A Log Of Travel

Not, It Has To Be Said, A Travelogue

Because that would require a set of photographs, and I didn't take any, being firstly nose deep in "The Metro"'s cryptic crossword (which I smashed by the way OBVIOUSLY) and next reading "The Bat".

     Here an aside.  Yes already, do keep up!  "The Bat" is the first murder mystery thriller to feature Harry Hole (pronounced 'Hue-lly), the hulking Norwegian detective created by author Jo Nesbo.  Ignore the version as seen in the film - Art!

     Harry is on a case in Australia, a country he has never visited and which is about as big a contrast as you can get with Norway.  For starters, Oz is pretty flat.  It's also extremely hot, to the point that you can die from dehydration if you get lost in the outback. Norway does not have this problem, because there you can die from hypothermia if you get lost in the mountains.  Nor does Norway possess ferocious carnivorous salt-water crocodiles, nor yet legions of hideously venomous creepy-crawlies .  So far there has been little to no mention of either rugby or cricket, which is disappointing given the title.  Art!

Unless ...

     ANYWAY back to the log of travel. The fun started with the 409 0at 8:07 not turning up, then the 08:12 not turning up and the 08:17 being late, because of the huge crush of passengers - well no, there were hardly any passengers.  What's going on?

     Then, as we entered Babylon-lite (Royton if we're being formal) another 409 overtook us.  What's going on?  By the time we get to High Barn Street there are three 409s in a little convoy all of their own.  What's going on? <martyred sigh>.  Art!

     

The rare and elusive 409 in it's natural setting

     And of course - obviously! - there were passengers getting on and off at EVERY SINGLE STOP.  The Dog Buns! bumbletucks, don't they realise I have a schedule to keep?  The 84 into Gomorrah-in-the-Irwell did miss out a few stops <gasps of shock> BUT did hit roadworks and a traffic tailback.  So there's that.

     Conrad thinks it's time to stop typing about travel, because this is tempting the anger of Hermes (the god of transport), who is ever-vigilant and quick to anger, and I have the grim prospect of travelling on First after 18:00, when their service is even less reliable/even more unreliable <delete where applicable> than usual.

Art!

A Little Musical Critique

We haven't done one of these for a while, which has lulled various bands and musicians into a false sense of security - now watch them scuttle like cockroaches when the lights come on!  And today we are looking at The Who's "Baba O'Riley", which Conrad was convinced in his younger days was called "Teenage Wasteland".  It's a corker of a song, don't get me wrong, but O! the lyrics.

Out here in the fields

Obviously we are dealing with a labourer here, possibly a farmer or fieldhand.  Maybe even an agronomist, because let us not stand in judgement!

I fight for my meals

Really?  I just pop down the road to Tesco

I get my back into my living

'Put your back into it' is an old Anglo-Saxon imprecation that implies those being imprecated aren't really making enough of an effort

I don't need to fight

Conrad confused.  You were all about fighting a minute ago!

To prove I'm right

Agreed.  Boxing is not widely recognised as a means of philosophical problem-resolution.

I don't need to be forgiven

Hmmmm sounds like a guilty conscience to Conrad and believe me he knows ...

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

This is called overplaying your hand.  One 'Yeah' would suffice, two is excessive and six is downright Continental in it's hubris.

     Roger and Pete are looking a tad nervous.  The best is yet to come, chaps!

Conrad: Angry As Per Usual

Not merely thanks to First Bus and their management manglement - that fool Bloaty Gas Tout outsourced his military planning to them, I bet - but Lo! we are back on Your  Humble Scribe's favouritest rantings: Codeword solutions.  You will comprehend my Frothing Nitric Ire when I type them out.

"KILOJOULE":  WHAT ARE WE ALL HIGH-ENERGY PHYSICISTS NOW!  Really.  A Joule is a unit of energy as used in scientific measurements, named after Mister Joule as I recall*.  Of course - obviously! - a KILOJOULE is one thousand Joules, because why not make the solution as ridiculously convoluted as possible, nicht wahr?  Art!

James and the giant beard

"CHUTZPAH":  WHAT?  WHAT!  ARE WE ALL FLUENT IN YIDDISH NOW! <grinds teeth together in fury>.  If you are not familiar with this word, and unless you are either South Canadian or Israeli you won't be, it means 'to have an excessive amount of cheek' or  what we bluff Northern folk call 'brass neck'.  Art!

"USURY":  Not to be confused with the Ussuri, which is a river forming the border between parts of Ruffia and the Populous Dictatorship - we may come back to this.  ANYWAY usury is the practice of lending money at ruinous rates of interest, where Hapless Harry borrows £100 from Ursurer Unwin and after six months owes £150,000.  That sort of financial shenanigan.  Userers, also known as 'loan sharks' in South Canada, are keen to remain off the radar and avoid involvement with law enforcement.

The Ussuri.  Far more pleasant than a loan shark.

Finally -

Once again Your Humble Scribe puts forward his views on Bloaty Gas Tout's (I love that nickname! and doubtless the FSB are dying to give Conrad a Novichok cocktail or two) 'Special' Military Operation, hopefully without blood and thunder because we can get quite enough of that from the regular media.  Art!

     Don't worry, Kremlin Bot-trolls, it's all going according to plan!  It must be a subtle and long-term plan of immense cunning that none of us mere plebs can understand, mustn't it?  The Swedes don't have a large active army or reserves, unlike Finland (then they don't have a border with the Ruffians either).  Which means Finland is effectively their geographical shield, so the Swedes could mobilise whilst Suomi takes the brunt of any Ruffian attack.  Art!

     In other late-breaking news, the Ruffians have nationalised the Renault car factory that the M8s had in Ruffia, and will be producing cars under the old Sinister-era 'Moskvitch' marque.

     O dear.

     Conrad is considerably older than you, gentle reader, and can remember the dreadful reputation of the Moskvitch back in the day.  Cheap, nasty and shoddily put together; workers on the Moskvitch production lines used hammers to drive home screws because it was faster and you hit your norms quicker.

     This does not bode well.

*  One of Salford's famous sons.