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According to a recent article in the London Review of Books, Pugin, the architect who designed the UK Houses of Parliament, had the forenames Augustus Welby Northmore.
Christ, what sort of sick bastard would do that to a child? I'll bet he was teased something rotten at school.
It must must have been one hell of a difficult childbirth.
Just Hey Man (Now You're Really Living) by Eels:
If you don't understand the next paragraph, don't let it worry you—neither do I. Seriously. In it, I try to make use of some arcane jargon which, to be honest, I don't really understand. But the worrying thing is that I think it is slowly starting to make sense to me. It won't make sense to you, though. Not unless you listen to the same podcasts as I do. So, if I were you, I'd skip the next paragraph altogether and pick up the story one paragraph later. It will make a lot more sense that way, and won't detract from the story.
Two of my Gestures brought some unexpected Attention home to roost this week. Suddenly, I understand what Steve Gillmor (vanity feed still working, Steve?) has been going on about all this time. I think.
On Saturday, I received a leaflet through the post advertising a writing course in North Wales. One of the tutors on the course is author Redmond O'Hanlon, whose book Trawler I had written about on Gruts. The person who sent me the leaflet had evidently trawled (no pun intended) the web for people with websites (i.e. writers) with an interest in Redmond O'Hanlon. They had then picked up my contact details from my Charles Darwin website and sent me the leaflet. I am not at all interested in the writing course, but I was impressed to have been singled out for special attention in this way, and didn't (as I normally would) resent being sent this unsolicited advertisement, as it was at least relevant to my interests.
Then, yesterday, I received a free book through the post: The Evolutionists: American Thinkers Confront Charles Darwin, 1860—1920 by J David Hoeveler. It had been sent by the publisher. The person who sent it had worked out that I am in the habit of reviewing books about Charles Darwin etc. and decided to send me a copy. Over the years, I have been sent about 10 Darwin-related books by publishers. In many cases they were books I would have bought anyway. In this particular case, I probably wouldn't, but it is now on my reading list and will receive a review at some point. The book was addressed to the Review Editor at The Friends of Charles Darwin. Nice touch, that. I quite fancy myself as a Review Editor.
The message of this story: why not get yourself a website and start writing about stuff that interests you? You might end up getting some Attention.
Times: Pope's robe cut up for 100,000 'holy relics'
Fragments of a cassock worn by Pope John Paul II are being offered for sale to the faithful, causing concern in the Vatican over the resurgence in the veneration of relics.
Devotees of John Paul can apply via e-mail, fax or post for fragments of a white cassock to augment their prayers. A cassock worn by John Paul has reportedly been cut into 100,000 pieces to satisfy demand.
The scheme is run by the Vicariate of Rome, which is promoting sainthood for John Paul…
The Vicariate said that it has been overwhelmed by requests for the relics, with priority now being given to those who were praying for the sick or were themselves seriously ill.
I well remember watching stage magician Uri Geller on telly in the 1970s using his so-called psychic powers to mend timepieces over the airwaves. He would tell everyone watching to dig out any broken watches or clocks they had stored away, give them a wind (no battery-powered watches in those days), and concentrate with him as he tried to beam out his psychic energy, or something like that. Then he would practically beg you to phone in if your timepiece (which you had just wound and shaken around in your hands) miraculously started working again.
Even as a kid, I realised that, with several million people watching the programme (only three TV channels and no internet in those days), some timepieces were absolutely bound to start working again—if only for a short time.
The Vicariate of Rome is using exactly the same trickery to obtain vital evidence of a John Paul II miracle: distribute 100,000 holy relics to the desperate and credulous, encourage them to pray to the old sod, and let the Vicariate know if anyone miraculously gets better.
With 100,000 trials and only one success needed to demonstrate a miracle, I'd say the sainthood was in the bag.
Carolyn yesterday:
Look at the size of your sausage, Richard! It's absolutely enormous!
No, I know what you're thinking, but Carolyn was, in fact, talking about a real sausage which I had ordered as part of a pub lunch in Chester.
Had we not already partaken of our frankly magnificent lunches, I would surely have dragged Carolyn into a pub we spotted a short while later. It was named The Albion and the chalk sign outside read:
THE ENGLISH PUB AT ITS VERY BEST
NOMINATED IN TOP SIX BEST CITY PUBS IN BRITAIN - NATIONAL PUB GUIDE
RECOMMENDED IN ALL MAJOR PUB GUIDES AND PUBLICATIONS OVER MANY YEARS -
A GROWN UPS PUB FOR GROWN UP PEOPLE - NO CHILDREN - FAMILY HOSTILE
Sounded like my kind of pub. I wonder where they stand on the cultural vandalism that is the smoking ban.
See also: More photos from our day out in Chester here, including one of Carolyn in her kinky boots. That one should up the ratings.
At 09:51 GMT this morning, the Earth's elliptical trajectory around the Sun reached a point where, from an earth-bound observer's point of view, the Sun would have appeared directly overhead at the equator.
You can forget about when British Summertime officially ends. As far as I'm concerned, the autumnal equinox defines it. Summer is over.
Crap, wasn't it?
I'm speechless… What were his final words?… I wonder if there will be a minute's noise at the funeral… Well at least he won't have to pretend to be in a box this time… etc.
Sunday Times: Killer strength Viagra on sale in chemists
Careful you don't take any: you could end up a stiff.
(It's a gift, I tell you.)
Talking (Heads) of David Byrne (as I think you'll find I was), compare and contrast:
One of the finest pop videos ever made:
Perhaps the finest tribute to a pop video ever made:
Postscript: In the comments, Nite Owl nominates Tenacious D's 'Tribute' as the finest tribute video ever. The strigine one has a point.
For reasons I won't bore you with (yet), Jen and I have been researching parquet flooring this week.
Whenever we searched Google for parquet flooring suppliers in various towns in West Yorkshire, the same company kept appearing as the number one hit. Knowing a little bit about how websites are put together, I worked out that this company had written a piece of code that gives the impression that it is a specialist supplier in just about any town you care to mention…
Including Lesser Willyhampton in Knobshire.
Stephen Fry (yes, that Stephen Fry) has a brand new weblog. I must be old-fashioned: I just can't bring myself to use the word blog. David Byrne (yes, that David Byrne) must be even fuddy-duddier: he calls his a journal.
This internet thing will never catch on.