From The Depths -

Again, Conrad Trying Not To Be Clever
It happens, occasionally.  If - and I know that I'm going to commit the crime of being Interlectshul anyway - if I was trying to be clever, I'd have "De Profundis" as the title, as this means "From the depths" in Latin.  Which might beg the question amongst readers, most of whom are not fluent in Latin, about who this character Dee is, and is he in a punk band*?

Nothing to do with the Intro, I just want this to come up on Facebook when  I post

     If you're still with me, in which case your mind must have it's ice-chains on, then I shall explain further.  Half-awake this morning, the phrase "Duns Scotus" popped into Conrad's mind.  What?  Who?  Where?  Why?
     I can answer the last first: I have absolutely no idea.  It came from the depths, your honour, is my only defence.

ART!  You're breaching our "No Politics" and "No Current Affairs" guidelines!
Also, you mis-spelt it.

     He was a "Who" not a "What".  Also known as John Duns, he was Scottish - "Scotus" being Latin for "Scottish" - who lived between 1266 and 1308.  The Middle Ages, I hasten to assure you, not the twenty-four hour clock periods.  He was one of the most important and influential figures in Medieval philosophy and religious study.

John.  Not sure if that's a hat or his hair.

     Now, Conrad must have known about him already or that name wouldn't simply have floated to the scummy surface of his mind.  Or would it?  Only you can decide!

"Silent Night Or Not So Silent Night"
Thus reads the bus poster advertising Smirnoff.  I have two points to make here.
     1)  I think your Cyrillic-to-English transliteration is askew here.  Rather than end in 
"-off", it should end in "-ov".

 - although we will make an exception here

     2)  It had better be a silent night, matey.  Conrad is of an age where he needs all the beauty sleep he can get.  If you make loud sound, you get put underground.  Just so we're clear.  Like that midnight they keep going on about.


"Black Knights" By Oliver Poole
These knights are the opposite of silent.  This is the story of a British journalist who was embedded into an American unit during the invasion of Iraq.  He fondly imagined he'd be safely sequestered in the rear, able to get information readily from the headquarters units he'd be bunking down next to, maybe having to put up with only two hot meals a day and a hot shower only in morning and evening.
     Wrong!  Oliver got assigned, by mistake, to a front-line armoured battalion and at the half-way point has already seen more combat than he ever wanted to.
     He must have survived to write the book, though.  As ever, I'll let you know.

          Sorry but Conrad the grammar Nazi insists that we have two photos so the plural works.

Conrad: A Man Of His Word
I believe I declared at the weekend that I was going to have my tin of "Mixed Grill" upon a Giant Crumpet, which would serve as a plate, and I was going to scoff the lot.

Impedimenta included to give a sense of scale

     As predicted, the "Mixed Grill" turned out to be mostly baked beans, with a sauce that was mostly sugar, together with a Sad Sausage and a couple of pieces of Mysterious Meat, and Petite Potato Pieces.
     I still ate the lot.  Followed by date-expired hummus only 11 days past it's best.
     Food safety!  The challenge of our times!

Conrad As Human-Shaped Cushion
I felt truly honoured tonight:  Edna the Wunderhund will of course pay attention to your gifted author when he has food.  Examine the evidence here:

Conrad clad in awesome socks.  Plus dog.

     No food in sight.  This picture was taken by Wonder Wifey, who is normally Edna's Human Shaped Cushion Of Choice.  Ha!  <snaps fingers, hurts tendon, cries>

I Say ...
Further evidence that the world is not only stranger than you imagine, it is stranger than you can possibly imagine.  Behold that wretched rag The Metro and it's wrap-around:

I still have to pinch myself

     Someone made a television series of one of PKD's award-winning novels.  And it's really really good.  Hang on, let me pinch myself - OW! - yes I'm awake.     
Okay.  Doctor Who has come back.  Not only has it come back, it is a massive international barnstorming** success. With bells on.
     Okay.  Someone made a film of a Thomas Pynchon novel.  Those are nine words I never imagined I'd ever read, let alone write.

Look!  Look!  Her legs make a "V"***

     Okay, Reality, is there any chance that one of Conrad's favourite science-fiction novels might see the light of day?  Please?  Pretty please? Pretty please with acesulfame and fructose on top?

An image I remember from seeing at age 9

     Given that I only have, at most, 50 more years on this mortal coil, could you kindly hurry up, Reality?



* Like The Skreeming Voles?
** Not entirely sure what "barnstorming" is, but it sounds cool enough.
*** Pynchon in-joke.