Pole Position!

Kapow From Krakow
That's good, isn't it?  Or at least not bad.  Although it does only work with the English pronunciation, which is "-ow" instead of "-off".
     Okay, Slavic pronunciation lesson over, let's get with the illustration of my painful title today.  

Hello Poland!

Rzeczpospolita Polska if you want to be precise about it.  Look at all those nice ladies and gentlemen who now know what life in the UK is like, or at least what goes on in the head of your humble scribe.  The two are not mutually exclusive, after all.

Boczek
This is the Polish for "Bacon", and is what Conrad got in his shopping of Wednesday, and allow me to recycle an older photo.

The boczek balanced above the gherkins

     Now, Conrad is no expert on boczek so when he sliced it apart he found a couple of immensely hard globules in it, reminiscent of bits of bone.  Were they supposed to be there?  Was Anglo-Polish trade imperilled by sabotaged bacon?  Did sinister Slav vendors of smoked pigmeat intend for Conrad to break his teeth?
     All very paranoid.  And wrong!  Conrad enquired of Pete, whose fiancee is Polish, and was informed that it needs to be baked.
     Right.  Better get that oven fired up.

Made Up Of Awww!
As you know Conrad is a flinty-hearted swine, made up of neutronium and bile for the most part, leavened with a little fuming nitric acid and Scotch Bonnet Peppers.
     However, he does unbend a bit every so often, and is mightily impressed with the following:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDG2cwsndhk

This is Teddy Bear, the somewhat-confusingly named porcupine.  If you think of porpcupines as simply a set of arrows attached to a badger, then this will surprise you, as Teddy Bear practically speaks Human.  Very appealing.

Teddy Bear: squeaking, squawking, eating and talking.

Have You Heard? Bird Is The Word
Quite what that particular word means is still up for debate.  Anyway, were the birds a-chirping in the treetops this morning?  Hopping excitedly from branch to branch, exchanging gossip and banter in passing?
     Who knows.  I certainly don't as I was quite happy to lie there in bed until 10:30 a.m., having set my alarm for 8:30 so I could ignore it.  But you can picture the scene ...

BLACKBIRD:  GOOD Morning!
THRUSH: Good MORNING!
BB:  I fear we must make our own entertainment this morning.
T:  Yes, I notice Fatty's not here.  Is he working late?
BB: He's not working at all.
T:  Ha!  How can they tell the difference?
BB:  Oh, not bad, not bad.
T: I suppose if he's face-down on the keyboard, snoring - 
BB: - too much gin and vermouth the night before!
STARLING: Crikey - him again!  I were looking in the bathroom window -

 - the bus didn't come due to it being Saturday morning but good taste prevails.

The Days Pass By
But of course they do, otherwise we'd be stuck in the Present and we'd never reach the Future and the Past would stay the same, absolutely and comparatively.
     Being a bit more focussed and down-to-earth, the passage of days means that my diary is running out.

     This is the culprit.  Conrad, being of peculiar and probably unsound mind, had not noticed until yesterday and now has a single day to resolve matters.
     Conrad - a dab hand with the Browning M2 Heavy Machine Gun, graduated from the Sorbonne and with ten years staff experience at Downing Street - yet unable to realise that a diary expires after 365 days.

Sherlock
Conrad is not going to detail the whole programme that ran last night, as it was 90 minutes long.  I did take notes, quite a few, and noticed that Steven Moffat has his fingers in this as well as Doctor Who, in addition to Mark Gatiss, who is also wont to stick his nose into Doctor Who as well.  BBC networking, eh?
     It was all very puzzling.  It started in the present, then went back to 1895 for a long time, then back to the present, then back to 1895, then the present, then the Reichenbach falls, then the present then 1895.

Conrad: puzzled.
Perhaps a bit ominous, too.

     One might say it was very meta, in that sense.  Still very confusing.  It starts with a suicide, except it's not, and it's not clear if it was real or not.  There are several murders, which are excused away by us being told what utter swines the victims were, although given that this is after the event by a bunch of murderous conspirators, one feels a lack of conviction.  
     There was some amusing stuff in passing - Mrs Hudson complaining about her being a literary device, Mary Watson and her domestic staff also complaining.  The Doctor mistaking "Paranoia" for a Serbian secret society.  Oh, and Moriarty getting kicked off the Falls with a despairing shriek.


Now, SPOILERS!







Let there be no mistakes, SPOILERS!!





Sorry.


It was all explained away as a monstrous conspiracy of women in order to - er - to get really important things - like - er - a credit in The Strand magazine?  Shorter working hours?  Better quality cream cakes?
     I think the hint was that it was to earn the vote for women.  Given that this didn't happen until after the First Unpleasantness (and partly because of it), a delay of 23 years, one can dismiss this conspiracy as being as effectively run as First Bus.

My Life As A Dog

Not Literally
After all, I wouldn't be able to type then, would I?
     Or - maybe I would, if I were trained to hold a bamboo skewer in my mouth in order to hit one key at a time (in which case this photo finally makes sense):

Woof.  Also, Arf.

     "Blimey!" I can hear you retort.  "We thought the senile old crackpot had given up drink?  This sounds like he's been at the cooking sherry since daybreak."
     Yes, THANK YOU for your support of my sobriety.  I bring this title and topic up because of a bizarre screenshot I discovered from several days ago, viz:

    Before I explain the background to this, I'm going to make a pot of tea.  Back in a minute - 
 - actually rather more than a minute, got caught up with food prep and dish-washing.  Where was I?  O yes Conradog.
     Me, as a pug.
     Funny, I always pictured me as a canine along the lines of either a lovable old Labrador, big fat and happy - until you steal his chew-toy in which case he becomes a howling ball of rabid fury - or an Alsatian-husky mix, silent and inscrutable but with Very Big Teeth.

The JAGged Edge
Ah, there you go, Conrad, unable to resist a pun.
     If you are familiar with the past of this blog, then you know that one of Conrad's guilty pleasures is the television series "NCIS", and because it is 13 years old then some of you out there are watching it, too*.
     However, I bet you don't know how it evolved, do you?  Conrad does.
     "Gosh!  the production life of an obscure South Canadian television series.  We are underwhelmed," I hear you say, and I hear you shifting and shuffling.
     SIT BACK DOWN!  

Close enough

     A recent practice in South Canadian television series is to introduce a spin-off in the parent series.  "JAG" was, and still is for all I know, a successful prime-time series about the "Judge Advocate General"'s office, in other words lawyers in the US Army (and Air Force?  Dunno.  Not really bothered).  Yeah, yeah, another variation on the legal drama that our trans-Atlantic cousins devour.  NCIS came about as a result of two spin-off episodes of JAG.

The Lemonade I Made
As you surely know by now, your gifted author is a swine for guzzling lemonade and fizzy drinks in general, and thanks to his habit of reading the ingredients label, is aware that even at best in the highest quality Cloudy Lemonade available, the % of real lemon is very low.  Not even 5%.
     So, behold!

     This is merely water, sugar and three lemons, with a bit of blending and squeezing.  I did use a 50cl bottle of sparkling water to add a bit of fizz, although this had all but gone by this afternoon.  I suspect you'd need to consume it shortly after bottling to enjoy the carbon dioxide hit.

Conrad: New Year Predictions
Here's one I made earlier: "Ah the morning lie-in! Now for ice cream, giant pot of tea and the cat sitting on my books"
     Proof that I know what I'm blathering on about:

Jenny!  You cow!

     I wonder.  Is she trying to tell me something?  
     "I think your taste in literature is that of an affected pseud.  Plus, you have horrid scratchy handwriting."
     Ah what the heck.  I'm not worried.

Conrad Is Worried
I don't care if I contradict myself.  Whose blog is it?  Precisely.  What are reason and logic?  Exactly: surplus to requirements.
     When I say "I'm worried" I don't refer to my taste in music.  Apparently one of the risks of getting old is "Val Doonican** Syndrome", where one manifests a taste for crooners and cardigans.

    Here are but some of the CD's thoughtfully put aside for our road trip to Robin Hood's Bay***.  Not a rocking chair in sight.
     No, I mean I am worried about my propensity for reading detective fiction.  I started off on the most hard-boiled of hard-boiled, James Ellroy, then via Christopher Fowler and his essence of London novels and finally I've ended up watching Poirot.  And, to my shame, Miss Marple.
     I can see where this is going to end, back where I began at age 10: The Hardy Boys.

Woof Woof^!

* I like to spread the blame around.
** A thoroughly decent chap who doesn't deserve to be traduced in the pages of this blog.  Sorry, Val.
*** Which I was NOT ALLOWED TO PLAY!
^  A line from Oddball in that classic war film "Kelly's Heroes"

These Nudes Aren't Rude!

Honestly Your Honour
Firstly, they are present on the cover of a book and W H Smith wouldn't stock it if there were any questions of morality or probity, would they?  
     Secondly, it's art, and you can get away with an awful lot under the heading of "Art".  When First Bus and/or The Metro mount their inevitable legal challenge to have BOOJUM! silenced with an injunction, why, Conrad's rebuttal will be under terms of this blog's artistic licence.  "Post-modern irony" I will loudly declaim, which ought to get me off with a bit of stern finger-wagging from the judge because nobody, as far as I can see, has the faintest idea of what post-modern irony is.
     Thirdly, and this might be the most important bit, the artwork in question is from approximately 2,500 years ago.

  

     I shall leave the picture as merely "Medium" because otherwise we'd possibly become NSFW.  Anyway, this picture proves two things:  1) It isn't rude in the accepted sense of the word and 2)  I do actually possess this book and you can trust me when I say that I'm reading it.
     BOOJUM! - simultaneously slandering bus companies and providing you with a bluffers-guide to Classical Greek literature*.

Which inevitably leads on to -

Thucycides And The History Of The Peloponnesian War
Conrad notes that some terms and concepts as mentioned by Thuck are not elaborated upon, nor explicated by the translator, leading your humble scribe to ponder at length.  There does seem to have been an accepted code of conduct for fighting each other in the Classical Greek world, which also seems to have been so taken for granted that it isn't explained.  Bear in mind also that we're talking potentially hundreds of city-states across the Hellenic world. For instance:
     "A Herald's wand" - no more details given, so possibly similar in concept to a "Flag of Truce" in that the messenger is deemed to be inviolable, if he's carrying such a wand.  This makes sense, and also implies shared values across Hellas**.

NO! Art, for heaven's sake -

     "Truce" - carried out by negotiation between the opposing sides, in this case to retrieve the bodies of the dead for burial.  Abandoning the bodies of your slain seems to be regarded as repellent and uncivilised.  
     "Trophy" - the exact construction of these is not detailed and it seems to have been a procedure you carried out if you believed you had won the battle.

Art!  My tazer is within reach -

     "Paean" - a kind of battle song, delivered before you got down to the brass tacks of killing-off your opponent.  Perhaps each paean was unique to each city?  Again not detailed.
     "Tribute" - what might be thought of as "Colonial council tax".  If a mother city established a colony elsewhere across the Mediterranean, chances are it needed to pay an annual tax to the mother city.

Too many words!  More pictures!

You What?
Ah yes, as mentioned earlier today there are certain constants that carry over from 2015 into this new year of 2016.  Water remains wet, a fact we here in the North West can solemnly attest to.  The charge of an electron remains the same, which is good, as this is the underpinning of the Universe and were it to change we'd all die instantly.  And, yes, the Twits and the Foobs remain as intellect-free as ever. 
     Take this -

Great balls of fire, you might say

     I wonder how this came to be suggested, as Conrad has exactly 0 (zero) interest in either hydroponics or gardening.  Supermarkets sell fruit and vegetables so your humble scribe can spend his time reading or writing, not wrestling with weeds, trowels and fertiliser.
     BAH!

Then Again ...
Of course even a stopped clock can be right, once per day if it's digital and on the 24 hour system.  So, the Foobs got it almost right as viz this -

Yelling loudly: not a very effective anti-aircraft defence

     Conrad has seen all the films mentioned - you could probably guess that already - and concurs with the opinions expressed.  However, one of these Bad Films is "Red Tails" which is also listed in their supplementary "8 Overlooked War Films That Are Actually Quite Good", so NO! War History Online, you have just had your cake.  Make your mind up!


Let me leave you with this thought:

"FABULIFT EYES BLOCKBUSTER"

     I have no idea what it means, it was the title of a television programme.


* The artistic question of why Classical Greek statuary is clinically precise, yet two-dimensional art is not remains unanswered.
** Ancient Greek term for "Greece"

Oh Dear. Hello 2016.

Your Gifted Author Is Worried
If you have a history of reading the blog then you know Conrad worries about the coincidences that plague him, as he is convinced in his paranoid fashion that the Universe is trying to tell him something.  It would be easier for Conrad is this could be communicated via Twitter or G-mail, ta very much Universe.
     Normally, the rules of reality only start to flex when Conrad reads Thomas Pynchon.  Of late this has begun to happen when reading the Beeb's website or watching television, or staring blankly out of the window*.
     Coincidence The First:  Conrad has never read anything by Orson Scott Card until now, a short story called "Ender's Game".  Which I'd heard of previously.  What I didn't know was that Ender's surname is - Wiggins.  Which Card said he dreamt up because it sounded "hobbitty".
     Yes well, dialogued Conrad with himself.  What were you reading that morning on the Beeb website but an article about bicycling in wet weather?  And who was the author?

This chap

     Okayyyyy.  You can dismiss one coincidence at a time.  A bit un-nerving but on the whole, acceptable.  However -
     Coincidence The Second: As you ought to be aware, Conrad this week has been complaining about the exaggeratedly-cheerful birds that chirp remorselessly at the bus stop of a morning.  He was actually writing out another skit on the subject when what comes up on television but an advert for an organisation who have never broadcast before:

Hard to tell, but it's a starling

     The RSPB, if you care.  By now your humble scribe is beginning to wonder what's going on.  It's not over yet!
     Coincidence The Third:  Conrad likes to stay informed about what horror stories are going on in the world, also known as "news", by checking out the BBC website.  No, Vulnavia, reading "The Metro" doesn't count.
     So, when I read the below:

The article on the left.  The one on the right might be about BOOJUM! but if you think I meant the middle one - Just No.

     The secrets of birdsong, eh?
     Like I said, Universe, plain English via social media, please.

Well, that's 2016 introducing itself.  Fortunately some things remain constant and true, as in the case of Conrad's first breakfast of the year:

     Giant cup of tea, crumpet and ice cream.  Also a toasted muffin with the last of the pork joint from last week, which is a concession towards brunch.

A Cat And Dog Moment
Last night Edna was disporting herself with one of the toys bought as a Christmas present for her:

     Oh boy did she enjoy chewing that rag bone.  Gnaw gnaw gnaw, all whilst on her back exhibiting no dignity at all.  You can contrast that with this:

"Insert humourous caption here"

     I've not seen the cat do this before; the bannister is frequently empty of towel and I'm not sure the footing on varnished wood would be good enough for her to manage this.  If she has done it once and remained out of reach of "that annoying pest Edna**" then it might happen again.  Edna couldn't possibly trump this as she's nowhere near dextrous or well-balanced enough to mimic this perching act.

Seconds Out
Or "Just In Time" or "Watch It" or any one of a dozen terrible puns.  My old plastic digital watch is not long for this world as the retaining strap has broken and the main one has a big crack all the way across.
     I did have a loan except that was far too large, kept slipping down to my knuckles and catching the hairs on my hand.  And I have horribly hairy hands.

     Fortunately that on the right arrived yesterday, costing £6, which is even cheaper than the bargain-basement digital watches that your humble scribe usually goes for, plus it comes with Roman numerals, which is cool.

Allow Me
Today is one of two days in the year, or 0.5% per annum, when it isn't possible for Conrad to criticise the service that First Bus provides.
     "You're in the car?" I hear as a comment. Incorrect.  "You're not going to work today?" is another call.  Also incorrect.  "Matter transporters have been invented and are being sold at New Year's Day sales?" is yet another.  Also incorrect, but quite creative.  Give Stephen Moffat a call.
     No, the reason is that they don't run any services today.  We shall see what they get up to tomorrow, hmmm?





* Which I will defend as part of the creative process.  You disagree?  Whose blog is it?
** I have to use quote marks or there will be trouble from Wonder Wifey.