Actually, Conrad Unsure How To Pronounce That
This fear of an unintentional pronunciation faux pas is one reason he is very wary about using Latin <hack spit> phrases for fear of getting it wrong whilst trying to sound intellectual. This is the ONLY reason you are allowed to use Latin. I think priests have an out on this but will have to check. Art!
Uke BTR4. Of this, more later.
Because, really, making a Latin phrase sound exciting is an uphill struggle.
ANYWAY whilst talking about hills, we come to Pnyx. This is a contribution from those rascals Steve and Oscar, having come to the forefront of my mind yesteryon whilst out of range of writing paper (for I am never without a pen).
Here an aside. I have abbreviated the Anglo-Saxon phrase 'Don't get your knickers in a twist' for today's title to hilarious effect, which probably needs a slight touch of translation to make sense to any South Canadian readers present. "Don't get your panties in a bunch" would be the equivalent. NO there will be no illustration from Art, you fearful perverts! In fact -
A Pnyx. Possible the Pnyx.
As good as a cold shower. Right, back to this mysterious 'Pnyx'. Your Humble Scribe was aware it had it's origins in ancient Greece. It wasn't that river in the underworld that needed a ferry to cross, that was the Styx and the ferryman was Charon. Conrad has his own tale of travel trouble today which you will no doubt get to hear, like it or not.
Here an aside. Pretty sweet gig, that ferrying operation. One suspects that Charon was bribing someone in the Hades civil planning branch, because surely a bridge would be far simpler and more ergonomic? Which is the Greek for "The laws of work", and now we know more than we did five minutes ago. Art!
Charon, coining it in, the piker
ANYWAY you may not have heard of the Pnyx, which is not altogether surprising unless you study the history of ancient Greece. It is a small, rocky hill which at the time was just far enough from the agora in Athens to avoid the tumult and noise of that city's social and economic centre. It was also conveniently close for those who wanted to gather and blather, making it a very important site in the history of democracy, since these gatherings began two and a half thousand years ago. Art!
That small stone structure to starboard is the Speakers plinth, where Greeks would get up and attempt to sway the crowd. Many of their most outstanding historical figures got up and tried their rhetoric here - Pericles, Alcibiades and Demosthenes are three of the names I recognised. The Greek principles of equality - of speech, of accession to positions of authority and of vote - were encapsulated in assemblies upon the Pnyx, and the principal speaker began proceedings by asking if anyone - literally anyone - wished to address the Popular Assembly.
Noble beginnings indeed!
Unfortunately I cannot explain why, for any reason, this came up to front of brain. If you have any answers, please add them in the Comments. Art!
"I am allowed to speak first because I wear the Magic Helmet!"
The Travails Of Travel Today
Not in general, Conrad doesn't care what horrors you suffer, it's all about me me me. And this morning was especially awful. The 409 managed to turn up on time, be a double-decker and had The Metro, hooray -
Not so fast, matey. Firstly, it was packed, which is unusual at that point in it's journey. A little sly eavesdropping (one of my talents) revealed that the previous bus and the bus before that never turned up. So, of course - obviously! - there were swarms of passengers a-waiting, which made the journey even slower. Plus one particular passenger brought their shrieking infant aboard, ignoring them for five minutes, before removing them from their bed of nails or similar, which stopped the caterwauling. Then we hit roadworks ...
A journey the timetables laughingly claim takes 15 minutes took 40. Art!
Happy laughing Conrad*
Let Us Soothe Nerves With A Pretty Picture
I find the best way to settle nerves is a bathful of brandy, you marinade in it whilst drinking it, and that way your nerves are most definitely settled. Right! Since we must stay sober, for we are at work, let us instead have one of those Sony World Photography candidates. Art!
Here you see 'a wild stallion' a.k.a. a mustang, 'kicking up a dust storm'. Indeed. Perhaps some hapless First Bus passenger was eyeing him up as an emergency method of gaining the homestead. If it was Conrad then a casserole would occupy the forefront of his attention. Art!
Sorry, couldn't resist
Have We Had Enough Of Torment For Today?
NO! We are a collective glutton for punishment, because here's another extract from "Tormentor", where, if you recall, what looked like The Prof was making Luma very, very suspicious. Even more so than usual.
‘Then
again, I still have my crucifix. I never
take that off now! And - ’
With a satisfyingly loud click
the kettle switched itself off.
‘And what?’ asked the Professor,
hovering closer. Literally hovering, a
gap appearing beneath the floor and his neat and tidy shoes. Louis ignored him to make the cup of tea
properly, sipping it to make sure there was enough milk.
‘Ahh! Can’t beat a good cup of tea.’ He switched hands, waving his right one right
in front of the Professor. ‘And my
bracelet.’
The Professor hissed mutedly and
backed away.
‘Careful with that!’
‘Also, I have a couple of other
items. Here, I’ll show you - ’
Louis strode into the back room,
followed by what he was convinced was another spirit trying to imitate the
starchy Swiss tutor, and not quite managing.
After all, the Prof knew all about that bracelet.
‘Damn, where did I put it?’
He was trying to draw the
conversation out, to see if he could trick this spirit into revealing itself,
because it surely wasn’t the Professor.
Not that he dared to simply hit it with hand-thrown silver shot.
The Professor leaned forward and
put his hands on the table that supported Louis’s computer, as if tired and
trying to remain balanced.
‘Sorry, I know it’s here …’ and
Louis tailed off, seeing one of the “Professor”s hands pressed heavily onto the
table rapidly shrivel into a big clawlike appendage, dotted with liver spots,
sprouting long white hairs. Talons,
too. Without speaking, even if his arms
sprouted gooseflesh at the eerie sight, Louis stuck his right hand into his
jeans pocket.
‘Trouble with your ectoplasm?’ he
asked quietly.
How postively unexpected! Well, partially-unexpected. Okay okay, you could see it coming. Happy now?
Hang on! Wait one! Let us check and see if the Champion Grumpy Old Man of contemporary music is still alive. Art?
How to scare cats the Don Fagen way!
Phew, he is. That was a narrow escape. On with the motley!
Finally -
I did warn you that we'd come back to the 'Bucephalus', which is the Ukes own name for their variant of the BTR4, as seen above. Let me refresh your memory. Art!
This is a bit of a hybrid. It carries 8 infantry in the back, and a remote-controlled turret aloft, so it can mix it with other armoured vehicles, as well as being a battle-taxi for the dismounts. The 30 m.m.** cannon is a pretty formidable weapon in it's own right, and the Ukes tend to pair it with a machine-gun, and grenade launchers. No, it doesn't have the reach and resoluteness of a tank, but it doesn't have to because the dismounted infantry protect it, as it protects them. There is graphic evidence of this on Youtube should you wish to look; we shall draw a veil over it.
And Bucephalus? The chosen steed of Alexandros Meglos, or Alexander the Great to you (the Uke's Cyrillic alphabet being derived from the Greek one), which is where we came in.
Pip pip!
* Generating blog content is NOT sufficient compensation.
** Apologies for using Metric here.
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