Serendipity Strikes Sinisterly

As You Should Surely Know By Now

Your Humble Scribe is interested in Polish culture (and cuisine); this week I am dining on Polish Hunter's Stew for lunch, made up on Sunday in a big pot.

     So, when I went a-shopping at the Co-Op on Tuesday and I accidentally saw this - 

But of course

     Naturally I purchased it, even if it's a bit pricey for what it is.  

     But wait!  For what is this on the cover -

"Tobruk"

     This word "Tobruk" refers to a port in North Africa, which was fought over extensively during the Second Unpleasantness.  Where do the Poles come in, you ask given, that neither Poland nor North Africa have a contiguous border?

     It's a long story, so I shall paraphrase and edit it a little.  A lot of Poles got away from Poland after it was over-run by the Teutons, many of them through Romania - dictatorships not liaising properly.  They made their way to France and then to This Sceptred Isle after the Teutons over-ran France.  By this time they were not only seething with rage, they merely had to be pointed at the Teutons for bad things to happen.  They were decanted into the port of Tobruk when the Ockers went back to defend Australia; and they were perfectly happy making the Teutons as miserable as possible.  The Italians, too, if they had to make do with them.  Art!

Poles with goals

     The problem is that it's all in Polish, and my familiarity with that language amounts to 'Djen Dobrie' ("Good Morning").  I've translated Finnish books before, so doing this with a mere newspaper holds no fear for me.

     Motley!  Get this rag and clean the windows.  You know, give them a -

Conrad, Once Again, Is Seething

Yes, back again.  We've not been ranting and tanting about Codewords for a couple of days, which is because I've not been doing them.  Lazy me.  Well, the Frothing Nitric Ire drought is over, since I solved a Codeword today.  I had begun it last night, whilst also watching "Squid Game", which proved that this process was going nowhere.  So I buckled down and went at it today.  What a hero!

"HYACINTH":  I did wonder if this might have been "CYANOTIC", because that's totally a thing, since I'd already got the ""Y" and was guessing that 1 was "C", which it so obviously wasn't.  Conrad mildly seething that the solution was a species of flower, named after the Greek Huakinthus, who was offed under very sleazy circumstances, it seems.  Art!

But they named a flower after him, so that's alright

"NYALA":  You what?  Conrad had the "Y" and the "A"s and could think of no solution other than "NYASA", which he went to the bother of looking up in his Collins Concise, that's the kind of trouble Your Humble Scribe goes to.  It's a lake in Malawi, for your information.  HOWEVER the solution meant that "S" was very obviously not correct.  I back-filled it from other solutions and have no idea where or what NYALA is or are.  Can you eat it? is naturally my first question.

     Ah.  It was on the other side of the page Nyasa was on.  "A horned antelope of southern African origin, with a fringe of white hairs along it's back".  Art!

No tasteless jokes here, folks.

"QUOTIDIAN": AHA!  This is one of the benefits of reading Pynchon novels, because Conrad remembers reading this word in "Against The Day" and looking it up, because that's the kind of anorak I am.  As I recall, it means to do things on a daily basis <checks> yup "recurring daily".  Thank you Collins Concise.  Art!

Long may this quotidian event keep occurring

     However, Conrad is looking at the bigger picture here.  How many of you out there would realise what that word was before it got back-filled by other solutions?  And think it was a variety of polygon, or a breed of Swiss mountain goat?  Exactly.

     I shall gloss over "BHAJI" because they used that only a couple of weeks ago and I merely laughed at the compilers, also using the Remote Nuclear Detonator on one of them, just to make my point.

Another Dose Of Doom

Yes, another bite-sized extract from "Tormentor" and note how I gratify it with the Fuschia that defines media works that have been published.

‘Just that one I mentioned before,’ he confirmed.  ‘Is that any use?’

               ‘I hope so, sir,’ said one.  ‘It all helps to build up a picture.’

               No sooner were they gone than the spirit-Jennifer came out of the kitchen.  Half-expecting her, Louis didn’t jump in surprise.

               ‘At least you stayed out of the way.’

               The spirit shrugged.

               ‘I thought you might have trouble concentrating with me there.  Did they - ’

               ‘Yes, they had a photo of the killer and yes I identified him.  Unfortunately I had to be a bit vague in explaining how I knew him.’

               Louis looked at Jennifer’s spirit appraisingly.  It wasn’t Jen, he reminded himself.

               ‘I’ve got questions for you,’ he said, patting the settee.  The spirit daintily sat, hands in lap, like a schoolgirl ready for her catchism.

               He went through the list of questions made earlier.  Disappointingly, there were few answers.

               ‘I’ve only been around for a few days.  I’m not an expert!’ replied the spirit, crossly.  Then she got a bright expression on her face, achingly close to those Jen had when she suddenly “got” a concept in English.

               ‘You should see a priest!’

               ‘What!’ exclaimed Louis.  ‘Are you mad?  I haven’t been near a church since I finished high school.’

               ‘But perhaps religion seems a little less nonsensical now?’ teased the spirit.  ‘Priest, vicar, rabbi, I don’t think it matters which.’

               ‘This is the sort of thing you talk over with friends over a pint.  Except I don’t have any.  Friends.  Whisky neither.’

               ‘Drinking pints of whisky is very bad.  Makes you an alcoholic,’ said Jennifer, primly.

               ‘It helps you sleep at night,’ grumbled Louis.  ‘I’m going to make my tea.  Er – do you need any kind of food?’

               ‘No.  I think I just subsist on moonbeams and love.’

               ‘And sarcasm.  I see your personality and memory and consciousness survive – hey, does that define a spirit?’

     Sarcasm and an unwillingness to tolerate blasphemy.  Who knew!

Those Temperature Inversions

You recall that rather eerie photograph I presented, showing the Fog Creatures Invading Scotland?  Well, there are quite a few others on the same theme, which is great for Conrad as it means less heavy lifting in having to be creative.  Art!

Courtesy Ian Kelt (yes really)

     This is taken from Dumyat, a peak near Stirling.  Conrad unsure what that trellised tower stranded in the midst of the mists is.  Shall we check?  O go on then.

     I can tell you it's not Stirling Castle, which is much lower and less dramatic.  Art!

Also not surrounded by mountains

Finally -

Conrad et al have been watching an interesting documentary about anthology horror films, the name of which escapes me.  Hang on - "Tales of the Uncanny" - there you go, public service performed.  They claimed that this genre began with a classic British version, "Dead Of Night", which had various characters at a country house reciting their own experiences of the uncanny and un-natural.  Art!

"One of us in this room is a cannibal.  There.  I said it."

     Conrad, of course - obviously! - has seen it, and remembers very little.  There was one about a bus, and another about George the Generator 'dying' and that's it.

     Okay, sweet Vulnavia, time to crank up the Hyperspace Transmission Coil and contact my starship invasion force!