More BIG THINGS! Plus Birds

WORLD DOMINATION!!!
I rather feel a subject like that merits more than one exclamation mark. Plus, it is pretty big in the scale of things.  Taking over a mere country - been done lots of times.  Taking over a whole continent - more impressive, yet still no cigar.  Taking over the whole planet - it's permanently at the top of my list of things to do.

Watch out for them Hamsterminators

     However, it's not quite as easy as you think.  For starters, there's only one of me - your average alien-spy-wearing-human-camouflage.  It's seven billion to one.  Yes, my interstellar invasion fleet is hurrying this way even as I type, but interstellar space being as big as it is, they won't be here for another century.  Maybe two, the pikers are being a bit laggardly of late.

Conrad, planning his busy social schedule.
Okay, okay, planning to take over the world.  The two are much the same.

     Then!  I have to try and manipulate human society behind the scenes to prevent you lot blowing up the planet and yourselves.  If you only destroyed the planet we'd still be able to enslave you; if you only destroyed yourselves we'd be able to plunder the planet's resources, unstoppably.  Trust Hom. Sap. to bite off more than they can chew in terms of nucle - in terms of foofoodilly warfare*.
     There is also the constant worry that you might get your collective asses to Mars, given long enough.  This means Hom. Sap. turning another planet into a despoiled wasteland and doubling your chances of surviving my tardy comrades in starships.  Okay, I know Mars is a wasteland anyway, but you lot would add baked beans tins and MacDonalds wrappers.
     Another worry is your spiralling development of computers in an almost asymptotic progression.  Eventually you're going to invent Skynet - then you'll be sorry!  So will I.  Billions of Terminators armed with nukes foofoodillies is a far harder prospect than a load of lazy meatbags who don't know one end of a phased plasma rifle in the forty-watt range.
     So.  You see that the life of an incipient world dictator is far from easy.  Oh the stress. Oh the worry.  Oh the <Mister Hand intervenes to prevent a whole screed of self-pitying scrivel pouring out>

Enough whimpering!  Let the motley begin!

How Absurd The Bird
Sheesh.  A cold, damp morning, the second day of being back at work for five whole days after a couple of short working weeks.  My return is not helped by the high-pitched twittering out there, squeaking, squawking, tweeting and trilling from the pre-dawn chorus - it's ages yet until the dawn.  What the heck do they have to be so amused about?

BLACKBIRD: Good MORNING!
THRUSH:  GOOD Morning!
BB:  Hooray, the old fat duffer is back!
T: Early today.
BB: Probably wet the bed.
T:  Oh, very witty.  Wait - what's he doing?
BB: Checking his watch.  Seeing if the bus is on time.
T: Ah, yes, humans**.  So restricted.  No wings and slaves to the clock.
BB: Yes - Fatty always walks around in a "days".
T: Oh, very good, very good***!
BB: And why is he bad at cooking with herbs?
T:  Gosh, I don't know.  Why so?
BB: Because he's bad at - wait for it - thyme-management!
T: Oh you are gifted.
STARLING: Egad, him again!  I looked in through the kitchen window and - what he was doing with those hands -

 - then the bus came.

Roncesvalles
For your information, this very small town or fair-sized village sits a few miles inside the Spanish border near the Pyrenees.  It is a notable stop for pilgrims en route to the shrine at Compostella, being the first town/village inside the Spanish border for the footsore.  It is also the site of a minor battle waged by the army of Wellington in their advance to the French border.
     Very obscure.
     SO WHY DID IT POP UP IN MY HEAD!?^

Roncesvalles.
Why, I ask, why?

My Literature
Specifically "27".  I was wondering about submitting this to the Gollancz open season.
     Now, I have a hard copy of the MSS in a box file that falls on my head every time I open a cupboard, the swinish thing.

The box file.
Well, it feels like this when it impacts your head

     "I wonder where that volume of Spinoza is, I'll just look - OW!" - Or
     "I really need that crushed silk chemise for work today where is - OW!" - Or
     "Where's that Sidi Rezegh boardgame hiding, I need to - OW!"
     Okay, bear that in mind.
     When I tried to open Chapter 3 of "27", Disaster!  It would not open!  Oops.  Each chapter is 10,000 words long.  Dog Buns!  Would I have to retype it from memory?
     Because the hard copy in the hard-edged box file has vanished.  Nowhere to be seen.
     Ah, but!  Clever old Conrad managed to recover the file <imagine Conrad dancing - no, actually please don't>  I am relieved because otherwise I'd have to be shifting this little lot to access boxes of shizzle.

* For this to make sense you need to read yesterday's blog.
** If they only knew ...
*** Do you get the feeling that Thrush is a bit of a bottom-licker?
^ Rhetorical question.  Please don't try and think it through.