Panice

 

Panice

Panisses

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I kept writing ‘panice’ instead of ‘panic’ in yesterday's post. Maybe it’s because my name is Janice and I’m accustomed to writing ‘e’ following ‘c.’ 

So, I looked up Panice. It is an Italian family name for a supplier of millet, just as Cooper is a maker of casks and vats, and Smith is a person who works with metal.

Panice is also an alternative spelling of panisse, which is a French street food popular in Provence. It is made from chickpea flour and fried in olive oil until golden on the outside and soft in the centre.

Panisse was introduced to Provence by Italian workers from neighbouring Liguria, where is it known as panissa or panelle. It is particularly popular in Nice and Marseilles, traditionally eaten sprinkled with salt and pepper and accompanied by a glass of wine.

Image source

Panic!

 

Panic!

I was in a terrible panic this morning. I needed to be out of the house in a matter of minutes, but could only find casual clothes, not the sort suitable for the day ahead. In addition, the house door into the garage was ajar, and the garage door itself was open, so I didn’t immediately know whether the cats were in or out. They don’t go into the front garden because it’s not safe for them. Luckily, I saw them sauntering into the kitchen, so that worry was set aside.

I managed to find some clothes, though they were far from smart, but now I was dreadfully worried that I was going to be late. Barry was flapping around in the background, wanting to help but not knowing how.

Then I woke up.

What a relief. It took me a few minutes to realise I had been dreaming and that I wasn’t having to get to work.

It took me about twenty years to stop having bad dreams about exams I had to pass. How long will it be before nightmares about getting to work on time cease to trouble my slumbers?

Cowes Week 2026

 

Cowes Week 2026

Cowes Week commenced on Saturday. It is the largest sailing regatta in the world, packing in forty races a day across thirty to forty different classes.

2026 marks the 200^th year of this gathering of sailors and boats old and new. There are more than 630 yachts taking part and crews’ members total more than 5,000. Some classes of boats, like the X One Design (XOD) class, are more than 100 years old. Designed by Alfred Westmacott in 1901 and raced for the first time two years later, the XOD is a 21-foot wooden boat, made from mahogany. The prototype, Mistletoe, was built at St Helens on the Isle of Wight and can now be seen at the National Maritime Museum in Falmouth, Cornwall.

It is a wonderful sight to see a fleet of yachts jostling for space prior to crossing the start line at the beginning of a race. Those who cross the line too soon pay a penalty by having to restart.

 Black sails have become popular in recent years. Made from carbon fibre, they are the strongest material in modern sailmaking. They are lightweight and do not stretch in heavy winds, so they are a good choice for racing yachts.  However, nothing beats a flotilla of boats with white sails beating across the water like a flock of sea birds.

Competitors come from all over the world.

Seven days of racing allow professionals and amateurs to mingle on the Solent doing what they enjoy most. Some boats are carefully maintained vintage craft, while others are modern builds with the latest technology and crews of highly trained and competitive athletes.

This year, conditions look good. In fact, the first races were delayed because of a lack of wind. In other years, the weather has been atrocious, with lashing rain and howling gales. There is no knowing months in advance what will face a yachtsman during Cowes Week.

 

Of mice and men

 

Of mice and men

Hickory, Dickory Dock,

The mouse ran up the clock;

The clock struck one,

The mouse ran down,

Hickory, Dickory, Dock.

This nursery rhyme has been sung and chanted to children since about 1744. It is thought to have had its origins in chants used for counting out players from a game, rhymes like ‘one potato, two potato’ or ‘eeny meeny miny moe.’

It has a simple and repetitive rhythm, much like the ticking of a clock. At the beginning, the mouse runs up the clock. When the clock strikes the hour, the mouse runs down again. Some longer versions number all the hours, with actions to suit the words.

Hickory, Dickory Dock,

The mouse ran up the clock;

The clock struck two,

The mouse went ‘boo,’

Hickory, Dickory Dock,

 

One version, on reaching twelve says:

Hickory, Dickory Dock,

The mouse ran up the clock;

As twelve bells rang,

The mouse he sprang,

Hickory, Dickory, Dock.

In another version, at the twelfth hour, the clock asks the mouse why he is running away. The mouse replies that he fears the clock.

Hickory, Dickory Dock,

‘Why to scamper?’ asked the clock;

 ‘You scare me so,

I have to go!’

Hickory Dickory Dock.

The rhyme is associated with the 15^th century Exeter Cathedral Astronomical clock in England which is believed to be its source and inspiration. The clock shows the hour, the day and the moon’s phase. Below the clock face there is a door leading to the room that houses the clock mechanism.

Exeter Cathedral Astronomical 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 The animal fat used to grease the mechanism attracted mice, so in the late 16^th century Bishop William Cotton paid carpenters to cut a circular hole near the bottom of the door. This allowed his cat access to keep the clock free of rodents.

 

                                 The door leading to the clock room 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

 

 

Nostalgia

 

 

Nostalgia

L.P. Hartley opened his 1953 novel, ‘The Go-Between’ with the words, ‘The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.’ Set in the late Edwardian period, the book explored the differences in moral, class, and sexual attitudes and those of the mid-20^th century.

The past may indeed be a different country, for the memories we hold are not always accurate. They are coloured by what has happened in the time since, and sometimes they are not personal memories but acquired from others through their repetition of recollections.

Recently, I have found several blog writers exploring and remembering the past. Whether it was books, or food, or friends, or games, each memory was recounted with pleasure, with nostalgia.

Nostalgia is usually defined as a longing for the past. It is compiled from two Greek words, nóstos meaning homecoming, and álgos meaning grief. It was first used in 1688 to describe the intense homesickness afflicting Swiss mercenaries fighting far from home. So seriously was it taken that it was regarded as an illness requiring treatment.

It has since developed into a description of the emotion many experience as a wistful affection for the past. The reminiscences may be melancholic, but often they are pleasant. Nostalgia is mistakenly believed to be the province solely of older generations, but I have heard young children saying, ‘Do you remember?’ and recounting events inspired by a song, a film, a photograph.

The past was a different country, a different time, when the future beckoned and life was an unknown mystery to be unravelled. It was not always a golden time, and for some it may have been painful, but in retrospect it seemed simpler and more enjoyable. Pleasurable experiences overcome and overwhelm those which are sadder, I find.

My infant school days are hazy. Mainly I remember learning to read, looking at the final pages of a book and wondering if I would ever be able to read them, and the older boys in the playground peeing over the wall, vying with each other to reach the greatest height.

At Junior school, I remember playing two balls against the wall, skipping games, collecting things, ‘pax,’ chase, a tin of cocoa powder and sugar to dip a finger into. I remember a teacher who had a clear favourite (and it wasn’t me!) and another gentle teacher who had time for everyone. I remember the outside lavatories, which for some unknown reason were called ‘the offices’ and they seem wrapped in a hazy mist of fond memory though in reality they were freezing cold in the winter and smelly in the summer. Older girls (only girls in this school) were allowed to make tea for the teachers. Health and Safety would be appalled at the thought now.

Books were precious gifts to be devoured, ears deaf to the outside world. On reaching the end, I would start again at the beginning – Black Beauty, What Katy Did, Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, My Friend Flicka, The Wind in the Willows, The Water Babies, Winnie-the-Pooh, Alice in Wonderland, The Little Prince, and so many more – they opened my eyes and my heart to a wider world. Today’s children’s classics would be rather different, I think and would include authors like Michael Morpurgo, Lynne Reid Banks, Jacqueline Wilson, Joan Aiken, Roald Dahl, Jill Murphy, among others.

Food was important, of course. Roast on Sunday, mince on Monday, cottage pie on Tuesday, semolina pudding, sometimes with jam, crumpets on a toasting fork in front of the fire, chicken once a year at Christmas (and later, at Easter), to be pulled and plucked before cooking.

Cold sheets in winter, shivering with my feet tucked up in my nightdress, to wake to Jack Frost’s artistry on the inside of the window. Hot, sticky summer nights, shoulders sore from a day at the beach. Long days walking in the countryside on my own, picking wild strawberries or damsons, or swimming at the open-air baths, eating bread and butter sandwiches with crisps when I was hungry.

Grammar school brought different experiences and the dawning realisation that not everyone was pleasant and kindly disposed. Dealing with spiteful pubescent girls, finding my way through friendships, learning who to trust. Adolescence is a lonely time for most young people, I think.

 I would not go back, even if that were possible. I look at the younger people I know and wish them strength of will, persistence, self-belief, and happiness.

L.P. Hartley's friend Lord David Cecil used the phrase, ‘The past is a foreign country’ in 1949 in his introductory lecture as Goldsmith's Professor of English Literature at Oxford. That may have been the inspiration for the title of his book. 

Cartoons

 

Cartoon

The concept of a cartoon originated in the Middle Ages (a blanket term for the period lasting from the 5^th to the late 15^th centuries) It described a preliminary drawing on strong card for works like stained glass windows, frescoes, tapestries, or some other form of artistic expression.

The cartoon, from the Italian cartone or the Dutch karton for strong paper or pasteboard, is a full-size drawing. In practices like weaving, the cartoon is given to the weaver as a chart or guide for the work to be produced.

For frescoes or paintings, pinpricks can be made along the outlines of a design. Then coloured powder (originally soot was used) is dusted or ‘pounced’ over the cartoon to leave precise dotted guidelines.

Cartoons by Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael are greatly prized masterpieces.

Jan Yoors working on a cartoon for a tapestry now in the J.P. Morgan art collection

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commos

In its common modern usage, cartoon has two main meanings. The first refers to a drawing or caricature, often of a prominent figure. Caricature was first used in early 17^th century Italy. It is known for exaggerating notable features of its subjects. The concept of caricature was introduced to 18^th century England by rich aristocratic young men returning from the ‘Grand Tour,’ which was intended to complete their education.

Modern cartoons satirise political personalities or ‘celebrities’ and often refer to recent pronouncements or faux pas. Others are used in comic strips, like Garfield or Tottering-by-Gently.

The second main meaning of cartoon attaches to a series of animated images like SpongeBob SquarePants or Paw Patrol.

Artists producing comic strip or other non-animated cartoons are called cartoonists. Those producing cartoon films are known as animators. All have particular talents and idiosyncratic styles.

Sometimes

 

Sometimes

                 ‘Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits.’

In the evening, after the heat of the day has abated, Herschel trots into the garden and sits on an old wooden chair and gazes at the world. He seems half-asleep, but woe betide any little creature that catches his eye.

As soon as we call ‘Cats, cats, cats!’ he strolls in leisurely fashion along the garden path and then sits on the step outside the open patio door, waiting to be enticed in with ‘Treats?’

Meanwhile, Jellicoe sits on the bridge over the pond and is usually very quick to abandon his post and return indoors. Last evening, however, although he was discussing it with us, he refused to budge until he was offered some freshly cooked chicken and then he was in like a bolt from a gun.

‘Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits’ has been attributed to Winnie-the-Pooh and it suits his personality, but it was not coined by A.A. Milne. 

William Gunning King (1859-1940), the British cartoonist, had a similar caption on a cartoon in Punch on 24th October 1906. The cartoon showed an old countryman and a vicar's wife. She asked him how he passed the time now he couldn't get about and the man replied with, 'Well, mum, sometimes I sits and thinks and then again I just sits.'

‘Punch, or The London Charivari’ was a British magazine of humour and political satire, which was published weekly almost continuously from 1841 to 2002. The Mr Punch puppet from Punch and Judy, was chosen as the magazine’s mascot.

William Gunning King was a painter and illustrator and was described as ‘a vigorous illustrator of rural life.’ He was commissioned to produce a painting to be used as an advertisement for ‘Bibby’s Animal Feed Company’ in Liverpool (now Bibby Agriculture).

Cattle feed advertisement for J. Bibby and Sons

 The company management claimed, ‘Nobody had a better eye for a cow than Gunning King,’ but Gunning King also painted other farm animals and rural farming scenes.

In a period of thirty years, to earn a living, he painted about 300 pictures for Bibby’s, who were one of Gunning King’s many patrons.

In 1905 he began submitting work to Punch. The following cartoon from 11^th November 1914, has the captions:

Cyclist to shopkeeper: “Many recruits gone from this village?”

Shopkeeper to cyclist: “No, Sir.”

Cyclist to shopkeeper: “Oh, why’s that?”

Shopkeeper to cyclist: “Well, Sir, after going carefully into the matter, we, in this neighbourhood, decided to remain absolutely neutral.”

 (That reminded me of the ‘nuclear-free zone’ in London in the 1980s.)

The First World War (The Great War) started on 28^th July 1914 and continued until 11^th November 1918.

Common sense at last

 

Common sense at last

The headlines this morning gave me hope that someone with common sense is leading the country. Andy Burnham, our new Prime Minister, has declared that he will put practical education on a par with academia. Perhaps now we will stop encouraging all and sundry to go to university whether or not they have the aptitude. Perhaps now we will begin to value the artisans, without whom, for example, houses would not be built and maintained.

An afternoon in the garden

 

An afternoon in the garden

We visited Gareth and Nina and their family on Saturday. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen all of them together. Susannah drove us there, which was very nice of her.

The ‘children’ are all currently living at home, with plans to move out to live in London, where the three of them work, with friends. Everything in London is so expensive, and they know they will have to part with a lot of their hard-earned salaries each month.

It was so nice for Frankie (13) to see his cousins, (27, 25 and 23) He’s had a rough couple of years with many changes, and it was good for him to be greeted and treated as an individual in his own right and not be judged or criticised. He had a wonderful time in their company and they each had something different to offer him.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon and we sat under an enormous adjustable parasol, which has integral lights and sound. We didn’t need the lights, of course, but it was pleasant to listen to different people’s play lists.

Gareth loves preparing and cooking food, so we dined very well, with Nina’s delicious salads accompanying homemade burgers and sausages. The pavlova proved a step too far for most of us, sadly. It looked delicious!

I discovered that Elliot cannot burp. It was not a subject I introduced freely, but he asked me if I still wrote blogs, so I told him about the recent one. He suffers from abelchia and often has to lie flat on his back to relieve the discomfort. This leads to some interesting conversations when he’s out, as strangers offer sympathy - ‘Had a bit too much, mate?’ It cuts short some of his evenings as he is obliged to return home.

It was soon time for us to take our leave. Eve and Louis were planning to go out for the evening and were trying to persuade Elliot to join them. They asked us what we would be doing for the rest of the day. One event a day is quite sufficient for us . . .

Today, Susannah and Frankie, Arthur and the three cats have returned to London. We shall see them again soon. It was very pleasant to have them here for a week.

It feels quiet here now. The dogs and cats are flaked out. We shall go to bed early. The heat is building up again, so early morning walks will be the order of the day once more.

 

Strictly Forbidden

The boys were urging him on. He was delighted to have been allowed to accompany them. Usually, he was relegated to the edges of the group, not a member, just an envious onlooker, longing to be as sophisticated and knowledgeable as them. He laughed at their jokes, not always understanding them, and sometimes wondering if he was the butt of them.

He was younger than them, but they had been friendlier to him in recent weeks, treating him almost as an equal and he was flattered by their interest.

They yelled to him again. What could go wrong? He had watched them a million times before from a distance, admiring their grace and athleticism. It was a kind of initiation ceremony, though no-one had ever called it that, but he knew he would be judged by his response to their exhortations. 

He chewed his lip. For so long he had wanted to be acknowledged and now was his opportunity to prove himself, to show them that he was at least as courageous as them.  

Imagination was his enemy. His head ached as he tussled with all the doubts and fears that assailed him. Words of warning tolled in his head and he pushed them aside. All he had to do was think of nothing and then it would be easy.

His pulse sounded in his ears, his veins felt too weak to contain his wildly pounding blood. Could they see his panic? Was it true that fear could be smelt?

Rivulets of sweat slid down his back, his hands were clammy and cold despite the heat of the day, and his legs trembled.

The boys were growing impatient. They were tiring of encouraging him and were beginning to jeer. He knew it was a tactic to spur him on, to make the adrenaline pump. He must commit himself or they would never bother with him again. 

He took a deep breath and jumped. His stomach lurched and he screamed as the water seemed to rush towards him. The shock of the cold sea made him gasp as he plummeted under the surface.

When, after a few seconds, he had not surfaced, the boys became uneasy, muttering to each other, wondering what they should do. One attempted to dive in but the others restrained him. Another boy rummaged in the piles of clothes on the sea wall and grabbed his mobile ‘phone. His fingers fumbled on the keys but at last he punched in 999.

It was difficult for the operator to make sense of the words the caller sobbed out. Soon afterwards ambulance and police appeared at the scene. His older brother, one of the gang members, was pale and incoherent with grief. 

Now, too late, he and his friends understood only too clearly why it was strictly forbidden to jump from the sea wall.                 

Burping

 

Burping

Elsie from River, wondered whether other animals can burp.

Most mammals are able to burp. Dogs burp more often than cats because they tend to gulp their food, swallowing air in the process, whereas cats eat more slowly and carefully. Animals whose stomachs have more than one chamber, like sheep, camels, and other ruminants, belch frequently to rid their bodies of the methane gas produced from the fermentation of food in their digestive systems.

Cows are renowned for the methane they emit. This is due to the corn and soy they are fed, which they cannot process efficiently. Some farmers alleviate that by feeding alfalfa and flaxseed which are similar to the grasses cows would have eaten before they were domesticated.

Our fellow primates, the chimpanzees, orangutans, and so forth, also belch, just like us. Gorillas produce great rumbling burps, which indicate gratification when they are eating delectable food.

Some marine mammals, like orcas and sea lions, also belch.

Among reptiles, crocodiles and alligators take in a lot of air with their prey, releasing it later in foul-smelling emissions. Similarly, large carnivorous lizards, like Komodo Dragons, will often burp after swallowing a whole egg or something similar.

There are some mammals which are physiologically incapable of belching or vomiting. Rodents, including mice, rats, squirrels and beavers are unable to burp. Sloths, rabbits, and horses also cannot burp or vomit. The gas that these animals produce is released as flatulence.

Burping and belching are two names for the same thing. The technical term is eructation.

 One of the two main causes of burping is swallowing air while eating or drinking. Some of that cannot be easily avoided, but it can be reduced by eating (or drinking) more slowly. Talking while eating and drinking through a straw will increase air intake. Chewing gum, smoking and loose dentures also add to the problem.

The second major culprit is the type of food or drink ingested. Carbonated drinks contain dissolved carbon dioxide that bubble in the stomach. These drinks include beer, and sparkling water, and what my nieces and nephew used to call ‘pop.’

High-fibre foods like pulses, onions, cabbage, and Brussels sprouts release gas as they are digested.

Some unfortunate people are unable to belch. This disorder is called abelchia – lovely name! – and was first identified in 1987. It causes great distress, with symptoms like bloating, flatulence, and chest discomfort. It is treated with Botulinum toxin (Botox) which relaxes the muscle inhibiting belching. One injection usually solves the problem permanently.

Burping in company may or may not be acceptable, depending on the circumstances and the culture. In Japan burping while eating is poor etiquette, while China and some middle eastern countries see it as complimentary to the chef. In the majority of Western societies, it is considered crude to belch in public. Sometimes it is unavoidable, and then most people quietly apologise.  

Of course, babies are encouraged to burp, and that is always acceptable and usually greeted with relief by parents and carers.

Feasting

 

Feasting

I do not usually fall victim to insect bites, but this summer seems to have made me more susceptible. Something small and insistent has been feasting on my arm. I have not seen it, but it has set up an almost irresistible itching.

When an insect bites, its saliva enters the skin. The saliva contains anti-coagulants to make it easier for the insect to feed on blood. The body recognises invasive allergens and releases histamine, which allows more white blood cells to come to the area to flush out the insect’s saliva. The increased fluid causes the swelling and redness and sends distress messages to the brain.

 Although scratching provides immediate relief, it activates the release of more histamine, causing even more frantic itching.

E45 Itch Relief Cream gave some slight relief, but in desperation I tried ‘bite away®’ which is described as a ‘chemical-free heat pen.’ Its purpose is to neutralise the venom by applying heat to the affected area and stop itching. Three seconds of 51º heat for children aged three or older or those with sensitive skin activates a response in the body which helps to reduce the release of histamine, stopping itching and swelling.

I quote from the information: ‘It was demonstrated in a clinical study with mosquitoes that bite away® can provide long-lasting relief from itching in as little as one minute.’

I cannot say it has had a significant impact on my bites. The swellings are impressive! If that's all I ever have to contend with, I shall not complain (much!)

I think a cold compress will be the next thing to try.

Mice can’t burp

 

Mice can’t burp

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Those of a delicate disposition may wish to skip this blog post.

In case you were wondering, mice can neither burp nor vomit.

The following story may be apocryphal but has some basis in fact.

Someone discovered that she had a mouse in her car and naturally she wanted to evict it. She tried traps humane and inhumane and the mouse escaped. She tried laying a trail of tasty treats out and away from the vehicle, but the mouse showed no interest.

Someone told her of a method which had worked for them in their garden shed. It involved a bowl of Coca-Cola. The mouse drank from the bowl, filled up with gas and was unable to relieve the pressure. It went outside for fresh air and exploded.

It may have been a method that was tried, but there is no data to support the story of an exploding mouse. Mice will drink Coca-Cola (other carbonated drinks are available) and may indeed become uncomfortable with stomach ache, but they will not explode.

 Baking soda is sometimes mixed with a tasty bait, like peanut butter, to make a homemade rodenticide. The soda reacts with the hydrochloric acid in the mouse’s second stomach** (the first is used for food storage, rather like a larder!) and creates carbon dioxide which builds up. The pressure created causes internal bleeding or organ failure, and eventually death, after several days. It is an inhumane way to deal with a problem.

However, if it were to be acceptable, maybe Coca-Cola could update its iconic advertisement and song:

Mouse Coke - it’s the real thing to solve your vermin problem!

I’d like to teach the mice to drink

A bowl of Coke for me,

I’d like to seem them try to burp,

Exploding messily.

 

It’s the cruel thing!

**Clarification: Mice don't have two stomachs, but rather one stomach divided into two distinct regions - a fore-stomach, and a glandular region for chemical digestion.