R. Harrison's Blog, page 12
December 20, 2016
A Man’s Meal
Having to revert to batchelor fare for an evening – fixing up from felonious damage and interviewing for a new alarm system – I had a chance to try a combination that is decidedly male oriented.
The meat course:
2 strips bacon, streaky (UK), meaty (USA). Cut into pieces and fried until nearly done.
4 pieces pounded steak. Fry with the bacon until 1/2 done, then turn over. Add two drops of Mayan hot sauce (green, smoked habanero peppers) to each piece. Turn over and finish.
When the bacon is nearly done, start water to boil dried tortellini – for one person about 1/2 cup. When the tortellini is nearly done add frozen peas to the water.
Serve with beer.
Solar Now Produces a Better Energy Return on Investment Than Oil
Solar power is a go!
The future is not good for oil, no matter which way you look at it. — Motherboard
*****
Solar — it’s not just a clean power source producing zero emissions and almost no local water impact, it’s also now one of the best choices on the basis of how much energy you get back for your investment. And with climate change impacts rising, solar’s further potential to take some of the edge off the harm that’s coming down the pipe makes speeding its adoption a clear no-brainer.
In 2016, according a trends analysis based on this report by the Royal Society of London, the energy return on energy investment (EROEI) for oil appears to have fallen below a ratio of 15 to 1 globally. In places like the United States, where extraction efforts increasingly rely on unconventional techniques like fracking, that EROEI has fallen to 10 or 11…
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December 17, 2016
Squidly Do-right
Not many pictures with this post.
[image error]Winter is upon us, just as I’m getting better are the biking. It’s not too hard to keep warm in mid-30’s (1-2) degree weather when you’re commuting. (45-50 Mph max). If I keep my trunk warm – wind shell in my outer jacket and a layer inside seems to be enough – then I’m pretty comfortable. Although I do need slightly warmer gloves. As long as you don’t have a “death grip” on the handlebars your hands will stay warm – though your fingertips may get a tad cool. The chill begins to penetrate at the high end of those speeds so real highway riding would require more layers.
SMIDSY (sorry mate I didn’t see you) accidents seem to be the biggest hazard so far. Atlanta drivers tend to slip into tiny gaps in stopped traffic so that they can turn into the other direction. You can’t see them because the other cars are blocking your view and they aren’t looking for you. This drives me up the wall when I’m driving a car, but that would be only a fender-bender.
The roads themselves aren’t too bad. There are a few places with perennial steel plates – which are a real headache, but the drivers seem to be aware that you might need to swerve around them.
Stop and go volume delays are a royal pain. It’s not too hard to creep along, but unlike an automagic transmission, I have to use the clutch. I even managed an steepish uphill creep which is not bad. I like, scratch that, love being out in the air, but there are limits. Half an hour to go 300 metres is a bit much.
My little CBR250 looks too much like a scooter, so I have idiots trying to pass it because they seem to think I can only go 25. Usually I let them by because it isn’t exactly smart to get into an argument with 2 or more tons of steel cage. There is no point in pushing the speed to 50 just to slam into a stopped car in front of you, is there? The one defensive thing I do all the time is to look quite far ahead on the road. I do that when driving and probably more when riding simply because I get a much better view.
December 16, 2016
The Art of Deception 44
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
[image error]
This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week continued Alice’s formal introduction to Sir Roderick – who she had chased through Bristol and Bath while she thought he was a French spy. Neither of them is overly keen on the other right at this moment.
Roderick objected, “Sir, she had me arrested in Bristol, and then in Bath; I’d rather not say, Sir; it still hurts; she assaulted two militia-men and … What a tangle.”
“So I understand … why didn’t you give her the recognition signal?”
“I did, or has it changed since I’ve been out of the country?”
Alice asked, “What recognition signal, Uncle … I still can’t-”
Lord Grey laughed at the idea, “Nonsense; Alice my dear, Roderick is an accomplished agent; One of the best, ever; I can’t imagine a better mentor for you. Besides, whether you like him or not, his re-emergence into society will provide an excellent cover story; you only have to dance with him, once or twice a night at diverse assemblies. Surely, that cannot be too objectionable; it’s not like I’m asking you to accept his hand.”
Alice’s expression suggested it might be, but she remained silent.
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
The dates are off by a few months but one of the things Roderick brings with him is correspondence with Aaron Burr, the then vice-president of the United States.
Most people remember Burr for his duel with Alexander Hamilton. However he was in contact with the British ambassador Anthony Merry (who appears earlier in this sequence). He, Burr that his, offered to bring part or all of the Louisiana purchase to the British for the measly sum of half-a-million dollars. That and an naval fleet. Jefferson found out and had him tried for treason. The evidence was inconclusive, but Burr joined people like Benedict Arnold in the anti-hagiography of American history. Foreign involvement in American politics goes back a long time.
Still working on a cover idea – hard even though I’m a dashed good photographer (if I say so myself). That and editing the manuscript to put more description/reaction into it. (not to mention a few thousand words).
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstein’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
Like poor Cecelia, ” The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere 
This is a fun read.
December 11, 2016
Sunday Snippet, Clearing Weather.
This is the start of another story Amelia and I are putting together. There’s a pun in the title that will become obvious in time.
It starts with the trope, Lady Rachel on her way to London, is stranded in the country by an unfortunate accident. They’ve made their way to the house in the distance, but not without slipping in the muddy lane.
The Master was introduced here. He was somewhat annoyed at the disturbance, but willing to see that his guests were properly entertained. The housekeeper, Mrs Hobbes, leads Rachel and Lucy to their rooms to prepare for dinner The carriage wright makes a cameo appearance in a previous snippet.
Last week saw the arrival of Rupert’s Uncle George and a hint at the complicated family history – a history that was not completely … harmonious.
After a peek into Rupert’s history, George makes a somewhat unusual proposition to Rachel which was continued last week.
This week, the rain finally scuds off to the North Sea leaving a fine day – for riding and other things.
The Weather Breaks.
Next morning, the rain, having finally, finally broken, George, with the time hanging heavy on his hands, found Rachel and Lucinda at breakfast and said, “I feel like a ride. Do you ride Miss?”
“I used to.” Rachel grimaced, “Sold my hunter to pay for this trip so in a sense I’m wearing her … Maybe she’s riding me.”
“That’s too bad. Rupert used to keep a good stable. He’s let it go in the last years, but I’m sure there’s something worth throwing a leg over. Would you be willing to accompany me on the downs?”
Lucinda gushed, “Yes. I like to ride as well.”
George bowed to the inevitable chaperone, and realizing that Lucinda was better company than most chaperones, rose and said. “I’ll inquire about the horses and see if there are side-saddles.”
After he left, Lucinda turned to Rachel and said, “What an elegant man.”
“Yes, A pity he’s engaged … to a Miss Deacon, his ‘Charity.’ The good ones are all taken. I think we’d best hurry to London before the rest are gone.”
“Don’t be so cynical. There’s always, what was it Lord Bedlington called him? Gas.”
“He’s handsome enough, I’ll grant you, but so dashed odd. Buried in that workshop of his.”
“You can change that, can’t you? Or at least take an interest in his work.”
“I suppose.” Rachel studied the room, found it lacking inspiration, and finally said, “I suppose I could change my name to Sodium, Natria or something elemental. Then he’d like me.”
George overheard that as he entered the room, “I wouldn’t, Ma’am. Rachel is a pleasant, if unusual name.”
“My father found it in the Old Testament. Could have been worse, Delilah or Jael. What did you find about the horses?”
“I found Brindle and he sent a footman. Unfortunately, he remembers only one serviceable side-saddle. If that.”
Lucinda’s face fell. “So a groom will accompany you.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” George bowed gently again, “I should much rather have both your company.” As he straightened, he smiled at Rachel, “Lady Hayforth, I await your pleasure.”
It’s probably obvious that the title, “A Formulaic Romance” refers obliquely to chemistry. There’s another arcane reference in the text. Anyone caught it yet? It’s sort of, maybe, perhaps, important, given what Rupert worked on in the past. (No one answered last week, so I’m leaving the question pending.)
The featured image, “Stretchit” shows a bete noire of mine. Women did not ride astride their horses. There were several reasons, and not just “modesty” as such. Still nearly every modern “period” film has the actresses riding astride. Not that I blame them, astride is much easier to ride than sidesaddle. Still neither Rachel nor Lucinda would dare to ride in any other manner.
December 10, 2016
The Art of Deception 43
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week Alice met the agent she would work with. It was … something of a surprise. The conversation continues.
Alice stood and pointed, “You!”
“You!”
“What are”
“You”
“Doing”
“Here?”
Roderick ignored Alice and demanded, “That was my question, I can’t possibly work with her, Lord Grey.”
“Nor I him, please Uncle.”
Lord Grey beamed at them, “I see you’ve met; excellent; saves time on tedious introductions.”
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
The discussion will shortly turn to various items Sir Roderick brought back from “those rebellious colonists.” One of the things he absconded with is a copy of “Mr Jefferson’s machine.” Thomas Jefferson is one of the several inventors of a wheel cipher.
The wheel cipher, in this case a more modern implementation that was used until the start of the second world war, is not bad. It would have been difficult for 19th century cryptographers to break. But not impossible.
The US has a long history of using this system or its logical equivalent – strip ciphers. The message is put in one column and then some other column is read out as a cipher. Paper strips replaced the wheel cipher because they’re easier to change and more important in a battlefield situation, easier to destroy. Since nearly every soldier smoked, and the paper was typically nitrated, it would only take a touch of flame to hide the key.
These ciphers also illustrate an important concept in security. They (the modern ones) were not intended for top secret communications, but instead were used to handle tactical secrets. For example, to let the artillery know which German hill to shell without letting the Germans know until the shells fell on them.
It may seem strange that the British are still referring to the Americans as colonists. It took another war to finally convince them that independence was here to stay. The bad feelings lingered into the start of the first world war, where had the Germans been vaguely clueful, we could have come in on their side. The statue of Baron von Steuben at Valley Forge NHP was donated in 1915 by the ‘German-American Bund’ and German language newspapers were common in the US until the Zimmerman telegram and the Lusitania.
Still working on a cover idea – hard even though I’m a dashed good photographer (if I say so myself). That and editing the manuscript to put more description/reaction into it. (not to mention a few thousand words).
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstein’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
Like poor Cecelia, ” The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read.
December 5, 2016
The Secret Supers – A guest post from Aurora Springer.
Gargoyle Hunt, Book 3 of the Secret Supers
Danger is the last thing on Estelle’s mind when she visits the University of Oxenford for a summer course. But, mysterious thefts and shadowy figures spur her into action. With Toby five thousand miles away, Estelle and her winged horse must hunt for the culprits alone. Soon they are embroiled in a mixed bag of aliens and ancient magic. Toby’s unexpected arrival throws her into turmoil and spurs events into a climax. Under pressure to succeed, Toby is trapped in a web of deceit. The two supers have less than a week to catch the crooks and salvage his reputation.
Excerpt
Outside the entrance of the mound, the hippies were debating the alignment of the Kennett Long Barrow relative to the major axis of Stonehenge. Estelle hid a smile and stepped back to gaze at the rock entrance. She climbed to the top of the barrow in search of a quieter spot, enticed by the promise of a cool breeze and extensive view. A handful of people lounged in the grass above the entrance. Further along the mound, two middle aged women sat next to four small dogs.
Estelle strolled toward the end of the mound. The two women made an incongruous couple. The thin one had a severe black dress and long black hair framing a pale face, while the other woman had short gray curls, round pink cheeks and wore a flowery frock. Two of the dogs, miniature greyhounds, scampered over and sniffed at Estelle’s knees. She bent down to pet them.
The plump woman said, “I see you like dogs.”
“I love animals,” Estelle said, smiling at the friendly woman.
The thin woman stared at Estelle, sharp black eyes contrasting with her pale complexion. Lidding her eyes, she whispered, “I see white feathers.” She opened her eyes and asked, “Do you have a pet bird?”
With a flutter of wings, the speckled white pigeon landed on the mound nearby. “I’m not a pet,” Rockette squawked indignantly.
“Hush,” Estelle sent.
“Not a pet and not a bird,” the dark haired woman said, glancing at the pigeon.
Her pink cheeked friend smiled at Estelle. “Would you like to sit down and chat for a few minutes, dearie?”
“The dogs have yappy thoughts. Better find out who they are,” Rockette advised.
If the mare could hear the dogs, Estelle guessed they must be Farleon animals. She sat on the grass and the dogs lay down and licked her bare legs. “Thanks. I’m visiting Oxenford for a summer course.”
“One of our American cousins?” the thin woman asked.
Nudging her companion with an elbow, the plump woman said, “I’m Misty Tibbit and my partner is Dot Farthingale.”
“Estelle Wright. I’m from Atalanta in the United States.” She petted the two dogs curled beside her. These women and their Farleon animals were her kindred.
The pigeon waddled closer.
“And who is the bird that isn’t?” Dot asked in her astute fashion.
“My companion is a mare called Rockette,” Estelle said, gesturing at the pigeon.
“I can talk to the dogs,” Rockette announced. “They like to hunt Zarnoths.”
Misty gestured to the small greyhounds. “Meet Wolfie, Molly, Patch and Catch.”
Sighing with relief, Estelle said, “I could use some Farleon friends. There’s trouble in Oxenford. Mysterious thefts and living stone gargoyles. I guess they might be Zarnoth creations.”
The two older women exchanged glances, and Dot mumbled, “Ill dreams troubled me two nights ago.”
“Never mind the dreams,” Misty said. “The local newspaper was brim full of the university’s losses. Along with a mite of speculation about the criminals.” Fondling the ears of the dog sitting beside her, Misty nodded at Estelle. “We’ll see what we can find out.” She rummaged in her handbag, pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and scribbled a note. Handing the paper to Estelle, she said, “Call us if you need help. We live in Hodgecombe Cottage, Little Wickham. It’s not ten miles from Oxenford.”
“Thanks!” Trusting her new Farleon friends, Estelle offered her phone number in exchange.
Secret Supers Series
Teen superhero, Starrella, and her flying horse combat alien crooks.
Super Starrella, Book 1
Starrella Falls, Book 2
Gargoyle Hunt, Book 3
Complete List of Aurora Springer’s Books: http://auroraspringer.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html
Author Bio
Aurora Springer is a scientist morphing into a novelist. She has a PhD in molecular biophysics and discovers science facts in her day job. She has invented adventures in weird worlds for as long as she can remember. In 2014, Aurora achieved her life-long ambition to publish her stories. Her works are character-driven romances set in weird worlds described with a sprinkle of humor. Some of the stories were composed thirty years ago. She was born in the UK and lives in Atlanta with her husband, a dog and two cats to sit on the keyboard. Her hobbies, besides reading and writing, include outdoor activities like gardening, watching wildlife, hiking and canoeing.
Media links:
Website Facebook Twitter Google+ Blog
December 3, 2016
Sunday Snippet, A Modest Proposition, ctd.
This is the start of another story Amelia and I are putting together. There’s a pun in the title that will become obvious in time.
It starts with the trope, Lady Rachel on her way to London, is stranded in the country by an unfortunate accident. They’ve made their way to the house in the distance, but not without slipping in the muddy lane.
The Master was introduced here. He was somewhat annoyed at the disturbance, but willing to see that his guests were properly entertained. The housekeeper, Mrs Hobbes, leads Rachel and Lucy to their rooms to prepare for dinner The carriage wright makes a cameo appearance in a previous snippet.
Last week saw the arrival of Rupert’s Uncle George and a hint at the complicated family history – a history that was not completely … harmonious.
After a peek into Rupert’s history, George makes a somewhat unusual proposition to Rachel. This week continues their dialog
An Unexpected Visitor and a Proposition.
“I see. You aren’t expecting me to do anything … improper, compromising. I still desire marriage, although not with Lord Hartshorne.”
Lucinda had sat silent through this exchange, “Miss Rachel, please. This isn’t becoming and I’m afraid you’ll live to regret it.”
“I know Lucy, but to be honest, Lord Bromley warned me that I was cutting it too fine when I first wrote to him.” Rachel stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then at Lord Bedlington. “On the understanding that I shall simply be a friend, or at least do my best to be a friend, I’ll accept your offer.”
“That’s the spirit. You won’t regret it, and my Charity will be pleased to see her new nephew at Almack’s. Get her mother to show you the town.”
“Why not yours?”
“Ah, well, she prefers that Rupert not get married. Afraid he might break the entail. However, what we’d do with his estates is beyond me. It’s one thing if he doesn’t produce an heir. Entirely another if he doesn’t try.”
“I see. There is a complication, Lord Bromley expects me this week.”
“Not a problem, I’ll frank your letter. Um … I have one of my own to send to the city, so if you write yours quickly, I’ll see that it gets sent today.”
“To Charity?”
“Why would you write … I’m sorry, mine’s to her.”
“As it should be. Where did you find paper?” Rachel rose, followed immediately by Lord Bedlington.
“The library, in a desk below a stuffed eagle.”
“All those creatures, I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable writing while they watch.” None the less, Rachel found her way to the library and ignored the animals’ unblinking stare while she wrote a short letter to her sponsor, to let him know that she would be later than expected, but would arrive, in style, escorted by a member of the ton.
It’s probably obvious that the title, “A Formulaic Romance” refers obliquely to chemistry. There’s another arcane reference in the text. Anyone caught it yet? It’s sort of, maybe, perhaps, important, given what Rupert worked on in the past.
The unusual firearm shown in the featured image is another clue.
The Art of Deception 42
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week Alice sat, nervous, in her uncle’s office while he reviewed her work. Pleased with it, this week he elevates her to active status and introduces the agent with whom she will work.
“Yes, I’m assigning you to work with one of our best agents, Roderick, Lord Fitzpatrick; he’s just back from a long stint in the Americas.”
“Sounds delightful, is he handsome?”
“I’m sure you’ll like him; just the man to squire you around the assemblies; one of the leading tulips of the ton, a real nonesuch. Odd thing is, he also reported finding a French agent, in Bristol and then Bath; the agent hit him so hard that he ended up in the hospital overnight; do you think it was the same one?”
Alice pondered his words for a few moments, and said, “Might be, he was … rather obvious about it.”
“Funny thing that, Lord Roderick said she was-”
The servant knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He and Lord Roderick entered.
Alice stood and pointed, “You!”
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
Lots of great books and one of mine (Frankenkitty)
Still working on a cover idea – hard even though I’m a dashed good photographer (if I say so myself). That and editing the manuscript to put more description/reaction into it. (not to mention a few thousand words).
This is a little later (1880’s), but shows the first gasoline vehicle. Note that it’s a motorcycle. I doubt Herr Benz wore “All The Gear All The Time,” but then he didn’t have to worry about those new fangled automobiles on his roads.
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstein’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
Like poor Cecelia, ” The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read.
December 1, 2016
Turkey Pie
Meat pies are a traditional way to finish up with leftovers. Leftovers such as turkey.
Step 1) (Day before) boil the bones and less desirable parts of meat. (back & wings). I break it up and cover it with water. Then I boil for 4-5 hours until the fluid is dark and slightly viscous. Doesn’t that sound delightful? That’s the collagen dissolving to give the stock body.
Step 2) Filling. Precook by boiling two or three potatoes. Do it with the skin on. I’ll also cut up three or four carrots and add them to the mixture. Once they are cooked, drain and let cool (you can overlap this step with making the rest of the filling).
In a deep frying pan saute (tablespoon olive oil, tablespoon +- butter) two onions and 5-6 stalks of celery. Cut up the turkey while these are cooking. Add about 1 1/2 cups of the cooled stock to the frying pan and start the reduction process. Put the turkey and carrots (if they’re done) in the frying pan while you’re reducing. Reduce the stock by about 1/2.
Step 3) Crust. 2 cups flour, 1 stick margarine, teaspoon salt, teaspoon sage, teaspoon thyme leaves (I suppose you could used “mixed spice” in the UK). Cut the margarine into the flour mix. Then when you’re ready to roll it out mix in about 1/3 cup cold water. I add the water in smaller amounts as it’s easy to add more and dashed hard to remove it. Divide into 2/3 and 1/3. Roll the 2/3 out and line a 9 inch glass pie dish.
Step 4) Assembly. De-skin and cut up 1/2 the potatoes and place on the bottom crust. Add the rest of the filling from the frying pan. Then skin and put the remaining potatoes on top. Roll out the remaining crust and cover/seal with the lower one.
Bake at 375 F (210 C – slightly hotter than moderate) for about an hour. Since fluids may leak from the pie, it is a good idea to put the pan on a baking sheet with sides to catch the liquid before it messes up the oven.
Enjoy.
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