I think here we only need to have a saloon...

I have been informed that having a cathedral is what makes a city a city in the UK. Or at least in England. I didn't know that. So Grimsby is a town. Heh. Godless bunch that they are. :)

And I note with Sherlock Holmes-like sharpness that Leeds has at least two main one-way streets. Nothing escapes me.

But then, Grimsby is today primarily an Amish enclave, I think. Having driven out the Vikings long ago.

Now there was an interesting war. I must blog about that one day.

Windsor Gothic

In a totally unexpected move which reportedly shocked even the royal household, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge announced today that they would be moving out of London and taking up residence in a modest cottage in a rural area between Grimsby and Wee Grimsby as of this coming Friday.

The couple admitted the cottage was definitely a "fixer-upper" and will require a bit of a lifestyle adjustment from Clarence House, but vowed to have it looking like new before summer is over.

"You won't recognize the place after we've splashed a new coat of white paint on it," beamed the new bride. "My husband is no stranger to hard work," she added.

Speaking of work, when we asked what they intended to live on, they seemed unsure at the moment. Though an experienced military pilot, the prince admitted he had turned up nothing requiring bombing or strafing skills in the Greater Grimsby area. In fact, it appeared Grimsby didn't have much of a military at all, to speak of.

The bride has peripheral experience in the party supply business, and they are now looking at shop space with that in mind, until something else comes along. We wish them all the best and admire their pluck.

The newlyweds do have an automobile, however. "It isn't exactly ours, the young Duke admitted with a wink and a nudge, "but we are optimistic they won't miss it."

"Ear all, see all, say nowt. Eat all, sup all, pay nowt. And if tha does owt fer nowt, allus do it for thissen."

It was my original intention to try to familiarize myself with the main regions of England before I ventured out into the wonderful cities and lovely villages, but I got sidetracked. Some might say I was sucked in by the bright lights of Grimsby. I now return to my original project of exploring regions, and will show more restraint in the future. Once one has experienced the blood-rush exhilaration of Grimsby, though, I'm sure Liverpool and London would have been letdowns anyway. I'm going to trot back up to the Northeast region, also known as Yorkshire and Humberside (the GOOD side of the Hummer, it has been hinted) and continue my original exploration.

[With your permission, I will also sprinkle in some Yorkshire-Speak, along with approximate translations, here and there at inappropriate times in this post, just for a bit of flavor.]

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"A more jammy so and so ah nivver met." (That person is inordinately lucky)

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Yorkshire is simply grand! Oh, my! Indeed, those of you who envision only pudding and terriers are in for a pleasant surprise indeed.

First of all, I present technical specifications, and some very interesting factoids, for the vast masses of Americans reading this and taking notes:

1. Hugicity. Yorkshire is the largest county in England. It is so large, in fact, that it has, over the years, been broken up into more bite-sized morsels by an envious London government who undoubtedly had begun to fear overthrow by the behemoth of the north. Some assert this willy-nilly chopping up of a once-proud giant was done with the consent of the residents, but, really, who's to know? Anyway, none of this is in Wikipedia, so bear with me as I venture into uncharted extrawikipedian waters here. If ONLY I had had someone who has actually BEEN there as a guide. Make no mistake, though, Yorkshire has continued to retain it's identity as an unique cultural region. Except, perhaps, for food, language and politics.

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"A reet ding dong." (A big argument)

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2. Pastoralacity. Yorkshire is probably the greenest part of England. The green belt. The Yorkshire Dales. The castles and ruins. Even many of its cities have dedicated green areas they preserve. Compared to Yorkshire, I get the impression the rest of England is a faded dull bronze. It brings to my movie-oriented American mind visions of Dorothy on the Yellow Brick road and seeing Green Oz in the distance. Shiver me timbers, but I'd love to visit Yorkshire! Too bad Obama put the quaeetus to me passport. Arrrrr! But instead of regaling you with the parts of the movie Yorkshire reminds me of, green-wise if not Kansas-wise, I'll just tell you an apt little story I remember our teacher telling our class in 4th grade....

As I recall, there was this yellow toad wandering around in the forest kinda ticked off because he doesn't want to be yellow. Life would be easier if he were green like the other toads. He'd sure be less visible to predators for one thing. Anyway... This yellow toad bumps into a fairy godmother. He begs her: "Fairy godmother, please make me green like the other toads. I am tired of being so visible to predators and suchlike." The fairy godmother whips out her magic wand and says, "Toadra-capokus! You're green!" The toad looks down and sees that he is green except for his package, which is still yellow. He says to the fairy godmother: "Wait a minute! My pecker's still yellow!" To this the fairy godmother replies: "I don't do johnsons. You will have to go see The Wizard of Oz for that." The toad thanks her and hops off on his way. There is a purple bear wandering about the very same woods. As luck would have it, he also encounters the very same fairy godmother. He implores her: "Fairy godmother, please make me brown like all the other bears. None of the lady bears want to be seen with me on account that the hunters can spot me from a mile off." She, being a nice fairy godmother, takes out her magic wand and says:"Bearus-cadabra! You're brown!" The bear looks down and sees that he is, in fact, brown with the exception of the ole twig and berries. They remain purple. He says: "My Wang is still purple!" She says: "I don't do units, you will have to go see The Wizard of Oz for that." To this the bear replies: "Well that's just dandy, but how the hell do I find The Wizard of Oz?" The fairy godmother answers: "That's easy... Just follow the yellowdick toad!"

I had a very interesting 4th grade teacher. She also taught us to sing ancient civil war songs like "Tenting tonight on the old campground" and "Columbia the gem of the ocean" and made us learn our multiplication tables up to 12 instead of only 9. But that was in the old days before American children started being denied a proper education for reasons that would be un-pc to go into, and which are unrelated to Yorkshire anyway.

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"As 'appy as a pig in't'trough." (Sublimely happy)

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3. Coalacity. Yorkshire, I'm told, (and you must understand when I say "Yorkshire" I am speaking of "Yorkshire and Humberside" as a region, and am not meaning to leave any non-Yorkshire Hummers out; it is just awkward to say all those words every time I mention the region) used to produce a really lot of coal to feed the heavy industries of Northern England. I'm guessing that would be pre-Margaret Thatcher if you are talking about heavy industry and lots of jobs in the north of England. The book didn't say. It only said they don't produce coal that much anymore. Coal has reverted to ever more pastoral green-ness, and the main industries today in the vast region are the production of textiles and engineers. Textiles are mostly grown in the south, while engineers are grown mostly in West Yorkshire. The main cities in West Yorkshire are Bradford and Leeds. The hardy people in this region of the region are rugged individualistic folk, whose rugged individualism often finds expression in a tough style of humor. Yo.

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"Ee'd eat t'oven if t'were buttered." (He seems hungry)

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4. Languagacity. The language of Yorkshire ranges (due to its size) from partly understandable in the south, to completely incomprehensible in the north. One would be wise to hire a Scots interpreter as a guide, just in case. This would be mandatory if you are from West Texas.

5. Recreationacity. One can go hiking along the beautiful seashore. North Yorkshire Moors National Park, Gorgeous beaches. Marvelous rocks. Dinosaurs all dead in most areas. Further inland, don't forget the picturesque villages and breathtaking beauty of Yorkshire Dales, whose streams empty into the Humber. Not much competitive football or cricket or rugby in Yorkshire, that I could find mention of. Turning southward you enter the cradle of cutlery, and well worth the visit. An entire future post is devoted to Sheffield, though, so we'll keep the eating aids discussion to a minimum here.

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"Thas getten reyt bogbellied." (You have put on weight)

6. Historicalacity. History buffs will literally cream with delight in Yorkshire. Roman stuff of all sorts oozing out the ears, still lying on the ground for the taking (if no one seems to be watching.) Constantine the Great. Heady stuff. And that ruler's wife who ran off with his armor-bearer and then became ruler herself. I can hardly sit still as I type this. Then there was the War of the Roses, but I've received complaints about already writing too much about King Dick III in other posts, so I will just remind you that the York in Yorkshire is for the House of York which was a grand city of old to which the word "shire" denotes the land mass ascribed to same city. This was all also before Margaret Thatcher, I hasten to add. A white rose on a blue background. (Not Thatcher. The Standard of the House of York, I mean.)

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I realize that many of you will feel disappointment at the shortness of this post, and, indeed, there is MUCH more that could be told of this beautiful region of England. But to try to tell of all the wonder and lore of Yorkshire and Humberside would fill many books.

The movies always say it best, so I will leave you with the words of the great past California Governor, Conan the Barbarian: "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women."

Perhaps not as apt as I had hoped.

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"So, it's come to this, 'asit? Ah'm not wanted any longer? Ah worked for thi dad. thi grandad and 'is dad an' all. Ah tell thi what lad, if Ah'd known this job weren't going to be permanent, Ah'd nivver 'ahe tekken it on." (So, it's come to this, has it? I'm not wanted any longer? I worked for your dad, your grandad and his dad also. I'll tell you what lad, if I had known this job was not going to be permanent, I would have never taken it on.)

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I wish to acknowledge and thank these two websites, especially the latter, and encourage you to visit both of them.

"The Great Grimsby" by F. Scott Maxgerald

This is one of those posts that started out to prove I know what I'm talking about, but soon fall flat on my face. Later on in the post, I will try to pick myself up and recover my dignity. This is one of those kinds of posts I mentioned before, where I try to write down what I learned in my studies and hope you will pitch in and correct any faulty information.

There are eight traditional regions in England which derive from their geography and history. One of these eight official/unofficial non-political regions of England is called the Northeast region. It is also called Yorkshire and Humberside. Why not just "Northeast", you ask? Well, because (greater) Yorkshire is what pretty much makes up this region in the Northeast, and Yorkshire is next to a river called The Hummer. Humber. Sorry. Or perhaps "Northeast is just not descriptive enough or long enough.

Not to worry though, (I sense your worry) because in this post I am only going to talk about a place called Grimsby. I know, I know - the British ALWAYS use two names. And, if there is a nearby river, you may be sure the city is located ON the river. Often UPON the water. But that is cool. Try to move past it.

Now, there is just one tiny problem. The city of Grimsby, though on the Humber Estuary, is apparently not really in the Northwest Region (Or Yorkshire and Humberside, if you prefer, and you probably do.) "Humberside" apparently means only one side of the Humber. Sigh. Why do you make this so difficult.

Moving on. As I said, or should have said, one of these eight official/unofficial non-political regions of England is called the East Midlands region. Lincolnshire is in the East Midlands region. Grimsby is in Lincolnshire. So far so good.

Grimsby is no exception to the mandatory Two Names rule: it used to be called GREAT Grimsby. This was, one supposes, to clarify it from Small Grimsby (Wee Grimsby? Lesser Grimsby?) which was a smaller town a few miles to the south, and which (I must assume, since no REAL reason was given) people were always going to Teeny Grimsby and thinking they were in Great Grimsby, but they really weren't. I know what you are thinking, and I agree. If the English would simply use one name per city, this alternative naming system would not be necessary.

Before I forget it, there is another reason I am introducing Grimsby today, which has to do with the once-American frozen food company called Bird's Eye. This, along with the rumor that folks have been known to catch a fish or two in that area. But these things will be discussed (if not actually made clear) in a later post. MUCH later, probably.

Due to that uncertainty, please don't hold your breath on the frozen fish story.

Onward and upward. I want you to know how Grimsby got its name, so you can feel connected.

ODIN! ODIN!! ODIN!!!

None of you probably remember a movie called "The Vikings". Perhaps just as well. It was a story about Vikings who sailed to England and captured a prince's bride-to-be to use. ummm. To use as a hostage, I mean. As Vikings do.

The head guy was Kirk Douglas (of course, since he owned the production company) and his nemesis was Tony Curtis who got his hand chopped off by the English for letting Ragna die with a sword in his hand, when the English just wanted him to die and not go to Valhalla. As English are wont to do. Ragna (played by the venerable Ernest Borgnine) was the Viking King and was the father of Kirk Douglas' character. Which was quite a cinemagraphic trick, seeing as how Kirk is two years older than Ernie in real life. Ernest is in his nineties now, so Kirk is, like, maybe, a thousand. Tony's real life wife, the original Psycho shower lady, mother of Jamie Lee, played the captured/used royal bride-to-be (sans big blue sapphire ring) and, christ I can't think of her name right now. Lee. Leigh. Vivian Lee? No. Lee something. JANET LEIGH!!! Maybe that's where Jamie got her middle name -- Janet and Tony couldn't spell. You think? Anyway...

The part of the movie that is relevant to this post (if only to a LESSER degree) is the part when the Vikings get REALLY pissed at Tony Curtis and bury him in the sand at the edge of the water with only his head sticking out and the tide is starting to come in. Remember? Like, "If you are telling the truth, you won't drown, and if you are lying, well, at least you will never be thirsty again." It's night and the clouds are moving past the moon and Tony is very upset because the tide is getting higher and higher around his chin. And finally, in his despair, he cries out to ODIN! again and again. "ODIN! ODIN!! ODIN!!!. Well, by golly -- wouldn't you know it -- just as the water reaches Tony's nose, Odin finishes his supper and hears Tony's cries. Odin blows his breath on the water and blows the tide back. So everyone who comes in the morning knows Tony was telling the truth after all.

Grimsby was settled by Danish Vikings about 800 A.D. or thereabouts (not important to this post, but I think somewhere in that era, though others may have settled it earlier due to it's strategic position. Romans, probably. It's ALWAYS the Romans.) And "Grims" was the head Viking's name that settled it. So it was named after him. "by" is old Danish for "village." In modern Danish it means "town". So the meaning has changed a lot over the years as the Danish language has evolved. The 'GREATER" part we've already discussed. Probably more than we should have. So there you go: Greater Grims-by. Cool, no? Wait, there's more.

Some say (and this is a stone solid fact because I read it in Wikipedia) that this Grims feller was really.................... ODIN!!!!! They do! They DO say that! See, Odin used to like to come down and walk the earth among mortals. On Friday nights, I think. (That part wasn't in Wikipedia, so I'm assuming.)

I've not even got STARTED on this English regions thing, so if you miss my next post, you will be so distraught you'll probably go bury yourself in the sand.