Skip to main content

A bit late...


Worth a gander is the blog of a very interesting fellow living in Westminster, London, describing his daily experiences of music, women, pubs and clubs, the usual stuff. Only this blog is concerned with events that took place 343 years ago.

Now, the blog has apparently been going since 2003, but I’ve only just stumbled across it. You’ve probably heard of the diaries of Samuel Pepys, the renowned seventeenth century diarist. Beginning his diary at a critical point in the history of Britain (1660), Pepys left perhaps the most important primary source for the English Restoration period.

What makes Pypes so interesting outside of academia is the way that he recorded his daily life for almost ten years with remarkable honesty. No doubt this was made easier with the assumption that his thoughts would not become available for open discussion! Yet he recorded the women that he pursued, his friends, his enemies, and his public and private dealings. As with all great diaries, he reveals his jealousies, insecurities, trivial concerns, and his fractious relationship with his wife.

It also stands as an essential account of London in the 1660s. From very close, he offers a personal account of the restoration of the monarchy, the Great Plague of London of 1665, the Great Fire of London of 1666, and the arrival of the Dutch fleet and other events of the Second Anglo-Dutch War 1665–7. The union of his observations on politics and national events, alongside the very candid record of everyday life is almost beyond compare.

So please have a look at the diary of Samuel Pepys.

Comments

I just love that his name is pronounced "Peeps." OK, well I'm a children's librarian so what would you expect?
Kris McCracken said…
He's well worth it, old Sam. Yesterday's entry had him out to dinner, where the entertainment was 'testing' a new poison out on a dog!

Good times.

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.