Recently completed HFM Prescott’s The Man on a Donkey, a wonderful piece of historic fiction about the main actors (and a few fictional ones) of the 1536 Pilgrimage of Grace—a rebellion against the religious changes of Henry VIII. Despite being a scholar of 16th century England I’m not at all interested in historical fiction, but this was quite a beautiful work set as a chronicle and tracing half a dozen characters from their youth until the final suppression of the Pilgrimage in summer 1537. Prescott does get straight to business so I can imagine it would be a bit difficult to place oneself without preexisting knowledge of late medieval/early modern England, but that thrown-in-the-deep-end attitude worked for me.

Edit: word is that Hilary Mantel was deeply influenced by Prescott, as was the playwright of A Man for All Seasons.

My mother in law has a very dainty, feable 12-year-old Maltese that he tries depseratly to play with. That usually involves the Maltese getting stuck under Radahn…surely that counts!

Ye dead who yet live!

He’s got the mass of a black hole if we’re talking force of attraction.

He certainly gets all the scritches that could be wished for.

…and he steals all the socks he could wish for!

Thank you!

I’m pretty sure if I brought him to the NYSE they’d have to suspend trading.

I was sent to a series of the ‘better’ programs—i.e., the ones without deaths attached to them. It took a decade of therapy to deal with the worst of the trauma and I still experience PTSD episodes several times each year. It’s astounding how these facilities carry on functioning with merely a name change. There’s almost no regulation, let alone patient rights. My first program was truly one of the better ones and they had patient rights information posted through the facility and hard copies provided in your welcome packet. When I was sent to my second program (wilderness), I asked what my patient rights were. I received dumbfounded stares followed by laughter.