About That Boat Race -

You Ought To Know What I'm Talking About
It's been on the news of late; the Cambridge/Oxford University Boat Race, which takes place on the River Thames.  It's hard to get more British than that, unless you watch it whilst drinking tea and eating scones with jam and cream.  Having some frightful ordnance from the Second Unpleasantness intrude on this cosy domestic scene is very unwelcome, so I am glad to see the race will take place unembarrassed by unexploded shells*. 
     Conrad is not entirely sure about this photograph - 

Hmmmm.  Not good practice

     - as the police officer in question appears to be holding an unexploded shell, probably an anti-aircraft round, and unless he's been told that it's inert, this is quite a hazardous thing to do.  Degraded explosive fillings over time, you see, break down into wildly sensitive explosive by-products.  Coughing loudly might be enough to set them off - so Conrad does not wish to see any of you repeating this.
     Having done our bit for public safety, Conrad would like to point out that the Boat Race will pass Chiswick Eyot near to the Finish line; Chiswick Eyot being one of those tidal islands around the UK that I've been going on about of late.  Because the race is run at high tide the entire island is submerged.  I think Art can be prodded into providing proof.  Art?

The boats and the Eyot

     Note those spectators on the Eyot.  Either they crossed the Thames by boat themselves, or they went across at low tide and now have to wait for the tide to go out again.
     There you go: Explosive Ordnance Disposal, geography and How To Be Extremely British in one compact article.

Sunday Brekker
If you are not familiar with English idiom, "Brekker" or "Brekkie" is a diminutive for "Breakfast".  Here we have Conrad's morning scoff, bathed in sunlight.

     The porridge, of course - of course! - is made with milk and SALT.  SALT.  NOT SUGAR!  NEVER SUGAR!  Nor honey or syrup or blueberries or pineapple.  Porridge is a savoury dish and my parents, Scottish to their core, would have buried me alive in the back garden if I'd ever been Sassenach to put <hack spit> sugar in my porridge.
     And yes, that is black tea without sugar or milk, just the way it's intended to be drunk.
     The pills?  A story for another day ...

More Doggerel Slander
Except I don't think you can slander the dead, can you?  Anyway, let us proceed with today's clerihew, what you might call clerihewing, which brings to mind an anecdote about an axe - a story for another day.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens

Didn't like lemons.

He did not write about them, much.

Instead he invented "Starsky and Hutch"

Samuel Langhorne Clemens

     You can't get much more American than that, can you?  Well -

Mark Twain

Was very sane.

He was such a sensible man

That he is still revered in Japan.

Mark Twain

     I shall leave it to the South Canadians amongst you to puzzle that one out, although I confess the bit about S & H is an outright lie.  Next!

More Of Greek Agricultural Vandalism
If you have been reading the blog of late - only this way will your descendants avoid being sent to the organ vats or the plutonium mines - then you will recall Victor Davis Hanson's seminal work on war and agriculture in Classical Greece.  He posits that it is far, far harder to effectively devastate crops and trees than comes across in contemporary literature, and proves this to amusing effect.
     Being a working farmer as well as an author, VDH told an amusing anecdote about chopping down a modestly-sized orange tree.

An orange tree.  Possibly .liked by Samuel Langhorne Clemens

     VDH went at it with an axe; after having to sharpen the blade three times and having to reseat the head on the handle, it took him an hour to chop down the tree.

A Massey Ferguson 165, 60 horsepower tractor

     Then came the difficult part - pulling up the stump.  He attempted this with a tractor - for over half an hour, before giving up and getting a second tractor - 

Ford 4000, 55 horsepower tractor

     - and then giving up.  He then flooded the field, waited six days and was then barely able to haul the stump up.  So the equivalent of 105 horses failed to do the job, which finally entailed a delay of six days and flooding, which again goes to prove that destroying trees in classical times was a lot easier to say than do, especially if your enemy is hovering just off-stage, waiting for the chance to turn you into a pincushion.





*  Please note the lack of any tasteless puns here.