The Ascent of Gran
Concerning grandmother's footsteps; Harris's antelope squirrel; why I find writing so difficult (part 1 of 643); and whether or not Van Eyck thought he could paint.
Stairway to Heaven
When I was little, one of my grandmothers lived in a bungalow, and the other lived in a house, with a staircase. And one day, I remember one of my parents - I don't remember which - casually saying that this was sensible on the part of bungalow-Gran, as it meant she would be able to carry on living there even when she was very old. (It must, by the way, be one of the strange hazards of being a parent that, while the vast majority of everything you say to your kids, especially concerning teeth-brushing and room-tidying, is instantly forgotten; every so often you'll say something utterly unremarkable which your kid will NEVER FORGET.)
In this case, I think the reason it made such a big hit with me was it was the first time it had ever occurred to me that old people could get even older. I knew about death, and I knew, without really believing it, that I would be a grown up one day, and my parents would get old. But this idea that either of my grans were not yet as old as they were ever going to be - as old, indeed, as it was possible to get - was completely new.
And I remember having two distinct reactions to the stairs thing: on the one hand, following my parent's lead, I too solemnly commended bungalow-Gran's foresight and prudence. But, at the same time, I secretly rather admired stairs-Gran's daredevil recklessness - her apparent refusal, not that I would have put it this way at the time, to go gentle into that good night.
Stairs-Gran would at the time, I think, have been about 65.
Solution to Hybrid Vigour puzzle
With which is incorporated:
Commentary Box, on:
I asked you to use the face-up tiles to discover which two animals are on the face-down tile.
This time, let’s start with the solution, and then do the winners and analysis. So:
…because:
…Simple as that. Childishly easy, really. An absolute walk in the park.
Now, although I have to admit to a certain sneaking pleasure in coming up with a puzzle that went unsolved for days rather than the usual hours (or sometimes minutes); the fact is that if a group of solvers like the ones I’m lucky enough to have in the comments section took a week to crack it, it’s too hard. Or rather - because I think the basic idea is good - not neatly enough clued. There should have been (and indeed will be, when I revise it) a hint to steer you towards the scientific names, otherwise it’s a bit too ‘guess what I’m thinking’. Also, perhaps the framing was a bit off. In an earlier version, I told a story about finding the tiles at the back of a cupboard, and adapting them into a puzzle - this version had the species-specific words written in sharpie on the cards. I abandoned this because 1) it seemed too easy (ha!) 2) it looked a bit ugly, and 3) to be really pleasing it needed all the species modifiers to have two words, so that eg ‘white’ could go above the spider, and ‘cheeked’ above the monkey. But I think it would have led more naturally to the solution.
(Nor did I help myself with the stupid ‘Lenca’ mishap, about which I can hardly bear to talk, so in explanation let me just say the words 'clipping mask’ and ‘clueless dolt’ and leave it at that.)
Still, it was solvable, and therefore- such is your calibre- it was solved. And if you need someone to guess what you are thinking, who better than Martin the Hypnotist? (Well, Martin the Mind-Reader, yes, I know, but it’s close enough.) An impressive way to join the leader-board, with first place for the hardest puzzle yet.
HBB preserved a dignified silence for over a week, to the point that it genuinely occurred to me to wonder if I’d embarrassed her with my praise / teasing last time, but eventually arrived to explain all and claim the second place points.
And can I just say how much I loved reading the solving process, alternative solutions, critiques, appreciation and eventually even poetry in the comment section. I really want to quote some here, but I won’t, because I’m a little worried that perhaps the puzzle sections in this newsletter are swelling up and may be annoying people who don’t care about puzzles and signed up for jokes and too many animals. For the same reason, I won’t set a new one this edition, but I will in the next.
In fact, now that I mention it…
As I say, I sometimes wonder whether, since The Researcher’s First Murder and my new puzzle-setting obsession, this newsletter has slightly become two newsletters fighting in a bag; and if so, whether that bothers people who signed up for either one of the two things, and find they have to wade through the other. Shall we find out?
Beyond the great divide, I enjoy a lovely old moan about how difficult I find writing, especially at the particular stage I’m at with a project right now; attempt to find a couple of painters who seemed to find painting just as hard, and accidentally discover one of them might not have done. But if the opportunity to listen to me whining about my job for some reason doesn’t inspire you to mash the Subscribe button, then…
Love,
The Airport.