…probably shouldn’t throw stones either.
On a side note, I read today that the original proverb can be traced back to Chaucer’s “Troilus & Criseyde”: Who that hath an hed of verre, Fro cast of stones war hym in the werre!
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Hmm, I think I may have something vaguely intriguing for you today. Be warned, though, that this post is about postage stamps.
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Well, diligent reader, let me begin: many of the stamps I have accumulated over the years have been passed on by the few thoughtful folk aware of my philatelic predilection. And so, every now and then one of these kind souls will hand over a few months’ or years’ worth of stamps.
Anyhow, while sifting through one of these packets the other day, I noticed a particularly handsome issue from Éire (Ireland). Dated 1991, the stamp’s subject was a small fishing boat, and the text “LOINGEAS IASCAIREACHTA” was printed along the bottom of the frame (What does that mean? I don’t know). But as the sifting continued, I noticed another copy of the stamp. And another, and — how about that? — yet another.
What caught my interest was not, however, the pretty pictures of boats (although that, typically, is enough to catch my interest); on these speciments, the original sender of the letters had actually written on the inside of the envelope. My leftovers, therefore, contained not only the stamps, but also scraps of correspondence. Here’s an image of the fronts & backs — take a look:
This batch was the first group I noticed, as the typewritten message had bled through the paper envelope, and was clearly visible on the other side. There’s also another batch, written not in type but in cursive hand. These I did not notice until after collecting the typewritten samples — at which point I started examining the backs of the stamps too:
Interesting, hmm? The appeal here, I suppose, is really in the “collected stamp as found art object.” The fragments of text, especially in the first (typewritten) example, are almost poetic. Taken as a whole, this lot is, to me, a curiosity. Why would the sender write directly on the envelope? Is it a paper-saving measure? Why are some typed and others written long- hand? Many more questions too, but of course I’m left guessing. Which is part of the fun, after all.
It’s been awhile — I almost forget how to use this “blog” thing…
Anyhow, the other day we went driving out behind a friend’s place. There are some nice trails running through the bush, most of which are wide enough for the old Ford Bronco. Of course, it didn’t take long for the mud to get the best of us, and subsequent efforts at locomotion were varied in both method and efficiency. Pushing proved futile,
and the mule couldn’t budge the Bronco, either.
We ended up using an old bulldozer, which dragged the truck out without any trouble (even though somebody left it in gear). The only thing was that it took about half an hour for the silly thing to crawl all the way from the barn, through the field, and into the bush. Suddenly the mild weather we’ve been having didn’t seem so mild after all…
The dozer proved useful later on when the truck appeared to run out of gears — I ended up walking back to the house as the truck (somewhat ingnobled by the process) was towed back to the barn. Being rather clueless as far as engines go, I had no idea what the problem was — but one fellow noted that “it smells like burnt clutch.” I’m afraid that I’m somewhat lacking in those sorts of sensitivites.
Hello!
What you’ll find here are sundry thoughts about the quiet life, along with brief notes on whatever I’m dredging up from the Archive this week. While the updates here are sporadic, I assure you that they’re always kindly — and you can take solace in the archives or blogroll (below) on a rainy day.
Happy reading!
