Gambler, gardener and Irish aviation pioneer:THE PIONEERING Irish aviator Lilian Bland has been all but forgotten, eclipsed by the daring exploits of later female pilots, such as Amelia Earhart. But a century ago today Bland became the first woman to design, build and fly her own aircraft as she took to the skies over Co Antrim in her home-made biplane, Mayfly. To mark the centenary, a plaque will be unveiled at the deer park at Lord O'Neill's estate in Randalstown, scene of Bland's triumph, and a wreath will be laid at her grave at Sennan, in Cornwall, where she died in 1971, at the age of 92.
Even before she took the surprising decision to make and fly her own plane, Bland had developed quite a reputation for her devil-may-care exploits and insouciant approach to the social mores of the times. Granddaughter of a Belfast curate, she scandalised her relations by smoking, drinking and riding a horse astride. Guy Warner of Ulster Aviation Society describes how Bland would lie under hedges at Tobercorran House in Carnmoney, where she lived with her widowed father, taking potshots at poachers.
Bland's desire to fly was sparked when she received a postcard from her uncle celebrating Louis Blériot's 1909 flight across the English Channel. Determined to make her own aircraft, she spent the winter of 1909-10 constructing a glider. In the early spring of 1910, accompanied by four police constables she had persuaded to help her, Bland took her creation to the top of Carnmoney Hill. When the wind lifted the plane – and with it the four men, grimly hanging on – she knew she could risk adding an engine. Ever resourceful, Bland used her deaf aunt's ear trumpet and a whiskey bottle to feed in the petrol. Now all she needed was a suitably large field for Mayflyto make its maiden flight.
Lord O'Neill offered a stretch of parkland, which came complete with a resident bull; the irrepressible Bland said its presence simply gave her an even greater inducement to take off. On a late summer's day, and seemingly as much by Bland's willpower as by aeronautical design, Mayflydid fly, briefly but spectacularly.
Alarmed by his daughter's antics, Bland's father promised to buy her a car if she would stop. The bribe worked: delighted by her new Model T, bought in Dublin, Bland set up the North's first Ford dealership. She never returned to flying, settling in Canada and then Cornwall, where by her own account she devoted the rest of her life to gambling, painting and gardening.
Finola Meredith
Yum . . . human offcuts, devil's breath and eating on the toilet
Mystery meat: Weird food, from the sublime to the tasteless, is taking hold among chefs eager to set themselves apart. A Berlin restaurant, Filme, has been seeking volunteers to contribute bits of themselves to its kitchen. Potential donors of testicles, ears and other dispensable body parts will have their hospital expenses paid, but they must offer their tissue for nothing.
It’s probably a publicity stunt – and a crass one, given that in 2006 a cannibal who ate a Berliner was sentenced to life – but it gives new meaning to the term “mystery meat”.
Dig in: In Japan they practise faux cannibalism with a dish called nyotaimori("female body plate"). An alarmingly realistic corpse made of dough is wheeled to your table on a hospital trolley. Red sauce bleeds out when diners cut into the lady's abdomen and dig around for a selection of edible "organs".
Another Japanese restaurant has customers sit on toilets to eat soft-serve chocolate ice cream in commode-shaped bowls while using toilet rolls as napkins and drinking out of “urinals”.
Oyster puddles: But elegant versions of theatrical dining can put restaurants among the best in the world. In Modena, Massimo Bottura serves “air” evolved from Parmesan, plus frozen “puddles” of oyster juice that reveal raw seafood when cracked open. The chef has two Michelin stars.
Carnal sin: To experiment at home, you could try Laura Santtini's alchemical larder, sold at Selfridges. Its sprays and dusts have names like Devil's Breath; Angel Mist Broken Halos; and Carnal Sin. No matter how exalted foodies believe their taste to be, it's not enough any more to cook with Persian rose petals, saffron or smoked paprika. To really impress you need to cook with sumac or devil's penis chilli.
Kate Holmquist
Bye-bye Blockbuster, so long DVD
WHICH OVERHEATED metaphor should we use for the difficulties at Blockbuster, the US movie rental chain. Are we talking about El Alamein? Churchill said something about “the end of the beginning” when celebrating that desert victory. No. It looks as if the demise of video rental – and the decreasing viability of films on discs – has progressed a tad farther than that.
When news emerged that the behemoth of home entertainment (which in Ireland owned Xtra-vision until last year) was struggling beneath debts of €800 million, it seemed, if not quite Waterloo for rental shops, then Stalingrad (to mix our military metaphors).
The DVD has become so devalued – selling for €20 in its first month on release, then €5.99 everywhere – that it seems crazy to rent one. To justify such an operation any sensible movie fans would, surely, demand that, after browsing a near limitless supply of titles from their sofas, they could then have the discs delivered promptly to their letter boxes. Oh, and we all recall paying late fees for an unwatched copy of Joe Versus the Volcano(or whatever). If I'm not going to get the nice box and the limited-edition postcards then I want to keep the blasted thing for as long as I blasted want. No penalties, thank you.
Online rental companies such as Netflix have satisfied those demands and ensured the DVD has some sort of future. But even the Blu-Ray incarnation is starting to look hopelessly dated. Let's get this straight. I get this bit of shiny plastic. I have to open a drawer on a machine, put this thing within, then wait for it to start spinning. For Pete's sake, daddyo, why not just bring a magic lantern around to my house? The game is up for the video store. It'll soon be up for the DVD.
Donald Clarke
