The Inquisitive Cow on the Oscars, Facebook and Hydroxypropyltrimonium Chloride

dúnadan: Hallo from a glade somewhere in central Dorset. I am with my friend Gerrie, the inquisitive cow! Hello Gerrie.

inq. cow: Good day, dúnadan!
augustine squirrel: What about us, young man?!
dúnadan: I was just coming to you Mr Squirrel! Yes, reader, Gerrie and I are not alone. Here as well are Bertie Pig---
bertie pig: Hallo the internet world!
dúnadan: Tecumseh---
tecumseh squirrel: The one who won the Triumph!
dúnadan: Yes, I think the readers know that! So, Tecumseh and Little Boots Squirrel, their father Augustine---
augustine squirrel: That's more like it!
dúnadan: Learned Owl, Mrs Professor Learned Owl and Learning Owlet, Hannibal Rabbit, the Honeybadger and numerous other animals. And you are in this rather cramped glade crowding round what looks like to me a CB radio. Gerrie, let's climb out of here. As we walk, tell me what is going on!
inq. cow: As you know, dúnadan, we have our own amateur dramatics club in the Wood. Its members aspire to the highest quality of acting performance. In America tonight, actors and actresses will be awarded awards in recognition of their acting performances in films over the last year. We are tuning our radio so that we can listen to the ceremony and gain inspiration from their good work.
dúnadan: The awards to which you refere are, of course, the Oscars.
inq. cow: Awarded by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
dúnadan: ... Which will be taking place in 'tinsel town', which is otherwise known as...
inq. cow: Los Angeles!
dúnadan: Correct! Well, Gerrie, who will you be rooting for tonight?
inq. cow: Well, no one, actually.
dúnadan: You are remaining impartial?
inq. cow: It's more to do with the fact that I have not seen any of the pictures. I did write a letter to the manager of the Dorchester Odeon this week requesting that a screen be set up here but I have not yet received his reply.
dúnadan: Hmm. I wonder if he will.
inq. cow: Well, my letter was very polite, so I expect him to.
dúnadan: Let's talk about the Oscars then. What interests you most about them?
inq. cow: I am very intrigued by the many different catagories but I have to admit to being rather puzzled by the terms that they use. I shall be investigating them further over the next week. In the last week, however, I have been looking into the history of the event. The first Oscar ceremony was carried out in 1929 in the Blossom Room of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. What a nice name! Have you noticed that blossom trees have started to bloom this week?
dúnadan: Yes, I did. When the blossom is fully out it will look like scoops of ice cream!
inq. cow: Which is made from cow milk. Yummy! Only 270 people attended the first ceremony. But the Oscars have become so popular that they are now broadcast in over 100 countries.
dúnadan: What I like most about the Oscars - apart from the fabulous gowns that the women wear! - is the suspense. You don't know what is going to happen until they open that famous gold envelope...!
inq. cow: It was not always like that. In fact, at first the names of the winners were announced three months in advance. And up till 1940, they were given in advance to the newspapers to be published at 11pm - once the ceremony was over. But in 1940 - Moooo! - scandal! the Los Angeles Times published the winners' names in its evening edition. It was this that led to the gold envelopes coming into use.
dúnadan: Exciting stuff. Well, I hope you are able to tune your radio to whichever station is broadcasting the ceremony.
inq. cow: Actually, Farmer Bill has agreed to provide a commentary from his living room for us. He is also a big film fan! Jenny Wren has acquired a citizens' band radio which he will use.
dúnadan: I see! Well, good luck, and we will talk about what happened next week. Moving on, you have taken another step into high technology this week!

inq. cow: That is correct - thanks to Mrs Professor Learned Owl I now have a "facebook" profile.
dúnadan: Facebook is a networking tool - do you intend to do much networking?
inq. cow: I would certainly like to set up a knowledge group for like minded animals or people.
dúnadan: Facebook is popular with animals?
inq. cow: Actually, I believe I may be the first!
dúnadan: Well, good luck with that. I hope it brings you lots of knowledge!
inq. cow: Perhaps someone in Los Angeles will become my friend to tell me all about the Oscars!
dúnadan: We'll see. Now, what shall we talk about next?

"G.H.C."

inq. cow: What about Guar Hydroxypropyltrimonium Chloride?
dúnadan: Eh... what is that? Is it legal?
inq. cow: Of course it is! Don't be put off by the long name. G.H.C. is a quaternary derivative of guar gum. I have been trying to find out what 'quarternary' means and I keep finding that it is a geologic time period that began nearly two million years ago - and continues to the present -, so I wonder if this means that G.H.C., or Guar Hydroxypropyltrimonium Chloride as I like to say---
dúnadan: Show off!
inq. cow: Moo! As I was saying, I wonder if it means that G.H.C. was first formed during the Quaternary Period. Either way, G.H.C. is a water soluble property that has conditioning qualities that makes it ideal for use in hair products.
dúnadan: So it is the stuff that makes your hair nice and smooth and lustrous looking!
inq. cow: Indeed, it is just that stuff!
dúnadan: Most interesting! I shall look at my shampoo with renewed interest next time I wash my hair!
inq. cow: And I resolve to start washing my hair so that I can make use of this interesting natural resource.
dúnadan: Well, Gerrie, they are calling you back to the CB now so we better bring today's interview to a close. Thank you for your time. Have a good night and week.
inq. cow: Thank you, dúnadan. I would like to thank you for coming. Farmer Bill for staying up all night tonight. We will give him all the cider he wants to aid him in his endeavour. I would like to thank...
dúnadan: Enough! Enough! Reader, goodbye from the inquisitive cow and me!

complete inquisitive cow interviews here

HNP Exercise Club

The HNP Exercise Club is a very exclusive club for it has only one member - me. In fact, it has only one form of exercise - an early morning jog. The club started last summer only for all activities to be halted when I caught my yearly chest cough at the end of October. That cough finally went once and for all (or, until next winter) at the turn of the year but it has taken me this long to drag myself out of bed in the wee hours to take up the jogging again. This morning, I did it, and - much like going to confession - though I wasn't really looking forward to it, felt very glad afterwards that I had done. Over the following weeks, I hope to ease myself back into the jogging routine, so today's was a brief one - a three minute run followed by a one minute brisk walk. Conditions for running were good today - it had rained overnight so the air was cool. The downside of this meant that there were puddles in the little valleys caused by our undulating pavement but they were easily avoided.

Quinsssa!

Harlequins 15 Bristol Rugby 8

A close score but an excellent win for Harlequins against the second placed team in the Premiership. At the beginning of the 2006-7 season Bristol were some pundits' favourites to be relegated but they have spent the months since confounding their critics one game after another and can now be considered as favourites to win the league and end of season Grand Final. Key to Bristol's success has been their mastery of the art of grinding out wins in games that most teams would lose (e.g. see their last gasp and one point win over Newcastle last week).

As for Harlequins, the pressure was on for a win today to keep ahead of the teams below, two of whom - Northampton over Leicester and London Irish over Sale - scored surprising victories last night. Actually, given Sale's injury situation, Irish's win was not so surprising but nothing prepared me for Northampton's amazing win, though. I have called Bristol favourites to win the Premiership title this year, but if anyone can stop them, it is the evergreen Tigers.

I have to admit, I did not think Harlequins could win this one. At best, I thought we would get a bonus point loss. Indee, such has been Bristol's form, I could well see them running away with the game. So, it was with great joy that I record the above result. I can do no more as I did not attend this game and was far too nervous to listen to it on the radio. On that glorious night in 1999 when Manchester United beat Bayern Munich to win the association football European Cup my nerves got so frayed that I had to take two long walks during the match. In truth, we did play very badly that night and were very lucky indeed to score twice in the closing seconds.

The reason for my non-attendence lies with my decision to go and watch the Ireland - England game with Our Man in the Army. I would have gone to the Stoop, but Harlequin's winger David Strettle was winning his first cap for England so I thought it would be nice to go and see him play. Well, it certainly was nice to see him play and score his first try for England. What wasn't nice was seeing Ireland win 43 - 13. Still, it was a thoroughly deserved result for the Irish so I can only say well done to them. It will do their confidence for the World Cup no end of good. As for the Six Nations, I think that is heading over the English Channel but Ireland will have no fear if they meet France in the World Cup this summer. They only lost to them with a last second try last week. If they meet again, they are as likely to win than lose.

As for Harlequins, victory over Bristol puts them back in 6th place on 38 points. By my reckoning, with six games left to play, last placed Worcester Warriors would have to win five five-point games in order to overhaul Harlequins (with Quins losing five non losing bonus point games in return). With Harlequins playing the other four teams who are currently above them in the league it is perfectly possible that they could go on a losing run, however, this Harlequin side is not the same as that which started the season. It has experience and will have no fear. Quins, therefore, need two more wins to be mathematically safe from relegation but given Worcester's record so far it has to be doubted as to whether the Warriors have the ability to win their way to safety.

Next week we travel to Leicester to play the Tigers. Before last night I would definately have put that down as a loss. However, with Bristol defeated and Northampton's heroics, who knows what may happen... Lord, isn't sport exciting!

ADDENDUM: I am currently listening to Radio Five's rugby phone-in. The presenters are saying how quiet the Irish fans were for the British National Anthem. For those who don't know, Croke Park, where the game was played for the first time, is the home of Gaelic Football. It is also where a massacre was carried out by British soldiers in 1916. There was a lot of talk in the press this week about how the English presence might cause trouble among Irish supporters. But there was no trouble and the radio has just said that you could have heard a pin drop when God Save The Queen was played. Well done & Thank You to the Irish fans!

Confessions of a Convert R H Benson

Robert Hugh Benson was a Catholic priest who I had heard of in the books of other writers over the last few year but did not really know much about. Thus, when I saw his spiritual autobiography for sale I thought it would make good Lenten reading.

Benson was the son of Edward Benson, Archbishop of Canterbury between 1883 - 1896. R.H.B. writes that although he was thus brought up in a religious household, he had very little religious feeling himself. Despite this, he was ordained a priest by his father in 1895. Six years later, Benson joined a religious community called The Community of the Resurrection. He lasted there two years. A spiritual crisis over the position of the Church of England led him to seek reception into the Catholic Church in 1903.

Confessions is a short work written in very readable English. I completed it in a couple of sessions, including one late at night. I should say that I don't think it works as a spiritual book. Rather like C. S. Lewis' Surprised By Joy it is about facts. I don't say this to denigrate the book, just to set it in its proper context.

Earlier on today I mentioned the current problems of the Anglican communion as discussed in the Catholic press. Benson discusses defects of the Church of England which give one an indication of why Anglicanism is so divided even to the point of schism today:

... if Christianity is, as I believe it, a real Revelation, the teaching Church must at any rate know her own mind with regard to the treasure committed to her care, and supremely on those points on which the salvation of her children depends. She may be undecided and permit divergent views on purely speculative points; she may allow her theologians, for instance, to argue, unchecked for centuries, as to the modes by which God acts, or as to the best philosophical terms for the elucidation of mysteries, or as to the precise limits of certain of her own powers and the manners of their exercise.

But in things that directly and practically affect souls - with regard to the fact of grace, its channels, the things necessary for salvation, and the rest - she must not only know her mind, but must be constantly declaring it, and no less constantly silencing those who would obscure or misinterpret it.

Now this was not at all the case with the Communion in which I found myself. I was an official of a church that did not seem to know her own mind even on matters directly connected with the salvation of the soul. It was my duty to preach and practise the system of redemption which God had given through the life and death of Jesus Christ, and that system I knew very well to be a sacramental one.

Yet when I looked about me for a clear statement as to that system I did not find it. It was true that many individuals taught and accepted what I did; there were many societies to which I belonged - the "English Church Union" and the "Confraternity of the Blessed Sacrament" - that were practically unfaltering in these respects; but it was impossible to say that the authorities of my Church were equally clear.

Pan's Labyrinth

On Thursday this week, L., Our Man in the Army and I visited the local cinema to see Pan's Labyrinth. A good film. Very exciting. Set during the last days of the Spanish civil war, it tells the story of a young girl (Ofelia) who is told by a faun (Pan) that she is the reborn princess of a fantasy realm and that, in order to claim her place at her true father's right hand, she must complete three tasks. Ofelia is not flustered. Why should she be - she lives with her stepfather who is a ruthless maniac and who has no care for her or her mother. In fact, he only cares for the latter's unborn child who he hopes and expects to be a son. There is another reason for Ofelia to welcome Pan's challenge. Her home is a remote country house deep in Communist infested woodland. Ofelia's stepfather, Captain Vidal, is in charge of a detachment of Fascist military who are trying to flush out the last of the Communists fighters.

Pan's Labyrinth is a dark and violent film - just like a fairy tale. Ofelia meets strange and murderous creatures on her takss and earns the (verbal) wrath of Pan when she fails in one of them. Elsewhere, Captain Vidal exercises the kind of brutality last seen in Schindler's List by Amon Goeth in his mission to destroy the Communists. Pan's Labyrinth may be a fairy tale but it is not necessarily for children.

The qualities of Pan's Labyrinth are numerous. It is well written and acted. The special effects are also very good. I could have wished for a few more scenes set in light but then the tension would have been diluted and this film lives by the tension that it creates. It did slip into cheesiness or kitsch. The fairy that leads Ofelia to Pan is just a little man with wings stuck on him - not unlike the Victorian interpretations of fairies. He was a different colour to humans and did not speak a recognisable language, but he still looked too human. Also , one of the last scenes in the film, when Ofelia meets her real father and is applauded by the denizens of the fantasy world reminded me very much of the end of Titanic when Rose is reunited with Jack after death in the Titanic. Also present are those who died when the ship sank. As Rose and Jack approach each other, they also break out into applause. It also reminded me of the end of Schindler's List when the Auchwitz survivors plant stones on Schindler's grave. A profoundly good moment in time but a disaster in terms of cinematic quality. Ofelia's applause was not a disaster, but neither was it necessary.

Film critic Mark Kermode called Pan's Labyrinth the best film of 2006. I am not in a position to judge the film on its technical merits, but in terms of sheer enjoyment, I have to say that as much as I did enjoy it, I can think of several other films that I enjoyed more last year - Casino Royale, Syriana, The Constant Gardener and Wah-Wah.

If you watch this film, be warned. There is no happy ending. Labyrinth does not state whether or not the fantasy world is a figment of Ofelia's imagination or real, but such suggestions as it does give strongly suggest to me the former. That is a shame. Ever the idealist, I like happy endings in films. The mopping up operation against the Communists ends badly for the Fascists, particularly Captain Vidal, but also for Ofelia. Despite this, she completes the third of her tasks, but her applause is not the last we see of her. That is the terrible consquence of Captain Vidal's murderous act of violence upon her.

The Catholic Press This Week

This morning, following Joanna Bogle's exhortation, I added the Catholic Times to my Catholic press 'shopping basket'. The reason? In said newspaper St Blogdom's favourite auntie interviews one of the parish's more popular British Catholic bloggers - Fr Timothy Finigan of The Hermeneutic of Continuity. Before continuing, let me post an apology to Joee Blogs. When I read Bogle's post on the subject...

Readers of Catholic blogs - you really MUST get this week's CATHOLIC TIMES (no, it's not available on-line. Go to your local church this Sunday and buy it there. It has a feature interview with Father Timothy Finigan of the Hermeneutic of Continuity, written by fellow-blogger JB.

... the first thought that came to mind was 'Joee Blogs has interviewed Fr Sean?' Sorry JB (the other JB), you are probably too busy escaping the nefarious attentions of trendy nuns to be journalisting!

Anyway, back to the article. It provides a nice glimpse at the man behind the keyboard although it doesn't really add much to what we know about him already from the blog. It's best use, therefore, would be to build interest in blogging by Catholics.

I must, mention the bullet point at the end of the interview: 'You can reach Fr Tim's blog by tapping 'Hermeneutic of continuity' [sic] into Google or other search engines on the internet' which is a long way of saying 'Fr. Tim's blog can be read at...'. The latter would surely be preferable as the knowledge that 'well, first I have to go to Google, then I type in xxx and then pick it out of the list that follows' will probably put off possible visitors from visiting the HofC. Giving its URL, however, takes them straight to where they want to go - no fuss.

***

The Tablet has an interesting account of the Anglican Primates' meeting in Tanzania. A couple of days ago, Arathorn said to me that he wished the bishops would not be called 'primates' as the title made him think of apes. I agreed. Perhaps we could go further and put a bunch of apes in charge of the Anglican communion. They could hardly do more damage to it then some of these bishops have done, specifically, those hailing from America. Amazingly, but perhaps with hindsight, unsurprisingly, the Primates came to an agreement. The deal reached requires that the American Episcopal church promise to not ordain any more actively homosexual bishops and not authorise same-sex blessings. If the Episcopal church refuses to bow to these demands then maybe schism will be on the cards again. Given the prodigious ability of the Anglican Primates to fudge issues, however, another compromise cannot be ruled out.

The Tablet also has a very debatable article by a Jesuit on Catholic liturgy. He argues that there should be only one Rite in the western Church on the grounds that converts have misrepresented the liturgical tradition of the Catholic Church. It is an article that only a modern day Jesuit could have written, which is both a blessing and a curse.

***

A couple of stories in The Catholic Herald jumped out at me. As is well known, Professor Richard Dawkins is the most boring man in the world. If the existence of the multiverse could be proved, he may take that title as well. The reason for Dawkins' supreme boringness is his single minded dedication to bashing religion even though he is an expert in science not theology. Determined to overhaul him, however, is not a man but an organisation: the Anti Defamation League in America. The ADL is a Jewish organisation dedicated to fighting anti-semitism. So far so good. But According to the Herald it boycotted an interfaith conference because it was being attended by Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger who is a Jewish convert. Ridiculous. If true, this is an example of an organisation being blinded by the righteousness of its cause. Or by the darkness caused by its head disappearing up its own rear end. According to the article, Cardinal Lustiger calls himself a "fulfilled Jew". It does not take a genius to see how Jews would be offended by this self description, however, Cardinal Lustiger has in other ways shown himself to be a friend of Jews. Does all that count for nothing? Seemingly not to the ADL.

Staying with the Jewish theme, on the Letters page, a writer gives a review of The Myth of Hitler's Pope. The title, of course, alludes to John Cornwell's hatchet job on Pius XII. Apparently he has retracted his claims against Pius XII. Just as well because according to the reviewer, Myth provides a well researched debunking of Cornwell's book. Is the Jewish theme contained within the book's pages? No, for its author is a Rabbi. Pius XII was known as a friend of the Jews in his lifetime. He will be known again when people return to the facts and away from the tiresome spite of the likes of the Anti Defamation League.

You Got Sin, We Got Salvation

This morning I visited Westminster Cathedral for the Ash Wednesday Mass, taking a relaxing walk through central London as I did so. To relax was good as I would be preceeding Mass with a visit to the confessional.

At the Cathedral I joined the long queue of like minded people. Three priests were on duty so it wasn't too long before I was nearing the head of the queue, by which time the 12:30 Mass was underway. There was the readings and homily and then the imposition of the ashes. Now, as people lined up to receive theirs, I happened to see a priest in cassock and alb standing next to the wall taking a photograph of the goings on. Hmm. I thought, I don't know what Fr Mark Langham, Cathedral administrator and author of the discreetly titled Solomon, I Have Surpassed Thee blog looks like, but I wonder if that is him. I shall have to take a look at his blog later on.

Take a look I did, and lo and behold, this!

Fr Langham is standing with the Lady Chapel right behind and to his right and the queue for the confessionals to his left. At the moment this photograph was taken, I was sitting with two or three in front of me. What a small world we (bloggers) live in!

About confession. When talking about spiritual things it is behoven upon one to be solemn and serious, so, just to be contrary, let me mention two distractions I had today. The first came early on in the queue when for some inexplicable reason, I started thinking of the Guns N Roses song, You Could Be Mine. Well, you could give the title a spiritual interpretation, but would be hard pressed to say the same about the rest of the song. The second distraction came at about the same time I saw Fr. Langham. Our Man in the Army and I had been txt mssgng each other as I walked to the Cathedral and I began thinking of those messages again. It really was all I could do not to laugh out loud! I trust that I am not the only one to start thinking funny thoughts at inappropriate moments. At least, I hope I'm not.

The last word for today

Arathorn has a blog!

Arathorn (aka my dad) has hitherto not been known for his engagement with t'internet, being more concerned with puzzles and crosswords in the Times newspaper and such like. But now, perhaps intrigued by the on-line blogging exploits by two of his offspring, he has started his own blog. Visit it here.

The Word on Women

Hat tip to Super Duper, Women are, of course, deeply mysterious creatures of the Lord so it is nice to get some guidance on how one should regard them!

There's no other word for it

There is a new blog in the Catholic blogosphere called Wanton Popery. I bet you can't guess what it is about. Visit the site - it is beautifully laid out and has some wonderful photographs, including a few of the Venice pre-Lent carnival. This is my favourite:

And what about this cartoon:

Beaconsfield Revisited

Further to my visit to Beaconsfield...

Yesterday I sent an e-mail to the parish priest of St Teresa's to say thank you for keeping Chesterton's church so well. Well, it isn't Chesterton's church, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I asked in the e-mail where the original gravestone was. Today, I received a reply from the parish secretary in which she said that it was now in the Presbytery garden. Let's hope out of the wind! Here are a couple of more photos:

This plaque is at the back of the church. What more need be said?

The Holy Family

Memorial to Frenchmen who died in WWII

New Year with Tessa

So, it was cloth cap at the ready and off to February's Tessa meeting this afternoon. For those who don't know, the TSSA is the union to which I belong. The meeting was scheduled for 4:45. I arrived at 4:35 feeling very pleased with myself for being ten minutes early for once. Upon doing so, I heard voices in the meeting room. Thinking that my fellows had also arrived early, I entered - and walked straight into some one else's meeting. Excusing myself with slightly less coolness than a cat would have managed, I sat myself in the ante chamber, took out my Stoics book and started to read. Now, the meeting was due to begin at 4:45. 4:45 came and 4:45 went. The meeting that I stumbled into finished and no one except one lady arrived for our one. Then, just before 5, said lady checked her palm top and announced that she had just found an e-mail saying that the meeting was yesterday! Oh well, better luck next month. So I took the lift back down to the ground floor and handed my temporary pass back to the receptionists, explaining what had happened with a wry comment.

But! They told me that one of the other comrades had passed them just a moment ago and according to their list of room bookings, our meeting was definately today. So back I went and sure enough, Comrade 1. was there. I told him what had happened. He called the Chair. The Chair told him that he was on his way.

So, the meeting took place after all. As usual, it went on too long: two hours. It was not as if our agenda was that long, either. Respect for confidentiality forbids going into any detail about what was, however, to describe it in brush strokes, we talked about issues in my own section of the company, negotiations on issues I cannot remember between Tessa & company bigshots and which have revealed the general unhelpfulness and incompetance of the latter. I daresay they have their side of the story though, and preperations for this year's Tessa conference. Comrade 1 read out the titles of the proposed motions. There was one on religion and homophobia which I will certainly speak against if it is proposed as one of the two motions that our branch supports at the next branch meeting. This is what it says:

That this Conference is concerned that the exemption for religious beliefs afforded under the Employment Equality (Sexual Orientation) Regulations 2003 runs the risk of being interpreted very widely. It potentially can be used to prevent lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender people from working for any school, voluntary organisation, charity or private company with a religious ethos. There are growing views amongst many religious organisations to adopt more extreme positions in relation to sexual orientation. This is all the more worrying in view of the fact that the Communities Secretary, Ruth Kelly, who is a member of Opus Dei, is responsible for piloting further Government proposals on goods and services through Parliament.
Conference supports the introduction of the Equality Act (Sexual Orientation) Regulations (Northern Ireland) 2006 and also the work of the TUC project on Sexual Orientation and Religion or Belief Regulations.
Conference therefore urges the EC to press the Labour government to ensure the maintenance of the principles underlying the Employment Equality Regulations by ensuring that only posts that are strictly religious in nature are exempted from the provisions of the Employment Equality (Sexual Orientation) Regulations 2003. Such posts may be subject to similar provisions to those applying to genuine occupational qualifications under the Sex Discrimination Act.

Other right-on subjects were there: anti-racism, disability and even workers rights in Columbia! There is also a motion condemning far right groups and Islamophobia, a new vice for our times.

So, a good meeting. As can be seen, I don't agree with everything that Tessa is about but on the individual level there are some good folk there who are very ready to help members who get into trouble at work. Even if one is not left wing, one should join a union for this reason alone.

Berrydict dreams of spies

It was a cool February morning and Berrydict was enjoying a nice rest in the Apostolic Palace. At the beginning of his reign as the papal cat, Berry had made a real effort to present himself to his guests for meetings. Now, however, as he had grown a little too comfortable in his 'job', he had slipped into the standard practise of all cats, that is to say, he let his guests come to him and would not rise until they were less than a foot away or carrying biscuits. Unless, of course, he didn't recognise their smell. If that happened, and if it is not too impolite to say so, all hell broke loose.

So it was that when Father Peter Dampel, Relator of the cause of Pope Purrus XII, came to visit him, Berrydict paid the Jesuitcat no mind until he was almost within breathing distance of him. And then, feeling particularly lazy, he did no more than open a nonchalant eye to see who it was. Like all the Jesuitcats, Fr Peter had a shiny black coat. You probably don't know this, but Jesuitcats are the origin of the belief that good fortune will come to you if a black cat crosses your path. This is because of their cleverness. St Whisknatius thought that Jesuitcats should be as clever as their owners. Thus, on many occasions when their paths crossed that of humans, they were able to help them in some way or other. Thus, a superstition was born. St Whisknatius would not have approved, but it did get the soldiercats for Christ into many homes that would otherwise have been closed to them.
"Hullo, Father, how are you?" Berrydict asked, heaving himself up. One of his bones clicked with embarrassing loudness.
"Very well, Holy Furriness, very well. Do you know why I have come?"
"Have you discovered a new puddle to lick water from?"
"Berrydict, you have a bowl over there." Fr Peter said, disdainfully (he was a very serious cat), motioning across the room to the very fine, gilded bowl in the corner of the room.
"I know, I know... but you know how it is when you go for a walk..." Both Berrydict and Fr Dampel were German, but the papal cat had been in Italy for so long he had lapsed completely into Italian habits of laziness. Fr Dampel, however, lived in Germany all his long life and was German from nose to tale and back again. Thus, he was very efficient and very disapproving of all forms of casualness. Remembering this, Berrydict sighed, "How is Father Kolvenpaw?" he asked, desirous of changing the subject before Fr Dampel started to boss him about.
"Ah, very well also, yes. He sends his kind regards."
"Looking forward to retiring next year?"
"Indeed. He longs for his basket back in Druten. Now, I came to you to talk about Pope Purrus. You may have read recently about efforts by the KGB to infiltrate the Catican." Berrydict vaguely remembered Monsignor Catswein talking about this matter with Cardinal Lefurda the other day but there had been a fly in the room at the same time and he had been more interested in catching it than listening to them.

"Of course!" he lied.
"Well, I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn't believe all that the spy Snakeca said. He has a vested interested in making out that the KGB infiltrated the Catican. It justifies his existence as a spy."
"Wouldn't it be exciting if there was a spy though..." Berrydict mused. A hard stare from Fr Dampel suggested otherwise. Berrydict fell silent.
"Just so you know," Fr Dampel continued, "Snakeca said that between 1960 - 62 the KGB sought to steal and doctor Pope Purrus' letters so as to make him look bad. But he thinks that between those dates the letters were in the Secret Archive. Except, they weren't!" Fr Dampel said, triumphantly, "At the beginnning of the sixties they were in the archive of the Secretary of State!"
"Ah, very good!" Berrydict replied; but he wasn't impressed at all. He was still thinking of spies.

That night, Berrydict was curled up and half asleep when he sensed a movement nearby. He looked up quickly. There was something moving under the cover of the bed! As quick as a shot, Berrydict sat up, knelt down and waved his tail eagerly. It was definitely a mouse. Perhaps a communist mouse. Or Paisley Mouse. Or both. Mmmm. Berrydict could not help clicking his mouth and licking his lips. The little mound moved towards him teasingly. Berrydict jumped at it with his claws unsheathed. "Ouch!" a voice cried. Berrydict looked up. Oh dear. He had been sleeping halfway down his owner's bed and had just jumped on his hand. The Pope sat up and rubbed his hand.

"That was my writing hand!" he explained, "And to think I was going to finish writing the Motu Proprio tomorrow. Now it will have to wait even longer!"
"Maiow!" Berrydict replied, and having lost his appetite for spies, went back to sleep.

more berrydict stories here

A Visit to Beaconsfield (III)

The last part of my visit to Beaconsfield took me from G. K. Chesterton's grave to his house, Top Meadow. The Old Town of Beaconsfield is very leafy and is a well off suburb. I saw a couple of Range Rovers along the way, several smart cars and even someone drive a Ferrari. Thinking back to my first visit to Beaconsfield in the mid 90s, I am sure that (a) Top Meadow was in the ownership of a church organisation of some sort and being used as a retreat centre (b) was hidden behind a large hedge. I may have been wrong or time may have just moved on because this time the house was no longer hidden. In fact, the word on the street (or rather, internet) was that it is now under private ownership. This proved to be correct.

When I arrived at the house, I found a large-ish house with a mock tudor front and paved forecourt. A neatly trimmed hedge marked the border of the house and pavement. Not wishing that the occupier should look out of his window and wonder what on earth a stranger was doing taking photographs of his property, I rang his doorbell to get permission first. I rang the bell and a couple of dogs within took up the song. A few minutes later, a slightly harassed man appeared and, when I asked him if I could take my pictures, readily gave his assent. I haven't published the photos here because I did not ask him if it would be alright to do so and I have not seen any other photographs published on the internet that would give me a precedent to do so. What do people think? Top Meadow is a building of historical significance but is also a man's house - would you publish pictures of it to your blog or website?

As you can see above, I have gone so far as to published the blue plaque that is over the front door. It doesn't identify the place, which I suppose is what I am concerned about doing here, so that should be fine. To make up, here are a couple of other photos from the church. The first is a stained glass window of St Teresa. Of course, the wall was not pitch black - that is my camera 'skills' letting me down, but it does serve to show up the stained glass window very well.

There are several memorials to parishioners past in the church. This stained glass window is possibly my favourite one. It shows St Michael and St George and is dedicated to John and Robert Sawyer who both died during World War Two. I wonder if they were in the army.

This final close up of the Chesterton memorial stained glass window is of particular delight to me as it features two birds at the feet of St Frances of Assisi. The Robin Redbreast is easy to make out but I haven't quite figured out what the other birds are, yet.

Leaving Top Meadow, I wandered back up the road towards the railway station. It had been a very pleasant diversion of a couple of hours and a super start to the weekend. back in London, I transferred from the Bakerloo Line to Victoria, intending to head north and home. As it happened, however, I had got on the southward bound line by accident. Taking this as an obvious sign, I got off at Victoria, headed straight to St. Paul's bookshop beside the cathedral and purchased Maisie Ward's biography of Chesterton as well as a copy of G.K.C.'s own What's Wrong With the World which contains the best opening paragraph for a dedication that I have read in a long time:

To C. F. G. Masterman, M.P.

My Dear Charles,
I originally called this book "What is Wrong," and it would have satisfied your sardonic temper to note the number of social misunderstandings that arose from the use of the title. Many a mild lady visitor opened her eyes when I remarked casually, "I have been doing 'What is Wrong' all this morning." And one minister of religion moved quite sharply in his chair when I told him (as he understood it) that I had to run upstairs and do what was wrong, but should be down again in a minute. Exactly of what occult vice they silently accused me I cannot conjecture, but I know of what I accuse myself; and that is, of having written a very shapeless and inadequate book, and one that is quite unworthy to be dedicated to you. As far as literature goes, this book is what is wrong, and no mistake.

The Inquisitive Cow on MI5, Old Companies and Anno Domini

MI5 crest

dúnadan: Welcome to behind a wall in Publican Will's garden in Little Wimple! It is nightime, breezy and very cold and I am having to whisper into the microphone! With me is my friend and reason for this odd state of affairs, Gerrie the inquisitive cow! Gerrie, why are we here?
inq. cow: On the other side of the road is Number 52, home of Mr Baldwin, the village theologian. He has a very pleasant garden that he uses to play cricket with his grandchildren during the summer. We are not here to admire the garden, though; we are here to watch the wall that separates the garden from the road. It is a grey brick wall built with the house two hundred years ago. But one of the bricks is loose! And in the space behind it is a secret letter...
dúnadan: Explain more!
inq. cow: Well, I recently became very interested in learning about Britain's secret intelligence services.
dúnadan: You mean MI5 and MI6?
inq. cow: Actually, I mean the Secret Service as that has been M15's proper name since 1931. The name MI5 - which means Military Intelligence section 5 - was only inofficial use between 1916 and 1929.
dúnadan: I see. Does that mean that MI6 is not really called that as well?
inq. cow: Not officially! It's proper name is the Secret Intelligence Service. For those who don't know, I should add that MI5 deals with intelligence work in Britain while MI5 does the same for abroad.
dúnadan: So, what is the connection between the secret services and a wall in Little Wimple with a loose brick? Oh dear, it is starting to rain. Where is my umbrella?
inq. cow: Don't open it! We'll be seen! In answer to your question, I have started a spy ring with the Learned Owl and Bertie Pig. We have spent the week spying on everyone and leaving letters for each other in secret places. These kinds of locations are called 'dead letter boxes'. At three AM Bertie is due to come and pick up his letter. That is only a few minutes away!

dúnadan: Are you worried he won't make it? Is that why we are here now?
inq. cow: Of course no--- shh! I heard a noise!
dúnadan: Don't worry! That was the pub door opening! It is Publican Will putting the rubbish out!
publican will: Evening all! A bit wet to be out tonight!
inq. cow: We are waiting for Bertie Pig to claim his secret letter!
dúnadan: Gerrie - Shhh!
publican will: Oh aye, well, I tell ye what, if either of ye fancy a whiskey to warm ye up af'erwards, then jes knock on the door - we're havin' a lock in till morn time. Farmer Bill is inside and the drinks are goin' well! >sound of the pub door closing<
dúnadan: Gerrie, you can't go telling everyone about your letter!
inq. cow: Why not?
dúnadan: Well, it is secret!
inq. cow: Hmm. But I trust Publican Will!
dúnadan: I think you have a little more to learn about being a spy! While we wait for Bertie, tell me what else you have been up to this week!
inq. cow: Most of the week, of course, has been taken up with cleaning up after Tecumseh Squirrel's Triumph last weekend! However, I have also been corresponding with cousin Algie, the Capitalist Cow.
dúnadan: Who is really a bull.
inq cow: That's right. I have learnt from him the top three oldest companies in the world. Would you like to know what they are?
dúnadan: Of course!
inq. cow: Well, in third place is a French wine company named Goulaine. It was founded in A.D. 1000. The current chairman of this family firm is Robert Goulaine, the 11th Marquis of Goulaine in western France. In second place is a Japanese hotel company called Hoshi Ryokan. It was founded in A.D.717. But in first place, founded in A. D. 578, is Kongō Gumi Co., Ltd: 株式会社金剛組 in Japanese. Kongō Gumi was a construction firm that was founded by a Korean carpenter named Shigemitsu Kongō. He was invited to Japan by Prince Shotoku to build a Buddhist temple. And building is what Shigemitsu Kongō's descendents carried on doing for the next 1,428 years.
dúnadan: How interesting! I am impressed that you know some Japanese as well!
inq. cow: I researched it especially for this occasion. I don't believe Herbert Goose has been there! Anyway, I must conclude by saying Kongō Gumi's history ended in January 2006 when it went into liquidation and was bought by the Takamatsu Corporation. The company continues, but only as a wholly owned subsiderry of Takamatsu. I cannot say that word! Sub-sid-ee-airee!

a detail from a Kongō Gumi carving

dúnadan: Well, it had a good run! A quick question: What does A. D. mean and who invented it?

inq. cow: Anno Domini or Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi The Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The term was invented in 525 by Dionysius Exiguus a monk. He didn't popularise it though. We are using the A.D. designation today thanks to the Venerable Bede who used it in his ecclesiastical history of England!

Dionysius makes his ADdition to the calendar

dúnadan: I see. What does Dionysius Exiguus mean?

inq. cow: Ah. Dennis the Humble!
dúnadan: There is no getting past you, Gerrie, your inquisitiveness leads you to all kinds of knowledge!
inq. cow: And yet, there are always new things to learn! Wait - Shh! - I can hear Bertie coming!
dúnadan: Yes, he has a very distinctive whistle. So, it's whisper time again. By poking my head just over the wall, I can see Bertie come towards us, veering towards Mr Baldwin's wall. I must drop down as he is looking around suspiciously... there is the sound of the brick being removed... and the letter being opened!
inq. cow: Hurrah! Well done, Bertie!
bertie pig: Hallo Gerrie!
dúnadan: Gerrie! Shh! What are you doing?! This is not what spies do! Come back--- oh, goodness, she has just run out of the garden to greet Bertie. I better follow...
inq. cow: What do you think of my letter, Bertie?!
bertie pig: It is most excellently done!
dúnadan: >puff!< It is blank!
bertie pig: Gerrie wrote it in invisible ink! Did you use lemon juice, Gerrie?
inq. cow: Yes, I did!
bertie pig: Well, I have my torch...>bertie shines torch on page<. The letter says 'HELLO BERTIE, TODAY, MRS FARMER BILL ASKED IF I WOULD LIKE TO HELP HER PUT OUT HER WASHING BY HOLDING HER WASHING BASKET IN MY MOUTH WHILE SHE HUNG EVERYTHING UP. SHE SENDS HER REGARDS AND PROMISES TO SEND A DEAD LETTER TO YOU HERSELF! LOTS OF LOVE, GERRIE COW XXX
dúnadan: Hmm. That is not the kind of secret letter that I was thinking you would send. Are they all like that?
inq. cow: Of course. What else would they be like?
dúnadan: Oh... I don't know! Actually, that is a good kind of spying letter. Who would like a pint of beer?
inq. cow: The rain doesn't bother us, dúnadan, why don't you go on. We need to plan more secret letters!
dúnadan: In that case, I shall bid you farewell! Goodbye Bertie; happy spying both!

index of interviews with the inquisitive cow

Scoop - Evelyn Waugh

On Friday evening, I gave thought to what I might read on the coach to Northampton on Saturday. There were a couple of contenders for this honour, namely, The Lords of Avaris by David Rohl and The Stoics by F. H. Sandbach. Unfortunately, the latter is a big hardback and really too heavy to be taken to a rugby game while the other is a scholarly tome more suitable for the quiet of one's home rather than bumpy roads with 50 other people on a coach. My thoughts turned to Evelyn Waugh. I don't know why, but they did, and I thought to myself that it was a shame I had not bought his book Scoop which a friend had recommended a while back, because I could have read that.

As it happened, however, I looked up at pile of books next to my printer on the desk shelf and what did I see but Scoop. I had bought it and never got round to reading it. The pleasure this generated in me was equal and superior to that of finding money under rugs and other household items, which, for want of proper tidying skills, happens quite often.

So, on Saturday I scooped Scoop up and left for Twickenham. What a great book! I have previously read Waugh's Sword of Honour trilogy which I remember well but with no great passion and Brideshead Revisited which I totally missed the point of. I read it and thought it a very good story of men and war. Apparently it is about religion too - the workings of divine grace - but I missed all that. Scoop is a comic tale of how William Boot, the Nature correspondent of The Daily Beast is sent to the country of Ishmaelia to cover the civil war there.

Why would a newspaper send its Nature correspondent to cover its war? Is it because Boot's sister mischievously substituted references to badgers to the great crested grebe in his previous article, obliging a major in Wales to challenge him to name a single occasion on which a grebe has been known to attack young rabbits? As it turns out, no; William Boot is the victim of mistaken identity. The book starts with novelist John Courtney Boot who needs to leave town fast - his American girl won't stop bothering him - he visits Mrs Stitch whose husband works in the Foreign Office hoping she can persuade him to send John to the troubled African nation of Ishmaelia as a spy for the Government. There is not a chance of that, but Mrs Stitch has a few words with Lord Copper, proprietor of the Beast instead. He is amenable to the idea of sending Boot as a journalist. But something gets lost in the translation and it ends up being William Boot who is sent instead.

The book is a joy from start to finish. Waugh may have been writing satire, but I think he had compassion for his characters. Thus, although poor William Boot stumbles from one mishap to another in Ishmaelia, he is never degradated. He even wins an award at the end of the book, although it is true that it ends up going to John Boot after all. Scoop is about the workings of Fleet Street. May the good Lord help us if this is what passes for journalism! A vacuous proprietor, servile servants, expense fiddlers and fiction masquerading as facts. I'm sure it isn't quite like that nowadays, for the most part.

I think that there are four joys attached to reading: 1. Discovering a new author 2. Reading the corpus of a favourite author 3. Rereading a book by a favourite author 4. Rediscovering an author one had known about but had since forgotten. Such has been the length of time between reading Brideshead Revisited, The Sword of Honour trilogy and Scoop that Waugh falls into the fourth category for me. I hope now to stay with category three.

A Visit to Beaconsfield (II)

After leaving St Theresa's church, I walked down the road to the incongruous sound of Jackson by Johnny Cash playing in my ipod towards the local graveyard where Chesterton is buried. A visit here was one of my reasons for coming to Beaconsfield. On my first visit, in the mid nineties, I was struck by the poor condition of GKC's & Francis Chesterton's gravestone. It was very weather worn and becoming hard to read. Now, had I remembered the truth or was it my memory that had faded? Switching off the ipod, I entered the graveyard. Here is G.K. Chesterton's grave as I found it:

And in close up:

Immediately upon seeing the grave I thought to myself that is a new gravestone there. It looked fresh and bright. And indeed, if you compare the photographs above to the photograph on the St Theresa website here then you can plainly see how different they are. Well, I am happy that Chesterton's last resting place is being looked after. It is, however, sad that he is not being remembered by Eric Gill's artistry any more. That brings me to another question - I wonder where the original tombstone now is?

Before moving on, I should say something about the grey slab of stone at the bottom of the photograph. It is not only G.K.Chesterton and his wife who lie here but Dorothy Collins, the young lady who started out as G.K.C.'s secretary and became the daughter-they-never-had. Miss Collins died in 1988 and is buried with the Chestertons.

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed
through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Amen

Tomorrow: to Top Meadow

Beer and good company

Northampton Saints 15 Harlequins 26

I must have been cocky after arriving at the Stoop for my first away game with the Quinssa crowd in plenty of time two weeks ago. Either that or I should have read the advisory e-mail one more time: the coach will be leaving at 9:15am not 9:30. So, I reach Harlequins ground just before the latter time. I am the last to arrive and am booed by a number of my fellows!

Fortunately, the day only went up from there. A swift journey through some pleasant countryside brought us to an excellent country pub called The Navigation just outside Northampton. Driving a big coach down country roads is tricky but our driver pulled it off. He had a hard time of it getting out of the car park afterwards but again proved equal to the task. At the pub, I ate a pleasant minestrone soup and lasagna, downed with two pints of Marston Pedigree beer. Very good, indeed.

Northampton's ground is called Franklin's Gardens. Upon arrival at the ground, I was immediately impressed by its size. I don't know the capacity but it is certainly bigger than the Stoop, which can seat 12,000. Perhaps 15 - 18,000 would fit in here. The ground also has a couple of excellent features. The first is of the water kind. Here it is: Alright, Bath play right next door to a proper river, but I did like this pond.

The second feature I can only describe in words as I did not get a photograph of it. At one end of the ground is a pavilion, in the middle of which, at ground level, is a war memorial. After the game, I met a very pleasant Northampton fan who happens to be the wife of a Leicester Tigers fan who is also a workmate of mine. In the best tradition of this blog, I shall name him the Alter-Geno. When he reads this on Monday, I hope he appreciates the joke! As I was saying, A-G.'s wife told me that every November, at whichever game is closest to Remembrance Sunday, a wreath is laid at the foot of the memorial and a one minute's silence is held. What a good thing that is.

The game. Well, Harlequins got the win and were lucky to do so. Northampton were a different side to the team that we played last November. Back then, Quins were the dominant side and won a no-contest. This time round it was the Saints who dominated. More than that, they played some great, flowing rugby across the pitch. Unfortunately, as was said to me, this was simply sideways back and forth across the pitch. Northampton did not create enough chances and so in the end paid for it.

With that said, they created more than Harlequins who always seemed to be on the backstep. This did not diminish our generosity, however, in a dreadful - though comic - incident at the start of the second half, Saints collected the ball off the kick off and then charged up field to score a try. With the half time score 5 - 7, I had a nasty feeling that my prediction of an away win was going to be wide of the mark. Fortunately, I was proved wrong. Harlequins turned defence into attack. These brought a couple of penalties and a great try from David Strettle just a few feet from the Quins Hoard in the south west corner of the stadium.

Two other incidents are worth recording for posterity. One very comic the other rather less so. In the first incident, Bernie the Dog (Saint's mascot) came to the SW Corner to point out to the Northampton fans that we were singing rather loudly. Admittedly provoked by some Harlequin fans, he then did a faux moon. Obviously feeling cheated, one lady (a Quins fan) then rushed towards him and pulled his shorts down before scarpering down the exit tunnel with Bernie in hot pursuit.

The second incident involved fisticuffs between David Strettle and Ben Cohen on the other side of the pitch. When I saw the touch judge on that side of the stadium fall over I had a good chuckle - he had obviously lost his balance. No, what had actually happened was that when the TJ had tried to put himself between Strettle and Cohen, the latter had flung him out of the way. Mrs A-G told me that Cohen had immediately picked the TJ up again - obviously realising that he had gone too far - but the RFU won't be impressed by such an offence and may well decide to take stern action. It will be a severe blow to Northampton's season if Cohen is banned for any length of time.

At the end of the game, the victorious Harlequin players game back out onto the pitch for their 'warmdown' and came over to the SW Corner to salute the fans who, even after 80 minutes, had not yet lost their voices. Here are those fine folk.

The angle of the photo would have been different except at that point I was walking away to meet A-G's wife. Along the way, I heard a back handed compliment towards the fans from a Saints fan who said that the team did not deserve the support that they got (I imagine most team's don't, really) and a plain barb which I think was directed at me. As I waited for Mrs A-G, a passing Saint's fan commented sarcastically that he had heard that National Division One grounds are pretty good to visit. One can imagine how both these people were feeling at that moment - their team had lost a game they could, and may be should, have won and continue to face the threat of relegation. Harlequin fans would have been no different in that situation.

After the game, as already mentioned, I had a quick pint and chat with A-G's wife. This is what is so good about rugby: fans of the opposing sides can come together and whatever the result there is no aggression. Then, it was back to the coach and to home.

A Visit to Beaconsfield (I)

After spending the week reading about Hilaire Belloc, I took the afternoon off work today to visit Beaconsfield, home of his great friend G. K. Chesterton. Travelling from Marylebone station (which I found myself pronouncing Mar-lee-bone, Mary-lebone and Ma-re-lee-bone at different times and to different people) I arrived at Beaconsfield Railway station after a very pleasant half an hour journey through pleasantly undulating countryside. My first destination was St Theresa's Catholic church. When Chesterton was received into the Church (in 1923) the church was a ramshackle structure. Thanks to him, a proper church was built. Here it is from the back, on Warwick Road,

As you can see, the church is bathed in sunlight. Clearly it is being blessed by the Lord. As can be seen by the photograph below, the church is quite small. But it has a really well carved set of Stations of the Cross (by Eric Gill?), icons and stained glass windows.

Including this one of Sta Francis of Assisi, which if you view the dedication at the bottom...

... you can see that the window was given in memory of G.K.C. and his wife, Francis.

As mentioned, the church is dedicated to St Theresa of Lisieux - the 'Little Flower' - and it has a nice website which you can visit here. Present on the website are photos of the church that are far better than the ones I took (I have never really got to grips with my digicam, despite having it for four years) so I commend the website to you.

Although the church is dedicated to St Theresa, the parish has a devotion to two great English saints: St Thomas More and St John Fisher. This beautiful icon is in the church porch. Below it, you can see some unusual offerings to the saints - various pairs of glasses! Presumably, the shelf doubles as a Missing Items Point.

As I left the church, I almost missed something that I would have kicked myself at missing had I learnt about it afterwards: an engraved poem by Chesterton. It is called The Ballad of God Makers. That blessing of the Lord is shining ever more brightly in this close up,

So, that was my visit to St Theresa's Catholic church. After stopping to pray for the repose of Mr and Mrs Chesterton's souls, I moved on down the road to where he is buried. On my last visit to Beaconsfield - ten years ago - I was surprised by the poor condition of his gravestone; it was very weatherworn. Surely such a great figure deserved better. Find out tomorrow what I found out today.

The Ballad Of God-Makers
G. K. Chesterton

A bird flew out at the break of day
From the nest where it had curled,
And ere the eve the bird had set
Fear on the kings of the world.

The first tree it lit upon
Was green with leaves unshed;
The second tree it lit upon
Was red with apples red;

The third tree it lit upon
Was barren and was brown,
Save for a dead man nailed thereon
On a hill above a town.

That right the kings of the earth were gay
And filled the cup and can;
Last night the kings of the earth were chill
For dread of a naked man.

‘If he speak two more words,’ they said,
‘The slave is more than the free;
If he speak three more words,’ they said,
‘The stars are under the sea.’

Said the King of the East to the King of the West,
I wot his frown was set,
‘Lo; let us slay him and make him as dung,
It is well that the world forget.’

Said the King of the West to the King of the East,
I wot his smile was dread,
‘Nay, let us slay him and make him a god,
It is well that our god be dead.’

They set the young man on a hill,
They nailed him to a rod;
And there in darkness and in blood
They made themselves a god.

And the mightiest word was left unsaid,
And the world had never a mark,
And the strongest man of the sons of men
Went dumb into the dark.

Then hymns and harps of praise they brought,
Incense and gold and myrrh,
And they thronged above the seraphim,
The poor dead carpenter.

‘Thou art the prince of all,’ they sang,
‘Ocean and earth and air.’
Then the bird flew on to the cruel cross,
And hid in the dead man’s hair.

‘Thou art the sun of the world,’ they cried,
‘Speak if our prayers be heard.’
And the brown bird stirred in the dead man’s hair,
And it seemed that the dead man stirred.

Then a shriek went up like the world’s last cry
From all nations under heaven,
And a master fell before a slave
And begged to be forgiven.

They cowered, for dread in his wakened eyes
The ancient wrath to see;
And the bird flew out of the dead Christ’s hair,
And lit on a lemon-tree.

Old Thunder - J Pearce (IV)

You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

On 27th July 1930, Belloc celebrated his sixtieth birthday in the company of 24 especially invited friends at the Adelphi hotel in London. It had been intended that no speeches would be made, but towards the end of the evening, someone suggested that Chesterton make one after all. He did, and thanked A. D. Peters, Belloc's literary agent, for organising the party. Peters then stood up and 'replied that the real credit should go to J. B. Morton'. So, Morton stood up and declared solemnly that, actually, the idea originated with J. C. Squire. The joke was now on with each guest declaring that the man to his right was the one who was really responsible for the party. Belloc loved his friends and loved his friendships. He must have had a good night on the 27th.

But as time went by, Belloc saw each of them fall away. G. K. Chesterton died in 1936. Fr Vincent McNabb died in 1943 and Maurice Baring in 1945. His youngest son, Peter, was killed in action in 1941 while his sister, Marie Belloc Lowndes, died in 1947. Upon hearing of the death of C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien wrote to his daughter, Priscilla, that it felt like an axe blow to his roots. Tolkien wrote that despite the fact that his friendship with Lewis had cooled a decade and more earlier, so how much more keenly did Belloc take the deaths of these people who were still so dear to him at the end.

Through the 30s and up to mid 40s, Belloc continued to write. He edited G. K.'s Weekly for a year after Chesterton's death and wrote the pamphlet An Essay on the Restoration of Property for the Distributist League. Pearce calls it 'one of the most important and one of the most neglected of Belloc's works'. In 1939, he published The Last Rally, a study of Charles II. It was one of Belloc's last major works. During World War II, Belloc wrote a series of articles for The Times on the war - just as he had done during World War I with the Land and Water series. To his distress, however, the Times terminated his contract during the war. In the paper's opinion, Belloc's articles were not light hearted enough.

The last few years of Hilaire Belloc's life were sad. He suffered a series of strokes which progressively robbed him of his physical and mental strength. Pearce describes the reactions of a number of friends who met him during these days. The strong and proud man of yesteryear was gone. Buried with Peter and Elodie. They met a shuffling, confused man with dirty clothes and a cantankerous temper. But this was not the whole story, even then. Belloc remembered his verses still and was not yet so befuddled that he could not recite them or sing his songs.

Hilaire Belloc died at the age of 82 on 15th July 1953. He died to this world and entered into eternity, one prays, holding the hand of his beloved wife. As I said previously, Old Thunder has revealed to me Belloc's vulnerability. It has also shown how restless he was. Restless inside and out. The latter lead to his many travels across America and Europe. The former lead him to Mass. And I think it would have lead him there even if Elodie Belloc had lived as long as he for they were both hungry, ever so hungry, for the Lord. Of all the great things that Belloc did, wrote and believed in, that is what I love most about him. So I say, requiescat in pace, but also ora pro nobis. Amen.

click on the photo above to visit Amazon .co.uk & buy this most excellent book

From today's Times newspaper

Catholics set to pass Anglicans as leading UK church

Roman Catholicism is set to become the dominant religion in Britain for the first time since the Reformation because of massive migration from Catholic countries across the world.

Full report here

Bagsy the role of Inquisitor General!

On Sadness

The United States of America is a wonderful country that has been a very great blessing to the world. There are two features of her life, however, that I do not understand and could never regard as being permissable let alone justifiable. The first of these is her gun laws. What justification there is for private citizens to own them is beyond my comprehension. The second is her medical service. As I understand it (and I speak under correction) if you have money, you get treated. If you don't, well, you don't. In a civilised society, this seems to me to be a scandal. A few days ago, I discovered the Abbey Roads 2 blog, written by a Mr Terry Nelson. At this point, may I interrupt myself to say that my heart is lifted every time I discover an enjoyable new blog, and doubly so if it is as good as this one. I can say this freely because I do not know Mr Nelson and he doesn't know me - and probably not Cally's Kitchen either - so no embarrassment. Anyway, back to the point. The American system of medical care is scandalous, and Abbey Roads has a very graphic post that demonstrates that this is the case. You can read it here. Be warned, it is very sad.

One reason why the post is so sad is that the victim is disabled man. It is my contention that we unconsciously grade the sadness that we feel towards victims and do so rightly. For example, if a soldier dies, we are sad but only to a point. He was a soldier, after all. If a man dies, again, we are sad, but to a point: men are strong, after all. Women are the fairer and weaker sex and so when a woman comes to harm, our sadness grows correspondingly. As it does if a disabled person is hurt and especially so if a child comes to harm. If I may adjust my statement, I would like to say that we grade our sadness according to people's perceived vulnerability, for there is such a thing as a weak(ened) man or strong woman. This is why what we do is good. Imagine how awful it would be if we grieved the same for a man of eighty and a baby boy or girl.

You may have noticed that I have left out one significant category above - that of animals. But you may think that it is hardly appropriate that we speak of the sadness that we feel towards humans and animals who have come to harm in the same breath, but I would contend that it is not only appropriate but holy. Mankind is a bloodied race, not only on the battlefield but in the arts too. In fact, we have let fly so much blood and gore in films and in books and all other forms of media that we have become - to a point - immune to it. But only in respect of our fellow Man. Not in regards animals. For this reason, when we hear of harm that has come to animals, we are outraged. The sadness that we feel towards animal victims, therefore, is an indication of the level of sadness that we should feel towards other humans. I had an experience of feeling saddened - deeply so - towards an animal victim of harm when I read the Abbey Roads blog this week. In a post titled 'Don't buy Chinese Products', Nelson describes a news report which showed a dog being skinned alive for its fur. This is not only an outrage but absolutely and utterly wicked. Hellish, even. What makes the matter even worse is that the dog is alive and licking the hand of the one skinning it: begging for mercy in the only way it knows how. In discussing this evil act, Nelson says with too much charity that 'one less emotional may argue, these are just dogs and cats.'. Perhaps this is so, if the one less emotional is also less human - not more beastly, however, but sub-human. Just because it is an animal being hurt does not mean we should be apologetic about our anger. Mankind is the steward of the earth. The animal kingdom is under his rule. Man has a king to answer to and must act in all his ways to ensure that animals are kept in conditions befitting their relationship to the king: His creation even if not His children. Therefore, I am not arguing that we should really deal with animals as virtual humans. That is an absurd notion, but they are creatures of God and we should remember that. With really admirable honesty, Mr Nelson says that when he saw this report, his first desire was that China be consumed by a holocaust. I have no problem with praying for the downfall of the despicable regime that rules China with an iron fist and allows the dehumanisation of humans through the mistreatment of animals (and so many other ways) to take place. At the same time, I pray ardently for the conversion of the souls of the communists and animal killers as well. This is what makes our sadness towards animals holy. If it doesn't, it makes us more like the afore mentioned wicked in China.

Catholic Blog Awards

Voting has been going on for the last few days for the 2007 Catholic Blog Awards. If you like reading Catholic blogs then why not click the link and register your vote for your favourite blogger. Actually, regarding the blog awards, I have noticed that all the blogs which have suggested that you go and vote have without fail been ones which have been nominated themselves. Cally's Kitchen was nominated for absolutely ZILCH so I am pleased to be the first non-nominated blog to advertise the awards. Well, I say 'pleased' but I do, of course, mean self righteous. Cally's Kitchen is a sleeping Catolic giant blog, something which gives me the opportunity to cheer myself up with this nice photograph:

Good luck to the nominees & well done all Catholic bloggers whether you were nominated or not. I for one have been very happy to read you.

Old Thunder - J Pearce (III)

Hilaire Belloc by Eric Gill

Hilaire Belloc loved his family deeply but, following the death of his wife Elodie in 1914, lost a certain amount of control over the youngest four of his four children: Eleanor, Elizabeth, Peter and Hilary. Charlotte Balfour, a friend of the Bellocs, records visiting the siblings and being overwhelmed by their free living. Perhaps they had a little too much freedom than was good for them, for while Eleanor, the eldest of the four, remained with her father until her marriage, Elizabeth first fell out with Eleanor while still a teen (never reconciling with her), left home and became a wanderer apparently also sleeping rough in London on occasion. The way Joseph Pearce writes about her I could not help but wonder if she was mentally ill, but this is only conjecture. Peter Belloc left Britain to sail the high seas on a Spanish ship while Hilary left for America where he became a rich businessman. Peter was simply pursuing his own course. Hilary, alas, rejected his father and - like Elizabeth - seldom returned to Sussex.

If some modern historians are to be believed, Belloc himself had little love for the Jews. In fact, he has been accused of anti-semitism. Pearce quotes a journalist (?) named Frederic Raphael who in 2000 accused Belloc of having a 'programmatic hatred' of Jews. As Pearce says, this accusation is 'patently absurd'. Belloc did believe that there was such a thing as a 'Jewish problem', but vehemently denied that this meant he was anti-semitic. In defence of Belloc's position, Pearce mentions a book of Belloc's called The Jews which sets out his analysis of the Jewish problem so-called and how it could be resolved. I have to confess that, as I write, I am still not clear as to what exactly that problem was. It seems to be related to the dominant position of (some) Jews in high office in the political and commercial world, but this is a matter that needs further investigation.

The 20s continued to be a productive period for Belloc. Of his various writings, most significant was a novel titled Belinda, a satire of nineteenth century manners. Its successor was Survivals and New Arrivals, being an account of heresies old and new. Pearce calls this Belloc's most underrated work. I think it would be interesting to read this work in conjunction with C. S. Lewis's Pilgrims Regress which also takes a satirical look at modern philosophical beliefs.

Speaking of books, I looked up Europe and the Faith (mentioned in part II of this series) on Amazon.co.uk today and was astonished to find a hardback version on sale for no less than £77. It must be a high quality volume indeed. Fortunately, a cheaper paperback version was also on sale.

Before concluding, I should add that the 20s saw a series of public debates take place between Belloc and G. K. Chesterton and G. B. Shaw and H. G. Wells. Despite their very different views (Shaw and Wells were as passionately atheistical as the Chesterbelloc was religious) the four were friends. For the most part, that is, for Belloc and Wells had a great falling out over Wells's Outline of History which was 'tacitly anti-Christian'. No resolution was reached, however, and Wells continued to be a committed socialist. In fact, in the mid 30s, he visited the Soviet Union where he congratulated Stalin on the good work he was doing for his country. As Pearce reports, it was not Belloc but World War II that did for Wells's faith in progressivism. Nevertheless, we need to follow Belloc's example in speaking the truth for all that we are able, for despite the sorrows of his life, he kept his faith and kept it strong.

From the heart

The Scripture reading from today's morning prayer-

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction, or distress, or persecution, or hunge, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? Yet in all this we are conquerors, through Him who has granted us His love.

(Romans 8: 35 - 37)

Amen. Happy St. Valentine's Day to all.

St Valentine baptises St Lucilla (Jacopo Bassano)

Old Thunder - J Pearce (II)

My reading of Old Thunder the biography of Hilaire Belloc by Joseph Pearce continues.

In 1906 Belloc became the Liberal Member of Parliament for Salford South. When the Salford Conservative Party found out that he was to stand as the Liberal candidate, it began what may fairly be described as a hate campaign against him: "Don't vote for a Frenchman and a Catholic" the slogans ran. Belloc might have tried to sidestep the issue but did not. Like the bull he was, he attacked the Salford Conservatives head on, though in the best possible manner. At a public meeting, he stood up and said, "Gentlemen, I am a Catholic. As far as possible, I go to Mass every day. This (taking his beads out of his pocket) is a rosary. As far as possible, I kneel down and tell these beads every day. If you reject me on account of my religion, I shall thank God that He has spared me the indignity of being your representative." Pearce reports that an astonished silence followed, before being broken by a 'thunderclap of applause'.

Belloc was a most unliberal Liberal. In his maiden speech in the Commons, he attacked the Liberal Government and continued to do so whenever he saw fit. For example, Belloc believed that there should be an open audit of party funds and caused much annoyance in his party by insisting upon it. A hundred years later, we are still concerned with party funding. A hundred years later, our political parties remain not quite as open as they could be about where their money comes from.

I don't know why Belloc decided to enter Parliament. He was very unsuited for it. He simply wasn't a party man. In time, he came to hate the party system and wrote a book explaining why he thought it was wrong.

As mentioned previously, Elodie Belloc, Hilaire's beloved wife, died in 1914. The cause of her death is not certain but appears to have been cancer. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any photographs of her on the internet. This leads me to mention the one great disappointment with this book - the lack of any photographs in it. I can't believe that they don't exist. Old Thunder was published by HarperCollins. Surely they have the money to pay for permission to use them.

1914 also saw the start of the Great War. Belloc tried several times to join up but his application was declined each time. Thwarted in his primary aim, Belloc began writing reports on the war for a journal founded with the sole reason of covering it - Land and Water. At first, his reports were well received for their military acumen. But as the war dragged on and soldiers came to see more and more clearly the futility of it, Belloc lost considerable support for his perennial optimism.

Ironically, in August 1918, Belloc - whose optimism had now broken - predicted that the war would continue into 1919. Thankfully, it came to an end. But not without cost to Belloc. In mid 1918, having joined the RAF, Belloc's son Louis went missing in action. His body was never found. Weeks after Armistice Day, Cecil Chesterton, G. K.'s brother, died of trench fever. Both Belloc and G.K.C. suffered grievously for their loss. Requiescant in pace.

There are plenty of things I didn't know about Hilaire Belloc that this book has enlightened me upon. One is his passionate and even vulnerable character. Another is the fact that among his followers were the famous war poets Siegfried Sassoon and Rupert Brooke.

In 1920 Belloc wrote Pearce calls 'his hugely influential, and highly controversial' book Europe and the Faith. This is how it ends,

... our European structure, built upon the noble foundations of classical antiquity, was formed through, exists by, is consonant to, and will stand in the mould of, the Catholic Church.
Europe will return to the Faith, or she will perish.
The Faith is Europe and Europe is the Faith.

On the face of it, this assertion appears to have been proved wrong with time. But I wonder. The European Union is not Europe. It is a clique of Federalist politicians in Brussels who are making the best use of their powers to tie up the countries one to another. But the EU will not survive. If there was another Depression, I think it would fall. The rich countries will either not stand, or be able, to aid the poor. And with the accession of eastern European countries to the EU there will be plenty of those. The European Union has no identity except that of Brussels beaurocrats. As it has no identity it has no roots. This means that it is like an empire. And one day or other, they fall. They always do. If you disbelieve that the EU has no roots, compare it to the USA. Americans are proud of being Texans, Californians or New Yorkans. But my, how proud they are of being Americans, too! This does not exist in Europe. Europeans are very happy to benefit from the advantages of being members of the EU but that is all.

As I write, I have reached the early 20s. Belloc has bidden farewell to another friend, the poet, Wilfred Scawen Blunt. In the last days of his life, and with Belloc's aid, Blunt was reconciled with the Church. Belloc has bidden him farewell, envious that his friend has now passed out of this vale of tears.

Oh look, Dawkins is off again.

Schadenfreude is not normally an emotion to be encouraged, unless, of course, it involves Richard Dawkins, the well known atheist and crashing bore. In the letters section of today's Times newspaper, he takes theologian - and fellow academic - Alister McGrath to task for writing two books using Dawkins' name in the title (Dawkins’ God: Genes, Memes and the Meaning of Life and The Dawkins Delusion). Dawkins writes,

Sir, Alister McGrath has now published two books with my name in the title. If I seem "grumpy", could it be because a professor of theology is building a career riding on my back?

I ask you! In case you don't know, though you probably do, so I shall say it for my enjoyment, this is the man who only ever appears in print or on television to have a go at religion! Dawkins has the cheek to say that he is tempted 'to quote Yeats ("Was there ever a dog that praised his fleas?")'. Indeed. Christians have been under this temptation ever since the good Professor of the Public Understanding of Science (yes, that is his job) spouted forth about the evil R. thing. Notwithstanding the fact that I like nothing better than to laugh at Dawkins' impotent rants, I do feel he ought to look to himself before criticising others. Beams and motes and all that. But maybe I am being a bit too rational for him.

Old Thunder - J Pearce (I)

As already mentioned, I have started reading Joseph Pearce's biography of Hilaire Belloc. It is titled "Old Thunder" in acknowledgement of Belloc's reputation as a Catholic firebrand.

Belloc (1870-1953) is a forgotten man of English letters. I first got to know about him a few years ago through Pearce's excellent biography of G. K. Chesterton "Wisdom & Innocence". Go to Amazon or your local bookshop and buy that book. You won't regret it. If I was rich, as well as buying Thornton's bookshop, I would say buy it and if you aren't satisfied, I will give you your money back. Unfortunately for you and me, I'm not rich, so I won't say that. What I will say, however, is that the joy of "Wisdom & Innocence" is two-fold: firstly in the excellence of Pearce's writing and secondly in the joy and excellence of Chesterton's writing that the book will lead you towards.

To return to the point, Belloc is a forgotten man of English letters. In his own lifetime, however, he was somewhat more popular and controversial. He was a FULL ON Catholic in capital letters and bold writing. Not only did he not sit on the fence he beat it down and invaded the enemy territory. But perhaps I will speak more about that when I get to that section of the book. At the moment, I will stay with him in his early years as that is as far as I have got with the book.

As mentioned above, Belloc was born in 1870. He was an extremely bright youngster, one seemingly destined to succeed at everything he did. Yet, after leaving school and failing to attract the love of a girl named Minna Hope, he ran off to France to attend a very strict college there. But the regimented life was not for him and in a few months he returned to London. There (or here), he failed to settle down and eventually accepted a suggestion of his mother's that he go to university. Belloc went up to Oxford and enrolled at Balliol college. He was a brilliant student and became the President of the Oxford Union. His life took two decisive turns when first he was was turned down by All Souls College after applying to become a Fellow. Belloc never quite forgave the dons for that slight. The second turn was when he met his future wife, Elodie Hogan.

Elodie is a wonderful name. I must use it in a story sometime. It is very French. Elodie Hogan, however, was American. And neither her mother nor Belloc's wanted their children to marry. But love will out and the two did eventually come together. Belloc loved his wife more than life itself. I have read elsewhere that when she died in 1914, he locked her bedroom (they slept in separate rooms) and would not permit anyone to enter it for the rest of his life. He dressed in black always and wrote his letters on black edged paper. I like the gesture about the locking of the bedroom. What do you think? I think it is very romantic. It reminds me of the Birmingham Oratory which still preserves Cardinal Newman's room, just as it was on the day he died. Fortunately, they do allow people to enter it.

I must return to the point one more time. I have got as far as Belloc's meeting with Chesterton. That means that I have passed through northern Europe and Italy with Belloc on the journey that formed the basis of one of his most popular books "The Path to Rome". This is the only book of his that I have yet read. I think if I read no other it will have been enough.

More as I progress through the book.

The Inquisitive Cow on Roman Triumphs, Photography and a failed petition

dúnadan: Hallo from a windy and noisy wood somewhere in central Dorset! I am in Farmer Bill's Wood surrounded by lots of celebrating animals! Tecumseh Squirrel has come home from Switzerland where a few weeks ago he won the annual Theatre of War video game competition, beating off stiff opposition from the Graues Eichhörnchen from Bavaria. Actually, he did not so much beat them off as beat them up. Gerrie, this is an amazing scene. There are rabbits partying, foxes drinking, insect guards of honour and fly-pasts by birds of all kinds.
inq. cow: I have never seen anything like it. The little red baron has certainly captured the hearts of the woodlanders!
dúnadan: His triumphal procession is due to pass us in a few moments. What can we expect to see?
inq. cow: As we know, Tecumseh is obsessed by Roman military history so the triumph will echo those that occurred during the age of the Republic. As it happens, Triumphs continued into the Imperial age - the last was conducted in A.D. 534 by Falvius Belisarius in Constantinople - but were reserved to members of the Imperial family. As for those that took place in the Republic, well, captured chieftains of the defeated opponents would lead the procession.
dúnadan: Tecumseh can't have any of those.
inq. cow: No, indeed, as his victory was a virtual one. So, friends and relations are taking the place of captives today. I understand that Little Boots was not altogether happy about this. However, he agreed to do it after Tecumseh's new friend the Honeybadger agreed to join the procession. I have a feeling that the Honeybadger will be a bad influence on him.
dúnadan: For those who don't know, honeybadgers are one of the most fearsome species to be found in Africa. They are quite fearless and very aggressive. They'll pick a fight with anything. What will happen if he decides to go on the rampage today?!

honeybadger: "Get that camera out of my face!"

inq. cow: Augustine Squirrel tells me that he will be carrying a pot of honey to placate the beast! If that doesn't work, Tecumseh and his legion of red squirrels will have some work to do. I have seen Hannibal Rabbit about so maybe they can call on his help!
dúnadan: Hmm! My enemy's enemy is my friend... let's hope it doesn't come to that!
inq. cow: Definitely! Now, after the chieftains - or friends and relations - will come the wagons carrying the spoils of war. As I mentioned, Tecumseh's victory was virtual, so he has no spoils as such to give away. Instead, he has his prize: food and lots of. Nuts for him, nuts for his family and nuts for his friends. But also Swiss grass for us cows! Meat for eagles, owls and foxes and all kinds of titbits for everyone else.
dúnadan: That is a nice gesture by the organisers of the competition.
inq. cow: Especially since they don't really have to try and win over the Animal Kingdom to the idea of a competition based on a war. Animals are quite happy to fight when need be.
dúnadan: Pacifism is not strong in these parts.
inq. cow:You'll only find it among animals who don't have to kill to survive. Like cows and horses, for example.
dúnadan: Speaking of the latter, there is Horace on the other side of the procession trail. I do believe he is taking a photograph!
inq. cow: No doubt to use in his studio. Photography is a fascinating subject. Mrs. Farmer Bill loves taking photos around the farm for her family album.
dúnadan: I wonder when photography began. Do you know?
inq. cow: Ah, that was the first question that came to my mind when Mrs. Farmer Bill bought her camera. She informed me that the first ever photograph was taken in 1826 by a Frenchman named Joseph Nicéphore Niépce and is of a building. The exposure time for the picture was very, very long - between eight and twenty hours!

Niépce View from the Window at Le Gras

dúnadan: I can hear shouting from over the ridge to our right, the procession could be near. Who will we see after the spoils of war pass by?
inq. cow: Well, if we were in ancient Rome, we would see slaves come. This time, however, I believe their place has been taken by out-of-work animals who have been paid by Tecumseh to play the part of slaves. I can't say that I approve of that.
dúnadan: Why not?
inq. cow: It seems to me that we animals are far too wedded to our social hierarchy as it is. This procession just reinforces the belief that some animals are better than others.
dúnadan: But not all animals are equal - the food chain shows that.
inq. cow: I know, I know... Farmer Bill was reading his scriptures this week. I rather like the one about animals living together in peace.
dúnadan: Ah, yes:

The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling [a] together;
and a little child will lead them.

The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

The infant will play near the hole of the cobra,
and the young child put his hand into the viper's nest.

They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.

dúnadan: That is from Isaiah 11: 1 -9
inq. cow: Moo! Perhaps in my concern I am becoming less of an animal and more of a human!
dúnadan: It makes a change from a human acting like an animal. Let's go back to the Triumph.
inq. cow: Yes, following the spoils of war will come Tecumseh's army - and there they are!
dúnadan: Indeed, even as we speak, here comes the procession! I can see Augustine Squirrel dressed up like a barbarian... there is Little Boots and Honeybadger - he doesn't look so violent! Yes, there are lots of red and grey squirrels there. Bertie and Percy Pig too. And Percival Pigeon and Herbert Goose - who, amazingly, made it home in time for the procession. But what are they doing? Oh dear, they have taken a sudden left turning off the path and into the wood. Their sense of direction really is bad!
inq. cow: Not to worry, Jenny Wren is guiding the procession and has brought them back into line!
dúnadan: Here come the nut carts and slaves. My goodness, there is a lot of food there. As well as nuts and meats I can see grain and barley. There are even barrels!
inq. cow: Ale for tonight's party!
dúnadan: And look, cheering more loudly than the animals lining the path in front of us and clashing their shields is Tecumseh's army! And right behind them is the squirrel himself. His chariot is being pulled by two white ponies. Gerrie, despite being a red squirrel, it looks like Tecumseh has painted his face red!
inq. cow: Indeed, he has. This is another ancient Roman tradition. The red paint signifies Jupiter to whom the victorious general would offer golden laurels at the end of his triumph. Tecumseh's procession will end down by the river where the big party will be held.
dúnadan: Here they come... I am going to stand up to see if I can catch our general's attention. Tecumseh! Congratulations on your Triumph!
tecumseh: No one is going to make me dig holes in the ground again!!
dúnadan: Oh dear, he still remembers his archeology experience!
inq. cow: He should be more modest. You see Learned Owl flying behind him with the golden laurels in his claws. He will be speaking also: "Memento Mori!" Remember, you are mortal! Tecumseh needs to learn humility!
dúnadan: Yes, you're right. Well, there they go. Before we finish off, Gerrie, there was bad news from 10 Downing Street this week. Unfortunately, your petition to bring knowledge to Dorsetians was rejected! Here is the e-mail that Number 10 sent you:

Hi,

I'm sorry to inform you that your petition has been rejected.

Your petition was classed as being in the following categories:

* Intended to be humorous, or has no point about government
policy

* Contains links to other websites

If you wish to edit and resubmit your petition, please follow
the following link:
http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/inquisitivecow/CQ2FTpAYgAsfAtKJgOAuIyx

You have four weeks in which to do this, after which your
petition will appear in the list of rejected petitions.

Your petition reads:

We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to: 'encourage
Dorsetians to be more inquisitive about the world. Like me.'

Lots of people and animals are happy to go about their daily
business without giving any thought to matters they either half
know or simply don't know the truth about. But this should not
be. Everyone should have a thirst for knowledge and a desire to
find things out! Inquisitiveness should not be the exception
but second nature. (you can learn more at
http://callyskitchenindex.blogspot.com/2006/07/inquisitive-cow.html)

-- the ePetitions team

inq. cow: I confess to being most disappointed! Perhaps I should not have placed a link to your transcripts of our interviews, but I was only trying to be helpful, yet how can they have thought that I was being humorous! I was most put out. I still am.
dúnadan: Oh dear, well, politicians have a hard job and don't always get it right.
inq. cow: How many more animals and humans will live in ignorance until the Government sees that it is good to be inquisitive?!
dúnadan: I think people who want to learn will find their own way. In the meantime, Gerrie, let's make our way down to the river. I don't want to have to queue all afternoon for a tankard of beer!
inq. cow: Don't stop being inquisitive everyone! Even if the Government refuses to support you!

index of interviews with the inquisitive cow

Learn more about honeybadgers

On the Kings Road

Today I visited an area of London that is popular with many but hitherto never set foot upon by me - the Kings Road in Kensington & Chelsea. The purpose of my trip was two fold. Firstly, it was to visit Thornton's Bookshop. Readers of the Roman Miscellany will know that it is soon to close down (the lady-in-charge told me that it would probably shut in June) and that there is a half price sale going on. I have just started reading Joseph Pearce's biography of Hilaire Belloc and, upon hearing from Fr. Nicholas that Thornton's has a a few of his books, I thought it would be a good idea to head on down to see what they had.

Alighting at Fulham Broadway underground station, I found myself in the presence of a tribe of blue shirts. As I was soon to find out, Chelsea Football Club has its ground on the Fulham Road and the fans were on their way to today's home game versus Middlesborough (for the record, Chelsea won 3 - 0 but Manchester United beat Charlton Athletic 2 - 0 so remain six points ahead of CFC in the league. Take that, Blues!). I hurried down the road - not to get away from the fans, but because I had little over 30 minutes to find, browse and return to the station to travel to Sloane Square for reasons I shall come to in a minute.

Just when I began to think that I had gone the wrong way down the road, I saw a church and a cemetary. In his post on Thornton's, Fr. Nicholas mentioned both of these and so I knew I was on the right track. In fact, I was there.

The bookshop is old and musty. The walls are crammed with books old and new and if I was rich I would buy it from Mr. Thornton (who is retiring) and keep the place going. Not all the Borders and Waterstones in the world can replace such a place as this. Downstairs, I found a shelf full of books by Hilaire Belloc. These are the ones I bought: The Four Men, The Old Road, A Conversation with a Cat and A Treasury of Cat Stories by Belloc and others.

Joseph Pearce wrote a book called The Four Ys Men which I have never read but always been intrigued by the title. Since I discovered that it was based on (or inspired by) The Four Men I have wanted to read both, so it was good to find that novel here. The Old Road is actually about several old roads in Surrey. The book has two names at the front: 'Vincent Wells 1915' and 'C Wigley 1918'. I wonder how it came to pass between two owners in just three years. Sadly, one cannot but think of the consequences of the Great War having something to do with it. Wells and Wigley will be dead now anyway. Requiescat in pace. The final two books, both bearing the word 'cat' in the title betray my sympathies in regards animals.

Before heading back to Fulham Broadway I stopped off at Borders to buy a suitable and belated birthday present for my Arathorn. Happy Birthday to you, if you read this!

Back at Sloane Square I met J. and Our Man in the Army in fulfilment of my second reason for being in K&C today: to see an exhibition of photographs by the American journalist, Hunter S. Thompson. If you are a fan of Thompson's ('Gonzo') journalism, this exhibition will no doubt be extremely pleasing to you. If you are slightly more sceptical as to his literary and photographic merits (judging by the exhibition he spent most of his time photographing Hell's Angels) then this would not be a place to visit. As for myself, I was and remain firmly in the second camp.

Leaving the exhibition to the Bright Young Things eager to learn from the drug fuelled master, we took ourselves to a pub to watch the rugby. England beat Italy and Scotland beat Wales. England made slightly heavy weather of their victory, though Italy never really looked like causing an upset while Scotland were dominant over a surprisingly poor Welsh side - a great shame for all the Wales fans in the pub.

All-in-all, then, a good day.

All Is True

Thank you to David Palmer and Antonia for this bit of fun!

Catholic England

Tonight I attended a talk given by our curate and fellow blogger, Fr. Nicholas, in the church hall on the Catholic History of England. The talk was an overview as it lasted just 45 minutes, but I can say it was 45 minutes well spent. Fr Nicholas talked about how Christianity arrived in England long before St. Augustine of Canterbury. In fact, according to legend, it came with Joseph of Arimathea, with Jesus accompanying him.

History suggests that the arrival of the first Christians was a couple of centuries later - Tertulian (in the second century) makes a remark about Britons being under the authority of Christ. From Tertulian we met St Alban, the first British martyr, St Patrick and one or two other saints whose names have again escaped me. Then there was Bede and Boniface and various -burgas during the so called 'Dark Ages'. Regrettably, time constraints mean that Fr. Nicholas had to shoot through the Middle Ages before coming to the time of the Reformation. I expect you know about that, so I will not dwell on that truly dark time here. Incidentally, if you don't know much or anything about the Reformation (or anything/one else to which I am referring here) then let me know in the comments section and I will come back to it. I have no idea if my readers are all Catholics or not.

From the dread King Henry VIII and his minions, we moved on to the last Catholic king, James II. The clouds started to break with the Catholic Emancipation Act in 1829, the arrival of Catholic immigrants into England and the Oxford Movement. Fr. Nicholas had been using a most attractive powerpoint presentation device to illustrate (and give sound to) his talk but unfortunately he used a photograph of a much older Cardinal Newman where, if I may be blunt, he looks like one of the Ringwraiths where they are exposed to Frodo on Weathertop. This is one of my favourite pictures of our dear cardinal:

One day he will be declared a Saint. One day let's pray that he is named a doctor of the Church. After Newman came mention of some of the great Catholic authors of the twentieth century - G. K. Chesterton, Hilaire Belloc (a biography of whom I have just started to read) and J. R. R. Tolkien. The talk ended with us. Alot of the things that Fr. Nicholas talked about I knew already. Every so often, however, he mentioned some little fact that I had not been aware of. For example, Thomas More had a daughter who lived in our parish. Her name was Cicely. Here she is:

There were one or two saints that I had never heard of. The meaning of the name Litchfield is 'place of the dead'. And so on. One thing I have not mentioned so far is that the talk tonight took place as the first meeting of the 'Father William Lockhart Circle'. He was our first parish priest and a Rosminian father. Fr Lockhart was a very talented writer, authoring several books on the faith.

After the talk, Fr. Nicholas and I retired to his rooms to sample his collection of liquors. There was one called montenegro, one called 'the witch' in Italian, and another... and another. Fr. Nicholas, if you are reading this, I knew I would forget them! Anyway, the liquors were of varying quality, though all were of good standard or above so I enjoyed them immensely.

Towards the end of the night, the percentages of each were read out. The strongest was 40% proof. It was also the one that I had had several shots of! Apart from conversation, I took a look at a couple of Fr. Lockhart's books and we watched an episode of Simon Schama's History of Britain, which dealt with the Reformation. This was excellent viewing. Schama was very sympathetic to the Catholic cause. There was also good use of computer graphics when a white washed church was made up to look like how it would have done in the Middle Ages. We also drew some uncomfortable parallels between the Reformation and Vatican II: (i) Increased use of the vernacular (ii) the altar turned into a table (iii) the distance between priest and people decreased. I mention Vatican II but really the parallels are between the Reformation and the so called spirit of that council as defined by liberals. The Deformers would be proud of them.

All-in-all it was an excellent evening and so, in the words of C. S. Lewis, I owe Fr. Nicholas much good language for it. If you would like to read his account of the evening, then head over to the Roman Miscellany.

From File Marked: You Couldn't Make It Up (2)

I thought that I had already spoken the last word on the Iniquitous Act, but conservative blogger Dizzy Thinks has just published this post,

Equality from discrimination for all... almost

The following was highlighted in this morning's Independent by Dominic Lawson which I wanted to check before I posted. This is the full text of the Equality Act 2006. Section (52) titled "Public Authorities" says the following

(1) It is unlawful for a public authority exercising a function to do any act which constitutes discrimination.

It then says,

(3) The prohibition in subsection (1) shall not apply to-

* (a) the House of Commons,
* (b) the House of Lords,
* (c) the authorities of either House of Parliament,
* (d) the Security Service,
* (e) the Secret Intelligence Service,
* (f) the Government Communications Headquarters, or
* (g) a part of the armed forces of the Crown which is, in accordance with a requirement of the Secretary of State, assisting the Government Communications Headquarters.

So when all those politicians were banging on about how the Catholic Church could not possibly be exempt because equality from discrimination was universal and applied to everyone, what they actually meant was everyone except them.

No further comment required.

A White Start to the Day

Hurray! Snow has returned to London. Walking to work today will feel like taking a trip through Narnia. Here is the view from my window: And here is Berry. He's looking, but he aint going out:

Dr. Who and Blake's Seven

Tim Roll-Pickering has reviewed the latest episodes of Dr. Who to be issued on DVD. They include the last Tom Baker episode, "Logopolis". As I mentioned in his combox, I remember watching this episode when it was first on TV. It was awful. Tom Baker was a great doctor and to see him fall (quite literally) was heartbreaking. What made the episode really memorable, though, was the mysterious character of the Watcher. He never did anything except stand portentously in the background. I speak from memory so I doubt that I am remembering everything about the Watcher but he was very and unnervingly strange.

Tim's post got me to thinking about my two other "favourite" sci-fi moments. Inverted commas are used here as they weren't favourite moments in the sense of me having enjoyed them. Quite the reverse, in fact; it would be more accurate to describe them as my choices for most memorable moments in any sci-fi drama. Both scenes come from Blake's 7.

Younger readers and those from outside the U.K. may not have heard of Blake's 7. Set in the future, it was the story of seven outlaws' fight against a galactic tyranny, the Federation. The leader of the group was Roj Blake, an idealist. He was the only one. His second in command, Avon, was at best selfish and at worst (which is what he became in later episodes) paranoid. Among the other crew members was a coward (Villa), a smuggler (Jenna Stannis, if memory serves) and even a grumpy computer (Orac, voiced by Peter Tuddenham). Blake's 7 was a thoroughly dysfunctional group. And no wonder - the universe in which they lived was a pitiless one, with none of the hope or optimism of any American sci-fi series that you care to mention.

Ahh... such sweet memories! Cally in action pose.

At the tender age of nine or ten I fell in love with Cally and couldn't believe it when she was killed off. The episode in question was "Terminal". The Liberator - the group's spaceship - crashed with Cally still on board. In a rare altruistic moment, Avon tried to find her, only to 'hear' Cally's telepathic voice fade into the distance. Now, granting that the indications are that she died on the ship, I would point out that we never did see a body so as far as I am concerned, there is scope to believe that Cally survived. I was very disappointed when in the mid 80s a sequel to Blake's 7 was in published without a resurrected Cally. You can be sure that if I had written that book she definitely would have returned! In case you are wondering, B7's Cally is indeed the origin of the name of this blog.

Jan Chappell (Cally) now. In the words of Simonedes, "And she is fair!"

My last memorable moment is the very last scene of the last episode of Blake's 7. Blake had gone missing after the second series and the group had spent two more looking for him. They found him on the planet of Gauda Prime. By now, Avon's aforementioned paranoia had got out of control. Convinced that Blake was a traitor, he killed him. As if that wasn't bad enough, Federation soldiers then broke into Blake's compound and massacred the group. Except, that is, Avon. This led to the final confrontation between him and his arch-enemy Servalan. I don't remember if she offered him the chance to surrender, but what happened next was that he raised his gun, the screen went black and we heard lots of laser fire. Great stuff. My other favourite sci-fi drama is Star Wars but even the revelation that Darth Vader is Luke's father doesn't compete with the scenes mentioned above.

No happy ending. Avon prepares to meet his doom

NB: The above photos come from the official Blake's Seven website here: well worth a look.

Nick Easter picked by England

Super news greets readers to the Rugby Union page at the BBC website today. Nick Easter of Harlequins has been picked by Brian Ashton to play for the England First XV against Italy this Saturday. I think he is the first Quin to play for England since Will Greenwood's last cap in 2004. Easter's call-up is quite a turnaround for him. Last week, he was up before the beak for being sent off in our last game against Bath. In the spirit of mischeivousness, let me quote part of the RFU disciplinary hearing into Easter's dismissal. Sensitive readers to this blog may not wish to continue:

In the 19th minute of the first half, after the Referee had warned [Harlequins] about the consequences of professional fouls, the Player [i.e. Easter] committed a technical offence (collapsing a maul) and was awarded a Yellow Card. In the 34th minute of the second half the Referee disallowed a Harlequins try after a player had grounded the ball twice. He awarded a penalty to Bath. The Harlequins players were frustrated and a number of them expressed their frustration graphically by using what the Referee described as “industrial language”. The Referee stated that the Player approached him from only a metre or so away, made eye contact and said: “You are f***ing sh*t.” He immediately advanced the penalty by 10m and as the Player walked past him he said: “No wonder you have only refereed five games.” The Referee immediately awarded a Yellow Card to the player which triggered a Red Card because he had received the earlier Yellow Card for a technical offence.

Ahem. I am absolutely sure that Easter will behave himself on Saturday and be a credit to himself, his club and country.

Jonny in Hampstead

Go Jonny! Yesterday, myself and E., who from now on shall be known as Our Man in the Army (he is a member of the Honourable Artillery Company) watched England play Scotland in the opening game of the 2007 Six Nations tournament. This fixture is 128 years old but yesterday it was a certain injury prone 27 year old who stole the show. Jonny Wilkinson was back in an England shirt for the first time since that glorious night in 2003 when England beat Australia to win the Rugby World Cup. And, despite having only played three games in the current rugby season, he played like he had never been away. Twenty seven points comprised of five penalties, two conversions, a drop goal and even a try gave him a record breaking tally of points (beating the Young Fart Rob Andrew by three points) that thoroughly justified Brian Ashton's inclusion of him in the squad.

The Calcutta Cup match was a day of comebacks, for also returning to the team (this time after retiring from international rugby after the 2003 RWC) was the fleet footed Jason Robinson. He had a quieter day, although remained alert to score a try of his own.

OMA and I watched the game at the Ye Olde White Bear pub in Hampstead. I had never been there before, but after experiencing its old fashioned and cosy atmosphere, would definately do so again. The fact that we were served by a very cheery American bargirl was a very nice bonus. Hampstead is a very leafy (and well off) area that feels like it is a Hampshire village that has been lifted up and transported to London. This may be due - at least in part - to the fact that it is situated at the top of a hill. After the game, we left the Bear and wandered down the road then up the hill via a music shop to another pub named the Holly Bush. Like the Bear, the Bush is also very cosy, especially so as it is made up of a series of little rooms rather than the usual open floor style. As we made our way up the curling stairs towards the Holly Bush, we glimpsed over the housetops a wonderful view of the city - including a well lit up London Eye. I took a photograph but unfortunately it did not come out very well.

One picture which I did take and am pleased to be able to upload here is of a sculpture of President F D Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. F, who joined us for the latter part of the 6N game, and I took photos and we all looked for a plaque to explain the sculpture's presence, but could not find one. Not to worry, it was a nice surprise to find this reminder of two very great men to whom the west owes so much.

Bloggers in print this week

Reading the Catholic Herald today, I noticed references to two British Catholic bloggers. One of the references is direct, the other indirect. First up is Joee Blogs. The master of a managerie of Catholic animals is quoted in a Herald report titled 'BBC Journalist struck by hostility against Catholics'. The journalist in question is Nick Robinson who, on his own blog, has expressed his surprise at the 'level of vilification being meted out to those with strongly held religious views. It is stated, as if fact, that Tony Blair is acting under orders from his Catholic wife, who's acting under orders from the archbishop, who's acting under orders, presumably, from the Pope."
The article continues with a quote from '[A] Catholic blogger known as "Joee Blogs" [who] has also complained about a "vast quantity of frankly upsetting anti-Catholic comments and several hateful e-mails"' Joee concludes, 'it is my view that it will become even more difficult now to be a Catholic with a Catholic conscience than it has been in the past.' I don't know about this. From the Reformation to 1829 it was illegal to be a Catholic. We are nowhere near that position. Between 1829 and 1979 Catholicism was at the margin of society. It was Cardinal Hume who made it respectable. It is only now that that honeymoon period appears to be over. Still, I take Joee's point. To the best of my knowledge, between 1829 - 1979 no laws were passed that had the capability to be so harmful to the Catholic conscience. Now, it has happened. How will we respond?

The second blogger mentioned in the Catholic Herald this week is Fr John Boyle, the South Ashford Priest. Actually, it is not he who is mentioned but his parish, St Simon Stock. In his personal and parish blog, Father Boyle mentions that it is now twenty years old. Congratulations to the parish and especially to Mr Peter Runciman, a parishioner who has received a papal award for his services to the parish school and the work of the parish.

The Inquisitive Cow on a petition to No.10, the Sedlec Ossuary and Sora Kopparberg

dúnadan: Hallo to our readers! It is a surprisingly balmy night here in Dorset. I am in the usual place: a field just north of Dorchester. And with me is my unusual guest the now internet savvy and politically active Gerrie Cow!
inq. cow: Moooo!
dúnadan: Gerrie, tell us what you have been up to!
inq. cow: Well, I have decided to launch a one-cow campaign to make Dorsetians more inquisitive. To that end - and with the help of your laptop while you and Farmer Bill enjoyed your glass of cider - I logged on to the Number 10 Downing Street website to create a new petition.
dúnadan: These petitions are a recent innovation of the Government. Readers who would like to read what other members of the public have petitioned it to do can visit the Number 10 website here. But lets read what you wrote, Gerrie. After you submitted your petition, here is the e-mail that Number 10 sent you:

Confirm your new petition to the Prime Minister - 'encourage Dorsetians to be more inquisitive about the world. Like me.'
Number 10 <> 02 February 2007 20:22
To: Gerrie Cow <>

Please click on the link below to confirm that you wish the Number 10 website to display the petition at the bottom of this email in your name

http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/inquisitivecow/CUMvIfEUYLlXD4C5SXAaTrc

Your petition reads: We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to encourage Dorsetians to be more inquisitive about the world. Like me.

Lots of people and animals are happy to go about their daily business without giving any thought to matters they either half know or simply don't know the truth about. But this should not be. Everyone should have a thirst for knowledge and a desire to find things out! Inquisitiveness should not be the exception but second nature. (you can learn more at:
http://callyskitchenindex.blogspot.com/2006/07/inquisitive-cow.html)

Thank you for submitting your petition. [ This email has been automatically sent by the Number 10 petitions system ]

dúnadan: Well! It will be interesting to see if your petition is accepted by Downing Street.
inq. cow: I don't see why it wouldn't be. After all, wasn't education a priority of the Labour party's when it came to power in 1997?
dúnadan: 'Education, education, education' that is what it said. But I don't think Downing Street gets many petitions from animals.
inq. cow: I am confident that this is not a government that would discriminate against us!
dúnadan: Hmm. We shall see. I shall moniter Downing Street petitions page over the next week and let you know whether it has accepted your petition or not.
inq. cow: Thank you. Win the animal vote, Mr Blair!
dúnadan: We shall gloss over the fact that you don't have a vote, Gerrie, and move on to our next subject! Which is the Sedlec Ossuary in Kutna Hora. This week, our globe trotting goose, Herbert, took another wrong turning on his way home from the Jebel Uweinat in the Libyan desert and ended up in the Czech Republic from where he sent you a very, well, interesting photograph. Here they are for our readers:

dúnadan: My goodness, what gothic nightmare did Herbert stumble into?
inq. cow: Ah, now, you are being unfair, dúnadan! This is no nightmare but the creative solution to a very difficult problem.
dúnadan: I can't wait to hear this!
inq. cow: What happened was this. The Ossuary that Herbert visited is underneath a church that in the thirteenth century had its graveyard sprinkled with earth from the Holy Land by a returning pilgrim monk named Henry. This immediately made it a very desirable place to be buried at. Unfortunately, the graveyard is not the largest in Christendom and by the sixteenth century, it had filled up. To make way for new bodies, the bones of those already interred there were removed into the Ossuary. And there they remained until the nineteenth century when the Duke of Schwartzenberg hired a monk named Frantisek Rindt to make something out of the bones. The bone shiled in Herbert's postcard is actually the Schwartzenberg family crest!
dúnadan: That is a quite an extraordinary tale!
inq. cow: According to Herbert, it is an extraordinary place: 'If you turn left you see a chandelier made out of bones and skulls [the photograph above on the right is a close up of it - d], if you turn right there is a cross made out of bones. There are two chambers FILLED with bones. It is very scary. I can't wait to get back into the air again!'
dúnadan: The poor thing. Let's move on, again. Amidst all the preparations for Tecumseh's Triumph - which will take place next weekend. It should have been this week, but he and arch-rival Hannibal Rabbit had a skirmish outside Grenoble - you have been researching shares.
inq. cow: That is correct. I am thinking of buying some for my children.
dúnadan: But you don't have any.
inq. cow: It is never too early to plan!
dúnadan: Gerrie, you don't even have a bullfriend!
inq. cow: Ah... that is true... but as I said---
dúnadan: Okay! So, it is never too early. What kind of shares have you bought?

A share in Stora Kopparberg from 1288

inq. cow: Actually, none as yet. Me being me, I got rather distracted learning all about them, rather than purchasing any. Did you know that one of the oldest limited companies in the world is a joint Finnish and Swedish paper manufacturer called Stora Enso Oyj? The present company was only formed in 1998 when Enso-Gutzeit Oy merged with Stora. Stora was originally called Stora Kopparberg. It was given a charter by King Magnus IV of Sweden in 1347. Still in existance, however, are shares dating to 1288. That is many lives of cows!
dúnadan: Indeed!
inq. cow: As you may have guessed, I owe this information to Capitalist Cow - Algernon, who is really a bull - with whom I have been corresponding lately.
dúnadan: Yes, poor Algie, who you cut out of your clotted cream business!
inq. cow: That's right, although only for a week or two over the summer!
dúnadan: Well, Gerrie, time has passed more quickly than I expected tonight, but pass it has and we must bring our conversation to an end. I hope you have a good week. I look forward to seeing you again on the occasion of Tecumseh's Triumph!
inq. cow: Don't forget to keep an eye on the 10 Downing Street website!
dúnadan: Yes, I will. By the way, why is your petition aimed only at Dorsetians?
inq. cow: Because I am a Dorset cow! Do you think people outside Dorset should be more inquisitive? Maybe I should write another petition!
dúnadan: Maybe one at a time would be best, Gerrie; come on, let's go to the top of the hill and watch the stars.

>the sound of the dúnadan and inquisitive cow chatting as they depart<

read more interviews with the inquisitive cow here

Very skimmed Literature

I loved this literary post from Julie D. the Happy Catholic:

The Collected Work of Jane Austen
By Jane Austen
Ultra-Condensed by Christina Carlson and Peter da Silva*

Female Lead
I secretly love Male Lead. He must never know.

Male Lead
I secretly love Female Lead. She must never know.

(They find out.)

THE END
* more condensed books here

Here is my own contribution to this enterprise:

The Bible
by various
Ultra-Condensed x2 by the dúnadan

God
Mankind, I love you, and I am going to show you how much.

Man
Crikey.

(Various examples of God loving Man. Jesus' Incarnation.
Peter shows the way. Apocalypse.)

Not The End

Apologies to all concerned

How did you get by without knowing this?!

I have been tagged by Matt from Absolutely No Spin to name "5 Random Things About Me". Oh dear, well, let's not even try to make this interesting - just truthful:

1. I saw Guns N Roses twice at Wembley Stadium (in 1989/90).
2. I have supported Manchester United since 1979 but only been to Old Trafford once. This will not surprise football fans in England.
3. In the late 80s, I read Spycatcher by Peter Wright while it was still banned in the U.K. and got Lt. Col. Oliver North's autograph.
4. I once gave a talk to the Catholic Society at university. After 90 minutes I had only got half way through it. The rest of the talk was abandoned in favour of the pub.
5. I received an acknowledgement by one of my university tutors for proof reading a chapter of his then latest book. The tutor in question was named Julian Wolfreys. The title of the book I'm afraid to say I have forgotten.

There we have it!

From File Marked: You Couldn't Make It Up

Further to Monday's post on this matter, this article from today's Times really must be the last word on the iniquitous Equality Act:

Gay tourist hotels fear equality law

Hoteliers chasing the pink tourist pound have joined criticism of a law outlawing discrimination against homosexuals.

The hotels, which cater for the thriving “exclusively gay” tourism market, say that they should be exempt from the Sexual Orientation Regulations as they will be forced to accept heterosexual guests.

Some say that a ban on “gay only” advertising could put them out of business.

There were also concerns that some heterosexual couples might be unhappy if they unwittingly booked into a gay hotel.

John Bellamy, who runs Hamilton Hall, in Bournemouth, described the new laws as “discrimination against gays”. He said: “We are a unique venue and we only admit gay and bisexual men. Under this law, we would go out of business. This so-called anti-discrimination law is actually discriminatory as it discriminates against gays.”

For the full, entertaining article click here