Journal articles on the topic 'North British Rayon Ltd'

Stethorus punctillum Weise (Coleoptera: Coccinellidae) is a Palearctic species first found in North America in the 1940s (Putman 1955). Commercial mass-rearing methods were developed in the late 1990s (Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada, London, Ontario, and Applied Bio-nomics Ltd, Saanich, British Columbia). The beetle is now released in North America to control two-spotted spider mites, Tetranychus urticae Koch (Acari: Tetranychidae). Knowledge of the life-history traits of S. punctillum is necessary for effective use of the predator in greenhouses. Putman (1955) provides useful information, but his results cannot be readily interpreted with respect to larval voracity, lower developmental temperature threshold, and developmental time in degreedays (°d), traits that affect efficacy. In this note I report new results relating to these life-history traits and to beetle releases in greenhouse vegetable crops.

Clemmer, Gina. The GIS 20 Essential Skills, third edition. Redlands, California: Esri Press, 2017. 182p. $49.99 US. ISBN 9781589485129. Davidson, Peter. Atlas of Empires. Pennsylvania: Fox Chapel Publishing, 2018. 240p. $19.99 US. ISBN 978-1504800891. Davies, John and Kent, Alexander J. The Red Atlas; How the Soviet Union secretly mapped the World. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017. 272 p. $35.00 US. ISBN: 9780226389578. Johnson, Alexander. The First Mapping of America: The General Survey of British North America. New York: I.B. Tauris & Co. Ltd., 2017. 320 p. $110 US (hardcover). ISBN: 978-1-806-442-9. Shoalts, Adam. A History of Canada in Ten Maps, Epic Stories of Charting a Mysterious Land. Canada: Allen Lane, 2017. 344p. $36.00 CAD. ISBN 978-0-670-06946-0.

NORTHERN IRELAND FROM THE AIR. Edited by R. Common, Belfast : Queen's University Geography Department, 1964. 104 pp., 44 plates, 1 folding map. 10 × 8 ins. 25s.THE CANALS OF THE NORTH OF IRELAND, by W. A. McCutcheon. Dawlish : David and Charles, and London : Macdonald and Co., 1965. 180 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/4 in. 36s.ULSTER AND OTHER IRISH MAPS c.1600. Edited by G. A. Hayes‐McCoy. Dublin : Irish Manuscripts Commission, 1964. 13 × 19 in. xv + 36 pp., 23. plates. £ 6.SOILS OF COUNTY WEXFORD. Edited by P. Ryan and M. J. Gardiner. Prepared and published by An Foras Talúntais (The Agricultural Institute), Dublin 1964. 171 pp. and three fold‐in maps. 30s.THE GEOGRAPHY OF SOIL, by Brian T. Bunting. London : Hutchinson's University Library, 1965. pp. 213. 14 figs. 12 tables. 7 1/2 × 5 in. 15s.THE HISTORY OF THE STUDY OF LANDFORMS. Vol. I : GEOMORPHOLOGY BEFORE DAVIS. Richard J. Chorley, Anthony J. Dunn and Robert P. Beckinsale. London : Methuen, 1964. 678 pp. 84s.A DICTIONARY OF GEOGRAPHY, by F. J. Monkhouse. London : Edward. Arnold Ltd., 1965. 344 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 in. 35s.LA REGION DE L'OUEST, by Pierre Flatrès. Collection ‘France de Demain ‘. Paris : Presses Universitaires de France, 1964. 31s. 6d.THE BRITISH ISLES : A SYSTEMATIC GEOGRAPHY. Edited by J. Wreford Watson and J. B. Sissons. Edinburgh : Thomas Nelson, 1964. 452 pp. 45s.SCANDINAVIAN LANDS, by Roy Millward. London : Macmillan, 1964. Pp. 448. 9 × 6 in. 45s.MERSEYSIDE, by R. Kay Gresswell and R. Lawton. British Landscapes Through Maps, No. 6. The Geographical Association, Sheffield, 1964. 36 pp. + 16 plates. 7 1/2 × 9 1/2 in. 5s.WALKING IN WICKLOW, by J. B. Malone. Dublin : Helicon Ltd., 1964. 172 pp. 7 × 4 #fr1/2> in. 7s.GREYSTONES 1864–1964. A parish centenary, 1964. 23 pp. 8 #fr1/4> × 5 1/2 in. 2s. 6d. Obtainable from the A.P.C.K., 37 Dawson Street, Dublin 2.DINNSEANCHAS. Vol. I, No. I. June 1964. An Cumann Logainmneacha, Baile Atha Cliath. Pp. 24. 5s.JOURNAL OF THE ASSOCIATION OF GEOGRAPHY TEACHERS OF IRELAND. Vol. I, Dublin. 1964.MAP READING FOR THE INTERMEDIATE CERTIFICATE, by Michael J. Turner. A. Folens : Dublin. 1964. 92 pp.MAP OF CORK CITY, 1: 15,000. Dublin : Ordnance Survey Office, 1964. 32 × 24 in. On paper, flat, 4s., or folded and covered, 5s.IRELAND, by T. W. Freeman. London : Methuen & Co. Ltd. Third edition, 1965. 5 1/2 × 8 #fr1/2> in. Pp. xx + 560. 65s.THE PLANNING AND FUTURE DEVELOPMENT OF THE DUBLIN REGION. PRELIMINARY REPORT. By Myles Wright. Dublin : Stationery Office, 1965. Pp.55. 8 ins. × 11 3/4 ins. 10s 6d.LIMERICK REGIONAL PLAN. Interim Report on the Limerick—Shannon— Ennis District by Nathaniel Litchfield. The Stationery Office, Dublin 1965. 8 × 12 ins. ; Pp. 83 ; 10s. 6d.ANTRIM NEW TOWN. Outline Plan. Belfast : H. M. Stationery Office, 1965. 10 1/2 × 8 1/2 in. 15s.HEPORT OF THE DEPUTY KEEPER OF THE RECORDS 1954–1959. Belfast : Her Majesty's Stationery Office. Cmd. 490. 138 pp. 10s.ECONOMIC GEOGRAPHY, by Ronald Hope. London : George Philip and Son Ltd., 4th edition, 1965. pp. 296. 15s. 6d.CLIMATE, SOILS AND VEGETATION, by D. C. Money. London : University Tutorial Press, 1965. pp. 272. 18s.TECHNIQUES IN GEOMORPHOLOGY, by Cuchlaine A. M. King. 9 × 5 1/2 in. 342 pp. London : Edward Arnold (Publishers) Ltd., 1966. 40s.BRITISH GEOMORPHOLOGICAL RESEARCH GROUP PUBLICATIONS :— 1. RATES OF EROSION AND WEATHERING IN THE BRITISH ISLES. Occasional Publication No. 2, 1965. Pp. 46. 13 × 8 in. 7s. 6d.2. DEGLACIATION. Occasional Publication No. 3, 1966. Pp. 37. 13 × 8 in. 7s.RECHERCHES DE GÉOMORPHOLOGIE EN ÉCOSSE DU NORD‐OUEST. By A. Godard. Publication de la Faculté des Lettres de l'Université de Strasbourg, 1965. 701 pp. 482 reís.ARTHUR'S SEAT: A HISTORY OF EDINBURGH'S VOLCANO, by G. P. Black. Edinburgh & London : Oliver & Boyd, 1966. 226 pp. 7 1/2 × 5 in. 35s.OFFSHORE GEOGRAPHY OF NORTHWESTERN EUROPE. The Political and Economic Problems of Delimitation and Control, by Lewis M. Alexander. London : Murray, 1966. 35s.GEOGRAPHICAL PIVOTS OF HISTORY. An Inaugural Lecture, by W. Kirk. Leicester University Press, 1965. 6s.THE GEOGRAPHY OF FRONTIERS AND BOUNDARIES, by J. R. V. Prescott. London : Hutchinson, 1965. 15s.THE READER'S DIGEST COMPLETE ATLAS OF THE BRITISH ISLES.. London : Reader's Digest Assoc., 1965. 230 pp. 15 1/4 × 10 1/2 in. £5. 10. 0.ULSTER DIALECTS. AN INTRODUCTORY SYMPOSIUM. Edited by G. B. Adams, Belfast : Ulster Folk Museum, 1964. 201 pp. 9 1/2 × 6 1/2 in. 20s.ULSTER FOLKLIFE, Volume 11. Belfast: The Ulster Folk Museum, 1965. Pp. 139. 9 1/2 × 7 in. 15s.GEOGRAPHICAL ABSTRACTS published and edited by K. M. Clayton, F. M Yates, F. E. Hamilton and C. Board.Obtainable from Geo. Abstracts, Dept. of Geography, London School of Economics, Aldwych, London, W.C.2. Subscription rates as below.THE CLIMATE OF LONDON. T. J. Chandler. London : Hutchinson and Co., 1965. 292 pp., 86 figs., 93 tables. 70/‐.MONSOON LANDS, Part I, by R. T. Cobb and L. J. M. Coleby. London : University Tutorial Press Ltd., 1966, constituting Book Six (Part 1 ) of the Advanced Level Geography Series. 303 pp. 8 1/4 × 5 1/4 in. 20s.PREHISTORIC AND EARLY CHRISTIAN IRELAND. A GUIDE, by Estyn Evans. London : B. T. Batsford Ltd., 1966. xii + 241 pp. 45s.A REGIONAL GEOGRAPHY OF IRELAND, by G. Fahy. Dublin : Browne and Nolan Ltd. No date. 238 pp. 12s.THE CANALS OF THE SOUTH OF IRELAND, by V. T. H. and D. R. Delany. Newton Abbot : David and Charles, 1966. 260 pp. + 20 plates. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 in. 50s.THE COURSE OF IRISH HISTORY. Edited by T. W. Moody and F. X. Martin. Cork : The Mercier Press. 1967. 404 pp. 5 3/4 × 7 3/4 ins. Paperback, 21s. Hard cover, 40s.NORTH MUNSTER STUDIES. Edited by E. Rynne. Limerick : The Thomond Archaeological Society, 1967. 535 pp. 63s.SOILS OF COUNTY LIMERICK, by T. F. Finch and Pierce Ryan. Dublin: An Foras Talúntais, 1966. 199 pp. and four fold‐in maps. 9 1/2 × 7 1/4 in. 30s.THE FORESTS OF IRELAND. Edited by H. M. Fitzpatrick. Dublin : Society of Irish Foresters. No date. 153 pp. 9 3/4 × 7 1/4 in. 30s.PLANNING FOR AMENITY AND TOURISM. Specimen Development Plan Manual 2–3, Donegal. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha (The National Institute for Physical Planning and Construction Research), 1966. 110 pp. 8 × 11 in. 12s. 6d.NEW DIMENSIONS IN REGIONAL PLANNING. A CASE STUDY OF IRELAND, by Jeremiah Newman. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha, 1967. 128 pp. 8 1/2 × 6 in. 25s.TRAFFIC PLANNING FOR SMALLER TOWNS. Dublin : An Foras Forbartha (The National Institute for Regional Planning and Construction Research), 1966. 35 pp. 8 1/4 × 10 3/4 in. No price.LATE AND POST‐GLACIAL SHORELINES AND ICE LIMITS IN ARGYLL AND NORTH‐EAST ULSTER, by F. M. Synge and N. Stephens. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 59, 1966, pp. 101–125.QUATERNARY CHANGES OF SEA‐LEVEL IN IRELAND, by A. R. Orme. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 39, 1966, pp. 127–140.LIMESTONE PAVEMENTS (with special reference to Western Ireland), by Paul W. Williams. Institute of British Geographers Transactions No. 40, 1966, pp. 155–172. 50s. for 198 pages.IRISH SPELEOLOGY. Volume I, No. 2, 1966. Pp. 18. 10 × 8 in. 5s., free to members of the Irish Speleological Association.THE GEOGRAPHER'S CRAFT, by T. W. Freeman. Manchester University Press, 1967. pp.204. 8 1/4 × 5 in. 25s.GEOGRAPHY AS HUMAN ECOLOGY. Edited by S. R. Eyre and G. R. J. Jones. London : Edward Arnold Ltd., 1966. 308 pp. 45s.LOCATIONAL ANALYSIS IN HUMAN GEOGRAPHY, by Peter Haggett. London : Edward Arnold (Publishers) Ltd., 1965. 339 pp. 9 × 5 1/2 in. 40s.AGRICULTURAL GEOGRAPHY, by Leslie Symons. London : G. Bell and Sons, Ltd., 1967. 283 pp. 8 1/2 × 5 1/2 ins. 30s.THE GEOLOGY OF SCOTLAND, edited by Gordon Y. Craig. Edinburgh and London : Oliver & Boyd, 1965. Pp. 556. 9 3/4 × 7 1/2 in. 105s.MORPHOLOGY OF THE EARTH, by Lester C. King. Edinburgh : Oliver and Boyd, 2nd ed., 1967. 726 pp. 9 1/2 × 7 in. £5. 5. 0.INTERNATIONAL YEARBOOK OF CARTOGRAPHY, V, 1965. Edited by Eduard Imhof. London : George Philip and Son Ltd., 1965. 222 pp. + 9 plates. 9 3/4 × 6 1/2 in. 47s. 6d.IRISH FOLK WAYS, by E. Estyn Evans. London : Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967. 324 pp. 16s.A HISTORY OF MEDIEVAL IRELAND, by A.J.Otway‐Ruthven. London: Ernest Benn Limited. New York : Barnes and Noble Inc., 1968. xv + 454 pp. 70s.IRISH AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTION, ITS VOLUME AND STRUCTURE, by Raymond D. Crotty. Cork University Press, 1966. 384 pp. 42s.PLANNING IN IRELAND. Edited by F. Rogerson and P. O hUiginn. Dublin : The Irish Branch of the Town Planning Institute and An Foras Forbartha, 1907. 199 pp.THE SHELL GUIDE TO IRELAND, by Lord Killanin and Michael V. Duignan. London : Ebury Press and George Rainbird (distributed by Michael Joseph) : 2nd edition, 1967. 512 pp. 50s.THE CLIMATE OF NORTH MUNSTER, by P. K. Rohan. Dublin : Department of Transport and Power, Meteorological Service, 1968. 72 pp. 10s. 6d.SOILS OF COUNTY CARLOW, by M.J. Conry and Pierce Ryan. Dublin : An Foras Talúntais, 1967. 204 pp. and four fold‐in maps. 30s.MOURNE COUNTRY, by E. Estyn Evans. Dundalk : Dundalgan Press (W. Tempest) Ltd., 2nd ed., 1967. 244 pp. 63s.THE DUBLIN REGION. Advisory Plan and Final Report, by Myles Wright. Dublin : The Stationery Office, 1967. Part One, pp. 64. 20s. Part Two, pp. 224. 80s.BELFAST : THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF AN INDUSTRIAL CITY. Edited by J. C. Beckett and R. E. Glasscock. London : The British Broadcasting Corporation, 1967. 204 pp. 25s.REPORT ON SKIBBEREEN SOCIAL SURVEY, by John Jackson. Dublin : Human Sciences Committee of the Irish National Productivity Committee, 1967. 63 pp. 12s. 6d.AN OUTLINE PLAN FOR GALWAY CITY, by Breandan S. MacAodha. Dublin : Scepter Publishers Ltd., 1966. 15 pp.COASTAL PASSENGER STEAMERS AND INLAND NAVIGATIONS IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND, by D.B. McNeill. Belfast : The Transport Museum (Transport Handbook No. 6), 1965 (issued in 1967). 44 pp. (text) + 12 pp. (plates). 3s. 6d.CANALIANA, the annual bulletin of Robertstown Muintir na Tire. Robertstown, Co. Kildare : Muintir na Tire, n.d. (issued in 1967). 60 pp. 2s. 6d.CONACRE IN IRELAND, by Breandan S. MacAodha (Social Sciences Research Centre, Galway). Dublin : Scepter Publishers Ltd., 1967, 15 pp. No price.PROCESSES OF COASTAL DEVELOPMENT, by V.P. Zenkovich, edited by J.A. Steers, translated by D.G. Fry. 738 pp. Edinburgh and London : Oliver and Boyd, 1967. £12. 12s.CONGRESS PROCEEDINGS. 20th International Geographical Congress. Edited by J. Wreford Watson. London : Nelson, 1967. 401 pp. 70s.REGIONAL GEOGRAPHY, by Roger Minshull. London : Hutchinson University Library, 1967. 168 pp. 10s. 6d.ATMOSPHERE, WEATHER AND CLIMATE, by R.G. Barry and R.J. Chorley. London : University Paperback, Methuen, 1967. 25s.THE EVOLUTION OF SCOTLAND'S SCENERY, by J.B. Sissons. Edinburgh and London : Oliver and Boyd, 1967. 259 pp. 63s.WEST WICKLOW. BACKGROUND FOR DEVELOPMENT, by F.H.A. Aalen, D.A. Gillmor and P.W. Williams. Dublin : Geography Department, Trinity College, 1966. 323 pp. Unpublished : copy available in the Society's Library.

THE GEOMORPHOLOGY OF THE BRITISH ISLES: IRELAND, by G. L. Herries Davies and Nicholas Stephens. London: Methuen, 1978. 250 pp. £3.95.MAN AND THE LANDSCAPE IN IRELAND, by F. H. A. Aalen. London: Academic Press, 1978. 343 pp. £9.90.IRISH MAPS, by J. H. Andrews. Dublin: Eason and Son Ltd., The Irish Heritage Series, No. 18, 1978. 31 pp. £0.99.INDUSTRIEPARKS IN IRLAND, by Armin Hüttermann. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag GmbH, 1978. 128 pp. DM 18.60.WANDLUNGEN IN DER KULTURLANDSCHAFT UND AGRARGE‐SELLSCHAFT IM KLEINFARMGEBIET DER BEARA‐ UND IVERAGH‐HALBINSEL (SUDWESTIRLAND), by Gunther Glebe. Düsseldorfer Geographische Schriften, Heft 6, 1977. 310 pp. DM 27.NINETEEN ACRES, by John Healy. Galway: Kenny, 1978. 138 pp. £4.95.VALENTIA — PORTRAIT OF AN ISLAND, by Daphne D. C. Pochin Mould. Dublin: Blackwater Press, 1978. 145 pp. £5.45.TOPONOMIA HIBERNIAE I: BARÚNTACHT DHÚN CIARÁIN THUAIDH. BARONY OF DUNKERRON NORTH, by Breandán Ó Cíobháin. Dublin: An Foras Duibhneach, 1978. 176 pp. £5.50.SOUTH WESTMEATH: FARM AND FOLK, by Jeremiah Sheehan. Dublin: Blackwater Press, 1978. 454 pp. £10.00.SOURCES FOR OFFALY HISTORY, by Michael Byrne. Tullamore: Offaly Research Library, Second edition, 1978. 102 pp. £2.50.KILKENNY. ITS ARCHITECTURE AND HISTORY, edited by Katherine M. Lanigan & Gerald Tyler. Published by An Taisce, Kilkenny Association, 1977. Distributed by the O'Brien Press, Dublin. 112 pp. £5.45.CHANGING FORCES SHAPING A NINETEENTH CENTURY IRISH TOWN: A CASE STUDY OF NAVAN, by Peter Connell. Department of Geography, Maynooth College, Occasional Papers, No. 1, 1978. 54 pp. £1.00.IRISH SPINNING, DYEING AND WEAVING: AN ANTHOLOGY FROM ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS, collected by Lillias Mitchell. Dundalk: Dundal‐gan Press (W. Tempest) Ltd., 1978, 80 pp. £4.50.WHEEL AND SPINDLE: ASPECTS OF IRISH INDUSTRIAL HISTORY, by Alan McCutcheon. Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1977. 92 pp. £3.60.

Trial trenching carried out by CFA Archaeology Ltd in 2006 to the north of Lockerbie Academy (NGR: NY 13398273) identified four areas of archaeological significance covering a timescale from early Neolithic to post-medieval periods. The earliest site identified was the remains of a Neolithic timber hall, which was situated on top of the flat plateau towards the northwest end of the site (Area A). Pottery recovered from the Neolithic structure was of the Carinated Bowl ceramic tradition. At the summit of the rounded knoll in the centre of the area (Area D) a Bronze Age phase consisting of a cremation and inhumation cemetery enclosed by a possible ring-cairn was identified. The Bronze Age cemetery included a Collared Urn and a copper alloy dagger of Butterwick type. At the base of the rounded knoll, the remains of an Early Historic timber hall were identified (Area C). This Anglian timber hall reoccupied the site of a post-built structure, which was interpreted as a timber hall, possibly belonging to an earlier British tradition. Radiocarbon dates taken from the primary fill of two of the post-holes of the earlier structure gave dates which are broadly contemporary with the dates obtained for the Anglian hall, suggesting that the post-built structure immediately preceded it. A corn-drying kiln was identified cut into the same knoll as the Bronze Age cemetery (Area D) and has been dated to the late medieval or early post-medieval period. A segmented ditched enclosure was located towards the north-east end of the site (Area B), but the poor survival of this feature combined with a lack of finds and palaeobotanical evidence means that it remains undated and poorly understood.

In his opinion in John A. MacDonald, Railquip Enterprises Ltd and Vapor Canada Limited, Chief Justice Laskin commented that in the future it might be necessary to reconsider the 1937 Labour Conventions Decision which established the « watertight compartments » doctrine applicable to the implementation of treaties concluded by Canada. According to this doctrine as it was set forth by the Privy Council, the fact that Canada can enter into treaties with other countries does not mean that the Federal Parliament of Canada can legislate contrary to the distribution of powers provided for by sections 91 and 92 of the British North America Act. In his article, Professor Bonenfant recalls the criticism which the Privy Council evoked, particularly that which appeared in the June, 1937, issue of The Canadian Bar Review. If the Supreme Court of Canada wishes to revise the decision of the Privy Council, it will not be hampered by the rule of stare decisis. But, Professor Bonenfant writes, whatever the judicial solution may be, it would probably be better to follow the example of other countries, particularly the example provided by article 32 of the Constitution of the German Federal Republic, and seek a political solution. In this domain as in others, if federalism has failed in Canada, he writes that it is perhaps because the interpretation of Canada's Constitution has been left to the intellectual virtuosity of the members of the Privy Council and of the Supreme Court.

Forages produced in the north central interior of British Columbia are low in percentage crude protein (CP). Growing lucerne (Medicago sativa L.) should increase forage percentage CP, but many of the soils are considered too acidic for this species. The objective of three field experiments, conducted at the Prince George experimental farm, was to evaluate management practices that might accommodate the growth of lucerne on acid soils without the expense of liming. Experiment 1 compared three legume species (lucerne, alsike clover (Trifolium hybridum L.) and red clover (T. pratense L.)), preinoculated lime-coated seed (GNRTM, Grow Tec Ltd, Nisku, Alberta), and soil liming on root nodulation and forage dry matter (DM) yield. Experiment 2 compared lucerne genetic lines, seed preinoculation and soil liming on root nodulation and forage DM yield and percentage CP. Experiment 3 compared lucerne rhizobia genetic strains, seed preinoculation and soil liming on root nodulation, forage DM yield and percentage CP.For effective nodulation, lucerne required seed preinoculation, whereas alsike clover and red clover did not. Lucerne persisted longer than alsike or red clover. In Expts 2 and 3, the combination of lime and preinoculation increased lucerne DM yield by 136% and %CP from 9·2 to 15·4. The addition of lime alone increased lucerne DM yield by an average of 130% and %CP from 9·2 to 16·3. With preinoculation alone, lucerne DM yield increased by 100% and %CP increased from 9·2 to 12·7. Although using preinoculated lime-coated seed alone is not as effective as lime alone, coated seed may be the preferred method, based on ease of application and cost. Neither the six lucerne lines nor the three rhizobial strains evaluated resulted in improved root nodulation under acidic conditions.

-Brenda Plummer, Carol S. Holzberg, Minorities and power in a black society: the Jewish community of Jamaica. Maryland: The North-South Publishing Company, Inc., 1987. xxx + 259 pp.-Scott Guggenheim, Nina S. de Friedemann ,De sol a sol: genesis, transformacion, y presencia de los negros en Colombia. Bogota: Planeta Columbiana Editorial, 1986. 47 1pp., Jaime Arocha (eds)-Brian L. Moore, Mary Noel Menezes, Scenes from the history of the Portuguese in Guyana. London: Sister M.N. Menezes, RSM, 1986. vii + 175 PP.-Charles Rutheiser, Brian L. Moore, Race, power, and social segmentation in colonial society: Guyana after slavery 1838-1891. New York; Gordon and Breach, 1987. 310 pp.-Thomas Fiehrer, Virginia R. Dominguez, White by definition: social classification in Creole Louisiana. Rutgers, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1986. xviii + 325 pp.-Kenneth Lunn, Brian D. Jacobs, Black politics and urban crisis in Britain. Cambridge, London, New Rochelle, Melbourne and Sydney: Cambridge University Press, 1986. vii + 227 pp.-Brian D. Jacobs, Kenneth Lunn, Race and labour in twentieth-cenruty Britain, London: Frank Cass and Co. Ltd., 1985. 186 pp.-Kenneth M. Bilby, Dick Hebdige, Cut 'n' mix: culture, identity and Caribbean Music. New York: Metheun and Co. Ltd, 1987. 177 pp.-Riva Berleant-Schiller, Robert Dirks, The black saturnalia: conflict and its ritual expression on British West Indian slave plantations. Gainesville, Fl.: University of Florida Press, Monographs in Social Sciences No. 72. xvii + 228.-Marilyn Silverman, James Howe, The Kuna gathering: contemporary village politics in Panama. Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, 1986. xvi + 326 pp.-Paget Henry, Evelyne Huber Stephens ,Democratic socialism in Jamaica: the political movement and social transformation in dependent capitalism. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985. xx + 423 pp., John D. Stephens (eds)-Bridget Brereton, Scott B. Macdonald, Trinidad and Tobago: democracy and development in the Caribbean. New York, Connecticut, London: Praeger Publishers, 1986. ix + 213 pp.-Brian L. Moore, Kempe Ronald Hope, Guyana: politics and development in an emergent socialist state. Oakville, New York, London: Mosaic Press, 1985, 136 pp.-Roland I. Perusse, Richard J. Bloomfield, Puerto Rico: the search for a national policy. Boulder and London: Westview Press, Westview Special Studies on Latin America and the Caribbean, 1985. x + 192 pp.-Charles Gilman, Manfred Gorlach ,Focus on the Caribbean. 1986. Amsterdam/Philadelphia, John Benjamins., John A. Holm (eds)-Viranjini Munasinghe, EPICA, The Caribbean: survival, struggle and sovereignty. Washington, EPICA (Ecumenical Program for Interamerican Communication and Action), 1985.-B.W. Higman, Sidney W. Mintz, Sweetness and power: the place of sugar in modern history. New York: Elisabeth Sifton Books, Viking Penguin Inc., 1985. xxx + 274 pp.

ABSTRACTBy using surface data from 57 UK meteorological stations, a national [British Atmospheric Data Centre (BADC)‐57] and regional wind index for the UK has been calculated for the period 1983–2011. For a subset of seven stations, an additional national index (BADC‐7) has been calculated for the period 1957–2011. The indices show an annual variability of 4% over their respective periods, corresponding to a variation in typical wind turbine capacity factor of 7%. These indices are compared with indices calculated from other sources, namely an index generated using a gridded dataset of observed values interpolated across the UK, an index calculated from an area bounding the UK using the ERA‐40 re‐analysis dataset, indices calculated from bilinear interpolation of the ERA‐40 re‐analysis dataset to the 57 and 7 stations and another independent UK wind index. The indices show variation in trends, with all showing some level of decline with the exception of that generated using the ERA‐40 re‐analysis dataset averaged over the UK, which shows a significant increase. The various indices show varying degrees of agreement with correlation coefficients, after trends are removed, ranging between 0.611 and 0.979. The effect of changes in site exposure, instrument bias and measuring height was considered for the BADC‐7 and BADC‐57 indices. The change in instrument measurement height appears to have a significant biasing effect, and it is likely that this along with changes in exposure at urban sites has caused the decline in annual wind speeds observed for some of the indices. There does not appear to be evidence for significant changes in large‐area (mesoscale) surface roughness. The correlation between annual mean wind speeds at the seven surface station sites used to calculate the BADC‐7 index is seen to be quite weak, indicating very localized variations in inter‐annual variability. When regional differences in the index are investigated, it is seen that wind speeds show a very slight decline across the UK in all regions except the south‐east, which shows a slight increase. The greatest decrease is seen in the north‐west. These changes are in the same direction as the tentative predictions given by climate models for future changes in wind speed across the UK, although the uncertainty is large given the large degree of inter‐annual variation. Copyright © 2013 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

ROMAN LAW AS A PART OF THE ENGLISH DOCTRINE AND PRACTICE OF THE INTERNATIONAL LAWSummary This paper presents views on the role played by Roman Law as a factor in creating the roots of international law which developed within the English legal doctrine from the 16,h to the 19th century. In addition, it exemplifies applications of the institutions of Roman law in international legal practice. The general theory discounts the influence of Roman law on the British system of law. This, however, should be reviewed, as the evidence shows that Roman law has always played a vital role in the English legal system (e. g. Courts of Chancery, Admiralty, Constable and Marshall, Ecclesiastical Courts, Doctors’ Commons organisation). The Roman influences on the doctrine of English international law (Gentilis, Zouche, Duck, Wiseman, Westlake, Maine, Phillimore) indicate a positive, or even enthusiastic attitude towards the use of Roman law as a source of international law. One of the public branches where English practitioners and theorists of civil law could always find employment was in HM Foreign Service, which had a strong need for lawyers qualified in Roman law who were often educated and trained at English universities.One of the earliest authors describing the use of the theory and practice of Roman law in international law was Alberigo Gentili. Although he was Italian, his professional life and career was bound to England as both a Regius Professor at Oxford University and as a legal counsellor for the Privy Council. He gained much prominence and his works on international law, De Jure Belli, De Legationibus and Advocationis Hispanicae have become frequently quoted in the theory of international law. Another Oxford Regius Professor, and a judge in the Admiralty Court, Sir Richard Zouche, together with Gentili and Grotius, is regarded as the father of international law. Among his many works, Jus inter Gentes and Juris et Judicii Fecialis illustrate the influences of Roman law on the developing theory (and practice) of international law. The Roman ideas are particularly visible in Jus Inter Gentes, where Zouche had used the Roman systematic of status, dominium., delictum and judicium to classify and explain international law theory. Another 17th century civil lawyer, Sir Robert Wiseman, in The Excellency o f the Civil Law above all other Human Law glorifies the Roman law as universal law for all nations, applicable to many international debates. One of the most famous British civilians and international law experts, Sir Henry Maine considered the Roman law as an important resource and element of the 19th century doctrine of international law. According to Sir Robert Phillimore, the Roman law could be used in the controversies between independent States. As an example he described the cases between the USA and Spain concerning navigation in the Mississipi River, boundary disputes and arbitration. He proposed application of the Roman law to numerous cases concerning overseas properties.Apart from theory, hundreds of international cases bear traces of successful application of the Roman law to resolve situations when there was no actual law institution to bridge the legal divide. This paper presents five international cases in which an important role was played by Roman law. Arbitration of the Behring Sea dispute in 1893, where the UK and the USA argued about the UK’s right to hunt seals outside the three miles boundary area of the Pribilof s Isles. Both sides used arguments based on Roman law. The Americans view was that seals born on the isles would always return to the shore, not losing animus revertendi of Roman law, thus not becoming res nullius and not subject to „occupation” by the UK fishermen. The British delegates claimed that the seals were born ferae naturae (another Roman law category), and so everyone should be entitled to hunt them.The Alaskan Boundary Tribunal proceedings of 1903 declared that Roman law rules, as a source of international law, should take precedence over the rules of common law.During the Venezuelan arbitration before the Hague Tribunal in 1903, the opponents dealt with many Roman law institutes (like pignus> hypotheca, cessio bonorum, negotiorum gestio and others), trying to adjust them to their actual position.In 1910 the Arbitration Tribunal concerning fishing on the North Atlantic coast allowed the Roman definition of servitude and attempted to treat a state’s territory as a Roman property.The last case dealt with in the paper is the famous Indian Oil Corp. Ltd v. Greenstone Shipping dispute of 1987. The British judge applied the Roman law of confusioy declaring that no previous common law precedent was applicable to this case in which crude oil had been accidentally mixed on board the tanker.Taking into consideration these examples, one may draw the conclusion that Roman law has been an inspiration for European lawyers, as well as English common lawyers, in both the theory and practice of international law.

Hemophilia is an X-linked bleeding disorder characterized by deficiencies of Factor VIII or IX. Hypertension in persons with hemophilia (PWH) appears to be more prevalent compared to the general population. A major complication of hemophilia remains the development of neutralizing antibodies (inhibitors) against infused clotting factor. It tends to occur within the first 50 exposure days and therefore mostly in children with severe hemophilia. Since inhibitor development is associated with high mortality and morbidity, their eradication with high dose clotting factor concentrates is critical and successful in the majority of patients. Recently a cohort study showed a positive association between presence of inhibitors in elderly patients and cardiovascular disease, although a small number of patients with inhibitors were included in that study (Sood SL, Blood Advances 2018). To date, the link between a history of inhibitors and hypertension has not been established. The primary purpose of our study was to evaluate the relationship between hypertension in PWH and a history of inhibitors, with the additional goals of investigating the association between hypertension and hemophilia type and viral status. In a retrospective review, clinical records were extracted for PWH aged 18 to 79 between 2003 and 2014 from four Hemophilia Treatment Centers in North America: Los Angeles Orthopaedic Hospital, University of California San Diego, Tulane University and University of British Columbia. We extracted demographic information on age and ethnicity, weight, height, hemophilia type and severity, inhibitor history, Hepatitis C (HCV; by serology) and Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) status or reported history thereof and medication history. Primary outcomes were prevalence of hypertension stratified by inhibitor status, hemophilia type, and presence of viral coinfection. Blood pressure measurements were taken for the three clinic visits closest to the evaluation date. We fitted generalized additive models with a non-parametric spline function for age. The outcomes were hypertension (with a binary logit), systolic blood pressure (SBP) and diastolic BP (DBP). The models were adjusted for logBMI, type of hemophilia, severity, race/ethnicity, HCV and HIV. We plotted standardized curves generated by the models to compare trends in each outcome. A total of 691 PWH were included. Forty-four (6%) had a history of inhibitors, 533 had hemophilia type A (77%) and 157 had hemophilia type B (23%). HCV was positive in 419 patients (61%) and HIV in 128 patients (19%). There was no difference in the risk of hypertension between patients with or without a history of inhibitors. SBPs and DBSs were only analyzed for patients not on anti-hypertensives, and were not associated with a history of inhibitors (Fig. 1A). However, risk of hypertension was considerably higher among patients with Hemophilia B compared to patients with Hemophilia A (Fig. 1B). Hemophilia B patients were more likely to be categorized as hypertensive because both SBPs and DBPs were higher, especially in patients between 40 and 60 years of age. Finally, risk of hypertension was higher among those coinfected with both HCV and HIV (Fig. 1C). This large-scale study found no evidence that inhibitor history influenced the risk for hypertension or elevated BPs in PWH. Interestingly, Hemophilia B was associated with a higher risk of hypertension and higher BPs, similar to prior studies showing Hemophilia B had 1.87-fold higher odds of hypertension compared to Hemophilia A (von Drygalski A, Hypertension, 2013). Inhibitor development in Hemophilia B is very rare, which provides additional support that factors other than inhibitors play a role. Finally, our study showed coinfection with HIV and HCV was associated with higher hypertension risk, adding clarity to inconsistent findings on the association between hypertension and blood transmitted viral diseases in PWH. While there was no evidence that patients with a history of inhibitors have a higher risk of hypertension, our observations add to the continued efforts to elucidate the etiology of the hypertension in hemophilia and confirm that patients with Hemophilia B and/or viral infections may be at higher risk. These findings continue to inform medical care and also pave the way for additional studies to address physiological factors inherent to hemostasis and vascular pathology. Disclosures Kruse-Jarres: NovoNordisk: Other; CSLBehring and Genentech/Roche: Research Funding; Biomarin, Chugai, CSLBehring, and Genentech/Roche: Consultancy. Quon:Orthopaedic Institute for Children: Current Employment; Bayer: Honoraria; Shire/Takeda: Speakers Bureau; Genentech, Inc./F. Hoffmann-La Roche Ltd: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Octapharma: Honoraria; Novo Nordisk: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Bioverativ/Sanofi: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau; Biomarin: Honoraria, Speakers Bureau. Jackson:Octapharma, Takeda, Bayer, Roche and Pfizer: Honoraria; Bayer: Research Funding; Sanofi: Research Funding. von Drygalski:Hematherix Inc: Membership on an entity's Board of Directors or advisory committees, Other: Cofounder; superFVa; Joint Activity and Damage Examination (JADE) Ultrasound measurement tool: Patents & Royalties; Biomarin, Bioverativ/Sanofi-Genzyme, Novo Nordisk, Pfizer, Uniqure, Takeda: Consultancy.

A programme of archaeological trial trenching and excavation was undertaken by CFA Archaeology Ltd between Maryport (Alavna) Roman Fort and Netherhall Road on the north-eastern outskirts of Maryport from 2010 to 2016. The work confirmed the presence of a large sub-square ditched enclosure with two phases of construction, which is interpreted as a Romano-British rural farm site. It contained a variety of pottery deposited in its ditches, dating from the 1st to the 4th century CE. A linear feature, thought to be the line of a Roman road, did not produce definitive evidence of being a Roman road, but a Roman-period cremation cemetery was uncovered adjacent to it. One of the burials excavated held two pottery vessels of mid-3rd-century CE or slightly later date, one of which contained the cremated remains of an adult female along with other finds, while a second burial contained the cremated remains of a young child within a decorated Rhenish beaker.

Trial trenching carried out by CFA Archaeology Ltd in 2006 to the north of Lockerbie Academy identified four areas of archaeological significance covering a timescale from early Neolithic to post-medieval periods. The earliest site identified was the remains of a Neolithic timber hall, which was situated on top of the flat plateau towards the northwest end of the site (Area A). Pottery recovered from the Neolithic structure was of the Carinated Bowl ceramic tradition.At the summit of the rounded knoll in the centre of the area (Area D) a Bronze Age phase consisting of a cremation and inhumation cemetery enclosed by a possible ring-cairn was identified. The Bronze Age cemetery included a Collared Urn and a copper alloy dagger of Butterwick type.At the base of the rounded knoll, the remains of an Early Historic timber hall were identified (Area C). This Anglian timber hall reoccupied the site of a post-built structure, which was interpreted as a timber hall, possibly belonging to an earlier British tradition. Radiocarbon dates taken from the primary fill of two of the post-holes of the earlier structure gave dates which are broadly contemporary with the dates obtained for the Anglian hall, suggesting that the post-built structure immediately preceded it.A corn-drying kiln was identified cut into the same knoll as the Bronze Age cemetery (Area D) and has been dated to the late medieval or early post-medieval period.A segmented ditched enclosure was located towards the north-east end of the site (Area B), but the poor survival of this feature combined with a lack of finds and palaeobotanical evidence means that it remains undated and poorly understood.

Hemp (Cannabis sativa L.) is grown for medicinal and industrial uses. Symptomatic hemp (Mountain Mango) seedlings were received from a grower’s greenhouse in Towner County (48.7486° N, 99.2761° W), North Dakota (ND), USA in July 2020. Seedlings had brown to blackish root tips, thread-like hypocotyl rot and seedling collapse, with about 8 to 10% disease incidence. Roots were surface disinfested in 1% sodium hypochlorite for 1 min, rinsed thrice with sterile distilled water, and blotted dry. About 1-cm sectioned root tips were plated on water agar (WA) and acidified potato dextrose agar (PDA, pH: 4.8) media and incubated under fluorescent light with a 12-h photoperiod at 25° C. After 7 days, single spores were isolated and sub-cultured on PDA and carnation leaf agar for morphological observations (Dhingra and Sinclair, 1995). Colonies had uniform appearances and produced white, thick and floccose mycelium. Conidiophores produced from lateral hyphae were simple to branched. Phialides were slender, smooth, hyaline and septate. Macro-conidia were 12.5 to 30.2 x 2.2 to 3.6 µm, septate (3-5), thick walled, hyaline and moderately curved shaped. Micro-conidia were oval to ellipsoid, smooth walled, no septa and measured 3.4 to 8.8 μm and 1.3 to 4.3 μm. Chlamydospores were round shaped, thick-walled, and produced singly or in pairs. Based on morphological characteristics, isolates were identified as Fusarium solani (Mart.) (Carbone and Kohn 1999; Leslie and Summerell 2006). For molecular identification, genomic DNA of three representative fungal isolates were extracted using DNeasy Plant Mini Kit (Qiagen, Hilden, Germany). PCR was done using both the primers (EF1/EF2) of the translation elongation factor (TEF-1α) and primers 5F2/7cR and 7cF/11aR of the RNA polymerase II (RPB 2) for Fusarium species (O’Donnell et al. 2009 and 2010). All isolates had identical PCR product sequences for the respective primer sets. The DNA sequences were deposited to NCBI GenBank with accession No. OK880264 (TEF-1α), OK880266 (RBP 5F2/7cR), and OK880265 (RBP 7cF/11aR). The NCBI Megablast search of the OK880264, OK880266, and OK880265 showed 100% similarity with respective homologue sequences from F. solani species complex (GU170628, KC808344, and EU329608). Similar results were obtained by BLASTN search in the FUSARIUM ID database (Geiser et al. 2004). For pathogenicity testing, 200 µl conidial suspension (1 x 106 conidia/ml) was pipetted, without wounding roots, onto the soil around the base of four plants individually potted in peat mix (Sunshine mix 1, Sun Gro Horticulture Ltd.; Alberta, Canada) and maintained in the greenhouse with 12 h photoperiod and temperature of 23 ± 2°C (Argus Control Systems Ltd.; British Columbia, Canada). Four plants inoculated with distilled water served as control. The test was conducted twice. At 10 days post inoculation (dpi), yellowing of leaves and damping off were observed in all inoculated plants. Re-isolated fungi from infected plant samples were morphologically identical to the isolate used for root inoculation. F. solani has been reported to cause damping off and root rot in several states in the U.S., Canada and Italy (Gauthier et al. 2019; Iriarte et al. 2021; Sorrentino et al. 2019). This is the first report of F. solani causing seedling damping off and root rot on hemp in ND. Hemp acreage has decreased in ND because of diseases (Buetow et al. 2020). Information on identification and management of diseases affecting hemp will be useful to producers.

Simpson, Caroll. The Salmon Twins. Heritage House Publishing Co. Ltd., 2012. E-book and print. The Salmon Twins tells of the birth of twins in one Pacific Northwestern clan. Since the birth of twins is a rare and celebrated occurrence the children were bestowed the crest of the Salmon. This tale follows the twins as they grow and become selfish and greedy. Thunderbird sees this and, angered at the twins selfishness, changes the twins into a mythical sea serpent. The twins must then follow their own quest to learn to work together to find their way back home. Their quest becomes urgent when the salmon do not follow the villagers’ fishing run and it is up to the twins to lead the salmon home to feed their family and friends. The Salmon Twins, written and illustrated by British Columbian author Caroll Simpson, is an original tale steeped in Pacific First Nations tradition and inspired by well-known First Nations mythology and art sources such as Hilary Stewart, Bill Reid, Franz Boas, Cheryl Shearar, and Pat Kramer. Simpson’s own knowledge of Northwest Coast flora and fauna, culture, and mythology, is woven throughout this tale and provides many opportunities to extend student learning beyond the pages of this tale. Simpson’s illustrations are rich in depth and colour and show a definite respect for and understanding of First Nations culture, art, and people. Although this book title is in available in e-book and hardcover format, I would recommend purchasing the hardcover edition as the e-book edition has minor glitches with merging the text with the illustrations resulting in blank pages with single lines of text that take away from the beauty of the text/illustration interaction. Recommended with Reservations: 2 out of 4 stars (ebook) Recommended: 3 out of 4 stars (hardcover) Reviewer: April Hilland April Hilland is a teacher-librarian currently on educational leave from her role as District Teacher Librarian in Maple Ridge, BC to finish her MEd in teacher-librarianship at the University of Alberta. Currently hailing from the small northern town of Fort St. James, BC, April is bringing her passion for literature to her new community and thoroughly enjoying the experiences of the Great White North!

IntroductionFilmed during a 1955 family trip from Perth to the Gulf of Carpentaria, Keith Adams’s Northern Safari showed to packed houses across Australia, and in some overseas locations, across three decades. Essentially a home movie, initially accompanied by live commentary and subsequently by a homemade sound track, it tapped into audiences’ sense of Australia’s north as a place of adventure. In the film Adams interacts with the animals of northern Australia (often by killing them), and while by 1971 the violence apparent in the film was attracting criticism in letters to newspapers, the film remained popular through to the mid-1980s, and was later shown on television in Australia and the United States (Cowan 2; Adams, Crocodile Safari Man 261). A DVD is at present available for purchase from the website of the same name (Northern Safari). Adams and his supporters credited the film’s success to the rugged and adventurous landscape of northern Australia (Northeast vii), characterised by dangerous animals, including venomous spiders, sharks and crocodiles (see Adams, “Aussie”; “Crocodile”). The notion of Australia’s north as a place of rugged adventure was not born with Adams’s film, and that film was certainly not the last production to exploit the region and its wildlife as a source of excitement. Rather, Northern Safari belongs to a long list of adventure narratives whose hunting exploits have helped define the north of Australian as a distinct region and contrast it with the temperate south where most Australians make their lives.This article explores the connection between adventure in Australia’s north and the large animals of the region. Adams’s film capitalised on popular interest in natural history, but his film is only one link in a chain of representations of the Australian north as a place of dangerous and charismatic megafauna. While over time interest shifted from being largely concentrated on the presence of buffalo in the Northern Territory to a fascination with the saltwater crocodiles found more widely in northern Australia that interest in dangerous prey animals is significant to Australia’s northern imaginary.The Northern Safari before AdamsNorthern Australia gained a reputation for rugged, masculine adventure long before the arrival there of Adams and his cameras. That reputation was closely associated with the animals of the north, and it is generally the dangerous species that have inspired popular accounts of the region. Linda Thompson has recognised that before the release of the film Crocodile Dundee in 1986 crocodiles “received significant and sensational (although sporadic) media attention across Australia—attention that created associations of danger, mystery, and abnormality” (118). While Thompson went on to argue that in the wake of Crocodile Dundee the saltwater crocodile became a widely recognised symbol of Australia (for both Australians and non-Australians) it is perhaps more pertinent to consider the place of animals in creating a notion of the Australian north.Adams’s extended and international success (he showed his film profitably in the United States, Canada, England, Germany, South Africa, Rhodesia, and New Zealand as well as throughout Australia) suggests that the landscape and wildlife of northern Australia holds a fascination for a wide audience (Adams, Crocodile Safari Man 169-261). Certainly northern Australia, and its wild beasts, had established a reputation for adventure earlier, particularly in the periods following the world wars. Perhaps crocodiles were not the most significant of the north’s charismatic megafauna in the first half of the twentieth century, but their presence was a source of excitement well before the 1980s, and they were not the only animals in the north to attract attention: the Northern Territory’s buffalo had long acted as a drawcard for adventure seekers.Carl Warburton’s popular book Buffaloes was typical in linking Australians’ experiences of war with the Australian north and the pursuit of adventure, generally in the form of dangerous big game. War and hunting have long been linked as both are expressions of masculine valour in physically dangerous circumstances (Brennan “Imperial” 44-46). That link is made very clear in Warbuton’s account when he begins it on the beach at Gallipoli as he and his comrades discuss their plans for the future. After Warburton announces his determination not to return from war to work in a bank, he and a friend determine that they will go to either Brazil or the Northern Territory to seek adventure (2). Back in Sydney, a coin flip determines their “compass was set for the unknown north” (5).As the title of his book suggests, the game pursued by Warburton and his mate were buffaloes, as buffalo hides were fetching high prices when he set out for the north. In his writing Warburton was keen to establish his reputation as an adventurer and his descriptions of the dangers of buffalo hunting used the animals to establish the adventurous credentials of northern Australia. Warburton noted of the buffalo that: “Alone of all wild animals he will attack unprovoked, and in single combat is more than a match for a tiger. It is the pleasant pastime of some Indian princes to stage such combats for the entertainment of their guests” (62-63). Thereby, he linked Arnhem Land to India, a place that had long held a reputation as a site of adventurous hunting for the rulers of the British Empire (Brennan “Africa” 399). Later Warburton reinforced those credentials by noting: “there is no more dangerous animal in the world than a wounded buffalo bull” (126). While buffalo might have provided the headline act, crocodiles also featured in the interwar northern imaginary. Warburton recorded: “I had always determined to have a crack at the crocodiles for the sport of it.” He duly set about sating this desire (222-3).Buffalo had been hunted commercially in the Northern Territory since 1886 and Warburton was not the first to publicise the adventurous hunting available in northern Australia (Clinch 21-23). He had been drawn north after reading “of the exploits of two crack buffalo shooters, Fred Smith and Paddy Cahill” (Warburton 6). Such accounts of buffalo, and also of crocodiles, were common newspaper fodder in the first half of the twentieth century. Even earlier, explorers’ accounts had drawn attention to the animal excitement of northern Australia. For example, John Lort Stokes had noted ‘alligators’ as one of the many interesting animals inhabiting the region (418). Thus, from the nineteenth century Australia’s north had popularly linked together remoteness, adventure, and large animals; it was unsurprising that Warburton in turn acted as inspiration to later adventure-hunters in northern Australia. In 1954 he was mentioned in a newspaper story about two English migrants who had come to Australia to shoot crocodiles on Cape York with “their ambitions fed by the books of men such as Ion Idriess, Carl Warburton, Frank Clune and others” (Gay 15).The Development of Northern ‘Adventure’ TourismNot all who sought adventure in northern Australia were as independent as Adams. Cynthia Nolan’s account of travel through outback Australia in the late 1940s noted the increasing tourist infrastructure available, particularly in her account of Alice Springs (27-28, 45). She also recorded the significance of big game in the lure of the north. At the start of her journey she met a man seeking his fortune crocodile shooting (16), later encountered buffalo shooters (82), and recorded the locals’ hilarity while recounting a visit by a city-based big game hunter who arrived with an elephant gun. According to her informants: “No, he didn’t shoot any buffaloes, but he had his picture taken posing behind every animal that dropped. He’d arrange himself in a crouch, gun at the ready, and take self-exposure shots of himself and trophy” (85-86). Earlier, organised tours of the Northern Territory included buffalo shooter camps in their itineraries (when access was available), making clear the continuing significance of dangerous game to the northern imaginary (Cole, Hell 207). Even as Adams was pursuing his independent path north, tourist infrastructure was bringing the northern Australian safari experience within reach for those with little experience but sufficient funds to secure the provision of equipment, vehicles and expert advice. The Australian Crocodile Shooters’ Club, founded in 1950, predated Northern Safari, but it tapped into the same interest in the potential of northern Australia to offer adventure. It clearly associated that adventure with big game hunting and the club’s success depended on its marketing of the adventurous north to Australia’s urban population (Brennan “Africa” 403-06). Similarly, the safari camps which developed in the Northern Territory, starting with Nourlangie in 1959, promoted the adventure available in Australia’s north to those who sought to visit without necessarily roughing it. The degree of luxury that was on offer initially is questionable, but the notion of Australia’s north as a big game hunting destination supported the development of an Australian safari industry (Berzins 177-80, Brennan “Africa” 407-09). Safari entrepreneur Allan Stewart has eagerly testified to the broad appeal of the safari experience in 1960s Australia, claiming his clientele included accountants, barristers, barmaids, brokers, bankers, salesmen, journalists, actors, students, nursing sisters, doctors, clergymen, soldiers, pilots, yachtsmen, racing drivers, company directors, housewives, precocious children, air hostesses, policemen and jockeys (18).Later Additions to the Imaginary of the Northern SafariAdams’s film was made in 1955, and its subject of adventurous travel and hunting in northern Australia was taken up by a number of books during the 1960s as publishers kept the link between large game and the adventurous north alive. New Zealand author Barry Crump contributed a fictionalised account of his time hunting crocodiles in northern Australia in Gulf, first published in 1964. Crump displayed his trademark humour throughout his book, and made a running joke of the ‘best professional crocodile-shooters’ that he encountered in pubs throughout northern Australia (28-29). Certainly, the possibility of adventure and the chance to make a living as a professional hunter lured men to the north. Among those who came was Australian journalist Keith Willey who in 1966 published an account of his time crocodile hunting. Willey promoted the north as a site of adventure and rugged masculinity. On the very first page of his book he established his credentials by advising that “Hunting crocodiles is a hard trade; hard, dirty and dangerous; but mostly hard” (1). Although Willey’s book reveals that he did not make his fortune crocodile hunting he evidently revelled in its adventurous mystique and his book was sufficiently successful to be republished by Rigby in 1977. The association between the Australian north, the hunting of large animals, and adventure continued to thrive.These 1960s crocodile publications represent a period when crocodile hunting replaced buffalo hunting as a commercial enterprise in northern Australia. In the immediate post-war period crocodile skins increased in value as traditional sources became unreliable, and interest in professional hunting increased. As had been the case with Warburton, the north promised adventure to men unwilling to return to domesticity after their experiences of war (Brennan, “Crocodile” 1). This part of the northern imaginary was directly discussed by another crocodile hunting author. Gunther Bahnemann spent some time crocodile hunting in Australia before moving his operation north to poach crocodiles in Dutch New Guinea. Bahnemann had participated in the Second World War and in his book he was clear about his unwillingness to settle for a humdrum life, instead choosing crocodile hunting for his profession. As he described it: “We risked our lives to make quick money, but not easy money; yet I believe that the allure of adventure was the main motive of our expedition. It seems so now, when I think back to it” (8).In the tradition of Adams, Malcolm Douglas released his documentary film Across the Top in 1968, which was subsequently serialised for television. From around this time, television was becoming an increasingly popular medium and means of reinforcing the connection between the Australian outback and adventure. The animals of northern Australia played a role in setting the region apart from the rest of the continent. The 1970s and 1980s saw a boom in programs that presented the outback, including the north, as a source of interest and national pride. In this period Harry Butler presented In the Wild, while the Leyland brothers (Mike and Mal) created their iconic and highly popular Ask the Leyland Brothers (and similar productions) which ran to over 150 episodes between 1976 and 1980. In the cinema, Alby Mangels’s series of World Safari movies included Australia in his wide-ranging adventures. While these documentaries of outback Australia traded on the same sense of adventure and fascination with Australia’s wildlife that had promoted Northern Safari, the element of big game hunting was muted.That link was reforged in the 1980s and 1990s. Crocodile Dundee was an extremely successful movie and it again placed interactions with charismatic megafauna at the heart of the northern Australian experience (Thompson 124). The success of the film reinvigorated depictions of northern Australia as a place to encounter dangerous beasts. Capitalising on the film’s success Crump’s book was republished as Crocodile Country in 1990, and Tom Cole’s memoirs of his time in northern Australia, including his work buffalo shooting and crocodile hunting, were first published in 1986, 1988, and 1992 (and reprinted multiple times). However, Steve Irwin is probably the best known of northern Australia’s ‘crocodile hunters’, despite his Australia Zoo lying outside the crocodile’s natural range, and despite being a conservationist opposed to killing crocodiles. Irwin’s chosen moniker is ironic, given his often-stated love for the species and his commitment to preserving crocodile lives through relocating (when necessary, to captivity) rather than killing problem animals. He first appeared on Australian television in 1996, and continued to appear regularly until his death in 2006.Tourism Australia used both Hogan and Irwin for promotional purposes. While Thompson argues that at this time the significance of the crocodile was broadened to encompass Australia more generally, the examples of crocodile marketing that she lists relate to the Northern Territory, with a brief mention of Far North Queensland and the crocodile remained a signifier of northern adventure (Thompson 125-27). The depiction of Irwin as a ‘crocodile hunter’ despite his commitment to saving crocodile lives marked a larger shift that had already begun within the safari. While the title ‘safari’ retained its popularity in the late twentieth century it had come to be applied generally to organised adventurous travel with a view to seeing and capturing images of animals, rather than exclusively identifying hunting expeditions.ConclusionThe extraordinary success of Adams’s film was based on a widespread understanding of northern Australia as a type of adventure playground, populated by fascinating dangerous beasts. That imaginary was exploited but not created by Adams. It had been in existence since the nineteenth century, was particularly evident during the buffalo and crocodile hunting bubbles after the world wars, and boomed again with the popularity of the fictional Mick Dundee and the real Steve Irwin, for both of whom interacting with the charismatic megafauna of the north was central to their characters. The excitement surrounding large game still influences visions of northern Australia. At present there is no particularly striking northern bushman media personage, but the large animals of the north still regularly provoke discussion. The north’s safari camps continue to do business, trading on the availability of large game (particularly buffalo, banteng, pigs, and samba) and northern Australia’s crocodiles have established themselves as a significant source of interest among international big game hunters. Australia’s politicians regularly debate the possibility of legalising a limited crocodile safari in Australia, based on the culling of problem animals, and that debate highlights a continuing sense of Australia’s north as a place apart from the more settled, civilised south of the continent.ReferencesAdams, Keith. ’Aussie Bites.’ Australian Screen 2017. <https://aso.gov.au/titles/documentaries/northern-safari/clip2/>.———. ‘Crocodile Hunting.’ Australian Screen 2017. <https://aso.gov.au/titles/documentaries/northern-safari/clip3/>.———. Crocodile Safari Man: My Tasmanian Childhood in the Great Depression & 50 Years of Desert Safari to the Gulf of Carpentaria 1949-1999. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University Press, 2000.Bahnemann, Gunther. New Guinea Crocodile Poacher. 2nd ed. London: The Adventurers Club, 1965.Berzins, Baiba. Australia’s Northern Secret: Tourism in the Northern Territory, 1920s to 1980s. Sydney: Baiba Berzins, 2007.Brennan, Claire. "’An Africa on Your Own Front Door Step’: The Development of an Australian Safari.” Journal of Australian Studies 39.3 (2015): 396-410.———. “Crocodile Hunting.” Queensland Historical Atlas (2013): 1-3.———. "Imperial Game: A History of Hunting, Society, Exotic Species and the Environment in New Zealand and Victoria 1840-1901." Dissertation. Melbourne: University of Melbourne, 2005.Clinch, M.A. “Home on the Range: The Role of the Buffalo in the Northern Territory, 1824–1920.” Northern Perspective 11.2 (1988): 16-27.Cole, Tom. Crocodiles and Other Characters. Chippendale, NSW: Sun Australia, 1992.———. Hell West and Crooked. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1990.———. Riding the Wildman Plains: The Letters and Diaries of Tom Cole 1923-1943. Sydney: Pan Macmillan, 1992.———. Spears & Smoke Signals: Exciting True Tales by a Buffalo & Croc Shooter. Casuarina, NT: Adventure Pub., 1986.Cowan, Adam. Letter. “A Feeling of Disgust.” Canberra Times 12 Mar. 1971: 2.Crocodile Dundee. Dir. Peter Faiman. Paramount Pictures, 1986.Crump, Barry. Gulf. Wellington: A.H. & A.W. Reed, 1964.Gay, Edward. “Adventure. Tally-ho after Cape York Crocodiles.” The World’s News (Sydney), 27 Feb. 1954: 15.Nolan, Cynthia. Outback. London: Methuen & Co, 1962.Northeast, Brian. Preface. Crocodile Safari Man: My Tasmanian Childhood in the Great Depression & 50 Years of Desert Safari to the Gulf of Carpentaria 1949-1999. By Keith Adams. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University Press, 2000. vi-viii.Northern Safari. Dir. Keith Adams. Keith Adams, 1956.Northern Safari. n.d. <http://northernsafari.com/>.Stewart, Allan. The Green Eyes Are Buffaloes. Melbourne: Lansdown, 1969.Stokes, John Lort. Discoveries in Australia: With an Account of the Coasts and Rivers Explored and Surveyed during the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle in the Years 1837-38-39-40-41-42-43. By Command of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, Also a Narrative of Captain Owen Stanley's Visits to the Islands in the Arafura Sea. London: T. and W. Boone, 1846.Thompson, Linda. “’You Call That a Knife?’ The Crocodile as a Symbol of Australia”. New Voices, New Visions: Challenging Australian Identities and Legacies. Eds. Catriona Elder and Keith Moore. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars, 2012: 118-134.Warburton, Carl. Buffaloes: Adventure and Discovery in Arnhem Land. Sydney: Angus & Robertson Ltd, 1934.Willey, Keith. Crocodile Hunt. Brisbane: Jacaranda Press, 1966.

The term “coffee palace” was primarily used in Australia to describe the temperance hotels that were built in the last decades of the 19th century, although there are references to the term also being used to a lesser extent in the United Kingdom (Denby 174). Built in response to the worldwide temperance movement, which reached its pinnacle in the 1880s in Australia, coffee palaces were hotels that did not serve alcohol. This was a unique time in Australia’s architectural development as the economic boom fuelled by the gold rush in the 1850s, and the demand for ostentatious display that gathered momentum during the following years, afforded the use of richly ornamental High Victorian architecture and resulted in very majestic structures; hence the term “palace” (Freeland 121). The often multi-storied coffee palaces were found in every capital city as well as regional areas such as Geelong and Broken Hill, and locales as remote as Maria Island on the east coast of Tasmania. Presented as upholding family values and discouraging drunkenness, the coffee palaces were most popular in seaside resorts such as Barwon Heads in Victoria, where they catered to families. Coffee palaces were also constructed on a grand scale to provide accommodation for international and interstate visitors attending the international exhibitions held in Sydney (1879) and Melbourne (1880 and 1888). While the temperance movement lasted well over 100 years, the life of coffee palaces was relatively short-lived. Nevertheless, coffee palaces were very much part of Australia’s cultural landscape. In this article, I examine the rise and demise of coffee palaces associated with the temperance movement and argue that coffee palaces established in the name of abstinence were modelled on the coffee houses that spread throughout Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries during the Enlightenment—a time when the human mind could be said to have been liberated from inebriation and the dogmatic state of ignorance. The Temperance Movement At a time when newspapers are full of lurid stories about binge-drinking and the alleged ill-effects of the liberalisation of licensing laws, as well as concerns over the growing trend of marketing easy-to-drink products (such as the so-called “alcopops”) to teenagers, it is difficult to think of a period when the total suppression of the alcohol trade was seriously debated in Australia. The cause of temperance has almost completely vanished from view, yet for well over a century—from 1830 to the outbreak of the Second World War—the control or even total abolition of the liquor trade was a major political issue—one that split the country, brought thousands onto the streets in demonstrations, and influenced the outcome of elections. Between 1911 and 1925 referenda to either limit or prohibit the sale of alcohol were held in most States. While moves to bring about abolition failed, Fitzgerald notes that almost one in three Australian voters expressed their support for prohibition of alcohol in their State (145). Today, the temperance movement’s platform has largely been forgotten, killed off by the practical example of the United States, where prohibition of the legal sale of alcohol served only to hand control of the liquor traffic to organised crime. Coffee Houses and the Enlightenment Although tea has long been considered the beverage of sobriety, it was coffee that came to be regarded as the very antithesis of alcohol. When the first coffee house opened in London in the early 1650s, customers were bewildered by this strange new drink from the Middle East—hot, bitter, and black as soot. But those who tried coffee were, reports Ellis, soon won over, and coffee houses were opened across London, Oxford, and Cambridge and, in the following decades, Europe and North America. Tea, equally exotic, entered the English market slightly later than coffee (in 1664), but was more expensive and remained a rarity long after coffee had become ubiquitous in London (Ellis 123-24). The impact of the introduction of coffee into Europe during the seventeenth century was particularly noticeable since the most common beverages of the time, even at breakfast, were weak “small beer” and wine. Both were safer to drink than water, which was liable to be contaminated. Coffee, like beer, was made using boiled water and, therefore, provided a new and safe alternative to alcoholic drinks. There was also the added benefit that those who drank coffee instead of alcohol began the day alert rather than mildly inebriated (Standage 135). It was also thought that coffee had a stimulating effect upon the “nervous system,” so much so that the French called coffee une boisson intellectuelle (an intellectual beverage), because of its stimulating effect on the brain (Muskett 71). In Oxford, the British called their coffee houses “penny universities,” a penny then being the price of a cup of coffee (Standage 158). Coffee houses were, moreover, more than places that sold coffee. Unlike other institutions of the period, rank and birth had no place (Ellis 59). The coffee house became the centre of urban life, creating a distinctive social culture by treating all customers as equals. Egalitarianism, however, did not extend to women—at least not in London. Around its egalitarian (but male) tables, merchants discussed and conducted business, writers and poets held discussions, scientists demonstrated experiments, and philosophers deliberated ideas and reforms. For the price of a cup (or “dish” as it was then known) of coffee, a man could read the latest pamphlets and newsletters, chat with other patrons, strike business deals, keep up with the latest political gossip, find out what other people thought of a new book, or take part in literary or philosophical discussions. Like today’s Internet, Twitter, and Facebook, Europe’s coffee houses functioned as an information network where ideas circulated and spread from coffee house to coffee house. In this way, drinking coffee in the coffee house became a metaphor for people getting together to share ideas in a sober environment, a concept that remains today. According to Standage, this information network fuelled the Enlightenment (133), prompting an explosion of creativity. Coffee houses provided an entirely new environment for political, financial, scientific, and literary change, as people gathered, discussed, and debated issues within their walls. Entrepreneurs and scientists teamed up to form companies to exploit new inventions and discoveries in manufacturing and mining, paving the way for the Industrial Revolution (Standage 163). The stock market and insurance companies also had their birth in the coffee house. As a result, coffee was seen to be the epitome of modernity and progress and, as such, was the ideal beverage for the Age of Reason. By the 19th century, however, the era of coffee houses had passed. Most of them had evolved into exclusive men’s clubs, each geared towards a certain segment of society. Tea was now more affordable and fashionable, and teahouses, which drew clientele from both sexes, began to grow in popularity. Tea, however, had always been Australia’s most popular non-alcoholic drink. Tea (and coffee) along with other alien plants had been part of the cargo unloaded onto Australian shores with the First Fleet in 1788. Coffee, mainly from Brazil and Jamaica, remained a constant import but was taxed more heavily than tea and was, therefore, more expensive. Furthermore, tea was much easier to make than coffee. To brew tea, all that is needed is to add boiling water, coffee, in contrast, required roasting, grinding and brewing. According to Symons, until the 1930s, Australians were the largest consumers of tea in the world (19). In spite of this, and as coffee, since its introduction into Europe, was regarded as the antidote to alcohol, the temperance movement established coffee palaces. In the early 1870s in Britain, the temperance movement had revived the coffee house to provide an alternative to the gin taverns that were so attractive to the working classes of the Industrial Age (Clarke 5). Unlike the earlier coffee house, this revived incarnation provided accommodation and was open to men, women and children. “Cheap and wholesome food,” was available as well as reading rooms supplied with newspapers and periodicals, and games and smoking rooms (Clarke 20). In Australia, coffee palaces did not seek the working classes, as clientele: at least in the cities they were largely for the nouveau riche. Coffee Palaces The discovery of gold in 1851 changed the direction of the Australian economy. An investment boom followed, with an influx of foreign funds and English banks lending freely to colonial speculators. By the 1880s, the manufacturing and construction sectors of the economy boomed and land prices were highly inflated. Governments shared in the wealth and ploughed money into urban infrastructure, particularly railways. Spurred on by these positive economic conditions and the newly extended inter-colonial rail network, international exhibitions were held in both Sydney and Melbourne. To celebrate modern technology and design in an industrial age, international exhibitions were phenomena that had spread throughout Europe and much of the world from the mid-19th century. According to Davison, exhibitions were “integral to the culture of nineteenth century industrialising societies” (158). In particular, these exhibitions provided the colonies with an opportunity to demonstrate to the world their economic power and achievements in the sciences, the arts and education, as well as to promote their commerce and industry. Massive purpose-built buildings were constructed to house the exhibition halls. In Sydney, the Garden Palace was erected in the Botanic Gardens for the 1879 Exhibition (it burnt down in 1882). In Melbourne, the Royal Exhibition Building, now a World Heritage site, was built in the Carlton Gardens for the 1880 Exhibition and extended for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition. Accommodation was required for the some one million interstate and international visitors who were to pass through the gates of the Garden Palace in Sydney. To meet this need, the temperance movement, keen to provide alternative accommodation to licensed hotels, backed the establishment of Sydney’s coffee palaces. The Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company was formed in 1878 to operate and manage a number of coffee palaces constructed during the 1870s. These were designed to compete with hotels by “offering all the ordinary advantages of those establishments without the allurements of the drink” (Murdoch). Coffee palaces were much more than ordinary hotels—they were often multi-purpose or mixed-use buildings that included a large number of rooms for accommodation as well as ballrooms and other leisure facilities to attract people away from pubs. As the Australian Town and Country Journal reveals, their services included the supply of affordable, wholesome food, either in the form of regular meals or occasional refreshments, cooked in kitchens fitted with the latest in culinary accoutrements. These “culinary temples” also provided smoking rooms, chess and billiard rooms, and rooms where people could read books, periodicals and all the local and national papers for free (121). Similar to the coffee houses of the Enlightenment, the coffee palaces brought businessmen, artists, writers, engineers, and scientists attending the exhibitions together to eat and drink (non-alcoholic), socialise and conduct business. The Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace located in York Street in Sydney produced a practical guide for potential investors and businessmen titled International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney. It included information on the location of government departments, educational institutions, hospitals, charitable organisations, and embassies, as well as a list of the tariffs on goods from food to opium (1–17). Women, particularly the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) were a formidable force in the temperance movement (intemperance was generally regarded as a male problem and, more specifically, a husband problem). Murdoch argues, however, that much of the success of the push to establish coffee palaces was due to male politicians with business interests, such as the one-time Victorian premiere James Munro. Considered a stern, moral church-going leader, Munro expanded the temperance movement into a fanatical force with extraordinary power, which is perhaps why the temperance movement had its greatest following in Victoria (Murdoch). Several prestigious hotels were constructed to provide accommodation for visitors to the international exhibitions in Melbourne. Munro was responsible for building many of the city’s coffee palaces, including the Victoria (1880) and the Federal Coffee Palace (1888) in Collins Street. After establishing the Grand Coffee Palace Company, Munro took over the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor) in 1886. Munro expanded the hotel to accommodate some of the two million visitors who were to attend the Centenary Exhibition, renamed it the Grand Coffee Palace, and ceremoniously burnt its liquor licence at the official opening (Murdoch). By 1888 there were more than 50 coffee palaces in the city of Melbourne alone and Munro held thousands of shares in coffee palaces, including those in Geelong and Broken Hill. With its opening planned to commemorate the centenary of the founding of Australia and the 1888 International Exhibition, the construction of the Federal Coffee Palace, one of the largest hotels in Australia, was perhaps the greatest monument to the temperance movement. Designed in the French Renaissance style, the façade was embellished with statues, griffins and Venus in a chariot drawn by four seahorses. The building was crowned with an iron-framed domed tower. New passenger elevators—first demonstrated at the Sydney Exhibition—allowed the building to soar to seven storeys. According to the Federal Coffee Palace Visitor’s Guide, which was presented to every visitor, there were three lifts for passengers and others for luggage. Bedrooms were located on the top five floors, while the stately ground and first floors contained majestic dining, lounge, sitting, smoking, writing, and billiard rooms. There were electric service bells, gaslights, and kitchens “fitted with the most approved inventions for aiding proficients [sic] in the culinary arts,” while the luxury brand Pears soap was used in the lavatories and bathrooms (16–17). In 1891, a spectacular financial crash brought the economic boom to an abrupt end. The British economy was in crisis and to meet the predicament, English banks withdrew their funds in Australia. There was a wholesale collapse of building companies, mortgage banks and other financial institutions during 1891 and 1892 and much of the banking system was halted during 1893 (Attard). Meanwhile, however, while the eastern States were in the economic doldrums, gold was discovered in 1892 at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie in Western Australia and, within two years, the west of the continent was transformed. As gold poured back to the capital city of Perth, the long dormant settlement hurriedly caught up and began to emulate the rest of Australia, including the construction of ornately detailed coffee palaces (Freeman 130). By 1904, Perth had 20 coffee palaces. When the No. 2 Coffee Palace opened in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1880, the Australian Town and Country Journal reported that coffee palaces were “not only fashionable, but appear to have acquired a permanent footing in Sydney” (121). The coffee palace era, however, was relatively short-lived. Driven more by reformist and economic zeal than by good business sense, many were in financial trouble when the 1890’s Depression hit. Leading figures in the temperance movement were also involved in land speculation and building societies and when these schemes collapsed, many, including Munro, were financially ruined. Many of the palaces closed or were forced to apply for liquor licences in order to stay afloat. Others developed another life after the temperance movement’s influence waned and the coffee palace fad faded, and many were later demolished to make way for more modern buildings. The Federal was licensed in 1923 and traded as the Federal Hotel until its demolition in 1973. The Victoria, however, did not succumb to a liquor licence until 1967. The Sydney Coffee Palace in Woolloomooloo became the Sydney Eye Hospital and, more recently, smart apartments. Some fine examples still survive as reminders of Australia’s social and cultural heritage. The Windsor in Melbourne’s Spring Street and the Broken Hill Hotel, a massive three-story iconic pub in the outback now called simply “The Palace,” are some examples. Tea remained the beverage of choice in Australia until the 1950s when the lifting of government controls on the importation of coffee and the influence of American foodways coincided with the arrival of espresso-loving immigrants. As Australians were introduced to the espresso machine, the short black, the cappuccino, and the café latte and (reminiscent of the Enlightenment), the post-war malaise was shed in favour of the energy and vigour of modernist thought and creativity, fuelled in at least a small part by caffeine and the emergent café culture (Teffer). Although the temperance movement’s attempt to provide an alternative to the ubiquitous pubs failed, coffee has now outstripped the consumption of tea and today’s café culture ensures that wherever coffee is consumed, there is the possibility of a continuation of the Enlightenment’s lively discussions, exchange of news, and dissemination of ideas and information in a sober environment. References Attard, Bernard. “The Economic History of Australia from 1788: An Introduction.” EH.net Encyclopedia. 5 Feb. (2012) ‹http://eh.net/encyclopedia/article/attard.australia›. Blainey, Anna. “The Prohibition and Total Abstinence Movement in Australia 1880–1910.” Food, Power and Community: Essays in the History of Food and Drink. Ed. Robert Dare. Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1999. 142–52. Boyce, Francis Bertie. “Shall I Vote for No License?” An address delivered at the Convention of the Parramatta Branch of New South Wales Alliance, 3 September 1906. 3rd ed. Parramatta: New South Wales Alliance, 1907. Clarke, James Freeman. Coffee Houses and Coffee Palaces in England. Boston: George H. Ellis, 1882. “Coffee Palace, No. 2.” Australian Town and Country Journal. 17 Jul. 1880: 121. Davison, Graeme. “Festivals of Nationhood: The International Exhibitions.” Australian Cultural History. Eds. S. L. Goldberg and F. B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 158–77. Denby, Elaine. Grand Hotels: Reality and Illusion. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. Ellis, Markman. The Coffee House: A Cultural History. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004. Federal Coffee Palace. The Federal Coffee Palace Visitors’ Guide to Melbourne, Its Suburbs, and Other Parts of the Colony of Victoria: Views of the Principal Public and Commercial Buildings in Melbourne, With a Bird’s Eye View of the City; and History of the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880, etc. Melbourne: Federal Coffee House Company, 1888. Fitzgerald, Ross, and Trevor Jordan. Under the Influence: A History of Alcohol in Australia. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2009. Freeland, John. The Australian Pub. Melbourne: Sun Books, 1977. Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace. International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney, Restaurant and Temperance Hotel. Sydney: Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace, 1879. Mitchell, Ann M. “Munro, James (1832–1908).” Australian Dictionary of Biography. Canberra: National Centre of Biography, Australian National U, 2006-12. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/munro-james-4271/text6905›. Murdoch, Sally. “Coffee Palaces.” Encyclopaedia of Melbourne. Eds. Andrew Brown-May and Shurlee Swain. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00371b.htm›. Muskett, Philip E. The Art of Living in Australia. New South Wales: Kangaroo Press, 1987. Standage, Tom. A History of the World in 6 Glasses. New York: Walker & Company, 2005. Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company Limited. Memorandum of Association of the Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company, Ltd. Sydney: Samuel Edward Lees, 1879. Symons, Michael. One Continuous Picnic: A Gastronomic History of Australia. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2007. Teffer, Nicola. Coffee Customs. Exhibition Catalogue. Sydney: Customs House, 2005.

At the end of the episode “Crowd Pleasers,” from her television series Nigella Feasts, we see British food writer and television cook Nigella Lawson in her nightgown opening her fridge in the dark. The fridge light reveals the remnant dishes of chili con carne that she prepared earlier on in the programme. She scoops up a dollop of soured cream and chili onto a spoon and shovels it into her mouth, nods approvingly and then picks up the entire chili dish. She eats another mouthful, utters a satisfied “umm” sound, closes the fridge door and walks away, taking the dish of chili with her. This recurring scenario at the end of Nigella’s programmes is paradoxically constructed as a private moment to be witnessed by many viewers. It resembles acts of secret eating, personal food habits and offers a glimpse of the performed self, adding to Nigella’s persona. Throughout Nigella’s programmes there is a conscious tension between the private and public. This tension is confounded by Nigella’s acknowledgement of, and direct address to, the viewers, characterised by the knowing look she gives to the camera when she tastes her food, licks her fingers as she cooks, or reveals her secret chocolate stash in her store cupboard; the overt performance of supposedly surreptitious gestures. Through her look-back at the camera Nigella performs both sin and confession, communicating her guilty-pleasure as she self-consciously reveals this pleasure to the viewers. At the start of her performance Table Occasions (2000), solo artist Bobby Baker explains that there are strict rules that she must follow, the most important being that she must not walk on the floor. Baker then hosts a dinner party (for imaginary guests), balancing on top of the table and chairs wearing high-heeled shoes. When the ‘meal’ is finished Baker breaks her rule; she gets down from the table and walks freely across the performance space, giving the audience a knowing look of mock-surprise, as if everyone was seduced into believing in the compulsory nature of her rule (Table Occasions).In this performance Baker confesses her anxiety and discomfort in the act of playing the host. By breaking rules of common etiquette as well as her own abstract rules, she performatively constructs her “sins” and her “confessions.” Baker’s look-back at the audience reveals her self-conscious “confessing self.” Confessing the SelfAs a practitioner-researcher working in the field of autobiography, developing from artists such as Baker, my practice attempts to articulate the impact that popular cultural performances of food may have upon current notions of food, identity and the self. I seek to use food as a vehicle for investigating and revealing multiple versions of self. The “confessing subject” in contemporary performance practice has been discussed extensively by Deirdre Heddon, particularly as a means of “questioning the subject of confession” (Daily 230). This paper is concerned with acts of disclosure (and confession) that occur through food in popular culture and performance practice. My particular focus will be my durational performance work If I knew you were coming I’d have baked a cake, commissioned by the Alsager Arts Centre Gallery, as part of the Curating Knowledge Residency Programme initiated by gallery curator Jane Linden. I will explore strategies of performative disclosure through food in both live and mediated contexts, in order to investigate Heddon’s distinction between “confessional performance art” and “the gamut of currently available mass-mediated confessional opportunities” (Daily 232). My aim is to explore a current cultural relationship between food, confession and autobiography through the lens of performance. My concern lies in the performance of self and the ways in which the self is disclosed through food and I use Nigella’s and Baker’s performances, as confessional/autobiographical material, to develop my argument. Although operating in different mediums, Baker (as performance artist), and Nigella (as media personality), both use food to perform the self and employ autobiographical strategies to reveal aspects of their personal domestic lives to their audience.It is necessary to acknowledge that Nigella is first and foremost a commodity and her programmes function as part mediation of her cooking brand, along with her cookbooks and cookware. Intentionality aside, I am interested in the ways in which Nigella engages her viewers, which is culturally indicative of the wider phenomenon of the celebrity chef and strategies of performative disclosure operating through food. My argument rests on the premise that Nigella’s strategies are similar to those used by Baker resulting in a slippage in Nigella’s position between Heddon’s opposing categories. Nigella not only adopts a confessional, intimate and personal mode of address but also uses it to construct her persona, lifestyle and perform a version of her autobiography. Gabrielle Helms, in analysing reality TV programmes such as Big Brother, observes that Through the use of direct camera address, the confession creates the sense of immediacy and urgency needed to establish a special ‘live’ relationship between speaker and audience, one that remains unattainable in written confession (53).Nigella also establishes a “live” relationship with her audience through her personal and direct camera address. Yet Nigella’s programmes are only reflective of her supposed actual domestic life. We witness fragmented images of her pampering in her bedroom, carefully choosing vegetables from a market stall and taking her children to school. The seamless flow of these constructed “life” images perform a mock-autobiography of Nigella’s life. Baker’s practice is rooted in the domestic and through her use of food in performance she communicates her ‘everyday’ experiences as a wife, mother and artist. Baker’s work belongs to a field of resistant arts practice through which she discloses her often painful and difficult relationship to femininity and the domestic. Baker has stated “food is like my own language” (Iball 75), and it is a highly visceral, visual language that she uses to communicate her autobiographical material. Lucy Baldwin describes that Baker’s “taboos collect around the visceral qualities of food: its proximity to the body and to emotions, and its ability to represent what we would rather forget” (37). Baker often uses foods in ways that invoke the internal body. In Drawing on a Mother’s Experience, she narrates personal stories of motherhood whilst marking foodstuffs onto a sheet to map out her memories and experiences. In Baker’s final moment she rolls herself up in the sheet, The foodstuffs begin to bleed through the second skin of the sheet. Gradually, this seepage takes on the appearance of internal organs-a mapping of capillaries and veins, a tacit revelation of interior matters (Baldwyn 51). The blending of both food and memories marked onto Baker’s body discloses a fluid, unstable identity. As Claire MacDonald states Baker “allows the self to operate as a site where the meanings of identity can be contested” (191). By nature, autobiographical performance problematises notions of identity and self and there is always a tension between the real and the fictional. Sidonie Smith and Julia Watson have stated that:Autobiographical acts[…]cannot be understood as individualist acts of a sovereign subject, whole and entire unto itself. And the representation produced cannot be taken as a guarantee of a ‘true self’, authentic, coherent, and fixed (11). Baker’s construction of “self” is multi-faceted, sitting in between the fictional and the “real.” Using food, Baker layers together the pieces of “Bobby,” past and present, onto her live body and unites her “self” with her other “selves” in an intimate and ‘real’ shared experience with a live audience; the weaving of a complex, engaging and moving autobiography. My interest is to further explore how food can be used to disclose and contest identity. Food ExposuresFood is inherent in social and public events, in meal times and celebrations, yet food is also kept behind closed doors and inside domestic kitchens constituting the stuff of private lives. Crossing the realms of private and public, food has become a vehicle for spectacle and entertainment in media culture and is used to reveal identities, subjectivities and personal histories. Cooking programmes belong to the hybrid reality TV genre, frequently termed “infotainment.” Signe Hansen has usefully observed that “when we watch shows like Big Brother, Survivor or Temptation Island, our position as consumers is exactly that of watching Jamie Oliver [or] Nigella Lawson” (55). Helms has also argued that reality TV shows “focus on auto/biographical performance,” and asks, “are the lives represented on these shows, and the ways they are represented, reflections of contemporary understandings of self and identity?” (46). In this vein, I propose that the lives represented in food media such as Nigella’s are also constructed through the autobiographical, and Nigella’s particular relationship with food furthers a trend of self-disclosure that capitulates into abject voyeurism. Television chefs each have their own unique, “hypertrophied personality” (Govan and Rebellato 36). Nigella’s persona is characterised through her personal and casual address, which bridges the gap between “food expert” (performer) and “novice” (viewer) previously circumscribed by food experts like Delia Smith. Hansen fittingly observes that “the experience of befriending, of coming to ‘know,’ the person behind the persona is one of the particularities of today’s media climate” (55). Nigella allows us to “know” her better by revealing her greed, laziness, messiness and lack of self-control. She reveals her personal relationship to recipes, such as those originating from her grandmother, or cooking utensils that hold sentimental value, like her mother’s wooden spoon. The glimpses of self that Nigella exposes through food are framed as confession and privilege her viewers with “inside knowledge.” Although the fictional/real tension prevails, it is the performance of autobiography that is significant here. The mock-autobiographical address entices viewers and transforms what is essentially an advertisement into a particular practice of visual engagement, one that is founded upon the pleasures of witnessing and consuming disclosures. In the case of reality TV an element of guilty pleasure remains on the part of the viewer, who is learning about someone’s private life without having to reciprocate[…]By observing others from a position of omniscience, viewers can live vicariously and can engage without having to take responsibility[…]they can move between attraction and revulsion without consequences for themselves (Helms 55).Both Nigella and Baker embody “attraction and revulsion” to different ends—in Kitchen show (1991), Baker performs thirteen actions that each result in a “mark” being left on her body. Baker’s sixth action is opening a fresh tub of margarine, confessing her delight in the “satisfying nipple peak in the centre.” Baker then subverts her desire, smearing the margarine onto her face, crossing between “attraction” and “revulsion.” Baker’s marks “defamiliarize the ordinary and everyday to provoke new […] disturbing insights” (Blumberg 197).In contrast to the sanitised aesthetic trope of cooking programmes, in which ingredients are pre-prepared and separated into glass bowls, “the hallucination of hygiene” (Govan and Rebellato 37), Nigella gets her hands dirty and heightens moments when her body comes into contact with food. In her “Comfort Food” episode from Nigella Bites, she aggressively pierces the insides of the lemon declaring, “I quite like this ritual disembowelling of the lemon.” Her fingertips often disappear into her mouth as she licks and tastes the food that she “disembowels.” Using Kristeva’s theory of abjection, Emma Govan and Dan Rebellato acknowledge the precariousness of the boundaries of the body, stating that “the passages into and out of the body are always dangerous sites for the self” (33). Nigella crosses the boundaries of etiquette and hygiene and exposes an open, wanting body that is both “repulsive” and “attractive”. Her persona is also characterised through the trope of consumer seduction, in terms of her adopting a flirtatious manner and playful aligning of cooking acts with sexual pleasure. She seductively describes the “wonderful primrose emulsion” colour of the lemon sauce, which matches her own yellow T-shirt, thus presenting her self as food, becoming both desirable and consumable. However, Nigella’s sexualised gluttony borders on the grotesque; risotto made, Nigella confesses that, “in theory, this would be enough supper for two, in practice, I rather feel, one”. She eats it immediately, standing in the kitchen eagerly taking in large spoonfuls whilst glancing knowingly at the camera. Bakhtin’s notion of the “grotesque body,” Bob Ashley, Joanne Hollows, Steve Jones and Ben Taylor point out “is frequently associated with food. It is a devouring body, a body in the process of over-indulging, eating, drinking, vomiting and defecating” (43) and Nigella renders her own body grotesque. However, in contrast to Baker, the grotesque in this context functions to seduce a consumer audience and perpetuate the voyeuristic gaze. Nigella is part of a culture in which the abject (improper) body and taboo eating habits are fetishised through media constructions of self. Self DisclosuresElspeth Probyn draws attention to the trend of media food disclosures, “listen carefully to the new generation of television chefs, and one will hear them tiptoeing along a fine line that threatens to collapse into terrifying public intimacy” (20). This rather unnerving concern resonates with Heddon’s observation of a current “cultural omnipresence of autobiography” (Autobiography 161). Heddon suggests that “if we were confessing animals in the 1970s, we have by now surely mutated into monsters” (Autobiography 160) and questions the implications for performance, asking if “a resistant autobiographical practice is even any longer a possibility?” (Autobiography 161). Heddon posits Irene Gammel’s term “confessional interventions” as a potential self-conscious, subversion strategy that autobiographical performance practice can adopt. For Heddon, Baker “refuses the voyeuristic gaze” by only confessing “the mundane” and never allowing us access to one true version of self,Baker’s ‘secrets’ are not only moments of refusal, or moments of ‘privacy in public’, they also perform spaces in which I, in the role of spectator, can bring myself into (the) ‘play’ as I fill in her gaps with my own stories. Who then is the confessing subject here? (Autobiography 164).In my practice I am seeking to use autobiography to “strategically play with the mode of confession” (Autobiography 163) and pass comment on the ways that food functions in popular culture as a vehicle for disclosure, and perpetuates the voyeuristic gaze. My interventionist strategy then, is to investigate how notions of the self can be represented through performative acts of disclosure, in which versions of the self are manipulated, revisited and retold. All performance is citational and I would argue that a deliberate, self-conscious acknowledgement of that citation is a useful means to problematise the mock confessional, whilst maintaining an autobiographical mode of address. Heddon has also acknowledged that,In the performance of autobiography, the always already fictional nature of the autobiographical mode is made explicit. Such an acceptance and revelation of the constructed nature of the autobiography is vital in its connection to the constructed nature of ‘identity’ and the ‘self’ (Glory 2).This strategy is evident in both Nigella’s and Baker’s performances if we return once again to their knowing look-back at the audience/camera. Their looks re-play their own citational context and communicate a “knowingness” that they are ‘playing’ themselves, and in doing so they refuse the very possibility of an ‘autobiography’. If I Knew You Were Coming I’d Have Baked a CakeMy performance work investigated how cakes and baking could be used to create and perform a version of my autobiography. The work existed both as a performative durational process and an artwork that communicated through predominantly non-verbal means. Using cake decorating techniques I designed a large cake sculpture consisting of a number of cakes that were representative of significant occasions, relationships and memories throughout my life. The sculpture was baked, decorated and assembled over five days in the gallery and spectators were invited to witness each stage of my process. The sculpture featured cakes from my past, such as memorable birthday cakes. Other cakes were newly created to represent memories in which there was no cake present to that occasion, such as saying farewell to my family home. All of the cakes were used in new ways to disclose a version of my autobiography. The work simultaneously constituted and represented a number of autobiographical processes. Firstly, prior to the project I underwent cake decorating tuition over a period of ten weeks and the performance acted as documentation of this learning process; secondly, through the act of baking and decorating I engaged in processes of revisiting and remembering personal experiences; and finally the cake sculpture became a living autobiography of my durational time in the gallery and the physical experience of creating the artwork. As a keen baker my interest in cakes has developed into my artistic practice. Here I want to briefly propose the significance of cakes (in British culture) as mediators and markers of identities and relationships. Cakes are used to signify and commemorate occasions and social rituals. Cakes function as rewards and treats, and they mark the pivotal moment of a meal or end of a celebration. Cakes are shared between friends and they are present in the personal and particular experience of those individuals. A cake is not just a cake; as a symbol a cake can hold associations, memories and feelings and act as mediators for social interaction. Probyn raises an idea introduced by Nigella that “baking equates with the ‘ability to be part of life’” (5) and from my own experiences I can recall how cakes somehow enabled me to feel part of life, as a child baking in the kitchen, thinking, doing, creating, making decisions and mistakes, that impacted upon my relationships and connection to time and place. My performance investigated how cakes could be used to perform versions of self and here, I will unpick the strategies of performative disclosure (as a means of “confessional intervention”) that were used to construct multiple representations of the self and explore the dialogic relationship between them. In doing so I will disclose my own intentions, experiences and discoveries in order to problematise my role as both subject and creator of the work. Baking My AutobiographyProgramme notes were displayed at the entrance to the gallery and provided a map of the space outlining the function of each room. These notes were written as if addressing the spectators directly and contextualised the work through confessing my deliberate re-appropriation of Nigella’s “domestic goddess” persona: Hello, my name is Jenny and I want to be a Domestic Goddess. Welcome to my world of cakes and baking. Here in the gallery I am attempting to bake my autobiography. I have designed a large cake-sculpture that I will be baking and creating during the week. Every part of my cake has been individually constructed using memories and experiences from my past. Each area of the gallery is devoted to a particular part of my process… The entrance to the gallery opened up into a small corridor space that I titled “The Domestic Goddess Hall of Fame.” Hanging on the wall in chronological order were five portrait photographs of historical British female food personalities including, Mrs Beeton, Fanny Craddock, Delia Smith and Nigella Lawson. The fifth and last photograph was of me. I deliberately wrote “myself” into a visual narrative of significant female cooks, with their own cooking styles. From the outset I attempted to situate my autobiography within a culture of self-referentiality (see fig. 1). Figure 1. Image: Rory Francis. “The Domestic Goddess Hall of Fame”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. The other areas in the gallery included a kitchen where I baked the cakes; a cake cooling room, where the finished cakes cooled, assisted by portable fans; a cake decorating corner where I conducted the sugar craft and exhibited an array of equipment and materials; and a display room, in which the finished cakes were arranged into the final sculpture. The audience were invited to participate in various activities, such as licking the bowl, assisting me with simple baking tasks and receiving a decorating demonstration. On the final day the finished cake sculpture was cut-up and offered to the audience who shared in the communal eating of my-life-in-cake (see fig. 2 and fig.3).Figure 2. Image: Anonymous Audience Member. Performer: Jenny Lawson. “The Cake Cooling Room and The Sugar Craft Corner”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. Figure 3. Image: Anonymous Audience Member. Performer: Jenny Lawson.” The Kitchen”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. The isolating and displaying of each process revealed the mechanics behind both the artwork and the experiences of cake decorating. Yet the unveiling of these processes in the citational space of a gallery was intended to point up the construction of “personal” domestic space. Although I welcomed the audience into “my kitchen” and lived and breathed the duration of the project, there was no mistaking that this space was a gallery and bore no “real” resemblance to my (domestic) self or my autobiography, in the same way that Nigella’s domestic mise-en-scene, constitutes both her kitchen and her studio. In keeping with Heddon’s advocated “confessional intervention” the spectators were not presented with a clear autobiographical narrative. Rather, the cakes were used alongside structuring devices to present a collection of experiences that could be revisited, manipulated and retold; devices I devised in accordance with Daniel Schachter’s notion that,Memories are records of how we have experienced events, not replicas of the events themselves […] we construct our autobiographies from fragments of experience that change over time (qtd. in Smith and Watson 9). The durational nature of the project meant that audience members witnessed my cakes at varying stages of development and on the first morning there were no completed cakes present in the display room. However, three diagrammatic drawings were displayed on the walls depicting different versions of what the final sculpture may look like; technical drawings of top and side projections and a more personal mapping of fragmented stories and memories (see fig. 4). Figure 4. Image: Rory Francis. Performer: Jenny Lawson. “Side Projection Scale 1:4.5”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. Twenty-two nametags were carefully positioned on the display table indicating where the finished cakes would eventually be placed. The names of each cake were indicative of an event or memory such as, “The Big Pink Sofa” or “Failed Mother’s Day” and performatively framed each cake within a personal narrative. Each cake had its own song, which the audience could play out loud on an Ipod at any point during the process, whether they were looking at the finished cake or just its nametag and a blank space. The songs were designed to locate my memories within a shared cultural frame of reference that although specific to my memory, would evoke associations personal to the viewers allowing the possibility of other self-narratives to arise from the work. The audience were also invited to take part in the continual documenting of my process. A plasma TV screen in the corner of the gallery that I titled “Cake Moments,” displayed a continual loop of photographs of past cakes from my life. The audience were instructed to take photographs of any interesting “cake moments” they encountered during their stay and at the end of each day these were added to the display. Like the cake sculpture, this collection of photographs built up over the five days. Many visitors chose to photograph themselves interacting in some way with the cakes and baking materials, thus becoming part of my autobiography. The photographs looped in random order and blurred together personal life shots with the constructed shots from the gallery, fictionalising the audience participation and potentially disrupting any singular notion of self (see fig. 5).These interactive features performatively disclosed fragments of personal memory and served to involve the audience in the self-conscious authoring of my autobiography. Whatever the stage of the process, the audience were encouraged to fill in the gaps with their own self-narratives. To return to Heddon’s question, “Who then is the confessing subject here?” (164). I find a possible answer lies inside my cakes. The UndisclosableMy memories, like a cake, were beaten and mixed together and like the icing, bled into each other to create a fluid yet fragmented autobiography. The finished cake sculpture combined an array of colours, textures, tastes, shapes and images. Some cakes were inscribed with photographs, personal texts, quirky features (a tower of custard cream biscuits) and disturbing details (a red gash cutting through a cake’s surface or a deliberately burnt black “Failed Mother’s Day” heart) (see fig. 6) Figure 5. Image: Anonymous Audience Member. Performer: Jenny Lawson. “Cake Sculpture”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. As an artistic tool I found the layered form of a cake enabled me to represent multiple versions of memories and disclose complex feelings (albeit highly subjective) through a visually expressive and creative art form. In keeping with Bakhtinian dialogism, in which the self is only constructed through the interrelationship with the other, I performatively disclosed a version of my autobiography that was not located somewhere inside me, but somewhere in between both mine and the audience’s subjectivities. As Michael Holquist has expounded from Bakhtin:In order to see ourselves, we must appropriate the vision of others[…]the Bakhtinian just-so story of subjectivity is the tale of how I get my self from the other: it is only the other’s categories that will let me be an object for my own perception. (28)This inter-relationship between “self” and “other” was epitomised through the act of communal ingestion and the spirit of event-ness that comes with the territory of food. Once cut up, dismembered and eaten the cakes revealed all, in the same way that my process had exposed in its duration and excess the mess, my exhaustion, the remnants of congealed icing and the smudges and stains on my aprons. Yet in concealing nothing, the work inherently refused to disclose. Once the cakes passed through the mouth of the “other” they gave way to that “other”, that “self”, revealing only cake and sugar. The mouth machine is central to the articulation of different orders that go beyond the division of public and private: the tongue sticks out, draws in food, objects and people. In eating we constantly take in and spit out things, people, selves. (Probyn 21)In giving my cakes and “myself” to the spectators, I relinquished ownership of both my cakes and the artwork. I looked on as my cakes were eaten and destroyed, redirecting the voyeuristic gaze towards the audience and the private, personal, undisclosable experience of ingestion (see fig. 7)I started out baking myself, but I ended up baking you, and then together we ate each other. Figure 6. Image: Anonymous Audience Member. Performer: Jenny Lawson. “Cake and Sugar”. If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake. 2009. ReferencesAshley, Bob, Joanne Hollows, Steve Jones, and Ben Taylor, eds. Food and Cultural Studies. London and New York: Routledge, 2004.Baldwyn, Lucy. “Blending In: The Immaterial Art of Bobby Baker’s Culinary Events.” The Drama Review 40.4 (1996): 37–55.Blumberg, Marcia. “Domestic Place as Contestatory Space: The Kitchen as Catalyst and Crucible.” New Theatre Quarterly 55.33 (1998): 195–201. Govan, Emma, and Dan Rebellato. “Foodscares!” Performance Research: On Cooking 4.1 (1999): 31–40. 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