Read LitHum at Balliol. Former Lecturer in Classics at Merton. Honorary Research Fellow at Dept of Greek and Latin, UCL. Solicitor (nowadays non-practising). Fellow, Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics. Gay. š³ļøāš https://www.ucl.ac.uk/classics/simon-pull
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I read a Fred Vargas short story the other week involving a bloke who sat on the pavement opposite Commissaire Adamsbergās window. But he sat not on the flagstones but in an armchair and under a standard lamp that he had also brought with him. He lacked only this tree. Yes, a thousand stories ā¦
Goodness! Where had that been skulking all year?
King David and King Solomon Had merry merry lives With many many concubines And many many wives; But when old age came over them With many many qualms King Solomon wrote the Proverbs And King David wrote the Psalms.
One does like a witty badge. But an illiterate one? Not so much.
So, EDL/Reform types put the George Cross onto bollards and others cleverly turn them into Battenberg cakes.
I read this as āDemosthenes.ā At least that would make some kind of sense.
I dropped into Tesco. I noted that they are doing all in their power to see that Christmas not sneak up on us unannounced.
The things that one is apt to see While strolling next the River Lea
It has a long reach, doesnāt it? As you know, there are some old Holborn signs kicking about that part of London. But not many, alas. I like the old county names, too ā¦ š
š¤£ We are encouraged to think that, on the whole, machine translation is quite good these days. Iāve seen some. Itās true. Some of it is. But this? Sheesh!
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I do like these old(ish) London Borough of Camden street signs. If it was older, it would just say WC without the digit.
This from a baby-changing installation in a loo in polyglot Bloomsbury. nullam incomitata puer Seriously? Either this is not Latin or else someone whose Latin is better than mine will be along to parse it for me.
I had not before today clocked that Al-Saqi had closed their lovely bookshop in West London. Along with the grievous loss of Al-Hoda from Charing X Rd about 10 years ago, this really puts the tin lid on the loss of secular Arabic book selling in London. themarkaz.org/end-of-an-er...
Out for a walk on Hampstead Heath. Lots of lovely dogs. I have a mental image of the meeting. One asks: āDo we ALL have to be wearing neckerchiefs?ā
Not quite a Waterloo sunset. But pretty impressive all the same. Salmon Lane E14. Taken on my walk yesterday.
Captain Striker: You are a Time Lord. Can there be lords in so small a domain? The Doctor: In which domain do you operate? Captain Striker: Eternity. The endless wastes of eternity.
If youāre a certain age, you see this car and you think, āBet Lynch!ā
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Just received this tiresome piece of spam. Itās a new one on me. At all events, beginning with āDadā was never going to get my attention. I really am sure that I have no children.
Had I not been so much in need of the loo, I should never have stopped at that filthy East End dive masquerading as a pub. A band was practising - as in practising iniquity. Loudly. Ear-splittingly. Made thrash metal sound like Vivaldi. If Hell has a soundtrack, I have had a foretaste of it.
Along with the antibiotics, the writer might want to think about getting a dictionary.
One imagines Watson and Holmes out for a walk. They come upon this singular assemblage of objects. Watson thinks it random. Holmes sees at once that it was left there by a former builder-turned-arsonist whose tastes have now turned to fags and junk food.
God bless the National Trust. At Berrington Hall they have a rather good dressing-up box. 1/
A man named Pentecost is found high and ābabblingā in a small upper room. Is this not as clear an instance of nominative determinism as weāre ever likely to find? www.bbc.co.uk/news/article...
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Euh, ben, pour vous autres les franƧais, cāest bien normal, non?
I would describe it as, āFuck off and die - only make sure first youāve given us the long card number, expiry date, and the three digits on the back.ā
Hereās something I just put on Facebook. Itās not just hiring thatās like this. Dealing with garages is rather similar. Itās almost always blokey blokes with a tough manner that is meant to make you feel on the wrong foot. Do they practise in front of a mirror?
A peculiar pairing. Much Wenlock, Shropshire.
I took a nice long walk this afternoon along Wenlock Edge. Naturally I paused to recite Poem XXXI from A Shropshire Lad. The wood was not in trouble. The Wrekin was not heaving his forest fleece. But the tree of man was still unquiet.
Note to self: Hay-on-Wye? Vaut pas le dĆ©tour. Go to Wigtown in Scotland instead. Far better shops. Much less pretentious. Thereās a definite ācrystalā vibe in Hay-on-Wye ā¦
I gather today is International Left-Handersā day. I had missed this. I got stick at school for being left-handed. My mother, not otherwise known for being a champion of difference, waded in and told them to cut it out. Kudos to her for that. Joy to fellow left-handers.
The outer wall of the Round Chapel at Ludlow Castle. One thing that happens here is that people get married. This pigeon has a view. āNice outfit. Shame if anythinā was to āappen to it. Yeah, of course I take contactless.ā
There is a cafe near us called Mandala. Run by Buddhists. Pet philological peeve du jour: the pronunciation mƦnĖdaĖlÉ with middle vowel like āaaaahā. There are no long vowels here. And the accent is on the first syllable. [So: ĖmÉɳÉÉlÉ] Thank you for your attention.
How splendid!
Lucky you! I went to Mark Farrellyās recent revival of his one-man show āJarmanā. Fantastic. I think he really did manage to get across how creative, alive, fierce, and thoughtful Jarman was. Iāve read Modern Nature more times than I can recall and recognized Jarmanās voice inspiring Markās.
Fortunately (I think) my visit to this lavatory did not involve meeting any bandits and so I did not need to activate the bandit alarm. Still, I daresay it could be handy if bandits were suddenly to materialize. One thinks of the unfortunate Mr Samgrass.
Is this the zoo that had an unwanted giraffe called Marius? They gave him a bowl of food, waited for him to bend down, and shot him in the head. And filmed it. Then the vet did a public autopsy as a kind of spectacle. Dressed up, of course, as āpeople need to know how life isā. Such do they make it.
My friendās situation has much improved. All being well, he might be discharged this weekend. Thank you to all who engaged with this.
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I came across this today. God, I wish I hadnāt. It belongs, appropriately enough, to a genre apparently known as brainrot. The description seems entirely apt. youtu.be/TZAdoZy6y34?...
If you are the praying kind, please pray for a friend of mine undergoing serious surgery tomorrow morning. (No names, no pack drill.)
Garp bites dog.
It now turns out that he is on first-name terms with Jordan Peterson. WHY does that not surprise me?
I am seated alone in a restaurant between two other tables. To my left are two people talking. I canāt hear their talk. To my right four people, of whom one is American. EVERYONE can hear him. No stereotypes, but he is not the only one of his countrymen with, er, volume issues.
Once more, dear friends, I find myself on board a train with only standard class accommodation. Some time ago, standard became a euphemism for āmehā. (Just as regular apparently means āsmallā in the world of coffee.)
Elated I got to The White Bear Theatre in Kennington to see Mark Farrelly performing his fantastic āJarmanā about the sainted Derek. His performance was off-the-scale wonderful: his verbal wit, his physical energy, his verve for art and life. I thought of these lines that Jarman used in Blue:
www.oxfordmail.co.uk/news/2533815...
Who remembers Harry Worth? He died OTD in 1989. I used to love the beginning of his show when he would do this thing with the shop window.
There was a young fellow named Perkins Who was mightily fond of his gherkins One day for tea He ate forty-three And pickled his internal workinās.
š I do like Mary Ward. I was sorry when they left that splendid building in Queenās Square, Bloomsbury. But glad they still exist.
A spare copy of this. I like to have spare copies of much-used volumes. I bought my first at Thorntonās in Oxford for Ā£3.50 in the 80s. This one cost Ā£15 plus delivery. Not too bad an increase given almost 40 years have passed. Ford adds some revisions not in Mayrhoferās original.
I think I could divine that this means āYour head is at risk.ā But what, precisely, is the peril? It looks like some kind of machine tool is going to saw the top off your skull.
Excellent!
I still get a rush of childlike glee when a package arrives from a bookseller abroad. This one must be round your way, @olawikander.bsky.social Alas the modern tendency to frank everything means that pretty clusters of stamps are mostly a thing of the past.
I canāt believe that itās over 20 years since I saw Jamie Parker and Sam Barnett as part of a luminous cast in The History Boys at The Lyttleton. It was a wonderful theatrical moment. And clearly enduring friendships were forged. youtu.be/Jt669YYWYiY?...
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A nice lady on the (infernally hot) bus (I ought to have walked) was visiting London and asked, sensibly, if she needed to tap out on leaving. I said not. You risk paying more. I could see her (wisely) weighing up my credibility. In the end I said, āTrust me. Iāve lived here for 25 years.ā She did.
This is a nice advert for the Elizabeth Line. I hope itās on other lines, where there is even less space and man-spreading is thus even more opprobrious.
I just stopped for a cold drink at a pub in Bloomsbury. People came in later, bought drinks, went upstairs. They quickly came down, reporting that the radiators were on. Itās only 31C outside. The staff said they would turn them off. Iām sure thatās a start. But ā¦
Upon seeing this ā¦ I think of this. Specifically the line where The Bride says to Hattori Hanso, āI need some Japanese steel.ā She is not disappointed.
Goodness. Almost 40 years ago! Ashland Place, W1.
Iām no expert but I wouldāve got a person to do it.
Yes. Itās the old question: How many people need to say a thing before it is āa thingā. My late mother called the microwave āthe pingā.
I believe this is what we call in linguistics an artefact.
I was talking to a friend about Welsh popty (oven) [which is a word, see below] and how satisfying it is that itās cognate with the Greek peptos (cooked > digested) that we find in dyspeptic. Also, of course, cuisine, cucina and the rest. All this from Proto-Indo-European pekw-.
The Regentās Canal affords many delights. This is one of them.
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A French delegate at a meeting with British engineers planning the Channel Tunnel: āMessieurs, this tunnel design of yours will work perfectly in practice. That is all very well and good. But what about in theory, eh?ā
āLearning a language really unlocks the understanding of another cultureā, Minister of State for School Standards Catherine McKinnell joined us at this yearās Sommerfest at the German Embassy where we celebrated German language & culture.
Am I the only person who finds that the Substack app repeatedly crashes on iPhone and keeps having to be reinstalled?
Finally. A prestigious degree awaits me.
Not chonky: phenomenal! youtu.be/2rOjt2h1Gr8?...
youtu.be/XNXZTIpz5fk?...
And the temporary closure of the Wilkins Cloister deprives us of another lovely space in a fantastic building. Itās like a dream where you visit a house you once lived in but itās all subtly different. Again, Iām sure it will be worth the wait. Vivat UCL. (And I like the pink.) 2/
Quomodo sedet sola civitas ā¦ The main quad at UCL will look lovely when itās done but it grieves me to see it looking like this. Itās such a glorious space, especially in summer. 1/
Does this mean they only sell falafel (Germanic take)? Or that these are the very falafels of light (somewhat hyperbolic Arabic take)?
Thank you!
Anyone recognize this customer? Seen today in the Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, London. It was one of a pair.
From FB
I do hope you will soon be on the mend.
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www.theguardian.com/environment/...
š¤ I was maybe thinking of nightingales in Berkeley Square. I am clueless about the natural world. We learned at school that aubĆ©pine = hawthorn but I wouldnāt recognize one in the flesh. We also learned that nightingale = rossignol but je suis Ć©galement un grand nul en ce qui concerne les oiseaux.
I was thinking the same. I am in East London. So no nightingales; theyād all be too brutalized to open their mouths. But everything else. I am in a charming pub where the windows fold away and the breeze is perfect. Itās about 26C.
Yes. One of my mentors said that, when asked how a particular drive had gone, he replied, āNot much happened!ā To which his teacher said, āYes. Thatās because youāve made anticipation second nature.ā One also has to anticipate oneself of course. We all have the potential to mess up badly.
Good! One reflects soberly that, even 100 years ago, the outcome would likely have been very different.
š¢ That must have been very alarming and must be a complete pain as you wait for the abx to clear your system. Hope youāre soon back to usual.
Exactly. Here The System (developed in the 50s) calls for, in this order: Information, Position, Speed, Gear, Acceleration. The first stage pervades the others and is made up of TUG: take, use, give. I had a session last year at Thruxton track driving my Toyota round at 90mph - but systematically!
Just spent 10 minutes at bus stop. Of the cars driving by, fully 95% of drivers had one or both hands off the wheel. About 20% were texting. This isnāt some counsel of perfection. Thereās a reason for using two hands. I know. Iāve had the advanced training from police folk. š¤·
Spotted in Carlisle. Theyāre a long way from home. Either that, or locals have finally despaired of the NHS and are reaching farther afield for help.
I do love a good wyvern.
OK. So ā¦ I am on a train that has NO First Class accommodation.
Well, everybody loves a sailor.
