oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 31st, 2025 04:44 pm)

Dept of, what will they think of next (some of this is, as I remarked elsewhere, resuscitating Ye Good Ol' Victorian Quackerie - though, as we concurred, VIBRATORS ARE NOT VICTORIAN!!!): With the menopause dildo, we've officially reached peak menopause bollocks.

(Declaration of interest: I once did a podcast with the author.)

***

Dept of, well, on the topic of dildos, or at least, urgent phallicism: I spent a year dating conservative [frothingly alt-right] men:

Something about getting ready to go on these dates made me feel like I was 18 again — except now I had the ability to run professional-level background checks, which I did. Not because I was operating on preconceived notions but because the few peers I told about my mission encouraged me to. Given some of the vitriol against women in online alt-right groups, they felt I should treat every date as if it were a threat to my life. I came up with a routine: before a date, I’d tell at least three people in advance where I was going and what time they should expect to hear from me by. I enlisted a friend who’s a former Navy SEAL to be my unofficial security consultant.

And they wonder why women are not dating....

And that's before getting to meet the actual doozies who are, apparently, not even the worst types on the dating apps.

***

Dept of, let's have some better news, good news about snails (the snails that one thought had been mown down in the ONward March of Progress, or at least, building much needed housing):

the snails are OK. Nothing bad is going to happen to the poor little Whirlpool Ramshorn Snail, the endangered creature which our Chancellor unfairly blamed for stopping a housing development, causing me to get grumpy on social media. But in following up to try and see what actually happened, I found out a bunch of interesting – and in my view extremely heartening – stuff.
.... it was always a false dichotomy, it was always possible to have the houses and the snails too.

***

Dept of gilded snails in a very different space: From snails to street signs: Soho’s history revealed on a new digital map - the snails on the facade of L'Escargot Restaurant.

***

Dept of, gosh I have met (many years ago) the curator of this exhibition: New York City celebrates the “Gay Harlem Renaissance”

beluosus: (Default)
([personal profile] beluosus Oct. 31st, 2025 10:15 am)
Insula

        — Durobrivae, aio, ubinam ?
        — In Britannia, inquit, ut scis.
        — Pro certo de Britannia nihil scio. Perdiune aderis ?
        — Aderimus, cara uxor, donec imperator me alias mittet.
        — Num Romae manebo ?
        — Non manebis.
        — Hem. Et Decima Pollia ? Paelex tua Romae manebit ?
        Ecastor ! Hoc rixam suscitavit. In fine ex atria paene cucurrit, tonitruans sicut Typhoeus iratus, et usque ad vesperem non revenit. Fortasse in bracchia Decimae fugaverat, fortasse in cubitum alii scorti, non refert. Fortasse sermo mihi acerbior esset. Fortasse si blandita essem, Decimam Polliam meo in loco adduxisset.
        Cum revenisset, et contritionem solitam ostendimus, sive simulavimus. Et servos iussimus sarcinas colligere et domum claudere, et, laribus deisque romanis obsecratis, iter ad provinciam longinquissimam faciebamus.
        Itineris ipsius narrationem praetermittam. Tantae querellae matronae romanae non decent. Neque oppidum describam, neque castra, neque gallos rudos. Solum dicam eos Cantii incolas minus barbaros esse quam verebar, attamen minus humanos quam Divus Iulius nobis promittit. Unam autem ut ancillam eligi, puellam bellam et callidam ; melius serva domestica quam deliciae cuiusdam militis. Tolerabiliter latine loquebatur, et, ut gallica (sive britannica, sive quidvis), potebat me per oppidum ducere, quippe in villa vilissima manere recusabam. Paucis diebus omnia mihi ostendit, quoniam haud multa inibi sint. Itaque iussi Meropen — sic eam nominavi, quippe nomen gallicum mihi aures offendit — me in ripa fluminis ducere. Rationis — quam habebam, pro certo — non iam memini. Fortasse volebam flores carpere, vel nomina herbarum cognoscere, vel locum seclusum ut refugium reperire. Nil refert. Quod tum primum templum vidi.
        — Quid est, o Merope, illic in media insula ?
        — Nil video.
        — Noli mentiri. Nolim te iterum vapulare.
        Simulavit intueri cum responsum excogitasset. Pavor tamen praesens certusque metum remotem dubiumque superavit, ut responsum susurro paene reddidit : « ruina. » Tantopere horruit cum dixisset ut statim sermonem alio transferrem.
        Hac nocte ruinam in somniio vidi. Memet conspexi, sicut spectatrix semota, usque ad ripam ambulantem et extensis manibus ruinam trans aquam precantem. Mane memet inrisi. Reverentia ancillae superstitiosa somnium certe adflixit. Sententiam igitur ex animo expuli, at frustra. Proxima quidem nocte idem somniavi. Et proxima. Conspectus ruinae invisae noctes obsidebat, dies inquietabat.
        Appiam Popilliam, amicam, immo uxorem praefectus equitum, feminam satis politam, denique invisi. Exsul hic III annos aderat, et donec legio Romam reveniat, aderit. Si Merope superstitiose de ruina loqui timuit, sit matrona romana fortior. Apud se in conclavi suaviter me recepit. Servis dimissis poculisque impletis, libere conloquamur. Primum, eheu, rumores e castra et ex oppido tractabamus. Secundo poculo ad rem vorsi.
        — Conspexistine hanc insulam in flumine ? Puellam meam rogavi quid sit, et quaestio ipsa istam perterruit.
        — Hahae! Noli incolas de insula percontari. Exsecrantur locum ut sedem omnium malorum.
        — Quamobrem ? Quid inibi ?
        — Nescio plane. Et nomen insula abominantur, ut numquam pronuntient.
        — Velim adire.
        — Ain tu ? Qua de causa ?
        — Cupida sum.
        — Si locum requiris, ubi cum amatore clam convenire potes, cellulam tibi praebeam.
        — Hahae ! Gratias ago. Et fortase olim accipiam... sed nunc cupida sum in perspicienda insula.
        — Si vis, te adiuvabo. Consuetudo est mihi quodam cum gallo, e natione humaniori — romaniori quidem — quam istis rusticis. Multa de populo et de mythis eius agnovit. Eum tibi commendam, sed...
        — Quid, sed ?
        — Pollicere, mihi reddas !
        Quot dies exspectassem nescio. De nullo nisi de ruina cogitabam. Diu in cubile mansi, aegrotans vel aegritudinem simulans ut familiares respuerem. Nuntium denique mihi misit Appia, quod opportune morbum fugavit.
        Moechillum suum furtim introduxerat, ut mihi apud se (custodiae enim causa) commenderet. Fortis erat miles, conspicuo robore, et bellus — ut barbarus. De insula statim rogavi, et Appia nos sermocinantes invidiose auscultabat.
        — Ruina, inquit, fuit templum antiquissimum, odiosa natione crudelique aedificatum. Adeo immanes, adeo foedae fuerunt nationis istius consuetudines, ut civitates foederatae dudum eam debellavissent. Strage peracta captivos non ceperunt, sed hostes cunctos necaverunt. Omnes abhinc insulam abhorrent, et multi credunt larvas vel numina mala inibi insidiari. Nefas est adire.
        — Egomet, aio, adeam.
        — Locus horrendus est. Sin autem es intrepida, cras eamus.
        Scilicet non bene dormivi. Diluculo paenulam confestim indui et nebulosas per vias oppidi somniculosi ad pontem adrepsi. Gallus in ripa sub ponte cum navicula me exspectabat.
        — Verebar ne mentem mutares. Vere fortis es.
        Stola succincta tacite inscendi et silenter ad insulam remigabat. Caligo nos, immo totam orbem terrarum a nobis, celabat. Quam placida amnis, tam silens mundus. Gallum corpore praevalentem anxie spectabam, ne statim in Charonta mutatum esset. Et crepitus ramarum hebetus, paene longinquus. Soli eramus, invisi neque tuti. Is enim tremebat, sed simulabat se tremores solum frigoris causa pati.
        Strepitu immani horresco. Ridicula sum, pavore perridicula territa ; navicula ripam insulae lapidosam scaberat. Gallus feliciter lapsum fortitudinis meum non viserat. In harenam madidatam desiluit, et mihi manum extensit ut me a navicula descendere adiuvaret. Nebula quae tellus circum flumine celabat mehercle crassior in insula sedit. At, cum ripa a tergo evanuisset, paulatim divellebatur sicut numina tramitem ostendere vellerent. Denique valles arbustarum tortuosi finiunt, et in circulum columinum rudorum transiimus. Columnae erant fragosae, nonnullae vix ad coxam mihi attingebant, aliae altiores basilicae in centro oppiduli. Facies saxi nudi et antquius et barbarius videntur quam templis druidarum saxeis quae in Gallia nuper conspexi. In medio circulo ara, si immite saxum putetur aram esse. Ubique aram circum acervus ramarum humi. At vidi : non ramos esse, immo ossa.
        Duci quasi-oblito versor, balbutiens. Dein animumque linguamque regi.
        — Quid, aio, accidit ? Proeliumne ?
        — Dicitur ultimum proelium. Hostes insepulti sua ossa cum ossibus sacrificiorum permiscebant.
        — Nemo victimas curavit ?
        — Nemo ausus est. Malum omnia corruperat. Si quis lapillum pusillanimum ex insula eripit, crudeliter moritur. Ut dicitur, videlicet. Quid facis ? Noli—
        — A memet non dicitur. Nullo modo sum superstitiosa. Quodpiam ex insula victrix eripiam.
        — Quid habes ? Maxillamne... ?
        — Quid putes ? Hoccine fuit hosti, an victimae ?
        — Noli sic iocari.
        — Non iocor. Si saccum haberem, satis ossa colligerem ut trophaeum erigerem.
        — Sacrilegium ! Nefas !
        — Minus es oblectamentum quam Appia mihi promisit.
        Hoc dicto in ara sedi, volup recubui ut tibicina in symposio. Militem ridiculum lasciviter deridebam, sed fulgure obscuro omnia mutata sunt.
        Caligo atra me cingebat sicut tholus umbrarum. Arbores et columnae intus vix visae sunt. Gallus evanuerat. Formae caecae circum ara, in quo etiam iacebam immota, leniter saltabant. Susurros saevos auscultabam. Luna pestifera in coelo me despectabat, rubra et tumida, cui lux cruenta mihi cutem fucabat, etsi nihil praeterea inluminabat. Unus e circulo saltatorum appropinquavit ut me immineret. Pallam eius ac caligonem internoscere nequibam. Solum persona aënea et culter obsidianus vibrabantur. Descendit culter ad pectus. Emanat sanguis, Clamo.
        Nox erat praeclara. Dulci sub luce lunari in ara sedebam. Aberant umbrae saltatoresque. Iuxta me virgo tranquilla, pulchra proceritate, radiis lunae albis vestita. Manum mihi amicter cepit. Barbara voce sed et blanda loquebatur. Etsi verba ignoravi, intellexi.
        — Voluisti cognoscere. Tibi ostendi. Olim erunt qui nos colerent, dona darent, sacrificiis alerent. Nos numina nebulosa, quae invidiosi dei hoc in templo quondam coercuerant, eos mortales putavimus servatores nobis fieri. Ritum salutis eos docuimus, attamen anteaquam confecerunt, ministri deorum invidiosorum eos necaverunt. Quotannis ritus infectus morabatur. Quotannis sacerdote carebamus. Quotannis in templo manebamus, memoriae caducae, umbrae inanes.
        — Nemo, inquam, hac in provincia invite meretur contineri ; adiuvabo. Dic, quaseo, quid faciendum sit ?

* * *

        Me in ara iacentem semi-animam vidit Gallus, qui putaret me ebriosam. Aspere sub naviculam me duxit et in ripa haud procul oppido dereliquit. Domum properavi — sola — et protinus in cubile, quo multos dies febriculosa mansi. Et O ! tantopere somniabam. Et consilium excogitavi.
        Merope, ne me malefacturam suspicaretur, prima fuit victima, et probatio. Eam in foro adduxi quo ingentes ollas arguteas emi, ut Meropen cum onere domum mitterem. Errabam tum per speciem flores britannicos inspiciens, qui secundum vias gliscunt. Flosculum quendam quaesivi, quem venefica romana olim mihi velut soporiferum potentem commendaverat. Multos colligi et in sinu celavi, domique clam decoxi ut saga me docuerat. Proxima nocte, more meo (saltem ista in provincia frigidulosa) iussi Meropen me vinum calidum in cubile adferre ut obdormirem. Ea dimissa tres buccas exhausi, venenum in poculo admiscui, deinde petulanter eam adpellavi.
        — Merope, furcifera, reveni huc !
        — Quid requiris, o domina ?
        — Hoccine vinum an acetum ?
        — Non te placet ?
        — Videlicet non mihi placet, stulta. Gusta ! Dic mihi num homo debet bibere.
        — A ! Calidum est, o domina. Linguam urit.
        — Suffla, caudex. Gusta.
        — Odores sunt acerbi. Aqua fortasse addenda est.
        — Odoresne ? Vix odores resipit. Gusta iterum.
        — Sunt semper acerbi.
        — Mastigia ! acetum non habes, nisi in poculo. Vere, gusta.
        — Vinum non bonum, o domina. Tibi novum poculum coquam, o domina.
        Convorsa est ut abire, sed in limine stetit, manu in poste sese sustinavit. Ad eam properavi, poculum cepi ne caderet.
        — Fortis, ait, vinum nimis. Aquam... requir...it.
        Mihi ad pedes cecidit. Respirabat etiam ; animo relicta'st, ut speravi. Ancillam in lodice involui, deinde e ianua per vias trahebam. Ψυχοπομπὸν Ἑρμῆν tacite precata sum ne ullus me conspiceret, dum corpus furtim ad letum adducebam. Feliciter non magna fuit Merope, ut barbara. Sub pontem tenebrosa erat semita, sed lumen praeter naturam mihi viam ostendit. Vere potentes hi dei ignoti. Et navicula impetu invisa ad insulam navigavit. Ad aram Meropen traxi, anteaquam mugire coepit. Obluctari conata'st, sed bracchia enervata depuli cum in ara corpus posui. In tenebris culter obsidianus scintillabat, erat frigidulus sed et levis in manu et aptus, ut suo paene sponte grassetur. Deinde ancilla iugulata fons ruber eiaculabat, saxum atrum nigrescens. Contorquebantur membra victimae, lentule iacens saltabat.
        — Abi, abi, aiunt deae caeco in choro, moxque reveni. Pascere nos, nos serva.
        In cubile experrecta sum, servis sollicitatis circumdata.
        — Vives, inquiunt, o domina, deis gratia.
        — Quid ais ? inquam et stragulum ad collem attraxi, quippe stola afuerat.
        — Poculum vini venenati invenimus. Et Br-- et Merope effugit. Te necare volui !
        Tres enim dies milites homicidam ruri et in oppido quaerebantur — frustra quidem. Maritus quaestoresque alios servos interrogaverunt, sed nemo facinora Meropes suspicaverat. Clementiam poposci, ne innocentes servos praeter necessitatem torquerentur, nisi nomenclatorem mei mariti, quem odissem.
        Octavo post tumultum die adeo tranquilla factum'st oppidum ut sacrificium secundum procurarem. Filiam agricolae cuiusdam eligi, scortulum enim, quae semper infimis cum legionariis coire soleret. Insidiabar prope domicilium eius ut incautam puellam inciderem cum media nocte sese subduxisset ad conveniendum amatorem. Plaga simpliciter in occipitio eam superavi. Antiquissimi dei mihi potestatem suam crescentem donabant, quippe puellam in lodice involutam, non humi traxi, sed in umero tuli. Ad templum properavi. Ara luce invisa candebat. Erat sicca et pura, neque gutta sanguis pusilla manebat, et fragmina ossium insuper erant alba aridaque.
        Pellucidae imagines me stipabant cum cultrum obsidianum exsustulissem. Exsilientem cruorem linguis exceperunt, carnem victimae unguis dentibusque deripiebant. Non verebar neque epulas saevientes aversata sum ; aequo animo a cena abii, et ab insula natavi.
        Domi collapsa sum in cubili, nec stolam madidatam seposui. Statimque obdormivi, et O ! quam somniabam. Super terram volitabam ferocibus deis sublata. Oppidum miserum despectabam, dein Britanniam totam, dein terras maiores, et Romam ipsam ex alto conspexi.
        — Elige, inquiunt, elige tibi terram, quo regas.
        Et Aegyptum gemmiferam eligi, quoniam calida et sicca dicitur. In summa pyramide me deposuerunt ut Nilum strage cultorum deorum iuniorum fucari spectarem.
        Mane experrecta sum. Stola erat umida, lectulo stillabat, nec frigore quidem patiebar. Ancillam novam advocavi, dixi me urceum eversisse. Nescio an mihi crederet, sed sapienter silebat. Iussi servos lectulum alium substituere, et domum ad dominum recipiendum parare. Vespere in cenam sumptuosam privatissimam animum intendebam.
        Exinde tabellas pulverulenti ex arculo sumpsi ut litteras carissimo marito componerem, tam suaviloquentes quam acres, quae gloriae istius blandirentur. Puduit me haec verba mellita scripsisse, sed animum mariti faciliter, scilicet, superaverunt, ut crepusculo domum properaret. Ornatissimam me invenit, meliore indutam stola opimis cum gemmis. Eum ut victorem accepi.
        — O mi marite, aio, ad cenulam veni. Omnia tibi praedilecta habemus, et servos omnes dimisi, perinde ac nuptiae iamaim factae. Recumbe igitur iuxta me, et gusta hoc vinum...

finis
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 31st, 2025 09:34 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] mtbc!
oursin: George Beresford photograph of Marie of Roumania, overwritten 'And I AM Marie of Roumania' (Marie of Roumania)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 30th, 2025 07:18 pm)

Or words to that effect.

Anyway, general sense of Point Thahr, Misst, in this piece: Can I learn to be cool – even though I am garrulous, swotty and wear no-show socks?

Mind you, and perhaps this is a generational thing, I murmur, thinking of dark jazz cellars and so on, I so do not associate 'cool' with:

Cool people are desirable and in demand; others want to be them or be with them. That social clout readily converts into capital as people buy what you’re selling, hoping it will rub off on them.... A much-publicised paper recently published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology found that cool people are seen as possessing six attributes: they are extroverted, open, hedonistic, adventurous, autonomous and powerful.

WOT.

And further on, we have an interview with somebody author of article considers Peak Cool:

[S]tudying fashion in London, she learned how to talk her way into fashion week events, pretending she was “supposed to be there – like, no doubt about it”, she says, eyes glinting. She then parlayed that talent for networking into styling and creative consulting work. “All the coolest people I know are hustlers,” Delaney says. “If you’ve just had it given to you, then it’s not that cool.”

Hustlers??? The truly cool do not hustle.

Perhaps this strikes me as particularly Not Getting It because I have just been reading Eve Babitz?

And IMHO, you do not 'learn' to be cool: if you are cool, what you do is imbued with coolth, even if it doesn't tick the obvious boxes.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 30th, 2025 09:45 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] boxofdelights!

What I read

Finished Encampment, which was brilliant, and intense.

So intense that I had to decompress with a brief Dick Francis binge: Driving Force (1992) - a bit subpar I thought, slow start, massively convoluted plot; Wild Horses (1994) - the one involving a paraphilia I actually did a post here on back when, and making of a movie; Twice Shy (1981) which has a lot of v retro though presumably at the time cutting-edge computer nerdery involving programs on cassette tapes.

On the go

Have started - this was while I was out and about in the world last week - Peter Parker's Some Men in London: Queer Life, 1960–1967 (Some Men in London #2) (2024), since I was recording a podcast last week with the author and he assured me it was somewhat less of a downer than the previous, 1950s, volume. I think it may be a dipper-in over some while.

Still dipping in to Readers' Liberation - liked the first chapter, which is about what readers bring to the book, the second seems a bit heavier going.

Eve Babitz, Eve's Hollywood (1974) - perhaps not quite as good as Slow Days, Fast Company, but it was her first published work.

Up next

No idea: have just sent off for The Scribbler Annual but no idea when it's likely to arrive.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 29th, 2025 09:06 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] rachelmanija and [personal profile] watersword!

Not sure these links are particularly appropriate, but maybe so.

Well, I do remember her saying she scarcely noticed The Change, though she did nuance that statement by adding that she had so much else going on at the time (eldercare and other stuff) she didn't have time to notice:

Yet more on monetising the menopause: Menopause getting you down? Don’t worry, the wellness industry has a very pricey solution for you.

I am probably being horribly cynical, but when somebody goes for a home birth after a first high risk experience of parturition, one does wonder if some kind of wellness woowoo was in the mix (“She had read or heard somewhere that there was less chance of bleeding at home and that is why she wanted a home birth.”)? but this is a dreadful story: 'Gross failure’ led to deaths of mother and baby in Prestwich home birth.

This is also a really grim story about reproductive politics in Brazil: Two More Weeks: The Brutality Behind Brazil’s Reproductive Politics:

In complicated childbirth scenarios, when the life of the pregnant person and the fetus are in conflict, therapeutic abortion has historically been considered the last resort. But in Brazil, since the nineteenth century, this solution has been replaced by the cesarean operation. This was not based on medical reasons. Cesarean sections, up until the early twentieth century, were rudimentary procedures, almost always fatal to the birthing person. What motivated its adoption in Brazil was based on different logics: religious, legal, and moral. The cesarean became an acceptable alternative to abortion because it allowed the fetus to be born, even if the birthing parent died. The nineteenth-century theological and medical debates that gave rise to this sacrificial logic still shape birth in Brazil.

Synchrony between 'Catholic and fundamentalist Evangelical actors... promoting cesarean as a morally acceptable alternative to abortion' in present day.

But I am so, so fed up of people who use 'silver bullet' when they mean 'magic bullet'!

Silver bullets kill things, werewolves, mostly, right; or just generally Bad Guys when fired by the Lone Ranger.

Magic bullets Do Good - like curing sifilis, thank you Ehrlich and Hato, they are targeted remedies.

Also, however hyperliterate I am myself and have been from a young age, I don't think it's the panacea proposed here: There is a silver bullet for childhood happiness: a love of reading.

Just because she (and I and I daresay many of you who are reading this) found our happy place in reading, doesn't mean it's going to be that for all children.

I am entirely there for emphasising the role of pleasure in reading, for

meeting children where they are. It means allowing children to read books that might be perceived as too old and too young for them; it means relishing your child’s love for comics and heavily illustrated books

and not gatekeeping and niggling about what they are reading.

But I don't think this is For Everyone any more than Going Out and Playing In the Nice Fresh Air.

And on that, I really liked this: Children should have a right to play in the streets, alleys, pavements and car parks of their neighbourhoods. Refers to a letter about children playing in streets, etc, rather than in designated playgrounds and parks:

It assumes that children should be “taken” to designated play spaces, rather than allowing for the possibility that children should be able to access playable space without adults. And, finally, it fails to acknowledge that parks and other green spaces afford only certain kinds of play, and that children demand – and deserve – diverse spaces for diverse forms of play, not just ball games, swings and slides.

oursin: Frontispiece from C17th household manual (Accomplisht Lady)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 26th, 2025 06:51 pm)

I thought last week's bread was holding out pretty well until it suddenly sprouted mould - however there was still some cornbread left + rolls.

Having been out for lunch on Friday I was not feeling like anything much for supper but made partner a Spanish omelette with red bell pepper and had some fruit myself.

Saturday breakfast rolls: basic buttermilk, strong white flour, turned out v nice.

Today's lunch: Crispy Baked Sesame Tofu - not sure whether there should not have been some actual sesame seeds somewhere in the mix? also thought maybe I was a bit cautious with the amount of tamari in the sauce - and didn't think this turned out particularly crispy....; served with sticky rice with lime leaves, baked San Marzano tomatoes and mangetout peas stirfried with star anise.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 26th, 2025 11:41 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] finisterre, [personal profile] rivka and [personal profile] taelle!
oursin: A C19th illustration of a hedgehood, with a somewhat worried expression (mopey/worried hedgehog)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 25th, 2025 05:56 pm)

Just one of those weeks that felt like a strain - lower back flareups and insomnia and long-scheduled commitments that could not be deferred -

Though I did get a few small bits of life admin accomplished, like finally making an appointment for the first session of dental inlay work and chasing up whether journal reviews editor actually got my review.

But at the moment having the blahs.

mark: A photo of Mark kneeling on top of the Taal Volcano in the Philippines. It was a long hike. (Default)
([staff profile] mark posting in [site community profile] dw_maintenance Oct. 25th, 2025 08:42 am)

Good morning, afternoon, and evening!

We're doing some database and other light server maintenance this weekend (upgrading the version of MySQL we use in particular, but also probably doing some CDN work.)

I expect all of this to be pretty invisible except for some small "couple of minute" blips as we switch between machines, but there's a chance you will notice something untoward. I'll keep an eye on comments as per usual.

Ta for now!

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 25th, 2025 12:30 pm)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] aurumcalendula!
oursin: The stylised map of the London Underground, overwritten with Tired of London? Tired of Life! (Tired of London? Tired of Life!)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 24th, 2025 07:29 pm)

Some while ago I was invited to A Do for the retiring secretary of An Organisation with which I had had to do for many years over their archives and in other capacities. And since it had been this longstanding relationship and relations with the person in question had always been amiable, I said yes, I would go.

It involved a smallish lunch party in a restaurant on Battersea Bridge Road, which I discovered is nowhere near Battersea Power Station Tube station, which would have made it an easy-peasy journey from my starting place, but (according to Tfl) can be reached by a journey involving at least 2 Tube lines and at least one bus journey.

Excelsior: I set out on the 2 tubes, bus from Victoria, which involved rather a lot of faffing around the vicinity of Victoria station to find the relevant stop, and it was a nice day, and the bus journey, while it does take in things like Victoria Coach Station of unblessed memory, passes by some very nice bits of Chelsea including the Embankment.

Faffed around a bit more, having got off at the designated stop, trying to find the restaurant, but arrived in fact a little early though at least one of the other guests was already there.

And it was an agreeable occasion even if these were people I have not seen for yonks and did not know all that well outside of specific context then, and some I did not know. The food was good, though perhaps not so amazing that I'm inclined to make the odyssey out to Battersea again.

And then repeated the journey in the opposite direction, in company with one of the other guests who was bound for Euston.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 24th, 2025 09:13 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] innocentsmith and [personal profile] intothespin!

(Yogi Tea Bag tags, bringing the woowoo by random bollox generation long before AI started getting in on the act.)

Anyway, are we at all surprised by Millions exploited by ‘menopause gold rush’ amid lack of reliable information.

(Query: how far is lack of reliable information due to its being overwhelmed by menopause quackery, murmurs historian of medicine.)

Millions of women are being exploited by a “menopause gold rush” as companies, celebrities and influencers take advantage of a “dearth” of reliable information on the issue, experts have said. Healthcare companies and content creators saw menopause as a “lucrative market” and were trying to profit from gaps in public knowledge, women’s health academics at University College London (UCL) said. Researchers called for the rollout of a national education programme after finding a significant number of women do not feel well-informed about menopause.

You know what? I think part of this can be put on to the decline in the good old trad women's magazines, which had a) health columns written by pseudonymised health professionals b) agony aunts prepared to Do The Research and having a stack of helpful leaflets written in conjunction with qualified experts.

Brought to you by someone who was devouring her mother's magazines pretty much from the time she became literate and therefore encountered the concept of menopause decades before it became of personal relevance.

And what still gets very little play is what Stella Duffy points out in this piece:

while everyone in my research talked about physiological and emotional difficulties in the transition, once they were out the other side – even while dealing with workplace discrimination and the caring demands of their loved ones – all of them also described postmenopause as time of thriving and growing. We’re not done yet.

Margaret Mead mentioned this, but I'm not sure the 70s feminist discourse around 'croning' did a lot of favours to the idea of what happened after the pause.

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 23rd, 2025 09:42 am)
Happy birthday, [personal profile] chalcedony_cat, [personal profile] diony and [personal profile] em_h!


'A Moment's Thought', one of my own little pieces, played live at the [profile] kentishtowncityfarm on 17-10-25

Guitar is a Yulong Guo Chamber Concert

#guitar #classicalguitar #kentishtowncityfarm #kentishtown #livemusic
oursin: Photograph of small impressionistic metal figurine seated reading a book (Reader)
([personal profile] oursin Oct. 22nd, 2025 07:13 pm)

What I read

I managed to plough through The Wheel of Fortune and do not think I will be plunging into a major Susan Howatch re-read binge. O all those angsty men. As for man handing on misery to man, Larkinesque-like, it deepens like the Mariana trench. Plus, the Katherine Swynford-analogue character gets no interiority, and besides being pretty much normal and sensible (unlike pretty much everybody else, no, Anna seems fairly stable) is full of deep mystical working-class Welsh wisdom. Good for her levanting to Canada (can one levant in that direction?). The last section in particular had me muttering about codfish.

O what a thoroughly delightful change to move on to Eve Babitz, Slow Days, Fast Company: The World, the Flesh, and L.A. (1977) - you do not need heaving melodrama or even actual plot to be compellingly readable, just saying.

On to Anthony Powell, Books Do Furnish a Room (A Dance to the Music of Time, #10) (1971) in anticipation of group discussion at beginning of November. Getting faint frissons of that narrative pattern of that period which was eschewing ominiscient voice but having a first-person narrator who just happens to be in a position to see or hear Events and can reflect upon them.

Latest Literary Review.

Also finished the book for review but have not yet got round to getting any thoughts on it written, this week having been a bit of a week, so far.

On the go

Maggie Helwig, Encampment: Resistance, Grace, and an Unhoused Community (2025).

Also happened to notice Jonathan Rose, Readers' Liberation: The Literary Agenda (2018) when I was looking for something else - I think this must have been something in return for reading something for a publisher? - I don't think I actually bought it - but looked interesting in the light of recent musings about reading.

Up next

Having discovered that I do, in fact, have a copy of The Making of a Muckraker, maybe a spot of dipping into that?

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*Wombat Awareness Organisation: World Wombat Day!

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