Some weeks ago, perhaps months ago, BH thought to replace a plant of ours called a Christmas cactus, a plant which had adorned our television room for many years, having been translated, it seems, from the parental-in-law home in Devon. A type of plant which we once had occasion to discuss in a café in Savoy. The proprietress there was very patient with these strange foreigners, dropped out of nowhere, especially considering that she was eager to give her attention to a (blue collar) gentleman visitor waiting in the kitchen. It is also possible that she was actually interested in the way that these cacti were not the same in Savoy as they were in Surrey and I recall some talk about whether they flowered once or twice a year. In any event, she sent us off down the road to a place which could do us a raclette, the fish and chips of the area in question. The first time that we had had it, so we were very impressed. Quite forgot that it was just a fancy version of cheese on toast.
Anyway, many years later, many flowerings later, our cactus was retired in favour of the begonia snapped above. It has done very well. Rather impressive.
Clock above, which has been noticed before, corner of watercolour right, by one Archie Sanderson. The clock came from a kitchen shop in our Upper High Street, gone some years, and was a product of the people at reference 4, but I cannot, this afternoon, find the previous notice. Very frustrating. Nor can I find any trace at all of this Sanderson - this despite being convinced I had no trouble at all last time I looked.
From all of which I now move on. In a post earlier today (reference 1), I referenced a book, L'Ogre, which I read nearly a decade ago at noticed at reference 2.
Over lunch, I was moved to turn it up, to find in it a dedication to Job, at least a quotation from Job, Chapter VII, verse 19. In the French this reads: 'Quand cesseras-tu de me regarder'. But in the proper, seventeenth Anglo-Saxon it reads: 'How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?'. With the French capturing the spirit of the thing, but being far from the word. Digging further in the Authorised Version, I am reminded that the Book of Job is indeed a very rum book. A book which could provide meat and drink for many sermons and for many classes in schools - at which point I remember that few schools have time for this sort of thing these days. A book which I had thought I might have mentioned in the past, but if I have, I fail to find any such mentions this afternoon.
But perhaps I lack faith. On the search key 'Quand cesseras-tu de me regarder', Bing turns up all kinds of stuff. For example reference 3, which puts me right. Perhaps I need to check the original Hebrew?
I shall now retire to the perusal of the proper, Anglo-Saxon version. As authorised by his Majesty, King James I.
PS: a little later, I searched the blog archive about the clock and turned up reference 5. No idea how it escaped before: all the search keys which I thought I had used are there. Things like 'Sweden'. While reference 6 includes one Archibald Sanderson, 1900-1971, whose dates fit and whose paintings look about right. Not only that, they share elements with the woodcuts of my woodcutting uncle, an almost exact contemporary. So, all things considered, it seems quite likely that they knew each other. Again, no idea how he escaped earlier today.
Reference 2: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2012/11/logre.html.
Reference 3: https://saintebible.com/job/7-19.htm.
Reference 4: http://www.bengtekdesign.com/.
Reference 5: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/04/tuesdays-puzzle.html.
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