To Say Nothing of the Dog (Oxford Time Travel, #2)

by Connie Willis

five of us—Carruthers and the new recruit and myself, and Mr. Spivens and the verger.

bishop’s bird stump.

our squadron leader, Lieutenant Ned Henry,” he said, pointing at me,

I’m Commander Carruthers, the post fire officer.”

new recruit, Egbert

bishop’s bird stump had stood on a wrought-iron stand in front of the parclose screen of the Smiths’ Chapel.

parachronistic incongruities.”

parachronistic incongruity is an object whose removal has no effect

“Terence St. Trewes.”

Bulldogs had been used for fighting in the Nineteenth Century, hadn’t they? Fighting bulls, that was how they’d gotten their name, wasn’t it? Leaping for the bull’s jugular and hanging on? That was how they’d gotten that mashed-in nose, too, and those heavy jowls, wasn’t it?

“George said: ‘Let’s go up the river.’ He said we should have fresh air, exercise and quiet; the constant change of scene would occupy our minds (including what there was of Harris’s); and the hard work would give us a good appetite, and make us sleep well.” Three Men in a Boat Jerome K. Jerome

ab initio /ˌab əˈniSHēˌō/ I. adverb from the beginning (used chiefly in formal or legal contexts) • the agreement

‘a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts.’

Pseudococcidae…..mealybugs

A Grand Design we couldn’t see because we were part of it. A Grand Design we only got occasional, fleeting glimpses of. A Grand Design involving the entire course of history and all of time and space that, for some unfathomable reason, chose to work out its designs with cats and croquet mallets and penwipers, to say nothing of the dog. And a hideous piece of Victorian artwork. And us.