One Of This Sceptred Isle's Delights
Is our weather. You are never without an ice-breaker in this country thanks to the weather, which is only ever extreme to the point of being disgusting, instead of dangerous. Not for us the visceral thrill of both possessing a tornado cellar and having to use it every so often. If we ever hear a siren on the streets of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell it will be because the Ruffians are invading*, rather than 'Act like salt, get in a cellar'. Art!
<sighs> No, Art. No. Shall I get the Tazer?
There we go. You can do it if you try. Actually the Tazer is still charging up but let's keep that from Art, hmmmm?
ANYWAY Friday was one of those days where it begins with mocking sunshine, since Your Humble Scribe was working. Working from home is still working. No, I can't go work in the back yard, the sunshine is too bright and I can't see my screen. Of course - obviously! - because this is Britain, the weather got cloudier and cloudier the closer it got to knocking-off time, and to top it off - Art!
Hailstones big as bullets. Hard as bullets, too, since Wonder Wifey and Degsy were rash enough to take Edna for a trot between showers, which turned into 'during a shower'. Meanwhile Tom, in Liverpool, only thirty miles away, said it was 'cracking the flags' there, which is Scouse argot for 'Very sunny'. Yeah truly, four seasons in one day.
Today we have big white clouds, a nice change from the Uniform Grey Layer of earlier in the week, where you know it's going to rain all day long, all night long and into the next day, too. What Conrad, to hilarious comic effect, calls the British Monsoon. Art!
Manchester natives enjoying a bath
Conrad well remembers a note on an exhibition of Pakistani artists at the old Library; having emigrated to This Sceptred Isle they had a hard time getting their head around how wet it was.
Motley, bring me that golfing umbrella and my best Wellington boots, for I intend to go for a walk.
Conrad, As Seethy As Ever
Just because I've not been venting my Righteous Rancourous Rage lately doesn't mean I've mellowed AT ALL. O no. I have been making detailed notes, and a whole lot of Codeword compilers are going to be hewing rock in the uranium mines when I take over**.
"AGAMA": HA! <snaps fingers, hurts self, cries> Caught you out on that one, didn't I, Mister Smarty-Pants Compiler? Because you've used it twice before. Yes, I have a mind like a skip, but I know where everything is. Art!
AS you can see, it's a lizard. And that's quite enough of that.
"OLEANDER": If, like Conrad, you've read lots of translated Greek classics, then you might think this was one of the mythical heroes of yore. You know, alongside Pericles or Lysander. Art!
Sorry, I think Art's got warplanes on the brain today. Art, let me motivate you with this red-hot toasting fork -
CAUTION: can kill
Best not touch, the sap can cause contact dermatitis and if consumed it can affect the heart, circulatory system and nerves, as well as causing nausea and vomiting. Dodgy stuff!
"AIOLI": Dog Buns! How unfair is that, using a French condiment as a solution? And a five-letter word with four vowels? Kreplach! For those of you whom are interested WHICH OUGHT TO BE ALL OF YOU it's made from oil, garlic, salt and egg, which are all mashed together into a puree. Art!
Good. I don't think there's an aircraft called the 'Puree' but with Art one can never be sure.
Bring On The Blue
Another photograph on the theme of 'Into The Blue' from the BBC's pages, thanks for the input Auntie. Art!
Courtesy Jane Elle
This is the photographer's friend, a picture taken on Sardinia. Visible in the reflection on her lenses is the Isola Di Tavolara (and a few beers). Art!
Said island
More Of "Tormentor"
Yes, because I've not had a single complaint about relentlessly promoting myself, which means everyone loves it, and don't forget, there are much, much longer works still in the offing.
Without
classes to teach, Louis went back to his pokey little shared room, which
happened to be shared that late morning.
‘I’ll ****** off elsewhere,’ he
told the chattering women infesting the room.
‘No don’t bother to stop yarking,’ he continued in high old temper,
slamming the door behind him. ‘Thank you
so ******* much!’
He stamped down the corridor,
looking for an empty room. Not so much
for planning or organising or anything apart from sitting in stunned
contemplation of the incredible turn of events.
Beware came a drifting, penetrating whisper. Beware.
Thank you, Yvonne. Aha!
A door handle turned under his
palm. He strode into the room and
flicked the flourescents on, bringing the two dozen desks into better
resolution under their mock daylight.
Dingy grey November daylight, the kind that seemed to have been filtered
through fog, shone wearily into the room.
“The Krebs Cycle” announced a
poster, alongside one that showed the periodic table. Floor tiles that had been white in the
Seventies now looked up at him with grimy, inground dirt.
At that moment Louis would have
given a lot, several dozen pounds, for a long whisky on the rocks.
‘Does karma exist in reality?’ he
asked the room. Do good and good will be
done unto you. Damn, trying to
retrospectively accommodate his long-abandoned Catholic school upbringing with
what he observed was difficult!
In order to look more official he
unpacked his briefcase and arranged the files on his chosen desk. Very proper.
Staring hard at them might make sense of his life to date. Moving from everybody-hating hermit to
cautiously-considerate toe-in-the-water naif –
Bam! went the door to the room, flung open recklessly. Louis shot upright in fright.
Ha. Always leave 'em wanting more. You'll have to come back to find out what happens next.
O Dearie Me
Conrad has just discovered "The Expanse: Season 6" on Amazon Prime. I dared not even begin to see if it would play for I wouldn't stop watching for another 10 hours and I have things to do. Later!
Finally -
Let's hear it for The Bronk! I refer, of course - obviously! - to that very prescient member of the Royal United Services Institute, Justin Bronk, whose name and face have graced these pages before. Briefly put, The Bronk is an expert on modern air warfare and in a recent Youtube he was discussing an official Ruffian video released by their MOD with 'Mooch', whose parents called him Ward Carroll, and who was a pilot himself. Art!
I shan't point out who's who, it should be obvious. ANYWAY The Bronk had an interesting insight into that Ruffian landing craft that blew up in Berdyansk. Art!
'Run away! Run away!'
The Bronk said that Ruffian ammunition storage protocols and handling are appallingly lax. Essentially, they never throw anything away, and then take great pains to store it dangerously. He suspects that the explosion was a product of Ruffian couldn't-care-less attitude about ammunition storage, as it didn't look like a missile strike to him, and more like horribly out-of-date ammo cooking off.
* All three of them.
** For Your Information, my starship invasion fleet is now 243 years distant***.
*** Yes, they are a bunch of slackers.
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