Say Hello To Conrad. You Know - Me!

Have I Done A Descriptive Blog Yet?
I don't think so.  You, gentle reader, get a filtered version with allusions and self-referential mentions from one post to another, but I don't think I've actually explained with pictures about who we am.  Those who encounter Conrad in day-to-day life surely know more than they will ever be comfortable with, but there is an international audience who really and truly need to be brought up to speed.

Besides, it's an easy way to compose a long post with a lot of pictures that don't need tons of text!  Oh - was I thinking aloud?

That Gimlet Glare, That Greying Hair

What a spectacle!

     I like to call myself less than flattering names that include the word "grey".  Looking at the picture above, I realise that I ought to be flattered to only be called grey.  "White" is closer to the truth.  Less "Time's winged chariot" and more "Time's Hairdresser".

Say Hello To My Little Friend
If - but of course there's no "if" as you all read the blog every day on pain of death by laser cannon - if you were unaware before, Mister Hand is the humble scribe who punctures Conrad's pretentiousness, translates prolix into understandable language, and above all pokes him with a bamboo skewer when Conrad gets unsufferable.

NO kissing!

     Of course what complicates matters is that Mister Hand is Conrad's right hand, an intelligent and sentient entity in it's own right*, leading to the inevitable joke about the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing.  Except it's probably NSFW.

The "Conrad" In It's Natural Environment
Being old and English, naturally Conrad's second-favourite drink is tea.  His preferred tipple is loose-leaf Darjeeling, although for the past few months he's been making do with English Breakfast and Russian Caravan tea.
     No!  Not tea-bags - loose-leaf English Breakfast and Russian Caravan tea.

Conrad, tea, enormously thick book: business as usual

     Drunk without milk or sugar, this is tea the way it should be.  Also, drunk that way you don't get small dogs trying to nick it.

Besuited
It is passing rare for Conrad to wear a suit nowadays.  This is a good thing, since he has put on so much weight that only one in the wardrobe still fits him, and he is far too stingy and mean to go out and buy another one.  Here he tries to play the part of a film director, or a football manager, or a man stricken with dysentry:

  Not too sure about that hat, Conrad old feller.  You might be trying too hard for the youth vote .....

The Outdoorsman
This is cheating a little, since I venture across at least a mile every day to get to the office.

Edna apparent - midges rather less so

  Here we had taken Edna to Tandle Hill Park, the better for her to variously run and fun around with balls.  Whilst managing this we found that Conrad tastes delicious for midges, who dined upon my arm all unbeknownst to me, until the next day.

Outdoorsman Part Two
Cherish this photograph as evidence that the UK does have a summer!  It may be broken up across six weeks but it does exist.

Conrad.  Book.  Hat.  These are the world's constants

  The hat is not an affectation, because Conrad's locks are not what they were he needs a physical barrier to infra-red radiation.  Here he is reading a tome about safety measures on the railways**.

Too Inept To Decept
Once again, as regular readers already know, Conrad's technical skills are pretty much at absolute zero when it comes to managing today's modern technical FB - 

A camera so heavy it needs 3 hands to hold it 

As evidence, here is a less-than-flattering selfie which chows Conrad's true age (about 1400)

*See?  Do you see what I did there? The left and - O you did.
** Really interesting stuff.