Mildly interesting and amusing, although the fundamental conceit, that the detective is physically blind, wears: what is clever in the first couple of stories becomes (I found; others disagree, obviously) cloying as one goes on in the series. Ernest Bramah doesn't need me to defend his authorial eminence; and I've been enjoying my first acquaintance with his Kung Ho stories, not having progressed to the Kai Lung ones. I let myself get too cold this morning and so had to turn on the heater and have felt rather out of sorts all day long: I've taken two naps, even. Am supposed to present myself at the blood-letting office in the morning at 0730: I hope I am not at last coming down with the season's first cold, if only because my understanding is that one is meant to presume that such a trivial thing is in fact the onset of the plague. I'd much rather get this business out of the way.
After supper. I'm going to put part of letter X from Kung Ho's Mirror here but must dowload the text before I can copy such a lengthy excerpt etc etc so I think that this must be a post for tomorrow. 'Come behold; it is raining again as usual; let us go out and kill somebody'-- that is a real jest at the expense of the English in... which author? Voltaire, perhaps? I cannot recall his name, Gargantua and Pantagruel's creator? it doesn't strike me as an invention of Bramah's. Now that I've typed it out, the Internet is searchable: nothing is returned except Bramah, and nothing in any French version I've come up with. 'As usual' become 'comme d'habitude', is the original version of the famous Sinatra's My Way, the anthem of contemporary America; I noticed Althouse for some reason prosing on about this either this morning or yesterday.
There are several pages of interesting and thought-provoking essays, posts, and articles today on the Internet that quite frankly I'll probably never get around to reading unless after supper I'm suddenly overcome by an access of energy.
I read, prayed I hope, first Vespers of the great feast of Our Lord's Ascension, using the hymn Iesu nostra redemptio in place of what is in the printed Office, Salutis humanae sator; so far as I can tell Salutis humanae sator is the 'classicized version' of Iesu nostra redemptio imposed on the Liturgy by Pope Urban VIII in the last quarter of the 16th century. Popes had better to learn from his example and refrain from unjustifiable messing about with things liturgical than to take him as an exemplar of liturgical 'reform'.