Shulbrede Priory

On a country walk this week in the woods of Surrey, I passed Shulbrede Priory (pictured below).

What Wikipedia currently does not say – but my guidebook did – is that the priory was dissolved in 1536, with the King's Commissioner alleging that 26 whores were found living there.

I did not actually see a sign saying Shulbrede Priory, but it was so marked on the map and I assumed that was right. This was an a priory assumption.

Death

If I want to attend an event which is publicised on Facebook, I sometimes mark myself "Interested" so that I get a reminder notification on the day of the event. At least that's what I like to think, though the conversation below illustrates that I'm perhaps sensitive to the accusation that I do it partly to show off.

A conversation I had with Aditi this week:

Aditi:	I saw you posted on Facebook that you're going to a talk about death.
me:	Oh. Yeah. It was just to remind myself.
Aditi:	Of death?

Facebook sometimes sends me "positive" messages like Thanks for being here, or Enjoy Facebook today! I wonder if someday I might get a notification saying, Remember: our time here is limited. Given that the first reaction of most users, on seeing such a message, will be to log the hell out of Facebook, I think the likelihood is remote.

Shunbun no Hi: Traffic signs

My Shunbun no Hi post for this year celebrates nature and living things – not in the wild, but on traffic signage.

Earlier this month, we moved back to London from the village of Histon and Impington in Cambridgeshire. Here are two examples of signs the likes of which you don't often see in London. The first one, which Anasua pointed out to me when we were out cycling, is a Pegasus crossing; the second, displayed near the village green, is road traffic diagram 551.2 (wild fowl likely to be in road ahead).

America

Sujaan is currently in Chicago for a conference – his first visit to the US. Yesterday we had a phone conversation about Simon and Garfunkel's America, and what a great song it is.

I particularly like the first line of the song's final verse: "Kathy, I'm lost", I said, though I knew she was sleeping. Saha, who has endured many long journeys with me, once said that given the quality of my conversation, if I were in Paul Simon's place, it would more likely be a case of "...though I knew she was pretending."

Another song about America which I like a lot is Sailing to Philadelphia by Mark Knopfler. I have only been to the US once. Flying from London to New York, I remember the moment when I got my first glimpse of the east coast. The passenger in the seat beside me was filling in his landing card. I sneakily looked over his shoulder, desperately hoping his name would be Mason so I could say, "Now hold your head up Mason, see America lies there."

ISS in ♋️

This evening I photographed the International Space Station streaking through the constellation of Cancer (my zodiacal sign, as it happens). The two lighter streaks to the left are airplanes.

The sighting lasted only about 3 minutes: look how much it moved during a 15-second exposure! But for those few minutes, with the sunlight glinting off its solar arrays, it was the brightest "star" in the sky.

This was my first attempt at photographing the ISS. Next time I want to try and capture a longer streak (with a longer exposure), and maybe have some interesting object in the foreground – not just a Cambridgeshire meadow.

If you're interested in spotting the ISS, NASA has a helpful page. Spotting – and especially photographing – the ISS requires a bit of planning, but it's fun. And of course, standing around in the cold setting up the shot helps build character.

Surprise

Given how many days have elapsed since my last post, it may come as a surprise to some of my readers that I have posted at all. That, however, is not the reason for the title of this post.

While reading Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman – a book, by the way, which I thoroughly recommend – I came across the following passage:

A capacity for surprise is an essential aspect of our mental life, and surprise itself is the most sensitive indication of how we understand our world and what we expect from it.

...which has certain parallels with the quote in my sidebar:

The only appropriate state of the mind is surprise.

Speaking of surprises, I was in North Bengal recently, attending a friend's wedding. My friend had kindly arranged for a car to ferry us between the wedding venue and the guest house where we were staying, some 30 km away. The road connecting the two towns ran through the Buxa Tiger Reserve.

The driver who was taking us back to our guest house on the first night was very enthusiastic about showing us some wildlife. He took the more forested road even though, at that time of night, he was not really supposed to. When we were passing a river, he stopped the car and made us get out and listen for the sound of the 'topke shaap' (a snake which I had never heard of before). As it happens, the topke snakes were quiet that night.

As we drove on, he was saying it was too bad we weren't staying in the area much longer. If we travelled this road regularly for a couple of weeks, he said, there was a good chance we would see a wild elephant. Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence and brought the car to a halt. We wondered if we had again entered topke snake territory, but no. Not even 30 metres away, our headlights picked out an elephant quietly crossing the road and disappearing into the jungle.

Real Estate Taboo

Taboo (for those who have not played) is a party game where you have to communicate a random word to your teammates, but without using certain other 'taboo' words.

Last week I picked the word 'full', and as you might expect, 'empty' was one of the taboo words. The ensuing exchange illustrates the joys of playing Taboo with friends who are on the housing market:

me:	The opposite of vacant.
teammate:	Tenanted?

Santa Claus

A conversation I overheard while standing in a Tesco checkout queue:

Father:	Let's see what Santa Claus gets you.
Boy:	There is no Santa Claus.
Father:	Mummy spilled the beans, did she?
Boy:	Yes.
Father:	Well, as long as you don't tell your sister...
Boy:	I won't.
Father:	So. The magic has died for you. Well, it happens to everyone, in the end.

Shirley Temple apparently said, "I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph."