Don't Worry, This Is Nothing To Do With Contemporary Politics
It has, in fact, to do with geese. Not 'Gray Goose', because that's vodka and very expensive vodka, although Conrad - who has had about 1% of the normal human being's sense of smell for 30 years - cannot tell the difference between stuff that costs £120 per bottle or the distilled potato-peelings that cost £12 per bottle.
For the record, Conrad does not enjoy the flavour of most spirits, which seem to be composed of equal parts Industrial Cleaning Fluid and Petrol.
A flock of geese
ANYWAY back to the Capitolline Hill, which was a hill in ancient Rome, upon which stood the Capitol, which is positively Greek in it's pure logic. It stood in the middle of the city, so if anyone was in the process of storming it, then things had come to a pretty parlous state.
"Did anyone say 'parlous state'?" enquired the Gauls, who had invaded Italy in order to settle their hash with the Romans. They invested a lot of time and effort in this hash, seeing a chance to get both even and rich. Art!
The Gauls had marched across Italy, carefully warning all the cities and states they crossed that their intent was focussed solely upon Rome, and nobody would get hurt if they didn't act funny*. They hammered apart a frankly ill-led Roman army in front of the city and, failing to storm it, settled down to a siege. One must point out that this was 390 BC, lonnnnng before Rome had acquired martial ability and reputation.
French tourists misbehaving
Okay, siege and besiegers, temporary stalemate. The Capitolline Hill has such sheer sides that the Gauls ignored it as an entrepot into the Roman defences. However ... a messenger was sent from inside the city to an embryonic army outside the walls, passing on information and preparing for a relief attempt. The Gauls, who seem to have been pretty canny when it comes to reconnoitring and scouting, found the path that the messenger had taken and realised there was a way into the city that by-passed all the defences. Oooops.
Here enter the geese. You may not be aware, because you have never had a goose as a pet, but geese make excellent guards. They are extremely territorial and perceptive and will fly (do you see what I - O you do) into a mild rage if anyone or anything encroaches upon their patch.
What existed upon the Capitolline Hill? Why, none other but a whole batch of sacred geese, who detected the Gallic incursion and reacted with predictable rancour, honking and flapping with gusto. Possibly also with vim, yet definitely with gusto. Alerted, the Romans drove off the Gauls with heavy losses, then went on to beat their field army the following day.
There you go. Geese: loyal, defensive and delicious.
Increase the geese
Motley, I want to research that peculiar South Canadian phrase "Duck Duck Goose", so stand there whilst I prepare to lambast thee with a cricket bat.
Let Us Now Praise Famous Men
And, having praised them, let's praise them again. Sorry, I just always wanted to have that comeback when mentioning said book. We're back to "Le Mort D'Arthur" wherein there's quite a bit of praising when it comes to knights like Sir Lamorak or Sir Dinadan, who are subsequently quite famous, so the item title is kind of relevant**.
What I wanted to tackle here was Sir Thomas Malory's use of convention.
We've already gone into the details of 'two hours' and 'seven years' and what's this? Another convention: "Three miles English" as a measure of distance. Not to be taken literally, rather as an indication that there was a fair amount of land betwixt A and B. Then there is the use of the word "Shend" in the text; the very handy Glossary at the book's rear explains that this means "to put to shame or confusion."
"convention", Art! Small "c" <charges up Tazer>
Not if you were a John Peel fan back in the Eighties, matey. "The Shend" was a musician (bass player I think) from The Cravats, who also did acting as a side gig. Art! (O stop whimpering and run it under a cold tap).
I think that's enough medieval history for the moment.
As was
Bottom Five Tanks - Number Four
As selected by the Director of Bovington Tank Museum, Richard Smith. Richard is quite delightful as a presenter, so it's a wonder he's not been seen on screen before. Perhaps lockdown has forced him into the limelight? If so, that's a good thing. Not only is he enthusiastic and erudite, he comes at tanks with a perspective that differs markedly from the usual Gun-Armour-Speed analysts, and has more in common with Nick Moran (a.k.a. The Chieftain), whom has always rated other Interesting Facts as more relevant. Today's choice is - the Panther. Art!
 |
| Somewhere, wehraboos are weeping |
It remained a problem up until the late Forties, because the French took over a lot of war-surplus Panthers and ran them, finding that they were mechanically unreliable. The final drive constantly broke down. Not only that, a novice driver could destroy the gearbox by moving into second gear incorrectly. Richard points out that very, very few Teuton youths had any experience of driving a vehicle before serving in the Wehrmacht, since the Teuton car industry was miniscule. You plonk an 18-year old in the driving seat of a 45-ton monster and expect him to become adept in 12 hours? Yeah, good luck with that.
What Richard sportingly avoids mention of is that the Panther was a whacking great big tank, meaning it was harder to hide, easier to spot and easier to hit.
"Here we see a Panther with a towing yoke, ready to be pulled by four oxen."
Finally -
Your Humble Scribe has been moving books (MY BEAUTIFUL BOOKS!) around his Sektir Layr as the various bookcases also get moved. This might not sound like much - photos to follow - but believe me, if you have to unload a hundred large-format hardback books from a bookcase in order to be able to move it four feet northwards, then load all the books back in again -
It gives one a sense of achievement :)
* Fun Loving Criminals reference for you there.
** Also, because I say it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment