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Monday, 31 May 2021

The Burning Barn

 DON'T WORRY THE COWS ARE SAFE!

I thought I'd get that reassurance in first.  You know the British are a nation of animal-lovers, as am I - mutton, beef, pork - and we need to get off on the right foot.  Or hoof.

    ANYWAY Your Humble Scribe has, over the past few months, done a bit of etymological equivalency  (not a phrase you ever imagined seeing today) in finding the roots of various words that sound very similar.  And, thanks to those constant undercurrents in the septic swamp of my mind (diligently monitored by Steve; thanks, Steve), another pair of words popped up not thirty minutes ago.  Art!

AstronautS!  On the Moon!  WITH GUNS!!

     Sorry, that has nothing to do with anything else on here, it's a television show I'd not heard about before and am unlikely to see, given that it's on another streaming service and we subscribe to seventeen already.  Set in an alternate universe where the Sinisters got to the Moon first - 

     I put that up because a barn is a pretty dull subject.  Art?


"BYRE": Is what you see here, a glorified shed for cows.  Shed, cows; cows, shed.  Equally charmed.  From where does the word originate?  I thought you'd never ask.  The Old English "Bur", meaning 'cottage', actually.

"PYRE": As in "a funeral pyre", which is what Jim Morrison sang about.  Broadly, a stack of wood intended to be set alight, and more specifically a stack of wood atop of which was a dead person, waiting to be consumed by the flames.  One heck of a way to determine if they were joking or not.  Art!

Definitely going to be some smoke on the water here

     And from whence does this word come?  All the way back to the Greeks (of course, nine times out of ten it's the Greeks, when it's not them it's the Romans) and their word "Pur" meaning "Fire".  One wonders what they made of happy cats.


Martin Zero: Braving It So You Don't Have To

I've metioned Martin a couple of times already, him being a species of 'Urban explorer' or, as Conrad likes to style it, Industrial Archaeologist (sorry, more Greek).  He has nosied extensively into the recent past of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell, and posted videos of same on Youtube.  Earlier this year he ventured into strange foreign lands (Yorkshire) to explore the underground architecture of Sheffield, in search of what locals call "Megatron".

No, Art.  Just - no.

     A perfectly understandable reaction and one I shall not deem worthy of replying to with the electric pitch-fork.  For the following screen-shots please add in from your imagination the smell (which would be rank), the cold, the filth and the HORRIBLE CLAUSTROPHOBIA*.  Thank you.  Art!


     Their journey begins along the Porterbrook and whilst it's not raining now, it seems there has been precipitation recently, because this stream is pretty full.  Also fast, and slippery, and I bet it doesn't smell of lavender and roses.  Next!

NOPE

     That central channel is both deep and fast, sufficiently so to sweep a person off their feet, so our intrepid trio continue on the sides, and Martin is happy that he brought his stick.  Actually an extendable baton.  Art!

MORE NOPE

     Here you can see how constricted the Porterbrook gets.  Martin, OF COURSE, goes on about the ancient brickwork rather than how close he is to being both drowned and swept out to sea.  Art!
STILL MORE NOPE

     This is the confluence of the Porterbrook with the River Sheaf - from which the noble and mighty city of Sheffield gets it's name - and it looks especially dangerous with different currents at different angles.  All underground.  In the dark.  The cold, smelly, wet, dirty dark.  NOPE.  
Behole the Megatron!

     No, I don't know why they call it that.  Remember, this is Sheffield, where they ritually sacrifice the hundred cleverest people every year and have done for centuries may have their own reasons.  Art!
ART!
     Excuse me, I'll break out the electric pitchfork later.  Let's try again, shall we?

     This enormous arch was apparently built to allow trams to cross the river in safety, whilst still permitting the Sheaf to empty into the Don, which flows home to the sea.**
     All Conrad can say is very well done Martin, especially as he had to repeat the journey in reverse to get out of Sheffield's subterranean riverine systems.  Much, much rather you than I.

"D-Day Through German Eyes" By Jonathan Trigg

You should know Conrad by now, no sense of moderation or abstinence, so I am now half-way through this work, and it hasn't been the Wehraboo-fest that I originally feared, Max Hastings to the despite.  In fact Max probably sticks pins in a wax effigy of Jon, whilst channelling Goebbels.

     ANYWAY Jon actually underlines the criticisms of Nazi Germany to be found in works like James Holland's "Normandy '44" or "Monty's Men" by Professor John Buckley.  Namely, that the Teutons were trying to fight steel with flesh, believing that political activism and bravery was easily able to shrug off a salvo of rockets from a Typhoon.   Hmmm no.


     The background on the Luftwaffe's woefully inadequate response on and after 06/06/1944 is also illuminating, showing that the Teutons had totally and completely misunderstood how modern war was waged; by utilising industrial capacity and rational planning, rather than wonky racist ideology.

Finally -

Conrad is uncertain if there have been any polls that ask fervid female fans of sci-fi what colour of skin they find alluring in male alien humanoids.  The converse is not true; as mentioned a couple of times already, men love love love them some green-skinned alien exotic beauties.  We have seen this in pulp magazine covers from the Thirties onwards, and also in more recent televisual and cinematic entertainment.  Art!

From "Starry Trex"***

     And more recently -

Welllll helllllllo

     What is it about women (kind of) who are probably able to photosynthesize?



*  There was a bat for sure, and doubtless lots of spiders

**  Mikhail Sholokov reference for you there.

***  I could be wrong.  It's been a while.

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