Steve And Oscar Strike Again

For That To Make Sense -

You'll just have to go back and read yesterday's evening blog, because I ain't explaining again.  Yes, I am horrid that way.  For today's example of a random word popping up in the mind, let us examine "Strigoi".  Art!

     Bit of a mirror-cracker, what?  ANYWAY the word comes from Romania, and refers to the spirits of unrestful dead, with it's roots in Latin <hack spit> as you might very well expect from a country with "Roman" in it's name: 'Striga'.  These unpleasant characters would rise from the grave and bother the living, having the ability to transform into an animal - hey a gallon of Special Brew gives me that ability too - or become invisible <insert tired joke here> and to refresh themselves they liked to dine on the blood of the living - good luck trying that with me, as the chlorine triflouride that flows through my alien veins is not good snacking.

     So!  They can be considered a kind of vampire-equivalent, just not as sexy and appealing as Anne Rice and Tom Cruise would have you believe.  Of course - obviously! - my investigations led back to "The Strain", which is a trilogy written by Guillermo Del Toro and another bloke - hang on - Chuck Hogan says Google.  Art!

     Curiously enough, these were made into a television series, with Guillermo alleging that the studio originally making the deal wanting them done as -

     Comedies.  What were they thinking or drinking?  ANYWAY they eventually made it to television, over four seasons, and diverged completely from the novels.  I know what I'm talking about, I watched Season One.  Interestingly, the strigoi of both were depicted as being the results of physiological changes, owing more to science than the supernatural.  Which is again odd, since the whole thing begins in pre-Biblical times with a literal fallen angel.

     Enough to give you glossophobia, hmmmmm?
     Motley!  Bring out the tetrodotoxin and darts, for I feel like being malicious with passers-by today.

Bring Out The Images Of Seventy-Nine Years Ago

For Lo! it's back to "The War Illustrated" and what images the censor deemed fit to release several weeks after they'd happened, because you don't want to tip your hand to the enemy.  Art!

     Here the British are swanking it a bit, holding a victory parade in Tripoli, the capital of Italian-occupied Libya, probably to the great un-amusement of Mussolini.  You can see Winnie driving along in review, with lots of nice shiny kit that had been specially cleaned up for the day, not carrying the metric ton of clutter that all Eighth Army vehicles were adorned with.  And at bottom, as part of the Highland Division, you can see a massed pipe band.  Quite what the local Libyans and resident Italians thought of this can only be imagined.  "Men In Skirts Crushing Tortured Animals To Death?"  Art!

Hamburg gets a malleting

     Those bright squiggly lines are tracer rounds from anti-aircraft guns, just to be clear.  I did refer to the Giant Flying Mallets of the RAF, and that's one squarely in the picture, an Avro Lancaster.  This was the 94th (!) such attack on the city, going for dockyards and U-boat pens along the Elbe river, in addition to bombing attacks on Caen, Bruges, St. Omer, Roosendaal, Wilhemlshaven, Lorient, the Ruhr and the list goes on and on.  Nazi Germany - truly a fortress without a roof.  As Herr Schickelgruber found out, it's all very well bombing someone, but - then they bomb you back.

Is Conrad Still Seething?

You bet his hairy white hindquarters he is!  I relent on the Codeword compilers of the world and how do they repay me?  In the most debased of currency, that's how.  So -

"BREVE": Say what?  Hang on whilst I consult the trust Collins Concise.  Probably derived from Latin and to do with being short or shorter or shortened.  "An accent placed over a vowel to indicate that it is short or pronounced in a particular way".  Ah.  How glad I am to now know more than I did two minutes away.  Art!

Hmmmmm.  Nope.

"APLOMB":  How unfair is this one?  The only person you will ever meet who would even possibly use this word is Conrad himself.  What does it mean?  Having great self-possession and confidence.  From <drum roll> FRENCH for a change, instead of Greek or Latin <hack spit> 'a plomb', that is, along the plumb line, being upright.  Art!

Close enough

"PEIGNOIR":  WHAT!  What in Dog Buns is this?  Hang on, hang on, let me consult the CC again.  "A woman's dressing gown" HOW IN THE GREAT SQUEAKING BATS WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS!  

     From the French again, and the word "Peigner" meaning "To comb" as it was worn whilst the lady brushed her hair.

     

     Bah!

     I shall leave off now before my blood pressure causes lava to spout from my eyeballs.

I'll Give You Torment

Luma had gone for a stroll to see more of the outside world, encountered a helpful spirit and a group of drunken chavs, both of whom interacted.  Then -

The first attack came in the bathroom.

               Afterwards, he could almost kick himself for not paying closer attention to the chilly air whilst he took off the crucifix to shave.  If he shaved last thing at night, he could avoid the chore next morning and gain an extra five minutes in bed, a nice indulgence when the mornings were cold and dark.

               Still with a generous amount of foam on his face, he peered in puzzlement at the mirror, wielding the razor with vigour.  From his perspective there seemed to be two small, bright red lights reflected in the surface.  He looked behind; nothing there to cause the reflection.

               When he looked back at the mirror the lights were closer, and brighter.  Still not putting the pieces correctly into place, he opened the cabinet door to look behind the mirror, and found himself looking at two glowing red objects that closely resembled cat’s eyes, floating in the middle of the cabinet.  The narrow, slitted pupils contracted.

               Then they blinked, and he realised they were eyes, spirit eyes, about as hostile and unpleasant as could be, the expression of an intellect non-human and threatening.  Not only that, the atmosphere in the bathroom suddenly chilled.  Literally.  His breath could be seen easily.

               A thin, indistinct outline formed against the bathroom wall, that of a spirit.  Louis backed away slowly, the hair on his forearms bristling.  An outline nothing like the human appearances he’d seen so far.

               Five sharp white triangles came out of nowhere, lengthening incredibly quickly, twitching and quivering in the air.  Then they drove right at him, the outline of a scrawny, sinewy arm becoming visible behind them, the bone-white triangles revealed as long talons on a bony hand, clutching towards his throat.

               ‘Christ!’ he burst out, which made the rapidly materialising creature wince away temporarily, the claws closing on empty air instead of his jugular.  Louis didn’t dare to try and retrieve his crucifix, which lay on the windowledge well within reach of the spirit.  The holy water was downstairs, the silver bracelet underneath his pillow.

     Definitely an Ooo-er Matron moment.  I shall leave you in suspense until tomorow about what happens next.

Finally -

We've hit the Compositional Ton, and it's only taken me an hour, so I shall shake my hand, pat myself on the back and go get lunch.  Walkies for Edna are a consideration (but don't tell her yet).