#bill trencher

[poorboypictures]

Rev. William Trencher

Day 3 of 10 of posting alternate versions of my characters since Across the Spider-Verse released

[scotland]

Address to a Haggis

Robert Burns

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o’ need, While thro’ your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi’ perfect sconner, Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither’d rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He’ll make it whissle; An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned, Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer, Gie her a Haggis!

[gwydionmisha]

Address To A Haggis - Robert Burns

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang ‘s my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o’ need, While thro’ your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums. Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi’ perfect sconner, Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither’d rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He’ll make it whissle; An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned, Like taps o’ thrissle. Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer, Gie her a Haggis! Robert Burns from The Canongate Burns: the complete poems and songs of Robert Burns (Canongate, 2001). First printed in The Caledonian Mercury in 1786

[ebony1442]

I wish all of Tumblr a fine and festive Burns Night. If you can, have a wee dram o' the Good Stuff and consider the Haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

-- Robert Burns (January 25, 1759 - July 21, 1796), "Address to a Haggis"

[bonebabbles]

Is it maybe a Trencher? You’d use it for installing pipes or cables.

@veilfireshadows

I think you're onto something. But then that raises the question; what IS the time period of DOTC?

When you're trying to figure out the time period this arc takes place in, you can use two sources; the Ford Model-T the killed Turtle Tail in an authorial statement, OR, the state of vehicle infrastructure at the time.

I like to call them the Model-T Estimate and the Infrastructure Estimate.

Assuming that this is England as a given, then the Ford Model-T reached the height of its popularity in the UK in the 1920s, before it stopped being manufactured in 1927. It notably became popular in the UK later than it did in America. It made cars accessible to common people, so there wasn't dedicated roads and infrastructure dedicated to it yet.

Model-T Estimate = Late 1920s, Pre-War England.

But if you look at the actual state of car infrastructure in DOTC, you will know that there is already a paved road cutting through the White Hart, and Shaded Moss is hit by a car on a multi-lane highway during the journey.

The first highway in the UK was the Preston Bypass in 1958, constructed in Lancashire.

Infrastructure Estimate = Early 1960s, Beetles England.

TRENCHERS

Were invented in the 1949 by Ditch Witch, and they weren't the "hulking beasts" that River is describing. Here's one of the early rideable models;

That's not the modern trencher with a big "spinning" blade, that is a glorified lawnmower. Would still be pretty large to a cat, but still doesn't fit the bill.

But I kept digging. Looks like I've found it, but it's still a little off. It could absolutely be a 1960's C49 ii Ditch Witch.

...but are you seeing the problem? That's not a thing that you ride or a "hulking beast." That's hand-operated.

So I looked further and found this model that I can't identify,

Which could possibly be our beast. But there's a problem with this one too-- the saw's in the back. Not on the front. That's not a "claw," that's a "tail."

But in any case, it would be very odd for them to bring in a super-trencher for what seems to be a relatively small, urban park. Even assuming they have a time machine and can just use a modern trencher, which is a monstrosity that fits the bill perfectly;

Sooooo... anyway yeah. You're probably right that they're some sort of trencher.

Girlies I am not even off the first page

He had seen monsters before, of course—sleeping in the park’s monster camp or growling up and down the Thunderpaths that filled the Twolegplace. But never had he seen any like these: huge, hulking beasts with shining, sharp claws that spun fast enough to turn a cat into pulp. -Riverstar's Home, page 1

...shining, sharp claws that spun fast?

You mean a spike roller?

Farm equipment?

That's... to my knowledge not used in construction? That's for tilling. For softening soil. Why are they destroying a park with farm equipment?

I'm also zooming in on the "Park's Monster Camp." Does that describe a parking lot, or a camping spot

But, probably not right? When they mean "PARK" they mean park like... urban area, right?

“Move!” Arc pushed him hard, Ripple stumbled into a run, across the grass, over the flower bed, following Arc as he leaped onto the narrow wall that ringed the park.

Ok, so that's definitely describe an urban park of some kind. "Narrow wall," the area is enclosed.

[poorboypictures]

Halloween Hoodlums Pt 6

IT'S FINALLY DONE! I'm never doing a holiday themed mini-series again.

[scotianostra]

Address to a Haggis

This poem was written by Burns to celebrate his appreciation of the Haggis. As a result Burns and Haggis have been forever linked.

This is always the first item on the programme of Burns' suppers. The haggis is generally carried in on a large salver at the start of the proceedings.

As it is brought to the table a piper plays a suitable, rousing accompaniment.

One of the invited artistes then recites the poem before the theatrical cutting of the haggis with the ceremonial knife.

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o the puddin'-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o' a grace As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o need, While thro your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; The auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi perfect scunner, Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll make it whissle; An legs an arms, an heads will sned, Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies: But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer, Gie her a Haggis

Address to a Haggis Translation

Good luck to you and your honest, plump face, Great chieftain of the sausage race! Above them all you take your place, Stomach, tripe, or intestines: Well are you worthy of a grace As long as my arm.

The groaning trencher there you fill, Your buttocks like a distant hill, Your pin would help to mend a mill In time of need, While through your pores the dews distill Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour wipe, And cut you up with ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like any ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm steaming, rich!

Then spoon for spoon, the stretch and strive: Devil take the hindmost, on they drive, Till all their well swollen bellies by-and-by Are bent like drums; Then old head of the table, most like to burst, 'The grace!' hums.

Is there that over his French ragout, Or olio that would sicken a sow, Or fricassee would make her vomit With perfect disgust, Looks down with sneering, scornful view On such a dinner?

Poor devil! see him over his trash, As feeble as a withered rush, His thin legs a good whip-lash, His fist a nut; Through bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit.

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his ample fist a blade, He'll make it whistle; And legs, and arms, and heads will cut off Like the heads of thistles.

You powers, who make mankind your care, And dish them out their bill of fare, Old Scotland wants no watery stuff, That splashes in small wooden dishes; But if you wish her grateful prayer, Give her [Scotland] a Haggis!

The  first gif shows a haggis hunt in progress, you can read about the  life of a haggis on the link below. 

http://www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Documents/haggisarticle.pdf

[chaoschaoswriting]

Happy Burns Night!

Here’s Address to a Haggis for you all!

“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o’ need, While thro’ your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi’ perfect sconner, Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither’d rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He’ll make it whissle; An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned, Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer, Gie her a Haggis!”

Robert Burns

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 14 January 1836

7 ¾

11 ¾

No kiss dressed A-‘s back - much better this morning - soft damp small rainy morning and F42° at 9 5 - had Sowden before breakfast was over - gave him Pickells’s lease to read - no objection on that score - but could not give more rent - I asked £42 per annum (he pays £40) - said it was valued at a some shillings more - he gave me SW-‘s valuation of his (Sowden’s) tenant-right = £20.9.0 but having 1 ¾ more under plough than customary SW for this deducts £11.14.0 - even in an arable farm as I told him, not customary to have more than ½ under plough - I would not take less than I asked so we parted good friends and he will give up the farm - sometime with A- her stays hurt her back - undressed her - she took the whalebone out, and I re-did up her blister place -then note and bill from Mr. Bradley the architect = £19.0.6 paid in a/c £11 balance £8.0.6 asked for this or £5 in a/c by the bearer - said I would send over in the afternoon - out - with Mallinson a little while - then with Robert Mann - then with Mark Hepworth at the hill-work above cascade bridge (on this side) - Cordingley, he told me, was married yesterday at Huddersfield church to a man 20 years younger than herself! ----- Parkin of upper Rookes farm - came in at 12 ½ to tell the news to A- and my aunt (in bed) and Marian - staid talking to one or other till Mr. Jubb came at 2 and with me downstairs and with A- and my aunt staid ¾ hour - promised to lend me some of Dr. Holland’s works of physiology - he is opposed to Brodie and Wilson Phillip etc and thinks the life in the blood not in the nerves - Mr. J- said I had managed A-‘s blister very well  - approved the powdering (with hair powder) the damp part as I did this morning 1st time - mentioned William Green’s having worn the skin off him with lying in bed and Marian’s prescription of a fuller’s Earth plaster - very good - should roast the earth in an oven so as to drive off the water of crystallization - it would then fall into an impalpable powder and would mix with cream - Mr. J- did not know whether the cream would harden or not - it might form a very nice plaster - Marian (from some old [nurse?]) recommends white of egg well beaten up into a thick froth on a plate or trencher and then diluted with a large water to wash over and heal A-‘s blister - mentioned this but somehow it passed without any particular answer from Mr. Jubb - he saw my aunt’s legs - they are healing - he said she might be a very different person by and by; and he should not be surprised if she so  far recovered as to be comparatively well for a long time - the fact is, she may love for years - this lying in bed has done wonders - just going out again at about 3 when Booth the mason came and staid till 4 ½ - settled all his bill up to the end of last year - paid balance of £91.11.5 owe him nothing now but for two roods parpoints  and the few days I have had his 2 men and a boy this month - long talk about the Lodge etc - he has already paid above £70 for stone and labour - he will lose by the job - by agreement is to have per ft. for sunk work 10d. for mouldings 1/0 - and they will cost ¼ and 1/6 - says the mason work will cost three hundred pounds   I must manage as well as I can.

 SH:7/ML/E/18/0161

  I proposed the road wall opposite the house being merely faced with lime and parpoints and the back of the wall done with field wall stuff (dry) - said it would do very well - will do it for

Throughs 2/.

Lime 2/.

Labour 5/.

9.0

18in. long (breadth various) 2d. a piece at the delf and 3d. if 2ft. long will be worth 3d. a piece (18in. long) delivered here - should put 8 throughs in a rood 7 yards long by 1 yard high - the through to be laid in lime - the rest dry otherwise reckons 2/6 a rood for lime and 6/ for labour -

.:. wall 2 yards high = 18 per running yard I finding stones, except through - I hope there will be parpoints enough out of the former wall and the rough stuff shall be the wall along the present approach road against the late paddock –

there are about 12 roods to do = 18s.x12 = £10.16.0

suppose 12 roods pond to rise 2ft. against the Lower fish pond= 8 roods at 18/. =              £7.4.0

the cascade bridge arching towards the Lower fish pond 20.0.0

Rock-work and finishing up all around it 20.0.0

shifting stuff (still to be done about Lower fish pond) 20.0.0

Little field or upper cistern to be done at 6d. per yard  10.0.0

garden cottage to be built 100.0.0

garden walling and planting at the back 100.0.0

masking wall opposite the house 250.0.0

Levelling and sinking and dressing up about the house 100.0.0

new road making thro’ the wood 60 yards at £3.   180.0.0

Lodge and moving stuff opposite the gateway 500.0.0

1307.4.0  Enough – Enough

Lead pipe from the upper cistern and ditto from the lower to the house ..... 50.0.0.

wrote the above of today till 5 50 - raining heavily and high wind - very rainy afternoon from between 2 and 3 pm - dressed - dinner at 6 20 - coffee - A- and I sometime with my aunt - then sent A- to wish my father goodnight and I sat with my aunt and read the newspaper till 8 ½ - then ½ hour with my father and Marian - then ½ hour in the north parlour reading the first 33 pages Dr. George Calvert Holland’s  Experimental Inquiry into the Laws of life Edinburgh 1829 the work spoken of by Mr. Jubb this morning and which Frank brought with the letter bag tonight - George wet in going to Elland and staid at home this evening - he paid Mr. Bradley and brought note of thanks back - then with A- till near 10 then till 10 40 entering settling Booth’s account in my Ledger account with him and wrote the last 8 lines -Rainy stormy windy day and evening (except an hour or 2 fair and finish from about 11 am to 2) - F43° now at 10 40 pm.

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

Burns Night is annually celebrated in Scotland on or around January 25. It commemorates the life of the bard (poet) Robert Burns, who was born on January 25, 1759. The day also celebrates Burns' contribution to Scottish culture. His best known work is Auld Lang Syne. Second Image: Haggis, Neeps and Tatties (Haggis, Turnip and Potatoes) Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o the puddin'-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o' a grace As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o need, While thro your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight, An cut you up wi ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; The auld Guidman, maist like to rive, 'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi perfect scunner, Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither'd rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll make it whissle; An legs an arms, an heads will sned, Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies: But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer, Gie her a Haggis

Address to a Haggis Translation

Good luck to you and your honest, plump face, Great chieftain of the sausage race! Above them all you take your place, Stomach, tripe, or intestines: Well are you worthy of a grace As long as my arm.

The groaning trencher there you fill, Your buttocks like a distant hill, Your pin would help to mend a mill In time of need, While through your pores the dews distill Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour wipe, And cut you up with ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like any ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm steaming, rich!

Then spoon for spoon, the stretch and strive: Devil take the hindmost, on they drive, Till all their well swollen bellies by-and-by Are bent like drums; Then old head of the table, most like to burst, 'The grace!' hums.

Is there that over his French ragout, Or olio that would sicken a sow, Or fricassee would make her vomit With perfect disgust, Looks down with sneering, scornful view On such a dinner?

Poor devil! see him over his trash, As feeble as a withered rush, His thin legs a good whip-lash, His fist a nut; Through bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit.

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his ample fist a blade, He'll make it whistle; And legs, and arms, and heads will cut off Like the heads of thistles.

You powers, who make mankind your care, And dish them out their bill of fare, Old Scotland wants no watery stuff, That splashes in small wooden dishes; But if you wish her grateful prayer, Give her [Scotland] a Haggis!

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

post cancelled it's burn's night. fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race! aboon them a’ ye tak your place, painch, tripe, or thairm: weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang ‘s my arm The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o’ need, While thro’ your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums. Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi’ perfect sconner, Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither’d rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He’ll make it whissle; An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned, Like taps o’ thrissle. Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer, Gie her a Haggis!

tell me why it's not even 8am and somebody is playing the bagpipes outside my window

[withwherewithal]

Happy Robbie Burns Night!

While I cannot gather with friends for a feast, I wish you all the best, and would like to share some appropriate poetry from the Scottish Bard himself!

Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o' a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o need,

While thro your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,

An cut you up wi ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi perfect scunner,

Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro bloody flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll make it whissle;

An legs an arms, an heads will sned,

Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies:

But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,

Gie her a Haggis

[elodieunderglass]

I have no idea whether this could be a thing, but is there a way to make cups that SHOULD be eaten by seagulls? If the wildlife eat trash anyway, is there a way to make them part of the recycling process?

(in reference to this post addition)

 Hahaha yeah! That’s a great question! So there’s obviously a difference between eating and digesting things. In a way, wildlife are already huge participators in our waste streams. Animals are pretty dreadful about eating trash. In some ways, this is reasonable - think of scavengers in landfills - it’s perfectly reasonable that animals should eat edible garbage. In other ways, this is really annoying - like how pet dogs can run up very expensive bills from eating plastic wrappers. Animals aren’t always very discerning when they eat garbage. Fish, for example, are currently (ha!) swimming about in the ocean eating microplastic, which isn’t good for them. The larger fish, birds and mammals that eat those fish are accumulating lots of microplastic in their own bodies as a result. The microplastic just sort of sits in their body until they pass it, at which point it re-enters the environment and probably gets eaten by another fish, or until something eats them, and adds the microplastic to their own body. So plenty of indigestible stuff is currently being passed around the global environment. If we want animals to safely eat trash, we want it to be good for them, and break down either in their bellies or when excreted into the environment. So we want it to be both edible by animals, and edible by micro-organisms (biodegradable). (A cup made from PLA plastic won’t do any good to the seagull, but given the perfect conditions, it can be eaten by micro-organisms.)

So if you wanted to design a single-use material that could be eaten by seagulls or animals, you would be designing a type of food packaging made out of food! This would be a perfectly good idea! Ice cream cones, for example, are a type of single-use food packaging that you can eat. So are taco shells... wraps... and, actually, the concept of bread in general makes decent packaging. Medieval Europeans used to eat their food off “trenchers,” or plates made of hard dry bread, which could be eaten later with sauce. In Ethiopian cuisine, a soft delicious bread called injera regularly serves as both plate and utensil. Even the concept of sandwiches was invented to eat a snack more conveniently. To me, this shows that people would probably be quite happy to accept food packaging that they can eat. 

In India, Narayaana Peespaty has famously developed an Edible Spoon made from millet flour. He hopes to address two problems; India’s heavy use of disposable plastic cutlery, and the modern Indian diet’s reliance on rice, a water-intensive crop that has risen in demand against the more humble millet. It’s a very nice idea, and the spoons can either be eaten by human diners or discarded anywhere, where they will happily be eaten by animals or decomposed by microorganisms. Here are the spoons, which come in three flavors to complement different meals:

So it would be perfectly reasonable to design single-use cutlery, plates, and cups that are edible because they’re made of food. They’d be edible by humans as well as by wildlife and micro-organisms. If they weren’t eaten, they would simply biodegrade. The market is clearly hungry for them (ha!) -  Peespaty has stopped accepting orders because he was absolutely inundated with them, and wants to focus instead on teaching local communities to make their own edible cutlery.

But would seagull-edible cups (or plates, or cutlery) be a good solution for the problem in the first place? In the article I linked above, environmentalists are a little ambivalent about edible cutlery (and so am I.) The party line is that the first best way to address the issue of single-use waste is... to not use so many single-use items. Like the corn starch cups, edible spoons use up an awful lot of perfectly good food in their manufacturing process; unlike the cups, you can actually eat the spoons and benefit from them, but they’re still being marketed as potential garbage. Plastic is generated, for basically no additional costs, from the petrochemicals in every barrel of crude oil; plastic is everywhere because it is made as a useful byproduct of oil that societies consume constantly, whereas we already know about the difficulties in increasing our production/distribution/accessibility of farmed food. The edible cutlery is highly processed and require a lot of packaging - to ensure they are actually usable when they arrive at their destinations, Peespaty’s company packages the cutlery in styrofoam. “Food waste” is generally thought to be a larger problem than “garbage,” so there are a lot of tricky things to balance here.

The three Rs for reducing consumption and waste are Reduce, Reuse and Recycle. You’re supposed to do them in that order; while Recycling (or biodegrading) is great and amazing, it’s preferable to Reduce and Reuse first. So this is kind of a sticky point: as clever as edible disposable items are, they are still continuing to use resources just to generate more garbage. Some solutions to using disposable cutlery include convincing people to carry a set of personal “travel cutlery” in their bag, but nobody really wants to do that. Obviously, disposable single-use items fill a huge need! Single-use items are convenient, hygienic, and clean; they support people with disabilities, they can be carried on your way to the next place, they don’t need to be cleaned between uses, you don’t need to make room in your purse. I’m definitely not denying those needs. But it isn’t exactly in the spirit of Reduce/Reuse/Recycle, and people are going to point that out. 

So it’s one of those things where you have to pick the outcome which meets the most needs, and accept that it cannot meet all needs, so it WILL be slightly Problematic (TM). But despite being a bit awkward in the whole “creating a new market of future garbage” concept, edible garbage isn’t such bad garbage as other garbage. Heck, it would certainly keep urban areas cleaner if seagulls could simply eat up all the litter!

Personally, I’m slightly more in favor of disposable single-use goods made from bamboo than food. Bamboo is highly renewable, it grows on degraded ground, and biodegrades in the environment. It sequesters a huge amount of carbon dioxide, more than trees (but most people dispose of it in ways like burning or rotting in landfill, which release the carbon and other gases right back into the environment.) Ideally everyone would chuck it in a composter, so that the carbon sequestered by the bamboo would not be re-released, and you’d get delicious compost too. I personally just don’t love the idea of processing food just to make more garbage. It’s why I’m not a massive fan of PLA plastics, even though I do like them and would definitely use them for some things. 

We’d also want to make sure that we weren’t encouraging wildlife to interact with people in unsafe ways in their quest to eat the edible packaging. I recognize that it will be impossible to prevent a seagull from eating whatever it wants. But I have to put this in there, because otherwise someone will believe, like, that I am endorsing aggressively going into the woods and feeding millet-spoons to wild bears, and they will be righteous and tiresome at me. “ELODIE HOW DARE YOU CAUSE SUCH HARM TO BEARS.” So let’s be clear about this: don’t feed spoons to bears!!!! Even if you do have the right to arm bears. 

So yes! To answer your question, there IS a way to make cups to be eaten by seagulls! It is not unreasonable at all. 

[thepreppyfox]

Address to the Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftan o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace

As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber mead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut you up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owere his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect scunner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratfu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

[sebbytrash]

Happy Burns Night Kale,

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm :

Weel are ye wordy o'a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o'need,

While thro' your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead. His knife see rustic

Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like ony ditch; And then,

O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin', rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:

Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad make her spew

Wi' perfect sconner, Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view

On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as wither'd rash,

His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;

His nieve a nit; Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread.

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll mak it whissle;

An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,

Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o' fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer

Gie her a haggis!

‐-----

Thank you darling!

[techresearchandupdates]

Smart Meter Market Share, Insights, Trends And Global Outlook to 2022-2026

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A smart meter is a gadget that records how much electricity, gas, and water is utilized. The smart meter communicates information to the supplier for monitoring and invoicing. Smart meters often monitor energy every hour or more frequently, and report at least once a day. It has a display panel that shows real-time energy consumption and provides estimated costs.

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Market Trends & Drivers:

The global smart meter market is predicted to rise in response to the rising demand for precise billing and increased initiatives toward energy saving. The results from a smart meter are digitally sent to the energy supplier, resulting in more accurate energy bills. Smart meters' adoption is hampered by concerns about data security and privacy, as smart meters are also utilized as surveillance instruments. The comprehensive metering scheme is projected to have an impact on the industry's operational costs.

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Smart Energy Meters

Smart Water Meters

Smart Gas Meters

Industrial

Commercial

Residential

Automatic Meter Reading (AMR)

Advanced Metering Infrastructure (AMI)

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