Mental Floss’s John Green offers a fascinating insight to the world of US newspaper funnies.
The Garfield Without Garfield website he mentions is here.
Previously: Things You Thought You Knew About Booze
From top: Dublin girl, 1940s, a religious procession, 1940s; Upper Gardiner Street, late 1960s; Residents from Foley Street block of part of Talbot Street in protest for better housing, 1980; .Summerhill, 1980; St Michael’s Hill, early 1900s, and Abbey Cottages, Upper Abbey Street (date unknown).
Kidnapped Irish Princess ‘Melkork’ and her son Olaf with spouse/kidnapper Hoskuld in background.
She gave Hoskuld the silent treatment for three years.
He would look back on it as their happiest time together.
Sibling of Daedalus writes:
Just browsing through the Laxdæla saga when I came across the story of Melkorka, an Irish princess abducted as a slave (the exact word is ‘bondswoman’) by Icelandic raiders back in 910 or so.
In protest against her enslavement, she refused to utter a word, and her purchaser, Hoskuld the Viking, only discovered she was able to talk three years later when he overheard her chatting in Irish to their son (see pic above).
Melkorka getting her voice back proved a mixed blessing for Hoskuld; domestic tiffs between her and his primary wife became so frequent and heated that she had to be given her own farm at the other end of the island and, later married off to Thorbjorn the Feeble.
Melkorka’s son with Hoskuld, Olaf the Peacock, became one of Iceland’s premier heroes and never forgot his Irish origins, even making a visit to see his relatives back in the auld sod after he had grown up (some say Melkorka’s marriage to Thorbjorn was to assist him in obtaining funding for this trip).
Melkorka’s story (apart from the royal descent and the self-imposed silence) was not unusual.
With few of their own women prepared to make the trip to Iceland, its settlers had to look for home comforts closer by, and, even today, a very considerable portion of Icelanders (some say as high as fifty percent) are of Irish descent in the matrilineal line…
He had a ‘crying chair’ made of stones.
Sibling of Daedalus writes:
In the early 20th century, White Rock Cave, Killiney/Dalkey (above) was the home of a mysterious hermit who slept in a hammock.
Some say that he was a veteran of the Boer War, others of the Great War; others that he was an eccentric member of the Kavanagh family who lived nearby at Retreat Cottage. But whatever his origin and history, the name by which he was popularly known as was ‘Decco’, and his cave as ‘Decco’s Cave’.
The cave was a great source of mystery to local children. He had a habit of chasing marauding infant intruders up the beach with an axe; perhaps this was where the other rumour, of White Rock Cave being the home of flesh-eating bandits, originated?
Nowadays Decco is long dead, you’re more likely to find cannabis than cannibals in White Rock Cave and the only mysterious hermit in the locality is Enya, who can afford a grander bolthole.
Illustrations from the Yesterday TV series Secret Life Of… in which figures from history are sartorially updated.
Above: Hipster Shakespeare, socialite Marie Antoinette, a slimmed-down Versace-wearing Henry VIII, an
Anne Robinson Tilda Swinton-ized Elizabeth I and, eh, Admiral Lord Nelson.