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Here is a Sup—I mean repository of the texts of my together with some readings of them. The essays were broadcast by WXXI 91.5 Classical of Rochester, NY on Salmagundy each Saturday at 9:35am Eastern Time, from the beginning of time (1985) till May 2009 when Entropa (evil Goddess of Change-for-the-Worse-or-Possibly-the-Worst) troubled the minds of the WXXIites and they retired Simon and Salmagundy, and Rochester went into a terminal decline---for ever.
I continued on that brilliant bastion of all that's good and kultured, WCLV's syndicated Weekend Radio on many (mainly NPRish) stations traditionally on the first and third weekends of the month, though weekendage varied, till the horror crept ever onward and that too was devoured (in August 2023, a date which will live in infamy or at lease mild irritation)... and only I remain, defiant though wimpering.
Richard Howland-Bolton
There are pop-up pics and links all over the place here. In text they are indicated by a double underline like this:
mouse-overing brings the pop-up up and clicking (usually) goes to the link |
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My Dear Americans,
I do like to go for a brisk walk of a morning, one of my favourite routes being that to Gillingham: note that it is absolutely vital, before we go any further for us to know that Gillingham (/ˈɡɪlɪŋəm/) is pronounced with a hard 'G', and that it is in Norfolk and almost exactly one mile away from my front door1: pronounced with a soft 'G' (/ˈdʒɪlɪŋəm/), however, it would instead be 113 miles away, or 119 going the pretty way, and in Kent, and instead of taking just under a quarter of an hour to walk to, it would take at least one day and fifteen hours |
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My Dear Americans,
I suspect that I am one of the very few people who have moved from Texas to the UK to learn all about guns. Of course I didn't do it TO learn, and it's certainly not All about them, but...
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My Dear Americans,
since I returned to the [ʌk] (and saying UK that way reminds me of what I'm sure must be the most delightful URL in the Universe, that of the University of Oxford, "ox.ac.uk"—we are very economical with our domain names) ... anyway... returning from the [yoosa] reminded me that yousa guys love to have things, especially official-ish things in 'black and white' wa-a-a-ay more than us [ʌkites] do over here in the UK.
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My Dear Americans,
when I left England for my long sojourn in the States it was staunchly imperial, and that's in spite of the glimmerings of metrification that were looming in the gloaming (and that's only if glimmerings can loom in the gloam.)
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My Dear Americans,
I must have been distracted for the last several weeks,...or to be honest months, because, as of writing, I just noticed this Platinum Jubilee thingy is happening this week, and then I only noticed it because my American wife ordered me to put up some bunting and flags to celebrate. I did remind her which side won the Revolutionary War and that it was fought mainly to get rid of kings (and presumably queens too), but to no avail.
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My Dear Americans,
It will probably surprise you to know that I have actually spent the majority of my life (so far) in the States: twenty-odd years, well, actually 22 odd years.... and 20 even ones (since I arrived and left in odd numbered years), 42 years in total since I left Britain and a whopping 54 since I left the Beccles of my birth. Now that I've returned it certainly surprises me that, during that whole vast backward and abysm of time, absolutely nothing has changed back home
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I might have mentioned in my last letter that our move to the UK has involved a certain amount of redecorating, of which I am only trusted with what might well be called "The Grunt Work". This activity is so called because of the noises made by the actor whilst, for example, straining to detach baseboards (or more properly 'skirting-boards' since they are English ones) from the bricks they are nailed to by enormous nails of the species called 'cut nails' which are probably so called in their turn because of their effect on the actor's fingers.
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(with Apologies to )
Well, here we are: Georgia, Buddy the dog and I, more-or-less settled in the more-or-less United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (though I suddenly wonder. Shouldn't that be 'more-or-less United Queendom' rather than Kingdom nowadays?—Perhaps there is an official gender for ...um... them to go with their personal one, like their official birthday to go with their personal one: I mean what do you give to the person who has several whole countries?).
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Don't panic!
Don't panic!
Whatever you do don't follow the dictates of that old rhyme:
When in danger
Or in doubt,
Run in circles,
Scream and shout!
....or maybe you should, because, finally, the most dreadful thing in the whole World has happened. Conkers is under attack!!
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| Speaking as a Br who Exited much, much more than fifteen years ago I suppose I have absolutely no right to comment on the horribly portmanteaued ‘Brexit', so here goes… |
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