Curiosity Killed The Cat -

 - Satisfaction Brought It Back
Bad Curiosity!  Naughty Curiosity!  No biscuit for you!
     On the other hand, one has to be verrrry wary of Satisfaction, since it can apparently create zombies.  As further proof of this, look at the two responsible for that ancient hymn called "Satisfaction", Keith Jagger and Mick Richards, because they most definitely are dead men walking, see!

Richards on left, Jagger on right

     An appropriate Halloween image, don't you think?

Curiosity.  Obviously designed as a cat-eradicating machine.
Admit it:  how many cats have we seen on Mars?

"Valde Melancholia"
I am currently reading Diane Purkiss' brick of a book about the English Civil War.  Bless her, she does go to some lengths to illustrate how different folk were then, particularly in terms of religious intolerance and bigotry*, with an awful lot of background.  Today I reached page 75 and the "Bishop's War" against the Scots, which came about because of a revised prayer-book.  The war is a lot less interesting than it sounds.
     Anyway, I digress.  What I meant to mention is the phrase "Valde melancholia", used of Oliver Cromwell and his depression.  Pretty obviously - obviously! - "melancholia" translates from the Latin** as "depression", but what does "Valde" mean?
     "Great", would you believe it.  So Oliver suffered from the bite of the black dog, to coin a metaphor.

Valdoonican.  Close enough

Bumbac
No!  Nothing sordid or rude!  BOOJUM! is entirely Safe For Work, and also small children.  That is, you won't find swearing or nakedness; logic and common-sense are a bit more honoured in the breach.
     So.  Unless you are Romanian, you won't recognise the word.  It is Romanian for "Cotton", viz:

Bottom left.  ha!  Get it?  "Bottom" - O you do.

     So, if you were a Romanian with a small zipped bag seated to your rear, say below the kidney, you'd have a Bumbac Bum-Back  Bumbag.
     It's not too clear from the photo above, but the Finnish for "Cotton" is "Puuvilla", pronounced "Pooh Villa".  No!  No sewerage connection - Conrad refers to A.A.Milne and Pooh Bear.  You dirty-minded lot.

Luxembourg
What is the capital city of Luxembourg?
     Luxembourg!
     I know, I know, a bit of a trick question.  Why is this here?  Why, because Conrad was curious about the name.  Where does it come from and what does it mean?
     The name itself comes into existence with the creation of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg in 1839.  It's a compound derivative, and once again we come across that zombie language Latin, as "Lux" is Latin for "Light".  The "Bourg" is French (hooray!  Not Latin!) and means "Village".   So - "Village of light".
     Conrad is happy.  He'd already heard Paris described as the "City of Light", so if Luxembourg is only a village we're all okay.

Lux and Broad.  Close enough

Coincidence Comes Calling
Yes indeed.  Conrad is beginning to cast looks over his shoulder to see exactly who - or what - is messing about with causality.
     Here's a harmless example.  Recall just above how I describe reading Ms. Purkiss' work?  What do I come across on pp 62 but the following: " - the sound of breaking glass, so dear to the upper class".
     No, I'm not referring to either Nick Lowe or David Bowie here***!
     I refer to Hilaire Belloc and his book of cautionary rhymes for children, and the line:
     " Like many of the upper class,
     He loved the sound of breaking glass."
     - which has stuck with Conrad for these past 43 years.

     Then yesterday Conrad was examining the list of job titles available at the Long Chaundle site of my Yet-To-Be-Named-Employer.  Seconds after moving on, he took a call from - Long Chaundle.
     This is one of 3,500 sites across the country that could have called, and Conrad is one of 15 staff who might have taken the call.  Odds of 52,500 to 1.
     Not only that, today there was an intranet article on - Long Chaundle.

Long handle.  Close enough

     Then again, Conrad was dealing yesterday with a Case, involving an employee we shall simply call Euphronius Glandersnatch^.  Later that day he took a call from a manager, about an employee called - Euphronius Glandersnatch.
     There are 75,000 employees who might have been referred to, and again 15 staff taking calls, which works out at odds of well over a million to one that I would take that call.

     Phil?  Are you there?  

"Mr Dick is currently unavailable, having been dead for thirty years.  Mr Bowie will be glad to sing for you, however."

"Annabelle"
Seen in The Metro, and with supposedly sinister dark design about the advert, this - Conrad presumes - is an horror film, released especially at Halloween.

A doll with a bad paint job?

     Don't tell me, the doll is alive/possessed/haunted/less wooden than the actors?
     Here are Conrad's Rules For Dealing With Dolls Of Terror:
     1)  Take a hammer.  Bash doll to bits.
     2)  Put bits in bag.  Add large dash of lighter fluid/petrol/chlorine triflouride
     3)  Set bag alight.  Toast marshmallows.
     4) Put ash in grey bin.  Remember to put bin out on Thursday evening.
     Or, if you are the proud possessor of a wood-chipper:
     1)  Put doll in chipper.  Press "On" button.

A bell.  Easily confused and far more terrifying

Finally
Just to be a bit different, here's a dinosaur:

Elasmosaur.

     "Elasmosaur".  Not to be confused with:

Elmo saw us

* No so very different to today, hmm,?
** A dead language that's still alive, another zombie by definition.
*** Go Google for the connection, you idle popinjays.
^ Not his real name.

THE D RUGS DON'T WORK

It's True, Look At This -

Nope.  Doesn't do a thing for me

 - and this - 

Nah.  Not happening.

     Maybe an F RUG?

The Frug.  Close enough

"Bagatelle"
No!  Not the game thus:

Victorian Pinball machine?

     I refer to the word, used of an issue or item not deserving one's full attention, as in the classic phrase "a mere bagatelle".
     Where does it come from?  From Italian, around the sixteenth century, and the word "baga", meaning "baggage".  This then evolves into "bagatella" and via French to Bagatelle.  Quite why this equates to your carry-on luggage being easy to cope with is something of a mystery.  Perhaps because it's easy to lift up and move?

Er - quite.

"Penchant"
No!  Not a song, not even by The Skreeming Voles*, about writing songs.
     No, I mean the word pronounced "Ponshon", thank you very much, the one which means to have a particular bent or keenness for an activity.  What's that?  I am so not a poseur!  Lots of people say "penchant"!  Okay, some.
     Okay, it's only me.  Still, Conrad is curious** and it's his blog, so -
     Ah, thought so.  French, you see, seventeenth century, from the verb "Pencher", which means "To lean."

Were this a Gerry Anderson TV show, people would say:"She's not gonna make it!SHE'S NOT GONNA MAKE IT!"

Today We Said Goodbye
To Bella Mori, from the Resourcing Team, and Conrad was both quietly satisfied and also a bit rueful when she choked up and the tears began to seep.
     Given his penchant for doggerel rhyme, Bella had asked Conrad to whistle up a pome^, as she knew it would be a mere bagatelle for him.
     When I actually produced it she claimed to have been only joking.  Nevertheless it got read out by crikey yes indeed.  Too full of in-jokes, I'm not going to reproduce it here, lest it identify my Giant Nameless Undertaking, but you can have the opening and separate limerick:

There once was a lady called Bella, 

Who loved to sing acapella

But when she tried at Ringway

The pilots said "Go away!"

And threatened to propeller.

     I know it's not deathless poetry but it only took me the length of a shower to throw it together.

Ginger
No!  Not Biggles' faithful Yorkshire assistant - I mean the rhizome that is used in medicine and cooking.
     I mention this because last week Alison had a jar of Ginger Preserve given to her by the Taste Team to test, and as Conrad evinced a polite interest^^, she gave me some on an oatmeal cracker.  We both love ginger, and I just then realised how many different forms Conrad consumes it in.
     Ginger jam, that's one way.  The pickled ginger in sushi packs, which he slurps out of the packet, uncouth but - hey! - whose blog is it?  Then there's ginger as a powder, used in baking.  Stem ginger, used in making cakes and ice-cream.  Crystallised ginger, which comes in packets: Conrad got through a whole packet today.  I politely offered Anna a piece, which she politely took - at first thinking the packet held biscuits - and then remarked on how strong it was^^^.  Ginger root, used by the slice in recipes or grated in tea.  Ginger nuts - for our South Canadian friends, these are not nuts, but biscuits.  No, I don't know why they're called "nuts" nor do I know why a Bath Oliver is so-named.

I Googled "Ginger Hebblethwaite" and - well, this.
Sorry, Biggles!

"Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Fen"
By 1981 The Skreeming Voles had actually learnt to play their instruments, and even included the lead singer's father (Credited as "Dead Dad" on the album sleeve) playing the parish church organ on several tracks on their third album "Vole Au Vents"
   In a move that sparked accusations of "selling out", lead singer Pocksy Afflicted changed his stage name to Rocksy Inflected and learnt an A minor chord on guitar.  His English degree (long denied but BOOJUM! has seen the Edexcel records) stood him in good stead for the mellower and more reflective lyrics of this difficult transitional record.

Rabid as rats!  Rabid as rats!

We deprecate dogs

And we cavil at cats!

Rabid as rats!  Rabid as rats!

 - as this extract from "Under the Vole-canoe" surely proves.

The cover of The Skreeming Voles fourth album, a tribute to the German band <ahem> "Can"

Finally
Conrad yesterday explained that he likes the noble orang-utang above the other great apes, mostly because they remind him of Buster Keaton.  Utterly deadpan.

Buster Keaton, the great stone-face.  No, hang on -

* This punk band are threatening to take on a life of their own.  Back, Voles!
** In the sense of being inquisitive, not odd***.
*** Oh, alright, odd, too.
^ You can''t call these things "poems"
^^ That is, my eyes came out like organ stops and my tongue hung out like a lolling rug.
^^^ Sorry Anna!  And after the coffee, too ...