Going Potty

Or, Smashing!
Not in a good way, either.  During the events of yesterday, which resulted in the temperature within The Mansion falling to that of a clinical research laboratory's super deep-freeze locker, a crash was heard from the kitchen.  My favourite large (favourite because large) teapot lay in shards on the ground, with the funereal shroud of a soggy cosy <sad face>.  I was too distraught to take a picture, so maybe there's one in the archives.  Art?

A moment's silence, please

     We strongly suspect that the cat is responsible for this wanton act of mindless destruction, having been up to no good on the worktop - probably having a nosey at the drip tray under the Foreman grill - and having pushed the pot to it's doom.
     I realise I'm making a lot of this incident, which is because I get through a whole lot of tea, brewed via a teapot.*
     Having literally dusted off my second-favourite teapot, and having brewed a pot of tea with it, we once again heard the sound of breaking glass.**  Yes, the second pot had perished.  This time it's swan dive had been accompanied by a large hardback cooking book that had been propped up behind the pot.  I suspect this had slid out of place, hitting the pot and propelling it to a brittle death.
     Sorry, no pictures of that dead teapot, either. 

Have a picture of Comet Kohoutek instead

     After returning to work, I explained my tale of woe to Ania, our might team leader, who by coincidence had a friend with two surplus teapots that would have otherwise gone to a charity shop.
      Splendid!  Serendipity!  She showed me a picture of both teapots and I chose the larger of the two, before texting her friend.
     Conrad was sitting picturing his brand new pot brewing up a pint of Lady Grey tea, none of that milk and sugar nonsense here, when Ania came back.  Her friend had replied to the original text.
     "She was packing it away," explained Ania, " - when she accidentally broke it ..."
     AAAAGH!***
    
The Sheer Pulse-Pounding Excitement Of Simply Getting To Work
This is no mean feat considering we are talking about First Bus, quite apart from the weather.  Luckily your humble scribe, being an alien from an ice-world, already has veins filled with liquid nitrogen and Freon, so the icy conditions feel quite homely.  That wind is still rather excessive, though.

Home!

     Which is not what I wanted to talk about.  Instead, let us focus on LITHIUM-WAFER BATTERY DESI - hmmm, perhaps not.  Sounds dull.  Instead let us focus on BUS WAIT RATE! which is a whole lot more interesting.
     'Bus Wait Rate' is an utterly objective phenomenon and not the fevered imagining of my tortuous mind (which is in fact what you're reading now).  It refers to the unarguable fact that, as you wait on one side of the road for your bus, many more will pass on the opposite side.  This morning the ratio was 4:1.

First Bus spokesdemon says:  "And?"

     If only there was a method to make money from this!


Back To Banging On
 - about the 3.7" anti-aircraft gun.  Shelford and Bidwell mention the reasons for not using this weapon in a ground role against tanks, which you are about to learn.
     For a start, they argue that you would need two regiments of guns, at least 48 of them, and the crews would need extensive re-training - shooting a tank not the same as potting aircraft.  This means a significant weakening of anti-aircraft defences behind the lines, meaning a diversion of RAF resources to compensate. 

 - like moustache wax

     Then, too, the guns were designed with lots of complicated electrical and electronic gear, which would have to be removed, and anti-tank sights installed.  The 3.7" was also a big beast, weighing in at ten tons, so you needed an equally beefy tractor to pull it.

Avenge our moustache waxes!

  And, because it hadn't been designed to be fired horizontally, the recoil mechanism would fail with monotonous regularity.  Only to be expected; after all, you wouldn't go racing in a farm tractor, would you?  Same principle.

Er - then again -

Conrad Is Unsure
The crossword clue was "A race between two poles and a tank (7)", which I think comes out as "SARACEN".  The two poles are the South and North poles respectively, abbreviated to S and N.  Then you have "A RACE".
     However!  The Alvis Saracen is most emphatically not a tank.  NOT.  NOT!  Art?

Alvis Saracen

     Do you see any tracks there?  A big gun in a turret capable of accommodating the commander, gunner and loader?  Inches-thick armour?  The Saracen is an armoured personnel carrier, not a tank.
     Of course, if the answer turns out not to be "SARACEN" then I shall look foolish.
     But I thought I ought to make the point.^






*  And loose-leaf tea, of course.  None of that bagged nonsense here.
**  David Bowie reference there.
***  Coincidence Hydra moment.
^  Pedantic, cold-blooded and alien.  My best features.