That above is Verdana, which is similar yet dissimilar enough to bring about another of those "Conrad is ANGRY" rants. And that Dog Buns extra line break won't go away!
Hang on, let's see if this works -
Nope, I thought if I logged out and back in we might get a more up-to-date iteration but we came straight back here with no log-in requirements.
O well. As you may have guessed, we are still poking around in the steaming entrails of the Seventeenth Century. Art?
 |
| A musketeer |
This is a matchlock musketeer, about to fire. He has loaded his weapon with gunpowder retained in those dangly wooden bottles, each of which contains enough to fire one musketball, and that accoutrement barely visible beneath his crotch is a powder flask, which contains more powder.
Gunpowder is dangerous stuff. Which is why it has so many uses on the battlefield. Quite besides having lots of it in close proximity to burning fuses and other people letting off their muskets, it can be set off by static electricity. Plus there will have been soldiers stupid enough to light a pipe whilst standing around with a loaded musket*. Conrad had never thought of "What happens if your bandoleer catches fire?" or "How big a bang would a powder flask make if it exploded", for which lack of imagination I heartily apologise. Art?
Wonder no longer, gentle reader. The priming flask becomes a rocket, scorching the hapless arquebusier as it blasts away on it's retaining string, which also prevents it from flying harmlessly off (unless there's a powder wagon nearby). As the top tends to fly off they don't generally explode, which is small comfort as you gently smoulder.
Even more serious is an accident with your powder flask, which might contain a couple of pounds of powder, not the couple of ounces in a priming flask. Art?
Back in the day an explosion this big would kill you, if not outright then from the inevitable infections you suffered thanks to having first-degree burns and gaping holes blown in you.
If you wish to know, I found these on the website of one Barry Siler, herein the link:
http://www.syler.com/
It's not clear if Bazza is still active, as the update years are long gone. If not, that would be a shame, as it's a nice resource with a very long and detailed look at siege warfare in the Early Modern world.
Motley! We're going to play Flaming Darts again, and this time you get to carry a barrel. No, I'm not saying what's inside it.
| A clue |
To coin a phrase. You might remember this memorable quote from "The Matrix", which was a referral to the fact that everything was actually an electronic simulation of the real thing, and that there really wasn't a spoon: it was simply a set of electronic details.
 |
| Lecture over |
There is also another reference here, to that excellent low-budget werewolf film "Dog Soldiers". One of them, the very Welsh soldier, is nicknamed "Spoon". So, when he gets eaten by the werewolves - ooops, there is no Spoon.
Which is only a lead up to what I really wanted to say. Art?
Behold our cutlery drawer at work! All the decent metal cutlery has been binned and replaced by this disposable wooden kit. Note an absence of big sharp knives <sad face> and DECENT SPOONS THAT HOLD A MEANINGFUL AMOUNT. I have resorted to bringing in my own Big Sharp Knife and large metal spoon.
I know I got a long time to get here. Sorry.
O Marketa!
Back to our favourite Angry Young Woman who hails from Bohemia! Yes yes yes, there's probably lots of angry young females from Bohemia, we're focussing on this one. What do you have for us, today, Marketa?
"Hezoucky": use it to say something is beautiful.
Welllllll what can we say to that? <Quite a lot as usual though none of it makes sense as usual! - the horrid truth courtesy Mister Hand>
Art!
| Bohemia |
"That there Bohemia, you know, the one with all the woods and fields, that's really Hezoucky!"
Well yes, if you don't mind mountains.
What's that, Art? Mara Corday is so very Hezoucky? O go on then -
| She is pretty rowwwwrrr**. |
I can't help but feel that we've gotten away from the point. Beautiful things! We need to show beautiful things!
 |
| Ah, the sexy beast ... |
An Apology
I beg your pardon! Yesteryon I described "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" as being Number 13 on "Rolling Stone"'s list of the Top 50 yaddah yaddah, when it was really Number 12. I do apologise and at least you now know that Conrad acknowledges his mistakes. Let me get that full stop in there before Mister Hand comes and interferes again.
The Epitome Of Absurd
My morning stroll to the bus stop, and the wait until a bus arrives (which, with First Bus, one ought never to take for granted), allows Your Humble Scribe at least ten minutes of pondering time, which is what you ought to worry about.
"Step Into My Parlour, Said The Spider To The Fly" is what went through my fervid mind.
Who wrote this drivel! <pause whilst Conrad Googles> Aha! One Mary Howitt, in 1829. Art!
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| Don't look so innocent, madam |
Secondly, neither spiders nor flies have any intellect. They think two thoughts: EAT or REPRODUCE, and that's it. As if they could muster a command of the English language!
Thirdly, spiders are not known for being at all coy in their eating habits POUNCE ATTACK DRAIN OF ALL BODILY FLUIDS is what amounts to tender foreplay for them
And because Conrad is, by his own confession, a massive coward when it comes to spiders, you're not getting a picture of one.
Of course, I could be overthinking this ...
Finally -
I am finishing off this blog at work in the office, gazing out over the rooftops of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell (it's been dry this August), and it really doesn't look any different from usual, since we cannot see the streets from this angle. Musingly, I ponder that if the Zombie apocalypse were to arrive, we'd never know until we descended to street level and were promptly eaten; the monitors are playing an endless loop of how Facilities are dealing with Covid-19 and how we should co-operate.
WE NEED A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE ALERT SYSTEM!
Of course, I could be overthinking this ...
* I don't know how, but their surviving descendants can all be seen walking around in densely-packed mobs absent facemasks.
** Art - an hideous Neanderthal troglodyte. With good taste.
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