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Hark! The Heraldry

I have a slight obsession with heraldry, which started about the time that I moved to England. This coincidence in timing is probably because certain English people care a great deal about their and/or other people’s rights to use coats of arms and whether they are using them correctly.

Who knows where all the rules came from, but suffice to say they are ridiculously complicated and prescribe every imaginable configuration. Are you a widow who’s also the heir to a title because you’re an only child? There’s a rule for that. Are you the ninth son of the first son of a living title bearer? There’s a rule for that.

There are rules for what colors you can use and when to use them, what animals go where and what position (attitude) they can be in. There’s even a special language (mostly English with healthy doses of French and Latin) used to describe exactly what the arms look like. The Royal Coat of Arms of the United Kingdom, for instance, looks like this:

And sounds like this:

Quarterly, first and fourth Gules three lions passant gardant in pale Or armed and langued Azure (for England), second quarter Or a lion rampant within a double tressure flory-counter-flory Gules (for Scotland), third quarter Azure a harp Or stringed Argent (for Ireland), the whole surrounded by the Garter; for a Crest, upon the Royal helm the imperial crown Proper, thereon a lion statant gardant Or imperially crowned Proper; Mantling Or and ermine; for Supporters, dexter a lion rampant gardant Or crowned as the Crest, sinister a unicorn Argent armed, crined and unguled Proper, gorged with a coronet Or composed of crosses patée and fleurs de lis a chain affixed thereto passing between the forelegs and reflexed over the back also Or. Motto ‘Dieu et mon Droit’ in the compartment below the shield, with the Union rose, shamrock and thistle engrafted on the same stem.

The rules and styles of heraldry also vary widely between the countries that employ them, but since I don’t live anyplace but here, I don’t really care (and the English system is quite enough to sort out!).

Here, look at these:

A quilled funeral hatchment with excessive mantling (the frilly bits adorning the helmet at the top of the shield), circa 1692. This would have been displayed on the coffin and later in the church of the deceased arm bearer.

The fantastic arms of the South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands, home to introduced reindeer (crest), and native fur seals and macaroni penguins (supporters).

The marshaled arms (multiple arms combined into one shield—in this case quartered ad nauseam) of George Nugent-Temple-Grenville, 1st Marquess of Buckingham. Aptly described by most scholars as “completely redonkulous,” this was presumably an exercise in grandiosity and not intended for everyday use.

Around the Berg

Now that the year is half over, we went on our first proper evening walk of the season. The only things I miss about the last place we lived are the canal (for walking and birds), the part where we lived in a housing estate with street lights (so we could go on evening walks all year), and the one really good charity shop in the village.

But this is what our new house has to offer:

Our resident pheasant, whom we have recently named Kevin. I cropped out the giant mess of dead grass under the bird feeder that he and a few of his closest friends have created in trying to gobble up the dropped seed. Kevin himself comes by at least twice a day.

Graffiti on an abandoned railway arch (presumably a victim of mass railway closures in the 1960s)—we make a right here and walk along where the track used to be.

Three sweet little lambkins, chillin’ out and maxin’ and relaxin’ all cool.

The universal threat.

The first real sign of spring—our daffodils are in the shade, so this forsythia bloomed first.

You Tell Me

It’s that time again—time to spend hours filling out government forms begging them to please, please let us continue to live and/or work in the UK! We promise we won’t require recourse to public funds! (As it says on our current visas.)

I really don’t like the part where we have to send our original documents through the mail. Particularly our passports, just in case there’s an outbreak of the rage virus in the meantime—we need to prepared to be Blackhawk-airlifted out of here at any second! Why else would we be paying all these US taxes?

My very favorite question from the forms (besides the old standbys about our respective involvement in and/or support of terrorism, crimes against humanity, and/or genocide [during peace or war—they've really got you coming and going with this one!]):

Q—”Are either the applicant’s current and/or any one of his/her previous passport(s) or travel document(s) that he/she has used to travel to, and remain in, the United Kingdom which shows his/her current leave unavailable?”

A—Reply hazy, try again.

Scheming

Once upon a time, let’s say 4.5 years ago, I got married (incidentally, so did my husband). I had this idea that where we really wanted to honeymoon was Iceland.

Who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear.

Because Stephan was spending all of his vacation time on finishing his MBA, though, after the wedding we instead spent a few nights at Skamania Lodge, and put off Iceland until some indeterminate point in the future.

A few months later, he took me on a (surprise!) week in Maui, which we decided was our official honeymoon.

But now, our five-year anniversary is fast approaching, and don’t we all think it would be an excellent excuse to visit Iceland?

Iceland certainly thinks so: they have a shiny new tourism website with a brilliant promotional video there on the homepage that you should definitely watch.

I for one am really looking forward to the fermented shark and boiled sheep heads.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Pancake Day, of course! There is something endearing about the entire country sitting down on the same day once a year to eat one of the world’s more mundane foods.

American style with lemon juice and sugar.

American style with cheese and honey.

Did I manage any pictures of the traditional English-style pancakes? Absolutely not! But we had those too, with the same toppings. Pinky swear.

The Books List

It should come as no surprise that The Books List is quite similar to The Movies List, except that it is populated entirely with books.

It started out as a compilation of book lists from places like the Modern Library and Time and the BBC, but I also add other books to it all the time. [Current tally: 421.] I am fully prepared to not ever actually complete it.

Also like The Movies List, this one is full of books that I would not normally choose myself. Things like The Clan of the Cave Bear, Dune, and multiple L. Ron Hubbard titles, which I can’t say I’m looking forward to.

On the other hand, it has also effected my introduction to important authors I hadn’t bothered to get around to yet, like Willa Cather and E.M. Forster and Evelyn Waugh. Bonus points for that.

It also includes the 46 remaining books of the 101 Books list. Unfortunately, this sub-list is taking approximately forever to finish, because I didn’t have the foresight to create or complete it with enough time before I found out we were moving to England. All 101 books are currently in storage somewhere (I say this like their location isn’t noted right down to which number of box they’re in), and I refuse to purchase new copies just to finish the list.

So I borrow them from the library if possible—some things, like US history and religion, are not big topics here—or download free e-books or audiobooks. Or occasionally a combination thereof. If it’s a particularly interesting or long book, I listen to the audiobook while I’m doing computery things or cooking, and read the hardcopy or e-book when I’m not.

And now, you can keep tabs on what I’m reading with that handy “i’m currently reading” section over there on the sidebar. Lucky you!

The Movies List

Every now and then when someone recommends a movie or book and I reply with “it’s on my list,” this is not figurative.

The Movies List is a compilation of eight of the American Film Institute’s “100 Years” lists. Lots of them are included on more than one list (The Wizard of Oz is on five), so the grand total of films is 409. [Current tally: down to 171.]

Because I don’t get to pick the movies, I’ve been watching lots that I would normally not choose myself, particularly older ones.

What I’ve learned since I started watching older movies that I normally would not have been compelled to:

1. Most remakes fall somewhere between “unnecessary” and “desecration.”

2. Elizabeth Taylor was a stone cold fox. See also: Marilyn Monroe’s appeal.

3. You need to watch more Sidney Poitier films.

4. Even Alfred Hitchcock has his off days. Ditto Steven Spielberg.

5. Musicals are excellent accompaniment for ironing.

6. The good Westerns are really quite good.

7a. If I never have to see another Mel Brooks movie, it will be too soon.

7b. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Realize That No, I Get It, I Just Don’t Think It’s Funny. I even watched it twice, just to make sure. The third funniest movie of all time? Really?

7c. I’m very glad that Woody Allen is now too old to be considered a viable love interest and he’s forced to stay behind the camera where he belongs.

8. Lots and lots of pop culture references.

This has been my report on The Movies List. Tune in next time for: more than you ever wanted to know about The Books List.

I Made You This Stuff

May I please bring to your attention, Internets, that there have been a few changes around here. Though, let’s be honest: if you can’t tell, I can’t help you.

Seeing as people have been known to actually give me money in exchange for graphic design services, I thought maybe it was about time for a wee little blog redesign. It’s only been four years.

A Little Behind Schedule

I almost forgot—a long time ago was Christmas. Britain also has this thing you may have heard of called Boxing Day, which is December 26 and can perhaps best be analogized to the day after Thanksgiving—the big holiday is out of the way, and now you get a mini-holiday on which you can do what you actually wanted to do all along.

For us, it was lots and lots of games. We had at some point decided that since it would just be us for the Christmas weekend, what we really wanted to do was play every game we owned. And so we did. The rules went like this:

1a. Every game must be played one time, and one time only (no do-overs).

1b. Each version of each game must be played  (for instance, we have three sets of backgammon: one normal, one magnetic travel, and one electronic).

1c. Each deck of cards must be used to play a different game (for instance, we have three decks, which we used to play speed, another version of speed, and cribbage).

2. One point for winning a game, no matter the amount of time or effort necessary (Monopoly win = speed win = Guitar Hero win).

3a. The winner puts away the game (this is a house rule anyway—it makes losing much more palatable, and the winner is generally too busy gloating to mind doing it).

3b. The loser selects the next game and sets it up.

4. The selection of any background entertainment (music, movies, etc) is alternated.

We may have to alter the rules slightly if there are ever more than just the two of us playing, but I think what we have here is the beginning of a fine Christmas tradition.

In conclusion, and in case you didn’t hear:

[Okay, FINE—Stephan won 18 to 13. Bah Humbug!]

From the Archives

Several months ago, Stephan’s mom came to visit us, and we went to this one place called Fountains Abbey, where I took this picture.

The British have this saying about a “cat among the pigeons,” but this is more like:

I like to imagine that this poor little cat just happened to be wandering by one day when the pheasants hatched, and they imprinted on him instead of a more appropriate parental figure. They seemed to like him a great deal and stuck pretty close by whenever he moved. I think there are more pheasants out of frame as well.

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