Mr Pendlebury Takes a Trip

Kato: 3rd Jul 2006 - 19:15 GMT

I've allowed my master to respond. I would love the book, he's one of my heroes but don't send the funny stamps. Pendlebury was a chief archaeologist researching Knossos and other important sites on Crete. He had local knowledge and when the 2nd World War got near to Crete he joined British Intelligence. He was insensed by German Paratroopers invading Crete. He left Irakleon (on 20th/21st June 1941) with 2 Cretans by the Western Gate. Two hours later he fell badly injured by machine gun fire. He was taken in by a local woman and treated by a German doctor, he could have survived. The next morning, three SS men arrived, took him outside and shot him. His remains lay in Row 13A, Souda Bay Commonwealth Cemetery. His knowledge of routes over the mountain ranges were a great help to the freedom fighters (Cretan & British).

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 4th Jul 2006 - 16:32 GMT

Sorry Kato/mum/dad, but you have to take the acid too. Thems my terms.

In the foreword it says that Pendlebury was shot by a German parachutist. Is the cemetary where his remains are one that we visited with you? Dad, do you have any photos of it? If so, post 'em.

joey: 4th Jul 2006 - 20:04 GMT

do you think some of the hellenistic designs shown in photo two are appropriated into lucid circus flash content? what goes around, comes around.

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 5th Jul 2006 - 19:41 GMT

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 5th Jul 2006 - 19:43 GMT

Some pictures of Souda, Crete (Greece) and the plucky Mr Pendlebury's final resting place, courtesy of Kato.

EvilGentleman: 5th Jul 2006 - 19:56 GMT

Well, that has to be one of the more bizarre finds of your year. Groovy and far out, man.

EvilGentleman: 5th Jul 2006 - 20:14 GMT

Just imagine if you had sent it to your parents without flipping through it.

The Scenario:
Catherine calls Mum

Catherine: Hello, Mum.
Mum: Bloody Hell, they won't stop.
Catherine: What won't stop?
Mum: The dancing shillings, of course.
Catherine: Dancing shillings? What are you going on about?
Mum: These ancient vases have dancing shillings on them.
Catherine: Um... Right. May I speak to Father, please?
Mum: He's busy chasing the blue giraffes off of the glaciers. He said the bloody beasts never paid for his taxi, and that was why there were giant green bugs crawling out of the VCR.
Catherine: Um... I have to go now. Love you, Mum.

Click!

End of scene

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 5th Jul 2006 - 20:49 GMT

Oh, Evil G, that's pretty much the content of many of our conversations, usually thanks to red wine. The reason I've never done hallucinogens/psychadelics (even through 5 years of art school) is because my Mum told me about a bad trip she had. It had something to do with 'Coronation Street,' a long-running British TV show. Frankly, it sounded terrifing and I didn't want to risk it. So thanks Mum, your wisdom in narcotics has kept be straight-edge. Now pass the cognac.

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 5th Jul 2006 - 21:05 GMT

Actually, here's a better scene:
Early hours of New Year's Day, circa 1988. Penfold mansion. Hildenborough, Kent. Talking Heads is blaring throughout the house. Feet pound on the stairs. The door to slams open.
"Turn that bloody racket down!" Screams the teenage Catherine at her parents. They laugh and call her a boring old fart. She goes back to bed, vowing to leave home as soon as possible, so she can finally have a quiet life.
(But, gentle reader, I wouldn't have had my childhood any other way.)

EvilGentleman: 5th Jul 2006 - 22:51 GMT

Yikes! Coronation Street is scary enough to watch without Mr. Cid around.

And as far as having hip parents goes, I remember playing "Balls to the Wall" by Accept extremely loud, and my mother barges into my room and yells at me to turn it up! Later, when I was attempting to move from Nova Scotia to Montreal in 1988, I had to hurry to catch the ferry from Digby, NS to Saint John, NB because my father would not let me go until he had finished making copies of my Twisted Sister tapes.

But now at 37, life is different. I usually listen to more techno stuff than my teenaged kids do, and I love to cruise while blasting the Black-Eyed Peas. And those kids did not even know about Daddy Yankee until they heard it from me. And they call themselves teenagers? HAH! Mind you, I will listen to anything from Bach to Glenn Miller to Johnny Cash to Guns 'n' Roses to Benny Benassi. Just do not play gospel or anything resembling Hank Williams around me. I have my limits.

PS - Peter, I have yet to hear from my friends who saw Slayer last night, but I bet they loved it.

Kato: 6th Jul 2006 - 14:49 GMT

Just to put the record straight, it was a joint and the programme was Dr. Marcus Selby? Welby? The funniest thing I have ever seen and you forgot the 3 pints of milk I consumed when I hate the stuff. Never touched acid after seeing a friend hide under my table because the yellow demons were after her. Didn't look like fun to me.

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 7th Jul 2006 - 13:57 GMT

Mum/Kato, sorry for getting the story so bady mangled. I must have been high.

EvilGent, I haven't heard of Daddy Yankee. I shall investigate.

Catherine Penfold-Waxman: 2nd Apr 2007 - 16:50 GMT

1. Astoria, Queens.
2. It wasn't acid, it was advertising for a design firm
3. $15 a tab