Too tired to move, too tired to leave

[sovay]

So first I re-read George Eliot's Silas Marner (1861) and then I rewatched Christine Edzard's Little Dorrit (1987) and was reminded that I never managed to locate my own copy of Charles Dickens' Little Dorrit (1857) and started re-reading A Tale of Two Cities (1859) instead; it is not that everything is very nineteenth-century right now, everything is very twenty-first-century, that's the problem, really, but nonetheless. I would like to have the time to write about anything. Or think. That would be fun, too.

[edit] Edging briefly into the twentieth century, I watched Donald Pleasance as a dark-cowled drowning spirit in Lonely Water (1973), a delightful ninety-second horror film in the guise of public information which I can only hope jumpstarted at least one career in weird fiction in among its audience's trauma. I had been hearing about it for years in a sort of legendary way. Thanks, COI.

Comments

[ethelmay]

The exact meaning of "once removed" was something my father pounded into my head more than once over the years. It finally took. It so happened that he was very good friends with one of his second cousins (basically being cousins was the reason they met, not why they were such good friends). His cousin's wife became one of my mother's best friends, and the two families lived near each other for a number of years and were in and out of each other's houses a good deal. That was before my time, but I knew them as people we saw at Thanksgiving and occasionally at other times. So I went from having to have it explained (when I was pretty young) that they were called Aunt A and Uncle B by courtesy, but they were really cousins, to having to have it explained (when I was a bit older, and several more times over the years) that Uncle B was my father's second cousin and his kids were my third cousins, but Uncle B and I were second cousins once removed. And Dad found the easiest way to explain the exact relationship between himself and Uncle B was to say "Our grandmothers were sisters." So sovay's grandmother and Bel were like Dad and Uncle B, and sovay is at the level of my kids to Uncle B. Have some pipeweed.

[minoanmiss]

Bwee. :) lights your pipe for you