Anything Can Happen In The Next Half-Hour-Plus-An-Hour
Those of you that have a certain vintage to you (a polite way of saying "old") will of course recognise today's title as being more than a nod to the opening of Britain's premier futurologist, Gerry Anderson, and his series "Stingray". Art!
This guppy was the <adopts official-sounding voice> Primary Submarine Asset of the World Aqua Sea Patrol, being sent into action when a threat emerged from the briny deeps. Here an aside - yes already! - Captain Troy Tempest - Art!
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| Note jaunty set of service cap |
- was in fact based on a real-life person, one James Garner if you want to be specific. One is unaware that this was ever officially admitted because then they'd have needed his permission to use his likeness (refusal of same had an effect on certain strips in "Century TV 21") and he might have jibbed at same. Art!
ANYWAY none of this has anything to do with the rest of the Intro, I just wanted to get you in the right frame of mind for what follows, since we continue our Turkish gypsy folk-tale of "The Dead Man's Gratitude". It seems that logic, reality and the normal all take a very distant back seat in this tale - in fact, they are so far adrift it reminds one of Bloaty Gas Tout's seating arrangements. Recall, if you will, that our hero now has a dead man for a partner. A dead man perfectly capable of walking AND TALKING. Let that sink in for a minute. Okay, so the Deadite had stated that he and 'the lad' would be partners.
'So be it.'
'Come, I will bring you to a certain place.'
He took and brought him to a village. There was a girl, takes a husband, lies with him; by dawn next day the husbands are dead.
'I will hide you somewhere; I will get you a girl; but we shall always be partners.'
He found the girl (a dragon came out of her mouth).
'And this night when you go to bed, I too will lie there.'
He took his sword, he went near them. The lad said, 'That will never do. If you want her, do you take the girl.'
'Are we not partners? You, do you sleep with her; I also, I will sleep here.'
At midnight he sees the girl open her mouth; the dragon came forth; he drew his sword; he cut off its three heads; he put the heads in his bosom; he lay down; he fell asleep. Next morning the girl arose, and sees the man her husband living by her side. They told the girl's father. 'To-day your daughter has seen dawn break with her husband.'
'That will be the son-in-law,' said the father.
The lad took the girl; he is going to his father.
'Come,' said the dead man, 'let's divide the money.' They fell to dividing it.
There's a lot to unpack here, as they say. I think what the tale implies is that, in this particular village, when a certain maiden takes a husband, by dawn he is dead. Dead by dawn, hmmmm, where have I heard that before? One fondly imagines that the plural, 'husbands' is a typo, unless - well, perhaps Thanatos?
A skull with EYES? Pshaw!
"A dragon came out of her mouth" well you can't say I didn't warn you. Mr. Dead Man seems to have prior knowledge of this dragon lady - previous husband perhaps? Probably not, as the villagers would freak out to see a dead man walking around, and having comprehensible conversations. One also wonders - you know Conrad, as hair-splitting as anything - how this girl managed to breathe, eat and talk if she had a dragon for a tongue. Art!
Don't complain, ladies with dragons for tongues are hard to find
The text is rather obscure here, but it seems that Mr. Deadite waited until the three-headed dragon (three heads? how could she even eat!) makes an appearance and then - chop! - they're history.
No mention of the girl waking up in shrieking agony, bleeding from the mouth thanks to a severed tongue. Must have made 'em tough in those days. Perhaps she ran it under a cold tap and put Sudocrem on it?
The consequent marriage ritual is also backwards; because the husband survived he is now the son-in-law? No wedding ceremony? I did warn you in today's title. Frankly, I think that's enough mind-bending madness for one Intro.
The happy couple
"Miss Pym Disposes" By Josephine Tey
I've only just noticed on the inner leaves that Ms. Tey ordained that all profits from her novel be directed to the National Trust. What a class gel she was!
There is a twist in the tale right at the end that completely up-ends the final few chapters, and I didn't see it coming. Art!
ANYWAY I did mention yesteryon about annoying our Russian audience with a quote, which I shall here append. Don't forget this novel dates from 1946, when the Chilly War was underway. We have a Swedish character speaking to Miss Pym.
FRA GUSTAVSEN: Please do not think that I am Russian about it. It is -
MISS PYM: Russian?
FRA GUSTAVSEN: Yes. Naive, and ignorant, and sure that no one can do anything as well as my own country can do it.
We all know that the Ruffians claim to have invented jazz, mice and tapioca pudding against all the evidence. Although it would be nice to be able to blame them for tapioca pudding. Art?
<gags>
More Briny Architecture
Nope, not marine engineering. Drowned cities, as mentioned by the BBC in all of a mere five entries. Your Humble Scribe is prettttttty sure he could have found more than five, and probably will do. In the meantime here's another snap from the Beeb's website. Art!
This is all that's left of Derwent village, when the valley it sat in was deliberately flooded to create a reservoir for the surrounding towns and cities back in 1945. The picture above hails from 2018, when hot dry weather caused the water level in Ladybower Reservoir to drop so low that the village ruins became not merely visible but accessible. Art!
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| Great if you like getting muddy in the middle of a stench |
It's probably due to re-appear thanks to our recent unseasonably sunny weather. You may visit if you like; Conrad will pass, ta very much.
From Mud To Blood
Quite the opposite of above, instead of a sea of mud, how about "The Sea Of Sand"? Rhetorical question, you were going to get it whichever way you jumped. As you should surely recall, The Doctor had come face-to-face with what he recognised as alien structures deep in the Libyan desert, if nobody else did.
Albert threw his head back to look at the ceiling
above, wondering if the Doctor meant the pillar was going to fall over.
‘This material.
The whole site,’ clarified the Doctor.
‘Your good Professor is so close to it he cannot see the problem. Cannot or will not. Can you?’
Feeling under pressure, Albert merely nodded. The Doctor leaned closer. Feeling even more pressure, Albert opened his
mouth to speak.
‘It feels all wrong here, like hidden things are
watching you all the time. All the
time. And there are the strange lights
at night,’ he blurted.
The Doctor looked at the strange black material
making up the building he stood within.
Forensic geology wasn’t his field, yet he knew this material wasn’t of
any terrestrial composition. How had
thousands of tons of alien material made their way here?
How, and, more importantly, why?
Roger, or Lieutenant Llewellyn, had decided to treat her
with some circumspection when the Doctor’s borrowed truck had vanished into the
dust and distance. Fine, she told
herself. An escort wasn't needed, she
had two eyes and two ears and an enquiring disposition, she’d get by. For the past two hours she’d been alternately
wandering around and sheltering from the sun.
Don't worry, she's not in peril.What the Sarah saw
Or - is she*?
Finally -
I was going to mock a song once heard long ago, "Come Into The Garden, Maude" because it went on about bats. However, it seems to have quite the literary pedigree - not that such would stop me from A Little Musical Critique - being written by Lord Tennyson. I think it needs a bit more careful background checking to really do it justice. Heh!
* No, she's not, I just like teasing you.
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