The Mouse Tower

Thank You, Brewers
A title I picked at random from one of the 1,523 pages of this dictionary.
     No!  It is nothing to do with PCs or control interfaces.  Allow me to wake up our idiot sloven Art <kicks him violently> earn your pay!

The Tower of Mouse
(nothing to do with Disney)

     Apparently an evil archbishop cornered the trade in grains and enriched himself by speculating in the market, rather than allowing poor people to buy it and eat it.  He stored the grain in the tower above, which might have led to problems with dampness and mould, except that the tower was invaded by an army of mice, which devoured first the grain and then the archbishop.
     There are other tales of murderously munching mayhem-making masses of mice in Medieval Germany; clearly this tale resonates deeply in the Tuetonic heart, which might give one paws* for thought.

"Inside Out" By Nick Mason
Putting in a concentrated burst of reading, I finished this today, an illuminating and amusing look at life in a band, recording, touring and performing.
     Since the band in question is Pink Floyd, it is interesting to see how they originated and grew; their psychedelic sound being at home in Sixties London but frequently not at all what provincial audiences wanted to hear; one gets the impression that the band were lucky to get away from some gigs still alive.

Early Pink Floyd, scaring people

     When you're as big a band as they are, the money side also has a bearing.  They invested with a plausible investment firm who were actually criminal embezzellers with accountancy qualifications.  The band between them lost a million pounds, which is an impressive amount to be able to lose.  Then there was "The Wall" tour, where keyboard player Rick Wright was only present as a salaried performer, as Roger Waters had kicked him out of the band.  Since the tour lost money hand-over-fist Rick was the only band member who made any money**.

Excuse me, it's gone very quiet and Edna's not here.  Give me a minute to go check out what she's doing ...

..... and she's just wandered back into the Upstair Lair.  Still sulking 'cos Dad isn't lying down yet ...

Meanwhile, Back In The Real World -

What's his beef*?
Is he a veggie?

Superheroes With Their Pants Down
Today, ladies and gentlemen, we focus our satirical eye*** upon that frenzied phenomenon, The Flash.  No sniggering at the back!  His name comes from a rather less worldly time.  The Flash, as I am fairly sure you know unless you've been trapped in an underground fallout bunker in the Urals since 1955, is "the fastest man alive".  I think this is a generic "man" meaning "human", as at that time the Comics Code wouldn't let you describe a woman as "fast".

Definition of a flash fire?

     Anyway, what must our hero avoid in his everyday life that you or I give little or no thought to?
1)  No competitive sports, ever.  Not only would Barry effortlessly win them all, he could collectively humiliate all Earth's athletes, leading to considerable psychotherapy bills.
2) Absent-mindedly tapping either fingers or feet.  You or I can tap our work desk idly without mishap; Mister Allen would instantly batter a hole in it.  Nor is that all: if his tapping hits the critical resonant frequency, he could shatter the desk apart.
3) Writing quickly.  Unless writing with a stylus on a sheet of deep-frozen ice, because otherwise the speed of that pen moving over the paper would set it on fire.  Even the stylus-and-ice option would create clouds of steam.
4) Run upstairs or (especially) downstairs.  This would result in the carpet igniting, the stairs splintering and once again if the resonant frequency is hit, could collapse the whole staircase.
5)  Bolt his food.  Not that his digestion couldn't handle it, but at speed his cutlery would at the very least chip his crockery, possibly shattering it, certainly striking sparks and hence threatening to burn down the kitchen.

"Ah - hun - I was stirring the pot and - you'll never guess what happened ..."

Shakeshaft
O how I do enjoy getting one over on the Brad of Avon!  What mockery can we get away with today?

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on"

     Excuse ME!  You might be hot stuff as a playwright, Bill, but you obviously know nothing about dreams.  Since they are a combination of symbolism, wish fulfillment and memory playback, they most certainly do not constitute a human being, and I object to being classified as a stage of REM neuro-activity.

Ingredients
The photographs I took were pretty useless for reference purposes, so I've resorted to writing down the list, viz:

I did fudge the figures to get 100%

     Now all I have to do is work out how to make it.  Simples!

Recapitulation
I like re-posting these entries from two years ago.  Firstly because I've completely forgotten about their contents, secondly because it pads out the blog with a minimum of effort, and three, you get to see stuff I'm pretty sure you missed first time round.

The brownies are baking, ready for Claire's last day with her team tomorrow.  Surprisingly, this is only the fourth or fifth time someone has specifically requested a cake from me, after 15 months of baking.  Perhaps I should draft a menu of cakes and ask for requests, the catch being that you pay 50p for me to make the cake of your choice.

Ahh!  Necking a cold tin of beer whilst enduring our disgustingly humid and overcast summer weather helps to handle the hardship.  This is in preparation for the pub quiz, except my prep should also include cruising tabloid tat websites to brush up on vapid celebs and their irksome activities.

<thinks>

Nah, not worth it.  Instead - I have to craft a rhyme for Claire's goodbye.  Okay muse, hit me with inspiration.  Right here.  Left temple.  Quick as possible.



Still waiting.



Yup, still waiting.



Meanwhile - James Gandolfini has died, coming rather as a shock.  This has brought "The Sopranos" back into discussion.  I watched the first season, then gave up.  Horrible nasty people doing horrible nasty things to other horrible nasty people - rather like a James Elroy novel.


Whoops, got to go see those brownies.  Come on, muse!

Well, the weather certainly has not improved since then.  Britian - looking forward to global warming.

* Sorry.
** Tee hee!
*** The other eye is ironic