The Spur in the Dish Warns the Border Chief that the Larder Needs Replenishing

 Well, another month nearly finished and not many posts, but let's see if we can squeeze one more in before September starts. In any event I continue to attract thousands of views a day without bothering to write anything. The blog's stats page tells me that the most popular article yesterday was that from a few weeks ago complaining about the constant trawling by AI. Coincidence? I think not; these LLMs seem to be as vain as one of the blog's previous, and much missed, followers, who had a strict policy of only reading posts in which she featured.

And speaking of coincidences... I have been in Northumberland for a few days and finding myself in Alnwick I obviously popped in to Barter Books. I didn't stay long as it was hot and crowded, but I did buy a book almost at random just to show willing: "The Adventures of Speedfall" by John Fuller, which I didn't enjoy and don't recommend. I would describe it as a mediocre mashup between P.G. Wodehouse's Mr Mulliner and Tom Sharpe's Porterhouse Blue and, having put it to one side, I found the latter of those on my Kobo (*) and started to re-read it. I quickly came on a passage in which one character, as part of a diatribe against the feckless working class, mentions a painting that he once saw in which a wife served her husband a spur on a plate rather than the dinner which he was expecting. That struck a chord with me because I had myself seen that very painting - it's by William Bell Scott - the day before at Wallington. Also seen there, and of somewhat more relevance to the blog, were these:

As well as the Napoleonic figures there were what looked to be some units from the Risorgimento. Unfortunately the hand written labels seen in the first photo were all the information displayed, so I don't know how old they are. In terms of scale I would judge that they were in height a small 20mm, think Irregular or Tumbling Dice, but they were very slender. Let's end with a photo of Dunstanburgh Castle as approached from Craster:

No kippers were harmed in the taking of this picture.

* I have, not before time, kicked Amazon into touch.

"This is her picture as she was"

This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still,--long known to thee
By flying hair and fluttering hem,--the beat
Following her daily of thy heart and feet,
How passionately and irretrievably,
In what fond flight, how many ways and days! 

- Dante Gabriel Rossetti

As you know, this blog doesn't just write itself. So a few days after a brief burst of 'Lady of Shalott' and some Dante I went to Cartwright Hall in Bradford to see their exhibition of studies that Dante Gabriel Rossetti did of Jane Morris, wife of William and the fulcrum of one of those odd set-ups that the Victorians seem to have all carried on behind closed doors. It's well worth seeing, as are the other two temporary exhibitions there at the moment.

The first, a travelling show from the British Museum, is basically just one turban, but what a turban. It's a Sikh fortress turban from the nineteenth century with a small amount of background material and other artifacts. I was sorry to see that I had missed lectures earlier in the month on Sikh troops in the First World War and one in conjunction with the Royal Armouries on Sikh arms and armour.

The third exhibition was actually the best, a number of lithographs and prints from the city's own collection. There was inevitably, and quite rightly, some Hockney, in this case 'The Rake's Progress' a series of sixteen prints from the early sixties. There are also some colourful and amusing Glenn Baxter's and a selection of prints specially commissioned to celebrate the 2012 Olympics including works by Tracey Emin and Chris Ofili. Perhaps of most interest to wargamers would be a dozen small prints by Sir William Rothenstein entitled 'Landscapes of the War', the war in this question being that of 1914-18 because Rothenstein served as an official war artist in both world wars. However, those that I'd personally like on my walls are thirteen Lowry's from the mid 1960s.

The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth

"Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the the river winding clearly"

- Tennyson

"Tu proverai si come sa di sale

Lo pane altrui, e com' è duro calle

Lo ascendere e il salir per l'altrui scale"

- Dante

One for the malchicks

 Hello droogs; it's been a while.

The legendary wargames room from a rarely seen angle

So what have I been doing? Well I went on a walk along Outer Edge from Langsett Barn, which was very pleasant apart from the climb up to the trig point, which nearly rendered me an ex-blogger. Anyway, there were some lovely views, of which this isn't one.

Your correspondent demonstrates his grasp of camouflage

I also went to see 'The Heat'. It's not in the slightest bit original, but I laughed a few times and that'll do me. Sandra Bullock appeared to be intending to enter a Michael Jackson lookalike competition as soon as shooting was over; if you ask me she was a cert to take first prize.

And finally a word about the Guardian. I have long lamented the fact that it isn't anything like the paper it used to be. Only the other week they printed a complete load of nonsense about the US invasion of Grenada, which long-suffering readers will remember is my specialist subject. However, all is forgiven. Yesterday they revealed the scoop that Dante Gabriel Rossetti (whose sister -  those same loyal readers will also remember - appeared in these very pages just a couple of weeks ago) kept a pet wombat, which died after eating a box of cigars. If that's not investigative journalism then I don't know what is.

Remember me...

This blog has been rather lowbrow recently and, shock horror, has had quite a high wargames quotient. Apropos of nothing therefore, here is a poem by Christina Gabriel Rossetti.

Remember me when I am gone away,

         Gone far away into the silent land;

         When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

         You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

         Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

         And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

         For if the darkness and corruption leave

         A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

         Than that you should remember and be sad.

Can I point out to any god-botherers still reading this that Rossetti was an extremely devout High Anglican and that she acted as the model for her brother's painting of the Annunciation.