Yes indeed, pilgrims, which means probably around 3,000 hits since the blog went live just over a year ago. I know, I know, it should be higher, but it did take a few months for Conrad to realise he needed to promote* on Facebook and then Twitter. Doubtless, given the passing of the 5.000 hits mark, this impressive total will be overtaken during the night when Conrad is off-line and plugged into the mains to recharge.
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| Breakfast for Conrad: 240 volts of flavour |
As regular readers are surely aware of by now, Conrad is a fearful fat cowardy-custard. In fact more of a cowardy-trifle - custard, sponge and jelly all in one convenient package. Thus, it is faintly peculiar that he does not run in terror - shrieking inchoate terror at that - from the spiders that dangle from the Upstairs Lair's windows. He would post a photo of them but the eight-legged rascals have gone into hiding.
I and the spiders have come to an accomodation; they will stay out of sight, and Conrad will not splat them to a smear with a rolled up copy of The Metro**.
| Just call it "Mobile multi-limb anti-fly artefact" and you'll feel much better. |
"Three Against Rommel"
One of Conrad's particular obsessions is the Desert War of 1940 - 1942, of which he has many, many books. The above title is one he was aware of for ages but never bought until last week, a tome by Alexander Carrington, a journalist. From reading it, Mister Carrington never felt that romantic attachment, which some people did, for the desert, and he describes a days-long boring, battering journey from Alexandria out to the Egyptian-Libyan border that de-glamourises many another description.
The Hurriglad
One of his mentions is of a Gladiator aircraft, state of the art in 1930. re-fitted with a
Hurricane engine. as of 1940. Quite why this was done is open to speculation ("RAF
Fitter First Class V.v. Frankenstein?") and the end result was an airframe with an engine
so powerful in relation that it could only fly for fifteen minutes - or, allegedly, the
aircraft would vibrate itself apart.
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| A Hurri-bad. Close enough. |
The Sunderland
No! Not the city - this was the Short Sunderland, a flying-boat that was actually a
plane, and it was bloody huge, not short at all - Short Brothers were the manufacturers
- and Mr Clifford blagged his way onto one for a patrol over the central
Mediterranean. He may have regretted this, as it was attacked by Italian fighters and
himself and the pilot seemed to be the only crew not dead or injured.
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| Not very short and bristling with guns |
Mr Clifford also writes of the Italian navy, which avoided battle with the Royal Navy
at all costs, much to the jeers of the Allies (and probably quite a few of the Axis, too).
As he coldly calculates, it wasn't the job of the Regio Navale to indulge in battle with
the Royal Navy, but to remain as a fleet-in-being and thus remain a threat, rather than
a lot of expensive ships rusting at the bottom of the ocean.
Edna
No BOOJUM! would be complete without exploiting small animals to boost blog traffic. Anyway, here is the Watcher At The Wall, our very own Edna Wunderhund:
Fancy Meeting You Here!
Conrad refers, of course, to "Against The Day", that massive novel by Thomas Pynchon that he's still reading, although (strum the drums, hosannah the banners) he is now over half-way through at Page 527 -
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| No! I did not Photoshop it! |
Then, rather more eerily, Conrad comes across a quote from students at Cambridge describing themselves as "sisters of High Albedo".
What is he listening to at that very moment? Why the Vangelis album "Albedo 0.39"
I dunno. Philip K. Dick would have an explanation for it.
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| "You're living in The Matrix, Conrad. It's the only explanation that makes sense." |
* Also known as "pimp"
** Surely the best use ever of this tergiversation of tabloid tat
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