JON SNOW

This Will Take A While To Develop -
 - which is business as usual around here.  Ah, the luxury of not having an editor!  Or a definite word limit; I aim for 750 as a minimum, but this can easily be exceeded if I get on a roll.  Creativity - you know how it is.
     Anyway, back to the First Unpleasantness and the Italian Front, which I'll bet you knew nothing about.  I mentioned this earlier in the week, thanks to a prompt from the Youtube channel 'The Great War: Out of the Trenches", and a very cold Indy Neidell.  Art?

Indy plus crew

     Just to recap and set the scene again.  The fighting here between Italians and Austro-Hungarians was amongst the mountains, up to two miles above sea level.  Things were bad enough in spring and summer, as it is never fun when your fellow man is doing his level best to shuffle you off this mortal coil.  In autumn and winter the weather made things even worse, as the temperatures plummeted well below freezing; perhaps 45C below zero when the wind-chill got factored in.  Over on the Western Front the weather might make you ill - it certainly wouldn't kill you stone dead in a matter of hours, as with this war in the clouds.  I think another picture is warranted.  Art?

Comparatively warm inside their homely glacier

     An environment, as you can see, dominated by snow.  This is proper snow - Laura, Italian colleague, was describing snowfall 4 metres yards deep in her part of the country, which is a bit beyond what the feeble Allotment of Eden can manage.  Art?

We try.

      "Yes yes yes," I hear you chunter.  "Where, exactly, does this "JON" bit come in?"
     Er - welllll I was being a wee bit cheaty and click-baity there, I confess.  I should have more properly put it "J.O.N." as it's anacronym, although I don't think the punctuation copies across to Facebook.*
     Darting wildly off-track (except not really) we then jump across the Adriatic to the Balkans, where the whole First Unpleasantness began.  If you recall, Gavrilo Princip of the Black Hand perforated a couple of Hapsburg notables with bullets, and began the whole sorry business.

Gavrilo

     Here an aside.  Ol' Gav wasn't promptly shot on the spot after his little assassination binge, and indeed only died in 1918 from tuberculosis, which is a bit of a bummer if you're an assassin expecting to go out in a blaze of glory.  The Austro-Hungarians not as sinisterly bloodthirsty as painted, it seems.
     Anyway!  Ol' - actually Young but that doesn't contract in an amusing manner - Gav was a member of a pan-Yugoslavian - er - 'movement' or 'a terrorist' depending on where you stood:  the Order of the Black Hand.
     And what is Italian for "Yugoslavian" but "Jugoslavien".
     And what is Italian for "Order" but "Ordine".
     And what is Italian for "Black" but "Nero".
     There you have it:  thanks to J.O.N. there is martial involvement in the snows.

You were expecting this, weren't you?

Meanwhile, Back In Westeros -

As you know, Conrad is ever one to offer advice to people in sticky situations, and that at the end of an obscure cult television series known as  "Game of Thrones" was pretty damn sticky.

     To recap: the Army of the Dead, essentially tens of thousands of zombies, has gotten over the wreckage of The Wall and is poised to stagger rampant over the lands south of the breached mega-structure, led by the White Walkers.

Close enough.

     Liam, who unlike most of you is familiar with this minor entertainment, postulated that the Army of the Dead will remain in a frozen state as they lumber south, because Winter has arrived and will either follow in their footsteps or precede them.

Winter.  For the unfamiliar

     Well!  This rather countradicts Conrad's suggested strategy for Jon.  My idea was to evacuate everything out of the way of the invading horde, merely leaving a small baiting decoy force in their path.  Inexorably they would draw the wights into conflict with the armies of Cersei, and then merely have to clear up what remains.  The southern heat, ran my assumption, would rapidly turn the wights into merely mobile mince and a lot of them would fall apart before reaching King's Landing** thanks to the sub-tropical heat.

Thus

     I still think my idea has merit, because those shambling wights are still going to have to plod thousands of miles - if it's that far, my memory's a bit hazy - and a lot of them will have fallen apart before getting to grips with Cersei.  All Jon needs to do is follow and build big bonfires.  Simples!***

 

Wow, over count already and we've only covered two topics, although said topics are quite broad.

 

I Was Right

Right, I tell you! And not just in my own head.  Last night, at Pub Quiz, one of the questions was "What group was Vince Clark in besides Yahoo and Depeche Mode"?

Yahoo.  Maybe.

     Of course Conrad was in there immediately with "The Assembly", which was a short-lived and rather obscure group with Fergal Sharkey on vocals.  Art?

THE PROOF!

     And the quizmaster stated that the answer was "Erasure".

     Pah!^

 

 

 

*  A rock-solid excuse I am sticking to.

**  I apologise for using so much jargon, yet it adds to the atmosphere, doesn't it?

***  Except that would make for a very short series.  It can't be that simple, surely?

^  To be said in a Loud Disgusted Voice (Conrad's default)



 

We Pecan Work It Out

Or, Conrad Takes The Biscuit
Metaphorically, since we are talking about cakes.  If you recall, last week I baked maple pecan muffins, gluten free, because I felt like it.  I even took a picture that I'm not going to reproduce, because you can have too much of a good thing.
     Anyway, they were not a success thanks to the cupcake casings; the paper stuck to the muffins and either wouldn't peel off or took half the muffin with it <sad face>.  This, I reasoned afterwards, was because the paper had deteriorated after who knows how many years sitting in the kitchen cupboard, absorbing water and oils and generally breaking down.
     So!  Cast your glazzies over this -

Muffins, Round 2

     The ones without a paper casing came out of silicon rubber cupcake moulds, which worked a treat.  The paper ones required a little careful handling, but still worked well.
     Success!  I won the bitter batter battle.  Oh, and only half the muffins have a pecan on because pecans are pricey, as nuts go, and Wonder Wifey has laid claim to these, so the folks at work won't get many.  The recipe actually called for three pecans on each muffin, which would have meant about 3 bags of nuts just as topping, so I said - er - nuts to that.
     Now it's time to strap a large rocket to the back of the motley and send it soaring over the rooftops!

A Bit Of A Bash
As you may be aware already, Conrad is not entirely sure how his mind works.  It does - for the most part - and that's really all he requires of it.* Thus, when the word "Chevauchee" popped into his head last night, it wasn't that much of a surprise.
     'It sounds French,' I said to myself, somewhat disapprovingly, for the English language is good enough for anyone.  'Probably something sordid and seedy and unpleasant.'

One out of three -

     Well, one out of three's not bad. 
     "What?  What!  What is it, Conrad O Aged Scribe!  Tell us, for we are anxious to know!"
     Narrowing my eyes at what is either healthy respect or piquant sarcasm, I shall indeed explicate.
     The term is French, and dates from the Middle Ages,** and means "promenade".  It was not, however, a cakewalk.*** Quite the opposite.  It meant to devastate the lands of one's enemy by generally pillaging, looting (are they the same thing?  I'll get back to you on that) and burning, rather than bringing them to a pitched battle or laying siege to their fortified places.  Art?

English tourists at work, promenading

     I am sorry to say inform you that the French were frequent victims of this, when the English crown felt like making a point.  The Black Prince's chevauchee of 1355 was one of the most destructive ever, heh! and brought considerable hatred to bear not merely on him, but also on the cowardly French nobility who cravenly cowered in castles, rather than taking him on.  There was a fair bit of this activity even on a normal campaign; you could generally tell where an English army was in the beautiful French countryside by seeing what was on fire.

The Black Prince.
Doesn't look the kind of chap to get on the wrong side of, hmmm?

Would You Credit It
As you should surely know by now, Conrad is an anorak, although which kind, best or worst, is really in the eye of the beholder ('middling' is not an option).  Given that one of my odder habits is perusing the ingredients list on bathroom cosmetics, you can probably guess that I scan the end credits of television programs intently.  Not only that, as a fully-fledged anorak (don't forget, 'middling' not an option) I sit there with a notepad and pen.
     So!  There I was at the end of Episode 6 of "The Defenders".  Art?

Defend this!

     '2nd 2nd Assistant Director' came up.  Wait, what?  Couldn't they just call it 5th Director?  And - what on earth can they do that's so specific - put out the plates and collect dinner money?      Then there was - 'Parking Co-ordinator'.  Well, if you're filming in New York you can't just tootle about where and when you like; it would make the tourists unhappy.  Your production crew also need access to their vehicles, and those used for filming, so you need to keep track of what's where and when.

Parkin co-ordinator.  Close enough.

*  Although having it switch off occasionally would be nice.  Okay, Brain?
**  No tasteless jokes here, folks.
***  Do you see what - O you do.