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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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Oh! Bloody whatsit!
I’m even more behind getting this written than usual.
Of course I’ve got a really good excuse this time---I’ve been performing my civic duties!
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I’m back from England and through the vagaries of just plain asynchronicty, because of the time delay between my writing of this and your hearing of it you will know, as I do not, whether England or the United States or (joy of joys) both of them have got through the quarterfinals.
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Isn’t it funny how things concatenate. I happened to drop into the office of Diana, a co-worker (by the way in England, you know, we write that as “co” hyphen “worker” but I’ve noticed that over here it’s written as one word and I now see why we add that hyphen because it’s so easy to misconstrue the word...
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It is a truism, especially here in America, that life is a lottery. And years and years ago I once did one of my essays on how we perceive that lottery, and how we see luck and chance and how differently we react to the chance of something good happening against the chance of something bad happening:
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It is a little known fact that Bashou Matsuo, the great master of that restrictive and elegant form the Haiku had but one great disappointment in life, that he never mastered the even more restrictive and elegant form of the Hairimeraku:
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I seem to remember, way back in my school days being told of someone historical, I suppose it must have been Charles II, describing Sir Christopher Wrenn’s work on the then brand new St Paul’s Cathedral as ‘awful, artificial and conceited’.
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Now I’m afraid that what follows is not going to be suitable for an adult audience because I’m going to do my [Beep]-dest to avoid using any adult language for the whole of this essay.
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I really do believe that it is part of a subtle and vicious plot for World Domination.
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I have been accused, from time to time, of paying undue attention to details that others miss, or rather, in fact, of paying undue attention to minute details that no one in their right mind would do other than avoid like the plague (that last from my children):
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The fridge was filled with the rich odours of, well just the sort of things you would expect to smell in the fridge of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty.
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