Here We Are Again

I Am Back!
After a sojourn abroad.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that folks kept reading this scrivel, even when there was no new content. I managed to keep track via my Hideous Devil Box and it's inbuilt technology; not only that, I also managed to post guff on Facebook with photographs attached, for the first time absent laptop.  Not more than about a dozen pictures, however, when I've taken over 120.
     Don't fret, you will get to see lots of 'em.
     However, because we here at BOOJUM! are perverse and whimsical, I first had to know why the P38 Lightning has such a strange design.  Art?

The twin-boom Boom-Boom

     Well, it appears this was because this was a convenient way to get a fighter with two engines, and hence - you're probably way ahead of me here - twice the power of a fighter with but a single engine.  Logical enough.  My next question was, what is all that exposed stuff atop each boom?  Art?

It looks like the top of an art-deco cooker hob

     These gizmos were the exhausts for the super-turbochargers, which sound impressive, and probably made it whizz like stink through the skies.
     Okay, I think I've explicated enough P38 for an Intro.  Time to chase the motley through a succession of privet hedges! - oh - what's that, motley?  Ah, I see - gorse hedges.  An altogether thornier problem, indeed.
       

How To Dress A Block Of Quarried Stone -

No, only kidding.  My trip to Barcelona - will that do instead?

We Arrive
"We" being Darling Daughter and I.  Conrad had offered to pay for Quiet Tom, too, but there was no tempting the lad.  Fortunate, really, since he was able to do all the house-moving admin whilst Sal gallivanted.
     First hurdle was to get from the airport to Barcelona city centre, achieved via train, and then a descent into the literal underworld beneath Barna Sants Station in order to get the Metro to Place De Catalunya.  Art?

Thus

     Then we walked the whole length of Rambla De Catalunya, and halfway back before finding our Aspasios (or "Apartment" if you like) because the identifying notice was about the size of a large business card.  Very discreet.  Can't say these Barcelonans are overly exubertanly outgoing.
     Anyway, allow me to pose the view from our balcony the next morning.  Art?

Imagine honking and beeping

     The first problem was my pens - changes in pressure thanks to a flight above 20,000 feet caused three of them to leak, so <sobs quietly> they got binned.  This was to come bite me on the nethers later on.
     First order of business was for Sal to locate a "Mercat", which is nothing to do with insurance; rather, it is a species of Spanish supermarket.  Art?

Pretty obviously not a Mercat

     I just liked the look of this random building en route.  Given it's size and the basketball hoops in a yard, we suspect it was a school.
     One thing about the Mercat, and indeed many of the Barca shops, is that they have a very narrow frontage, but extend back waaaaaay further into the building.  Architecture  courtesy of T.A.R.D.I.S. technicians, one feels.
     Art, the haul!

     The bottles of lager only came to E1.90, so it would have been rude not to buy them.  Also, notice the green tomato, at upper centre, which Darling Daughter loved, loved, loved.  Also, it took two of us three days to finish all those strawberries <drifts off for a moment in drooling haze>.
     Fortunately I still had a good 7 pens left at this point, as I am sure you were worrying about this matter.

Homage To Catalonia
No!  Not the memoir by George Orwell - though we may come back to that - but a nod to the persistent presence of a certain political symbol -

Not a yellow cravat

     The Catalans, you see, cherish their cultural difference from the rest of Spain.  All communications are in Spanish and Catalan, which is subtly different from the mother tongue.  You still see this symbol painted on roads, up at balconies and backed up by posters; independence may not be a current issue, yet one feels it has not gone away, and it will emerge again.
     Interesting times!

What On Earth?
Because Your Humble Scribe has sharp eyes and is inquisitive/curious/justplainnosy (delete where applicable), he caught sight of a rather bizarre-looking aircraft on the far side of Manchester airport before we caught our outbound flight.  Art?

Is your curiosity piqued?

     Googling on my Hideous Devil Box didn't reveal anything relevant, so I suspected I'd need to wait until back in the Allotment of Eden and a more fully-functional laptop-driven search, which is exactly what has happened.  
     The picture above doesn't really show how odd this aircraft looked, since it seems to lack a tailfin, and the wings look too short.
     There is an explanation.  Art?

For training firefighters

     Hence the lack of various bits and pieces, for a simulator need not have every equipage of an actual aircraft.  Suffice it to say that, after the dreadful 1985 aircraft fire, Manchester Airport Fire Service takes it's training very seriously.

     I say, that was a bit grim, wasn't it?  Bring on some dancing horses and a weasel band playing Brahms on jugs!*

Hmmm.  Edna is now giving me the evil eye.  She has only just gotten round to forgiving me for daring to be out of the country instead of in the country, either allowing her to sleep on the Human-Shaped Cushion or taking her for walks.  I think a hasty bite of lunch is called for, after which we may take a consitutional stroll in the chilly March sunshine.

Finally -
I am perusing Netflix once more, this time "Ghost In The Shell", the live-action version.  We are only 10 minutes in, and it seems to follow the original fairly faithfully, yet with a bit more exposition.  This is a good thing, as it took Conrad at least 3 viewings before he could make out: 1) what it was about and 2) what had happened.  Oh - all you slavering perverts hoping to see Scarlett Johansen naked? - shame on you!

From the neck up ONLY.
(Wash out your dirty minds!)

*  I nicked this from Philip K. Dick.