Islandlwana

 

Picture the scene. Early morning in the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone) and the sun's rising fiercely in the East making the back deck untenable, so you advance to the cool shade of the front porch, strong coffee in hand and 1928 BCP Morning Prayer complete. You're met by your cohort who rocks gently on the porch swing as you announce, "I say, you'll never guess what I did last night."

Pan to a quizzical eyebrow, it's almost too hot to speak, and you expound, "Yes, I watched Zulu, the movie." Now, all three of you readers of this shallow mind blog know exactly what that means, Isandlwana, the horrific 1879 defeat of a small British battlegroup by a far larger Zulu army. Yes, you know this, but Front Porch Joint Command was uncertain, "You mean some kind of horrible Victorian African war?" Exactly so, and we changed the subject.

Front porchery aside, Isandlwana sent such shockwaves through Great Britain that I was being taight about it, with a degree of reverence, let the reader understand, in the 1970s, same with the Indian Mutiny. No wonder, our teachers were mostly former officers who'd served the Empire and fought the Hun to boot. But back on point.

Isandlwana. What a total, tragic failure on Great Britain's part, a lot of good men killed through sheer, bone-headed incompetence and upper class hubris, see Lord Chelmsford and associates. Well, you can read about the disaster on the internet, which details the defeat of some 1,500 Martini Henry wielding troops by around 12,000 spear chucking savages who somehow stumbled on Hannibal's famous flanking maneuver. Bad show, Chelmsford, and well done boys for rallying at Rorke's Drift, which reminds me.

Many, many years ago I let a rifle (L1A1/SLR) fall to the ground at a training range and my Platoon Commander gave the old drop and do 50, which I did. Half way through he asked, "Royal Regiment of Wales, name a battle honour." I replied, "Rorke's Drift," and he stumped off, a British South African, curiously.

So there you have it. Watch Zulu or Zulu Dawn, most awesome. If you already have, watch 'em again.

Cheers,

LSP

Utter Disaster Averted

 

You drive back from the mighty DFW Metrosprawl and get to the Compound a little after noon, and what do you see? A veritable river heading down to the street by the side of the house. What? Is the AC exhaust going turbo, is there some kind of mains leak? 

Good questions, so you exfil the rig to have a recce. Sure enough, water is bubbling up outta the ground, right where the boys installed a couple of clean outs. You stare at this, entranced by the cool water flowing up to water the earth. How beautiful, but this isn't some blessed, newfound aquifer, no, it's an aquatic disaster. Just picture, if you will, the mains meter spinning out of control, as if USGOV debt. 

Problem. Solution? A neighbor drives up in his lifted Chevy, "What's up, man?" and you point to the watery adversary. He takes this in, a plumber, and says, "I'll dig that up and fix it. First I'll turn off the water at the mains with my cut off," which he did.

Some 30 or 40 minutes later we'd located a burst pipe, hose attached to PVC and split at the joint, and D produced some relevant SHARK BITE fittings, right sized PVC tube, and fixed the line. Utter disaster averted, and I asked, "How much do we owe you?" He replied, "Nothing." I shook his hand, "Appreciate you, brother," and that I do; you'll be glad to know I let him park his rigs in the church car park, gratis.

At the time of writing, this line holds. And there is a moral in this short story of country life in Texas, if you care to draw it.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Pope Francis Eyes Womyn

Pope Francis is putting a committee together to look into ordaining womyn clergy.

It's a bit like Moslem immigration, when you think about it. What could possibly go wrong?

Your Old Mate,

LSP