- before I dash off to the Manchester Military History Society. The lecture tonight is on battlefield touring, slanted towards Normandy but applicable to many other sites of past conflict.
Conrad is going because he's saving up to venture forth into Flanders, possibly to Ypern, as it is known today, or "Ypres" as it was known to the British army in World War One. I have read libraries about the place but have never seen it with these old glazzies. I'm getting on a bit, you know (chorus of "ahhhs"!), and I need to get these visits in before old age cements me to a chair. The dilemma is, go this Autumn when I'll have enough saved but when the weather is likely to be bad, or wait until next Spring, when the weather will be good - but when there are also likely to be scads of other tourists. 2014 you see. Centenary. But not for Italy, they have to wait until 2015.
Well, got to go, that zombie - sorry, that lecture needs attending.
Pip pip!
Tuesday, 9 July 2013
Monday, 8 July 2013
Streaming and Beaming
Don't Touch That Dial! (nor that mouse, either) OR Why Conrad Feareth Not the BPI
Ah, on-line streaming music websites! How I fondly remember Spotify's free service of, and here my memory gets a bit vague, five years ago.
Then it got progressively worse and worser* and I haven't been there for probably a year. "Why not?" chorus thousands of readers, "Tell us, Conrad, tell us!"
By the time I metaphorically kicked it in the teeth and swore a heated goodbye to the free service, your time per month had been whittled down tofifteen seconds** eighteen hours, you could only play a song once** three times
YEAH! SKY-PUNCH! BLUE OYSTER CULT PLAYING R U READY 2 ROCK!
Ahem. I shall explain about that in a bit. Oh, yes, Spotify. Not only that, you got ghastly interrupting adverts every other song. I'm sure by now and by extension for free you get thirty minutes per month, can play a song once and have five aural adverts for each song.
Then we come to Grooveshark. Initially their website was glitchy, un-intuitive and not user-friendly. However, they picked up my telepathic criticism and had a redesign. There are no restrictions on access time, you can play a song all day long until your speakers vibrate apart, the adverts are subtle and sidebarred and are VISUAL and so don't interrupt. Searching for songs and creating a collection is easy. I tend to have it on in the background, playing whilst I create, and - well, apologies from a middle-aged man pathetically trying to stay young, those guitar slides in "R U Ready 2 Rock" played live really hit the spot. Excuse an old rockist his foibles. That "Beaming" in the title refers to my being happy with Grooveshark. So be it.
And no, I'm not getting paid for this. Any Grooveshark managing directors reading this who might want to give me vast amounts of £££ are kindly welcome, but I'd post this even if it didn't make me a penny.
Oh, for any overseas visitors, the "BPI" of the title are the "British Phonographic Industry", a trade association which includes anti-piracy measures amongst it's activities. With Grooveshark, why bother downloading pirated music? Simply not worth it.
*Yes I know that's not a proper English word but it feels right
** Again inaccurate but, damn it, they feel right!
My own personal nickname for them. Surprise! Other people think the same. Conrad. Trailblazing.
Ah, on-line streaming music websites! How I fondly remember Spotify's free service of, and here my memory gets a bit vague, five years ago.
Then it got progressively worse and worser* and I haven't been there for probably a year. "Why not?" chorus thousands of readers, "Tell us, Conrad, tell us!"
By the time I metaphorically kicked it in the teeth and swore a heated goodbye to the free service, your time per month had been whittled down to
YEAH! SKY-PUNCH! BLUE OYSTER CULT PLAYING R U READY 2 ROCK!
Ahem. I shall explain about that in a bit. Oh, yes, Spotify. Not only that, you got ghastly interrupting adverts every other song. I'm sure by now and by extension for free you get thirty minutes per month, can play a song once and have five aural adverts for each song.
Then we come to Grooveshark. Initially their website was glitchy, un-intuitive and not user-friendly. However, they picked up my telepathic criticism and had a redesign. There are no restrictions on access time, you can play a song all day long until your speakers vibrate apart, the adverts are subtle and sidebarred and are VISUAL and so don't interrupt. Searching for songs and creating a collection is easy. I tend to have it on in the background, playing whilst I create, and - well, apologies from a middle-aged man pathetically trying to stay young, those guitar slides in "R U Ready 2 Rock" played live really hit the spot. Excuse an old rockist his foibles. That "Beaming" in the title refers to my being happy with Grooveshark. So be it.
And no, I'm not getting paid for this. Any Grooveshark managing directors reading this who might want to give me vast amounts of £££ are kindly welcome, but I'd post this even if it didn't make me a penny.
Oh, for any overseas visitors, the "BPI" of the title are the "British Phonographic Industry", a trade association which includes anti-piracy measures amongst it's activities. With Grooveshark, why bother downloading pirated music? Simply not worth it.
*Yes I know that's not a proper English word but it feels right
** Again inaccurate but, damn it, they feel right!
My own personal nickname for them. Surprise! Other people think the same. Conrad. Trailblazing.
Sunday, 7 July 2013
O Sunny Day!
For those reading this who live in sunnier climes, allow me a moment of enjoyment. We haven't had a consistent summer here in the UK for years; maybe a week in May and a week in September if we were lucky. So a period of days in July with sun! is something to marvel mildly about. Several years ago I proposed economising the seasons here in Britain: for two weeks in August we would have Summer; for the remaining 11 months and two weeks we would have Slutch, defined as grey, windy, wet and cold. The DoE rejected my idea on the grounds that calendar and pizza makers would be confused and what about Vivaldi?
I Scream
More accurately, I bore, about ice-cream. The raspberry version has just gone into the freezer, on the heels of the Bailey's and Malteser version; not sure how the latter will turn out, and The Guinea Pig (a.k.a. darling daughter) isn't here to test it.
- excuse me whilst I sink some Ruddles County Ale nice and chilled -
okay, back again, what next? Technology! let me use that as a title.
Technology - the Good side
A confession here - I've not been able to upload photos from my mobile's camera because I was connecting it to the plug socket from force of habit. Naturally this charges the phone but it isn't connected to my PC.
Birdsweat! Conrad you dummy.
There are definite positive aspects to modern digital technology. Having a camera in my mobile is the best thing about the bloody devil-box as it enables me to share the following:
- which is a fantastically decorated pot my darling daughter Sally made. Also heavy and fragile, as I discovered when, as removal man and chauffeur combined, I had to collect it from college. I won't go into the Angel Wings this time ...
Technology - the Downside
Oh the irony - every tinfoil hat-wearing loonwaffle can now create a blog about How The Government Is Controlling Your Mind And Upskirt Shots Are Harmless Fun, or share their stunningly inane life on Facebook in mind-numbing minutiae - erm, think I'll stop this rant before it gets too close to home.
Better be off - still not yet reached the end of Year Three in that zombie novel ...
What the Angel Wings (reconstituted) look like:
Cheerio!
Saturday, 6 July 2013
Conrad as Film Director
World War Z
Caution! Spoilers!
I read the book several years ago, then heard it was being made into a film, and wondered how it would translate. The actual production seemed to be troubled, although getting your props impounded in Hungary - and thus making the news world-wide - is really good publicity.
I think the film fell between two stools. It couldn't emulate the novel, which is composed of countless vignettes, without a budget of billions and a run-time of several days. It didn't stick to one location and fill in the background implicitly or with passing information. Instead it hops from one location to another, but in a limited way.
Then there is the way things go from Completely Normal to Absolutely Cfuked Up in the space of hours, if that. No news warnings or stories about zombies or mass strange behaviour - the apocalypse unfolds instantly as Mr Pitt drives into Philadelphia. Perhaps, if we get a sequel, this would be explained, but the incredibly rapid onset is only ever referred to in passing in a single sentence about air travel being the perfect way to spread the disease.
And, surely, if you are facing gigantic kaiju from beneath the sea, a more rational response would be missiles with sub-kiloton nuclear warheads, instead of building - whoops, no, sorry, that was one of the trailers!
Basic physics and the human body: I am not a doctor, for which you may be truly grateful, but at a couple of points in the film we see a vertical mass of zombies attempting to get at victims and surmounting vertical obstacles thanks to sheer numbers. I rather suspect that a mass of humans attempting to scale a wall of a hundred metres height would in fact collapse under it's own weight.
That in turn brings me to what I liked about the film - I could be way off here, but it appears one of the production design staff likened the zombie mass to ants in the way they mass and move. This has a precedent in the novel, where a Japanese survivor describes zombies in a Japanese term that is derived from ants. Like ants, these WWZ zombies have no individual will or intellect but manifest direction at a (slightly) higher level.
Patient Zero
In the novel this is a Chinese boy in mainland China. The film has this transposed to South Korea - as far as we know. Again, if we get a sequel, this may get backfilled, but I am not holding my breath.
Contrast
In Philadelphia, New York, Korea and Jerusalem we have expansive cityscapes, explosions, gigantic zombie attacks, guns, and explosions galore. At the dramatic crisis we end up with a handful of survivors trying to creep around a building being as quiet as mice, one gun between three of them.
In summary, I liked the film, but it could have been much better! The novel [SPOILER AHOY SPOILER AHOY DO NOT READ ON ah whatever] doesn't have a magical McGuffin, instead it has a hard-headed triage system for surviving human communities. Which, in fairness, is not a quick cinematic fix and would probably need a lot of cinematic resolution to remain convincing.
Okay, now, my own Zombie Novel takes the tack that civilisatio <cont. Page 96>
Caution! Spoilers!
I read the book several years ago, then heard it was being made into a film, and wondered how it would translate. The actual production seemed to be troubled, although getting your props impounded in Hungary - and thus making the news world-wide - is really good publicity.
I think the film fell between two stools. It couldn't emulate the novel, which is composed of countless vignettes, without a budget of billions and a run-time of several days. It didn't stick to one location and fill in the background implicitly or with passing information. Instead it hops from one location to another, but in a limited way.
Then there is the way things go from Completely Normal to Absolutely Cfuked Up in the space of hours, if that. No news warnings or stories about zombies or mass strange behaviour - the apocalypse unfolds instantly as Mr Pitt drives into Philadelphia. Perhaps, if we get a sequel, this would be explained, but the incredibly rapid onset is only ever referred to in passing in a single sentence about air travel being the perfect way to spread the disease.
And, surely, if you are facing gigantic kaiju from beneath the sea, a more rational response would be missiles with sub-kiloton nuclear warheads, instead of building - whoops, no, sorry, that was one of the trailers!
Basic physics and the human body: I am not a doctor, for which you may be truly grateful, but at a couple of points in the film we see a vertical mass of zombies attempting to get at victims and surmounting vertical obstacles thanks to sheer numbers. I rather suspect that a mass of humans attempting to scale a wall of a hundred metres height would in fact collapse under it's own weight.
That in turn brings me to what I liked about the film - I could be way off here, but it appears one of the production design staff likened the zombie mass to ants in the way they mass and move. This has a precedent in the novel, where a Japanese survivor describes zombies in a Japanese term that is derived from ants. Like ants, these WWZ zombies have no individual will or intellect but manifest direction at a (slightly) higher level.
Patient Zero
In the novel this is a Chinese boy in mainland China. The film has this transposed to South Korea - as far as we know. Again, if we get a sequel, this may get backfilled, but I am not holding my breath.
Contrast
In Philadelphia, New York, Korea and Jerusalem we have expansive cityscapes, explosions, gigantic zombie attacks, guns, and explosions galore. At the dramatic crisis we end up with a handful of survivors trying to creep around a building being as quiet as mice, one gun between three of them.
In summary, I liked the film, but it could have been much better! The novel [SPOILER AHOY SPOILER AHOY DO NOT READ ON ah whatever] doesn't have a magical McGuffin, instead it has a hard-headed triage system for surviving human communities. Which, in fairness, is not a quick cinematic fix and would probably need a lot of cinematic resolution to remain convincing.
Okay, now, my own Zombie Novel takes the tack that civilisatio <cont. Page 96>
Friday, 5 July 2013
Behold the Bloke.
I have been fiddling around with the Blog, so now You The Reader can see me in all my 78 year-old glory, standing utterly knackered after working all day in a retail store last Christmas. Can you guess where I work yet?
In The Office
At last! I have landed a desk right beside the window, and can now crank the Victorian windowpanes open in order to let fresh air buffet upon me. This is no mere frivolity since my ability to fall asleep in hot, airless, stuffy environments was well known at Connexions. My immediate manager's concern when the Director came to lecture us was to have me concealed out of direct line-of-sight of our Mighty Leader, because after half an hour I would fall asleep. During more mundane office meetings those staff sat alongside me would be tasked with poking every so often with sharp objects, to ensure I was awake and aware. In desperation I was selected to minute our meetings, which usually started at 3:30, but by 4:00 the minutes would look as if a dying, ink-stained slug had crawled across the page.
But not at [Insert name of employer here]! Not now I can get the temperature down to a comfortable 8 or 9 degrees C. And yes, I would sit in the fridge if it were big enough.
Cupboard Love
Last week Abi missed out on the home-made chocolate ice-cream, so I asked if she would like a particular cake baking this week instead? "Carrot cake" she replied, so I used the Hummingbird Bakery book that Mystery Santa* got me for Christmas. Well the cake that results is a four-layer sponge with over a pound of icing, I had to carry it under a cardboard box that was carried in a laundry basket to ensure it got to the office intact. Cue chorus of awe from staff when it gets unveiled, and then! All the female staff declare that they are on diets and can't have any! Except Abi, bless her, who scoffs a slice straight away and <cue Conrad blushing> renders a peck on the cheek in gratitude.
Because I Can
Oho. Oh boy. I have now worked out how to post pictures from my mobile's camera.
This -
Is from earlier this year, when I finally put my comics collection in order.
And this -
Is a 30 foot Christmas tree made out of knitted socks.
Th - th- that's all, folks - pip pip!
In The Office
At last! I have landed a desk right beside the window, and can now crank the Victorian windowpanes open in order to let fresh air buffet upon me. This is no mere frivolity since my ability to fall asleep in hot, airless, stuffy environments was well known at Connexions. My immediate manager's concern when the Director came to lecture us was to have me concealed out of direct line-of-sight of our Mighty Leader, because after half an hour I would fall asleep. During more mundane office meetings those staff sat alongside me would be tasked with poking every so often with sharp objects, to ensure I was awake and aware. In desperation I was selected to minute our meetings, which usually started at 3:30, but by 4:00 the minutes would look as if a dying, ink-stained slug had crawled across the page.
But not at [Insert name of employer here]! Not now I can get the temperature down to a comfortable 8 or 9 degrees C. And yes, I would sit in the fridge if it were big enough.
Cupboard Love
Last week Abi missed out on the home-made chocolate ice-cream, so I asked if she would like a particular cake baking this week instead? "Carrot cake" she replied, so I used the Hummingbird Bakery book that Mystery Santa* got me for Christmas. Well the cake that results is a four-layer sponge with over a pound of icing, I had to carry it under a cardboard box that was carried in a laundry basket to ensure it got to the office intact. Cue chorus of awe from staff when it gets unveiled, and then! All the female staff declare that they are on diets and can't have any! Except Abi, bless her, who scoffs a slice straight away and <cue Conrad blushing> renders a peck on the cheek in gratitude.
The Culprit
Because I Can
Oho. Oh boy. I have now worked out how to post pictures from my mobile's camera.
This -
Is from earlier this year, when I finally put my comics collection in order.
And this -
Is a 30 foot Christmas tree made out of knitted socks.
Th - th- that's all, folks - pip pip!
Thursday, 4 July 2013
I Didn't Know That -
Those Sinister Muscovites
"One of Our Submarines is Missing" by Thomas Dolby - apparently inspired by the death of his uncle aboard one of the Royal Navy's submarines. Playing in the background and definitely one of my favourite TD songs. The lyrics imply that the sub was loitering in the Baltic hence spying on those damned Russians during the Cold War, I'll be bound.
Here's another one- Michael Caine served in the Korean War - in Korea - as a national serviceman. Then he featured in a film about the Korean War - "A Hill In Korea", filmed here in the UK, which must have seemed a little strange. And of course the Korean War would never have taken place if it weren't for Stalin deciding to meddle in the peninsula. Those damn Russians again!
And where - as I blogged earlier - has young Eddy Snowden vanished to? Imagine it, an American espionage expert who is seeking asylum, who happens to turn up at Sheremetyevo Airport and who nobody will really miss if he <ahem> "goes missing" <cough coughSiberiacough> Ah them wily Russians at it again!
Actually
Silliness aside, I don't really dislike or fear the Russians, and got into trouble at school in the 1970's (yes I am really that old) defending them, and later in the 80's for being interested in Russian culture and art. The Strugatsky Brothers wrote some corking science-fiction that was definitely different from the Western version, then you had Russian classical composers, awesome Russian chess players, Andrei Tarkovsky the film director and literary giants such as Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and Gogol. Try explaining to your 1980's contemporaries that not every Russian male is an agent of the KGB who would die happy if he could rip your evil capitalist throat out with his bare teeth, or that every Russian woman was not a svelte Mata-Hari-esque seductress who could kiss or kill with equal facility.
Whilst the Soviet Union liked to project an air of competence and ruthless efficiency, the truth was rather different - bureaucratic inertia and rampant skiving. Here's a telling joke:
A CIA agent is parachuted into Russia, but decides to pack it in before starting and heads for the nearest town and the KGB offices there in order to give himself up. He goes into the Reception area and speaks to the clerk there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up."
The clerk eyes him in a measuring way.
"What is your mission here? Propaganda? Assassination? Sabotage?" he snaps.
"Sabotage,' confesses the American.
"Then you need the First Floor. See the clerk there."
The spy takes the lift to the First Floor, encountering the security guard on reception there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," elaborates the spy.
"You are here to commit acts of sabotage?" asks the guard. The American nods.
"What kind of sabotage? Against buildings? Transport? Industrial sites?"
"Ah - transport," the American clarifies.
The guard tuts.
"Wrong floor. You need the Third Floor. Use the lift."
The American uses the lift and debarks on the Third Floor, where he again encounters
a guard at the reception desk.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," he repeats.
The guard stares at him.
"You are here to sabotage transport facilities?"
"Yes."
The guard snorts.
"Wrong floor. You need the Fifth Floor. Use the stairs, the lift is broken."
The spy clambers up the stairs and encounters a guard at the reception there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," gasps the sweating spy.
"Sabotage of transport? What type! Road, rail, air or marine?" barks the guard.
"Rail," says the spy.
"Down the corridor, fourth door on the right," explains the guard, going back to his
newspaper.
The spy walks down the corridor, knocks and enters the fourth room. Inside a man
behind a desk looks up with annoyance.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," repeats the spy.
The man behind the desk looks at the wall clock.
"Look," he says. "It's five to five on a Friday afternoon. Can't you come back on
Monday morning?"
"One of Our Submarines is Missing" by Thomas Dolby - apparently inspired by the death of his uncle aboard one of the Royal Navy's submarines. Playing in the background and definitely one of my favourite TD songs. The lyrics imply that the sub was loitering in the Baltic hence spying on those damned Russians during the Cold War, I'll be bound.
Here's another one- Michael Caine served in the Korean War - in Korea - as a national serviceman. Then he featured in a film about the Korean War - "A Hill In Korea", filmed here in the UK, which must have seemed a little strange. And of course the Korean War would never have taken place if it weren't for Stalin deciding to meddle in the peninsula. Those damn Russians again!
And where - as I blogged earlier - has young Eddy Snowden vanished to? Imagine it, an American espionage expert who is seeking asylum, who happens to turn up at Sheremetyevo Airport and who nobody will really miss if he <ahem> "goes missing" <cough coughSiberiacough> Ah them wily Russians at it again!
Actually
Silliness aside, I don't really dislike or fear the Russians, and got into trouble at school in the 1970's (yes I am really that old) defending them, and later in the 80's for being interested in Russian culture and art. The Strugatsky Brothers wrote some corking science-fiction that was definitely different from the Western version, then you had Russian classical composers, awesome Russian chess players, Andrei Tarkovsky the film director and literary giants such as Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and Gogol. Try explaining to your 1980's contemporaries that not every Russian male is an agent of the KGB who would die happy if he could rip your evil capitalist throat out with his bare teeth, or that every Russian woman was not a svelte Mata-Hari-esque seductress who could kiss or kill with equal facility.
Whilst the Soviet Union liked to project an air of competence and ruthless efficiency, the truth was rather different - bureaucratic inertia and rampant skiving. Here's a telling joke:
A CIA agent is parachuted into Russia, but decides to pack it in before starting and heads for the nearest town and the KGB offices there in order to give himself up. He goes into the Reception area and speaks to the clerk there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up."
The clerk eyes him in a measuring way.
"What is your mission here? Propaganda? Assassination? Sabotage?" he snaps.
"Sabotage,' confesses the American.
"Then you need the First Floor. See the clerk there."
The spy takes the lift to the First Floor, encountering the security guard on reception there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," elaborates the spy.
"You are here to commit acts of sabotage?" asks the guard. The American nods.
"What kind of sabotage? Against buildings? Transport? Industrial sites?"
"Ah - transport," the American clarifies.
The guard tuts.
"Wrong floor. You need the Third Floor. Use the lift."
The American uses the lift and debarks on the Third Floor, where he again encounters
a guard at the reception desk.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," he repeats.
The guard stares at him.
"You are here to sabotage transport facilities?"
"Yes."
The guard snorts.
"Wrong floor. You need the Fifth Floor. Use the stairs, the lift is broken."
The spy clambers up the stairs and encounters a guard at the reception there.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," gasps the sweating spy.
"Sabotage of transport? What type! Road, rail, air or marine?" barks the guard.
"Rail," says the spy.
"Down the corridor, fourth door on the right," explains the guard, going back to his
newspaper.
The spy walks down the corridor, knocks and enters the fourth room. Inside a man
behind a desk looks up with annoyance.
"Hello, I'm an American spy and I've come to give myself up," repeats the spy.
The man behind the desk looks at the wall clock.
"Look," he says. "It's five to five on a Friday afternoon. Can't you come back on
Monday morning?"
Wednesday, 3 July 2013
Late Breaking Blog
I don't know if anyone out there actually waits for these rambunctious ramblings, but I apologise for being late with this one.
Yes, I have tried to post one per day.
Yes, I have managed this goal so far.
No, I cannot guarantee to post much before midnight*.
Reason One
I worked on the late shift tonight, which means not getting home until 7 o'clock. Having arrived home I then have to get changed before making tomorrow's lunch, and - Surprise! - I don't have to also wash a mountain of dirty dishes today.
I do have to study the carcass of a dead bee, because a host of these characters seem to have taken up residence under our eaves, and you can't simply get rid of them due to their endangered status. Luckily for the Connolly's these are mason bees, a polite and deferential species embodying all our Anglo-Saxon behaviours, rather than the African Killer Bee ...
Reason Two
More Bakery Boredom for those who want to know what the kill-radius is for a 106 Fused 6" Howitzer shell at 5,000 yards. I've been baking a Carrot Cake recipe from the Hummingbird Bakery cookbook, whose recipes tend to be a bit more fiddly and involved than others, but which are very distinctive - that is, people scoff them up pronto. I've just baked 4 sponges and will have to wait until tomorrow to frost them; total time taken was 2 hours.
Vodka!
My ice-cream made with 2 tablespoons of rum worked out splendidly - frozen but friable, in that you can scoop it without needing to use a chisel. Rum gives the end result a flavour, whereas vodka (none present) does not. Conrad will lay in supplies of vodka as a result!
Damn! I haven't ironed a shirt for tomorrow - need to be quick with the rest of this. Vodka = Russia
Russia = the Strugatsky Brothers.
The Strugaskys = "Roadside Picnic", "Prisoners of Power", "Hard To Be A God".
Tomorrow's theme = Russia.
* Midnight here, in balmy Britain.
The Lesser-Striped Rumming-Bird in full flow.
Yes, I have tried to post one per day.
Yes, I have managed this goal so far.
No, I cannot guarantee to post much before midnight*.
Reason One
I worked on the late shift tonight, which means not getting home until 7 o'clock. Having arrived home I then have to get changed before making tomorrow's lunch, and - Surprise! - I don't have to also wash a mountain of dirty dishes today.
I do have to study the carcass of a dead bee, because a host of these characters seem to have taken up residence under our eaves, and you can't simply get rid of them due to their endangered status. Luckily for the Connolly's these are mason bees, a polite and deferential species embodying all our Anglo-Saxon behaviours, rather than the African Killer Bee ...
Reason Two
More Bakery Boredom for those who want to know what the kill-radius is for a 106 Fused 6" Howitzer shell at 5,000 yards. I've been baking a Carrot Cake recipe from the Hummingbird Bakery cookbook, whose recipes tend to be a bit more fiddly and involved than others, but which are very distinctive - that is, people scoff them up pronto. I've just baked 4 sponges and will have to wait until tomorrow to frost them; total time taken was 2 hours.
Vodka!
My ice-cream made with 2 tablespoons of rum worked out splendidly - frozen but friable, in that you can scoop it without needing to use a chisel. Rum gives the end result a flavour, whereas vodka (none present) does not. Conrad will lay in supplies of vodka as a result!
Damn! I haven't ironed a shirt for tomorrow - need to be quick with the rest of this. Vodka = Russia
Russia = the Strugatsky Brothers.
The Strugaskys = "Roadside Picnic", "Prisoners of Power", "Hard To Be A God".
Tomorrow's theme = Russia.
* Midnight here, in balmy Britain.
The Lesser-Striped Rumming-Bird in full flow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)