I had a bit of a brush with the old cruet question when I was writing a book on Newport (Gwent, not RI) because one of the big attractions at a local stately home is a (Googleable) thing called the "Tredegar Salt". Its purchase for the nation was a real bone of contention hereabouts.
I wanted to include a photograph of it, but was told by the front office that I couldn’t take one without a special appointment. When I contacted the management to ask permission I was told that I would have to apply in writing and if it was to be for a commercial purpose – a book for instance – there would be a charge…
So I went to have a look at it, along with all the other punters, and then set out to describe it for my readers as best a poet may.
The Ballad of the Tredegar Salt
Oh, the Morgans of Tredegar, they were all but on the street
So they sold the family silver in a bid to make ends meet.
They sent the Salt to Sotheby’s and fairly well it did,
But Newport Council bought it back for fourteen thousand quid.
I thought it would be marvellous, a wonder of the world;
Perhaps a golden galleon with silver sails unfurled,
All artfully constructed on a raft of little wheels
To trundle down the table during under-seasoned meals.
But it’s not the tarty artefact to which the rich aspire;
It’s a tiny little, shiny little object of desire.
It’s half a salt-and-pepper set, a pillar with a dome,
Though marginally larger than the one I have at home.
It’s not at all spectacular; it’s functional and neat
And it teeters on the tablecloth on little ball-y feet.
I don’t know if the top comes off; I can’t see how you fill it
But since I shan’t be asked to dine this will not matter, will it?
Some say it’s solid silver; some say it’s parcel gilt
But it serves a sterling purpose and ensures no salt is spilt.
And it’s altogether better than the greaseproof paper twists
For which the gawpers grovel in their bags of noisy crisps…
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