I’ll bet there were adults reading this in The Times (since Murdoch, no longer the Newspaper of Record it once was but let that pass) whose first and possibly only response was: “no 16-year-old wrote this, it’s too articulate, where’s the teenage slang to “prove” the age of the writer*, and “what Scottish schoolgirl calls herself “a straight-A student” anyway**? That’s American!”
*Writing like an adult but adding a non-adult age to the work really does cause this response: I saw it more than 40 years ago; our Fifth Form English teacher suggested writing letters to the local paper about various subjects, stating our ages and why the subject concerned us. Mine wasn’t the only letter whose writer’s age was questioned in the replies column.
**The old O-level grades were numeric, but GCSE grades are alphabetic, so “a straight-A student” means what it looks like. So what if it’s an American term? US-made movies and TV shows aren’t exactly uncommon, and the phrase sums up the concept of “a student/pupil who consistently achieves top marks in exams” with brevity and clarity.
According to the Internet, this is what Europeans think breakfast in America is like.
this is exactly what breakfast in america is like
I HAVE THE EXACT SAME PLATES
Who burns their egg (and only eats one) and drinks coffee with THAT much milk in it?
those crazy Americans
As a proud Floridian I can verify this is exactly what an appropriate breakfast looks like in America.
Actually, that’s two egg short. and wheres the hashbrown?
Last time I had a breakfast like this it wasn’t in America. It was in the Netherlands (Hotel Kurhaus, Scheveningen-Den Haag.) The Dutch approach to bacon matches mine (and the photo). It should be crispy, and there should be lots of it.
There was no gun (not needed) there was no egg (not wanted) but there were waffles-while-you-wait, hash browns likewise, cheese, cold cuts, flaked chocolate sprinkles for the toast (yes, really) and three times the amount of bacon. Or the same amount three times after commutes to the buffet. Whatever.
Someone asked D “Don’t you feed him at home?” She said, “At home, yes. Here, it’s their problem…”
this needs to be in every art history books in 10 years
I roared, or more correctly, watching it at oh-dark-thirty, I almost burst not roaring because I’d have woken D up.
This one is for all the Sherlock fans who’ve speculated about the Bedsheet in Buckingham Palace scene, and for everyone who’s done the modesty dance with towel and swimsuit on a public beach because you all know that if anyone sees your bum or your bits even for an instant, the world will end right there and then.
Watch, and wonder, and be amazed. Amused, too. A lot.
How can I never see it again? Too late. It will always be with you now.
I first saw it by accident on a wet Sunday afternoon in the early 1970s when it turned up on TV. It was one of those horrid-fascination things that keeps you from changing channels because you keep waiting for the joke.
IT. WAS. NOT. A. JOKE.
Jeremy Fisher the Frog is far, far worse. He jumps. Like popcorn. Popcorn with legs. Long, thin legs… (Youtube, if you must.)
Here’s the problem: most of the Beatrix Potter stories contain an undercurrent of dry humour to entertain the adults who’d be reading these “talking animal stories” to little kids. That humour does not exist in ballet.
"Matrakçı Nasuh was an Ottoman Renaissance man. He excelled in martial arts, mathematics, science, painting and literature, among other fields. Matrakçı Nasuh’s name, in fact, comes from the word for ‘cudgel’ or ‘mace’ in Ottoman Turkish, matrāḳ, as he was famous for his virtuosity in employing this weapon and creating games and military training involving the mace, as well as other weapons, even writing a work on the art of swordsmanship.
In addition to his contribution to the writing of history and the creation of games with cudgels, Matrakçı Nasuh was also famous as a technician. The most well-known episode of his engineering talent occurred during the circumcision ceremonies of Süleyman’s sons, Mehmed and Selim, when he famously constructed two moving citadels out of paper from which soldiers emerged and staged a battle, as part of the public spectacle and celebration in the Istanbul hippodrome.
He was also a talented painter and created a new form of art that depicted the topography of cities of the Ottoman Empire with great precision and detail (pictured).”
I wonder has anyone translated his works on swordsmanship and mace-fighting?
The swordplay one is especially intriguing. This would have involved curved weapons like the shamshir and kilij, but it wouldn’t have simply been an eastern version of sabre use, because they were often much more curved. (Older Islamic swords were straight.)
Why were they curved? Why were they sometimes so severely curved? What was the advantage? How were they used?
Like any sword, there must have been many techniques more elaborate than just “hit your enemy with the edge and poke him with the point…”