play it in your usual podcast app (click the three dots to the right of the 30-second button above).
The music for the podcast was written and recorded by Oliver Parikian.
Lev Parikian: Hello and welcome to Six Things, a podcast for the curious. I’m Lev Parikian, and every month I invite a guest to bring six things that they find joyful, amusing, fascinating, comforting, magnificent, or just downright bizarre.
I’m delighted to welcome for this first episode someone who seems to wear so many hats that I’m beginning to wonder if there aren’t in fact at least two of her. It’s the writer, musician, composer, librettist, teacher, and administrator, the very lovely Joanna Wyld. Hello, Jo.
Jo Wyld: Hello, Lev.
Lev: I know you’ve written hundreds of concert programme notes, which is a task I undertake from time to time. And whenever I do it, I’m gripped by the clammy hand of dread. I dread writing things that are just too boringly dry. And I don’t feel I can be that irreverent, which is my usual writing style. So hats firmly off on that score. What’s your approach to writing a programme note?
Jo: Well, it’s interesting because when I started out, I think probably the approach was a little bit drier. There was the expectation – this was a good 20, 25 years ago – the expectation of aficionados reading programme notes. They were a little bit closer in style to the kind of essays I would have written at university. And then gradually things have softened over the years, become a bit more accessible. And actually, I have felt able to be a bit more irreverent and in particular, try to draw out the personalities of the composers.
Lev: I know you’ve occasionally slipped some things in that you hope will get through, your little references to personal favourite things. Was there a Spinal Tap one in one recently?
Jo: There was a Spinal Tap reference, yes. Yeah, because I was talking about the nature of keys and different keys and the idea of D minor being the saddest of all keys.
Lev: As well as your programme notes and various other things, I was struck when I was reading your biography on your website by your unseemly domination of one particular writing prize. Perhaps you could tell us a little bit about that.
Jo: Well, yes, this is going back a little bit. The Grove Dictionary of Music is as I know you know this very prestigious encyclopedia of music and it’s the go-to source really for a lot of research so I was quite well versed in the style of Grove articles, and they ran a competition for a while, an April fool’s competition, and the idea was that you would anonymously submit up to three articles in the style of Grove dictionary articles and I submitted three and as I say it was anonymous so they didn’t know how it was going to to work out, and to my astonishment when it came to the announcement of the the results I scrolled down and there was the fourth runner-up – great, looks great – and then the third runner-up – oh that’s me, oh brilliant – and then the second runner-up – also me – and then the winner – again, me – and I couldn’t really believe it.
Lev: That is very much in the style of old, back in the day, school music competitions where somebody who played three instruments to Grade Eight would just take all the prizes, the rest of us sobbing into our tea or orange juice.
Jo: Which was never me, I should say.
Lev Parikian: Winning the prizes or sobbing?
Jo: I was sobbing, definitely.
Lev: Definitely. So obviously music is one of our shared interests, because I’m a musician and you’re a musician and you’re in the world of music quite deeply. And it’s at the heart of a lot of what you’ve done. And that, I think, is partly reflected in your choice of things. But I also happen to know from our various conversations online that you have a deep love and an intimate knowledge of various comedy things, not least the wonderful Detectorists. And perhaps that is a nice little segue into thing number one. Perhaps you can tell us what thing number one is.
Thing 1 – Carnyx
Jo: Yes, perfect, with pleasure. So thing number one is the Carnyx. And yes, the Detectorists link is there because recently the most complete Carnyx in existence was unearthed in Norfolk. And one of the themes in Detectorists is this idea that our relationship with the past feels like time travel when we experience some of these artifacts, and that they really do take us back in time and connect us with the people of the past and for me the Carnyx – this instrument – does that so vividly in in a number of ways.
It’s a valveless brass instrument that would have been played vertically, so sort of sticking upright, and the mouth of it is usually in the shape of an animal head. And this was used by Celtic tribes, people like the Icenis, so Boudicca. And they would have played them to terrify the enemy and to warn them of their approach, is my understanding, but also to whip up a frenzy of excitement amongst the troops or to direct them amongst those who were going into battle.
And before we even get to the sound, I really love the design. And I think when we’re thinking about the past, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of being a little bit patronizing and assume that – this is the Iron Age we’re talking about – so assume that it was all very hand to mouth, very basic. And in fact, the design of it, it’s so effective because it’s beautiful to look at. I mean, I say that – I’ve seen reconstructions of them, of what they would have been like. There’s one that was discovered in Scotland that’s a boar’s head with… it has a wooden tongue on a spring so that it vibrates with the sound.
Lev: Even more terrifying.
Jo: Even more terrifying, but also kind of sophisticated and beautiful and we’re taking pride in these artifacts and these items. And it has a a hinged jaw as well, that particular Carnyx. There’s another with wide flappy ears – I think from France – they resonate with the sound, so again very sophisticated use of instrumental mechanics and then the technique of playing… I mean, as you know, with something like a valveless trumpet or horn you’d have to use, today, your embouchure, your diaphragm to support the sound and to vary the pitch, because you don’t have keys or valves, and so this is what these musicians at the time would have been doing. It’s a five octave range… It’s just… I could just go down a rabbit hole for hours and hours listening to reconstructions being played, because you have this haunting kind of ethereal quality when it’s played more gently, that apparently may have been used more in ritual. But then, yes, there are these guttural sounds, and then obviously much more blaring, forceful sounds.
And, you know, if you imagine a group of these, if you go and listen to a recording, then imagine one alone, I think it’s pretty forceful and downright. Imagine a bunch of these, perhaps, you know, you’re in your village and this is resounding across the valley. You would be terrified. You would be inclined to say, not today.
Lev: But also that fantastically rousing effect that any kind of fanfare has, that dual purpose, as you say, to terrify the opposition, but also to rouse your own troops.
I was looking at, it was on Digging for Britain, wasn’t it? Because there was one recently found in Norfolk last year which is the I think is it the most complete one ever found in Europe
Jo: That’s right yeah
Lev: And I was struck by several things. Firstly they did a demonstration and it sounded rather lovely, actually – obviously a very talented player was doing it. But thinking of the, as you say, the five octave range, and the production of it… to explain to non-musicians the difficulty involved in producing a sound from just a long tube of brass – thinking of the Last Post every year, and on Facebook there arealways messages from all the trumpeters i know saying good luck everyone doing the Last Post, because it is precarious stuff.
The thing that strikes me looking at reconstruction of it is how long it is, and not just that it’s long out in front of you, but it’s going vertically up, so you have the mouthpiece in your mouth and then it almost immediately curves up, and if you’re carrying that with both arms up, it must have been absolutely knackering, to hold something that’s, as you say, three or four metres long, probably upright, leaning backwards a bit to just to get the balance of it.
Jo: Incredible strength and stamina, yeah.
Lev: Yeah, it’s wonderful. When you mentioned it, I was not strongly aware of the Carnyx. I kind of knew what one was. And then I remembered where I’d first seen one, and it was inevitably in the Asterix books.
Jo: Yes.
Lev: And there’s a fantastic thing, which we’ll share in the show notes – a documentation of all the musical instruments in the Asterix books with illustrations from the books. And there were loads of brass instruments, Buccine and Cornu and all kinds of things. And the Carnyx does feature.
Jo: Yeah, I realised the same thing because I also grew up with Asterix books. And I love that Uderzo went to that level of detail.
Lev: Yeah, it’s fantastic.
Jo: As you say, yes, they were holding them upright. Incredible skill and strength. And yeah, the sound, I think, going back to this idea of time travel, it’s the fact that it’s... it does make you feel both as you say both scared and inspired in a way that’s quite primal and almost a little bit animal it’s like it sort of strips back the centuries of civilization and convention and tradition all those other things that we have had in between times, and calls to a part of our humanity that I think feels very common with with the people of the Iron Age because you feel presumably a very similar sensation – it’s very visceral and very fundamental to what they would have felt.
Lev: I can only imagine how excited the archaeologist must have been to dig it up – it’s not made of gold but it’s definitely a gold dance.
Thing 2 – Kohlosseum
Lev: Something that I enjoy and I know you enjoy, which is a really terrible pun.
Jo: Thing number two. So this is a place called the Kohlosseum. A museum in Schleswig-Holstein. Kohl is the German word for cabbage, and it’s a cabbage museum. And as you say, the name itself is delightful because it combines a couple of different languages at least, and it’s understandable in English. And also it’s a cabbage museum.
Lev: What’s not to like, as they say. I think also the name… I suppose it has a bit of a link with Thing 1, because the name itself does call back to Rome.
Jo: It does. It’s wonderful.
Lev: To have something devoted to the cabbage is individual and quite surprising, and they seem to sell a lot of Sauerkraut.
Jo: Yes, and their founder is known as the Sauerkraut Pope, which I think is incredible. I mean imagine introducing yourself, you know, “what do you do?”, “well you know I don’t like to brag, but I’m known as the Sauerkraut Pope”. “Wow.”
Lev: Is it self-appointed, do you think? Or did they have a vote? You know, we’re… in a conclave… You can imagine the smoke coming out of the top of the Kohlosseum… oh, yes, they’ve appointed another Sauerkraut Pope.
So, it seems like it’s predominantly the fermented version of cabbage, but I don’t know if they also stock fresh, savoys and reds and all sorts of other things.
Jo: I don’t know. My understanding of this place dates back quite a way because I went to Schleswig-Holstein on a holiday with some friends who live in Germany. And it was my friends and I, and our young children. And there was a discussion every day, you know, what we’re going to do. At one point, my friend Alex said there’s this place called the Kohlosseum – it’s a cabbage museum, Now, I can’t remember who wanted to go and who didn’t. I do remember that I did want to go.
Lev: But you were voted down. That, I’m afraid, reflects very badly on your companions.
Jo: Although, to be fair, these were young children. And I think we ended up going to a wildlife park or something, which, you know… But I’ve never forgotten the place because, as you say, it’s that it’s the pun that’s so memorable and so delightful.
Lev: There’s something, though, about, any place that’s named with a pun. I just think, you know, you see them. Quite often they’re hairdressers, aren’t they? Hair Apparent, and that sort of thing. And I sort of rooted out a few others because there’s something about the commitment to the bit. Because if you’re starting any kind of concern, you think, what are we going to call it? What are we doing? It’s going to be a fish and chip shop. So let’s just call it the local chippy, whatever it is. And to actually have the idea to call a fish and chip shop Frying Nemo is one thing. But then to get it past the stage where, you know, your business partners say, okay, that’s a really good name, and then you get the design stage and you get the signage made and you go, we’re going to go through with this. Yeah, absolutely. We’re going to go through with it.
There’s a couple of others I’ve found, which are awful and magnificent at the same time. There’s a laundry called Lord of the Rinse.
Jo: Oh.
Lev: Excellent. And a kebab shop called Abrakebabra. And the greatest of the hair salon genre, I think, is British Hairways. As I say, the commitment to go through it and spend money on the signage and then not regret it for a minute. And then you end up in some sort of best punning shops website and your life is made.
Thing 3 – Midsomer Murders
Lev: Let’s go on to something closer to home now, and something extremely cosy that I’m going to confess to you I’ve only ever encountered a couple of times. So I’m going to ask you to convince me into the world of Thing 3 and try and persuade me that I should take it up and become an uber-fan.
Jo: Well, OK, this is Midsomer Murders and... I’m a very recent convert, I should say. I’m not an expert. I haven’t yet reached that kind of lofty status in life. But to me, the show has, certainly at its best, it has a sort of Acorn Antiques quality. I mean, obviously, Victoria Wood was obsessed with Crossroads because of the kind of shonkiness of it. And although it’s not quite on that level, there is a camp there. There is a kind of knowing hamminess there that’s really entertaining. I happened upon it because my brother doesn’t really go in for streaming TV, he watches whatever’s on, and so he’d watched a couple of episodes and said – you know, visiting him – and we watched an episode. I was very skeptical, I thought oh this is just going to be run of the mill… and it culminated in a scene with John Nettles as Detective Barnaby, dressed in cowboy gear, having a sort of showdown in the middle of an Oxfordshire village, and I was kind of just fascinated and won over, because you could tell from the tone they knew exactly what they were doing… it was very self-aware, yeah…
Lev: We should probably at this point explain what Midsomer Murders is, because some people may not have heard of it and they may not have seen it. It feels also a particularly British thing and maybe even especially English thing. So maybe just the very basics.
Jo: Yes, of course. It’s a long standing detective series set in Midsomer, which is broadly Oxfordshire. And it’s lots of villages in the area. There’s a murder every episode, and it sort of fits into the category of cosy crime, but as i say there is also this slightly unhinged quality, and I think it began life probably trying to be quite good, and the casts are always exceptional, and the early episodes some of them are genuinely just quite good, and then it seems to just find this atmosphere of fun, and you get the impression that perhaps it almost might have become a kind of Morecambe & Wise situation where celebrities or famous actors were actually rather pleased to be invited on. It’s license for them to let their hair down and you get very fine actors absolutely hamming it up. So usually the scenario is groups of rival villagers who have a very special interest in something. And so there’s one episode with photographers and it’s analog versus digital and they’re behaving like the Jets and the Sharks. It’s very silly. Actors like Adrian Scarborough. And again, this is where I’m sure they do know that the audience is in on it, because he always commits anyway. And he’s playing this deranged bell ringer, and there’s a bit towards the end where he wins… they win a bell ringing competition that’s been going on… and you know he just roars with joy.
Lev: Excellent.
Jo: I’d love to see the outtakes because I’m sure everyone was corpsing. My favorite that I’ve discovered so far that I did share online was a fairly run-of-the-mill episode, but it’s Selina Cadell who’s always sparkling and everything, and – SPOILER ALERT – she meets her end by being – there’s no other way of putting it – popped into a tumble dryer. It just makes me giggle because you’ve got this almost Batman-esque, 1960s Batman kind of camera zoom onto John Nettles’ face, and it’s very kind of over the top, and he’s looking shocked. And then you’ve got this footage of, you know, very, very poor effects – probably deliberately, so it’s not too horrifying – Selina Cadell, bless her, you know, her face swirling round. She’s met this horror.
Lev: Well, I’m going to seek that episode out almost immediately.
For people who love this kind of thing, there’s a lot of it. It’s been going for 30 years or so.
Jo: There is a lot of it. And that’s the only drawback, that I think some of the more recent episodes, I think they’ve tried to return to something a little bit more serious. But I think there’s a kind of golden age of it, as far as I can tell, where there’s a sort of heyday of enjoyment and joy and silliness. Yeah, those are generally pretty good.
Lev: Excellent. The thing for me, I mean, I know it’s set, as you say, in probably Oxfordshire, although I think I’ve seen people say it might be Berkshire or… certainly what has been known as the Home Counties. I grew up in a village in Oxfordshire and I don’t recall there being – in the 20 years I lived there – I don’t recall there being a body count of any kind at all. There were no murders. “Oh, let’s move to this beautiful idyllic village… Bloody hell. People being bumped off all over the place. Let’s go back to the safe city.”
Thing 4 – Post Office Tower
Lev: Thing number four, which, as far as I know, is entirely unrelated to Midsomer Murders.
Jo: I think so, although there is perhaps a similar sense of joy in there. but we’ll see… It’s the Post Office Tower, or the BT Tower – this famous landmark. Again, I suppose the thing I enjoy about it is this sense of architectural playfulness. I mean, it had a very serious purpose and some very serious history, but it also has this Butlins revolving restaurant. It’s that juxtaposition that I find really quite fascinating.
Lev: Yeah, fantastic. So the post office tower, which again, Londoners know exactly what it is, I think. Built in 1964, and for the next 16 years, it was the tallest building in London. And if you’re of my generation, you will instantly think of an enormous white kitten, when you see the words Post Office Tower, because it became even more famous nationwide, featuring in an episode of The Goodies, that wonderful 1970s comedy show. An extremely large white kitten that had gone on the loose in London, and it ended up knocking over the Post Office Tower – as kittens do.
Jo: As they tend to.
Lev: Yeah, they tend to. And the other thing which you mentioned is that it had this revolving restaurant, which I didn’t know was managed by Butlins.
Jo: I didn’t until I’d dug a little deeper for this conversation. And again, the juxtaposition of that with its very serious purpose of carrying… it was a GPO microwave network carrying telecommunications traffic. And yes, it was built in a very sophisticated way to withstand wind pressure and so on. So it was quite cleverly designed and has this revolving restaurant inside. And I was really lucky because a few years ago, there was an opportunity to go and see a comedian who loves architecture, inside the Post Office, or BT Tower – I got to go and experience this which was…
Lev: …unutterably exciting because I… it closed down in the early 80s didn’t it, the restaurant?
Jo: Yeah, and, I mean its history is complex and sad, you know, in that there was a bomb planted there in 1971, and it had to close. It was also a very secretive, kind of fascinatingly secret location for a long time. Apparently it did appear on maps – it’s a myth that it didn’t, but it was designated an official secret.
Lev: it is 177 meters tall – quite difficult to hide a building like that. Literally visible from all over London. And this is of course pre-, you know, pre- The Shard, pre- The Gherkin, pre- all those massive ridiculous buildings in the City. It still remains this fantastic landmark.
Jo: So it had to be referred to as Location 23, apparently. And yeah, going inside was completely exciting. So we went in, looked around. There was an exhibition about its history. And then you go up in the lift, which is really fast.
Lev: There’s nothing that you can visit between ground floor and top, basically. Is that right?
Jo: No, no, that’s it. So you’re just in and you’re just enclosed and you’re rocketing up into the air, really. And even that just felt very exciting. And then we emerged from the lift and it was a wonderful sunny day, beautiful views and just this fantastic, you know, as you can imagine, panoramic views. Thoroughly enjoyed being there. And then there was a sort of build up to this moment when the floor was going to move. And it’s funny because when you when you pare it down, you know, you’re in a tall building and the restaurant, or the floor, is moving slightly. I mean, on the face of it, it’s not, it shouldn’t be that exciting. But again, it’s the playfulness.
Lev: Yeah.
Jo: It’s the idea of doing something for the fun of it.
Lev: Something inventive as well.
Jo: Yeah.
Lev: So, you know, because as you say, it’s got a very serious grown up purpose. So somebody, one of the architects presumably went, hang on, what can we do with this wonderful, very purposeful building? I know, let’s have a revolving restaurant.
Jo: That’s it. It’s so, so unusual. And it was fascinating, people’s reactions to it, because there were a few people, you know, quite sort of, urbane and kind of “okay fine”, you know, and I mean, I almost couldn’t contain my excitement, because I don’t go around being sort of toxically positive about everything, but this was… I do think finding those moments of joy in life and not worrying about cringe or cynicism just thinking, no, this takes me back to an almost childlike sense of wonder… Yeah, I am in the Post Office Tower and the floor is moving and it’s great
Lev; I think it’s been slightly shoved to one side as London landmarks go, because you’ve got, as I say, all the City landmarks, and you’ve got the London Eye and you’ve got the new Wembley, and other things dominating the skyline. So it would be nice to give it proper pride of place.
Jo: It still looks so distinctive, though. I think that’s what’s interesting, isn’t it? It’s still so recognisable and so distinct from these other buildings.
Lev: If only we could know exactly where it is.
Jo: That’s a problem, isn’t it? How do we get there?
Lev: We’ll never find it. Never, I tell you!
Thing 5 – Digesting Duck
Lev: I’m detecting, if I may say so, a distinct love of camp in your things so far. And I’m very pleased to report that Thing Number Five is absolutely leaning into the high camp. So perhaps you can tell us what it is and why.
Jo: Very much so. Again this is something that I think embodies that combination of human invention and fun, and that’s what camp is, isn’t it? Up to a point, anyway. This is the 18th century Digesting Duck. I came to this… you mentioned my programme notes earlier – I came to this via writing a programme note on Bach’s Musical Offering – he was asked to write that, or challenged to write that really, by Frederick II of Prussia, who was a flautist. Frederick’s flute teacher was Johann Joachim Quantz, who critiqued an automaton of a flute player by one Jacques de Vaucanson. And this flute player in itself sounds amazing because apparently it could play twelve different tunes. It was in the form of a shepherd, and my understanding is that the fingers worked. I think they might even have used real skin, but it was this working automaton flute player. But Vaucanson’s masterpiece was considered to be the Digesting Duck, which is duck-sized, cased in gold-plated copper, and it’s in a thousand parts. This was in 1764 and was considered so great that Voltaire described it as reflecting the glory of France.
Lev: Magnificent.
Jo: Which is magnificent. And it quacked. It could muddle water with its bill so that it looked like it was drinking water.
Lev: We’re interested in the whole digesting part.
Jo: OK, this is where it does get interesting, because it would take food from the hand of the operator and it would appear to swallow it with a gulping action and then excrete the digested version of the food. He described the interior as containing a small chemical laboratory. So according to him, it successfully digested what was put into its beak.
Lev: Yes. Are we to believe that he may have been lying on this count?
Jo: Yes. And in fact, it was an illusion very much like the marvellous mechanical mouse organ in Bagpuss, to be honest, because with that, you know, they put in breadcrumbs and butter beans and out come chocolate biscuits. And really, it’s the same kind of technique. But it wasn’t till over 100 years later that a stage magician looked at it closely.
Lev: So it hadn’t been taken apart or anything. Was it still going?
Jo: I’m not certain. And sadly, it doesn’t exist anymore. I think it may have been kind of shelved. I don’t think it was used for some time. But my understanding is that it was eventually found when it was taken apart, that there was a pre-prepared mixture of breadcrumbs dyed green and created into pellets.
Lev: Excellent, because that is definitely the colour of duck poo, as any walker in Regent’s Park will discover. So that’s fantastic. I love the invention of it. Automata are quite magnificent anyway. The imagination to come up with these things that actually work and move around. I love the idea that he thought people would believe it was actually doing it. And maybe they did. Maybe it seemed like magic.
Jo: Well, it seems that they did. And as I say, it was considered his masterpiece, even though his other creations were perhaps more authentic. But yeah, I think he does seem to have pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. And again, I kind of love the inventiveness of it. I’m also fascinated to imagine the responses, because on the one hand, you have this supposed sophistication and elegance of the design and the science of it, which seems to have been really celebrated. But did anyone not find it funny?
Lev: No, exactly. And also, as with anything mechanical, you think, well, what happens if it goes wrong? If it starts pooing out without actually having eaten anything, that surely gives the game away. But I suppose if it looks like a duck, eats like a duck, poos like a duck… it must have been a duck.
Jo: They must have believed it.
Thing 6 – Small Local Museums
Lev: So finally, Thing Number Six, a personal favourite of yours, I think.
Jo: Yes, this is something that in a way relates to Thing Number One, or, no, Number Two, in fact… the Kohlosseum – because it’s small local museums, and specifically British local museums, which I just I love to visit whenever I can. And it’s because they’re invariably... quite quirky, quite endearing, and again they make me laugh, but I should emphasize I’m not punching down, it’s not a sneering laughter at all, it’s that… you know, if you’re curating a large museum you’ll have a collection of treasures – you’re spoiled for choice, you know, as to how you exhibit those. But often with local museums there are often treasures there, but also sometimes you can tell that they’re kind of doing the best with what they’ve got.
Lev: Yeah, absolutely.
Jo: So human, and so delightful.
Lev: Because sometimes they do have, I mean, they’ll have a few rooms, won’t they? You know, quite often on the High Street, sort of tucked away at one end of the High Street. And they’ll have the one main thing that they’re quite justifiably really proud of, which is of local or sometimes even national interest and importance, historical value. And actually, you get little treasures when you delve deeper, go into the far corners, find things that normally might not have made it into a collection. But, you know, we’ve got shelves, we’ve got to fill them somehow.
Jo: Exactly that. And it’s sometimes the sense of whiplash as well, the juxtapositions you get between, as you say, their treasures and then something quite unexpected. So, I mean, one favourite example that I went to relatively recently is Wallingford’s museum.
Lev: Wallingford in Oxfordshire.
Jo: In Oxfordshire, yes. And i mean they’ve got an Agatha Christie link there, but whereas there are some obviously real Agatha Christie treasures, you know, one or two there, but they have things like a typewriter, with the words – you know, typed onto a piece of paper coming out of the typewriter – saying “Agatha Christie used a typewriter like this”.
Lev: That is lovely.
Jo: Yeah, and you know, I think they’ve got a collection of… it’s pretty much pens through the ages… it’s kind of, I think there’s maybe one or two quite old pens in this particular exhibit, but then it’s, you know, you’ve got a biro. That kind of thing. And then Thame – again, Oxfordshire – I mean, they’ve got a fantastic, genuinely fascinating exhibit about a Windrush hero. So, you know, really moving. And then there’s a fresco of a woman playing a lute, you know, some real beauties in there. And then you’ve got the Robin Gibb Memorial Gallery. And... again it’s a juxtaposition – the lovingly put together gallery of this the Bee Gee, you know, it’s his family paying tribute, so it’s a delightful thing, but it’s also just the fact that you’ve gone from you know there’s lots of Civil War history, and then suddenly you’re looking at medallions brooches, you know his famous glasses, and it’s just
Lev: …completely incongruous and a wonderful reminder of the rich tapestry of life.
Jo: One that really stays in the memory is Petersfield Museum, which is very well curated, very elegant, nicely put together, lots of very neat cabinets. This is really well done. It doesn’t have the sort of homemade feel that some museums have. And then you find yourself in the Gyles Brandreth Jumper Collection. Well, as I understand, it is on tour around the country.
Lev: Oh, is it?
Jo: So it might not be at Petersfield any more. But various museums are treated to having, you know, this, again, very camp collection.
Lev: And he’s not accompanying the jumpers on tour?
Jo: Not as far as I know, sadly.
Lev: This is very disappointing. I expected better from him. But yes, if you’re going to have a collection of jumpers, his jumpers would be among the first you’d go for.
Jo: I think so.
Lev: I think certainly, I mean, I remember growing up as a child – obviously, again, old fart time – “we didn’t have the television, we didn’t have computers, didn’t have anything”. But there was… something that stayed with me through my so-called adulthood is this interest in really little tiny nothings, but putting them… collecting them and just putting them somewhere in a little cabinet – a cabinet of curiosities. And it was on the landing outside my bedroom – it was this little chest that had things I’d found… it would be, you know, a rubbishy old tennis ball and, a blackbird’s skull, and a stone that I found interesting, and a twig covered in lichen. But it’s just this… encouraging, something to look at the world with interest, at least, and sometimes wonder and sometimes actual disgust or whatever it is. But putting them all together in one place… what turned out to be very incongruous things. There was one thing we had, it was a bottle that my mum had dug up in the garden. And it was a very tiny glass bottle. and it had “POISON” written on it. And I found this fascinating, that there was such a thing as a bottle that had “POISON” on it. What happened to the poison? Did it kill somebody? What was its history?
Jo: Exactly it’s that curiosity. I mean, it’s not quite the same, but when I was small, I did gather together some items from our house and create tiny little labels and make a little museum. And my parents very patiently were dragged around – all very familiar to them!
Lev: “Let me show you round my museum. Here we’ve got a cup.”
Jo: It was a little bit like that – they were very patient – but I think there is a slightly more almost serious point, perhaps, to it, which is – again going back to childhood – my brothers and i used to love going to the Greenwich Maritime Museum, which is not a small local museum, honestly – it’s a big museum…
Lev: …and i still love going to it.
Jo: It’s wonderful, and I still love going to it too, but it did have at the time – I don’t know if you remember – the Reliant steam tug, and that you could just go around and you could see all the workings of it – the pistons and the wheel, and it had quite a sort of raw quality to it ,and it wasn’t particularly high tech, but our imaginations were really captured by that. And then when it was overhauled – of course, it had to be, and I understand how these things work – but there was also a slight sense of loss that it became shinier and perhaps more high tech. But actually, especially as children, I think you do just sometimes want something that’s just very real that you can explore. And the same thing happened with my daughter. We used to go to the Durham Museum regularly, the local museum there, which used to be in a watermill. And it was not at all shiny or high tech. But she could spend hours there, really, just that, you know, they had a little sandpit where you could pretend to be an archaeologist, and you know, there was an honesty box where I could make myself a cup of tea and get a biscuit and it almost felt like being in someone’s home… it was really gorgeous. And then I remember her disgust when they supposedly upgraded it to the university premises, and it was much shinier, and I suppose it’s that lesson of, we assume – you know, the technology today – we assume that everything, if it’s new, that it must be better and not always…
Lev: But of course, that technology was once shiny and people were going, “Oh, well, I preferred it when they had the old things, where you had to move the water yourself. None of this mill nonsense.”
Jo: Of course.
Lev: Well, we’re surfing a very dangerous wave of nostalgia here.
Jo: Yeah.
Lev: I think we should probably draw things to a conclusion. Thank you so much for bringing this wonderful collection – very much in the spirit of Six Things. And we’ll put some things in the notes so that people can click on links and watch things and experience things and find out more about them if they want. You can find Jo on Bluesky, and she has a website and you can find out more about this episode’s featured things in the show notes, and I hope they bring you as much pleasure as they’ve brought me. So thank you so much to Joe for being my first guest in the Six Things podcast.
Jo: Thanks so much, Lev. It’s been a real pleasure.
Lev: Thank you for listening and see you next month for six more excellent and fascinating things. Bye.
