The Golden Egg, and other anomalies

There are some real sad people on the internet. I feel so sorry for them. No, I really do. They have some idea that what everyone believes isn't the truth, and then they go and start to fight against the reptiles. It might be some sort of joke, but from the little I saw of it, it looks like someone put a lot of time into it and really believes it. I was looking for a plausible name for my mythical Inca city, then came across this rubbish (it would be hilarious if no one believed it). maybe I shouldn't link to this kind of thing, and I'm sure that since I have said this about it, it will get more clicks than it deserves.

Today Paula had a birthday party of sorts. We had an Easter egg hunt. Some of the eggs were wrapped in golden foil.

The Golden Egg

The scorching heat of the sun at this time of the day was unbearable, like an ambivalent foreman overlooking the factory floor of the world, the sun dictated work here just as it does the rest of the world. From about 10:30 till four in the afternoon each day, the excavation team halted their toil and returned to the cluster of caravans and tents, seemingly tossed in a rather haphazard manner among the boulders like some of us play petanque. As the archaeologists returned with the mornings find. A buzz of excitement swept through the temporal village. "They've found them!" someone half whispered, half choked as they ran toward the main tent. The grimy, exuberant archaeologist who had made the discovery was there, with a grin that would make a certain cat from Cheshire envious, her grimy hand shaking other hands in varying states of grime. The "discovery of the decade" as people were already calling it was located in pride of place in the centre of the tent. The legendary "oeuf d'or metallique" was a legend no more. The near mythical "Huevo de oro meta¡lico" was discovered deep in a convoluted passage way deep beneath the ruins of the once tropical city of Tlexcxutnal, the last stash of the legendary Inca gold. From out of nowhere, someone conjured a bottle of champagne, and the three cheers echoed off the sheer cliff walls of the area.

The 6th Airborne

After Church today, there was a big red mattress used mainly for gymnastics and stuff like that. We used it to land on after jumping off the stage. It was rather fun.

The 6^th Airborne

The massive thumping sound vibrating through the steel fuselage was deafening - likely from the fact that this aircraft had two Bristol Hercules XI radial engines, each engine putting out 1,590 horsepower. It was a converted bomber, modified instead to carry a hopefully more effective package than six or so tonnes of explosives. Rows of men silently sat on bench seats on the sides of the massive steel shelled aircraft, most staring at the floor, quietly going over their objectives in their head. In the distance, visible through the cockpit windows, the flak exploded over to the south in scorching infernos, peppering the air with shrapnel, glowing orange against the smoke from a thousand detonations permeating the atmosphere at that altitude of 700 odd feet. As they neared the drop site the men stood as one, ready to face the hidden enemy in the darkness of that early summer morning over the coast of Normandy. The Green light blinked on, GO! GO! GO! Someone shouted, and half pushed, half jumping, the Paratroopers exited the plane just as the flak in their part of the sky opened up with a rain of hot metal shards, their 'chutes opening as predicted, catching their fall into the darkness below.

Dark shapes loomed up against the slightly lighter of the fallow wheat fields. Trees. Something for the paratrooper to avoid. The ground, came up fast, and the soldiers hit the ground - two of them - Private A. Moore, who sprained both ankles and Corporal J. Sinclair, who damaged his knee landing on his side. All told, a good time was had by all. I'm sure we'll be in Berlin by Christmas

Three Rousing Huzzahs!

Sunday, on the days that we have church lunches, we often have a competition, of who can bring the best thing to the shared lunch. This time 'round, I made a Pav.

3 Egg Whites
3 Tablespoons cold water
1 cup castor sugar
1Tsp Vinegar
1Tsp Vanilla Essence
3Tsp Cornflour

Beat egg whites until stiff, add cold water and beat again. Add castor sugar very gradually while still beating. Slow beater and add vinegar, vanilla and cornflour. Place on greased paper on greased tray and bake at 150 degrees C for 45 minutes, then leave to cool in the oven.

This one at the beginning was going to either be about a kitchen where implements of terror are made or about a p lab. I just thought that I might need to explain it a bit more.

The Synthesis

Heat radiated from the discoloured aluminium pot on the stove, the flames from the gas fire enveloping the exposed metal with a soft blue haze. The hand inhabiting the perishing yellow rubber glove grasped the corroded long handled spoon made out of indeterminable materials and slowly, carefully stirred the opaque mucilaginous liquid. The hand performing this potentially dangerous task belonged to John. With his other hand, the now slightly apprehensive John turned on the air vent. The poisonous fumes surged from the incandescent flames, the smoky gaseous vapour climbed as it was sucked into the tube through the fan, wafting into the clean air outside, warming the earth by some ingenious method whereby the gas in question was able to either retain the heat, or somehow reflect it better than it’s neighbouring molecules of nitrogen and oxygen, somehow insulating the earth better from the coldness of the vacuum of space. With a slightly shaking hand (coffee) John poured the rapidly jellifying plastic explosive into a square steel container to set. C4. Guaranteed to obliterate the competition.

La Pavlova es bonito