Fascinating Ida
I wish I could get as much publicity for fotoLibra as this little dinosaur has been getting. Still, it took her 47 million years to come to prominence, so we can wait awhile yet.
The unveiling of the fossil has come as part of a carefully-orchestrated publicity campaign, unusual for scientific discoveries, but to me the intriguing thing about the story is that Darwinius masillae, familiarly known as Ida, was discovered in a quarry near Darmstadt, Germany as long ago as 1983, and the bloke who discovered it kept it hidden in his (he could only have been a man) collection for 25 years.
What sort of person does that? If I’m proud of something, I tell everyone. I want everyone to know, and to share my pleasure.
Some people are exactly the opposite. If they possess or know something rare or valuable, they want no one else to see it. They want to have it all to themselves.
I love follies. So much so, I co-wrote a book about them to share my enjoyment. Then I co-founded the Folly Fellowship, to spread the word and get more and more people interested. This was easy meat for journalists, lots of great stories and anecdotes, wonderful copy. So the Folly Fellowship got lots of publicity, and I had great fun. Every time there was an article about us, more people joined.
I thought this was a Good Thing, but others on the Committee disagreed. They felt all this press attention was vulgar, and that follies should be the preserve of an educated, intellectual few. They wanted to publish academic journals and learned articles, and couldn’t be having with the οἱ πολλοί picnicking and littering all over their sacred groves.
They wanted to keep follies for themselves, to keep the thrill of private ownership. I can dimly comprehend that — I really only want to see follies when I’m by myself or with one other person — but I want the world to share my pleasure and excitement with them. They didn’t, so I was thrown out.
Like the discoverer of the Darmstadt dinosaur (OK, I know it’s a sort of lemur and not a dinosaur but I like the alliteration) the Committee of the Folly Fellowship has now succeeded in returning follies to the obscurity from which I plucked them. As the Michael Martin of the Folly Fellowship (came from nowhere, ousted before my time, a complete shit) I should be able to understand this need for secrecy.
But I can’t. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
June 30th, 2009 at 14:45
Gwyn,
Sorry you still feel this way -some of us would like to share our follies with the world, and some of us would like you back in the fold actively promoting them. I don’t know who the ‘keep it to ourselves’ people were, but I’m hoping they’ve moved on by now. The recent outings have shown what a jolly bunch most of the FF are.
Right- back inside my hermitage (no address supplied).
Alan
July 1st, 2009 at 10:33
I don’t have to name names. They know who they are. And they caused me so much misery and grief. I’m too old to suffer such humiliation again.
Follies were the major interest in my life from the age of five. A few people (only a very few) did their damnedest to try and destroy that. I still don’t know why.
One example: when my mother was dying I had to attend an FF Committee Meeting. At that time I was president. The meeting lasted from 9am to 4pm. I then had to leave to see to my mother. After I left the meeting the committee voted to annul the role of president of the FF. Why could they not have done that when I was in the room?
And after that, they got nasty. Yes, it still hurts.
99% of the members of the Folly Fellowship are lovely, kind, warm, interesting people. I had, and I hope I still have, many good friendships among them. I just know that if I attend another FF event I’ll run into one or two of the 1%. And I might hit them. And then where would we be?
Glad to hear Dewstow was so good.