Helsinki Helps

Suomi!
Which is Finnish for "Finland".  Helsinki being the capital thereof.  You see?  I didn't just pull the name of a Scandinavian nation out of thin air.

Helsinki in 1920.
(Why then?  Why not!)

     Okay, no doubt you are aware, even if only in the dimmest sense of awareness, that there was a volcanic explosion off the coast of Sumatra and Java pre-Christmas.  This created an instant tsunami which killed 400 people, mostly because there was absolutely no warning of the event.
     In the aftermath of Anak Krakatau's explosion, obtaining information about what had occurred was pretty difficult, not to mention risky.  Any approach from the sea was liable to suffer very badly indeed if the volcano exploded again, so that was out.

Before

     "Wow, those Finns must have good eyesight, being on the other side of the world and all," I hear you witter.  "Or was it -"
     PATIENCE!  I'm coming to that.  Air reconnaissance was thwarted due to low cloud and bad weather, and again, the risk of a volcanic explosion, though less dangerous than at sea level, was still there.
     Enter satellite photography using radar, which can peer through cloud cover as if it weren't there, and can do it as easily at night as in daytime. Art?

Before and after

     Note that credit "JAXA"; that's the Japanese space agency.  Here's where the Finns come in.  They plan to launch a network of dozens of small radar-equipped satellites which can surveil the planet's surface repeatedly over the space of a single day.  They got pictures of Anak's current development from one of their deployed ICEYES vehicles.  Art?

Anak

     It's not that clear from the previous photographs, but the crater was previously open to the sea.  Here you can see that's no longer the case; Anak's continuing activity is beginning to rebuild the volcanic island.  After being over 300 yards in height, and then reduced to just over 100, it'll take a while to get back to previous.
     If that name sounds familiar, it's because "Anak Krakatau" means "Child of Krakatoa", and we know how that ended.
     Okay, motley, time for you to do the Parachute Regiment's Assault Course - after imbibing a quart of brandy!



Speaking Of Finns -
Conrad doubts you will have heard of the Utin Jaakari Rykmentti, which is Finnish for "Utti Jaeger Regiment", the Special Forces wing of the Finnish Army.  These bad boys, in time of war, would go sneaking around far behind enemy* lines, doing various nasty and malicious things.  They have an emblem and flag.  Art?

A Gryphon and Hakaristi

     This brings us back to today's earlier post and mention of the swastika as a symbol.  After the Second Unpleasantness the swastika, it is fair to say, was rather looked down upon as a national symbol and pretty much went out of business in that line.  This was a bit of a problem for the Finns, given that their national symbol, the Hakaristi, is a kind of reversed swastika.

Thus

     You don't see it on their aircraft any longer, and that one in the Jaeger emblem is stylised to the point of abstraction.  I'd imagine the Finns are rather cross at having to give up their national emblem because of Herr Schickelgruber, but there it is.

Herr Schickelgruber.
(This is satire, folks)

I Was Joking
I was, really, it's just that, frequently, it's impossible to tell if I am or not.  I cherish the tale told by Paul, Southron interloper at the Careers Office I worked at once upon a time.  Apparently I stated to Paul "I'm going to come over there and punch you in the face," which to me was hilarious.  To Paul, not so much - he couldn't tell if I were joking or not.
  <sighs> Do you see?  Do you see what having a face not made for smiling entails?

Suitable for a grimace, or sneer, but never, ever a smile

     Okay, I refer to my extremely brief post earlier today about what I did yesterday afternoon, to wit: "Attended an organ recital".  I think the body of the post was shorter than the title.
     You didn't think I'd stop there, did you?  Foolish humans!
     The event was held at Rochdale Town Hall, which is a substantial piece of wonderful Victorian Gothic architecture in it's own right.  The entry hall (it's probably called a "Vestibule" or whatnot) is pretty striking.  Art?

Looking towards the stairs

Looking back at the entrance

     There are organised tours of the town hall, and your modest artisan may avail himself of these in the near future.
     Up the stairs and into the Great Hall, which is well named.  Art?

     Sorry for the blurriness, I think my hands were simply shaking with excitement.  Then, of course, there was the Binns organ itself, originally installed in 1936, and renovated and upgraded in 1979.  Art?  Less coal more goal!

Note the four manuals
(That's keyboards to you)

     The organist in question, Anthony Hunt, blandly informed us the audience that he'd last played here in 2010 and it had been raining then, too (cue wry laughter).
     I won't list the whole programme, as there were 10 pieces in a variety of tropes and styles, but for me the standout piece was "Fugue Alla Gigue" by Johan Sebastian Bach.  Afterwards Mr. Hunt said he was glad that went well, as it was a tricky piece.  You wouldn't know it from his performance: it was also a lovely, lyrical, vibrant performance that betters anything you can find on Youtube.  I know, I went and played several versions.

The Gothic pile itself

     £6 very well spent.  The council might not be entirely happy with Mister Hunt, as on a couple of occasions he hit the organ pedals, which are the things that generate those tremendous bass notes - and all the windows rattled.  Do that too often and I suspect a considerable glazing bill results ...

Time, methinks, to tie up these loose ends and go wash dishes in the kitchen.  And - how about a cake?


*  Don't mention the Ruffians!