As much as that word applies round here. To those of you who were worried, yes I have let the travelling Ukranian jazz band out of the airy Upper Dungeon, last year in fact, so no need to contact the International Criminal Court or Interpol.
Moving speedily along, allow me to gift you with an illustrative photograph. Art?
This is gluten-free Norwegian Pear Cake, made at the behest of our guest Jane, because she asked for it, and if you are a guest at The Mansion you get what you asked for. Unless you're a travelling Ukranian jazz band.
My point is - they were loud and uninvited, if you must know - my point is, that making this cake took quite a while, which is one reason there was only a variety of place-holder blog yesterday. Whereas today you get a lovingly-crafted work of wit.
Further of food:
 |
| Yeterday's lunch |
"DON'T DO IT ROB!*" exclaimed Tom, sincerely worried about my health.
"But - but - it looks okay," I stammered back, before sniffing it. "And it doesn't smell" (although see i) above).
Russ then sniffed it, gingerly, before making a face.
"It's off," he informed. "It smells of burnt matches. The sulphur, you see."
"DON'T DO IT ROB!!" exclaimed Tom, now with 2 exclamation marks.
"Killjoys," I muttered on my way to the bin.
"Saving your life," riposted Tom.
Finally of food:
 |
| Delish fish, not on dish |
Fished In
Do you see what - o you do.
One thing that Conrad - yes we're back to my alibi, do keep up - Does Not Like is being sucked into anything unawares. Your humble scribe needs to know exactly what he's getting into ahead of time, which is one of the reasons he doesn't gamble. That, and being a curmudgeon.
So he sat down to watch "Goliath" the other night and was struck by misapprehension at around the fifty minute mark.
"This is not the Biblical epic I anticipated," I expostulated <I do this a lot> "Nor is it about giant beetles. What is going on?"
It was the first episode of an 8 part series.
Dammit, now I'm invested!
Hermes' Revenge
Hermes, the Greek god of travel, not the parcel firm. I think the responsibility for this is mine, as I used to chide Hermy over my drive to work. Thus am I cast upon First Bus, who continue to provide their usual level of service, which is to say not very good.
With howling irony, so howling you could easily mistake it for a pack of wolves, I am sat <actually not now but this was true when writing in my notebook> on the 182 (because the 24 never turned up) looking at a poster entitled "Ride on time". I bet they paid someone thousands to come up with that. Art?
This poster advises "If you experience a bus leaving a stop early let us know" BUT this bold assertion rests on the assumption that the bus is physically present. I realise that, as a passenger, assuming the bus will run at all is a huge and dangerous presumption to make, since the process of getting a 12 ton vehicle from A to B is an hideously complex process that makes the Manned Mars Mission a cakewalk by comparison**.
Being Snark-y
Don't worry, it'll all make sense in a minute.
Okay, Lewis Carroll, or Charles Dodgson as he was more properly known***, wrote a long nonsense poem called "The Hunting Of The Snark", which featured a terrifying entity known as a "Boojum" - ah me all this self-referential stuff is fearfully clever, eh? The captain of the reprobate crew who set out to hunt down them Snarks provided a map for them, thus:
"He had bought a large map representing the sea
Without the least vestige of land,
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
A map they could all understand"
This concept came back to me after reading that First poster, and I would accordingly like to present to you the updated December 2016 Bus Timetable for the 24, 181 and 182:
* My alias amongst humans on a day-to-day basis
** This, let us be clear, is more wolvish irony.
*** See, pen-names again. Conrad keeping a great tradition alive
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