nos sumus una familia

Declaring its independence on this day in 1977, residents of a triangle of streets in Notting Dale, West London formed the Free Independent Republic of Frestonia, inspired by Freetown Christiania in Copenhagen and the comedy Passport to Pimlico—putting the matter to a referendum with an overwhelming majority in favour of secession and many of those further advocating joining the European Economic Community.
Learning that the city council had designs on redeveloping the neighbourhood, the community of artists and squatters originally tried as a whole adopting the same surname (we are all one family, like the motto above)—Bramley, one of the roads forming the border of the micronation (see previously), so the city would be compelled to re-house them collectively, though that ploy failed. Lasting until 1982, the fully-functional state dissolved once an acceptable deal was reached with the developers—though not to everyone’s satisfaction. Architecturally, the art gallery The People’s Hall is all that remains from the days of independence—which also served as recording, rehearsal studios for The Clash and Motörhead. More to explore from Weird Universe at the link above.

a duet for two lutenists but just one lute

From the always resourceful Kottke, we are serenaded with a selection (juried by the BBC) of the fifteen strangest compositions in the classical canon, not only for their scoring and instrumentation but also for how they were performed—like the Helicopter String Quartet (Hubschrauber-Streichquartett) by Karlheiz Stockhausen (see previously)—or their subject matter like Lord Berners’ jaunty Funeral March for a Rich Aunt or Gioachino Rossini’s Duetto buffo di due gatti, that is his Cat Duet that made fun of stage divas and has two sopranos mewing at one another. Our favourite story, however, came from Leopold Mozart, who had a reputation for being a domineering stage father only interesting in living vicariously by driving his son Wolfgang Amadeus and daughter Nannerl to success, that the Toy Symphony (1760, Kindersinfonie oder Berchtesgaden-Musik) he wrote seemed so out of character that for years it was attributed to the far more genial and gregarious Joseph Haydn.

tendencies for everybody

Via Strange Company, we learn that our preoccupation with royal births and impatience for the latest (or perhaps yet to come) gossip has informed the daily horoscope column.

As one shrewd editor found himself short on reporting with the birth of another grandchild of the monarch, the Sunday Express decided to engage celebrated astrologer R.H. Naylor (their second-choice after a mystic called Cheiro, after cheiromancy—that is palmistry—had to turn down the newspaper) to do a forecast for the yet-unborn Princess Margaret (†2002, appearing in print three days after her birth in August 1930—I surmise she was a Leo) and as it were tell her adventurous (the Queen’s younger sister lived up to these predictions vague and universally applicable as they were) life backwards and let her age into her fortune. Using the commission to develop his nascent technique of solar signs—that is a simplified method based on one’s birth and the house of the zodiac that the sun was in, Naylor was able to offer readers both a general personality assessment and a daily prognostication. After having predicted the crash of an airship, Naylor was criticised for failing to forecast World War II. His column nonetheless remained popular and spawned many imitators.

necromantic tripos

Buried in a 1925 newsletter from Trinity College, Cambridge we are treated to a fanciful syllabus from analytic realist Charles Dunbar Broad, whom like his contemporary colleagues Bertrand Russell (previously here and here) and G. E. Moore, would have rejected as quickly and wholly as the Platonic forms, that was surely contributed to amuse his students and reads very much like a modern wizarding 101 with courses in magic, alchemy and astrology—with practica dedicated to scrying, rhabdomancy and the interpretation of entrails—to name a few.

A special disclaimer section follows of prohibitions that enrolees are to adhere to, for instance on the Evocation of Elementals: Owing to the terms of the fire-insurance on the College buildings it is necessary to prohibit absolutely the evocation of Salamanders in rooms in College. It is an immemorial rule of the College that the baths are “places for ablution and not for the evocation of Undines.” “No member of the college may make, have in his possession, melt, or transfix a mommet [poppet, a voodoo doll] of the Master or of any of the Fellows, Chaplains, Librarian, or Organist. Bedmakers have instructions to report immediately to the Dean of College the presence of any mommet that they find.” And on Levitation and Bilocation, they are “strictly forbidden in Hall, Chapel, the Library, and during lectures.” All in all, this seems like a pretty fun, charming curriculum and Broad’s pupils must have gotten a kick out of it.

nutshell studies revisited

Our thanks to Open Culture for giving us the opportunity to return to the murderous miniature dioramas of Frances Glessner Lee, which with the help of a generous endowment for Harvard University helped to establish and transform the art and science of forensic analysis and post mortem medicine. Building on her infatuation with detective novels, Lee shows that not all crime scenes betray an open-and-shut-case, even at a diminutive one-twelfth the scale. Much more to explore at the links above.

cospar id 1998-067a

Though still tethered to Earth in low-orbit, this day in 2000 marked the last day that there was no enduring human presence in outer space. The Soyuz TM-31 launched on the next day with the first resident crew for the International Space Station,  docking three days later and which has been continuously crewed ever since. The first three joined modules were called Zvezda, Unity and Zarya and were placed in orbit in 1998 (it has presently expanded to an array of fourteen with additional solar cells, inflatable segments and experimental bays) and the station’s mission is expected to last at least until 2030.

mrs bart’s mom

Whereas we’ve heard of the conventions of patronymic names (see also), we hadn’t realised our not uncommon encounters with the phenomenon of teknonymy (from the Greek τέκνον for the child) and also known as a paedonymic title—that is, the formalised practise, the honorific (rather than an downgrade or identity) of referring to parents by the names of their offspring. Common to some Austronesian, Indonesian, Taiwanese aboriginals, south-eastern Africa and in some tradition in the Islamic world, fathers are given the title Abu/Baba/Pak plus the given name of their first born with the mothers bestowed with Umm/Mama/Mak respectively.

6x6

mother lode: the Hubble Space Telescope spies a metal ore asteroid worth an estimated ten-thousand times the global economy of 2019 (previously)—via Slashdot  

8800 blue lick road: one of the best accidental, immersive gaming experiences of the year is this virtual real estate tour 

franchisement: we enjoyed this pairing of articles about the “I Voted!” stickers—first with an overview of their contested origins as a badge of participation once democracy moved towards the secret ballot and the civics exercise that has artists reimagine them  

lorembarnak: a Québécois curse (see previously) generator—via Things Magazine  

seaweeding: Victorian-era hobby lends insight on our changed oceans  

one parsec: a breath-taking visualisation of ten million stars at the centre of the Milky Way