The Beginning of the End!

(For Hom. Sap., that is)

Remember Terminator Two!
     Your honour, I present this evidence:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-24231077

Now, we haven't quite got to the point of a computer flying these planes, but still!  It's only a matter of time.
     Obviously the only things that will prevent Skynet from taking over will be the Zombie Apocalypse or an asteroid strike.  I'm not keen on either and suspect that they lack credibility as an alternative long-term survival strategy.
     So, remember, when a hulking great cyborg smashes your door down - Conrad warned you.

"Yes he did.  This displeases us. We're going substitute one of our glam female Terminators for one of your work colleagues, Conrad.  Won't tell you which one.  Heh."

Brainnnns!
     Sorry, came over all walking dead there.  Mention of zombies does it, you know.  No, I meant my book of logic puzzles.  Did another one today, this time of the location type, and started another.  Too time-consuming to commit to!  I must resist their fatal charm.  There's all those books over there to read, and that zombie novel, and those wargame rules <cont. Page 94>

More of that Crane, again. 
     What can I say that doesn't sound like a Carry On line?  A full-perspective shot.

Fact: it would take 1,566,000 Meccano sets to create that crane

 And then I turned around and

Centre screen.  Extreme window cleaning - coming in the next Olympics

So - Tanks?

     No!  You've had a giant crane and a Terminator.  That's enough heavy metal for tonight.

Conrad - Not Too Fond Of Cars (and still hates musicals)

Manly but not Vanly
I confess I do possess a car.  It is reliable, comparatively cheap to run, has a splendid large boot ("trunk" to any of my trans-Atlantic readers), and stands over 6 feet* tall, which is handy as I am rubbish at remembering where I parked.  Also it has what I consider the sine qua non of any car - a CD player.
     That's it.  I care no more for any other thing about it.  To Conrad, a car is a metal box with a wheel at each corner.  You put the expensive sauce in and it goes from A to B.

That boot door keeps the rain off splendid.  Also you can hear my rock music from far, far away.  Though you might not want to ...

Ice-Cream News
     The Avocado and Coconut batch is chilling in the freezer as we sp - as I type.  This was one of the "chuck everything in a blender" recipes which are much easier and quicker than the custard-based ones.  Given the flavour combination, Conrad suspects he might be eating this variety on his own.

Grim News of Friday's Night Out
     Apparently the glass of 57% rum that I snaffled was actually Alex's.  The lad had been absent in the Gents for an age, so our party of curious cats passed his glass along, taking a sip, until it reached Conrad.
     "Down in one!  Down in one!" came the chorus, and Conrad, imagining the drink to be a communal one, did indeed down in one.
     Sorry, Alex.

Not to rub it in or anything ... (it was £7)

Grim News of Friday's Night Out Part Two
     I mentioned being dragged upon the dance floor at Moho by Claire.  Still worse is that her sister in mischief, Emma, took photos.  These, apparently, have been broadcast upon that monstrous aberration Facebook to the world and his wife, and both their sons and daughters and some nieces and nephews along the way.

So - Tanks?
     No!  Because Anna might end up reading this.  No tanks.  No armoured cars.  No weird ridiculous giant mechanical monsters. Nothing with guns, missiles or lasers.  No, instead we have  -

Piranhas!  Cuddly piranhas!

This will wow her, won't it?  I mean they are, er, veggie piranhas?  That go to church and foster orphan piranhas?

 * It may be an Italian car but here at BOOJUM! we stick firmly to Imperial measures, none of that metric nonsense.  Besides, it'll never catch on.

Busy BOOJUM!

Book, Nook and Cook
     Book: by which I mean that book of logic puzzles mentioned yesterday.  Got through another one today.  Hoorah.  Evidence of non-senility.
     Nook: I am now 1610 pages into "The Diamond Age" by Neal Stephenson.  The Nook pages are small but there are an awful lot of them.
     Cook: the chicken pepperonato is set up in the slow cooker crock pot ready to be started tomorrow morning.  The Leek and Potato Soup is simmering on the hob and will be finished off in about 10 minutes.  If I can muster the enthusiasm I shall make some Summer Fruits ice-cream, and will Google to see if there's any recipes that involve lychees in ice-cream.

Project Damnation Day 5,064
     I present evidence to the jury that my Upstairs Lair is being renovated with chocolate milkshake.  The shade of paint, not the drink.

I should have taken a "Before" photo of the spotty, grotty, mouldy, oldie wallpaper

There will now be a short pause whilst Conrad goes to wrestle that soup into shape.

Okay, I am back.  The soup smells appetising but is too hot to taste, yet.  Doubtless others present in this household will sample it and venture an opinion ...

The Horde
     Nope, not a film about football fans.  This is a French film about a police raid on a gangster-filled tower block that also includes fluffy rainbow rabbits. 
     No!  Sorry!  Zombies!  Zombies, yeah.  The two are easily confused.
     Anyway, I like to watch stuff whilst ironing shirts ready for the following week, and I have to iron shirts because my Still Anonymous Employer has a dress code.  Since The Horde has subtitles, it will be very distracting; it also has English dubbing but no foreign film snob would ever consider using dubbing.  O dear noe!
     Watching a French zombie film whilst ironing shirts.  That's Conrad for you.  How do you spend your Sunday evenings?

So - Tanks?
     Yes indeedy.  Gaze upon this contraption:


A Matilda Scorpion Flail

This piece of armoured oddness was intended to wallop a way through minefields.  That giant drum at the front whizzed around at high speed, and the heavy chains attached would either destroy or detonate any mines in it's path.  In action they created a huge cloud of dust and sounded like the wailing of lost souls en masse.

Baldwin's Big Boy Erect Erm Assembled
     Yes the crane construction chaps finally put together the Unfeasibly Big Crane on Friday.  I assume they'll be doing the deconstruction work over the weekend and all evidence will be gone by Monday.  Here is the final bit they added on:

Enormous yet spindly.  Kind of like Conrad ...

Got to go - neither ice-cream nor zombie novel will get done with me sitting at the keyboard!



Bibulous But Braggadocio, BOOJUM!'s Back

Ahoy mateys.  No post yesterday since I went a-drinking straight after work, didn't get back home until midnight and then went straight to bed. 

Consumption stats
     Half a French loaf, half a pound of cheese (past the sell by date so it simply had to be eaten), a peach, a tub of home-made ginger ice-cream, a tub of beef stew, a carton of bite-sized chicken Kievs and about twenty triangle butties liberated from the pub quiz on Thursday night.  Then came eight pints of beer, Jaegerbombs and a can of something fruity and alcoholic.
     This outing was in the company of work colleagues and ex-colleagues, the latter including the vivacious Milena, and Claire The Living Spirit of Mischief.  This latter person dragged elderly Conrad upon the dance floor and made - nay, forced - me to contort in dance shapes.  Thankfully no-one took photos.  I hope.

"When you have eliminated the impossible ..."*
     Feeling rather proud of my organic skull-housed computer.  I was recently given a book of several hundred logic puzzles.  The first attempt I made on them was only half-successful (locating various "battleships" on a grid).  The second, equally disappointing - although I claim the clues used were ambiguous in several cases.  Third time I got it, with one look at the solution that almost doesn't count because it simply didn't make sense.  Fourth time, one hundred per cent correct and no peeking.  Conrad ain't quick but he can see through a brick wall in time.

"I commend your devotion to the noblest of all intellectual pursuits, Conrad.  Now, can you explain what a Boojum is?"

Ikea flat pack next time!
     Wifey bought a chest of drawers on-line for a pittance.  The catch?  They lived in a farmhouse on the far side of Todmorden.  So, Degsy and I ventured there along miles and miles of one-car width blind bends at extreme angles on roads not altered since they were horse-tracks.  We ended up at a farmhouse with wonderful views, that will be utterly cut off from what vestiges of civilisation exist up there with the first snows.
     The chest of drawers barely fitted into the Qubo with a couple of centimetres to spare and I was forced to hold it back when we descended the hillside in case it slid forward and pummelled us from behind.

Our's was only slightly smaller.

So - Tanks?

The 1977 edition

   Yes indeed.  The above is a novel clearly informed by the author's real life experiences in the Desert War of North Africa.  That's a Matilda on the front - not going into action or the aerial with pennants ought to be lowered.

The Grant, a.k.a. "Egypt's Last Hope"

  Yes indeed.  The above is a novel clearly informed by the author's real life experiences in the Desert War of North Africa.  That's a Grant on the front, an American bruiser converted for desert warfare by the British.

* No, not a song lyric.  Sherlock Holmes.  "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how impossible, must be the truth".

So long chums!

Conrad and Time Management

Don't worry, this isn't some screed about business efficiency and ergonomics.  No, I'm just pleased that I got the Coconut Pyramids done and iced the Almond Fingers.  The former are cooling in the lounge, where darling daughter declared "Oooh!  Those look nice.  Do they need to set?'  "Yes," I replied - truthfully and also as a hands-off message.  The Almond Fingers will need slicing up tomorrow morning when the icing has set properly.

The Reason Why Cakes Sit In The Lounge

This compact Travelling Cat's fur also unzips for easy cleaning

 This is Jenny, the major conspirator of our two cats.  The skittish Beej, who looks perpetually startled, loiters top right.  A cake left to cool in the kitchen would probably get a fair bit of clawing, chewing and possibly weeing before these two decided that, nah, they didn't like it, the humans could keep it.  Plus it would end up with a delicate coating of cat hairs.

Disgraceful!
     Just done the weekly shop at Asda and they don't stock loose-leaf tea!
     This is - it's - well it's nothing short of criminal is what it is.  No loose-leaf, let alone loose-leaf Darjeeling.  Shocking!  Don't these people realise we built and maintained an empire based on consumption of loose-leaf tea?
     Come closer -

Loose-leaf Darjeeling.  Gaze upon it in wonder, dear reader.

Earlier this year I was forced into the desperate expedient of cutting corners off Darjeeling teabags and pouring the sweepings into a caddy because nobody stocked loose-leaf -
     <Mr Hand interposits here - "Conrad may rant about this for some time.  Let's move on, shall we?>

A Dead Shirt
     Yeah.  It was irrevocably disgraced with an indelible stain, so it had to die.

Behold!  The savagely slain shirt.

That's all for tonight, dear readers - Conrad is off to the pub quiz shortly.

Cheerio!

"First, catch your rabbit."

Self-referentialism
Anna, work colleague who is tolerant enough of Conrad's foibles to actually express an interest in this blog, asked - "How do you find it?"

Long pause.

Conrad shrugs shoulders, mumbles something about "Erm, Blogger, BOOJUM!, Google, got to dash."

The winning combination is Googling "BOOJUM!" and "comsatangel2002" - obviously!  How could it be anything else!  The lady will get an update tomorrow.  In the meantime I have to post a cuddly animal photo instead of a tank.  So - let's have some lambs.

Lamb.

No! NO!  Bloody hell, she's a vegetarian!  Conrad, get your act together!

So cute even Darth Vader would go "Ahhhh!"

 Time for an abrupt change of subject.

Baldwin's Big Boy or The View From My Window Part 2
     The crane is back.

The jib is added.  This jib arrived on it's own low-loader.

The pulley housing is added to the jib.

After counterweights have been loaded, the jib is erected

I didn't take a photo of the actual crane arm being attached.  I anticipate the assembled crane will be in action tomorrow - more photos unless our Team Manager is patrolling the floor, as I fear her only slightly less than Death itself.

This week's cake is -
     Actually a biscuit, Almond Fingers.  Long has Conrad been taunted by K-Mo, about what he should bake for the floor, which usually involved baking what K-Mo wanted.  I bearded her dragon in it's lair - actually strike that, it sounds rude.  I hurled my 1,000 Recipe Book at her and said "Pick any cake and I'll make it!" and along came Almond Fingers.  Also Coconut Pyramids.  Not sure about these.  Normally on a Thursday my time is limited by Pub Quiz, and because I intend to go out drinking with colleagues on Friday I need to do the weekly shop tomorrow, so time will be a bit squeeeezed.

Whilst Bathing At Baxters*
     I came up with a bit of doggerel.  Look, Conrad is a creature of habit and wants the office teaspoons back.  Cruel editorial staff refused to add baiting, biting, withering citric criticism of those stolen spoons to our weekly news e-mail, so in spite I created this:

I wandered, lonely as a cloud
Into the kitchen, where I'm allowed.
I recalled those balmy days of June
When we did not suffer loss of SPOON.

O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see ourselves as ithers see us.
This would not worry me, I'm not a loon
And know that I did not steal the SPOON.

I met a traveller from a foreign land.
He had a theme - I shall expand.
He spoke of wreck and woe and ruin.
An empire fallen because of no SPOON.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.
Whilst you're about it - unless you die soon  -
Repent of thy sins and thy theft of the SPOON.

I hate poetry with a passion, but the first line or two of these are from famous poems.  Did you recognise them, gentle reader?

Also, because Conrad is a creature of habit

2587 teaspoons in June

*Yes, it's another music reference.  Jefferson Airplane.  I composed this rhyme whilst walking to work, which - actually it does have alliteration.  I may revisit in future.
    

Eliminate! Eliminate!

The Great British Bake-Off
     Required family viewing in Conrad's household, in our newly-re-arranged lounge, where the television sits in the fireplace.  Quite handily, too.
     Anyway, today saw the departure of Rob, even after he managed to make a Biscuit Dalek, which made me laugh out loud (seasoned readers know of my partiality to Doctor Who).  Kimberley had a bit of an off day, Ruby displayed her characteristic nerves, and Glen surprised himself - and the judges - with his biscuit and macaroon helter-skelter.  I also learned of "Tottenham Cake" which I think I've seen before but have never baked.  Maybe next week.


A Nice Cup Of Tea Dalek to go with the Biscuit

The View From My Window

In the foreground: Small Excavator; Large Excavator.  In the background: Enormous crane; Pretty Big crane

That crane from Baldwin's is back, together with it's smaller brother that puts it together.  I assume the bigger, once assembled, is going to lift off the skeletal structure of steel beams from the top of Victoria Station.  Various artisans have been cutting the lengths apart whilst leaving the structure intact.

Where do you go to my lovely?
     As you may already know, Conrad is a creature of routine and habit.  He does not like sudden change, mobile phones or biros.  Still less does he comprehend the value, attraction and status enhancement of the common teaspoon.  I mention this because back in June a host of these heavenly objects suddenly appeared in our office kitchen.

Proof! Proof, I tell you, proof that Conrad is not merely suffering from the vapours.

Today there are none left.  None.  NONE!  Nor has the tin-opener reappeared. The ICC in the Hague has already been notified.

Farewell my lovely
     Today we bade good bye to Emma, who is going on secondment to another part of my Unidentified First-class Organisation.  I had to come up with some doggerel to embarrass her, and I did.

"There was a young lady called Emma
Who suffered from a thorny dilemma.
She couldn't say "No"
When asked "Do you "go"?'
And ended up with a randy young fella."

There was a slightly more tasteful rhyme.   How does it go?  I ripped out the page I composed it on and gave it to her - see if she can decipher Conrad's handwriting!

"We're here to say goodbye to Ryan
A gel who was almost always cryin'
I shall miss her; not for her giggle,
Nor her enthused arm-waving wiggle,
Not for tales of Nana's cod-in-butter,
Nor her sister Claire the utter nutter,
Nor her desire to eat a baby -
(Metaphorically and not with gravy)
I shall miss Emma for her skills
For I shall have to work harder and TAKE LOTS OF PILLS."

So - Tanks?

The Antonov A40.  Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  No, it's proof that Russians are barmy.

     I don't know anyone who designs armoured fighting vehicles, but I'll bet one of their design dictums is not "Hmmm.  How can we take this enormously heavy object - and make it fly!" 
     I bet they nicked all our spoons.

In case Anna reads this, let us end on an Ahhh! moment.  A lovely cuddly kitten.

Hey, a kitten is still a kitten, right?  Right?  Put down that crucifix whilst I'm talking to you!