From A Different Perspective

Here's A Thing I Learned from Reddit

In any South Canadian film that features the pastoral outdoors, you are guaranteed to see dirty great cylinders out abutting farm buildings: these are silos.  No, not the ones that house Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles.  They are grain silos.  Art!

     I don't need to tell you which is which, do I?  Okay, the article that dealt with silo management involved grading the grains brought to the silo by farmers, by sifting out what shouldn't be in there.  You really don't want your loaf of bread full of weeds, dead creepy-crawlies, chaff, grass and other guff, do you?  Of course not; that's why they sift the grain, which increases it's value.  Let's have another silo illustration, just because I like making Art work for his coal.  Art!

     One of the worst things you can find in grain are seeds from the Datura Ferox, also known as the Fierce Thornapple, which surely looks the part.  Art!

     This thing is incredibly toxic and all parts of the plant are hotching with poison, meaning that you have to get it removed and disposed of in the sifting process, no exceptions.  The more of it in a grain shipment, the more it costs to get them sifted out.

     The OP's husband managed grain silos, and dealt with farmers who had rung ahead and pre-booked appointments for sifting and storage.  Enter Entitled Bottomhole Farmer, who simply rocked up without an appointment and proceeded to throw his weight around.  The grain grader (not a job title you ever thought you'd hear today) assayed a sample of EBF's grain and found 130 parts Datura Ferox present, which - and I take this implicitly as this area is novel to me - the OP said was quite high.  Art!

     EBF was, of course - obviously! - irate at this, claimed his sample that he'd taken earlier was a lot lower and do it again.

     Same result.

     EBF is now in a simmering rage.  OP's husband arrives and EBF tells him to do a sample assay, watching every step of the process.

     Ooops.  Sample now counts 165 DF seeds.

     'Er - do it for the original 130 sample,' blusters EBF.

     'No. 165 it is, 165 it stays,' responds OP's Hubby.

     So for being a entitled bottomhole, EBF ends up paying £150 more than he needed, because nobody likes a bottomhole, especially an entitled one.

     I thought this was a fascinating insight into a field - do you see w O you do - that I was completely unfamiliar with.

     Yes yes yes, I can bore for days about ICBM silos, it's just that not many people seem to be interested in listening to me waffle on about them.  Isn't that strange?

Talking Of Perspectives

Your Humble Scribe purchased a bottle of beer, which is not unusual, except he did so because he thought it celebrated the RAF's finest Giant Flying Mallet.  Art!

     Obviously this can only be 'Lancaster Bomber', can't it? and as I type this I am wearing a t-shirt with the bomber's picture and stats present.  We'll come back to this later.  Art!

     Ooops.  O well, at least it's not flavoured with 'upcycled Coco-Pops' <shudders in mild revulsion>.  

Conrad Sneers In Disbelief

I do a pretty good sneer, you know.  I get lots of practice in, as when listening to Tsar Putin blather on about how the Moon and Sun and in fact the entire Universe belong to him him him

     ANYWAY there I was on the bus, when I caught sight of the 181 as it diverted off to travel into Chadderton.  Seeing a 181 bus is an event in itself, I think they only run once an hour on the odd-numbered days in a month if there's a full moon and the goat's entrails were favourable back at the management meeting.  Art!

     "First Bus and Unite - celebrating twenty years of a lifelong learning partnership" it says, if your glazzies can't quite resolve the frankly skanky picture quality (I was in a hurry and am not good with mobile phones).  Conrad unsure who or what 'Unite' might be, but he suggests that they 'Untie' from First Bus.  Honestly, if First Bus were in charge of developing the petrol engine, we'd still have steam-driven cars.

Speaking Of First Bus -

It is indeed time for another dose of "Tormentor" - ha! take that First, see how you like it, hmmmm?  

‘Oh really?’

               ‘Yes, really!’ snapped the Professor.  ‘Have you not seen what passes for informed media in the present day?’

               Louis frowned with a twinge of annoyance.

               ‘Hey, it’s my day, don’t crit it.  What are you talking about?’

               The spirit vanished, then reappeared with a paper.  One of the free ones that arrived unbidden and unwanted, full of inserts for local small businesses touting for custom.  The Professor flicked from the rear of the paper, before thrusting it at Louis.

               ‘Look at that.  Go ahead, only look.’

               Rolling his eyes at the insistence of Mister Sniffy, Louis looked.

               ‘What am I looking for?’  he asked, before realising that he was looking at a page full of adverts for tarot readings, divinations, psychic telephone lines, crystal ball gazers and a horde of other variations on the psychic theme.

               ‘Sheer garbage!’ snorted the Professor.  ‘Frauds and charlatans every one.  Can you even begin to imagine the impact a real, verifiable seer would make?’

               Out of curiosity Louis turned the television on, bringing up the channel guide. 

               S***, yes, he could suddenly see what the Professor meant.  Look at those titles:  “Psychic Sleuths”, “Communing with the Spirits”, “World’s Most Haunted”, “Ghost Hunt Live”.

               ‘I’d be a celebrity.  Well, if I could prove things.’

               The spirit shook it’s head.

               ‘You’d be in trouble!’  he snapped.  The television’s picture wobbled and shook, dissolving into static before resolving again.  ‘Really -  Marconi has so much to answer for.’

               ‘Don’t blow my telly up!’ worried Louis.  ‘It’s not insured for death by spirits.’

               He got an old-fashioned look from the spirit.

     O ho ho, what a card I was seven years ago when crafting this deathless prose.  I get the feeling that I had a famous dead person in mind for The Professor, except I never wrote down who it was and now cannot be bothered to go back and check on any notes that might still exist.

Wet Net

No!  Not teh Interwebz.  Fishing nets.  For Lo! we are back on Underwater Photographer of the Year, even if it's definitely not underwater. It is over water, so maybe we can stretch a point.  Art!

Courtesy Thien Nguyen Ngoc

     The background to this one is that these are Vietnamese fishing boats - you may have already reached that conclusion - out scooping the seas for anchovies.  If you know anything about Vietnamese cuisine then you know that Mam Nuoc, their fish sauce, is one of the basic cooking ingredients, and it's made from anchovies. 

     Conrad is not a fan of the anchovy.  I had a tin of them once, and it was like eating fish-flavoured salt.  Mam Nuoc and Vietnamese cuisine at Mi & Pho - that's a different matter altogether.

Finally -

I think we're practically at the Compositional Ton, which is a good thing as I intend to go downstairs and consume scran, probably Dog In The Manger Noodles, which is utter junk food but so so satisfying.