A Dog, A Drum, A Kick up the...

Hope y'all had a good one. A good time with the family oop north was enhanced by the realisation that the younguns have little regard for established hacks. As for that nice Mr Fromage, well we had a good larf about him too. 
All I want for xmas is an app, but what an app...!

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.fongames.ukick

Greetings

Remember?
In cyberspace only the algorithms can hear you scream.

Thanks to all those that have given us such a laugh this year!
B O'B, KJ-U, Mr Murphy and the wasted eggs, Mr E M and his penchant for bacon butties.
Mr G O. Go Gideon for screwing the, the economy, mainly.....

Christmas Caption Competition

I stumbled on this post in Memex 1.1. If my eyes and the camera do not deceive me, and they often do, they show our own royal Big Ears and his goodladywifethesecond having a sort of royal chortle!

The challenge for this year is to provide a caption suitable to the gravity and solemnity of the occasion.

Please do not lower the tone of this blog by inserting words such as t*dger, jo*nson, will*e or even coc* and think you will get away with it. Our eagle eyed, ever vigilant, editor will be on your case like a rat up a drainpipe. I said our eagle... (I heard you the first time for god's sake. I was up half the night with the bairns...Ed)

Would that be the single malt, 32 year old Bairns by the way? (They have grown  in the last few years I have to admit. Now do you think we could discuss, quietly over a cup of tea, a small cost of living increase in my remuneration.. Ed? As Jimmy Cameron once remarked the cost of living has increased to the equivalent of  £45 a bottle!)

The best, and printable caption will appear in this blog in  the new year.

He said, fearlessly, steadfastly, in the teeth of fierce opposition from the estab (... Jaysus I'm off to my bed before this gets any worse and the big boys come and kick the door in ...Ed)

Do blogs have doors? Possibly they have back doors!

Many thanks to JN for a bit of light  and some fun in a dark world this year!

Tinkers

And another...

If

 'ifs and ands were pots and pans there'd be no work for tinkers'

An article about hacking and it occurred to me that we needed another word for the people who carry it out. That is the good stuff persons who fix things and make things and do not set out to rob you, or otherwise injure you or deprive you of your private life etc.

How about Tinkers. I know there is a lot of negativity attached but it does have a certain ring to it.

( A fairy ring perhaps.. It'll never catch on... I've seen that look in your eye before... God help us all... Ed)

Out of the mouths..

Nice wee film from the Grauniad/Th'Observer, and not because they are two nice wee lassies!

http://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/dec/14/across-divide-northern-ireland-film

Not quite as simple as that but I look forward to the follow up...

Already, a group from Derry plans to challenge Palestinian and Israeli children to do the equivalent – swap a hijab for a skullcap – at an international schools encounter in Genoa.

Can't Play! Won't Play!

As part of a reading project I read Can't and Won't by Lydia Davies.
You can read what the NYT thinks of it via the link.  Members of the project were asked to read selected books and then write a
crit/review/reasons to like /dislike of between 30 - 200 words and assign a green, amber or red traffic light, amber in my case.
My view, should you be interested, is set out below:-

Maybe I got off on the wrong foot expecting A Story of Stolen Salamis to be about the battle. It was a letdown to realise it was about salamis, or sausages if you will.
How I feel about this book!
I do not like Flaubert.
I have dreams of my own, thank you.
Authors should not require cows to stand in the snow for long periods.
I have a good working relationship with cats. In the main I ignore them.
I enjoy reading letters.
I, too, suffer from over preparation and stage fright.

Trees deserve respect and should only be slaughtered for pulp if absolutely necessary.
Alternatively, electrons are available on prescription from the pharmacy at the hospital for literary diseases!

I mention this because the irritation I felt on reading it was dissipated to some extent by crafting thoughts on it afterwards.
(...crafting is one way of looking at it I suppose. Ed)

Leaves that are green

Tom Sutcliffe, during Start the Week (BBC R4 1/12/14), was discussing evolution and other matters with Jules Pretty, Andreas Wagner,  Ruth Padel  and Chris Stringer. In a casual comment he suggested  "solar panels don't grow on trees" only to catch  himself on, as they say in Belfast, as the panel indulged in collective harrumphing!

 Oh yes they do!

Crafted by Ol' Ma Nature over millions of years!
Other suppliers are available 

What a Sauce!

Seen in a barn while xmas shopping on a very wet Sunday in November while the temperature made its mind up about whether it wanted one digit or two.

Nuff said.

An Awfully Big Theory of Everything

Just booked to see the Imitation Game. Top film about a top secret, even the write ups are hush, hush on the QT!

In answer to an advertisement  Smart Boy Wanted,  placed in Secret Agents Classified, Steven Turing applies for the job. Turing, a wizard, mathematical genius and inventor of the Bombe Surprise shortens the Second World War by an average of ten years. He is played by Alan Fry and his faithful butler Higgs to Wodehousean perfection. The film deals sensitively with Turing's Motor Home Disease, a dreadful affliction which leaves him permanently incarcerated in a purpose built cottage with wheels on the outskirts of Cambridge. The crux of the film comes when Turing and Higgs are summoned to the mansion of the Dowager Hawkwind to discuss Life, the Universe, String Theory and how to get the Dreadfulhun off her lawn at Belchly Abbey... (continued, see Blog 94...)

Support your local Quantum Mechanic!

Coming to a branch near you.

Jim and John explain at Th'Observer

Not only do we have to admire the aggressive,  cheeky little bu**e*rs for what they are but they can do QM on the fly!

Autumnal Thoughts

Tinnitus in old age is just nature's way of ringing bells to no effect!

A Purrfect Day

If my memory serves me right, often it does not, Brenda and Cameron were reported to be purring down the phone to each other recently for some reason or other. Well if you want to read the truth, see it written on the back of a bus...

Possibly they were discussing the zoo at Banham?
Or it could be they were looking ahead to the Urns at Clacton-on-Sea?
(Meoww...Ed)

A lying of pardoners

Chloe Rhodes writes in the Grauniad today on ten of the best collective nouns.
There, nestled amongst the murders, parliaments and unkindnesses is the lying of pardoners.
Because we at BP offer such services our ears were pricked.

Medieval society was dominated by the church, and the ticket to heaven was an unsullied soul. In pursuit of spiritual purity, but largely unable to resist the occasional temptation, the desperate populace turned to "pardoners" to cleanse them of their sins. Pardoners were usually friars or priests who claimed to be in close contact with the pope, whom they said gave them the power to grant absolution. For a fee, naturally. Not surprisingly, the profession attracted a large number of fraudsters armed with fake papal pardons and bogus relics. Records held by the Corporation of the City of London dating back to the 15th century reveal several cases of "lying pardoners" being put in the stocks.

Good to see that the CotCoL records the punishments of such scoundrels. However, should the CotCoL require our services in the future they should not hesitate to contact us immediately! (I hope you are not suggesting in any way that CotCoL would do anything to require shrivings of any magnitude...Ed?)
Not in the least but in today's algorithmic, light speed financial markets it is always possible that software can have unintended consequences. At such pace speeding tickets should always be avoided!

Settled Will

It's over then?
For another year of so
Disappointed?
A wee bit.
Is it the wains?
Aye.
Going to be hard enough.
Aye, Gideon's no goin tae splash the bawbees aboot. No much couters candy either.
I would guess a certain amount of sporran squeezing will be the order of the day and the day after.
Do ye think if we had men the size of Maclean, Maxton and Reid we would have lost?
Aye. Where are they when you need them?
Deed!
Still I thought old Gordy did well.
Undeed!
See you the morra!
All's Weal that ends Weal!
Up to a point Lord Cameron, up to a point!

PurdahTory

Soon be over now chaps just a few more hours until the urns shut up shop.
In the meantime we would not want to be leaving you all in Libo, just to Labover the point.
Think of this as a test card like they used to have on the good old Beeb.

and something for you to read.

The Round House  by Louise Edrich and 5742 Days by Anne-Marie Cockburn.

A wise and thoughtful piece on you know what from the Grauniad on the day Andy Murray tweets allegedly for the proposition.
(Enough! I thought we agreed to say nothing if we can't agree...Ed)

Nothing!

Postcards from Purdah 5

Ever think about where all those shy and retiring animals go? The Yeti, snow leopard etc.
Spotted in Norfolk (Groan...Ed)

Postcards from Purdah 4

I thought I would share two lovely thoughts brought on by reading Helena Attlee's the Land Where Lemons Grow. On p83 she states that mandarins are "easy peelers" no suggestion, of course that the phrase could be used to describe a corrupt policeman! Also an event she claims  reported by Salvatino Bonacorso when Leonardo Sciascia is alleged to have walked out of a city council  meeting in  Palermo announcing that the city was irredeemable.

A fascinating book, hugely enjoyable (All I can say is it doesn't take much...Ed)
Do I detect a hint of bitter lemons or is that chinotto I see you are drinking?

Postcards from Purdah 3

Lynton Crosby, smoked.
Lynton Crispy?

Just a thought!

Postcards from Purdah 2 Holiday Reading

A few books for my shelves for a few weeks. They will have to be returned, of course.

Should keep me out of trouble.

Postcards from Purdah 1

As we sit here not quite in the garden of England, enjoying the late sun of an Indian Summer, reading about the Land  Where the Lemons Grow our thoughts turn Citrically to Nato and what would happen if our friends in the north were refused membership of the same on declaring independence. We have heard many views and seen much analysis including the suggestion that Norway and Iceland are unlikely to invade! However, I would be less sanguine about the Jaffas! Blood oranges I suppose.
(I thought you were in Purdah...Ed!)
Greetings from Purdah!

The McTavish Letter

Any resemblance to persons(real or corporate), places or things is entirely,fictitious, fortuitous and as such, is  a failure of the author's poor befuddled brain.
(As a husband, father and deeply religious person I am glad you covered our arses with that one...Ed.)

Dateline London 12 September 2014 15:30 BST
Deep in the bowels of Whitehall a lowly civil servant is scouting for a place for nefary. In a dusty corner of an unused office in a redundant building an envelope sits on an otherwise empty desk. It displays itself, coyly, provocatively, promising distraction to an aching heart and ungirded loins. It is addressed to a certain McTavish in some god forsaken part of the realm, probably as remote and dreek as it is unpronounceable.  The envelope, open and unsealed provides access to the letter within. To the practiced bureaucratic eye it quickly yields its burden. The letter is cover for the return of material strangely not enclosed but which is clearly detailed  and purports  to incriminate certain politicians north of the border in heinous crimes and misdemeanors; treason, spousal abuse, theft, animal husbandry, incest and Scottish Country Dancing are but a few of these horrors. The missive thanks the addressee for provision of this material but states that it would not be, in the national interest for the government to have said material in its possession at this time.

The covering epistle  bears a single letter as a mark of signature. (I take it that is not an X...Ed?)
No we are not talking military intelligence! The address of the sender is a Post Office Box - Whitehall 1212 - not identified further.  

The dutiful civil servant swiftly brings the letter to the attention of the powers that be, thus  shifting the monkey in the box as quickly as possible( but not before making an untraceable copy.) The powers that be, as might be expected, consider that accusations of eating babies, deep fried in batter, require extensive consultation and evidence gathering  before a draft report with proposals for an interim memorandum to the Cabinet Office,  copy of course to the Treasury, could be circulated.

In the fullness of time the news desks of various publications received communications, again from 50 untraceable sources which contained 19 digit numbers of bank accounts which would be in existence in exotic locations for the next 24 minutes. These offices could be used to deposit large sums of boodle and in exchange the originators would provide incontrovertible evidence, evidence of such magnitude, evidence in such depth  that  it would sink any campaign battle bus in a sea of mixed metaphors.

The money goes out, the evidence comes in and 2 countries, like 2 mature adults, consider that for the sake of the children they would be better off together.

I noticed that when I drew the attention of herself to a story on the BBC about a certain Mr Murphy being pelted with eggs recently her only comment was that it's a terrible waste of eggs.  This seemed like a sensible approach or deeply ironic or both.
I believed this to be the case thinking she does not have a pig in the race. However, at a later date she demanded to know of me if she would be entitled to a Scottish passport in the event of a yes vote!

I smell bacon.

Anyways, it might not be a bad idea for this blog  to go into purdah until the 18th so as not to unduly influence our friends in the north. (PAH...Ed!)

A Bawheidet Woman

I was listening to woman's hour the other day... (Phwat in god's holy name is this blog coming to. Supporting gay footballers and flying the, so called, Palestinian Flag next. Ed!)
I thought we might be hearing from you and if you are awake you might like to take a look at the last blog.
To continue... WH, I think it was the 28 July, was having a wee discussion about the independence of our friends in the north.
Nicola Sturgeon was having a heid to heid rammy with some numpty from the NO! I AM NOT SHOUTING campaign ... ( are you sure it is possible to describe a woman as a numpty?  Is it not demeaning, sexist and more importantly likely to get us in the sort of trouble which would seriously effect our cash flow ? Ed)
What cash flow?
To continue.. said numpty challenged Nicola with the obviously well rehearsed interjection...

But Nicola, you are trying to have your shortbread and eat it!

You can supply your own nasal whiny, faux indignant, numpty, Scots accent if you wish.
I had the thought.

That is it, in a tartan tin.

It is their shortbread and they are going to eat it!

A Bawheidet Man Looks at Scotland

A visit to Edinburgh and evidence of a previous claim made on this Blog. Evidence a friend suggested of a second Scottish Enlightenment. Well the words have been there for over 40 years to my knowledge!

And of course, ye ken

Yes up to a point Lord Cameron

Stereotypically naff.

And yes they are what you think they are and that is a hearse being pulled by horses in the background.
Not prophetic in any way I hope.

Vivian Maier, Found!

To the local filum theatre to see Finding Vivian Maier.
Boy that girl could take snaps and if you don't believe me take a look at her official website.
An intriguing story about a woman who combined being a nanny with being a street photographer. Most if not all of her work was unpublished in her lifetime.
The co-director of the film, John Maloof, comes across a cache of her photos and determines to find the person. The truth as we all know is seldom pure and never simple. The film left me with a feeling that Vivian was possibly a flawed, certainly complex but very, very talented individual!

Bee off with you

Another couple of books to tide us over a pretty wet bit (careful...Ed!)
First The Bees by Laline Paul.The Grauniad link gives a good flavour and don't be put off by the SciFi/Fantasy categorisation.
Second a more factual consideration of bees, bumble bees this time, A Sting in the Tale by Dave Goulson. Again I am indebted to the Grauniad for providing finger easing reference material, more time for reading and taking pictures of wee bees!

(I am concerned about the over use of a certain left leaning, organs of news and liberal propaganda. I am also concerned about the over specialisation on the minutiae of whatever takes your lepidopteran fancy. This blog stands four square as a mirror to society leaning neither to the left nor the right, offering opinion only on the basis of the tested evidence, sound judgement and a broad view of the world. Furthermore...Ed)

Buzz off!

Readers Lives

Sunk into two books recently, with considerable enjoyment, if that is the right word.  Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey
Very painful but very much worth the effort. As I may have mentioned before, the changing room at the pool where I swim has a polite little notice by the door, asking

- Have you forgotten anything?

I always feel an urge, so far resisted, to add - Yes, what's my name?
I have mentioned it before haven't I.

All the Birds, Singing. by Evie Wyld

We read this as part of the summer reads project.    We also had the real pleasure of hearing the author speak about her book at a very low key meeting in Bury Library. It was an enjoyable insight into her thinking and other readers' ideas. I regarded the book as a very good read before the meeting but the expansion and discussion gave me access to ideas and aspects that I hadn't even considered. Herself was intrigued to see the person behind the novel. Evie is  a very talented writer in addition she appears to be modest, thoughtful and quite open about the sometimes painful process of producing a text.
I would strongly recommend it and if you don't believe me then have a look!

More books - about Bees - to come! Now that will be interesting. (God Almighty! You just can't resist it can you. Here I was thinking that we had gone for a whole blog without one of those... dreadful... dreadful...Ed!)

Summer Fruits

What a pleasant summer this is turning out to be. We attended a convivial gathering in Norfolk of Oliver Bernard's family and friends. I'm sure he would have wished to be there had he not died just over a year ago. His son Joe told a lovely story delivering the punch line in a pitch perfect imitation of Oliver's lugubrious voice.
Oliver owed the doctor some money, £200, whatever, and old sawbones was most insistent on payment. He pressed Oliver increasingly for this despite the poor poet's protestations of payment in the future.  Eventually he pitched up on the doorstep with his demand and was greeted as Oliver opened the door with
    - I really must start eating an apple a day!

Those Pesky Books Again!

I suppose it is too damp to burn books in Florida.
Don't these bozos ever learn.
I like the response that Cory and his publishers are preparing.

Speaking of which our own dear Library, the sun in our hearts, our great book provider and beacon of mutuality has joined in the Summer Reads Project.  Lots of books, lots or reading, plenty to do to avoid any reference to the wORLD cUP of fOOTBALL, (You promised me you wouldn't mention it this year. What is wrong with a good game of shinty anyways...Ed?)

What a good idea!

The Grauniad economics blog comes up with a publication about Local Authority Pension Funds. Ok, no snoring at the back there. The Secret Wealth Garden is an argument about how to organise and deploy large amounts of moolah. I knew that would get your interest, especially when it could be your moolah! Now this is not an attempt on our part at BPinc moolah services to muscle in on the raft of ponzi schemes, hard luck stories by putative, wealthy Nigerians, activities of  the deregulated offshore tax dodging uber gougers, or other delights. Speaking of which the man on the Adam Smith Omnibus is pretty sniffy about it which is praise indeed and if I had not been around the block a few times might be sufficient recommendation. In any case here are a few wee flowers. Other gardens are available.

Books

I've been reading again. Not much else to do on a wet Bank Holiday. It's fun to have family and friends to visit and entertain  but you can't beat a good murder. The Murder of  Halland  by Pia Juul is a good read in its own right but as the linked reading guide indicates there is much more. I was struck by the grief. The book begins with a murder and How a Gunman Says Goodbye by Malcolm Mackay ends with a murder. Lots of terrible stuff in between. This last novel gives central Glasgow the feel of downtown Baltimore!

Treats

We have been traveling and socialising.

(No excuse for the absence of Blogging...Ed)

M'lud I offer evidence that the absence of Blogging is the Blogging of absence in the following...

(oh very good, very good, I see what you did there, point taken, carry on, my breath is baited... Ed) 

My god what with - English whisky. Is that not taking 'better together' too far.

A birthday treat. Angela Hewitt gave a lecture/recital at Cambridge where she is the Humanitas Visiting Professor of Music. I was entranced by the music, Bach, and her interpretations on the piano. Finished the evening with a meal at the Rice Boat. Well worth the trip!

More culture at the local flea pit which put on a digital broadcast from the British Museum around their exhibition of all things Viking.

To continue to Colchester for a book reading. A small bookseller, Red Lion Books.

Our friend Trish, of Patrician Press which we may have mentioned before, was reading with other authors. It was enjoyable and I'm only sorry I didn't get to buy a book but of course it is an excuse to go back. Over a convivial meal later Trish mentioned Food Fetish.    It had slipped my mind, and more importantly not found its way onto my book list. I downloaded it and so began a very enjoyable romp through food and drink.

I was, as a result, tempted/inspired to try to cook Yottams very simple dish/starter with filo pastry and asparagus. Baked with brushed egg and scattered with parmesan cheese and poppy seeds. As usual, we were short of an ingredient, poppy seeds so substituted nigella (seeds that is) and sesame mix. And as always with ingredients left over put mushrooms and parmesan in the filo parcels. Very enjoyable.

Horses and Sticks

Our beloved washing machine of many years service has been 'Pritted'
Phwatt, I hear you ask, is pritted when it is at home?
It has come to a sticky end. (Arrgh...Ed. Surely not original)
Are you jokin? Pelagerism is a dreadful cross I bear willingly!

In the meantime here is a nice snap of Jacob which we took on our  day out at the seaside!

A grand fellow, is he not?
could do with a few more like him, eh  Mr Ed...!

Gained in translation

Reading The Dark Valley by Valerio Varesi I came across a nice expression on p 118

They can't even find a wall to bang their heads against.

Clueless in Italian?

So  Maria Miller
Gee it's good to see yer
Doing the Vatican Rag.

That's another fine mess you got me in Posh Boy.
Anybody seen a wall?

Motor City

Why does anyone still live in Detroit?
An interesting question, thoughtfully explored in the Grauniad piece. (David Uberti extd.09:08 04/04/2014)  The pattern of development in the USA is much different, of course, and the underlying reality of class, race and economy so far from here. It couldn't happen here, right. Could it?

Subsidy Hoggs

A double whammy! Yes before I call down the wrath of Ed. for the cliche here is a conundrum for you to beat.
Not only do we not know the names,  faces,  inside leg measurements of the few, the happy few, the chosen few who got mates rates on the deal of the year - 'Brenda's Mail'  Delivering a Profit to One of 16 Investors Near You - but we do not know if these few, these favoured few...( all right we are well aware they could be Chums of Dave and Gideon. If this sentence goes on for much longer I want to argue for the return of capital punishment...Ed.) But we also  do not know if these investors avoided paying tax on the profit from disposal. I suspect it is possible. If you believe a certain, doughty, Ms Toynbee in  the Grauniad that sort of thing goes on and D and G do not appear to be doing much about it. 

As I have suggested before, why do we not have a cap on the total of tax allowances available to few, the chosen few, the douce wee hoggs that have their snouts in the trough! Far be it from me to suggest capping at the same level as the benefits cap but we are all in this together, are we not... Hello, anybody there?

Ho! Ho!

A Pinch and a Punch for the fist of the Month. I bring you tidings from the Grauniad.

Scotland to switch to driving on the right if independence given green light

And I have in ma hond a piece of paper  that details the plans of the perfidious Nats to invade San Serif in the event of a Yes vote. 

Nothing like trailing your coat around the school playground.

And while we are at it, I stayed up far too late  one night last week watching 13 Days.

So Shreck better get on the phone to Posh Boy and advise him of the intention of an Indie Scotlenad to 'Quarantine' Faslane.
I've gone all weak at the knees. It's the thought of Posh Boy pounding the lectern at the UN with one of his shoes, Gucci of course!
(That is blatant product placement! I edit an ethical blog and in the words of another great man of letters something up  with which I will not put...Ed)

Shelfies

Yes you heard it write in your minds eye. Shelfies. You may find an explanation there, or #shelfie if you are twitterate, or remain a sad bemused old codger much like myself! All this technologistics, tweets of the day, facepaint.... (there, there its surely time you had a cup of hot strong tea...Ed!) And another thing don't call me Sh...

Still the idea had me chuckling into my Ceylon when I saw this #books for prisoners.
I think I understand. My own contribution would be a book by Roger Cooper - Death plus Ten Years. As the author of the book confirms, the sentence was proposed to be served in reverse order!

Now I leave it up to you to decide on the secret shelfies of Posh Boy, Gideon, and the Old Grey Grayling!

Snaps

Mr Getty, who has a lot of snaps (35 million at the last count), has organised his holiday photos so that it is possible for us folk to use some of them in a non commercial way. Check it out here.

Not everyone would be pleased though I guess. Those on the beach with the big cameras and the donkeys to support; well you can imagine. Still there is no standing in the way of progress as your man said to the head scribe at the monastery in Gutenberg. 

Thanks to the old British Broadcasting Corporation for the story. I know I put the reference to it in my pocket somewhere. If you don't want to wait while I find it you could always use the Hypi thingy at the  story.

In the Pink

(Hello. Is there anyone there...Ed?)

In case you are  interested I am well and enjoying the spring air. I have been following the tail wind of this extraordinary world of ours and have to confess to being buffeted by the Beauforts, metaphorically speaking.

(I see that absence does not make the art grow stronger, nor the quality of the text even...Ed.)

The lads and lassies at Newsnight have a new team or a new configuration, though even in this world turned upside down The Great Bandiness, his holiness Pope Paxoid is still there of course but shuffling and new blood are in evidence. I was adopting the Newsnight Slump (this may become an olympic sport soon) when I noticed the sharp and investigative features of Emily Witless (isn't that Maitlis...Ed.) She was well wrapped up, it being a bracing spring day, in a voluminus pink garment which did not appear to possess itself of a volume control mechanism. Underneath said reporter, editor, correspondent, whatever there appeared the helpfull caption 'Will Hutton'.

Begod! I know with the certainty granted only to the pontif and then only when his holy backside touches the Cathedra of Faith that was not Will Hutton.

Your man would never be seen dead in such a shade of pink!

Flowers from an Island

A gift from an island, warm and pleasant. Very welcome at this time of storms and rain and confusion!

Common Currency

A letter from Dame Nichola Misfearsome, Comptroller General of BP Inc. to the Chair of BP Inc.

Dear Snooks,

I attach a spot of bedtime reading  by the bean counters and moolah wallahs about the attempt by our subsid. in the north, Salmo Enterprises, to up sticks, grab the boodle and go it alone!  You know how the M  Ws drone on if you let them so I suggest a stiff Glenbogle if you are not the least interested. In as much as I understand it (GCSE in woodwork 1959) I
passionately agree with its analysis and conclusions.

I know that our relations with the ungrateful bu**ers oop north have not always been of the best but a commercial relationship between different parts of a company is a bit like a marriage. We are the bread-winners, they do the cooking and the cleaning, and after a Friday night session at the club we come home a bit squiffy and... well. We've been screwing them for years and now they want out. They say they are happy to split liabilities as well as assets! I say go forth and multiply and empty your pockets before you do, thieving oiks!

Toodle pip.

Ever
Nickky xxx

Normal for Norfolk

You may have noticed headlines, strap lines and lines of waving locals with words similar to the following

...Norfolk, England Welcoming visitors since 1061

or similar date.

Extensive research by the Buddhist Pizza Reseach Institute (BPRI reg in Cayenne Islands, Charity  number 666) has unearthed a much earlier date for the County's first visitors. As a result and out of a deep respect for the denizens we offer the following as an amendation...

...Norfolk, England Welcoming visitors for over 900,000 years

 (Is it not usual at this point to pass some comment about the stasis in the gene pool or some such like...Ed)

Are you joking? I make occasional visits to the bloody place and have no intention of doing any such thing.

Snowdrops

We listened to Writing the Century, The Dock Nuremberg, a series of 5 dramas on BBC Radio 4 about the painting by Laura Knight which you can see here. Pretty strong stuff in its way. Apparently the US military police at the back of the dock who acted as guards in the trials were known universally as Snowdrops!

 An equally grey scene today when I took this snap of snowdrops at Anglesey Abbey. (The flowers that is, not MPs.

The National Trust has not been indicted for war crimes or crimes against humanity, yet!)

Famous in the Fens

I strode up to the bar where the curate was polishing a pint glass as if it was a Tibetan prayer wheel. He looked a queer kind  of a fellow even for this part of the fens.

-A glass of your finest Vichy Water your grace and whatever takes your fancy.

He looked half in a trance. Big white mutton chops adorned a chin that underbit a not unfriendly mouth. The eyes were more modestly protected behind merest gaps than any regulation burka. They picked up whatever light had crawled into that gloomy sort of a place and a glass appeared in front of me. I was surprised to see it full, a fine effervesence adorning its surface. A second glass was leisurely placed on the bar and a bottle of the finest holy water came uncorked to the curates hands. He raised the glass, half full, to his slightly sensuous lips after breathing the usual order of service in the resonant tones that I had half expected. I supplied the responsary as required quaffing more substantially than the celebrant.

-A civilised language to greet in but not one heard much in this watery kingdom.
-I have done with greetin in this language, my own or any other.

In as much as the acoustics allowed this statement to the body of the kirk boomed. I leaned in to the bar and with a discretion which ignored the empty room and claimed that I believed he had done a bit of translation before now -Ovid and -Beowulf to name but a few! He was taken aback. In as much as I could see his peepers they took on a guarded shift behind the old eyeslits.

-I wouldn't know too much about that.
-Ah man you're Famous after all, unmistakeably so. Well we all thought you dead. What is the problem, is it still the Jaffas, Al Caida, the Roosian Mafia trying to muscle in on the old poetry business?
-No. There was some trouble round about the time of the Nobel gong with the Sufis. Idris makes them out to be fun loving, easy come easy go guys, whirling away like dervishes but I know different. I know they are hard men, strictly dancing to a different tune and bearing a grudge tighter than a Jaffa holds on to his Billie Pot. No it was the wife and kids; a man can only take so much. Then there was the prospect of grandchildren and even great grandchildren. I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet after all these years.
-I know exactly what you mean. Haven't I said the same on occasions. A man like yourself though; a curate's work is not going to keep you, intellectually speaking.
- I have a few ideas and one or two projects on the go if you understand. Looking out on the water in the direction of  Scandinavia I see the big money is to be made in crime. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to join the ranks of those chased thither and yon by the DMP. No I was thinking of a verse thriller, taking as inspiration the human traffiking of women from Ireland in the 9th century. Those poor country coleens were famed for their storytelling abilities and brutally ripped from their communities to pour out sagas for the likes of Snorri the priest to scribble down in some traduction or other! Perhaps I've said too much.

  I realised that the moment had passed and that I had best be on my way. I patted myself down and gathered my accoutrements, such as they were. I was about to head for the door when that noble head leaned towards me and the chin made the universal gesture requiring the subject to draw near and offer a conspiratorial ear to the speaker.

-I trust I can rely on your discression and good judgement, pilgrim, as a matter of compassion if not professional courtesy.
-As I am an honest man, you have my word!

It was only when I was half way to the car that I realised I had left without making a contribution to the poor box! Ah well the secrets of the confessional come at a price, and Vichy is an expensive way to give yourself bother with the bag!

(Have you been at the Dalkey Archive again...Ed)

Books and Pictures

A few days ago I finished Nature's Engraver by Jenny Uglow.
It took some time, which might be me, however, I enjoyed it greatly. Of the many images 'The Corn-Crake' remains a favourite.
The bird is caught in the split second before launching itself into a dash for cover, a spearlike configuration of beak and bum! It is interesting to think that Bewick would have been driven half mad in early summer with the 'kreck, kreck'. Now we have to travel to the Inner Hebrides for our dose of May madness.

A visit to the Cotes museum in Bournemouth provides lots of visual stimulation

(Lots of Victorian paintings of young ladies with little else but a few whispy things attached. All in the interest of studying your Ancient Greeks no doubt...Ed)
Yes a picture did catch my eye and it was a representation of women -

Spanish Market Women at Bilbao by Eusebio Perez de Valleurca

Of course we do not know what they are saying but we do know what they are saying. The two figures we see to our left are
deep in sotto voce

I really, really love him!

Pobrecita! He's just like all the rest!

(Glad to see you back. Are you looking a bit peaky...Ed?)
Just a cold since you ask. Nothing a hot drink, warmth and an editor who is given to litotes won't cure!