None Of These Things -

Does That Sound Inspirational Enough?
     Yes, yet again Conrad has sought inspiration by looking up a line at random in a book.  This book happens to be sat at my left elbow; in fact before Sunday it had resided at my left elbow for many months, buried under a pile of other books, notepaper, CD cases, business cards, kitchen roll and bookmarks.

The much, much tidier left elbow region.
Ironically the CD case was, in fact, Elbow.

     The book - you didn't ask but you're going to get told anyway, so you might as well sit still and pay attention - is "The Antipope" by Robert Rankin.  A fine bit of nonsense it is, too, concerning the arrival in Brentford of an evil supernatural tramp, five magic beans and the antiheroes John Omally and Jim Pooley.  Antiheroes for an antipope, you might say, as John and Jim are two idle, scrounging, workshy p1ssheads, who nonetheless have a certain shabby dignity and an essential goodness of the soul that enables them to get by.
     Oh, and the humourous interlude are occasionally punctuated by grim horror, so - no reading out as bedtime stories, especially as the Tut! factor is about 3 on a 10 scale.

Great fun.  No bull.  Well, yes, a red bull.  No, "a" red bull, not "Red Bull".  Oh go read it for yourselves!

"Battue"
     More of reading.  Conrad is, amongst other books, reading "An Infant In Arms", the autobiography of a young man called Graham Greenwell, an officer in the Ox and Bucks*, and one who thoroughly enjoyed his wartime experiences.

     As with other works of that era, some of the slang, idiom and phrases are completely alien to the modern reader, and - a particular bugbear** of Conrad's and something I am sure you will nod furiously in agreement with - they often take it as read that we, the audience, are fluent not only in French but also Latin, and Greek - in the original Greek text.  Not so!
     Anyway, Graham describes being shelled by the Germans, dodging his way to the safety of trenches amidst a "battue".
     Yes, what is a battue?  It's French, and means to beat the land and flora to cause birds to take flight - so you can shoot 'em and bag 'em and eat 'em, not because you hate birds a lot.
     (Apologies to Anna but hey! I'm only reading it, not writing it)

Glastonbury
     That self-same Anna*** posted a photograph of the stall she will be working at being set up yesterday at Glastonbury^.  Clear blue skies and sunshine!  Good for them, Conrad has had a word with the Weather Wizard about keeping it dry down there this year, and he promised, but his memory is terrible.
     Also on his way to work at The Electric Goldfish Bowl, what did Conrad espy?
     No!  Not land-mobile sharks threatening to eat people!
     No!  Not a set of Daleks doing disco dancing!
     Actually a horde of young people with bags and bedding and booze, all getting ready to catch coaches to that venue Glastonbury.

Ha!  The mad fools!

     Conrad himself has never felt the urge to go sit in a field for four days under an English sky, worrying about the toilets and what, exactly, was in those glasses that was being thrown around last night, and is this tent really fireproof?

There will now be a short pause as I go see if that Courgette and Lemon cake is cooking properly - at last view, the recipe's laughable "bake for 30 minutes, cover then bake for another 30 minutes" was shockingly inaccurate.

Conrad!  Oh Ye Of Little Faith!
     Rather than cake, Conrad is now eating humble pie.  The cake was done, the Cakey Tester proved that, and in just about the 60 minutes total baking recommended.

Courgette strands just visible

Fun With The Elements!
     I see someone at the BBC has stolen my idea, and today they are banging on about Vanadium, which Conrad is pretty sure he's already covered, but to check would take ages, so he'll just say Done! and move on -
     - oh, except he doesn't remember explaining why Vanadium is Vanadium and not neoscopodynium or Narfine - it is named after the Norse goddess of beauty, Vanadis, and the Beeb has a nice illustration:

Anna!  Look away!

     Conrad has to say that chariot looks very unstable, liable to topple at either end with no warning - and how does Vanadis indicate when she's going to turn?  In fact, does she have a licence for that thing at all?  Not to mention every other road user and pedestrian will be busy ringing the RSPCA about the freak in a nightgown whipping merry hell out of a pack of cats whilst riding a skateboard ...

Aha!  Another Analogy Of How Conrad's Mind Works
     One of these has got to be accurate, surely?
     Imagine your three-shelf kitchen cupboard.  You buy shredded suet, dried cranberries, bouillon, green glace cherries, pecan nuts, basil, chicken stock, marshmallows, raisins, yeast packets, yeast tins, paper butterflies and you cram it all in the cupboard.
     Then, next week, you buy mini-marshmallows, sultanas, beef stock, ready-rolled icing, walnuts, flaked almonds, cinnamon, garlic powder, milk cooking chocolate, dark cooking chocolate, cocoa powder, cinnamon sticks, cloves and mustard powder.
     Now, if you, like Conrad, cannot be bothered rooting everything already in the cupboard out to check on dates and best buy, then you simply use brute force to cram all the new additions onto the three shelves.
     Inevitably, something always pops out and off the shelves; Conrad, with his un-naturally fast alien reflexes, always catches it, but there is your analogy - a new fact arrives in the brain, an old one randomly flies out.

Everything listed above is in this cupboard
(Except the dark thoughts - they're in the fridge)

 The World Cup
     Conrad's sweepstake team, Nigeria, appear to have given Argentina a run for their money, the final score being  2 -3.  Well done Nigeria!  And commiserations to plucky Iran.  Somewhere, Omed Djalilli is weeping.
     In other news, the England team arrived home, and since this is the 100th anniversary of the First World War - see, this isn't really current affairs - one is minded of Wilfred Owen's poetry about the embarrassed return home from overseas of other English players. "Too few for drums and bells" indeed.