Four eggs (about 4 of the hens now broody).
Saw a stork standing among the ibises the other day. It is enormous – English heron would look small beside it.
Greenfinch evidently exists here as well as the goldfinch, both as in Europe.
Broad beans grown round here are very good, no black fly at all. It seems tangerines are damaged by frost though ordinary oranges are not.
 Orwell mistakenly gave the year as ‘37’ for 14.1.39 and 17.1.39
I feel George on absentmindedly writing the wrong year in January, but to go back two years?
Time goes by
If you don’t mind my asking, are you a Harold Lloyd fan?
I kind of like a little black fly with my broad beans; at least, on the side.
Oh, and how about some taxonomic information on the distinctly alien, gargantuan ibises you mentioned—a sketch would do.
Where were you two years ago?
An image of self –
Stork among the Ibises:
Orwell is happy
If the posts between 13.1 and today were of Type 0 sensu strictu, it could be that in his delirium he just wrote the wrong date.
Just in case, I propose adding a class of posts: Type 0a, for days on which there were simply no eggs to report. The problem is, there’s currently no way to distinguish between Type 0 and Type 0a.
We still don’t know for sure how many chickens he has. As I recall, he started with 12, but a few died. Say he has 8, of which half are broody. Broody hens do lay much less, if at all, so it’s possible there were no eggs on at least one of the past few days.
I propose that somebody form a Committee to Break Down the Orwell Blogging System to Its Molecular Level. This is way too cool.
I nominate “dave” for Chairman of said committee.
…..gargantuan Stork among the ibises….. Sorry.
Yes, [I admitted] I am obsessed, but that doesn’t mean I’m not paranoid.
(Unbeknownst to my interrogators, you see, the craftsmen had fabricated a scytala and the foregone conclusion loomed on its tipping-point like the nano-second before a fireworks display.)
And just because I stop by here every couple of hours 24/7 doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. I’m busy watching Jack Bauer‘s back, too, ya know.
I don’t think this entry could be the work of a delirious man – unless of course the stork turns out to be a donkey.
Shouldn’t the plural for ibis be ibi? It should be.
JL3; Its true we were both codebreakers back @ Bletchley Park in ’41-44,and you were good,so good you built an exact ENIGMA machine out of toothpicks…what a showoff!! Too bad you sat on it at that Christmas party…
Obviously you are using a bit of code yourself these days(never mind GO…)….
You have me stumped old boy…The absolute randomness of it all,the looseness of association… I’me flummoxed, I don’t mind saying so…
Q says you are using of primate (? macaw monkey) to tie the code together with random keystrokes…processed by Google, and then converted…
Jolly good thing old Adolf never “got to you”…not even with that offer of your own personal U-boat ,and the lederhosen..
Delirious? Insane? or just crafty..
4 eggs is a lot
Yes. It’s true I wrote a Perl program that even displayed graphs in Excel in real time of the permutations. Mrs. 3rd found it very annoying. I kept making her look at it. I was using a Top Secret Yahoo! API, however.
Ibii looks kind of cool, too.
Just one hotel in DC will serve 12,000 eggs this week. Now we know what the eggs were for.
JL3; Thank you for that “pearl” of wisdom…
I had (another) peek at your website(blog?), (curiosity killed the cat)
Whats up with that???? I note GO figures prominently in it…(poetic licence?)
Anyways I felt like I was in a “real” Chinese restaurant,and the menu was in Mandarin…clicked on something and was sent to a page of ???Perl wisdom or??
More craftiness or???
Q is working the problem furiously…
I have to caution you that a couple of chaps from (?) Interpol were nosing around the Bureau the other day.I told them I had never heard of you but they showed me a photo of you(the one with the parrot).
Could have knocked me over with a feather!!!
This entry will self destruct in 70 years…
Originally, I had 5 or 6 of my favorite feeds there in the sidebar. There might be a totally different set of widgets there before the day is out.
Now that I have Jack Bauer in my back pocket, I have access to some groovy gizmos and this has inspired my latest post, Properly Applied Technology is the KEY.
That’s more like it,concise,contemplative,deep,dare I say crafty….. And set in 1938…an enigma to me…
I especially liked the bit about “the Stark Reality of the Subliminal Chromosome”….
You and GO have a lot in common,except he wrote about other deep subjects,politics and eggs….
Where IS todays egg count??Maybe GO is in a (temporary) COMA,or delirious,seems to be getting sloppy lately..
What do I tell those spooks when they come around again? Maybe its time to HIT THE MATTRESSES..,GO DEEP,change your cover,or at least put that macaw on a short leash..he’s gone dirty I think..
for the (future) purposes of this site,I’ve decided to change my name,somehow it just got me thinking of Catcher in the Rye…
Why didn”t old GO ever write something like that,or did he???
About 4 hens broody? Is the 4th broody or not, George? So much for incisive observation / precise writing.
I hope some of these eggs are going into baked goods by now, or E & E are going to have to sell the extras.
Surveillance photos clearly show that they only barbecue chicken portions, now that you mention it.
Recently-leaked documents reveal this droll bit of insight:
After 12 hours had elapsed, all was quiet except for a subdued clucking sound emanating from the bog.
Yes, yes, it’s a finch. But it’s not a proper English finch, old chap.
what’s happening? has he been ill, is that why he was mistaking ’39 for ’37? where is he?
We’ve had several posts of Type 0 (see 13.1.39 comments) — I think we can rule out Type 0a, since the non-broody hens have surely continued laying.
Someone mentioned a while ago that GO/EB takes a trip to the Atlas Mountains sometime around “now,” so we can hope he’s just out of the office, rather than too ill to write.
Maybe the next egg is taking an extremely long time to squeeze out.
Ski season should be well under way, so makes sense that he is up there now.
the stork is clearly overwintering, in spring it will fly over the pillars of hercules and follow its big red beak perhaps as far as poland where it will breed, and make clapping noises, then in autumn it will fly all the way back down the map to george
I suggest if you’re going to try to be the boy, you first need to spell his name right, and secondly, suggest everything George Orwell does is phoney.
Yes, it may be that they trudged up the mountainside. They sail for England on 26 February. I haven’t read ahead, I just can’t help looking into things–digging for clues and scrutinizing the wormhole’s access tubes and nooks and crannies.
There do not seem to be any action photos of the Blairs as they streak down the Atlas on their handmade skis; their teeth sparkling in the blinding sunlight; their hair blown straight back; the stand of trees dead ahead; their miraculous evasive techniques.
So, dave’s not here, eh?
my mother always told me” i before e”…thanks
“be the boy”? no,just trying to borrow his point of view …
GO a phony? an interesting suggestion.I find his diary very true sounding…His political ideas,less so
Some of the comments…”not so much” as we used to say in 2007
The suspense builds to a volcanic crescendo. Taut nerves crackle, arcing like lightning, sounding like bzzt. The camel ride to the donkey terminal for transfer into the higher elevations has not yet been confirmed.
Meanwhile, the Blairs keep a low profile so as to avoid Herr Caulfeild because his name makes their eyes feel funny.
Parallel timelines make it possible to be in two places at once.
Were you anywhere near a radio last night?
Please, stop shirking me.
I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE, I TELL YA!
No. No. Don’t take me back! I can’t! No. No. No. No. No. No. Not, not back there!?!
It’s dark inside this canvas bag they put over my head, George. Like a wormhole that leads to a dead end. They think I’m losing it.
The CIA did some interesting work,on psychiatric patients,back in the 60’s. Even right @ the Royal Victoria Hospital (Montreal Que).
I studied their in 81-83…Nobody seemed to talk about it much…
It had to do with LSD.I think…
Apparently some of them went quite crazy and stayed that way…forever. But of cource they (presumably) were not 100% sane when they went in there…
Anyone been to Montreal? Best smoked meat in NA in my view @ Schwartze’s Delicatessin… (ST Laurent st) Ask for the “fat” brisket.
I miss George too.I bet he has lots of good stuff from his (?) trip to the mountains…
I”me debating whether to change my name (again) to Holden Caulfield,but I don’t want to look like I can’t stick to something,and i’me gonna remember that i/e thing now forever.
Is it true that you said, “It’s funny. All you have to do is say something nobody understands and they’ll do practically anything you want them to?”
If it is true, then why is my eye twitching!?! Is that J. D. Salinger’s laughter I hear? Is it Holden Morrissey Caulfield? Is it even laughter?
The voices in my head tell me that the whole E versus I skit is becoming tedious and threadbare for them even though it vaguely reminds them of Young Frankenstein. The general consensus is that it needs a peppy musical interlude [say, something from Весна священная (Vesna svjaščennaja) arranged for twenty acoustic guitars and a banjo, perhaps]—an extravaganza with lots of back flips and pyrotechnics.
where is he?
Is the diary finished?
Somebody told me that it’s Somerset Maugham’s birthday today. Perhaps George has gone to the party.
This morning I saw forty ducks, several varieties, on a frozen pond. They all had orange feet. There must be a reason for ducks having orange feet but I can’t for the life of me think what it could be.
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Meat and hot sausage so good
And the summer Blues.
One nice thing about nature;theirs usualy a good reason for everything…Why are most lifejackets orange??? I bet its a visibility thing…(for the ducks I mean…copied by us )
Perhaps GO has been called back to London for some new spy advice….
Now we know—The missing pigeons. The jackal. The donkey.—It was predatory ducks.
Yes. When out in the wild, I often hear terrified exclamations of “Watch out for the ducks! They’re trying to sneak up on us!” from many of the other indigenous species of animal and insect with more sensible pigmentation schemes. Ducks have claimed many color-blind victims, however.
Meanwhile, geese are trying to promote their bill color as aesthetically pleasing to a large demographic and the chickens are distancing themselves vociferously, via media-blitz, from web-footed fowl (with repeated reference to their beaks) by claiming the distinction of being the only real poultry. The pigeons have taken an elitist stance.
Outside in the cold distance an English heron is staring-down an enormous stork across a chaotic, shoulder-to-shoulder mass of nattering ibises.
Yes, I’ve been to Montreal. It’s the one and only time I’ve eaten snails. It was in a comfortable and atmospheric little restaurant in the French quarter. Name of it? I don’t know.
It’s lovely to see the storks clapping in their twiggy nests and feeding their young on the chimney tops by the Neusiedlersee Lake on the Pannonia Plain (Hungary, Austria) in the summer months. They eat lots of frogs and seem to have a generally good time.
The following sentence,
It is enormous – English heron would look small beside it,
It was enormous – English heron would have looked small beside it.
Waiting for George is like Waiting for Godot.
To pass the hours
oops, WRONG AGAIN!
the link is
Thank you for the link. Nice contrast.
Meanwhile, clouds fly in formation above a Ground Swell.
I keep worrying momentarily if something is wrong with my google reader… No eggs in all these days?
We’ve had 9 days of Type 0 posts, after a Type 2 post that was a bit addled (confused date, uncharacteristically deplorable grammar). It is indeed worrisome, but there’s still the chance that soon we’ll get a long report about the trip to the mountains.
And, of course, about all those eggs. If GO/EB is gone long enough, and if there’s a rooster in the neighborhood, he’ll come home to baby chicks!
I’m missing my daily egg fix
there is a stork that shows up occasionally in a nearby pond, its legs are so long
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