Verse read at Chateau Lascombes June 1987

Background.

       Alain Maurel, a dear friend of many years, and the President of Alexis Lichine in Bordeaux, France had been very ill for a long time and unable to run the company.

         He had had a number of complicated operations and had recently recovered, was back in harness and hosted a magnificent black tie dinner for about a hundred international guests at Chateau Lascombes on the 20^th June 1987 during Vinexpo.

         Lichine had recently acquired some other wine firms and also Cognac Otard, the presidents of whom were also present.

            On the lawns of the Chateau, a tethered hot air balloon (Mongolfier) took the more intrepid guests aloft a few hundred feet while the rest of us sipped Champagne.

          I wrote this piece actually DURING the dinner and read it as part as my official thank you speech on behalf of the guests from abroad.  Since half the guests were French with a smattering of English and half were English-speaking with a smattering of French, I thought it might be amusing to compose it in "Franglais".

Alain is Back

Monsieur Maurel, cher Alain Maurel,

We're all si enchanté you're wonderfully well.

You look tellement chic, comme toujours, as we know,

C'est bien que you're back and now rarin' to go.

Cette nuit à Lascombes nous sommes sure to remember

From Juin to July, through October, November.

C'est charmant to witness la Famille Lichine

With Otard et Coto et Pasquier Desvignes.

The Mongolfier rose on its maiden voyage

With Champagne but it should have been Otard hors d'age.

We've been feted with vins de Bordeaux et elsewhere

And grub magnifique - the finest of fare.

You offered Lascombes in Doub-Magnums -  no less

From the 'seventy vintage - l'année de noblesse.

Le fromage was yummy and perfectly matched

With le Grand Vin de Maison to which we're attached.

So, merci mille fois pour une soirée si belle,

We love you to death, Cher Alain Maurel.

                                             Robin Blackburne, Bordeaux, 20 June 1987

Footnote:  Tragically Alain died, very young, within the year, of a totally unrelated illness

Joy and Robin Blackburne - Chateau Lascombes , June 1987

Robin Blackburne reads the above piece of Verse at Chateau Lascombes June 1987

The Trash Problem Solved

THE TRASH PROBLEM SOLVED   - Robin Blackburne

 Background.   By the 1980s, the trash problem in Bermuda was becoming acute and the Pembroke and Airport dumps were no longer able to handle garbage dumping at the current rate.  Government thus decided to seek quotes, from manufacturers around the world, for a huge incineration plant.  The Royal Gazette devoted hundreds of thousands of words, over several years, to the studies and the opinions of many conflicting parties. The contract was finally awarded to Von Roll, a Swiss company. 

(Notes: KBB is the “Keep Bermuda Beautiful” organization.  There is no cremation facility in Bermuda)

    This piece, composed in 1990, gives a feeling for the heated debate at the time.

What SHALL we do with all our trash?

And garbage by the ton ?

“ Why don't we turn it into cash? "

 Is easier said than done.

A thousand ancient pots and pans

           And mattresses galore,

And rusty Coca-Cola cans

Are strewn on land and shore,

The Airport is a favorite spot

To drop bisected cars

As if it were a parking lot

For cranks and axle bars.

The grease from leaking sumps must spill

And, through the meagre soil,

It leaches inch by inch until

Our water's mixed with oil.

The Pembroke dump at back of town

Is not the perfect place

To chuck that unstuffed eider-down

Or unstrung double-bass.

" Re-cycle"" says the K.B.B. "

 “Hear, Hear!” cries National Trust.

 “Incinerate the junk debris

It should by rights combust."

Thus spake the Minister of Works

In nineteen eighty-four.

So at the job a hundred clerks

Embarked upon the chore

Of finding just the very best

Incinerating plant.

(“ What luck " the Minister confessed

 “ If it cremates my aunt." )

So ads were placed around the world

From Denmark to Japan

And soon the mysteries unfurled

To form a mighty plan.

The bids were in, consultants hired

To make evaluation

Of how each plant achieved, when fired,

Complete incineration.

Every angle in the book

Was studied with due care –

Pollution and how long it took

Von Roll and Procedair

To burn a ton of dollar bills

Or melt Bermuda sand.

You’ve guessed of course, from them thar’ hills

Of Snowy Switzerland

The finalist has now emerged.

It is indeed Von Roll.

Our trusty Government has splurged.

This mega-casserole

Has cost a tidy buck or two.

But who are we to care ?

As long as it cremates Aunt Sue –

And never needs repair.

The Onion Patch - First piece composed aged 14

The first piece of verse I composed was at the request of the editor of the Sydney House magazine when i was at School at Oundle in England.  I had no idea what the subject might be, but it suddenly came to me that i should do something on John Scrutton, a contemporary at school and with whom had a love-hate relationship.

So here it is, with background

The Onion Patch   -  Robin Blackburne, aged 14

My first poem ( or rather verse) was composed in January 1948

I was then aged fourteen and at Sidney House, Oundle School.

John Scrutton and I did not really like eachother, and we had a sort of ongoing intellectual banter which ended up by my writing the following piece for the Sidney House Magazine, published in February 1948.

John Scrutton responded with some acerbic verse about me.  I have not been able to trace a copy of the original magazine.  And am still trying to contact John Scrutton in the hope he remembers the text.

Both pieces were published on opposite pages and the Editor entitled the two pieces The Onion Patch.

Here is the first stanza of my piece:

Who does this little bouncing baby try to imitate ?

Is it Shaw or Socrates he likes to quote and state

How Archimedes filled his bath – did not anticipate

That if he entered it when full the floor he’d irrigate

 Plus about four more stanzas, which I do not recall, the last words of each line all rhyming in “ate”

I seem to recall that some of these words included:

Irritate  (which he did me)

Over-weight  (which he was)

Conjugate (referring to school work – we were in the same class)

Mental state  (which he had)

Tolerate  ( I had difficulty in tolerating him)

Circumnavigate (not related to our relationship)

Ruminate (which he did)

The Compleat Winemaker's Guide

THE COMPLEAT WINE-MAKER'S GUIDE    -  Robin Blackburne

Making wine - there's nothing to it

Buy a book on how to do it.

Pick a bunch of grapes or two

Doesn't matter - white or blue.

Buy a tub some six feet wide

Remove the stalks and tip inside.

Now take off your shoes and socks

(This method's still quite orthodox).

Wash your feet in boiling water

(That's a thing you always oughter)

 Till your toes are sterilized;

 It's rather hot, don't be surprised.

Leap into the tub and soon

You're treading grapes all afternoon.

Squeeze and squelch between the toes

CO2 gets up your nose.

Soon the juice will start fermenting

Gently first - then unrelenting.

What takes place is roughly this,

 Mother nature's synthesis:

Yeast cells are quite primitive

But still need oxygen to live.

They cause the sugars to divide

Into Carbon Di-Oxide

And Alcohol - that lovely stuff

Of which we seldom get enough.

In case it's been too long since school

A simple sugar molecule

C6 H12 06 will thus

Give 2C2 H60 +

2C02 you may recall.

Did science drive you up the wall?

This magic chemical mutation

Is alcoholic fermentation.

The sugar's right - a perfect model.

 Messrs. Baumé, Brix and Twaddell

Tell us how to measure must

Hydrometer's the thing to trust.

To keep your fermentation slow

Hold the temperature quite low;

If it rises you've got troubles.

Now observe the tiny bubbles

Bursting through the frothing juice.

The yeasts are trying to reproduce.

But as the alcoholic strength

Goes up they perish. Then at length

Your wine is very nearly made;

It's cloudy still - don't be dismayed.

Separate the pips and skins

 Leaving all the vitamins.

Transfer to casks of fine French Oak

 And crack some eggs without the yolk.

Mix the egg whites with the wine.

Although this may sound asinine

Don't panic, you have nought to fear -

 In weeks your wine is crystal clear.

Taste it first; and next your task

 Is rack it off from cask to cask.

 Then taste again, please don't forget

To spit not drink - at least not yet.

Then leave your wine throughout the Winter

 Engage a trusty label-printer.

 Buy some bottles when you can

 And corks - they must be Catalan.

Rack again and in the Spring

You're ready to start bottling.

 Bash the corks in with a hammer.

 Make a last check of the grammar

On the labels; it won't do

 To have the syntax just off true.

"Mis en bouteilles à or au"?

You must be quite punctilio.

When you're sure it's perfect, you

 Can slap the labels on with glue.

 And spin the capsules on with ease,

Your job is done. Remember please

The cellar keep humidified

 And lay each bottle on its side.