The thing about the programme that I do find appealing though is finding out what luxury each desert islander chooses to take with them. Nicholas Parsons, I remember, tried, very sensibly - but unsuccessfully - for an unlimited supply of fresh water. Boris Johnson, on the other hand, demanded a huge pot of Dijon mustard, which he seemed to think would hide the taste of any nasty food he found to eat.
A bed I suppose would probably be the most useful of all items, but when I try to imagine what I'd choose I discover a streak of frivolity always getting the upper hand. Sometimes I think an endless supply of crisps would be perfect or never-ending plates of toasted cheese; at other times, I prefer the idea of an inexhaustible bottle of a scent called Caleche, or this soap, which would not only remind me of comfortable houses but give me hours of pleasure (pleasure?), thinking about the British royal family washing themselves:
; usually I return to my mainstay though, which is the self-portrait of van Eyck that they have in the National Gallery in London. I have the impression that I could look at that forever - I certainly never get sick of visiting it, but as I write this I begin to wonder whether living with it might actually be too much of a good thing. A question I will possibly never know the answer to in this case is: would familiarity eventually breed contempt?
And speaking of contempt, even though I seem to spend more of my time than is sensible engaged in housework, it has never crossed my mind to select a vacuum cleaner or a steam iron or anything to do with cooking as my luxury, (not, of course, that anyone has actually ever asked me either - but I like to be prepared). I realise too that a really comfortable pair of shoes would probably be terrifically handy, but I'm banking on the possibility that I'll be wearing those already, when I arrive.
When the chips are down, (or the toasted cheese and scented van Eyck portraits), I recognise in the end what would really be the best thing to take of all - a horse, because horses are a) such nice personalities, (on the whole - it would be bad luck if one got a mean one), b) useful for gardening and c) we could canter about from place to place, if the island turned out to be big.
What would other people choose? I'm sure there are much more exciting things I should be packing that I haven't even thought of. Ooh and look, how riveting - here's a comprehensive list of everything anyone who has ever actually been on the programme has decided they couldn't live without.
Today I noticed Marooned: The Next Generation of Desert Island Discs on the outside carts at Second Story Books. At Powell's, I find that "Featuring original contributions from todays leading music critics, Marooned is a revealing snapshot of the current state of pop music criticism. A follow-up and homage to Greil Marcus's rock-and-roll classic Stranded, Marooned asks the same question: What album would you bring to a desert island, and why?"
ReplyDeleteA local NPR affiliate used to run its own DDD, of which I remember only that somebody prefaced his selection of Mahler with Tom Lehrer's song "Alma, Tell Us". And the Harrisburg affiliate had a DDD, too. The time we heard it, a state legislator was coming up with some pretty weak selections.
The BBC would claim, I think, that theirs is still 'the original and the best' though.
ReplyDeleteZ: I can't see how it could fail to be better than Harrisburg's, and I'm happy to suppose it's better that the local one was.
DeleteGD: In the newspaper article that first told me that DDD was not an invention of our local NPR affiliate, I read of somebody or another who had died with his record list in this shirt pocket, never having achieved his ambition. I'm inclined to be wary, though, either of the article or of my recollection, for I think I remember reading that John Cleese's luxury was a plaster of paris bust of Margaret Thatcher and a softball bat.
And I have no Oscar acceptance speech ready, though in a pinch I could improvise something short & sweet, along the lines of "You pretentious SOBs have cost me too many Saturday nights I will never get back."
The compulsory thing to say is 'I'm humbled'
DeleteI know where you're coming from. I've always maintained that, as every American supposed has his or her Oscar acceptence speech ready regardless of whether he or her works in the film industry, every British person (of the Radio 4 type, of which I am definitely one) has his or her 8 racords and luxury item ready for the desert island. I suspect you might put your fist through that van Eyck painting sometime into the 3rd year. As I suspect I might soon rip up the pair Mrs Dilo's (unwashed) pyjamas. There are some fascinating items on that list you link to - "lots and lots of chocolate" is as sensible as any.
ReplyDeleteYes, I think the crisps would in the end provide more solace than the painting. While I'll eat it when it's there, chocolate has never been my most beloved foodstuff.
DeleteIs it the just-gave-my-hair-a-damn-good-shampoo turban?
ReplyDeleteIf that's your choice, you are very welcome, Denis
DeleteI'd be tempted to ask for camouflage netting, so that there wouldn't be any chance of being rescued, but I think that I'd probably settle for a tool kit and a copy of Vanity Fair (or the complete Dickens).
ReplyDeleteMusic-wise, if I had a selection of Sibelius, Beethoven, Bach, Ravel, Vaughan Williams and Shostakovich, I'd be perfectly happy.
I'd go Dickens out of those two and for music Victoria Mullova playing Mendelsohn's violin concerto plus a string quartet by him thatI love, Schubert's Erlkonig, a song by Finzi I pnce heard on Desert ID in fact, Byrd's song mourning Tallis, Dvorak cello concerto, Haydn's cello concerto, Mozart's overture to Cosi fan Tutte, Beethoven's triple concerto - that is probably more than allowed
DeleteThanks for the link to that fascinating list. I like Barry Humphries choice of book (old Melbourne street directory). Streets ahead as the best choice of luxury is clearly Paul Tortelier's (photograph of one's wife). A close second has to go to David Davis (a magic wine cellar that never runs out). But I wonder why non-one's ever gone for a really ambitious luxury e.g. a transplanted, fully inhabited French village with a comfortable hotel? Would that be against the rules?
ReplyDeleteThat is nem szabad I think. Were you really sincere re Tortelier, of course, you would ask for your actual wife as your luxury, rather than just a picture of her.
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