Bigos, By Gosh!

For Those Who Are Not Polish - 
 - nor Czech, as the two are apparently far more mutually intelligible than, say, Russian or Bulgarian in terms of Slavic languages, "Bigos" is the Polish name for a casserole dish known here in The Land of the Godless Traitors Perfidious Albion as "Hunter's Stew".  Art, lead with something appropriately Polish.

Hmmmmm okay then.  I can vouch for "Tyskie"

     I copied down an authentic-looking recipe which calls for sauerkraut and cabbage and kielbasa (smoked sausage), and pork shoulder, some of which were in stock in The Mansion, some of which I purchased tonight on the weekly shop - 
     Here an aside.  Conrad, for the first time in over a month, purchased a copy of the MEN whilst out, hoping that it had returned to normal.  I couldn't flick through the pages thanks to wearing my disposable gloves, so what did I see upon returning home? 

      Hooray!  I am so happy I might just do all the word puzzles present.  Yes, even the <shudders> Quick Crossword.

     Back to our regular nonsense.
     Your Modest Artisan also wanted some recommendations about what kind of herbs and spices get used in Polish cuisine, so I Messaged Konrad on Facebook.

K himself, in a rather fuzzy Facebook post

     He's Polish, you see, as I've already explained - do keep up! - and because he is unfailingly polite and well-mannered, Conrad could expect a reply.  "Parsley and dill," he informed me, " - and lots of garlic."  And for Bigos you need bay leaves <ticks box> and allspice <ticks box AND PUNCHES AIR TRIUMPHANTLY>.  So we shall see what comes about this weekend.  K. has asked for a photo if and when I conquer this culinary challenge.
     Lets finish this Intro with a photograph of Bigos someone else has prepared.  Art?

Probably more suited to winter weather, really.

     I will have to call it "Bigos" if and when it gets made.  There is little call or opportunity for hunting here in This Sceptred Isle, because Supermarkets*.
     Motley!  Get in here, take your shoes and socks off and get into that giant colander filled with sauerkraut, it needs the water pressing out.

More Of The English Civil Unpleasantness
And Conrad's meddling with it.  I judge that this is a safe enough topic, though it concerns politics and religion, as we got it out of our system a good 350 years ago.  Other, less civilised nations, have had their Civil Wars a lot more recently, and Your Humble Scribe has noticed an inverse correlation to the ghastliness of the internal conflict and the closer it is to the present day.
     Anyway, here is the battlefield for the next engagement.  Art?

     I may have been a little ambitious here.  To explain: the Royalists have fled the field of battle at Lower Spleine and are now mounting a rearguard action behind the River Pileorick.  As you can see, there are only two bridges where an attacker can cross, which will bottleneck the Essex army, as it has to form the highly vulnerable March Column formation to cross bridges.  There is a gap between the Upper Deenam Hills and the river's source, but it's narrow, meaning only a limited force can get through it, and it's covered by artillery and cavalry.  Or the Oxford army could outflank the Royalists completely, then come back eastwards between the Upper and Lower Deenam Hills** - which would take a long time.
     However!

The humble hovels of Byall

     Take note: the Royalist baggage train needs to be evacuated from Byall before the Parliamentarian army can fall upon it and loot it, thus bringing to light certain "Saucie Lettres of a moste Amorous Naturre" written from one Charles I to -
     But we do not need to go into that!
     The scenario is a bit of a leap of faith, as I've no idea if carrying out such an evacuation is viable, so the proof is very definitely in the Andrut.

Polish pudding.

       Quick, Vulnavia!  I hear the sound of approaching thunder, and since the skies are clear it can only mean one thing - encroaching steam locomotives bent on breaking into the blog^!  Send out the Chain Trenchers -

"My!" Said Siggy, "That's Quite A Biggy"
I'm glad I typed that one up last night, I'd have quite forgotten it by this morning, and at present Your Humble Scribe is dashing around before starting work at 08:00, as I fell asleep again after the alarm went off <rueful face>.
     Anyway, were I to say "Syria" and "conflict", you wouldn't immediately think of Operation EXPORTER (they always write these Operation names in capitals, don't ask me why), would you?       We shall very probably get back to that, it has legs, as I like to gloast.     Jumping wildly around, like that flea on a griddle from yesteryon, let us now look at the Free French who fought alongside Perfidious Albion in North Africa during the Second Unpleasantness.  I have to put 'alongside', since if the words 'with' or even <gasps!> 'for', the French consul in Manchester would not only protest, they'd send an irate individual to The Mansion.

Kepis and a Chatterault - you can't get more French than that

     One particular variety of weapon that the FF were short of was armoured vehicles, since the Godless Traitors British tended to be somewhat short of same, thanks to the immensely long journey from This Sceptred Isle that supply convoys had to take, thus being unable to issue scads of tanks.  So, the FF improvised.  Art?

Hence the Sigmund Freud attribution

     This is the humble Bren Carrier equipped with a French 25 mm 1" anti-tank gun.  The weapon was essentially obsolete by 1941, because it couldn't deal with the larger Teuton and Italian tanks unless at point-blank range.  Anything else that it encountered, however, would get an extremely unpleasant surprise.  Art?

"Let's not credit Perfidious Albion with anything.  Tee hee!"

     Of course nothing in real life carries any cachet until it's been modelled in 1/72 scale, or is added to a wargame scenario -

Chenillette, you have arrived!

Finally -
We have been instructed by management to take at least 30% of our remaining leave by September, and there have been phone calls and e-mails to that effect.
     "O Goody!" chortled Conrad.  "Which regimental museum shall I visit first - York or Chester?" as I've looked up train timetables and locations and vicinity to the station before.
     Then, of course, cold harsh reality came down like a banhammer <simultaneously sand and angry face>.
     Sigh.

Life After People, anyone?

*  Good thing, too.  The prospect of Conrad toting around a high-powered rifle is not one that reassures.
**  Known to locals as "The Brace of" or "The Duo" Deenam Hills.***
***  Ouch.  Sorry.
^  Ah, remember when it was only KILLER EELS!  The good old days.