Mark Weaver

@markweaver

Author and instigator-in-chief of the scribes. Former professional archivist and records manager. Lives in the Dark Peak with more fountain pens than he realistically needs. For more details visit scriptoriumscribes.com

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Mark Weaver@markweaver· 25d

From the opening of "Pass The Duchy", in which a meeting with his father's solicitor regarding his will brings surprising news.

“Perhaps I wasn’t making myself understood. You seem unaware that your father was a duke.”
John thought about it. His father had never mentioned being a duke. It was the sort of thing you’d have expected him to say if it were the case.
“A duke, you say?”
“For tax purposes.”
“But still a duke.”
“Correct. The provenance of the title may seem a little irregular at first, but the late Mr Shoreditch researched the matter in great detail. The title is perfectly in order. Your father was a duke.”
John considered this statement for a moment. It had implications.
“Does that make me the next duke?”
“You are, or will be, once the necessary paperwork is complete and the relevant fees are remitted. I’m given to understand there is some urgency in the matter.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· 26d

John, the new Duke of Vallonné Là-Bas, continues to learn more about the duchy.

From the library, John’s next port of call was the museum. He wanted to see these tanks the Duchy had acquired from the Americans after the Second World War. Situated a short walk from the centre of town, it was not what he expected when he’d first been driven past it by Madge when she’d given him a tour. Instead of an old building with dimly lit display cabinets and a whiff of the Victorian about it, this was bright and modern, and — there was no other way of putting it — huge. Dozens of cannons flanked the entrance. For a supposedly neutral country that hadn’t gone to war in over five hundred years, there were a lot of them. They weren’t small either. They were the sorts of cannons that would spoil the architecture of any nice castle an enemy might be defending and turn it into a shattered ruin. Inside the entrance were the two tanks. According to the information board in front of them, they were an M4 Sherman and an M26 Pershing. Both had the Duchy flag painted on their sides. Beside them were all sorts of Second World War equipment — howitzers, mortars, field guns, rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers — the kind you could quite happily arm a militia with. It all looked well-maintained and in full working order.
“I see you’re admiring our World War Two display,” said the portly, tweedy man with a walking stick who had appeared. “Reginald Eccleshall, Director of this establishment. We did meet briefly at your investiture, Your Grace.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· 27d

After yesterday's "coach", we now have the paragraph immediately following.

The carriage set off at a walking pace back to the town and was soon overtaken by a succession of cars and coaches determined to get there first. They needn’t have rushed. The way back was mostly uphill, and in places it would have been faster to get out and walk. Protocol being what it was dictated that proper ceremony be observed at all times. Getting out and pushing wasn’t an option. That was what the grooms, footmen and Town Guards were for.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· 28d

Typical. There isn't a coach for ages and then three come along together all at once. Here, the duke has had his investiture at the abbey and is being taken back to town for proceedings to continue. Extract from "Pass The Duchy"

Waiting for him outside the abbey after his investiture was the Duke’s State Coach. Drawn by four horses, the gilded and ornamented carriage was driven by two coachmen. It came with two walking grooms, four footmen and six members of the Town Guard. John recognised two of these as Stan and Eric. The carriage had not been designed for speed or comfort as John Maynard, 19th Duke of Vallonné Là-Bas, was to discover. It wasn’t so bad over the gravel, but once they hit the main road, it was a different story. The iron-bound wheels and slung leather suspension soon revealed the limitations of eighteenth-century coachbuilding technology. Its main purpose was not to convey a person from A to B in comfort. Its purpose was to convey the impression that the Person inside was Very Important. Capital V, I and P. It reeked of power and authority. It also reeked of mothballs from the ducal cloak John now wore. He tried to wind the window down. It didn't. There was no winder to wind or slider to slide to open it, and never had been.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· 29d

In this snip, a business meeting takes an unexpected turn. Having learned that he is to become a duke, there's some urgency to complete the investiture. From "Pass The Duchy"

“Thank you, Jeff,” said the newly appointed Acting Chief Executive Officer. “The next order of business relates to you, John.”
John sat up.
“I wondered why I was here.”
“Your father held a unique position outside the company, which we were able to leverage concerning certain encumbrances. Due to your inheritance and there being a limited window of opportunity before those advantages expire, this needs to be ratified without delay. There’s a private jet waiting for you, and a chauffeur will meet you at the other end. Your PA has all the details.”
“What now?”
Whatever had come out of James Lucas’s mouth had not made sense, as the look on John’s face showed.
“Time is of the essence. There are only two days until the full moon,” emphasised Lucas.
To bring the phase of the moon into a business conversation seemed a little odd to John. It was not the sort of thing he had heard before in the context of corporate governance.
“Ah, yes, the moon. Two days, you say.”
He paused.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“The investiture.”
“What investiture?”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 13

In which the soon-to-be duke (who until recently had no idea he had inherited a duchy) walks through the market in the town square, buys things he doesn't need with euros, and receives his change in the local currency.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 12

In the Scriptorium this evening, the sun sets through smoke as the scent of burning peat fills the air. Tintwistle Moor is on fire again.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 12

For this snip, I'm adding extra to my extra to make it extraordinary. Here, the new duke has gone to the abbey to look for a bicycle that he borrowed and subsequently lost. It's a long story, told in full in "Pass The Duchy".

While John waited, he studied the stained glass windows and wondered which ones dated back to the fourteenth century. There was an assortment of saints and knights, some of whom he assumed were earlier dukes. The knights, that is, not the saints. From what he gathered, the earlier dukes, the first one for sure, were far from saintly. Hadn’t Sir Thomas put his fist into a pope’s face?
“Sir Edward Hawkwell, 4th Duke, before he came to a sticky end when the arquebus he was firing exploded,” said Abbot Hugo.
“He does look a bit startled,” said John.
“No, that’s just the artist. We don’t know his name, but he couldn’t do eyes for some reason. We’ve got more than a few startled saints dotted around. Hands he was exceptionally good at, but not eyes. The ones who don’t look startled are squinting. We’ve got one of Saint Michael that’s quite extraordinary. It looks like the poor chap has been peeling onions.”
“Not a chore you’d expect an archangel to be doing.”
“Hardly. Leader of the Armies of Heaven, yes. Commis chef, no. Archangels aside, I take it you didn’t come here to discuss stained glass windows.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 11

In this snip, the new duke is being given a tour of the duchy, inside gossip, and a history lesson. From "Pass The Duchy"

Madge continued the tour. As they drove, John began to understand how the Duchy had been overlooked by its neighbours for so long. Being tucked away in a valley with mountains on three sides and a river at the bottom made it easy to miss. Its position had no tactical advantage from a military point of view: the river crossing didn’t lead anywhere other than to the Duchy and would serve no purpose once you got there. Its location also made it easy to defend, not that there was anything worth pillaging if you succeeded in storming the town. Madge explained that the original castle had not been a huge stone fortress but a more rough-and-ready earth ramparts and timber palisade affair with a wooden keep. The château had been a step up in terms of resistance to attack and comfort. For one thing, you could light fires in it for warmth without the risk of accidentally burning the place down.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 10

The new duke, finding himself with nothing to do while he's in the duchy, has taken up sketching as a way to pass the time. From "Pass The Duchy"

John put his shoe back on and went in search of another object. He wanted something more difficult than a toothbrush in a glass but easier than an Oxford brogue. He returned holding his room key. As has already been said, room keys at the Boot & Garter were not plastic cards. Room keys were actual keys, large enough to be used in self-defence. They were of a size that the phrase “The Duke of Vallonné in the Ducal Suite with the Room Key” could be substituted in a game of Cluedo and still make sense. They were solid wrought iron and not easy to wander off with or lose. A door locked with one of these keys stayed locked. This was ideal if you were under siege, but not so convenient if all you wanted to do was nip down to breakfast.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 9

John, the soon-to-be duke of Vallonné Là-Bas, is picked up by a liveried chauffeur and driven the gates of the duchy for the first time. It is possible he might have had a little too much champagne on the private jet that brought him over. From "Pass The Duchy"

The Beefeater person, who John now saw was a rather stern-looking middle-aged woman, tutted and closed the door. He closed his eyes.
“Seatbelt!” came the instruction barked at him. He fumbled to find the belt and fasten himself in. The car started and sped away from the airport.
They left Geneva on the Swiss side. Once the suburbs gave way to countryside and they passed into France, he allowed himself to doze off. His eyes stayed shut until he was woken by the car passing over what he assumed was a cattle grid. Either that or it had got a flat tyre. The car sounded its horn. It was one of those old-fashioned “ahooga” ones.
“Come on, Bernard, open the gate. I haven’t got all day,” shouted his driver through the wound-down car window. The horn sounded again. There was a delay while this Bernard, whoever he was, appeared from the cottage that stood beside the white wooden gate that blocked the road. When Bernard did appear, he wore the same Beefeater attire, but with buttons undone and parts of it, including the hat, removed.
“I’m coming, Madge. Keep your hair on.”
“You knew I was coming back. You should have left it open.”
“What? And leave the border unsecured? I was having my tea.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 8

I'm going to have to go with damp instead of humid for this snip. This comes from towards the end of "Pass The Duchy" where a bad 'un is about to get his comeuppance.

“What do you say, Mr Pirbright?” said John cheerily. “You’re my First Minister and know about these things.”
“We could prosecute Mr Lucas here in the Duchy or hand him over to Interpol and let them take care of matters,” said Pirbright. “Either way, tradition would say to clap him in irons and toss him into the dungeon while we wait for justice to take its course, and you know the Duchy, we do love our traditions. We have an oubliette we’ve not used for a while: one of the cold, nasty, damp ones which still has chains on the walls. They’re quite rusty, but we can leave you with a tin of metal polish and a rag to clean them up. It will give you something to do while you’re down there.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 7

In this scene comes the first indication of financial irregularities within the duchy. From "Pass The Duchy".

“I don’t suppose our First Minister has seen his way to return his overdue library books yet?” said John.
“They’re still overdue. It’s been three years now, and the late fee isn’t getting any smaller.”
“I’ll be seeing him in the next few days while I’m here and will make it a point to remind him.”
“That’s good of you, Your Grace.”
“I could always pay it for him.”
“You could, but that wouldn’t return the books now, would it? Besides, the fine is getting a little on the high side.”
“How much is it?”
“Three and a quarter million pounds. Duchy pounds, that is.”
John did the sort of double take usually only done by cartoon characters who walk off a cliff and realise they are standing on thin air.
“Excuse me, what now?”
“Three and a quarter million.”
“Duchy pounds. How much is that in real money?”
“The Vallonnése pound is real money.”
“Isn’t that rather a lot?”
“They are rather late.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 6

Despite (or perhaps because of) the town of Vallonné being built on a slope, there are two football teams in "Pass The Duchy". Here, the new duke is given a history lesson and a tip on which team to support.

“I know we have two football teams: Vallonné North End and Vallonné Athletic,” said John.
“Almost right, Your Grace. It’s Duchy North End.”
“Give me some credit. I was close.”
“Did you know they’ve been banned from playing each other for the past two hundred years?”
“I take it they didn’t get on well.”
“Hardly. Before there were proper rules, it was basically a pitched battle fought in the streets. Getting the ball to the goal was an afterthought. It always started friendly enough, but grudges from previous years invariably came out, and it would go downhill from there.”
“Or uphill if they were playing the other way,” quipped John.
“Very good, Your Grace.”
“Where were the goals?”
“One was north of the town where the cricket club is now. The other was close to where I have my allotment. It’s all changed now, of course. They have a stadium which they share. Athletic have it one weekend for their home matches and are in the French league. North End have it the other and play against the Swiss.”
“Have either of them ever won anything?”
“Athletic came close a few years ago, but no. Neither of them is any good if I’m being honest.”
“What should I say if I’m asked which team I support?”
“I say I’m with Athletic against the French and North End against the Swiss. It saves a lot of arguments.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 5

The new duke has returned home for his father's funeral and is at a loose end. He decides to take a walk in the park to think things over. From "Pass The Duchy".

When he arrived at the park, John took a moment to admire the display of ornamental bedding plants with their vibrant, almost gaudy colours at the entrance. Not being rushed to be in a particular place or get to a meeting meant he could take his time. When he’d had enough of marigolds, pansies and petunias, John continued his walk. He strolled with no end in mind other than to wander and see where his feet would take him. Today was a day to stop and smell the roses, and the rose garden would fit the bill nicely. He had a rough idea of where it was and made his way there, pausing now and then to take in a view or inspect one of the statues dotted around the park.
The rose garden sat inside a walled area. John sat on a bench in front of a border filled with what, according to the labels, were hybrid tea roses. They came in a wide range of reds, pinks, yellows, oranges and whites. Bees flitted between the blooms, taking full advantage of the floral banquet laid on for free by the parks department. John remembered that Madge had said the duchess had grown roses and had one named after her. He got to his feet to study the labels more closely. After several minutes of scrutiny, none that he could see were called anything even remotely connected to the duchess or the Duchy.
John returned to the bench.
“The Duchy,” he mused. He was a duke. He had a duchy. It had all happened so fast. He was now, what had Wikipedia called it? The constitutional monarch of a sovereign microstate?

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 4

In "Pass The Duchy", we are introduced to the duchy for the first time. The new duke begins to take in his surroundings.

The car drove on along the winding road that led up to the town of Vallonné Là-Bas. It was a picturesque sort of place that seemed frozen in time. It was as if the twentieth century had passed by unobserved and the twenty-first century hadn’t noticed its presence either. There were little details, the roads being tarmacked for one, that suggested this wasn’t the case. The Duchy had been one of the first towns in the area to have adopted electricity, indoor plumbing and all the other modern conveniences we now take for granted. It simply didn’t advertise the fact. It didn’t do advertising in the modern sense at all. Shop fronts looked like something out of the 1950s, and there were no high street chain stores.
Now that John had perked up, he took a more active interest in his surroundings.
“There aren’t many cars around, Madge. Can I call you Madge?”
“It’s Mrs Whittaker to you, and no, there aren’t many about this time of evening.”
Not counting the one he was in, the only other car he could see stood parked in front of the château, which looked exactly like he remembered from the leaflet. Built of stone like most of the rest of the town, it had round towers with conical roofs and an impressive entrance with the Duchy flag hanging over it.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 3

The opening of "Pass The Duchy", in which some unexpected details come to light.

“…And then there is the matter of the Duchy.”
PJ Purkiss of Purkiss, Ipcress and Shoreditch, solicitors, sat back in his chair. Before him lay a desk covered with deeds and papers. The man sitting opposite now seemed confused. It was turning out to be one of those will readings.
“Duchy? What duchy?”
“Mr Maynard, your late father used some, how can I say it, unconventional legal and financial devices. He was rather keen to avoid the attention of the revenue services when it came to matters of taxation.”
This came as something of a revelation to John Maynard. He’d only gone in to have his dearest departed’s last will and testament read to him to find out how much he was getting. Now he was on the receiving end of some as yet unspecified disclosure about taxes and a duchy.
“I don’t follow you.”
“Indeed. Perhaps it is for the best.”
“Quite.”
PJ Purkiss continued.
“However, the fact remains that certain details need to be settled.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
John Maynard had no idea what was happening but wanted to give the impression that he did.
“Forgive me for saying,” said Purkiss, “but you seem unaware that your late father was not who he said he was.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 2

In "Pass The Duchy", the newly arrived, soon to be duke is struggling to come to terms with being called "Your Grace" all the time.

The Ducal Suite was as grand as the name suggested. Dominating the oak-panelled room was a massive four-poster bed with an ornamental carved headboard. Each corner of the room had a massive Duchy of Vallonné Là-Bas flag resting in it. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the number of suits of plate armour standing around the room made it look like it had been invaded by a detachment of knights from the Middle Ages. Shields with the Duchy’s coat of arms hung from the walls, flanked by an array of weaponry that could have armed a small garrison if push came to shove.
John had no sooner sat down on the bed when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace. I’ve brought your suitcase. Is there anything else you’ll be wanting? I can bring you up a spot of supper if you don’t want to come down to the lounge. The steak and ale pie is nice, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“That sounds tempting,” said John, “but please, none of this ‘Your Grace’ business. My name’s John. And yours is…?”
The young woman smoothed her apron.
“Phyllis, Your Grace. Phyllis Boot… John…”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jul 1

I'll be WIPSnipping from "Pass The Duchy" this month. In yesterday's snip I mentioned a Cow tournament (sadly this is not knight errants jousting atop bovines). Here the new duke is introduced to the game.

John went through to the lounge where the game of Cow was taking place. Two pairs of elderly gents sat opposite each other at a table with a bottle of Mr Lambert’s Duchy gin in the middle.
“Do you mind if I watch?” asked John.
“Not at all, young ‘un. Pull up a chair,” said the man holding a deck of cards.
“You do know I’m the duke.”
“Aye.”
“That’s all right then.”
John watched as the dealer, an old boy with a magnificent white moustache and iridescent emerald green cravat, went round the table and dealt each player nine cards, then placed the remaining cards face down out of play.
“For the duke’s benefit, mardy hens are on the loose, jokers are drunk, and the duke is dead — not you, of course, Your Grace — long live the duchess!”
The four old boys raised their glasses in a toast. John raised his soda and lime.
“To the duchess. God bless her and all who sail in her.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 30

I had planned to end June with one last snip from "All Steamed Up", but there is no mention of anything even remotely like a tournament. One day ahead of schedule, here's a snip from "Pass The Duchy". When a chap inherits a duchy, it comes as a surprise, as he had no idea his father was a duke.

As he worked his way through the next few weeks, John began to conclude that the duke didn’t do all that much. Wednesdays were always Council days, except for the third Wednesday in the month, when it was held on a Thursday. Its business was varied, but it would have been a stretch to call these sessions “attending to the great affairs of state”. They seemed to be about more trivial things, like whether the bus service out of the Duchy should run on the hour or at four minutes past. It was not immediately obvious why four minutes would make a difference or why it was important. It took seven meetings to reach a compromise of two minutes past the hour. Admittedly, other business had been transacted. It hadn’t been seven meetings given over entirely to the matter of the bus departure time. Even so, it had been a protracted discussion.
The only newsworthy item so far had been about fundraising for a new cricket pavilion. The old one had burned down the previous summer after a barbecue party had got out of hand. The duke had donated £25 and provided an assortment of prizes for the raffle. Most of the main stories were about the various fundraisers the cricket club had been organising. These included a sponsored bed push from the town to the abbey and back, a Cow tournament and a talent contest. The three-legged egg and spoon race around the Duchy’s borders had to be abandoned after none of the entrants made it past halfway before giving up. The most unusual event had been a mass game of Statues in the town square, entrance fee sixpence. The winner had been a Miss Wilkinson, 13, who won a three-month supply of ale from the abbey. This was changed to a three-month supply of ginger beer once it was realised how old she was, despite her father’s protests.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 29

Water, water, everywhere... and with 22 instances in "All Steamed Up", this is the one I've gone with.

Down on the high street, Dave Ansell brought Sukie to a stop, or rather Dave’s wife Annie brought Sukie to a stop as he was busy shovelling coal. Even steam engines must obey the rules of the road, and traffic lights on red mean stop, no matter who is driving. He took a moment to check the various gauges, dials and levels. The pressure was good; they had plenty of water, lots of coal, and nothing was sticking, overheating or running hot. It was about as good as it gets. Looking down at the people who had appeared on the pavement, it never failed to please him to see the big grins on their faces. Wherever they went, smiling people came out to watch Sukie go past. The same could not be said of motorists. The ones coming the other way tended to point and smile. Dave could imagine the expressions on the faces of those stuck behind him. They would pull over to let them pass when they could, but some people are simply impatient. The odd one would flick the Vs to show their displeasure at being held up. Dave always made a point of smiling and waving at these people. If they wanted to make something of it, he was in a steamroller and likely to come off better in any confrontation.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 28

It's Synonym Sunday for Sensational. Regular readers should know by now that events in the Victorian Weekend in "All Steamed Up" don't always go as planned.

It was Friday evening in Old Hall Park. A stage had been set up for the Victorian Weekend, and an old-time music hall variety show was in full swing. It had drawn a good crowd, much to Mrs Duckworth’s delight.
Nelly Noodles and her Amazing Dancing Poodles were performing. Nelly Noodles was actually Brenda Dawson, a part-time dental assistant, and the poodles weren’t so much dancing as wandering around looking bewildered. Half of them weren’t even poodles. The only dancing going on was by Brenda, and her dance was more like someone with itching powder down their neck being poked with a cattle prod. To give her her due, it was a spirited performance marred only by one of the poodles, a cocker spaniel, cocking its leg and giving the footlights a watering.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 27

We're back to the organiser of the Victorian Weekend in "All Steamed Up" fact checking to see who's eligible again. This time it's the Women's Institute that is in the firing line.

“This won’t do,” said Mrs Duckworth. “This won’t do at all. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to pack up your stall, Laura. This is a strictly Victorian event, 1837 to 1901. The WI is out by fourteen years by my reckoning.”
“It’s not my stall; it’s Mrs Harris’s. She said something like this might happen. She said to say that although the first meeting in Britain didn’t happen until 1915, the WI began in 1897 in Canada, which is inside the cutoff period. I think the stall will be staying where it is, don’t you?”
“Which rather proves my point,” said Mrs Duckworth. “It might have started in Canada, but if the first British meeting wasn’t until 1915, it isn’t Victorian here.”
“Mrs Harris thought you might say that. She asked me to explain that the idea was based on the British concept of Women’s Guilds, which were created by the Reverend Charteris. The Valehouse Women’s Guild was established in 1889 as one of the early adopters. It later became part of the WI, so you see its roots are well and truly Victorian. I believe the term is game, set and match.”
Mrs Duckworth turned an interesting shade of puce at this.
“Come on, Martin. I won’t stand here to be insulted like this.”
“It was hardly an insult,” said Martin. “She simply stated the facts.”
“Facts that you should have checked before I was made to look a fool.”
“Yes, Betty.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 26

In the Scriptorium today, the scribes have been thinking about the Reflecting Pool and have a theory about how the 350 foot gash in the side might have occurred.

An arm emerging from a lake, holding a sword which is pointing straight up. The blade has a flash of green light on it.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 26

In "All Steamed Up", it's time for Polly the traction engine to set off for the steam rally using local landmarks as waypoints.

By the time they’d finished breakfast and hitched up the living van, the pressure had built enough for them to set off. It wasn’t a long route, but they had a few detours to stop by several pubs despite what they’d said to Jacko’s wife, Jayne. The first stop was the Fox and Hounds (a quick pull over to check that Polly was running smoothly as they’d only been going for ten minutes). Next came the Royal Oak (to drop off the now repaired lung tester). Then came the Wheatsheaf (oil up the bearings and a half of shandy because being drunk in charge of a steam engine is a serious offence), followed by the Spring Tavern (top off the water and they did nice pies which they could have for lunch later). It was with some reluctance that they’d passed the Palatine, the Old Tup, the Albion, Masons Arms and the Drovers, but they couldn’t stop at every one. When they passed a pub that had long since been closed, they removed their caps as a mark of respect. There were a lot of bygone pubs to pay their respects to.
“I got thrown out of that one on my eighteenth birthday,” said Jacko as they stopped at what had once been the Ring O’ Bells and was now an estate agents, “which were funny as I’d been drinking in there on and off since I were seventeen.”
“Why’d they throw you out?” asked Alf.
“They found out I was eighteen,” said Jacko.
“But that’s the legal drinking age.”
“They said it were for all the other times I weren’t.”
“Fair enough,” said Alf.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 25

This is only half of the sushi I made earlier today. I said I made too much rice. As it’s another hot day forecast for tomorrow i know what lunch will be. Tea will be a ploughman’s *IF* I can summon up the enthusiasm to make crusty bread in this heat.

Two dishes laden with sushi, one of maki and one of nigiri

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 25

I don't have pyramid in "All Steamed Up", but there is one in "Pass The Duchy" (also a WIP). To put the snip in context, the protagonist has inherited a duchy, which came as a surprise as he had no idea his father had been a duke. Here, he is talking to the director of the town's museum.

“As you say, you don’t need to make a decision right now. Let me show you the Egyptian gallery.”
“I wouldn’t have thought the Egyptians would have figured much in Duchy history.”
“They don’t, but the 14th Duke was quite the collector. It was all the rage with him. He had cratefuls of the stuff shipped over from Egypt. It was in his will that he was to be embalmed and wrapped up like a mummy when he went. He was the one who died in the aeroplane crash in 1921. He even made it into a pyramid. It’s a small one by Ancient Egyptian standards. It’s in the grounds of the abbey, if you’re interested. They all are.”
“All who?”
“All the dukes, well, the Hawkwell ones. The 17th, the American one, wasn’t so much buried as scraped up. A grand piano fell on the poor chap. Squashed him flat as a pancake. He’s buried in Texas. And then there’s your father.”

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 24

Following the theme of "It must be Victorian to take part in the Victorian Weekend", there is a last minute panic that the open air concert in the park had run into a problem.

The concert was set to be a last night of the proms affair with a mishmash of music from the Victorian period, some of it classical, some of it music hall. Martin Pemberton had got there early and spent the past hour going over the programme with a fine-tooth comb. He did not want a repetition of the dressing down he’d been subjected to following the WI debacle. He might not be able to get the programme changed, but he could forewarn Mrs Duckworth and, in doing so, save his skin. His blood had run cold when the first thing he saw was that the finale was going to be the 1812 Overture. 1812 was far too early to be Victorian, and with the year in the title, Betty was certain to notice; she couldn’t not. Queen Victoria hadn’t even been born then and wouldn’t be for another seven years. Searching on his phone, he looked up details about the overture. His panic subsided when he discovered that it had been written in 1880 and performed two years later. It was okay. It was Victorian.

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 23

Has it really been 10 years?

“May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.” Firefly

Mark Weaver@markweaver· Jun 23

I'm going to have to vibe "penalty" in the sense of punishment to be able to play today. It also helps to know that Strangeways is a prison in Manchester.