Wonderfully, Woefully Wet

I Lied About The "Wonderful"
For fear of driving you away.  We have an unpleasant combination of wind, cold, wetness and a grim waterfall from the heavens here in the Pond Of Eden.  Elsewhere, it seems, young ladies can frolic in the ocean, if only because it's Tenerife <pines for a moment>.
     By the above you can judge that, yes, I've taken Edna for her second walk of the day.  Our options are a bit limited, since it's been raining since yesterday and anywhere not flagged or tarmacked is muddy.

One of the tracks in Tandle Hill Park

     Also, everybody else walks their dogs at the same time as we venture forth, regardless of what time it may be, the inconsiderate swines.
     Equally galling is Edna's insistence, once we return, that Conrad plays Chase with her, an activity she can easily keep up for 30 minutes.  She's currently sulking at my feet in her Despondent Dog Whose Humans Wickedly Neglect Her pose, again because lack of Chase.
     Okay, enough domestic wibble, let's engage first gear and begin moving and grooving*!
     No, motley, you can sit this one out also; you have minus sense of rhythm.

Quite possibly the motley dancing

Back To Kulcha
I'm being ironic there.  For yes, we are back at that list of the Beeb's 10 biggest doorstep novels that people avoid reading, because of pages.  We did 1 and 2 yesteryon, so it's time for 3 and 4.  More, if I feel like it.

3. Middlemarch by George Eliot (880 pages)

     This one sounds like chick-lit, and boring to boot.  All about class in a fictional English town, until the Martians invade the end, and the Beeb holds that it reads incredibly modern yadda yadda.  As you may have guessed, Conrad hasn't read it, and unless it includes a Martian invasion, Your Humble Scribe is never going to read it.  Art?

What a splendidly dull cover!
(and still no Martians)

4. Bleak House by Charles Dickens (928 pages)

     At this point you might expect some splenetic invective - you'd be wrong.  Conrad has read and enjoyed lots of Dickens, and I think I've read this one, too, but none of it sticks with me, except that the case of Jarndyce versus Jarndyce gets resolved just as all the money involved is exhausted.  They could have used "Martin Chuzzlewit" instead, as my paperback edition was about two and a half inches thick.  Art?

I dunno.  Looks pretty cosy to me.

     Then again, "Nicholas Nickleby" was also another weighty tome.  Why not mention these?  I notice that ""A Dance To The Music Of Time" wasn't included, either.  Why not?  Enquiring minds want to know**!

"Travelers"
Conrad is approaching the end of Season One of this now defunct show, and approves of what he's seen so far.  The idea of only being able to retro-temporally transfer a consciousness, rather than anything physical, is intriguing and also means no requirements for lots of futuristic props or settings.  Well - that is, up to a point.  Art?

The only shot I can find

     That tetrahedral device being air-lifted in is an x-ray laser, which, we are told, has been gradually assembled by teams of Travelers across the globe for a year.  We later see the deployment and usage of a "Stasis Field" that allows people to survive a terminally diving airliner, and a set of fluid-mimicking nanites used for surgery.
     So, the Travelers have the knowledge and skill sets to create futuristic technology, allowing some plot Macguffins to be used.  One wonders how they use primitive 21st century technology to manage this tautological feat ...
     Of course, I may be overthinking this -

Nanite goo

     
Conrad, The Horrible Person
I freely admit it.  Behind this bland human exterior is a cyborg interface with a fusion-powered pumping unit rather unpleasant interior, which positively and gleefully glories in "Schadenfreude".  This word is a case of the Teutons being unusually and atypically concise in their descriptions, as the equivalent in English is "Malicious enjoyment of other people's misery".
     I can tell what you're thinking: "The BBC website has had a long Comments thread on their pages about the ballfoot game," and you're absolutely right.

"Rejoice!  For it is my birthday!"

     There are 1,087 Comments on the thread before it was closed down, which comes to 109 pages, and they appear to be equally split between praise for Sheffield Steel Bladed (I think, I don't pay that much attention to the teams) and The Manchester United, in a drawn game.  O my the gloating and cackling and rubbing of hands at TMU only getting a draw!  The mockery of their manager! (who is Noregian.  Sorry, Norway).  The shaken heads of the TMU fans!  
     Conrad doesn't understand a word about any of the technical things they mention, it's just great fun wallowing in other people's venom-laden invective!

A football.  Just so we're clear

Giant Phallic Death-Machine Launch Platform Reprise
I did warn you it would come to this.  For yes, we are back on about the Ruffians and their ballistic missile submarines of the Borei class, which are armed with the indifferently-reliable Bulava missile.  Art?

The beast in question

     There are supposed to be 10 of these things in operation, but the dead-on-it's-feet Ruffian economy means that the last of these is going to be going into service 20 years after the first one, and they only have 4 in service right now.  Tsar Putin probably won't mind the population eating grass so he can afford them; the population might have other ideas ...
     One of the more interesting things about the Ruffian Navy is that it now has a motto, which would have been forbidden, banned, illegal, immoral, evil and any other negative connotation you can think of back in the days of the Sinisters: "God and Saint Andrew's flag are with us", Saint Andrew being their patron saint (!). 

This may lead to confusion -

     And we shall leave it there, as Edna is whimpering at my feet.  I suspect a Chase is in the offing.



*  A strictly metaphorical grooving: Conrad is not built for dancing.
**  Okay, okay, it's just me, then.