Back To Work

Sigh
The great thing about being off on leave for the past week is being able to ignore the alarm clock, listening to the "Clack" it makes as the hour is struck, but you don't have to get up.  Being on leave.
     The somewhat less great thing has been acting as Edna's sole parent and companion, meaning staying in at all times, except when unavoidable.  And feeling obligated to walk her at least twice a day, three times if the weather's okay, although the feeling of holding the moral high ground and earning brownie points does balance this out.

What I look like when holding the moral high ground

     So, your humble scribe wonders what will transpire at the Dark Tower tomorrow.  Of late the phone lines have been insanely busy, for far longer than anticipated, and the transition to a new database has been fraught with unexpected problems.  Given that, in a few weeks, our colleagues across the country will be accessing and using this database does give cause for concern.  Well, it would do if I weren't finishing in December, so I really don't care.
     Bring on the challenges, I say!

You Already Know My Answer
Conrad, as is apparent from photographic evidence, is ever one for wielding a pen, scribbling and making words dance across the page.  Well, "stagger", perhaps, given his singular scrawl.  Art?  Example, please.

     So, what did I espy on the BBC website?
     No!  Not an article about how cuddly sharks are - though a man can dream, can't he? - but rather one about whether children ought to be taught handwriting.
     YES!
     In fact, YES!
   Art?

     Just as you are never properly dressed without a pen, preferably ten at least, so you cannot count yourself as truly civilised unless you can exhibit penmanship.  God help the human race if that wretched text-speak becomes prevalent.

An Exciting Frisson To The Morning
Conrad sat in the car, adorned with dog, dog-nest, bag full of lunch and bag full of books (also pens - never properly equipped without pens to the number twenty or so), and attempted to start the engine.
     No go.  Engine co-operating.  Conrad resorted to swearing.  Engine not impressed.  Threatening it with the Elder Gods similarly unsuccessful.
     Conrad not happy.

What I look like when unhappy

     An hour and a half later, after a call to the recovery people, the mobile mechanic showed up and wisely nodded.
     "Flat battery."    
     Indeed!  If Conrad had been allowed his way, a sledgehammer applied to the battery would most CERTAINLY rendered it flat.
     We shall see if the wretched machine starts in the car park tonight.  If not, expect a very late blog post with a lot of Frothing Nitric Ire present.     

What I look like when Frothing with Nitric Ire

The 6th MG
Ah yes, if you've dodged the bullet when it comes to Operation Sealion or Operation Overlord, then you've stepped squarely into the beaten zone of the Official War Diary of the 6th Canadian Infantry Brigade Machine Gun Company ( you can see why I abbreviate it).
       I did notice that there are two entries for the month of March 1918, because I am a pedantic hair-splitter, although there is an explanation for this.  Namely, that the 6th Brigade's individual MG company became subsumed into a single larger unit, the 2nd Machine Gun Battalion.  Briefly put, the four individual MG companies of the 2nd Canadian Division were lumped together into one large unit, which the DMGC (chief high muck-a-muck of machine guns in the division) could split up and allocate out as desired.  I suspect the reason for two March entries is that two different officers had been allocated the duty of writing up war diary notes.
     Anyway - there are several abbreviations or acronyms used that would be obscure to a modern audience - like you.  Fortunately you have CONRAD! (exclamation mark optional) to explain.  Let us begin:
"Liquid Fire":  the Teuton Flammenwerfer, or flamethrower to you or I.

Hunnish frightfulness

"TM":  Trench Mortar.  An abbreviation applied to the Teuton "Minenwerfer" or "Mine thrower", basically a small artillery piece rather than a true mortar.
"SBR":  Small Box Respirator.  The British model gas-mask, which, it has to be said, was rather more efficient than the Teuton version.

Stylish yet roomy, and impeccably tailored

"SOS lines":  At a pre-arranged signal, usually a coloured rocket flare, the Canadians would lay down suppressive gunfire on previously-calculated range and elevation bearings.  These might well be indicated with posts and tapes, so that a barrage could be laid on even at night.
"EA":  Enemy Aircraft.  These would stooge over British lines, whereupon the Canadians would promptly fire hundreds of rounds at them, since they had several Vickers guns set up in an anti-aircraft role.

Finally -
Say hello to the Nurse Shark.  Hello Nurse*!  These finny rascals are one of the more laissez-faire brands of shark out there.  They cruise the reefs and shoals, looking for a mobile fish dinner, and as a human you'd have to work hard to annoy them.  Annoying a Nurse Shark takes a lot of doing.

But it can be done

     However!  If you manage to provoke one, beware, because it will seize you in a vice-like grip that pretty much defines vice-like grips.  One Darwin Award winner, a small child not adequately supervised or lacking most of a brain, grabbed hold of a small Nurse Shark's tail.
     The shark promptly bit him.  It bit him and did not let go.  It did not let go, in fact, until both had been transported to a hospital and the shark had been cut in two.  No news on the small idiot, but with behaviour like this I don't expect his journey into adulthood to be long or sustained.

What I look like when rooting for the shark

* There's a joke in here somewhere.