October 15, 2018, 04:54:07 PM

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Messages - Eli_Freysson

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General Discussion / Re: Politics and other ailments of the real world
« on: October 13, 2018, 10:06:41 PM »
Yeah the thought police are alive and well in the UK.

Is this kind of stuff becoming typical in the UK, or are these outlier cases that make the news but don't actually represent a trend?

General Discussion / Re: Politics and other ailments of the real world
« on: October 13, 2018, 10:49:51 AM »
I've never heard of that guy or the events mentioned :o

To clarify, Jonathan Pie is a character used by a British comedian to comment on serious issues.

General Discussion / Re: Politics and other ailments of the real world
« on: October 13, 2018, 08:44:25 AM »
So... you Brits on this forum...

I just watched Jonathan Pie go on one of his rants, this time about UK law enforcement getting involved with people causing offence on the internet. He mentioned a teenager who got jailed for three months for making an inappropriate joke. He also mentioned another one who got fitted with electronic tag for posting rap lyrics. He also also mentioned that the police are asking people to report offensive posts. Not illegal ones. Just offensive ones.

Could someone please tell me he's mistaken? Because this is some serious bizarro police state stuff.

I also really want to see them.
I went to Iceland in February but it was cloudy the whole 3 days >:(

Yeah, that's why I cringe a bit when people apparently come over here for the sole purpose of seeing the lights. They aren't a nightly occurrence to begin with, and yeah: Clouds.

Unrelated to all that: I just noticed the northern lights for the first time this fall. They're quite faint, but with a bit of luck they'll be more visible in a couple of hours.

Writers' Corner / Re: Describing accents...
« on: October 10, 2018, 01:20:43 PM »
I found reading Dracula interesting due to its historical significance, but it had several flaws and a major one was Stoker's take on accents and dialects. Van Helsing's broken English got really obnoxious after a while. And one chapter features a very old man speaking some dialect from circa 1820, and good God what a chore that was to read.

Their specifications are:

"We only accept Word doc or rtf files. Do not send PDF files or other formats or they will be deleted."

Okay... what? Does anyone here understand formatting better than me?

Because I'm trying to submit a manuscript to a publishing site. I've set the manuscript up exactly according to their specifications. And yet I'm being told that my file is too big for their submission form, even though the word length is far from their maximum. The file size cannot be bigger than 1024 KB. My file is 1038.

What is going on here?

Thanks for describing everything, Eli.
When my gran died I didn't go to the funeral, as in Portugal that happens the day after

Wow. That feels really rushed.

Yeah, I guess we take our time with it over here. Funerals are a very orderly, planned-out affair, and a few people even travelled from abroad to attend this one, including one of my sisters.

I can only imagine how my view of the world might have been warped to find an ancient sword where none should be as a child.

We both know damn well that girl is in for some wild urban fantasy stuff in the coming years. The spirit of an ancient shieldmaiden is going to recruit her to fight trolls and svartálfar.

(Damn it. Just gave myself yet another story idea.)

What Bea said, Gem. Also, thank you. Also also, that's a fine quote.

I just got back from the funeral itself. It was a very nice ceremony. Húsavík is a rather boring little town, but it has quite a pretty church, built in 1907. My grandmother planned her own funeral some years ago; the choice of music and psalms, and the priest gave quite a good summary of her life. The sons-in-law carried the casket into the hearse, and it led a convey to the cemetery. There I and seven other grandkids carried her the final distance to the grave. It was nice to be able to do this final service. The wind was bitingly cold and no one stayed for long.

After that we went to the convention centre for the erfidrykkja. It literally translates to "inheritance drinking", because matters of inheritance used to be discussed over drinks. Today it's been downgraded to a social occasion with cake and coffee.

I'm rewatching old Simpsons episodes and I just had to share this:

On the sword being in a lake, I do remember something about pre-Roman Europe having a tradition of offering fine swords up to the spirits of a lake. Apparently that is where the Lady of the Lake in Arthurian legend comes from. People did use to believe in a world that was very much alive with all sorts of entities; spirits, trolls, alvar, gods and ghosts, and none of which you wanted angry with you.

So I just got back from kistulagning, which is to say the final preparations before my grandmother's funeral tomorrow.

Her closest kin gathered in a a room in the retirement home, and given the size of my mother's family "closest" translated to fifty people, even with some not in attendance. The priest in charge of the funeral was quite good and used among other things a phrase my mother has been using since the passing. "The good summerland."

We gathered in a chapel that held the body in an open casket. The priest spoke some more, and then we each took turns walking over to the casket and making the sign of the cross.

I've only been to a handful of funerals in my life, and this is the one I've been most involved with. I've never attended kistulagning before. I've also never actually seen a dead body before, born and bred into pampered modern society that I am, and with open casket funerals not being a thing here.

It was interesting to see a familiar human face with that spark missing. Just an abandoned vessel.

Anyway, the casket was sealed, and some of us joined it on its ride to the church. It will wait before the altar until tomorrow, and the priest and the funeral manager discussed the proceedings. I will be one of the pall bearers from the hearse to the grave.

And tomorrow we wrap this thing up.

I had a little talk with my sister earlier, and it brought back memories of my grandparent's old place, and the way it seemed to perpetually smell of fresh baked pastries.

How did that survive 1500 years in a lake??

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