We Sink To The Depths

But In A Good Way

Bear with me, I'm making this up as I go along, even more so than usual.  Okay, a video on Youtube caught my eye because of it's title: "Forbidden Planet; The Building Of The Great Krell Machine", which then proceeded to use clips from "Things To Come" as a stand-in, which is kind of cheating in an ingenious way.  Art!

You know Conrad; any excuse to get a FP matte on display

     Here an aside.  Yes, already!  TTC is an interesting look at how the Thirties thought the future would be, and is incredibly dated, especially the aircraft.  The film was made before jet engines were a thing, so they're not to blame too much.  Art!

     Where were we?  O yes.  Conrad did a bit of Googling and came across a web forum not previously encountered, 'ALL SCI FI", which had a fantastically detailed set of expositions and schematics and diagrams about Professor Morbius' house, and how it linked up with the Krell passage to the laboratory.  They really put a lot of thought into it, which is simultaneously impressive and sad.  Allow me to pinch one of their schematics.  Art!

     The grey portion of this diagram is the entrance to the Krell laboratory.  The house - it's never made clear who constructed it nor when it was built - must have been constructed on the site of a Krell structure external and linked to the tunnel, which had long since eroded and disintegrated away.  There is an even more elaborate architectural plan showing the outlay of the house and how it abuts into the rock face.  Art!

     That kind of sets the scene.

     So, Conrad conjectured, how did the Krell create their Great Machine?  We can successfully discount any notion of them doing it themselves, because of their physiology.  Art!

CAUTION!  Do not cuddle

     Perhaps a model would make the point better.  Art!

     No arms.  Presumably they can balance on one foot and use the other as a substitute hand, or else how did they develop a civilisation without the ability to create and use tools?  But miners they are not.

     Now, let us jump tracks and abruptly switch to Morbius.  Recall, if you will, that he had his intellect permanently boosted by a factor of three, yet he was still classed as a moron by comparison to the Krell.  Still, he managed to 'tinker together' an artefact that leaves the crew of the C-57D with their jaws on the floors.  I refer, of course - obviously! - to Robbie.  Art!

     Imagine the kind of robot that the far more intelligent Krell could create.  They could put an enormous amount of time and effort into building it, because all they then need to do is instruct it to construct a duplicate of itself.  These two would then build two more, either working together to halve construction time or solo.  These four would then build another four, and so on.  Say it takes 3 months to build the first Robby, and it takes him another three months to create a duplicate.  After nine months you have four Robby's and at year's end you have eight.  By the end of the second year of Robby production you have 128.  By the end of year three you have 2,048 Robbys.  Year four brings you 32,768.  Year five ends with 524,288, and you stop at the end of year six because, with 8,388,608 Robbys, you're going to run out of room for them.  Art!

     Conrad suspects that construction of the fusion reactor complex will have been done entirely by Robbys, because it's so dangerous and risky for squishy life-forms to be in close attendance to.  Meanwhile the other seven million robots will be carrying out all the excavation and construction work in the eight thousand cubic miles of the Great Machine.  This work will be supervised and guided by the Krell in person, working on a shift basis to allow them to eat, rest and sleep (being flesh-and-blood we will consider these a given), whilst the super-Robbys carry on working 24/7/12, only needing occasional pauses for maintenance and charging.  

     You might well wonder where 4 billion tons of excavated rock would go; we can assume that some of it will be vapourised and extracted from the rockface, whilst other spoil would be heaped up outside the surface site.  Over the span of 200,000 years these will erode away into unimpressive hills and peaks.  Art!

     Of course, I could be over-thinking this ...

Feeling Flat?

One very interesting item I came across whilst looking for interesting facts about "Tora!  Tora!  Tora!" was the use of background props to simulate full-sized aircraft.  Art!

     This is a 'flat', used in the background to fool the audience into thinking that it's a real, three-dimensional B-17 bomber.  If it were parked up in the middle distance you'd never know the difference.  Er - this may mean I need to go back and see if I can spot them.  Sorry about that.  Art!

     I'll let you know.

"The Sea Of Sand"

We're going to jump narratives here, from the Libyan desert to Wasteworld, so hand on to your hat.

‘Abandon the depot?’ said Dominione, not entirely in agreement once he understood what the other officer wanted.

‘We barely held off that last attack.  The bio-vores know where we are, now, and how many of us there are.  We have only seven people, three of whom are civlians unfamiliar with firearms.  The A13 can’t be moved around.’

Sarah caught Albert looking sideways at Roger.  The young graduate seemed about to speak, then changed his mind.

Albert had intended to point out that the defenders still had the giant-flamethrower, and over a hundred Amaretto spirit bombs, and – most tellingly – an aircraft.

 

Twenty Six:  Pushed Over the Edge

From his viewpoint, his hands strung together behind the pillar by cuttingly thin strands of glass wire, the Doctor saw an enormous metal oval appear at the edge of the execution basin, moving jerkily.  In fact he was the only witness, since the audience of bio-vores were clustered along the lower tiers of the amphitheatre, all intently looking at him.

          ‘Oh, get on with it, you pompous windbag!’ he shouted at Url, who ignored the interruption and carried on with the sentence.

          Fascinated, the Doctor recognised the metal oval as an Element Sieve, big as a house, being pushed over the rim of the artificial basin.  The bio-vores who would normally be towing it were now pushing it.  And it would come racing down right at him.

     O dearie me, things not looking good for our favourite Time Lord!

The Haul

I trotted into Lesser Sodom yesteryon, as the market was on, and I got a big punnet of golden cherry tomatoes for Wonder Wifey, since those slackers at Morrisons didn't have any.  I also got uncooked beetroot for my Borscht recipe, and - tah dah! - a long turnip, which is used as a substitute for daikon in the Kim Chee I brewed up yesteryon.  And these - Art!

     Yes, five packets of sugar-free sweets <cackles and twirls moustache ends>.

Hmmmm Interesting

Your Humble Scribe is about halfway through "A Very Stable Genius", which is about the Trump administration's first two and half years in power.  Art!

     A lot of the names are familiar to me, having seen them on South Canadian Youtube clips from various news agencies.

     The overall impression of how the Trump administration functioned can be summed up in a single word: chaotically.  It's also a fascinating insight into how the White House works; did you know that an incoming administration has to fill 4,000 positions?  That takes a lot of work.  The outgoing Obama administration offered to help show the Trumpers the routine and the ropes.  Their response? (bearing in mind they had exactly 0% experience!) "Nah, we're good."
     There was something on the BBC News website about Citizen Trump, can't think what it could possibly be ...

Finally -

A very wet day today, full of that fine drizzle that depresses the world.  Thankfully our daily constitutional occurred when it had slackened off.  

     ANYWAY time to descend to the kitchen and get a shot of that Kim Chee happily fermenting in the cupboard, and then lunch.

Pip pip!

J-Dog And The Webb

I Made That One Up Myself

Aptly enough, whilst walking - more accurately, paddling - Edna this morning.  Of course - obviously! - even in such dismal weather there were lots of inconsiderate dog owners walking their beasts.  Conrad is musing over taking a constitutional down into Lesser Sodom this afternoon, as it's market day and I could do with some raw beetroots - got a Borshcht recipe copied down, doncha know.

     You may, if you are as ancient as Conrad, have your memory bestirred by today's title, wondering where you'd heard it before.  Art!

     Briefly put, the series was about a band of talking dogs (REFUGEES FROM NARNIA!) - er- quite - who run a garage ('auto-shop' for our South Canadian readers) and are continually on the lookout for the city dog-catcher and Seymour, an evil cat.  Which is kind of baked into cats.  Art!

     ANYWAY of course this is nothing to do with the James Webb Space Telescope - I've already Remote Nuclear Detonated those who were accusing me of a spelling mistake - which is the subject of today's Intro.

     We have mentioned this remarkable piece of kit before, though not for a while, so I shall explicate a little further.  JWST came in well behind schedule and over budget, for it was a fearfully complex piece of machinery.  The intent was to put into cis-lunar orbit a telescope far larger and more sophisticated than the humble Hubble.  Art!

     As you can see, Hubble's primary mirror was actually quite small; what made a difference was being out of the Earth's atmosphere.  Moreover, Hubbs was in such a low orbit that it could be maintained and updated by Shuttle.  The monstrous JWST was far further out in terms of orbit and there was no prospect of being able to fix anything.  It had to work first time, and 'work' involved a long series of activation and deployment routines.

     SPOILER: it worked.  Art!

     I've already put up photos taken by both telescopes to highlight how much better those of J-Dog are.  Why resurrect this device?  

James Webb telescope detects dust storm on distant world

     Behold an artist's impression of VHS 1256b.  Art!

40 light years distant

     This is a type of gas-giant known as a 'Super-Jupiter', being about 15 times larger than Jupiter, which means it's pretty colossal.  The star it orbits is a binary, which our artist has managed quite subtly in the above picture, and VHS is in a very distant orbit - 15 billion miles from the twin suns.  That brown colouration is not guesswork or licence; thanks to J-Dogs ability to break down and analyse the composition of the atmosphere, we know it to be made up of silicates in that shade.  The upper reaches are where the very finest particles ascend to, and there will be layers of gradually increasing size down towards the planet's core.  The presence of atmospheric carbon dioxide and methane implies that the lower depths are explosively dynamic, hence the storms.

     Given this acuity, it's quite possible J-Dog will one day analyse an atmosphere and find both liquid water and oxygen, two of the pre-requisites for life.  Art!

Full-scale model with puny humans for scale

     There's J-Dog, surrounded by a crowd of adoring dweebs.

Manglement, Delicious Manglement

You should surely recall 'Sally', the malicious and incompetent manager from yesteryon's tale of woe, who cost her parent company £2,000,000 thanks to her ignorance*.

     One of the commenters had another 'Sally' tale of woe.  He knew a programmer at a business that required biannual reports made to various government agencies, which The Programmer did.  Sally in this case simply had no idea what TP did nor how he did it, thus deeming him surplus to requirements.

     Ooops.  Art!

     Six months later the biannual report was due.  Turns out nobody in the business knew how to do the report, because there were very, very specific criteria from the government agencies involved about what info they needed and in what format.  Panicking, the business were offering £150,000 for anyone willing to generate and certify the data required, with just one catch: they had to do it in less than 10 days.

     Ooops again.

     Given this ridiculously tight schedule and potential liability, unsurprisingly, nobody took them up.  TP at this point is probably laughing his head off whilst consuming buckets of popcorn.

     The report never got submitted.

     60% of their business immediately vanished.

     Company went bust shortly thereafter.

     No mention of what happened to Sally though I don't think she could ever put that business down as a reference.  Was killing the business for the sake of saving £40,000 worth it?  Art!

1) Don't employ Sally's  2)  Don't employ Sally's  3)   Don't employ Sally's

More-a Of 'Tora!'

Yes, there's more to come, you lucky things!  Okay, one thing the producers were was canny with footage, because this was a verrrrry expensive film for it's day: £15,000,000.  Thus if you can exploit footage, all the better.

     So, they had five flying B-17s hired for the production, who were due to fly in and then scatter as the Japanese attacked Pearl.  Art!

     Those are real, full-sized B-17s, not radio-controlled models.

     Inevitably, for aircraft over 25 years old, the gremlins struck and a bomber was stuck with only one of the two main landing gear coming down.  Art!

Again, a real aircraft

     It made a crash-landing, and the cameras kept a-rolling.  Art!

     Conrad wondered if the producers had spliced in film of a real, wartime crash but no: this was done on location for real.  Art!

     The pilot did an exceptional job.  Not only was nobody injured, the plane wasn't that badly damaged.  Crew probably needed a change of underwear.

"The Sea Of Sand"

Things are looking a bit grim for Sarah and the chaps at Mersa Martuba.

‘That particular vehicle, however, has been constructed with layers of metal mesh underneath the surface, interleaved in the glass.  Our opponents learn quickly.  At a guess, I would say that the recycled Sahariana’s are now being used to armour these things.’  Seeing a lack of comprehension, Roger carried on.  ‘They use metal to strengthen the glass that makes up their main construction material.’

‘What are you implying?’ asked the Professor.

‘That they’ll be back, and ready to attack us.  That mortar weapon firing glass shrapnel – I think that’s how they killed the Lysander pilot.  I bet there are other weapons come through from their arsenals, too.’

Sarah remained silent.  Her worry focussed on the Doctor, who had been gone far too long for comfort.  He might very well have to creep around secretly, avoiding bio-vores, but he’d been gone far too long.  Despite the heat, she shivered.

‘Somebody walk over your grave?’ asked Albert, with all the tact of a tank.  Professor Templeman scowled at the graduate, who blushed after realising what he’d said.

‘I want us to get ready to leave the depot, and move back to the wadi.  Use the Bedford – oh, the clutch has gone.  Stow food and water in the Bedford, then tow it with a Sahariana.  We take one of the Vickers guns in the emplacement, for protection.’

     You should have put it forward as a 'tactical retreat', old chap.

You What?

You learn something new every day.  Today Conrad learned that Columbian drug cartel boss Pablo Escobar imported some hippos to frolic around his estate back in the 1980s.

     Thanks to neglect after his death, several escaped and bred in the wild.  Art!

     There are now 150 of them, and they are bad for the environment, and also any Columbians who come across them in the water.  They may look fat and jolly, but they kill an awful lot of Africans every year, thanks to being surprisingly quick in and out of the water and having very large tusks.  Art!

     So Columbia is looking to send 70 of them to sanctuaries overseas, which will cost circa £2.5 million.  Thank you Pablo Escobarmy.

Finally -

The monsoon rains have paused, at least for a while.  Time for a scrape and a scrap (i.e. lunch) and a possible amble into Lesser Sodom.  What ho!

*  Yes she was fired. 

STOP PRESS! Putin Annexes Narnia!

Only Now Can It Be Told -

In a statement made on state-controlled television at 07:35 this morning, Kremlin military spokesman for the Defence Ministry, Igor Konashenkov, stated that Russia had officially annexed the 'decadent and anarchy-ridden' state of Narnia, which is 'noted for it's extensive natural resources.' 

"Here we see the proto-capitalist feudal exploiters themselves"

President Putin, in a filmed insert, described the country as a 'Tool of Western imperialism', 'A boil on the borders of Holy Mother Russia,' and 'Rich in natural resources,'.

"No, no, no - it's water, I tell you.  Water!"

      Dmitry Peskov, senior Press Secretary, said that the Russian mission in Narnia was to overthrow the hereditary reign of unelected aristocrats who exploited the peasantry, and to establish a modern-nation state, as well as to extinguish millennia of superstition and pagan idolatry, and that the country's vast natural resources would exploited in a modern techno-industrial manner.

     It is reported that units of the VDV and Naval Marine Infantry have already captured the capital of Cair Paravel and mobile columns are already heading further inland.

     The occupation authorities have issued a list of guidelines for natives, as follows:

i)  All animals are edible.

ii)  Talking animals will be sent to re-education pens to learn Russian.

iii)  English is forbidden as a spoken or written language as it comes from an insignificant little island that is also Satan In National Form.

These transgressors will be punished severely

iv)  Talking bear cubs will be re-located in order to more closely accord with Russian language.

v)  Lions are forbidden.

BANNED

vi)  A binding, permanent, non-aggression pact is to be signed with the sovereign nation-state of Calormen.

Note lack of defensible borders

vii)  ALL mythical creatures are actually NATO spies and will be incarcerated, bar centaurs who can serve as draught animals, hauling Russian supplies or guns.

viii)  Magic is forbidden.

NOT PERMITTED

ix)  Witches are forbidden UNLESS operating as auxiliaries of Rosgvardia with signed certification from the local FSB office.

x)  Talking animals masquerading as dumb animals will be treated as spies working for MI6 and the CIA, on penalty of barbequeing.

xi)  The Stone Table will be re-located to a site in Moscow city centre as a triumphal display.

Obviously, this will require substantial foundation-work*

xii)  Cyrillic will become the official alphabet of Narnia, with compulsory education in all academic institutions, with a list of handy phrases hung on all government buildings, public houses, market squares and windmills.

xiii)  The twenty-four hour clock system will be adopted.

ixv)  Cair Paravel will be under curfew from 23:00 to 05:00.

xv)  Washtubs and outhouses are considered to be legitimate spoils of war and citizens are required to allow confiscation.

Inherently valuable

xvi)  Mention of a resistance terrorist movement operating in the Ettinmoors is punishable by barbequing or imprisonment, depending on species and the state of rations.

     Russian television presenter Vladimir Solovyov expressed gratitude that Russia had managed to pre-empt NATO and the West and the EU and Japan and South Korea and Australia and New Zealand in protecting Narnia's 'wide range of natural resources' from being plundered and despoiled.

"I can now replace my Italian villa with a Narnian one!"

     Reports that the armed forces of Middle Earth are on high alert cannot be confirmed.

Grasping Groynes

First of all, WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS!  Secondly, learn to spell.  Conrad is talking about beach defences, not crotches.  Art!

     There's a whatever the collective noun for a load of groynes is.  The word comes from the Old French 'Groign', meaning 'snout'.

     Conrad has long known that they are there as a beach defence to prevent erosion, and always wondered why they were placed perpendicular to the beaches.  Surely they ought to be along the beach axis?

     Well, no.  You see, coastal erosion tends to take place parallel to the beachfront, moving sands along the coast.  Art!

     As you can see from the diagram above, the groynes intercept the sand carried by the current and prevent it from being carried away.

I'm Being A Borer -

About "Tora! Tora! Tora!".  Sorry, but there it is.  I took lots of photographs so you're going to get the benefit of all of them, there's just no getting around it.  Art!

     This chap, blasting away with a machine gun, is based on a real person and real events.  Say hello to Chief Ordnanceman John Finn.  During the rest of the film, when it cuts back to him he's more dishevelled each time, because in real life Finn was injured - 21 times.  He didn't stop shooting until the attack was over, two hours later, downing one plane and winning himself the Medal of Honour, an award not given away in cereal packets.

     The gun he's firing is a 0.50 Browning; there's an ammunition box with the info printed onto it, which isn't quite legible here.  He's already taken belts of ammo out of the can, ready to load.  The gun itself is an anti-aircraft version of the usual gun, with special sights, given a water jacket to allow sustained firing, and it's been tuned up to about 600 r.p.m. instead of the usual 450.

     It's not a speaking part and he's not given any credits, but it shows how determined the producers were to be accurate.  Art!

Indestructible Captain Finn

Blue For You

As you should surely know, Conrad got a 'Ginfusion' bottle in February, and had a go at infusing gin with Orange And Cardamoms.  It worked, although the orange tended to drown out the cardamoms, which wasn't a bad thing, since they hinted more of medicine than spices.  Art!

     Meet the blueberry iteration.  Conrad admits he cheated a bit here and impaled a few berries with a skewer to get the blue colouration.  We shall have to leave it for at least a week to see how it turns out.  Chin chin!

"The Sea Of Sand"

Our gallant band of human survivors are licking their wounds and assessing the situation, and it doesn't look very inspiring.

Roger looked at his fellow survivors and soldiers.  Dusty, pale-faced, salt-encrusted and unutterably weary.  Not counting Davey, in even worse condition than the rest of them.  Torrevechio had picked up soot and smoke from the flamthrower, leaving only his goggle-covered eyes clean in a filthy face.

How unfair was all this! The lieutenant silently snarled.  Corporal Mickleborough, Captain Dobie, all the other dead garrison soldiers.  They were members of the RASC, not men who did the fighting.  They supplied the men who did the fighting.  Fighting was down to other people, other folk who put their lives on the line, not the pen-pushing, crate-carrying men of the RASC.

‘As I see it,’ he began,  ‘We are not in a good position.  There are only eight of us left alive, and only seven effectives.  Whilst we repelled the last enemy attack, I don’t think we can survive another.’

‘You don’t know another attack will come,’ stated Professor Templeman with considerable emphasis.  ‘You aren’t gifted with a crystal ball.’

‘No.  I don’t know.  But I do have a very well-informed speculative sense.’

Roger pointed at the wreck of the knocked-out bio-vore vehicle.

‘I’ve been over to look at that monstrous chariot.  The other ones that got hit by armour-piercing shot flew apart in a cloud of fragments.  That one remained intact, as you can see.’

Silence settled whilst the audience waited for an explanation.

     The bio-vores are aliens, not stupid.

Finally -

Tonight is the night of the big shop, and I need to sort out a recipe for Ukrainian borshcht, so that's it for today!

*  Bids and tenders to the Ministry Of Internal affairs

I Was Going To Title This -

"She Was Only A Coal Miner's Daughter"

But then realised that there's a genuine film going by close to the same title, as well as perhaps a country music album (which I couldn't be bothered looking up), so in the interests of clarity we didn't go with that.  Art!

Properly apostrophised

     Then I was unsure what the follow-on from the title would be, because what perks or privileges does one accrue as the daughter of a coal miner?  Do miners get free coal?  Or would we need to bring in an awareness of silicosis as an occupational hazard?  Roof collapse?  Flooding?  Flammable gas?  

     Here an aside.  There are such things as mine refuge chambers, which, if we can prod Art into sentience -

     These things are for emergency accommodation, principally in mines, and are air- and water-tight, with an atmospheric scrubbing system to keep the air breathable, water, rations and an independent power supply.

     ANYWAY I thought we'd lead with another story about malicious manglement, because everyone loves a story where idiot managers prove they were promoted several levels above their ability or competency.

     Original Poster worked for a health organisation, where one of his friends, Ted, was responsible for health analytics, and for notifying department heads of appropriate monthly, quarterly and annual grants and funding based on his accumulated data.  Art!

     Enter Sally.  Sally takes an instant hatred of Ted, because she's a bottomhole.  She immediately imposes a new rule: all of Ted's data goes to her, alone, and she will deal with it, nobody else gets a look in.

     The along comes a planned restructure at Health Organisation Incorporate (because upper management have to justify their jobs and salaries) where there are going to be lots of redundancies.  Sally calls Ted in for 'a little chat' and informs him that she's not opened any of his data reports for the past year, so he's clearly useless and is going to be fired - O sorry, 'be made redundant'.

     Cue Malicious Compliance.  Ted, with union backing, states that he won't contest his firing redundancy as long as he gets three months sick pay before his severance, which is agreed.  Health Org. Inc. agrees, BUT state he has to wipe all his records due to data protection issues and patient confidentiality.  IT arrange to delete all his files and then smash his hard drive with a hammer, just to be certain.  Art!

     They also go through HOI's e-mails and delete all of Ted's accumulated e-mails.  He is officially ghosted.

     Ted, however, was not daft.  He'd already made a copy of all his files, which he handed over to HOI's in-house audit and compliance staff.  On his last day Sally rings, saying that there's a £2 million gap in accounts according to the auditors, and could he help?

     "Sure!" says Ted.  "Ring me when I get into work tomorrow," and then rides off into the sunset, never to be seen at HOI again.

     Ooops.

     Sally was unable to find any of Ted's data, and he ignored her phone calls as he was on sick leave.  The auditors calculated that Sally's hatred of Ted, neglect and incompetence had cost HOI £2.5 million.

     Sally was promptly fired under the polite-ism 'left to look for new opportunities'.

Ted, busy not giving a fig

     She's definitely not going to be able to put HOI down as a reference.

"Tora!  Tora!  Tora!"

You know Conrad, he's never happier than when splitting hairs and being a pedant of the very best kind.  Well, I've rewatched the above film, and then went back to get pictorial evidence of some of the stuntwork involved, because parts of it seemed exceedingly dangerous.  I have about fifteen photos so this will have to be spread across several blogs, otherwise it will be the whole thing and then some.  Art!

     These aircraft are all fibreglass mock-ups, a few of which have been rigged with explosives to simulate getting blown up.  Any that move have been given a small engine to turn the propeller but are not remotely capable of flying, being either pushed by actors or via remote-control cable to the brakes.  Art!

     Take a look at this plane.  Again, it's a fibreglass mock-up with cables controlling it's movement, and a dummy in the cockpit.  It carries an explosive charge to simulate being blown up by strafing Japanese planes.

     Here's where things go wrong.  The Japanese plane doing the pretend strafe came in too low, and downdraft from the propeller wash caused the mock-up's starboard wing to lift.  Instead of rolling down the runway it swerved into the parked P-40s as seen above.  That stuntman running for his life is really running for his life.

     The pyrotechnics crew detonated the charge in the errant P-40 when they realised it had gone astray, and once again those stuntmen aren't faking it.  Fortunately it didn't hit the P-40s loaded with high explosive for a later destruction scene, or there might have been even greater mayhem.

     That's stuntman Ray Picerni lying in front of the burning wreckage, and it seems the only thing that stopped him being killed was the heavy industrial fire-extinguisher halting the wreckage.

     You can get your boots, wellingtons and flip-flops that we'll be coming back to this!

A Rather Less Frenetic Moment

Your Humble Scribe made Bigos for the first time in about six months, as my recent cooking has all been Korean or Ukrainian.  I managed to lose the original hand-written recipe, so had to copy another one down.  Nor could I get sauerkraut at the Co-Op or Lidl, so Conrad was forced to use a whole shredded cabbage.  O well.  Art!

     Just what you need on a cold winter's day like today.

"The Sea Of Sand"

The gallant band of human survivors at Mersa Martuba is getting smaller all the time.

Dominione asked where Albert and the Professor were?  He hadn’t seen them for a long time.  Were they casualties?

Nowhere near casualties, it transpired.  Albert had been practicing taxiing in the Lysander beyond the supply depot’s western perimeter, with the Professor looking on to indicate and rate his performance in terms of thumbs up, thumbs down or thumbs horizontal.

‘I think I’ve got the hang of it,’ exclaimed an excited and dusty Albert, climbing down from the cockpit and pushing a pair of goggles atop his head.  Sarah and Dominione looked on with less enthusiasm that the Professor, who scowled hugely at their lack of support.

‘We’re now down to eight people,’ said Sarah.  ‘Corporal Mickleborough died five minutes ago.’

‘Died!  What happened?’ asked Albert.  The noise and dust created by the unevenly running aircraft engine meant he missed the whole battle on the eastern edge of the depot.  ‘I see.  I see.  Sorry I missed helping,’ he said in a very muted voice after hearing the explanation.

‘We need to all be together,’ declared Dominione.  ‘For a briefing.’

Sarah translated and the two archaeologists swapped glances, only to agree.

     That Lysander is definitely an example of Chekhov's gun

Rubs Hands And Cackles

We have mentioned the Challenger 2 MBT here on a few occasions.  It is a mighty mobile metal monster that tips the scales at 75 tons in battle.  It can outrange, out-sense and outgun any Sinister or Ruffian tank on the battlefield.  Art!

     We've also occasionally mentioned the Teuton's Leopard 2, which is just as formidable as the Chally but significantly easier to maintain and supply than the Challenger 2 because so many European nations have them.  Art!

     And these battlewagons are now in Ukraine, along with 40 Teuton Marder Infantry Fighting Vehicles.  Against which the Ruffians are deploying - Art!

     Don't laugh, it might come true.  They're already using howitzers from the Second Unpleasantness in Ukraine.  Hmmmmm it definitely looks as if there is 'demilitarisation' taking place except not where Bloaty Gas Tout fondly imagined it would.