History. It means quite a few things to quite a few different people.
It was around this time last year that a young writer for our fine magazine wrote some
lot, supposedly chronicling the history of a mythical watch-making company.
And this, apparently, got him off into some horrible real-Life encounter with a real
watch-maker, who, so incensed with his somewhat flippant manner in the method and make
of watch-manufacturing, almost took drastic measures to ensure such a display never
occured again (his words were, in fact, "Never ever, happen again. And I mean it," which
could be considered quite unenlightened of himself, using the dreaded 'Never ever' clause,
for the use of which we earned (and hard-earned, they were, too) severe beatings in school, and usually some vague reprimand of 'don't do that,' which is a good enough reprimand for me), and for which he should
have the same respect for the conventions of erm... modern... grammatical... whims... of... err... something, or another...),
luckily averted/avoided because he 1) had forgotten his special board with nails sticking out of one end at haphazard angles for special drastic measures-types of occasions (the nails sticking out at haphazard angles
not neccessarily making it a more effective drastic measure, but doing a good deal more to inspire fear than an orderly row of nails might), and 2) didn't happen to be wearing any trousers. Which was odd.
All of which leads me to my point, History is a rather slippery beast, especially when some people either haven't taken the time to learn the meaning of the word, or have been hurt rather badly by it in the past and now no longer like to talk about it, and certainly won't appear in the same company.
disclaimer:
It wasn't meant to be this way, it was meant to be generally a whole lot more fun, with a good deal less caffeine, and a good deal more light.
I think there was also something in the original plan about a valet and some kind of luggage. Nice luggage.
Instead I seem to have gotten stuck with a plastic bowl full of slightly soggy yoghurt-like stuff, a really good caffeine buzz (probably something to do with the eighteen cans of soda I've had at some point in the last ten hours or so), and lots of papers strewn about, and, oh, hey, there's my spoon.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. so.