Awesome

Harry Venning in the Grauniad yesterday, surfing the zeitgeist.

Clare in the Community does the Movie of the Moment.

Awesome!

This is cool...
1746 London on Google Maps...

Spacey...

Well, yesterday was a bit spacey.

First on the terrible R4 programme, the inheritance tracks of Chris Hadfield.  Including 'Where Have all the Flowers Gone?'.  Mind you, although he wanted to hand on a song we certainly hadn't heard of, we all know what it s he's really passed on...

Then yesterday afternoon through the driving rain to the Odeon Greenwich - which looks a little space agey, to see Gravity.  Which was enjoyed, I must say.  Lots of references to other space movies, and only the odd faux pas.

And so to home, and as it was a clear night we set up the telescope and looked at Jupiter.
A clear orangey disk, and all four Galilean satellites clearly visible.

Marvellous.

Centenary

So Thursday's cryptic in the Guardian was a nice effort by Paul celebrating the Centenary of the Crossword. Lots of the greats identified by clue and solution, Araucaria, of course, but also Ximenes, Torquemada, Engma(tist) and others.  All rather jolly.

So, for those in London I'm off to 'Sloggers and Betters' at the Penderel's Oak in Holborn.  Should be fun if rather fannish, I fear.

Poem of the Week

A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day

'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,

Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;

         The sun is spent, and now his flasks

         Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;

                The world's whole sap is sunk;

The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,

Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk,

Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,

Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.

Study me then, you who shall lovers be

At the next world, that is, at the next spring;

         For I am every dead thing,

         In whom Love wrought new alchemy.

                For his art did express

A quintessence even from nothingness,

From dull privations, and lean emptiness;

He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot

Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.

All others, from all things, draw all that's good,

Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;

         I, by Love's limbec, am the grave

         Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood

                Have we two wept, and so

Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow

To be two chaoses, when we did show

Care to aught else; and often absences

Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.

But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)

Of the first nothing the elixir grown;

         Were I a man, that I were one

         I needs must know; I should prefer,

                If I were any beast,

Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,

And love; all, all some properties invest;

If I an ordinary nothing were,

As shadow, a light and body must be here.

But I am none; nor will my sun renew.

You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun

         At this time to the Goat is run

         To fetch new lust, and give it you,

                Enjoy your summer all;

Since she enjoys her long night's festival,

Let me prepare towards her, and let me call

This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this

Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.

Shed, Paul and Enigmatist

Today, the these three setters have prepared a tribute crossword to the man.  And it is all about him, and lovely.

Farewell

Oh My.
Farewell John Graham, our Araucaria.
Unlike the chaste Lord Archer, never vegetating.
Rest in Peace.