Wet Wet Wet

What's That Soughing I Can Hear?
This week, for the first time, I came across the noun "Sough".  Normally, when I've come across this word previously, it refers (poetically, you wouldn't use it in everyday conversation unless you were a fearful poseur) to the sound made by the wind.  'Slameti', if you happen to be Lithuanian.  If you Google "sough" the definition about wind in the branches comes up first.
     This noun instead referred to an underground tunnel, dug to drain water out of a coal mine.  If Art will put his dish of coal down -

Magpie Mine Sough

     This photo inaccurately describes it as being a tunnel with a river running out of it.  No.  It's a sough, designed and intended to have water coming out of it.  By draining the water, the water table above would decrease, meaning that deeper mining could take place.  The photo above is actually of a lead mine sough, though the principle applies to any mine.
     The coal mine that I went off at a tangent from was a most unusual one: the Navigable Levels in Worsley.  The levels stretched for 46 miles, and were dubbed "navigable" because they were accessed via canal.  They had several stratified levels, where boats would travel down an inclined plane on a wagon, between locks.  Art?

Thus

     The advantage of using canal narrowboats was the tonnage they could carry, and the ease of transport, since hauling coal via wagon and horses over debatable roads was a lot slower and less efficient.  
     So, damp and claustrophobic working conditions, eh?  Ah, the best bit is yet to come, because the narrowboats weren't horsedrawn, thanks to space considerations.  No, they were foot-propelled thus.  Art?

Sic

     Damp, claustrophobic and hard work, too: lying on your back with the roof about a foot above your face, pushing along with your feet. O for the good old days, eh?
     The Navigable Levels fed into the Bridgewater Canal, which in turn ran into Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell.*  Art?

Taken on one of the 7 sunny days that year

     Proof that the world is a very small place, your humble scribe worked at this location a very long time ago, as part of the Greater Manchester Archaeological Unit.  Earlier that year, in the summer, a few of the hotter and more daring (or more stupid) male members of the unit cooled off by swimming in the canal.  They were later rather ill.
     There you go, three iterations dealing with water.  Wet, wet and more wet.
     What's that?  You were expecting a long article about - a band?  You expect me to believe that there's a band with a name that mirrors that of today's blog?  Utter nonsense!  I don't believe any such band exists, and even if they did it would only be a complete coincidence.
     Okay, time to send the motley across a bed of red hot coals balancing a bucket of petrol on their head!**

Pussy Galore
I recently went banging on about a dog in a manger, and why for purely selfish reasons he might want to stay in the hay.
     There is a feline equivalent, and in The Mansion this consists of Jenny emerging from cover (she has a cat igloo), arriving on the table and then to gradually slink closer and closer to whatever your humble scribe is eating for breakfast.
     Then, after she does not get any of my breakfast, she unerringly identifies what I am currently reading and then sits on it.  Art?

Unerring precision

     And she will not move, either.  Convinced that the greatest gift she can give you is herself, she sits there smugly purring.  So your humble scribe has to get up and move instead.  That soughing noise is my sighing.
     One cannot help but think her final triumphant thought as Conrad exits the kitchen is "Ha!  So long, puny human!"

29th July 2014
I shall post a link to my blog of that date, for 3 reasons.  
     1)  I'm lazy
     2)  It might boost my traffic figures
     3)  The post is actually relevant.  

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/art-craft-and-science.html

     The relevance comes because I was reading Alexander Clifford's "Three Against Rommel" at the time, and came across mention of the herb "Silphium".  Well, I've just come across it again as I re-read the book.  The blog post above tells you all you need to know, and I also found out a little extra.  Art?

Silphium, stylised

     Apparently units of the Italian army (Regio Esercito) who fought in North Africa were permitted to display the above symbol, since silphium was so strongly associated with the region.
     BOOJUM! - educating you one fact at a time.
     I also note that the blog was not as popular then as it is now, since that day's traffic amounted to only 15 persons.  So - if I were being really lazy or unscrupulous I'd just copy out the old herby article, because who's now present who remembers reading an item from 4 years ago?
     There you go:  Conrad; has a bit of a conscience.***


*  Oh, alright - Manchester.  There.  Happy now?
**  It's really water, but don't tell the motley that.
***  Don't push it.  Take notice of the part that mentions "a bit"