Herbert Johnson supplied my Blackthorn at the tax payers’ expense in 1973. It was an essential accoutrement for even the most junior officer in 1 IG (1st Battalion, Irish Guards).
It is important to say “one”, even though there only is one battalion; the second battalion was disbanded after the Second World War but it shows you know your bearskin from your busby. Herbert Johnson is now a division of Swaine Adeney Brigg and, as far as I can see, no longer sells Blackthorns.
It should have lasted a lifetime but Bertie has sharp teeth so I treated myself to a new one from specialist stick supplier, Emily Hannah; one must take one’s pleasure where one can in these difficult times. Of course I couldn’t possibly use a Blackthorn in the purlieus of St James’s, too agricultural – luckily I have a silver topped ebony cane when I’m being Burlington Bertie.
The blackthorn (prunus spinosa) is more than a source of walking sticks. At this time of year it has clouds of creamy white flowers, then in the autumn purple fruit that tastes disgusting until it is mixed with gin and sugar and turns into sloe gin.
Talking of pleasures, Robert and I have accepted an invitation to a cocktail party this evening. Five of us will get together on Zoom and I expect there will be competitive canapé construction and agile cocktail shaker action. I have something else to look forward to: the dental surgery has rescheduled my 2nd April session with dentist and hygienist to 30th April. Doubtless that appointment will be postponed too. Meanwhile the weather across the south of England is sunny and crisp and the clocks spring forward tomorrow night.