Luke deserves to be tossed into Tartarus with lead weights attached for being so awful to Annabeth.

Dior Goodjohn is so good, I love getting to see more of Clarisse. It’s such a beautifully vulnerable portrayal of a girl trying to be brave and prove herself to someone who barely even see her as a person.

I believe the name is a reference to the Hairy Maclary of Donaldson’s Dairy extended universe somehow, and the fact that the boat was found lying at an angle. Again, I cannot emphasise enough that responsibility for the names lies entirely with Cambridge Archaeological Unit, not us.

Boat 2, or Toppy, as he’s affectionately known, is a bit shorter than Dorothy (Boat 6), at just under 5.5 metres, but is a bit wider, and much knottier. He would probably be a very standard canoe shape were he not unfortunately missing a large section, which we’re calling the shark bite.

Absolutely diabolical of Arthur Wellesley naming his favourite horse after this. My dad was quite into the Napoleonic wars, but I never put this together until reading the interpretation for a painting of the bombardment in the Danish National Gallery.

I mean obviously part of the point here is that it immediately marks all trans people not wanting to be segregated as uncivilised and anti social and even criminal

Probably? I’m pretty sure you can ask Jehovah’s Witnesses to put you on a list of houses to never call at again, because my mum did that when they turned up at about 5 p.m. on Christmas Eve c. 20 years ago when she was in the middle of Christmas prep, and they’ve never been back since …

I said, “Sorry, I’m a witch!” to two very cheerful Mormons who stopped me in Peterborough last year, and I felt a little bit bad because there was this frozen smile silence for a few seconds before the programming kicked in and they said, “Have a nice day, ma’am!” and let me go on my way.

I’ll never get over them casting Lin-Manuel Miranda, an extraordinarily gifted and talented communicator who has significantly shaped the zeitgeist and is somehow everywhere and in everything, as the tricksy god of communication, information, and exchange.

These kids are going to be the death of me, it is going to be *painful* watching them not realise they’re practically married for the next few years while everyone else inevitably clocks it.

Just realised I forgot to add alt text: the photo above shows a white greeting card with a black and white drawing of a Mari Lwyd looking at some star ornaments hanging from a snowy tree branch.