Peaceful

 

Peaceful

It is a very peaceful Sunday afternoon. An occasional light aircraft bustles across the sky and birds call sleepily. No children are giggling and playing in their gardens. Maybe they’ve all gone away, the school holidays having started on Friday. Even the ice-cream vendors are silent, their jangling jingles mercifully absent.

Saturday afternoon was a different matter altogether. A helicopter buzzed and clattered above the trees, describing circles high and then low. Around and around it went, for what felt like hours, never hovering.

We established that it was a police helicopter and wondered if it was searching for someone. As with most of these occurrences, it is unlikely that we shall ever learn why it was circling. Local social media has not shed any light on it, though lots of people have had a merry time making ‘humorous’ comments.

I’m glad it wasn’t an air ambulance. We usually discover the reasons for those, especially if they’ve landed in the local junior school playing field, as incidents are reported in the local press.

Today, however, the sun shines gently, a soft breeze blows, butterflies dance in the warm air, and all is well with the world.

Testing, testing

 

Testing, testing . . .

 . . . the pool water.

                    Pretty colours, but are they the correct colours?

Limericks

Limericks have five lines and a rhyming scheme of AABBA. The first two and the last lines have eight to ten syllables each and rhyme together. The middle two lines have five to seven syllables and rhyme with each other.

Limericks first appeared in the early 18^th century. They were frequently men’s obscene humorous drinking songs. Their contemporary equivalent would probably be bawdy rugby songs. (Other sports may be included!)

The following is an anonymous limerick which is not coarse:

The limerick packs laughs anatomical

Into space that is quite economical,

But the good ones I’ve seen

So seldom are clean

And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

The next one is also anonymous and fairly innocent:

The thoughts of the rabbit on sex

Are seldom, if ever, complex;

For a rabbit in need

Is a rabbit indeed.

And does just as a person expects.

They were popularised in the 19^th century by Edward Lear, though his limericks were not lewd and were written and illustrated to entertain children. It’s easy to assume that most of the limericks that are heard were composed by him. That is the mistake I made about the young lady who rode on the tiger. It led me to wonder when the first limericks were written.

It has been suggested that St Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) wrote the first one in Latin in the 13^th century, though it seems to be more of a prayer than a joke.

Sit vitiorum meorum evacuatio

Concupiscentae et libidinis exterminatio,

Caritatis et patientiae,

Humilitaris et obedientiae,

Omniumque virtutum augmentatio.

It was translated approximately by Fred Hornaday (1973-present) as:

To circumvent brimstone and fire

Expelling unsav’ry desire

I piously pray

And devoutly obey

As my soul soars progressively higher.

James V. Schall, S.J. (1928-2019) was an American writer, philosopher, and teacher who wrote a limerick encapsulating the philosophy of Aquinas.

There once was a Jesuit knight

Who proved with his logic air-tight

That all of infinity’s

Touched by divinity

Starting with ‘Let there be light.’

This verse form was not known as limerick to Edward Lear. The name seems to derive from a parlour game played in Limerick in Ireland in which the refrain asks ‘Will (or won’t) you come up to Limerick?’

There is a plaque in Limerick, in County Limerick which says:

The Limerick is furtive and mean

You must keep her in close quarantine,

Or she sneaks up the slums

And promptly becomes

Disorderly drunk and obscene.

Writing limericks can be a lot of fun and there are many examples of different forms.

A H Reginald Buller (1874-1944) was a British Canadian botanist and mycologist who wrote the following famous scientific limerick called Relativity:

 There was a young lady named Bright,

Whose speed was far faster than light;

She set out one day,

In a relative way,

 And returned on the previous night.

Some writers set out to deliberately flout the ‘guidelines.’

There was a young man from Japan

Whose limericks never would scan,

And when they asked why,

He said, ‘I do try!

But when I get to the last line I try to fit in as many words as I can.’

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was an American writer and polymath, acclaimed as one of the finest writers of his day.

God’s plan made a hopeful beginning,

But man spoiled his chances by sinning.

We trust that the story

Will end in God’s glory,

But at present the other side’s winning.

To finish, here is a very clever limerick created by Leigh Mercer (1893-1977) a man who indulged in wordplay and puzzles.

 

 12 + 144 + 20 + 3√4/7 + (5 x 11) = 9²+ 0

It reads as follows:

A dozen, a gross, and a score

Plus three times the square root of four

Divided by seven

Plus five times eleven

Is nine squared and not a bit more.

Signs of darkening clouds?

 

Cumulus

We need rain.

One hibiscus flower (Hibiscus syriacus)

One lizard tail (Saururus cernuus)

Aspirations

 

Aspirations

Roxy with daintily crossed paws

This was going to be a short post, but sidetracking occurred as usual.

 I started by thinking about aspiration as ambition. Do we all, did we all have aspirations? Many young children have aspirations, inspired by who or what they see on television and the foibles and fancies of their peer group. Parents hope that their offspring will eventually realise that aspiration needs to be partnered with hard work and tempered by common sense. It’s no good longing to be a pop star if you have no rhythm and cannot sing. (That’s debatable . . . )

In many countries, aspiration relates to the strong puff of air accompanying consonants like ‘k,’ ‘p,’ and ‘t.’ As an example, in English, the initial ‘p’ in ‘pan’ is aspirated, but in ‘span’ it is not. The speaker may not register the breath out, but speaking the first word ‘pan’ close to a lit candle will make the flame flicker. The second, unaspirated word ‘span’ will not. In lieu of a flame, try speaking the words close to the palm of your hand and feel the difference.

Aspiration in English does not affect the meaning of the word, but in other languages, like Hindi, Mandarin Chinese, or Thai it may distinguish completely different words.

Medical aspiration refers to the usually accidental inhalation of fluid or a foreign object into the airway and lungs. This can lead to serious respiratory illness, though commonly it results in coughing, spluttering, watering eyes, and a red face. Medical treatment should always be sought in emergency.

There is also a medical procedure involving aspiration, in which fluid is drawn out of the body with a syringe for biopsies.

Roxy had aspirations last week. She is a Labrador, getting on in years, and becoming lumpy. This is a common occurrence in this    breed and usually signifies nothing of note. Nonetheless, aspirations were taken for biopsy to make sure that nothing sinister was happening. The results came back this week, and all is well. The lumps are all harmless lipomas.

A lipoma is a slow-growing, benign fatty lump. Lipomas can safely be left alone, to be removed surgically only if they are in a position that interferes with movement. However, they should be monitored regularly to track any changes.

People with lipomas may choose to have them removed for cosmetic reasons. Roxy has no such concerns.

 

Silver-washed fritillary

 

Silver-washed fritillary (Argynnis paphia)

This large butterfly flew into the sitting room on Monday morning, completed a couple of circuits and then fluttered out again. It then flew about as if looking for somewhere to perch and I wondered if it was looking for a place to lay its eggs.

The Silver-washed fritillary was named because of the silver streaks on the underside of its wings and is on the wing from late June to early August. It can be seen on heaths, moors, meadows, gardens, and in broad-leaved woods, particularly oak woods. It breeds in shady woodland in the south of England. 

 It is widespread in southern England and Wales and is seen more locally in northern England and Ireland. Though its population declined in the twentieth century it is not classed as endangered and is ‘of least concern.’ Numbers have increased during the first years of the twenty-first century.

Catspaw

 

Catspaw

Catspaw, sometimes called a catsclaw.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Catspaw is a name applied to a few things, apart from the obvious, of course.

It can be a light breeze on calm water which creates ripples, apparently. Barnacle Bill, who lives with me, had never heard or used the expression in his many years of sailing. Ah, well, learn something new every day.

For carpenters and those who want to attempt do-it-yourself tasks around the house, a catspaw is a heavy-duty metal tool with a V-shaped tip, which is used to extract nails from wood.  It is sometimes called a nail puller or a cat’s claw. Hammers which have a head with a hammering end and a V-shaped end are known as claw hammers.

 Claw hammer

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In the US, ‘cat’s paw liability’ refers to cases in which”a biased individual passes along negative information about a worker to an ‘unbiased’ decision maker. The ’unbiased’ decision maker then takes a negative action against the worker based on the information provided.”

In UK law an equivalent doctrine, though not known under the ‘cat’s paw liability’ states that “an employer can be held vicariously liable for an employee’s discriminatory dismissal, even if the actual decision-maker is completely unbiased.”

Perhaps the most common application of ‘catspaw’ is as an idiom for a person manipulated by another to do their unpleasant or dishonest bidding. It originates from a 15^th century fable which became famous in the 17^th century when recounted by the fabulist Jean de la Fontaine (1621-1695)

‘The Monkey and the Cat’ (Le Singe et le Chat) tells how Bertrand the Monkey persuades Raton the Cat that they can share the roasted chestnuts in the fire if Raton will scoop them out of the embers. Raton complies, but as he pulls out the nuts, Bertrand gobbles them up one by one and Raton receives nothing but burnt paws.

The fable is also the source of the expression, ‘to pull someone’s chestnuts out of the fire’ – that is, to undertake a hazardous task for someone else’s benefit.

 
The monkey and the cat painting, 1739, by Jean-Baptiste Oudry (1686-1755)

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 

Of cats’ claws

 

Of cats’ claws

When resting, a cat’s claws are sheathed in protective skin pouches. If a cat wants to climb or hunt, it flexes leg muscles to unsaddle or extend its claws.

Most cats, both domestic and wild, have retractable or sheathable claws. Hind paw claws are not always completely sheathed.

There are four exceptions to the retractability of cats’ claws. The first is the cheetah (Acinonyx jubatus), whose claws do not retract completely, giving it good traction when running.

The second is the endangered fishing cat (Prionailurus viverrinus) which has partially webbed feet and semi-retractable claws, allowing it to maintain its footing in muddy marshland. It is a strong swimmer and has been observed swimming underwater and catching waterfowl by the legs.

The third is the also endangered small Southeast Asian flat-headed cat  (Prionailurus planiceps). This cat lives mainly on fish it takes from rivers. It plunges its head into the water and uses its front paws to feel for prey in the shallows.

The last is the rare and critically endangered Iriomote cat (Prionailurus bengalensis iriomotensis) found only on the island of Iriomote, in Japan. It is closely related to the leopard cat.

Cats usually have eighteen claws, four on each hind paw and five, including dew claws, on the front paws. Some breeds, notably Maine Coons and Pixie-bobs, are polydactyl, meaning they have more toes than usual. Their ‘mitten paws’ may have any number from four to seven toes on each paw. Polydactyly usually occurs on the front paws, and it is rare for it to appear on all four limbs.

Sailors prized polydactyl cats, believing them to have superior balance, climbing, and mousing ability. They were thought to bring good luck. In the 1930s a ship’s captain gave Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) a white cat with six toes. She was called Snow White and Hemingway was enchanted by her, and the litters of kittens she bore. Because of his great affection for polydactyl cats, they are frequently referred to as Hemingway cats.

 At the Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum in Key West, Florida, there is a colony of about sixty cats, many of whom are descended from Snow White. Hemingway started a tradition of naming the kittens after famous people, like Pablo Picasso, Audrey Hepburn, Clark Gable. The Museum continues the tradition today.

No matter how many claws a cat may have, it will shed the outer sheaths at regular intervals. The claws are made of keratin, like human hair and nails, and develop in layers from the inside out. Cats scratch to remove the outer layer every two to three months. Our stair carpet bears witness to this activity, and ‘ghost’ claws can be seen frequently.

Sleeping cats on a hot afternoon

 

Sleeping cats on a hot afternoon

Herschel snores very loudly

Leonardo da Vinci said, ‘The smallest feline is a masterpiece,’ while Oscar Wilde wrote ‘Cats are put on earth to remind us that not everything has a purpose.’ 

There was a young lady of Niger

Who smiled as she rode on a tiger;

They returned from the ride

With the lady inside,

And the smile on the face of the tiger.

                                        William Cosmo Monkhouse (1840-1901) 

Our cats are limp with heat, stretching full length on cool surfaces, dreaming and twitching in their sleep.

A butterfly fluttered into the sitting room on Saturday morning. It flew aimlessly round the room, failing to find the patio door by which it had entered. Eventually, it flew too close to the floor, where Jellicoe was sitting. He promptly captured it. There was nothing left to identify, so it can only be assumed that it made a small snack for an alert cat.

De mortuis

 

De mortuis

When a person dies who is a well-known personality and has spent much time in the public eye, it is commonplace for remarks to be made. Supporters of the dead person will say pleasant things, while those who disliked the person, their principles or their values may find their feelings so enlivened or enraged that they will make egregious comments.

Ann Widdecombe, a strong-willed and outspoken UK politician, was murdered in her home two days ago. Already the knives are out in some quarters. That is despicable, for, as some would say, ‘She’s not even cold in her grave yet.’

‘Do not speak ill of the dead’ is a cautionary advice. It suggests that respect should be given to all, certainly immediately after death, for the dead person cannot defend him or herself. It is also intended to try to ensure that surviving family and friends are spared yet more pain and grief following the death of a loved one.

When a decent interval has passed, however that may be defined, criticism may be expressed.

Everyone has been born human, with all the frailty and ill-judgements we all can exhibit. Everyone is a son or daughter, perhaps with friends to admire and love us. Some will arouse dislike, disapproval, contempt, even hatred, maybe without justification, but the caution remains.

The aphorism is a loose translation of the Latin ‘de mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est’ which originated with the 6^th century Greek philosopher, Chilon of Sparta, one of the Seven Sages of Ancient Greece.

Earlier and earlier

 

Earlier and earlier

In a bid to enjoy the freshness of the morning and give the dogs a chance to stretch their legs before the heat sets in, we have been getting up earlier and earlier. Consequently, we are going to bed while there is still much light still in the sky.

That makes me feel like a child again, lying in bed listening to the birds, while other people are still up and about. It makes a pleasant change, though the day seems curiously truncated, with 3:00 pm feeling as though it’s five hours later.

This morning, we were up – I was going to say ‘bright and early’, but it transpired that some of us weren’t as awake or aware as others. Barry disappeared downstairs to make coffee and then reappeared a short while later. He had put his trousers on over his pyjamas. It wouldn’t have mattered, really, as they were pyjama shorts, and no-one would have known. He just felt he didn’t actually need the extra layer.

In other world-startling news, my elderly ‘for the time being’ laptop which was pressed into service has been replaced by my newly repaired computer, the one with the pretty LED lights.

 As it is now effectively a new machine, everything has had to be reinstalled. The hunt for passwords and other verifications has been long and trying. Tempers have occasionally been shorter than they should have been, but now, all is well. We just had a brief hiccough with the bank, which initially refused to recognise the new/old/new machine, but that has been resolved, too.

Just one or two things still to deal with . . . shouldn’t take long . . . oh, those weasel words!

 

More pretty vegetables

 

More pretty vegetables

Sweetstem cauliflower is sometimes marketed as Caulilini cauliflower.

The commonest variety is green and white, but there are other varieties which are purple, lime-green, or orange. The purple colour is natural and comes from anthocyanins, the antioxidants which also occur in blueberries, blackberries, blackcurrants, and red cabbage, among others.

Eaten raw or lightly steamed, it is a delicious addition to any meal.

The roof

 

The roof

We are delighted and relieved in equal measure with the work that has been completed on our roof. It was in a truly dreadful state. It looked fine on the surface, from ground floor looking up, but a cursory inspection soon showed that all was not well. A closer look revealed the dreadful truth.

It’s hard to believe that a week ago we had no inkling of what was about to be undertaken. Now, many £££ later, we are advising all and sundry to make sure they have a roof inspection at regular intervals. We have never been advised to do so, and it would seem a sensible thing to insist upon under house insurance renewal guidelines.

Looking online, I see that the advice is to have a house roof that is older than 25 years professionally inspected annually. Ours was 75 years in parts, and 50 on later extensions. Roofs on houses newer than 10 years can usually be left for three to five years. Obviously, if there appears to be a problem, it’s wise to seek advice.

At one point there were ten men scurrying around at dizzying heights. The weather was favourable for the work, in that it was dry, but it was very warm.

We shall be writing a glowing review for the company that carried out the work. We were shown videos and photographs of conditions and progress at all stages and given information and technical terms that we shall never need again – valleys, drip trays, and bird guards being just three.

In addition, when the scaffolders were erecting the scaffolding on Monday, they braced hard against our neighbour’s wall. She happened to be in her lift and the whole thing juddered. She was momentarily frightened and worried that the lift would malfunction and she would be stuck. Our builder apologised to her and cleaned the moss off her roof and did one or two other little jobs for her, free of charge.

Everything was executed efficiently and the whole area tidied up on completion of the work. We cannot fault them.

Now, when the rains come and the winds howl, we shall shelter inside our weatherproof house, poor but dry.