Exploring the life of an explorer

Baffin Island, not to mention Baffin Bay, is named after a man named William Baffin who was named after his father, who was named after his father, who was named after his father, who was named after his mother, who unfortunately looked like a man.

It is perhaps no coincidence that Baffin Island is named after a man who was in many ways an island himself. Or was he rather, as John Donne would have said, “a piece of the continent, a part of the main if a clod be washed away by the sea”?

While the truth is we will never know, the question is will we ever care? All we know is that William Baffin was born in 1584, a small child of humble origin. He was born in a shoe on Brick Lane, his father was a cobbler, his mother was insane. You’d have to be to marry a cobbler, people used to say. Nowadays, there’s much less stigma attached to mending shoes, it’s just like being gay. His parents were impoverished, poor and broke, they had nothing to eat; nevertheless William was a fussy eater and his father used to beat him. He was a punctilious man, yes, he was most attentive to punctilios, or fine points of etiquette and would only ever beat his son with his right hand.

“Eat your peas, young William Baffin, or I will beat you soundly,” he would say.

“No, father, I do not like peas,” William Baffin would reply without missing a beat.

“You will eat your peas and you will eat them with a fork and a fork only. Woe betide you if you push them onto your fork with a knife. It’s a question of etiquette”.

“Why don’t you stick your fork up your arse and go take a poke?” replied William Baffin. “That is not so much a question of etiquette as rhetoric.”

Then his father would promptly beat him with a shoe, (the right one of course) an ordinary shoe without a buckle, as buckles had not yet been invented. They were an important innovation, no doubt but one, which did not appear until the middle of the 17th century. In his diary on January 22nd 1660 Samuel Pepys wrote:

“This day I began to put on buckles to my shoes.”

Sadly William Baffin would not live long enough to have this pleasure.

William Baffin grew tired of his father beating him and one day requested that he be beaten by his mother instead. His mother was much less punctilious than his father and simply gave him a slap round the face and told him to stop being such a cheeky so and so.

William Baffin hated his parents, in particular his mother and father, and longed to distance himself from them. He considered the best way of doing this would be to go away, preferably as far away as possible, and if this were not possible, then really quite far would have to suffice.

William Baffin left home early one morning and with him he took one of his father’s shoes. He felt sure this would vex him greatly and he chuckled to himself as he made his way to the docks and indeed the rest of his life. While literally waiting for his ship to come in, William Baffin meditated on one of the great metaphysical conundrums of all time; if you had a different father would you be the same person and more to the point would you have the same shoes?

William Baffin concluded that he would be half a different person and one of his shoes would be the same. From that moment onwards and for no good reason whatsoever William Baffin dreamed of having only one leg.

For many years William Baffin lived the life of a wandering soul. He was an itinerant spirit, a travelling vagabond, a nomad in no-man’s land. Whatever that means. He lived out of a suitcase, not in a suitcase but out of a suitcase. He might have been able to live in a suitcase when he was a small child but he was no longer a small child, he was a fully-grown man with a regular sized suitcase if you can imagine such a thing, in the spring of 1617.

Yes, he was a fully-grown man, with a fully-grown suitcase, which was essentially his home. He didn’t have many possessions: “if you are not careful, your possessions will possess you”, he would have said. But he didn’t, he didn’t say anything, you see he didn’t speak very much at all. He was eloquent, yes there was no doubt about that but hardly loquacious. If anything, he was more laconic than loquacious, he had the utmost respect for the sanctity of language, the precious nature of words and was anxious to do the right thing by them. Whatever that means.

William Baffin died on January 23 1622. As well as Baffin Bay and Baffin Island, there is also a flower named after him: a scentless rose, to commemorate the fact that the poor chap had no nose.

Saturnalia

Selfless Goodge

Today Frederick Goodge directed traffic, not like Oscar winner Steven Soderburgh, more like a brightly coloured poorly paid steward.

Then he went home and looked in the mirror. Imagine his surprise when he discovered he was not a real person, but actually someone else's alter ego! His self esteem plummeted so he had some chocolate, a boost to be precise and he began to feel better about himself again.

Waxing Squirrel

Today, October 28 2009, Frederick Goodge had a day off from work (science museum, space attendant) so he went to the park and had his legs waxed by a squirrel.
It was a good day, sunny.
Autumn sunshine is Frederick's favourite kind of sunshine, joyous, not too hot and now Frederick doesn't have to shave his legs for at least 6 months. Peace.

Whaam!

Today Frederick Goodge had a run-in with the police, an encounter which can only be described as

onomatopoeiac!

Fred was riding his bicycle down to the Streatham Ice Rink for ice hockey practice when he was approached by a police car for going too fast. Fred said with a winsome flick of his eyebrows "That was nothing, you should see me when I get my skates on!"

The policeman didn't know what this meant, not privy to Fred's intended destination, and thought Fred was being flippant. Fred was then asked to stop pedalling and fill in a form with details of his family going back to the Doomsday Book including how many pigs his Great Great Great Great Great Great Uncle Derek used to have. Fred thought this information was quite interesting but surely irrelevant and the policeman, who as it turned out, was only temping, replied that it was sacred police procedure and absolutely not to be questioned.
Fred complied but secretly sniggered in his head.

Then the policeman, who as it turned out, was only joking about only temping but was too embarrassed to admit that he had actually wanted to be a policeman, said: " Now I just need some proof of I.D, a recital of a Shakespearean sonnet (not one of the gay ones) and confirmation one way or another of whether there is a God."

Fred tossed and turned and eventually came up with the goods, wondering what the rigorous procedure might be for anything more serious than riding a bike quite fast.

Then he went to ice hockey practice and let in 6 goals because he was distracted by the enormous pettiness of everything. His team mates didn't really care as they were too busy complaining to the referee that the ice wasn't icy enough.

London Docklands Museum

Today Frederick Goodge received an emergency call (red phone) and was asked to come immediately to the London Docklands Museum. Frederick said "You bet, Cheeky Boo", then put down his (fishing) rod, jumped on his (push) bike and shot off in the direction of West India (Quay).

Round the roundabout and once more for luck, the superstitious but highly reliable Frederick Goodge arrived at the museum in plenty of time but went in to the wrong entrance and was mistaken for an ordinary member of the public (Joe or Edna) and nearly charged 5 pounds! Frederick explained himself and was motioned into the secret staff headquarters, the room with the big sign on the door clearly marked "Secret staff room: staff only no ordinary Joes or Ednas".

Frederick was handed a walkie-talkie for the first time in his life, he was very excited but he didn't need to use it as there were no emergencies or even visitors that quiet Tuesday afternoon.
Then Frederick gave back the walkie-talkie, faxed over his timesheet and left, thinking all about what he had learned in the museum, like how London used to smell really bad in the 1700s and now it doesn't smell so bad but it is full of annoying people in suits, so swings and roundabouts, if you see what I mean, and then Frederick went round the roundabout and home.

October 16 2009

Frederick Goodge awoke with aplomb. No, make that a plumb. Yes, recently he had taken to going to bed with pieces of fruit the night before in order to avail himself of a tasty, wholesome breakfast without having to get out of bed.

He bit into his plumb and drew back the curtain. It was pouring with rain but as far as Fred was concerned, it was just a drizzle. Boy was he in good mood today! His spirits hadn't been so high since the last day of high school, when Fred finished 6th in the 70 metre dash, beating his personal best by actually finishing the race and then going to the local wetherspoons with his friend Archie Hoodwinkle for a burger and a pint of beer for under a pound.

Fred finished his plumb, leapt out of bed and landed in his clothes, which had been laid out the night before to save time. He decided he wouldn't shower today as it was raining (albeit only a drizzle, perhaps a splash at the sink?) and he had several (4) things to do, which is a lot for Fred as his typical day entails only 1 or 2 things at the most.

the 4 things Fred had to do:

1. shave
2. buy some milk
3. fill in an online form to do with N.I contributions
4. go and see some jazz