Monday, December 24, 2012
Archaeological drinking. I have recently got back into Indiana Jones – largely because I purchased a paperback of this book from Savers, The Sign and the Seal by Graham Hancock, and have become fascinated with the Grail and Ark legends again.
I am really looking forward to the kind of crappy conspiracy-theory yarn I remember from Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. Jonathan Kirsch of the Los Angeles Times described the book as "part travelogue, part true-adventure, part mystery-thriller. But mostly it's a whacking big dose of amateur scholarship alloyed with a fervid imagination and the kind of narrative that comes in handy when telling ghost stories around a campfire."
Edward Ullendorff, a former professor of Ethiopian Studies at the University of London, said he "wasted a lot of time reading it." Ha! Ha!
This week I rewatched Raiders of the Lost Ark and was struck by what a well-constructed adventure story it is: part sincere sense of wonder at the power of the past; part matinee derring-do; part screwball banter between Indy, Marion, Sallah and Belloq.
However, I still maintain that Temple of Doom is non-canon.
Anyway, so this was my frame of mind as I followed a trail of clues in a dusty library in my bedroom. I had heard vague stories about a mysterious treasure that lurked in a secret compartment behind one of the bookshelves.
It was some hard archaeological digging to remove the rubble of cheap shoes that obstructed the entrance to this fabled shelf. Only by throwing the shoes into my wardrobe and forcing the sliding door open could I reveal the bookshelf.
Ah, yes! Here it was, largely untouched since 2005, when I moved into this room and used the shelving in my wardrobe for books. I don't think I've looked at these ancient artefacts in the interim period.
Carefully I began to remove the fragile books, stacking them on my bed, always wary for the booby-traps with which the ancients guard their treasures. Finally, I dislodged a large shoebox guarding the entrance to the secret compartment. What did I see? Wonderful things!
I actually excavated the blue curaçao back in 2008 to make the ill-fated icing for my Terminator head cake. But I was totally thrilled to see the rest of this precious hoard. Aperol! Vermouth (aka MARTINIS)! Blue curacao (FRUIT TINGLES)! Triple sec! Creme de cacao! Baileys!
Look how well-preserved it all is, like the leavings of a cocktail party one has in one's early twenties when everyone is instructed to bring a bottle. This belongs in a museum. But as the next best thing, it belongs in a glass!
I used a soft-bristled brush to remove the dust, and put the bottles on my drinks shelf along with the whipped cream-flavoured vodka. I plan to make several cocktails tonight to drink while watching Carols by Candlelight and tweeting disparagingly about the guest performers.
Merry Christmas!
I am really looking forward to the kind of crappy conspiracy-theory yarn I remember from Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. Jonathan Kirsch of the Los Angeles Times described the book as "part travelogue, part true-adventure, part mystery-thriller. But mostly it's a whacking big dose of amateur scholarship alloyed with a fervid imagination and the kind of narrative that comes in handy when telling ghost stories around a campfire."
Edward Ullendorff, a former professor of Ethiopian Studies at the University of London, said he "wasted a lot of time reading it." Ha! Ha!
This week I rewatched Raiders of the Lost Ark and was struck by what a well-constructed adventure story it is: part sincere sense of wonder at the power of the past; part matinee derring-do; part screwball banter between Indy, Marion, Sallah and Belloq.
However, I still maintain that Temple of Doom is non-canon.
Anyway, so this was my frame of mind as I followed a trail of clues in a dusty library in my bedroom. I had heard vague stories about a mysterious treasure that lurked in a secret compartment behind one of the bookshelves.
It was some hard archaeological digging to remove the rubble of cheap shoes that obstructed the entrance to this fabled shelf. Only by throwing the shoes into my wardrobe and forcing the sliding door open could I reveal the bookshelf.
Ah, yes! Here it was, largely untouched since 2005, when I moved into this room and used the shelving in my wardrobe for books. I don't think I've looked at these ancient artefacts in the interim period.
Carefully I began to remove the fragile books, stacking them on my bed, always wary for the booby-traps with which the ancients guard their treasures. Finally, I dislodged a large shoebox guarding the entrance to the secret compartment. What did I see? Wonderful things!
I actually excavated the blue curaçao back in 2008 to make the ill-fated icing for my Terminator head cake. But I was totally thrilled to see the rest of this precious hoard. Aperol! Vermouth (aka MARTINIS)! Blue curacao (FRUIT TINGLES)! Triple sec! Creme de cacao! Baileys!
Look how well-preserved it all is, like the leavings of a cocktail party one has in one's early twenties when everyone is instructed to bring a bottle. This belongs in a museum. But as the next best thing, it belongs in a glass!
I used a soft-bristled brush to remove the dust, and put the bottles on my drinks shelf along with the whipped cream-flavoured vodka. I plan to make several cocktails tonight to drink while watching Carols by Candlelight and tweeting disparagingly about the guest performers.
Merry Christmas!
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