[Julie Steiner]

Sigh. Just like old times--I spent over an hour composing a reply directly into the "Reply to Thread" window, hit "Send", and found I'd been timed out...and going back a window didn't retrieve the lost text, as it sometimes does...so frustrating....

Anyhoo, my sincere thanks to Patricia, Ann, John, Mary, and the Informative and Generous Person Who PMed me.

I am now certain that Maz's reference to "Roobarb County" is specific to Yorkshire, and not a general reference to rural areas such as the hick town I grew up in, which is how I'd heard the term used colloquially in America, more than once. Apparently Yorkshire forced rhubarb is so famous that it has protected designation of origin status, like Champagne sparkling wine and Stilton cheese.

Maz often used the Yorkshire word for "thanks" in her messages, so it's my turn now. Ta.

I am not aware of any specific connection that Maz may have had to Yorkshire. Her family lived in London (Marylebone and Maida Vale) until the 1970's, then in Slough and Bracknell (1978) before moving to Poole in the 1980's. She had spent her childhood summers with her father's family in Bedwellty, Wales, and briefly attended Cardiff University. And in comments she made several years before writing "Opening a Jar of Dead Sea Mud", she wrote, "When I was six, I was sent to convalesce after an illness to a place in Herne Bay run by nuns – it was like Stalag 17." This became "Stalag Kent" in the sonnet.

Interestingly (to me, at least), a comment about pigs that she made some years before writing "Fer Blossom" concerns Wales, not Yorkshire:

***

I find it funny how we’re nutty about some animals, but regard others as without feelings.

I had a friend in Wales who had a pig as a pet – not the trendy Vietnamese pot-belly, just a plain old farm sow he had picked up as a runt to save from the chop. She was affectionate and house-trained and used to snore quietly lying at his feet while he watched tv. He took her out for walks and she used to go out into the garden, trot round on an inspection tour, and come back in and give him a progress report with funny little grunts. He reckoned she was more intelligent than any dog, and more fastidious too.

Yet pigs are crammed into cramped filthy conditions, with no outlet for their curiosity and intelligence, then slaughtered and sliced, and very few people think anything about it. How does this hierarchy of concern come about? Is it just convenience?

Kind regards,
grasshopper

(2002-05-07)