Beware the Hunchbacks, and Other Warnings Posted on British Roads

My sisters and I are recently back from a trip to Scotland. A good friend of the family whom we were visiting there, drove us about the countryside, putting over 2000 miles on his car, and ensuring that we saw a great deal of interest. So much driving also gave us a chance to observe some rather peculiar (at least, I found them so) road signs. There was, for example, this sign:

which appears to be advising one of the upcoming danger of running in to a tuning fork, but which is actually warning that the 2 lane road you are currently bowling pleasantly along on, is about to become 1 lane.

Then, of course, there is the sign cautioning against zombie-like hunchbacks:

which is actually alerting you to the far less sinister possibility of frail persons - i.e: the elderly, blind, disabled - crossing your path at this point.

Indeed, the majority of people crossing signs I found to be a bit sinister looking. Take, for example the sign warning of impending danger from hulking juveniles:

which is actually just a harmless school-crossing notice. Or there is this one, that suggests the possibility of imminent abduction by preternaturally tall aliens:

which is merely giving you fair warning that there might be pedestrians in the road ahead - though, I must admit, if I noticed a pair of pedestrians looking like this, I'd still be inclined to think there was something sinister about it

There is also this slightly confused sign, mostly seen along Highlands roads:

The weather, while we were in Scotland, was, up until the very last day, both sunnier and warmer than our section of California had been at the time of our departure, so we observed neither ice, nor snow. The Highlands also boasted this dire-looking notice:

which sometimes appeared with a small car beneath all that unlikely shedding from the crumbling mountain. This sign seemed to appear most often along side a bit of innocent road, looking rather like this:

in which the mountain which was about to collapse upon you, could only be faintly glimpsed through the trees.

My favourite sign, however, might possibly be this one:

Very civilised, that polite notice. Very kind of them to be so polite about it. The impolite notice, should you inadvisedly ignore the polite one, would consist of a parking warden in a fluorescent-yellow vest (with which Scotland is thronged) appearing the instant your vehicle stops moving (even if the motor is running) and writing you up a citation. Or possibly, if you had actually gotten out of your car, clamping your vehicle to the road by its wheels, so that you have to pay a ruddy great fine to have it unclamped. Obey the polite notice.

Good Advice

I recently came across the following:

Commas save lives!

"Let's eat Grandpa!"

"Let's eat, Grandpa!"

Never underestimate the power of good punctuation!

Happy Easter

A clip of the Gloria from Easter Vigil, which is probably the most exciting moment in the whole liturgical year.

Good Friday*

The traditional Catholic Holy Week ceremonies are among the most beautiful of the whole liturgical year. During the Holy Tridiuum - which is Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday - the recitation of the Divine Office is replaced by the office of Tenebrae, a very solomn series of psalms and antiphones deeply lamenting the death of Christ and His betrayal at the hands of His friends, mitigated by exaultant passage, rejoicing in the triumph of Christ. Tenebrae for Good Friday is particularly dynamic. At the beginning of the service, there is a lighted candleabra before the altar, which is gradually extiguished between the chanting of the office, which focuses primarily on the Passion and Death of Christ. The last candle is extinguished to coincide with the reading of the Death, leaving the church in darkness.... then, in imitation of the earthquake that happened on the first Good Friday, the congregation knocks on the back of the pews, and stomping on the floor. It is incredibly stirring. Here is a video of it on youtube. It is bit on the long side, running to nine minutes or so, but if you skip forward to about 7:45 - 8:00 minutes, you can hear the earthquake.) I have only ever had the chance to attend all of the Holy Week services, including Tenebrae, one time in my life, but it made a tremendous impression on me, and gave me a life long devotion for the Catholic liturgy.



* with apoligies for being late.

Killing Two Birds With One Stone

A while back I mentioned that I intended to start posting some of my own poetry, and possibly, some of my doodles to the blog. I have finally managed to do both: to whit, a poem I worked on last week, and have written up in brown ink with an illustration I made to go along with it:

Before Battle

Laird, th’ warld is unco fair
Sae deep th’ blue, uncloody sky.
Was it on sic a day as this
Ye went oot, sodger-like tae die?

“Piper, mak ready – then by yer mark!”
Up swing th’ pipes tae ma shoudder.
Did birds sing as Ye shoudderit Yer Cross
An’ marchit tae a captain’s order?

Yer Cross I sign upon masel
O! Gie the grace o’ bravery!
Bless th’ war-pipes tae th’ ficht.
(Did poppies bloom on Calvary?)

Bless ma fingers tae the pipin’.
Gie a stout heirt an’ sturdy breath
Tae follaw an’ dae manfully,
Though I pipe in the shadaws o’ death

“Piper, tak them ower th’ top!”
I gae oot wi’ pipes a-blaw.
Was e’re Eard sae heirt-brackin’ sweet,
Or music sae rantin’-braw?

A bit of back-history, for those who are wondering: during WWI, Scottish regiments were frequently led over the top by their pipers, whose tunes (now known collectively as tunes of glory) were particular to the regiment, and to Scottish - as opposed to British -patriotism. Since there is a tradition of prayerful before-action poems, I thought it would be interesting to write one from the viewpoint of a piper, hence the borrowing of Scots words and spellings.

The picture, like most of my art, is not much more than a doodle. I seem to be completely unable to create a picture of any great size. This one is about the size of a postcard, and the idea in the back of my mind was to make something along the lines of the bits of art soldiers of the two world wars, seemed to produce in remarkable quantities. Incidentally, although I have played around with watercolours for years, this is the first time I have actually used a decent sheet of watercolour paper for the exercise… It was absolutely delightful, and made painting so much easier. I do believe that I have permanently spoiled with it.

On This Day In History

... The Jacobites lost to the English in the battle of Culloden's Muir. Here is a good video about it:

Take My Mother Home

I am not, generally speaking, a fan of Black Spirituals. They are too dramatic and emotional for me. This, however, is a particularly fine example of they style, and, I think, very fitting for Passion Sunday: