Monthly Archives: September 2016

So many badges

We were sent a whole box of vintage Marjon badges. They are blue with gold coat-of-arms and it says ‘blue’ at the top. What were they for? I’ve no idea. They are all unused and unopened. Did I mention that there is a WHOLE box of those?:-)

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Old Marjon Friends

If you’re ‘in’ with Marjon and its news you already know that a plaque was unveliled on 1st of September at the former site in Chelsea. If you ask me a plaque like that was long overdue since there is one at the site of former St.John’s College. Anyway, this special occasion was an opportunity for the ‘old guard’ of Marjon graduates to come over and meet, especially those from the years 1956-1959.
Think about the person that you’ve known and been friends since forever. How long had it been? 20 years? 30 years? More than that? These guys had been friends for sixty years. Longer than I have been alive. Longer than my parents been alive. At the times when there been no internet those guys met regularly once a year, keeping up with each other. Marjon had made them friends for life. And during that day it was as if the 60 years never happened. The oldtimers walked the grounds with a youthful spring in their steps and pointed at old photos calling: ‘That’s me!’ They even sat down to hear a lecture just as they did back then.
Marjon left lasting impression on those people’s lives. And it continues to do so even now.
They made this nifty cover for the plaque and sewn a Marjon tie to it!

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When the students are gone

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Social realism doesn’t have the best of reputation due to its history of being used as a propaganda tool. But sometimes social realism is just life that happens around us and the art is there to immortalize it. Take this photo of Marjon cafeteria. I assume its in the Chelsea site, before the move to Plymouth. Just look at this moment: when the students are all gone, the three cafeteria workers are sitting down for a break and a chat. One is clearly enjoying her cigarette, when the only places that it was forbidden was the hospital and the church. The second seems to be engrossed, perhaps in what the third one is saying. The students may be gone, but the life of a school goes on. Too bad I don’t know who took the picture because I wish to know more about it. Do you know who took it? Were you the one that took it? Tell me all about it.

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Chuck? Donate? Keep?

 

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Pretty illustration in a pretty book. Too bad it’s Fielding

We have many books that found their way into the archives from the library and they are going to stay by a virtue of being authored by one of our students or staff. Others are here because they mention Marjon is some way. But there are other books that wander by, the ones that won’t stay. They are usually withdrawals from the library, so called ‘weeds’. They might be outdated, they might be damaged or they simply haven’t been checked out for a long time. Those don’t have place in the archives. But do they have a place somewhere else?
I was digging through such a pile recently and found a beautifully bound book. The pattern on the binding had caught my eye so I opened it. To my dismay the pretty book was The History of Tom Jones by Fielding. I hate Fielding. Yes, he was very influential. Yes, he was one of the fathers of modern novel. Yes, he was a smart guy that revolutionized the police force (Bow Street Runners anyone?). But I absolutely can’t stand the way he writes. That makes this pretty book an equivalent of a paperweight to me. I can’t read it.
But then, it’s still a beautiful artefact. It’s well preserved and it looks like there was a mistake in print of the introduction. The printed annotation mentions it, but it’s seems like somebody made corrections by hand (what would be the total copies printed if they did that?). So what would you do with a beautiful paperweight like that? Chuck away? The bibliophile in me howls for blood at this thought. Keep it and never read? The pragmatic in me scoffs at that? Donate? If I only knew somebody that enjoys Fielding… What would you do?

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Filed under books, inner workings