Blame Edna
And the weather. It was so nice this afternoon that I couldn't think of a reason - or excuse - not to take the Champ Of Scamp for a trot, and O My there was no need for a coat, as I discovered when the sweats broke out.
To what do I refer? O I thought you'd never ask - the Thinking Time, of course - obviously! - that taking her for a walk entails. Since the weather was as good as high summer, Your Humble Scribe didn't spend the whole time cursing rain and wind, nor looking balefully at the heavens. Art!
This, gentle reader, is the Atlas ICBM, the first South Canadian Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile, which was rather a rush job, to be honest. Conrad is unsure why the traffic light above is on red - any sensible person would not only have stopped but be driving rapidly in the other direction.
One reason for the rush was that the Sinisters were developing their own ICBM, resulting in 11 Atlas launches that went awry thanks to the pressure to get a workable giant flying mallet. Eventually, after a good 2 years of identifying and resolving problems, Atlas went into service in 1959, so in that period just before "On Thermonuclear War" was published. They would have constituted part of South Canada's nuclear arsenal at the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, another point of interest for Conrad. Art!
 |
| "The Atlas coyly emerges into daylight from it's subterranean nest" |
In terms of performance, it had a range of just over 8,500 miles, and a CEP of just over two miles, which translates into normie-speak as not very accurate, so it would have been used to hit large immobile targets like airports or harbours*. Art!
This is Atlas, one of the Titans, who was punished for revolting and waging war against the Supreme Leader,
Here you see the origin of the term 'Atlas' as used for a book detailing maps of the world, because Mercator used an image of Atlas (if a rather wimpy one) on the cover of his book of maps. Connrad got rid of his 'Geographica Atlas' last year because it weighed about half-a-stone and you can look up equivalent stuff on teh Interwewbz anyway. Art!
This proves my point. The map here shows the Atlas Mountains, as present in Morocco and Algeria. You may not associate snowy mountain peaks with the lands of the Maghreb, but there it is. Art!
A mountain range. Supposedly, the Atlantic Ocean takes it's name from these peaks, whoopee for it. Art!
There is also this work, which I have never read and also have no inclination to remedy this defect. If Atlas gets all twitchy and repulsive, what's going to happen to the heavens? Destruction of the Universe, I suppose.
O hang on, I remember hearing a rather satirical description of a film version of the novel, by "The Flop House", which involved lots of trains but no planes, nor do I think there was anything about computers. So, no, there is no global apocalypse, just a lot of big businessmen seeking to establish a cult of Galt Whom We Exult.
Or something. Perhaps it was "Exalt"?
Hmmmm seems to be a First Person Shoot-'em-up. Well, inflicting enormous damage is where we came in ...
Excuse me, I'm going to go have a look at the cupboard full of reference works, because there's a couple of file folders in there I don't recognise and can't reach without the ladders. Do hang on!
'Pier Runners': A Serious Business
Yesteryon we were indulging in a little schadenfreude about the tourists who either cut it very very fine in returning to a cruise ship from an excursion, or who literally miss the boat. Art!
These half-dozen people are quite out of luck. As you can see from the bow or stern lines, the ship has now moved away from the quayside and is preparing to cast off lines. There is 0% of it mooring back to allow these laties to board, no matter how much they may wave their arms. Art!
"Hey, stop!"
The triumph of hope o'er reality. This chap is so late that the ship is now leaving the harbour and has long departed the quayside, and one wonders whom he thinks is going to be watching him, and how they can pick him up? Art!
The person doing the video dials back on zoom, showing just how far away the ship really is and how it so very isn't turning back. Matey now has to find his way to the ship's next port of call or even the terminal port, at his own expense.
There are several reasons why a ship won't wait for absent passengers, which of course - obviously! - I will drag out over several items.
One premier point is that the passengers went off on their own, NOT on a cruise-arranged excursion, because the ship will wait for those it is responsible for. Get stuck in traffic, bad weather, a flock of sheep, mechanical breakdown and the ship will wait. Take the cheaper option and you're on your own. Art!
Typical shipical
Second point is that this ship, weighing in at almost 170,000 tons, is a monstrous mass of metal that requires huge engines burning hundreds of tons of fuel to shift it around. Thinking that it can stop on a fifty-pence piece, then go into reverse or, more likely, execute a 360ยบ turn, and do it in mere seconds is to misunderstand the laws of physics on a level that would make Scotty wince.
N.G.T.H. Not Going To Happen.
A Slightly Lighter Moment
One of the consequences of working from home is that one does not need to be especially spick or span, which is why Conrad hasn't had a haircut in many months. I have noticed the thatch taking a lot longer to dry after a shower than it used to, and it's been catching in my shirt collars. So, screwing my courage to the sticking place, I went off to Peppi's in Chadderton this morning. Art!
As you can see, still jowly and scowly, just not as higgledy-piggledy-hairy.
"City In The Sky"
Our intrepid trio are cautiously moving around in the deserted, derelict and decrepitly dangerous city of Adelaide, which has clearly been abandoned for decades.
Ace recognised the signs of excitement –
he rolled the “r” in “forth” like a Shakespearean ham. Her eyes also spotted one of the smoke
columns mentioned minutes earlier, streaming upwards like a signal, atop one of
the less-battered and smaller buildings.
She pointed, and the Doctor gave her a nod of acknowledgement.
They walked west from the Botanic Gardens, along roads and paths long
gone to seed, where vibrant plant life broke the surfaces into a jigsaw of
cracked paving flags or disintegrated metalling. Coming to a major intersection where toppled
streetlights lay like fallen trees, the Doctor spotted an absence where there
ought to be a presence.
‘Look at this,’ he said, pointing to a narrow excavation of a
hands-breadth width in the crumbling roadway, which ran dead straight north and
south as far as they could see. ‘And
those,’ pointing to a line of streetlights that now lay on the ground, entwined
and enmeshed with weeds.
‘World’s smallest trench?’ guessed Ace, to an amused snort.
‘Hardly! No, Ace. This was once a tramway and those
streetlights are actually power pylons.
At a point in the not so recent past, the rails and cables were all
removed and taken away.’
Canny Adelaidians, if that's what they're called.
I KEEP TELLING YOU! I KEEP TELLING YOU!
Conrad, after considerable pondering (about three seconds) has decided that South Canada really pines to be part of the Commonwealth and deeply regrets having that spat in 1777, because they don't have a monarchy. This is an absence and omission they feel very very deeply, as exemplified by "The Daily Beast", who cannot stop bleating about British Royalty. Art!
Conrad wouldn't know either of them if he fell over them, although they would certainly know Your Humble Scribe at that point, because I am large and weighty.
Finally -
One of those reference folders was for a clutch of computer games I've not had for decades. One for the bin. O and today I gave 6 books to the charity shop in Chadderton, keeping only one back, for reasons.
* And, whisper it who dares, cities.
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