Quantum Physics And Holes

No, Not Black Holes
Just holes.  We'll get onto holes presently, in the meantime Conrad would like to address you about quantum physics.

 - and weasels.  Don't forget the weasels

     Don't look so alarmed!  Conrad can parrot the phrase and sound convincing, but really he is convinced that Quantum Physics is actually a branch of magic, and if you think otherwise then explain it to me.  And while you're about it, that cat of Schroedinger, who is lucky the ASPCA aren't onto him.  I am aware of that famous quote of Arthur C. Clarke's - something about being Cornish and pasties, wasn't it?  Or I may have confused that with Brian Aldiss.  Definitely not with J. G. Ballard as he was a long-faced grumpy old bugger.

Here he is,  pretending to smile.

     "Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic," that's how it goes.  Maybe so, maybe so, Mister Clarke, yet QM remains mind-bogglingly difficult to grasp.  As my old pal Niels Bohr used to say, "If it doesn't shock you then you don't understand it."
Having hammered that concept of intellectual difficulty into the floorboards, let us move on.
     Holes.  

Art!  No!  Wrong in the right way.

More specifically, The Great Hole Of Royton, that sink-hole which opened up last Wednesday and with which I have been regaling you.  On the approach to the completely blocked road there are three sets of signs, all with big bold lettering announcing:

ROAD AHEAD CLOSED ACCESS ONLY

     
     This concept has to be repeated three times because it is fantastically difficult for the human mind to grasp, or at least so I believe from taking Edna Wunderhund for a walk to see this monster. Art?

The beast up close

     Whilst walking down and back there was a constant parade of cars driving up to this barrier, which blocks the whole road, turning round and driving back uphill.  "ROAD CLOSED" - told you it was an ill-defined subject wildly open to interpretation.
     What does not fill your humble scribe with confidence for catching a First Bus to work on Monday is what I witnessed earlier this afternoon from my pose on the settee.  This gives a grandstand view of the road and traffic upon it, and I was surprised to see a 409 bus travel downhill.
     "They surely can't have repaired the road already?" I mused, and indeed the evidence above shows not.
     Minutes later the very same 409 came reversing back uphill, with an extremely sheepish looking driver at the wheel.  I suppose, being First Bus, they just expected him to acquire knowledge of this road closure and route amendment by a process of mental osmosis.
     There you have it.  Quantum Physics and "ROAD CLOSED" - concepts amazingly difficult for the human mind to grasp.

Albert Einstein, where are you when we need you?

And Now For Food
You could call this "sohtab", for it is the opposite of "bathos", which is going from the sublime to the ridiculous.  Or you could slap Conrad around the chops for being too clever by far*.
     Here we have a bundle of buns, to coin a phrase.  A Bounty of Buns.  A Bunty?  Art?

For the breadhead

     I admit I only got them because they were going cheap, and now we have the problem of getting through 18 of these little rascals before they go either stale or mouldy.  I've had two already and am preparing for ham rolls, cheese rolls, jam rolls, marmalade yoghurt and brown sugar rolls.   But not sausage rolls.  That would be silly**. 
     Then there's this:

Mysterious, eh?

     Dom found this in the kitchen at work and brought it over to see if Phong knew what it was.
     "Looks Vietnamese," she advised.  Your humble scribe, who has the befitting sin of the cat - nosiness, curiosity or inquisitiveness depending on your viewpoint - butted in and looked at the packet.  "Trung Nguyen" is definitely Vietnamese, I confirmed.
     There was a whole pack of these in the kitchen, left by someone who didn't like.  Conrad presumes they bought these whilst on holiday in Vietnam, discovered that they were milk powder, coffee and sugar combined and got rid of.
     Here is where your humble scribe scored big in terms of brownie points with Wonder Wifey.  Art?

     A pair of lemon tarts, going for 27p instead of £1.97.  This appealed both to Wonder Wifey's thrift gland and tastebuds.

Finally -
The weasel.  Conrad has been fighting a lonely one-man campaign for you to see the weasel as it really is, our ferocious friend, a diminutive dancing demon-dentalled death-dealer that ensure we are not over-run by vermin.
  Rabid weasel, do you have any comments?

"Yes - RRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

*  And yet still baffled by Quantum Physics
** Because they won't fit.