Rush hour

On the West Pier.
1 jogger, 2 walkers, 3 magpies, no partridge, no pear tree.

A most vivifying walk it was too. The temperature has dropped in the last couple of days. I was all snug in my woolly jumper and winter jacket, listening to my daily podcast of "2000 ans d'histoire" (two thousand years of history, zero lessons learnt...).
Today, a history of the pig (most interesting - European pigs did not become pink until some time in the 18th century, when they were cross-bred with their Asian counterparts) There were comparatively few remains of pigs found by archeologists, compared to other domesticated animals. This is not necessarily an indication that the pig was less popular than nowadays. But as the French saying goes "dans le cochon, tout est bon!" and in some parts of the world, the lack of remains is more a sign that the whole animal was indeed consumed, its skin used for leather, tail hair for making brushes and bones used to make glue.
The guy being interviewed speculated as to why the consumption of pig meat (even touching the animal, or saying its name in some extreme cases) became an absolute no-no for the Islamic or Hebraic religions but there is no conclusive documented evidence. According to him. The guy who was speaking. I can't recall the name, but what's a name when what truly matters is the message?
One of his theories (but that's only his own) is that with a genetic make-up so close to ours (94%, something like that, I'm sure the aptly named Wingpig will correct me if I'm way off the mark. Or even slightly), eating pork is akin to eating your not so distant cousin. It is said that human flesh tastes almost like pork.

I wonder if I could make some decent brushes out of my cousin H. I know that he is daft as one.


Best viewed*





* Not up to me to tell in what size, it's best viewed than not at all...