O! I Am Happy To See An Absence Of Criticisms
Principally about spelling, because that title is an hilarious pun YES IT IS not a spelling mistake. I think I must have vapourised all the carping cavillers who thought it amusing to poke fun. You poke fun? I press button. You are gone. I don't care if it doesn't scan or rhyme, it's what's going to happen to you. Art!
Remote Nuclear Detonator with puny humans for scale
ANYWAY I was off looking at the Mine Exploration Society's webpage and noticed that one of their members, Mike (presumably with a Polish background), had been and visited the Klodawa salt mine in Poland. He and his mate turned up just too late for the last guided tour <sad face> but a tour guide going free offered to take them around <very happy face>. Art!
Derelict mining machinery
I shall only use a few of his pictures because I didn't ask if I could <snickers and tweaks moustache ends>, so let us see what he was shown underground. Art!
Descent cage entrance (it's still a working mine)
Conrad is pretty sure we've covered this mine before, since I distinctly remember the religious iconography and sculptures from a different context. Let us have a couple of scene-setting pictures first. Art!
Rock tunnel with plant machinery
The next one isn't Mike's, just in case he sues and I have to remove his photographs, and all that will be left is this one, which is still better than nothing. Art!
Leonid Brezhnev, one of the doddering ancient rulers of the Sinister Union, once asked "How many divisions has the Pope?" Good question, Lenny. I think you'd probably have to reply "Actually most of Poland" (despite it being a Warsaw Pact country) because back in the day being Catholic was a way of thumbing your nose at the Ruffians. This was a very religious country, and guess what? you can tell when visiting the Klodawa salt mine, because - Art!
After all, are the KGB going to go grubbing about in salt mines? No. Besiddes which, who's going to go tell them about secret underground shrines? because if one of the miners did tell on his compatriots, he might find himself falling down a mineshaft or being crushed by a cave-in, completely by accident of course. Obviously*.
And on that grim note we shall skip gaily along to the next item, with a song on our lips and a sabre in hand.
Meanwhile, Beyond The Moon ...
If you recall, and you should, even if it was technically last year, the James Webb Space Telescope went scorching off the launchpad in French Guiana, en route to a position at the C2 Lagrange Point, a stable point in space where satellites can lurk without having to bother about making positional adjustments.
The first of about 350 steps was deploying the solar panels, and some day after that, the solar shield. If done successfully this would account for 262 of the steps. Art!
Solar shield begins deployment
(Artist's impression, obviously)
Once this had been successfully managed it would be time to swing out the wing mirrors, 3 to each side. Well, guess what, the solar shield is out and about so the mirrors are being swung into action. Art!
JWST now fully shielded
It is vitally important that these actions are completed right first time, since the JWST operates so far out there is no question of a Shuttle flight going up to fix mistakes.
Exciting times**.
Meanwhile, Seventy-Nine Years Ago
The Second Unpleasantness was in full swing, except that the pendulum of war had begun to swing most definitely against the Axis. This, of course - obviously! - is a reference to "The War Illustrated" and you are most definitely going to get the benefit of Conrad's best £5 spent in a long while. Art!
 |
| Note the date: 08/01/1943 |
This photo is of Benghazi harbour, and the Axis ships you see still burning there had been given a right shoeing by the Brylcreem Boys of the RAF. This port was one of only two between Tripoli and Cairo that could take an acceptable number of large ships, and as a result it had been bombed silly by both sides. The harbour was choked with sunken ships and the jetties and wharves were smashed to bits. However, since the fleeing Axis were
Here, at top, we see one of Rommel's improvised armoured vehicles, based on the chassis of the very, very obsolete Panzer Mk. II <long pause as Conrad goes off to dig up info on TANK>. Thanks to 'Tank Encyclopedia' I have found what the undamaged original was. Basically a light tank converted to carry a piece of heavy artillery. Art!
A Fahrgestell SiG 33
Definitely not a tank. The bottom picture isn't of a tank, either. It is, to be pedantically accurate, an Italian 'Semovente' or self-propelled gun. What they've done is take a rubbish light tank, remove the turret and stick a far bigger gun in, that can only fire forward. Art!
Semovente 47/32
I like to get these things right first time. Next!
More Of "Tormentor"
Luma's just spent an unpleasantly introspective morning at a funeral, salted with the prospect of revenge. Then -
Louis
went home to freshen up, before heading back to Angela’s. Jen turned up whilst he was changing his
shirt.
‘Nothing I haven’t seen already,’
she airily informed him as he twitched nervously.
‘Did you turn up at the funeral?’
he asked, getting a new shirt out.
‘Thought I saw you off in a corner.’
‘Certainly not!’ she
snapped. ‘Are you going over to
mum’s?’ she asked, instantly softening after the stern initial response.
‘I am. What she’s going through must be horrendous
and any help she needs, she ought to get.
Are you coming?’
‘No. Yes. I
shouldn’t. No. Oh, I will.
Nobody can see me.’
That transpired to be inaccurate.
The
mid-terrace was crowded with people in formal dress, talking in subdued
tones. Relatives of Angela, various
cousins and aunts and uncles, kept order and offered drinks or hors d’oeuvres
to those offering their sympathy.
Louis felt indecision sweep over
him the moment he put foot on the wooden flooring in the hall. Should he be here? He took a schooner of sherry to help decide
and keep his hands busy, sipping and acknowledging other mourners.
The spirit behind him felt no
such qualms. She moved into and through
people, making the occasional person shiver.
At one point she stopped and pointed to the flooring.
‘That’s where I had my secret
hidey-hole. Love letters to Simon. There’s a space under the parquetry a couple
of inches deep. Hey, wait - ’
She fell silent when Louis
entered the parlour. Angela, her white
skin rendered even whiter thanks to today’s events, sat in an easy chair, glass
of water at her side, box of tissues on her lap. Her red hair was scraped back in a bun,
leaving her finely-chiselled features looking taut and haunted.
‘Louis,’ she whispered. ‘You saw her last. What was she like?’
Feeling awkward and clumsy, he
knelt next to her.
‘Typical Jen. Mind going at a hundred miles per hour. Vivacious.
Blind Luma with science. Talk first, apologise later.’
With rare tact, the other two
people in the room made their apologies and left. Louis bowed his head.
‘Ange, if there’s any way I can
help, let me know.’
She nodded, surely having heard
the same words countless times today.
‘I mean it,’ and he took her left
hand in his, only for her to gasp in what might be pain, looking over his
shoulder.
Struck by sudden insight, Louis
turned too, to see a smiling Jen, eyes bright with tears. Then she vanished, as if she’d never been
there.
What the hell? he wondered. Had Angela seen –
‘She was there!’ wept Angela,
trying to smile, trying to grab tissues out of the box and trying to talk to
Louis. ‘Jen! Just for a second, then she was gone! She looked happy and sad at the same time!’
This interlude has repercussions later one. O yes indeedy.
Finally -
Since we are well over the Compositional Ton, it's time to stop waffling and start posting. Bring it on!
* Back in the Warsaw Pact days, the Polish 6th Pomeranian Parachute division was well-known for picking fights with Ruffian soldiers.
** For space nerds.
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