Not A Sentence You Expected To Hear Today
Me neither until I ventured forth into the big wide world this morning, for Lo! Your Humble Scribe had to get to 'Oak Gables' surgery in Shaw to have a diabetic eye test done. The eye test itself is no great problem, it's the hanging around in the waiting room whilst the Tropicamide-laced eye drops take effect. Jodie, the paramedic doing the eye testing today, had never heard that poverty-stricken Ruffian gopniks use Tropicamide to get high, so Conrad broadened her horizons ever so slightly. The inevitable fly in the ointment was public transport to and from Shaw, which only runs once every half hour, or forty minutes when running late, as the 182 was. Art!
This is how our trans-Atlantic cousins will view 'Oak Gables Surgery' when in fact it's just a big two-tone NHS box, whose archite
ANYWAY I was struck by bus posters visible on buses as I made my way to Shaw, and several had "Paddington In Peru" present. Art!
Of course - obviously! - this set the gears a-grinding in Conrad's brain, and I began to wonder where that word 'Paddington' comes from. You know Conrad, etymology appeals to me.
Doing a little digging revealed that there may have been a person of import named 'Padda', back in Anglo-Saxon times, whose name came to be bestowed where he held sway. From there, it's the Saxon Chartularies which list this district as 'Padintun' as of 959 AD. Art!
A Saxon charter
For several centuries after Padda, the land there was owned by various churches, which leased the land out to farmers initially, and then to other slightly more grandiose artisans. All of which is worthy yet terribly dull. Eventually life evolved sufficiently to create Paddington Station, which, if Art will put down the coals for a tad -
This is the station that gave it's name to Paddington the bear, as he was discovered here by the Brown family. Let us come back to that very embodiment of all that is good and wholesome, for we have a few distaff notes present in the merry melody here. Art!
The gallows of Tyburn stood in the borough of Paddington, where many hundreds of miscreants met their end. To the ghoulish English public, those who were hung here went by the euphemism of 'doing the Paddington frisk' as in a dance, and public hangings whilst they were still a spectator sport were called 'Paddington Fair days', and not doubt the hawkers of otter's noses and rat-on-a-stick made a killing. So to speak. They were probably ticked-off in 1868 when hangings became private. Art!
Back to our beatific bear. This, lest ye be unaware, is the original volume about Paddington, published in 1958. The British loved this diminutive Peruvian import, and still do, because we're now on the third film in ten years about his exploits. The original film waaaaay back in 2014 made $100 million profit so I know some of you went to see it. That's okay, I shan't judge you, all the more so as I read a few Paddington stories back in the early Seventies myself. Art!
There was an animated television series, narrated by Michael Hordern, from back in the day, because there was a second animated television series as well, possibly leading to a marmalade-sandwich overdose. Art!
What is the appeal of this small brown ursine? Possibly because Paddington is the archetypal Innocent Abroad, whom, whilst he may inadvertently cause chaos and trail mayhem in his wake, is nevertheless pure of heart and out to do good to everyone. Art!
No, I don't know who his friends are
Michael Bentine. Another comic Peruvian import. Whom had something to do with Close Quarter Battle drills as picked up by the British Army and the S
ANYWAY as I already said, people here in the Allotment Of Eden do feel very fond of Paddington, whom has assimilated the ability to queue patiently for hours, drink tea from a china cup (not sure if he cocks a toe or not) and hob-nob with the best of 'em. Art!
Conrad unsure who is more honoured
I think we'll leave Browning's Pool for another day.
More Of The Choppers
And slicers and scrollers and other mechanical methods of destroying the integrity of a tree-trunk in order to render it more like kindling. Art!
A read designer with concerns about safety has clearly been at work here, because the rotary chopper has now been encased in a shielding cover of either robust plastic or metal. This means shredded branches don't get thrown across the landscape, even if matey has put down a tarpaulin to ensure he doesn't need to sweep up later. Nor is there a risk of any loose or dangling clothes being caught in this device, unlike the - Art!
This is what you might call the 'naked' version. Dirtier, noisier and more dangerous to danglers.
I Tell Of Telleferiche
Or, more prosaically put, a 'cable ropeway', which in Italy sees much use in the mountains to transport people up and down the sloping terrain. Erecting an aerial cable system is far quicker and cheaper than having to dig out miles and miles and miles of roads thanks to hairpin bends. Which is why it got used as a system in the First Unpleasantness. Art!
Here an empty car has been sent down to the receiving station, where a mixed team of British and Romans halt the car, load it up and then send it on it's way. Art!
Goods out Goods far out
If you were paying attention you'll have noticed that the returning car was merely a steel frame, and the troops doing the loading had a big wooden container already full, which they quickly slung onto the empty car. Efficiency, you see. Be advised that the ropeway is kept moving thanks to an engine, probably diesel, and again probably underneath that large wooden building. Again, this will be up on the Asiago front, because that's where the big hills and bigger mountains were, unlike the flat floodplains of the Piave.
Our Journey With Bernie
Nothing from "The War Illustrated" in today's blog as you've already had Italy in the First Unpleasantness, Let me check out and see if #31 is available. Wait one -
Yes it is. Art!
"The Black Cat"
I think I'd be more bothered about the red axe. You don't want witnesses when you're doing dirty deeds like this, even if it can't take the stand in court against you. Is this how Ol' Raskolnikov felt after he'd meted out a bit of axe-murderiness in "Crime And Punishment"?
This One's A Bit Of A Downer
As I am wont to do, I was having a nosy about author Jeff Carlson last night, as I'm currently reading one of his novels: "Plague War", published in 2008. What did I discover? That he waltzed off this mortal coil in 2017, thanks to lung cancer.
Aged 48, which is a short innings. That'll teach me to go snooping.
There's a quadrology he penned before departing, about the discovery of life on one the Jupiter's moons, which I may venture to explore.
Tomorrow!
Is the Fifth of November, Bonfire Night, when folks across the Allotment Of Eden congregate to risk death and mutilation thanks to readily-available explosive devices. Though I don't remember seeing any in Morrison's this year. Perhaps they've decided that kids emptying out used fireworks to create bigger bangs is bad for profits?
O and there's something going on in South Canada, too. Art!
A ritual burning of trainers, bibles, trading cards and watches?
Finally -
The natives are either stupefied or have run out of ammunition, as things have been quieter than yesteryon, which in turn was quieter than the yesteryon before that. All good news for Edna, who is not happy about what sounds like prolonged artillery barrages.
No comments:
Post a Comment