The Home Counties

 

The Home Counties

The home counties are those English counties which border London. They are commonly accepted to be the six counties of Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Essex, Hertfordshire, Kent, and Surrey. Why are Essex, Kent, and Surrey not given the suffix ‘shire’ for they are counties, too?

‘Shire’ refers to an area governed by a local official, known as the ‘shire reeve’ or ‘sheriff.’ Essex, Kent and Surrey were former Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, so were never designated ‘shires.’ 

Sometimes the term ‘home counties’ is broadened to include counties a little further from London, which do not surround the city, like Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Hampshire, Oxfordshire, East Sussex and West Sussex. All of these areas are within easy reach of London and can be regarded as commuter accessible. That leads to the further conclusion that the home counties provide many of the workers in London and are therefore associated with business, finance and growth. They are some of the wealthiest regions in Britain.

One theory for the origin of the term ‘Home Counties,’ a term that has been in use since at least the 17^th century, suggests that it refers to the Home Counties Circuit of courts surrounding London since the 18^th century. That seems a little illogical if the phrase had been used a century before. Another suggestion is that government officials and civil servants could live reasonably close to London, while still retaining homes in the country. Such a practice has been in train since the Tudor period.

A third theory poses the idea that the home counties were the places of disembarkation for military and naval personnel returning from postings abroad.

In general, the home counties are pleasant places to live, usually with access to pretty countryside, or the sea, or, if you’re particularly lucky, both country and seaside, though each of them has their darker spots.

A Plumber’s Tale – helmet and headtorch

 

A Plumber’s Tale – helmet and headtorch

This is a post reworked from August 2010

My son-in-law, Paul, known to his friends as Doddy, was tasked to fit a central heating system in an old wooden-framed building. He had to lay pipes under the floor but didn’t want to lift the floorboards, so decided to create a trapdoor into the cavity underneath. He thought this would create less work and proceeded with his plan.

With his safety helmet and headtorch in place, he lowered himself through the hatch into the dark and dirty space below. Plumbers frequently have to work in odd positions in restricted spaces, and Paul was on his back, tapping supports for the pipes onto the underside of the flooring above. He became aware of a crunching noise under his body and looked to see piles of empty snail shells. As he was wondering how they came to be there in such incalculable numbers, he heard a loud hiss and was extremely alarmed to see a badger far too close for comfort.

 Badgers can be exceedingly aggressive, particularly in confined areas, so Paul removed himself from a potentially very unpleasant situation as quickly as he could, leaving his helmet and head-torch behind. In order to complete the job, he had to lift the floorboards after all.

The helmet and head-torch remain beneath the floor. I wonder what future archaeologists will make of them.

Painting rocks

 

Painting rocks

There was a popular trend in this area about six years ago. People, adults and children, painted rocks or pebbles and hid them, usually in plain sight, in walking areas. 

They might be found in woods, on park benches, outside shops, in playgrounds. It made walking with children interesting and was a good method of increasing their observation skills. When searchers found them, they could keep them, or photograph them, or remove them to another hiding place.

Some rocks lent themselves to particular decorations. I painted one in Dalmatian guise and others as ladybirds. My art skills are very basic, but some of the local painters produced beautifully detailed miniatures and even fulfilled commissions. Little children painted bright, splashy pictures on their rocks.

Apparently, the idea originated in the States with the Kindness Rocks Project and grew in popularity, spreading to other countries. As a way of brightening people’s days, it worked very well, but it seems to have fallen out of favour in recent years.

Gilbert’s language development

 

Gilbert’s language development

We’re quite concerned about Gilbert’s language development. He understands all food related words and sounds. If he hears an apple or a peach being cut up, he is immediately in attendance. He’s equally alert to any talk of going out.

He just can’t get the idea of names being attached to people and toys. It’s our fault, of course. We talk to him endlessly, but obviously not about the right things, and he listens carefully, his beautiful eyes trained on us. He also indicates, very clearly, the things he wants, like his honking duck, which needs repair once again, and the roast chicken pan and the gravy saucepan, the yoghourt pot and the almost empty butter dish – he and Roxy share those, turn and turn about (and they go in the dishwasher for a thorough sterilising clean when finished) It’s just our names and the names of his toys he can’t quite grasp.

Maybe he has too many toys – typical spoilt youngest! ‘Find your toy’ promotes a happy galloping off to find a toy, but the names elude him. He’s just about learnt Quintopus. Our son’s dog, a toy poodle, is very smart – knows all her toys’ names, brings his and his wife’s slippers to them, as well as a myriad other accomplishments.

 I know we shouldn’t compare – it’s disastrous, as bad as it is for children.

Maybe you remember, ‘What reading level is your child on?‘ ‘Which maths book is he working on?’ ‘What part has she got in the school play?’ No matter what your school may tell you, all children know exactly where they are in the class, who’s the best reader, who’s top of the class in maths, who’s naughtiest, who’s teacher’s pet.

Returning to Gilbert, the subject of this post . . . people! Today I asked him to go and find Barry and he immediately went into the kitchen and picked up his grunting pig, which I thought was hilarious. After some while, Barry eventually saw the funny side. To be fair, Barry has had his mind on other things, principally the colonography and the medical photograph of the lesion at the side of his nose and the chest x-ray and the microcytic anaemia and yet another blood test, but even so – come on! Actually, he’s much more relaxed about the whole series of examinations than I am, and worse things happen at sea, and all that.

Anyway, we are revising our opinions of Gilbert’s intelligence, but don’t tell him. We wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.

And we bought a nail-filing tray for Roxy and so far all they‘ve managed to do is file their teeth and tongues.

                        Roxy: What do I do with this? Give us a clue!

                                            Gilbert: Try this!

                                    Roxy: Let's try it this way . . .

There are pictures and reports of dogs cracking the problem in seconds. Not our dogs.

Maybe it’s working Labradors. My daughter’s younger Labrador was incredibly pleased to be given a Yakker, a chew made with Yak milk, and carried it around for an hour, not knowing quite what to do with it, but wagging her tail the whole time, to show she appreciated the gift.

Writing daily

 

Writing daily

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I am told that I make light of things - well, don’t we all? Sometimes people accuse me of trivialising problems. I don’t. I just compartmentalise them and look for a lighter tone to carry me through. That’s along the lines of, ‘Laugh, and the world laughs with you, Weep, and you weep alone,’ and I’d rather not weep, thank you.

I do have an errant sense of humour, which is not always appropriate, I suppose.

My writing is entirely selfish. I do it to keep myself on an even keel and not let events overwhelm me. It takes me away from miseries I would rather not dwell on that would make the lives of everyone around me (that would be Barry!) miserable, too. As well as my blog, I keep a daily journal.

I wondered about the origin of ‘Laugh and the world laughs with you.’ The lines are from this poem by the American author and poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919).

AMR

 

AMR

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Antimicrobrial resistance orAMR is one of the biggest risks to public health.

Antimicrobial agents are used to combat infection. They include antibiotics, but not all antibiotics are antimicrobials.

 Common infections are harder to treat, and surgery is riskier, as antibiotics are commonly used to prevent and treat infections that can follow surgical intervention. Drug resistance is making the control and treatment of many diseases, including malaria, leprosy, HIV and tuberculosis, increasingly difficult.

 Antimicrobials can attack a range of microorganisms, like viruses, parasites and fungi in humans, animals and plants. Antibiotics specifically target bacteria and are no use against viruses.

All are becoming resistant to treatment, because of changes and adaptations in microorganisms. Resistant microorganisms are commonly called superbugs.

Sir Alexander Fleming (1881-1955)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Sir Alexander Fleming (1881-1955) discovered penicillin in 1928. It was described as ‘the single greatest victory ever achieved over disease.’ Previously, sulphonamides had been used to fight infection, but had unpleasant common side effects including nausea, skin rashes and headache. More severe consequences might also be experienced, like liver or kidney malfunction or anaphylaxis.

Penicillin was hailed as a miracle cure, but even as he accepted his Nobel Prize in Medicine, in 1945, Fleming warned that misuse could lead to resistance to the drug, and so it proved. Misuse and overuse combined to make all antimicrobials less effective and to drive the development of drug-resistant germs.

New antibiotics are being developed, some of which are still only at the animal-testing stage. WHO (World Health Organisation) has outlined 40 priorities for research into antimicrobial resistance, with answers required by 2030.

It is a grim outlook. 

Tales from the Academy ASM J.C. Lord MVO, MBE

 

Tales from the Academy

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

ASM J.C. Lord MVO, MBE

This is an update of a post from many years ago.

We live a short distance from the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, variously known as the Academy, the RMA, the RMAS or simply Sandhurst. We often hear the sound of small arms fire in the wee, small hours of the night and so we know that Sandhurst is on exercise (known as manoeuvres in other countries.)

The RMA has trained countless thousands of officer cadets from numerous countries. All of them have memorable moments to recount, many relating to the Warrant Officers who drilled them so thoroughly – some might say, relentlessly.

J.C. Lord of the Grenadier Guards was the first Academy Sergeant Major at Sandhurst. Academy Sergeant Major is the highest non-commissioned rank in the Army. Today, all Warrant Officers Class 1 (WO1) are nicknamed ‘Lords’ in his honour and two rooms at the Academy are named for him, one being the WOs and Sergeants’ Mess bar. In the British Army, WO1 is the highest non-commissioned rank below ASM. (In the US Army it is the lowest WO rank.)

The ASM is usually drawn from one of the Guards regiments. The current holder, Daniel Cope (2024) is a Welsh Guardsman.

ASM Lord was an impressive character. He was the first Regimental Sergeant Major of the 3^rd Battalion, Parachute Regiment on its formation. He was wounded and captured at Arnhem and taken to Stalag XIB Prisoner of War Camp where conditions were deplorable, and the prisoners’ self-esteem was extremely low. Through his strength of personality and enduring military discipline, J.C. Lord raised morale and rebuilt the confidence and pride of the prisoners.

At the time of his tenure at Sandhurst, most cadets entered the Academy straight from school, little more than boys, and the course lasted two years and involved a great deal of drilling. Now, it is a shorter course, and the cadets are older, more mature young men and women, many with professional qualifications.

Nonetheless, drill still plays its part. In ASM Lord’s time, he would address the cadets at their first parade, pace stick under arm. ‘Gentlemen, I will call you ‘Sir,’ but I will not mean it. You will address me as ‘Sir’ and you will mean it.’ All cadets, regardless of wealth, background, or family connections (many came from Royal families across the globe and still do) were treated equally and expected to conform and perform to the required standard. The Sandhurst motto, ‘Serve to lead’ means exactly that.

He had an extraordinary eye for detail and would spot any infringement in dress or behaviour from a great distance. With, then, one thousand cadets on the parade ground, all dressed identically, usually in service dress, he would order his subordinates to ‘fetch that idle man over there.’

The Warrant Officers would scurry about, seeking the miscreant and would shout, ‘This one, sir?’

ASM Lord would shout back, ‘No!’

Another cadet would be singled out. ‘This one, sir?’

‘No!’

A third unfortunate would be indicated. ‘This one, sir?’

‘No!’ came the reply.

Eventually, with WOs trying their best to discover the cause of the ASM’s distress, ‘This one, sir?’ would bring forth the response, ‘No! No! No! No! No! – but he’ll do!’

Depending on the severity of the misdemeanour, the culprit might find himself detained in the Guard House for a brief period.

     Officer cadets learnt very quickly that it was unwise to do anything that might draw close attention. Talking in the ranks was strictly forbidden and so the young men developed extraordinary ventriloquial skills. In addition, impassivity was required, no matter what might occur, and they discovered that they could exercise monumental self-control.

On one occasion, the WO taking the parade was an imposing Irish Guard of great stature and ferocity, turned out in impeccable style. A small incident, now lost to memory, caused him to remonstrate fervently with the offending cadet, to the entertainment of the young man’s peers. As he got into his verbal stride, seeking ever more amusingly cutting remarks, the WO’s decibel level increased with his creativity. As he reached his apogee, his false teeth flew out and the cadets were hard-pressed to contain their mirth.

History does not record how the teeth were recovered and by whom, though doubtless the story has gone down in the annals of one family somewhere.

Ideas

 

Ideas

‘If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.’

George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

 

‘Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people.’

Eleanor Roosevelt (1884-1962)

 

‘Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.’

John Steinbeck (1902-1968)

 

‘If I have a thousand ideas and only one turns out to be good, I am satisfied.’

Alfred Nobel (1833-1896)

 

‘It is not once nor twice but times without number that the same ideas make their appearance in the world.’

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC)

Tomatoes

 

Tomatoes

Sungold

We’ve never had much success with tomatoes, but we tried again this year. We’re not proper gardeners, so bought a couple of plants and after a very slow start they started producing flowers and then fruits.

Veranda Red 

We have had more ripe tomatoes from the dwarf ‘Veranda Red,’ while ‘Sungold’ has grown tall and stately and was later in ripening its fruit. Both of them produce cherry tomatoes. Veranda Red has tomatoes ranging from cherry to marble to blueberry-sized tomatoes. Naturally, the very smallest have little or no taste, but they amuse me.

Veranda Red 'harvest' this morning.

I like the colour of Sungold tomatoes and they taste delicious. I don’t think all the tomatoes will ripen now, but I’ll keep them going for a little while longer while I look up recipes for green tomato chutney, which I will probably never make.

Sungold

Brush your hair 100 times

 

Brush your hair 100 times

Harriet

My grandmother, Harriet, whom I never knew, was born in the late 19^th century. She had long hair, which was always pinned up. My sister, many years my senior, used to love watching her brush her hair and longed to stroke it, but was too shy to do so. I suspect Harriet would have enjoyed the contact. She had no daughters, just three sons, the youngest of whom was my father.

Maybe Harriet was exhorted to brush her hair one hundred times a day. It’s certainly a maxim I heard frequently in my childhood, though I was never encouraged to follow it. I had long, thick hair and have worn long, or longish, hair for most of my life.

Me, aged 11.

It is important to brush one’s hair, because it distributes natural oils and stimulates the scalp, so improving blood flow to maintain healthy hair.  I’ve never quite believed that there is such a thing as ‘healthy hair’, because hair is dead and has no nerves. As far as I understand it, it records the health you were enjoying, or not, as it grew, much as fingernails are an indication of your well-being.

Apparently, the ‘average person’, whoever that is, loses a hundred hairs every day. Regular brushing, we are assured, reduces the loss and is, I quote,’especially important for people with thinning hair or anyone who wants to maintain their current hair length.’ 

So, all you balding people, hie thee to the hairbrushery and purchase a brush, forthwith.

It is not advisable to brush your hair one hundred times a day, because, and I quote, ‘Excessive stimulation such as brushing  . . . can erode the hair’s cuticle (the outermost layer), causing mats or tangles which weaken the strands making them more susceptible to breakage if brushed too hard or often.’

When should you brush? Should you brush at all? Why does the hairdresser use a comb on wet hair and not a brush? Too many questions . . .

You should brush your hair at least once a day. ✔ I brush morning and evening, like my teeth, though obviously not with the same brush – that would be just silly, and can you imagine a toothbrush tangled in your crowning glory? Ooh, shivers! 🥶

The advice is to brush after, no, before you shower, but before bedtime so that the natural oils can be distributed evenly and will not disturb your sleep! ‘Oh, I had a terrible night – couldn’t sleep a wink. The hair oils were weighing me down something chronic and giving me such a headache.’ 🤢

So, follow the conflicting advice. Brush your hair before you step into the shower, brush it again after you exit the shower, or else don’t bother and just vigorously, but not too vigorously, brush it before you climb into bed.

The final piece of priceless advice I came across was to encourage more volume in your hair by ‘brushing it in a pool or in the ocean (this will help increase blood flow.)’

Babydoll Sheep

 

Olde English Babydoll Southdown Sheep

                                                     Image source

The Southdown sheep is one of the oldest English sheep breeds and originated in the South Downs of Sussex, England. They were naturally small animals but were hardy and able to thrive on poor land. They produced well-flavoured meat, being heavier in the hindquarters, and gave excellent quality wool.

They are believed to have been taken to the English Colonies by 1640, with some historians claiming that they first arrived in Virginia in 1609. England tried to prevent the development of the wool trade in America, but the Americans persisted. Massachusetts ordained that young people must learn to spin and weave, I suppose to ensure that the nascent wool trade would grow.

By the end of the 17^th century, the English were so incensed at America exporting American woollen goods that they made sheep-trading and the manufacture of wool illegal. The punishment for breaking the law was the amputation of the miscreant’s right hand. The consequence was that spinning or weaving wool became a symbol of patriotism and pride.

The law became one of the causes of the American War of Independence, from 1775 to 1783, which ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783. The Declaration of Independence was proclaimed on 4^th July, 1776, though it took another seven years for the British to accept defeat and acknowledge the former colony’s independence.

 Meanwhile, in Britain in 1780, a man called John Ellman was working to standardise the Southdown breed and improve its rate of growth and meat production. By the end of the century, they became important in the development of the other downs breeds, the Suffolk, Hampshire, Oxford, Shropshire and Dorset Down.

There was a decline in numbers after the First World War and by the end of the Second World War, they almost died out completely. People wanted larger cuts of meat and so the smaller Southdowns were crossed with the larger New Zealand Southdown, in 1960s America, resulting in bigger sheep, now known as American Southdowns. About twenty years later, the same exercise was repeated in the UK.

 Back in America, about 1990, a man called Robert Mock was determined to find the original small sheep. He called them Olde English Babydoll Southdowns, to mark the difference between them and the modern Southdown sheep. Since then, the breed has flourished in the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, and was reintroduced to the UK at the beginning of the 21^st century, though numbers remain small. Ewes often give birth to twins, and sometimes triplets.

These docile little sheep come in two colours, black and white, and produce fine wool that bears close comparison to cashmere and is much prized by spinners. It can also be blended with angora wool, either from rabbits or goats.

Fully-grown, they are about the same height as a Border collie.

 People often keep a couple as pets – as herd animals, they must have the companionship of their own kind - but they are also used in orchards and vineyards, to crop the grass and spread their fertiliser. Babydoll sheep are said to resemble teddy bears and are easy to handle. They are naturally polled but can give a good headbutt if so minded.

Primordial pouch

Primordial pouch

Herschel displays his primordial pouch

The seemingly effortless ease and elegance with which cats run and leap and climb is a source of great pleasure to many people. Big cats, like panthers or cheetahs, or small domestic or feral cats, are startlingly similar in appearance and behaviour. In good health, they are lithe and sleek athletes, whether hunting antelope or moths.

                    Closer view, caught just before Herschel sat down!

The primordial pouch is present in all cats, both male and female, though it is more noticeable in some than others. It is a flap of fur covered loose skin and tissue under the belly, which swings from side to side as the cat runs. It is similar to the loose skin at the scruff of the neck, the part that a mother cat grabs to carry a kitten, but has a different purpose.

It develops when the cat is about six months old and there appear to be three main theories for its existence. It is thought to be a protective armour for the internal organs of a cat in fights, as it provides an extra layer of fat and fur against the onslaught of the sharp teeth and claws of an opponent.

Cats are known for their flexibility and ability to reach between surfaces which may be far apart, and to leap high. The extra skin on the primordial pouch enables them to stretch and also to turn, allowing them to twist to land on their feet, when falling, for example.  In flight situations, longer strides mean that the cat can escape much quicker.

The third main theory relates to food. If a cat, particularly a wild cat, consumes a large meal, the pouch can expand to accommodate the extra food, storing it as fat against leaner times.

I don't think an extra layer of fat on a human belly achieves the same effect!

Buoys again

 

Buoys again

Mooring buoy somewhere in the Solent, probably Gosport.

 I was gently and rather ruefully admonished for not using one of our own photographs of a buoy. I trawled through several hundred of the thousands of sailing photographs we have, and found one and then gave up. Honour has been satisfied!

I looked up how to pronounce buoy. The north American pronunciation is ‘boo-ee’ but British English stipulates ‘boy.’ The Antipodeans also say ‘boy.’ Sorry to all you republicans in Australia.

Andrew asked, ‘does the American pronunciation come from old English, taken to the Americas.’

As far as I can discover, ‘buoy’ originated in the late 13^th century. It may have come from the old French. I found the following:

‘buoy (n.) late 13c., perhaps from either O.Fr. buie or M.Du. boeye, both from W.Gmc. **baukn* "beacon" (cf. O.H.G. bouhhan, O.Fris. baken). OED, however, supports M.Du. boeie, or O.Fr. boie "fetter, chain" (see boy), "because of its being fettered to a spot."

So you have two possible origins, one originally pronounced [bɥi(ə)] (French) or [bœɛi] (Dutch), and the other [boi] (French) or [bœi] (Dutch), all of which could be Anglicised as either disyllabic [buwiː] (boo-ee) or monosyllabic [bɔɪ] (boy).

I suspect both pronunciations have been around for a while in English, and the colonial divide just drew a more distinct (regional) line between them.’

I also found this:

‘One common 18th century pronunciation of buoy in England (and presumably also America), seems to have been bwoy (/bwɔɪ/). The book A Practical Grammar of English Pronunciation by Benjamin Humphrey Smart (London, 1810) says

Bw, in the words
Buoy, buoyance
is represented by bu. They should never be pronounced boy, boyance.

I believe that this comment shows that both bwoy and boy were used in 1810 England. This pronunciation also explains why buoy is not spelled boy.’

Finally, this:

The 1892 Webster's High School Dictionary gives both boy and bwoy as pronunciations.

‘It's not hard to imagine the pronunciation bwoy turning into boo-ee. But it's also possible that in 18th century England, besides the pronunciations boy and bwoy, there was a third, boo-ee, which now only survives in the U.S. I would tend to lean towards the theory that the boo-ee pronunciation was brought to American from England, because the OED gives a 1603 citation where the word is spelled "bowie", which seems to indicate that this pronunciation existed in England then.’

I think the Canadians might have something to say about ‘boo-ee’ only surviving in the US now!

Fur

 

Fur

Roxy's fur is a much darker chocolate than it appears here, and Gilbert's is a darker yellow. The undercoats of both of them are lighter than their top coats.

No matter how many times a day we sweep or vacuum, there always seem to be drifts of fur on the floor, which is not really surprising, with two each of dog and cat. I regularly decide to start a daily routine of brushing and regularly fail, but this time I have accomplished it for three days. Roxy has tufts of fur on her hind quarters, which beg to be plucked and I usually do that in the woods.

It has been  warm and sunny recently and Roxy loves to lie out in the sun, which isn’t very sensible with her dark coat, but she comes indoors after a while and lies and pants to cool down, silly girl. Naturally, as she was getting some attention, Gilbert decided to join us and then Herschel came out, too, because, where the dogs are, so must he be. On the third day, Jellicoe appeared as I was brushing, so some of his silvery fur joined the pile, which was swiftly blown away when the wind sprung up.

Most of the fur I brushed out with my Furminator is Roxy’s, but I did a few sweeps across Gilbert and a couple of passes over Herschel. Thus, the pile of fur, which would be so useful to the birds if they were still collecting nesting material, is a mixture of chocolate, yellow and a minute amount of creamy silvery white. The photograph above shows the result of about fifteen minutes' brushing. 

If only I were a spinner and weaver, I could achieve some wonderful material. I saw a video clip about washing and felting collected dog fur, but I haven’t the inclination to do that, though there are some interesting items on Etsy, a felted heart, for example, selling for £25. 

I could just use the lint from the tumble dryer and the contents of the vacuum cleaner – they are mostly dog (and cat) fur!

I lay in bed last night, pondering what I could make with felted fur. The answer, I fear, would be 'not very much.' Maybe I'll try.

 

Emoji update

I’ve found a solution, although whether it will continue to work is impossible to say. Things often ‘go wrong’ on my computer. Sometimes, it’s the cats walking across or sitting on the keyboard, so I try to ensure that I switch off the keyboard when I move away from the computer. At other times, I have inadvertently hit the wrong key and I’m never aware of it, but it must be what I’ve done as the in-house expert tells me it is. 👍

 When I go back to do some work there is a frustrating moment when nothing appears on the screen, despite my rapid typing. There follows an ‘Ahhh!’ as I realise what I haven’t done. 👀

For the moment, I’m happy, so expect my posts henceforth to be littered with emojis, until I get bored and move onto something else. I’m such a child!

What was my solution? I searched ‘Add emojis’ in Word (I'm using Windows 10) and followed the instructions. However, when I attempted to copy and paste the entirety of this post, all the emojis disappeared to be replaced with empty boxes. 😢

 Then I read more of your helpful and most welcome comments and I think I’ve discovered another route. If only this level of research and diligence could be applied to something really useful, like finding an answer to Antimicrobial resistance (AMR) 

The emojis cannot be resized as they can in Word but it's a step forward. There is also not as wide a range of emojis. (Some people are never satisfied)

😊😃👏

Buoys

 

Buoys

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

We watched a video about the collision of the Maersk Shekou and the Sail Training Ship Leeuwin in Fremantle on 30^th August. It was most informative. Maersk Shekou damaged one of the berths and the roof of the Maritime Museum. It also damaged itself, with a hole in the side. It dismasted the tall ship Leeuwin and two crew members were taken to hospital with injuries, which were not life-threatening, fortunately.

It’s something of a mystery at present. There were two pilots on board and four attendant tugs, so I’m sure many people will have reached their own conclusions.

Shekou has been in and out of Fremantle on other occasions without incident. There is a link to the YouTube video about the accident. It’s just over sixteen minutes long.

The thing that intrigued me almost as much as the analysis was the pronunciation of buoys. I had always assumed that everyone pronounced it the same way – ‘BOYS,’ but the presenter said, ‘BOO-EES’ and it amused me. How many other ways is it pronounced, I wonder?