enfieldspares
Well-Known Member
Did many SD members know that David Lammy's late father was a taxidermist? And that, as his son has said, his father lost his work and employment owing to "animal rights issues" affecting the taxidermy profession. So he may be a friend in any forthcoming battle over trophy imports.
www.theguardian.com
Sometimes it pays to read the "Guardian Weekley" while sitting on the Eurostar to Paris as I did yesterday.
My father was a taxidermist, not a run-of-the-mill profession for a West Indian immigrant. Having given up on becoming a vet, he settled for working with dead animals rather than live ones. Dad was a true craftsman, an artist. I remember watching his hands bring this menagerie to life, and his broad, bright-white-toothed smile when customers walked out wearing satisfied expressions. But as the 80s loomed, the recession meant there was less money in those customers' pockets. With a new agenda of animal rights, wildlife protection and licensing and export controls, Dad struggled to make a living. He started drinking heavily. As his business lost its way, so did he.
These from elsewhere:
My dad was a taxidermist. He had a factory and it was a wonderful place to roam as a child, with the smell of chemicals and these huge animals that he was building.
He was young and cocky as he boarded an old Dakota DC-3 warplane from his natove Guyana to Trinidad, before empbarking on a six week voyage aboatd the SS Luciana steamship to Genoa. From there he made a winding journey across Europe to Southampton. He was able to immigrate to the UK thanks to an Assisted Passage Scheme which allowed him to become a taxidermist.
David Lammy
David Lammy: Tottenham past and present – a memoir
'As I passed the charred remains of two police cars and a bus, the scale of the damage became clear – the devastation surpassed anything I had seen in Tottenham as a kid…'
Sometimes it pays to read the "Guardian Weekley" while sitting on the Eurostar to Paris as I did yesterday.
My father was a taxidermist, not a run-of-the-mill profession for a West Indian immigrant. Having given up on becoming a vet, he settled for working with dead animals rather than live ones. Dad was a true craftsman, an artist. I remember watching his hands bring this menagerie to life, and his broad, bright-white-toothed smile when customers walked out wearing satisfied expressions. But as the 80s loomed, the recession meant there was less money in those customers' pockets. With a new agenda of animal rights, wildlife protection and licensing and export controls, Dad struggled to make a living. He started drinking heavily. As his business lost its way, so did he.
These from elsewhere:
My dad was a taxidermist. He had a factory and it was a wonderful place to roam as a child, with the smell of chemicals and these huge animals that he was building.
He was young and cocky as he boarded an old Dakota DC-3 warplane from his natove Guyana to Trinidad, before empbarking on a six week voyage aboatd the SS Luciana steamship to Genoa. From there he made a winding journey across Europe to Southampton. He was able to immigrate to the UK thanks to an Assisted Passage Scheme which allowed him to become a taxidermist.
David Lammy
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