For
anyone who's spent the best part of his life living under a rock, and
I know you're there somewhere,
Baden-Powell started the Scout Movement in the early 1900s,
publishing his legendary Scouting
for Boys in
1908. This handy little volume is apparently the fourth best-selling
book of the entire twentieth century, with some 150 million copies
shifted; while the Scout Movement - well, that's into its second
century, and is as blithe and character-forming as ever, and if you
don't care for it, that's your business. But bear with me: the thing
I'm particularly keen on is this Rovering
to Success
(1922) - a guide written for young men rather than mere lads, in
which Lord Baden-Powell explains how to cope with the pitfalls of
adult life and emerge all the stronger from one's tribulations.
As
such, it is divided up into five handy sections:
I.
Horses
II.
Wine
III.
Women
IV.
Cuckoos and Humbugs
V.
Irreligion
To
be perfectly frank, I've only paid any attention to sections II and
III, but I'm sure the others are spot-on. The section on Women
contains (inter
alia)
much useful description of the centre of a flower's pistil, the
development of a chick in embryo, the care of one's teeth, the
imperishable line 'Constipation and neglect to keep the racial organ
cleaned daily are apt to cause slight irritation which leads to
trouble'
(my italics), and a jolly handy picture (see picture) which, as the
proverb has it, is worth a thousand words. But I digress.
On
the all-important subject of Wine, Lord Baden-Powell is typically to
the point. He hardly mentions it at all. 'I like a glass of good
wine,' he tells us, 'for its flavour, its colour and refreshment.'
The rest of the chapter on wine is spent telling us not
to drink, especially not that dreaded Third Glass, since 'The sugars
and other chemicals contained in the liquor don't in the end do you
great good.' After that, it's a succession of cautionary tales
involving 'The Between-Meals Glass', 'Temptation To Good Fellowship',
and 'The Solitary Soaker' (he 'sinks lower into a sodden existence as
a waster and outcast, till death comes and puts him out', since you
ask).
After
that, our Chief Scout rather lets himself go, taking it upon himself
to condemn 'Smoking', 'Over-Feeding', 'Over-Sleeping' and
'Over-Strength In Language', before striking a more optimistic
posture with sections on 'Self-Control', 'Truthfulness' and, somewhat
unnervingly, 'Auto-Suggestion', in which he announces that
'Self-mastery has now become a scientific study.' Well, it's not for
me to say whether it has or hasn't. The very idea has a ring of
Continental sharp practice about it, but if B-P says that it has its
uses, then I must keep my counsel.
At
any rate, after a good session of Self-Mastery, Self-Control and
Self-Cure, plus a hearty tramp on clear, open, downland, I now feel an
entirely new man. Liverish no more. One hundred per cent improved. And to celebrate my
restored condition, I have been treating myself to a very
self-controlled bottle of Grenache vin de pays d'Oc, suitably light
and astringent, which is now onto its third day, still
with a bit left in the bottle, a testimony to my capacity to know
when enough's enough. In passing, I should mention that this wine
tally does not
take into account the enormous quantity of generic Sauvignon Blanc I
have also been drinking in the last few days, as I do not consider
white wine to be a drink at all; and is therefore not applicable.
I
hope this clears the matter up. I remain
Yours
Ever
CJ
I read that as 'Rogering to Success'. I did.
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