The Wunderkammer of the Mild Colonial Boy, Esq., a Reactionary Tory Gentleman, who armed only with a Steampowered Babbage Engine and Pure Intentions, wanders the Time Streams and Aetheric Plane gathering an Eccentric Hodgepodge of Curiousities, Frivolities, Whimsicalities and Nonsense.
Q. Why is your Tumblelog called "My Ear-Trumpet Has Been Struck by Lightning"?
A. Because "My Grandmother's Ear-Trumpet Has Been Struck by Lightning" wouldn't fit in the available space.
Cornelia Otis Skinner in a May Day play, early 1920s
fencers, 1927
(Bryn Mawr College Library Special Collections)
I took fencing in college, too (many women’s colleges still have P.E. requirements, for reasons unknown). I was almost certainly the worst fencer in the world and still regret not taking tennis, which would at least have equipped me for the future, not the past. Then again, when have I ever chosen the future over the past?
