Metaphorically
I mean, it really wouldn't do to have a beast the size of a Roc pouncing on the enormous car park that is the M62 at rush hour, then flying off with a Volvo in one taloned claw and a Toyota in the other, would it? Think of what it would do to driver's insurance, to begin with. Those Highway Maintenance four-wheelers would need equipping with anti-aircraft missiles, too.
ANYWAY what I wanted to cast a jaundiced eye over was an aircraft, not a mythical avian from Middle Eastern legends: the Carvair. Art!
This is the scene I thought I'd gotten right when I was wittering on about the Armstrong-Whitworth Argosy. WRONG, CONRAD, WRONG! There you go, accountability, it's what you acquire when you reach 60 years of age. Let's have a whole-profile picture, Art.
Cars go in the front, up to five of them, and passengers go in the back. Don't ask me how the vehicles were secured, only that they must have had more than the handbrake on ('parking brake' for any confused South Canadians out there). I happened to come across a website that led with more details about the ATL Carvair, more than you might ever want to know. Let us have yet another picture, Art!
Shan't give you the URL because I'm horrid like that. They point out that the Carvair was an adaptation of the DC4, having the cockpit removed and elevated, the crew compartment forming that distinctive 'hump' and thus allowing the loading of cars. Let's have a picture of that venerable old trooper, the DC4. Art!
The Carvair flew the London to Paris route that those very first AW Argosy's did back in the Twenties, as well as from England to Eire, and also in The Land Of Ocker (Australia if we're being formal).They served well into the twenty-first century because they were so cheap to run, since their donor aircraft, the DC4, had been so numerous that there were warehouses of spare parts going.
Hmmmm not far off, not far off.
Motley! Time for pie!
SUCCESS! I AM TRIUMPHANT!
Don't worry, Conrad has not taken over the world whilst you weren't looking*. No, I refer to my giant cryptic crossword jigsaw puzzle, where 25 Across was missing from the list and I had to improvise "WHITTLE" as an answer. The rest have been completed by Your Modest Artisan, and I have proof. Obviously, knowing what a collection of skeptical scamps you are. art!
Conrad gloastingly showed this to Wonder Wifey, who belaboured me about spoiling it for anyone else in future. Well, she might have had a point were that pen not a whiteboard one, and the whole lot swept clean away after being completed. I'm not going to post a picture of the cleaned puzzle because I'm horrid like that.
Once this puzzle is broken up and boxed away, I can begin the 3D Empire State Building one, since I shall have a nice large portable flat surface to work on.
There Are Challenges, And There Are Flat-Out Nopes
Okay, this one needs a bit of background. Your Humble Scribe is venturing into Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell today, in order to ascend the dizzy heights of the Dark Tower. For one thing, as a trial run before we have to return to the office in September. For another, because Conrad's old pedestal still contains a desk-tidy with at least 30 pens, a small desk fan, a one-man teapot with cozy, a bag of porridge oats and a severed human hand roll of sellotape. I need to reclaim these and deposit them in a locker. Art!
That's me on the 17th floor, waving
Thus I have had to pack a bag ready for tomorrow. I can't use my old ex-laptop bag since the strap fell off, and my most recently-used rucksack - EXCUSE ME IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS! - has one strap rapidly failing. It would ill become an expensive laptop to impact terra firma because a strap broke, so I'm using the reserve back-up rucksack. What do I find in a side-pocket? Don't bother to guess, I'll just motivate Art with the sharp end of a bayonet -
Conrad suspects that these things have been there since long before the diabetes diagnosis. Mayonnaise kept at room temperature for seven years? What could possibly go wrong!
All consigned to the bin, and a jolly good thing, too.
Meanwhile, Back In Hobbs Lane -
That might only have meaning to a certain tranche of readers - but let's carry on anyway. Your Modest Artisan received a birthday present this morning - it being my birthday, making it only right and proper - and if Art can pause applying the burn lotion -
Conrad may not take it into work tomorrow, since it might get creased or greased. You can see stills from "Quatermass", "Beasts" and "The Stone Tape" on the cover here. Conrad especially remembers that episode of "Beasts" with a horribly creepy beast appearing in the final scene. Brrrrrrr!
<quickly changes the subject> "Quatermass And The Pit" is from the very dawn of the television era, yet still retains it's ability to cause horripilation, partly thanks to the excellent and scary sound effects. It can still bestir jaded old hacks today; just imagine how FRIGHTENING it was 75 years ago. Art!
The good Professor and Martian exhibit.
I don't need to point out which is which, do I?
There is a film poster for the Hammer film that came out much later, which seems to focus inordinately on Barbara Shelley's cleavage, so it's bordering on NSFW. Shall we, Art? O go on - a small version.
That's all you get. Perverts.
Finally -
Ah me, if only there were 25 hours in a day and I didn't need to sleep. There's still the War Diary of 2nd Battalion the Lancashire Fusiliers of First Unpleasantness vintage to wade through, not to mention "Dad's Army" and "Yes Prime Minister", plus "Farscape", and four newspapers that each have a cryptic crossword and a codeword. It would also be a good idea if I had a shower before going to work tomorrow, as I honk a bit, frankly.
* It will happen sooner than you think.
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