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Ramblings about Fëanor

When they die, Elves are summoned to the Halls of Mandos by the authority of the Valar. But they don't have to go. They can choose.

Does Fëanor really seem like the kind of person who would accept that summons?  Even dead, having suddenly realised that he could not win, and his body disintegrated into ashes?
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The lateness of the figs

I have just eaten two ripe figs off the tree.  They were sweet, too.  21st of October is, I think, the latest my fig tree has managed to fruit yet.

eta: ... LIES.  Apparently in 2006, I was picking ripe figs at the end of November!


Because I am walking in shade a lot of the time since the valleys are so steep, so when you come up a hill into the light it feels a bit special.

Here is Brythen emerging from a Chasm.  I made him do it twice (with the aid of liver cake) because I missed him the first time but he did it so fast that I still didn't quite catch him coming over the lip of the Chasm.

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That what D&D character? quiz

Here. It asks things like 'choose a statement: I hate technology | I love technology'

THAT IS AN IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE.  I both loathe and love technology.  It is the yin-yang of my life.   What kind of insanely simplistic reality forces a choice like that?

Also 'It is better to : be yourself | be polite'.  Well, that would depend how much of an arsehole you habitually are.   If you are the kind of lovely person who is overly polite and nobody can work out whether you actually want a biscuit or a cup of tea, then for god's sake stop being so damn polite and just tell us what your biscuit choice is.  We really would prefer that.

 However, if like me you are the kind of person where everyone you know is already bored with your opinions and there is visible wincing when you open your mouth, sit down, shut up and work on the 'polite' thing.

I was a Neutral Good Human Ranger, which is,frankly, a very dull outcome, so I'm not posting the whole thing as I am sulking about it.

In other news, I heard a noise this morning that I did not recognise at first, a sort of slightly resonant rhythmic thud with a sort of slight crunch to it.  After a moment's confused listening, I worked out that it was a thrush hitting a snail on a stone.  That was once an utterly familiar, normal and domestic kind of sound, and I am somewhat shocked that things have now reached the stage where I hear woodpeckers and owls far more often than a thrush.

Autumn of socks

Bought a pile of Tesco socks, despite my objection to Tesco on their strategy of absurd drama-mongering press releases, like the Marmite thing. Honestly, Tesco always run that kind of story and people always fall for it and share the latest story that is 100% calculated to catch the eye by being zeitgesty and a bit controversial,  support the Tesco brand narrative that they are the champions of cheapness and then softly and silently vanish away afterwards like a boojum.  All Tesco news stories are boojums, except for the odd one that they'd prefer you not to know about, involving accounting scandals.

Anyway, I went to the women's sock section, and it was full of small, elegant and often rather frilly or decorated socks.  None of them looked warm.  You could buy plain black ones, but they were thin and clearly designed for wearing with Smart Womanly Shoes, not stomping through mud in boots.

So I went to the mens section again and stocked up on thick, warm socks in attractive shades of blue, purple and green, for noticeably less than it would have cost me to buy thin chilly Woman Socks.  Fortunately I am blessed with relatively large feet.

FEET HAVE NO GENITALS, TESCO.   I really don't understand why all socks are not presented in one row, going from Very Small to Very Big. I don't object to the existence of thin socks with sparkly kittens on, but I reckon that at least 80% of dogwalkers I meet are female, and there was not a single sock in the 'women's  section' that was well-adapted to that sort of life.

ETA: yeah, yeah, I know.  Don't give them money and then go away and moan about them on the internet : take the money elsewhere to someone who does it right.  But I'm SO lazy and also I have this internet right here to whinge into! 

Section through the Tamar Valley

On that walk I just posted about, there were many adits, and it was clear that the hillside was full of hidden tunnels.  So I decided to draw a cross-section through the walk.  I've uploaded the large version a bit larger than normal as there is quite a lot of small detail, although unfortunately the camera has lost focus a little at the edges so you may not be able to make out the gentleman taking a bath, whose job it is to ensure that the goblins don't get out and misbehave.

In other news, Ruggie went off to his new home yesterday, and I just got a happy email from his new owners saying he has settled in beautifully.   I'm sure he's much happier in a bungalow, and he clearly was delighted with his new Golden Retriever lady friends, who are so much easier for him to keep up with than the lurchers! 

To New Quay on Feet

We canoed past the ruins of the old mining port New Quay a month or so ago, so this weekend I thought I'd see how hard it was to walk there.

Not too hard, it turns out, though you have to park in a car park much frequented by the insane downhill mountain bikers intent on throwing themselves down cliffs, and so I did not risk the hounds off the lead lest they should run up swiftly through the trees and make an accident.   Mr Ruggie is in the lead, because he's very unlikely to do that.
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Signal Boost about crossing lines

I really enjoyed this post from jabberworks this morning, even though it is about the US elections (!)   The general idea about a conflict of language and concepts of rudeness and the problems caused to communications seems highly relevant in the UK too. 


Himalayan Balsam everywhere....

I've been walking in Sheba wood a few times recently, and there is one feature of Sheba wood that you really cannot miss.  The Himalayan Balsam.  It's a very robust and invasive non-native weed with a strong, musky scent.  I don't like the smell, myself, and you can smell it from quite a distance at this time of year, although the flowers are quite pretty in their way.

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