#her actual name is Liquorice Root | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

energywarning · 2 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons for (your) agent 24? I feel like you've probably posted some before but I can't find any lol

(Hi it is a bit disorganized i use both 3/8 and their names (ripley and eight) sorry ^_^' also alex is 4 bc shes mentioned once)

-8 wears 3's clothes sometimes for comfort to the displeasure of everyone most of the time. ("... does she seriously NOT notice the smell.?" (She doesnt, weirdly enough))

-8 stole 3's cape pretty much. BUT Asks 3 to wear it again every now and then though because 8 likes wearing it in the context where its 3's cape that she wears and if 3 doesnt wear it anymore then itd just be 8's cape that used to be 3's and she doesnt quite like that.?

-3 is an excellent cook and she meals prep for the week when she can, 8 is extremely grateful for this and sends her a thank you text everyday when she eats lunch. Or gives her a thank you kiss when theyre eating together. An unbroken habit. Despite 3 insisting that its literally just some food but ya know.

(tho Alex also live w them(since its her apartment??? Lol) And she is also very grateful for Ripley's cooking but its in a girlbro way not romantically. And this is an agent24 ask so)

-8 writes poems for 3 sometimes, the 1st time 3 catches her in the middle of writing it and she tries to be like "what is that, a poem ? Cool is it for me hhah-" "Yes it is do you want to me to read what i wrote so far now ? Im a bit stuck on it because i dont know if this rhyme sounds good or not" "Oh uh. Uh. uhhh. Sure Ok." . It surprises 3 a lot because she always considered herself boring and somehow 8 has So Many Thoughts about her?? (Boring NOT in a vanilla ice cream way, more like a discarded empty trash bag near a garbage bin way, or a few shards of a broken street lamp way)

-They do use pet names for eachother sometimes. Eight calls Ripley "honey" mostly and Ripley calls Eight "darling" (in octarian) . Ripley gets embarrassed easily so using a foreign language helps...

but their names means a lot to one another etc. so they mostly call eachother .that. ?

-3 has Zero respect for their body, sometimes it shows in big ways (post oe or splat 3... but anyway)

but mostly in small-ish details like dark circles under their eyes cus they dont sleep much, new small scars and scabs that they obviously did not disinfect properly and all that.

Annnd their hands.

One day they are in a bus or smth and 8 decides to be a Bold Friend (not dating yet at that point... i think ?) and grabs their hand but Oh My God it feels like shes holding a crusty chunk of wood!! What!?

So she moves 3s hands out of the pocket of their hoodie to get a better look and oh gosh your hands look so dry ??? How do you even move them!

3 tries to apologize but theyre cut off by 8 showing them something she got out of her bag... a hand cream ? Oh. Well thank you 8 ill go put on some- but then 8 starts to massage their hand and 3 is literally just Sitting There. From there its a little ritual they have somewhat, since 3 would literally never bother doing it themself, despite saying they would.

-8 chews/gnaws when shes nervous/excited/bored/(insert feeling here). She hates the weird plastic-y taste/feel so those chewing necklaces are out of the question. She doesnt like chewing gum either bc it doesnt offer enough resistence.? for a while she just mistreated her poor fingers/hands/arms ( last one is on rarer occasions.)

One day 3 notices and after some back and forth dialogue, digs around in their bag and gives her a.. box of liquorice roots ?

They tell her to try gnawing on these instead, "though the taste could be a bit weird so just try it and if you dont like it well we will try to find something else dont worry etc".

It worked out just fine! Now she always has a box on her. Well not always sometimes she forgets, but 3 always has one on them just in case 8 forgets.

(Energywarning here: when i mean "liquorice roots" i do NOT mean those liquorice stick candies. I DO mean the Actual Liquorice roots. I used to get these as a kid. I hear theyre good for teeth? Idk)

- 8 likes kissing 3's scar. Thats it thats the hc

I probably had more in my head but i forgot. Thanks for the ask !

#sillies #ripley(3)#eight(8)

57 notes · View notes

historical-rp-memes · 6 years

Text

Long song titles as starter scenarios

From a list of the 100 longest titles, but I only took the ones I thought might work as scenarios in the pre-Internet era. “Someday, in the Event That Mankind Actually Figures Out What it is That This World Revolves Around, Thousands of People are Going to Be Shocked and Perplexed to Find Out it Was Not Them. Sometimes, This Includes Me”

“Sir B. McKenzie’s Daughter’s Lament for the 77th Mounted Lancers Retreat from the Straits of Loch Knombe, in the Year of Our Lord 1727, on the Occasion of the Announcement of Her Marriage to the Laird of Kinleakie”

“Some People Know All Too Well How Bad Liquorice, Or Any Candy For That Matter, Can Taste When Having Laid Out In The Sun Too Long – And I Think I Just Ate Too Much”

“But When the Little Fellow Came Close and Put Both Arms Around His Mother, and Kissed Her in an Appealing Boyish Fashion, She Was Moved to Tenderness”

“I’m a Cranky Old Yank in a Clanky Old Tank on the Streets of Yokohama with my Honolulu Mama Doin? Those Beat-o, Beat-o Flat-On-My-Seat-o, Hirohito Blues”

“Gazing At The Blasphemous Moon While Perched Atop A Very Very Very Very Very Very Very Forsaken Crest Of The Northern Mountain”

“My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion (The Inner Life as Blazing Shield of Defiance and Optimism as Celestial Spear of Action)”

“In the Raven-Haunted Forests of Darkenhold, Where Shadows Reign and the Hues of Sunlight Never Dance”

“You be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground, I’ll be the wings that keeps your heart in the clouds”

“Come Sing Me a Happy Song to Prove We All Can Get Along the Lumpy, Bumpy, Long and Dusty Road”

“In the Absence of Strong Evidence to the Contrary, One May Step Out of the Way of the Charging Bull”

“Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows)”

“The Splendour of a Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath the Blazon of the Hyperborean Empire”

“Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict”

“I’ve Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)”

“Forlorned Invocations Of Blasphemous Congregations Of Lusting Goat Sodomizing Sathanis”

“Free Radicals (A Hallucination of the Christmas Skeleton Pleading with a Suicide Bomber)”

“Masturbating On The Unholy Inverted Tracks Of The Grim & Frostbitten Necrobobsledders”

“The Wizard Turns On… The Giant Silver Flashlight and Puts on His Werewolf Moccasins”

“I Will Never Write An Obligatory Song About Being On The Road And Missing Someone”

“Nocturnal Cauldrons Aflame Amidst The Northern Hellwitch’s Perpetual Blasphemy”

“The Hazards of Love 1 (The Prettiest Whistles Won’t Wrestle the Thistles Undone)”

“Oh, You Are The Roots That Sleep Beneath My Feet And Hold The Earth In Place”

“Transfixing The Forbidden Blasphemous Incantation Of The Conjuring Wintergoat”

“Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued”

“You Probably Couldn’t See For the Lights But You Were Looking Straight At Me”

“Bloodlustfully Praising Satan’s Unholy Almightiness In The Woods At Midnight”

“The Putrefying Road in the Nineteenth Extremity (Somewhere Inside the Bowl)”

“I’m Like a Lawyer with the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)”

“Does Anyone Else in This Room Want to Marry His or Her Own Grandmother”

“The Siege and Investiture of Baron Von Frankenstein’s Castle at Weisseria”

“Journey to the Isle of Mists (Over the Moonless Depths of Night-Dark Seas)”

“It’s Hard To Kiss the Lips At Night, That Chew Your Ass Out All Day Long”

“If You Wanted A Song Written About You, All You Had To Do Was Ask”

“Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off”

“(Lord It’s Hard to be Happy When You’re Not) Using the Metric System”

“I’d Hate To Be You When People Find Out What This Song Is About”

“I Am Downright Amazed at What I Can Destroy With Just a Hammer”

“Apparently Hover Boards Don’t Work on Water (As a Day in the Life)”

“It’s Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine. I Am Thinking It Must Be Love”

“Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends”

“Good to Know That If I Ever Need Attention All I Have to Do Is Die”

“Behold, the Armies of War Descend Screaming from the Heavens”

“Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey”

“Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums”

“Bulls Make Money, Bears Make Money, Pigs Get Slaughtered”

“I Venture Into The Crowd With A Spelunking Lamp On My Head”

“Guy Who Got a Headache and Accidentally Saves the World”

“The Polka Dancing Bus Driver And The 40-Year-Old Mystery”

“I’ve Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers”

“Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today”

“Thwarted by the Dark Blade (Blade of the Vampyre Hunter)”

“One Million Billionth of a Millisecond on a Sunday Morning”

“The Train Runs over the Camel but Is Derailed by the Gnat”

“Katy Says Today Is the Best Day of My Whole Entire Life ”

“The Difference Between Poison And Medicine Is The Dose”

“If You Can’t Live Without Me, Why Aren’t You Dead Yet?”

“Young Man, Old Man, (You Ain’t Better Than the Rest)”

“A Lot of People Tell Me I Have a Fake British Accent”

“Suffocating Under Words of Sorrow (What Can I Do)”

“Hold Me, Touch Me (Think of Me When We’re Apart)”

“Lift Your Head Up High (And Blow Your Brains Out)”

“The Dust Blows Forward And The Dust Blows Back”

“Bears See Things Pretty Much the Way They Are”

“Do You Have A Map Cause I’m Lost In Your Eyes”

#rp meme #meme #historical rp meme #historical prompts #prompts #rp prompts #starter scenarios #violence cw #WWII prompts

12 notes · View notes

ginobsessions · 6 years

Text

Back in August I received an invite to the launch of a new gin, Brentingby. It looked delicious, sounded delicious, there was only one problem, the launch event was being held on The Mother Figure’s birthday. I played through a number of strategies in my head about the best way of approaching this. The first and most logical thought would be to invite her along, the problem there being that she absolutely loathes gin. (Yes I know, I know, I do often wonder if we are actually related!) After much deliberation I had worked out a game plan.

Brentingby Gin is distilled in Leicestershire, only about 20 minutes from where I grew up. Brentingby Gin is the brainchild of Bruce Midgely who was born in South Africa, which is where mum spent some of her childhood growing up. (See where I’m going with this…) She will obviously think this is fate and won’t mind spending her birthday on her own.

To be honest, all I actually had to do was tell Mum that I’d been invited to the launch and she told me that I absolutely couldn’t miss it and insisted that I go.

Disaster averted, the 11th September came around pretty quickly, I donned my glad rags and headed off into London Town. The launch was being held at Wolfpack which is close to Queens Park and I met the lovely Gin a Ding Ding at the station which made me feel much better, because as I walked up I must confess I did feel a tad overdressed. Once inside and upstairs I completely relaxed. The venue was cosy and inviting and despite being amongst the first to arrive, it wasn’t at all intimidating. Another perk of arriving on time was being able to catch up with friends and having the opportunity to have a proper chat with the brains behind the drink.

Bruce Midgely comes from a background of working in oil and gas, a career which involved much time away from home and a rather hectic schedule. Deciding it was time to wind things down a bit, Bruce turned to gin. His theory was simple, if you’re not going to be the best then what’s the point in trying. Not knowing too much about gin he applied his theory of being the best, and reached out to Tom Nichol, the former master distiller for Tanqueray, for some guidance. In my mind you don’t really get much better than that! To Bruce’s absolute delight, Tom agreed to come on board and the Brentinby dream started to become a reality. Bruce talked about how he had designed and built his own 10 plate copper column still, Ayanda, and that he had in fact needed to cut a hole in his roof so that she would fit in the distillery.

“You ought to see it!”

“Well, I am actually going to be back home in a couple of weeks…” I replied. “You gotta swing by!”…mental note to self to tap him up for this visit!!

I must confess that I did get a little over excited when I managed to have a long chat with Tom Nichol himself, and I did geek out and ask for a selfie…well, if you don’t ask, you don’t get!

The launch, in my opinion, was wonderful. There was a real buzz about the place and the gin was absolutely beautiful. In true Tom Nichol style it features grapefruit as a botanical and you know how much I love my grapefruit. Alongside the grapefruit, sit a number of other botanicals, including hibiscus, birch, orange peel and liquorice root. Which together, create a very clean and thirst quenching drink which is juniper forward with a citrus twist. This gin made a great G&T and some mean cocktails. Bruce gave a speech, thanking everyone who had been involved and spoke of love, friendship and creating something British. Envisaging Brentingby being enjoyed at the polo, under parasols and alongside the cucumber sandwiches. Over the course of the evening I drank some utterly wonderful drinks and met some fabulous people, including Bruce’s gorgeous wife Sian. As the evening began to descend into nonsense and silliness, I grabbed my goodie bag and headed off to catch the train home.

I got home and gushed to Hubby about the gin and the venue and catching up with my Gin Girls and meeting Tom Nichol and of course about how fabulous Bruce and Sian were and how Bruce and pretty much invited us to the distillery and then went to bed.

For many people, this is where the love affair might end, but not me. Well, Bruce had said to swing by when I was up that way. So the next day I dropped him and Sian a message, saying thanks for such a great evening and to see if they were actually free the weekend we were heading up. THEY WERE!!

Brentingby Gin takes it’s name from the small village of Brentingby, where it is distilled, which is located just outside of Melton Mowbray. Having grown up in Loughborough, I still have friends in the area so manage to pop back up every now and again. Plans all firmed up I got a message from Bruce to confirm timings, it read…

“12:30 onwards suits us. 6 dogs, 5 geese, and 20 chickens await your arrival…and you can be one of the first to profile the Pink Gin.”

I was actually buzzing with excitement by the time the 2 weeks had passed and the Sunday finally arrived. The village is utterly beautiful and Bruce and Sian’s home is stunning. The distillery operates out of a smaller building on their grounds, but the house itself is a 14th Century church, complete with a tower.

When we arrived, we were indeed greeted by the 6 dogs and 20 chickens…and the ducks, and of course Bruce, who proudly showed us into the distillery.

A beautiful hand made, wooden bar sits at the front, with Ayanda standing resolute behind. Bruce was in the process of trying to bottle up a rather large order, so the distillery was awash with the stunning Brentingby copper bottles and on top of the bar sat an Erlenmeyer flask of beautiful pink liquid. Ever the perfect host, Bruce offered us both a gin, we were both really keen to see what Hubby thought as he hadn’t tried it before. Hubby and I have very different tastes when it comes to our preferred gins, he tends to like ones which are more juniper forward, while I prefer more citrus or floral flavours, generally grapefruit unites us, so I anticipated that Brentingby would be well received. I wasn’t wrong, Hubby absolutely loved the gin and immediately started asking Bruce a million questions, ones which I had pretty much already asked at the launch night.

While the boys were talking, my eyes were firmly on the pink, which I was desperate to try. In order to distract myself I took a little wander around to have a look at the set up…and check out the hole in the ceiling.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Nope, completely unable to wait any longer I headed back to my stool at the bar and picked up the flask of pink goodness. The Brentingby Pink features rooibos and baobab and I was desperate to try some. Bruce immediately grabbed a couple of glasses and told us that he was going to say nothing, just let us try and wait for our opinions. Hubby absolutely loved the stuff neat, a really rich start with a touch of floral and then some sweetness to finish, the sweet actually took him quite by surprise as the hit came right at the very end and he made lots of “pow-ing” and “wow-ing” noises. I preferred mine with just a splash of tonic to open up all the flavours a little more. Refreshing and lightly floral with a classic juniper feel. In my opinion not your stereotypical pink gin, which I often find to be very heavy on either sweet, floral or berry. Bruce had a little chuckle and said that our feedback was pretty much the split he had found so far, with many women having a similar reaction to me, while men reacted similarly to Hubby. Whichever way you choose to enjoy it, Brentingby Pink is a fabulous addition to the Brentingby family, which is still growing…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We had discussions about the Brentingby black bottle and what might be going into that and Hubby also took the opportunity to try some other Brentingby offerings, of which we were sworn to secrecy and can’t yet talk about! After Sian arrived home, we’d had a catch up, Juniper had herded some geese and Bruce and Hubby had ignited a bromance, it was sadly time to leave.

The future is certainly looking bright for Brentingby Gin, the order they were filling when we were at the distillery was for Harvey Nichols and they are also already being stocked in bars across London, including Bluebird and The Oliver Conquest. The Brentingby Pink was launched on the 1st October, just in time for Catford Gin Festival and it’s reception so far has been excellent.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

If London and Leicestershire are a little too far for you and you too want a Brentingby fix, then fear not, as it is also available online from Master of Malt.

I wish Bruce, Sian and Brentingby Gin every success, I absolutely love the stuff and cannot rate it highly enough…plus they are lovely people, and that’s got to count for something! Thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of your own very special gin journey.

Brentingby Gin Back in August I received an invite to the launch of a new gin, Brentingby. It looked delicious, sounded delicious, there was only one problem, the launch event was being held on The Mother Figure's birthday.

#Baobab #Brentingby #Copper #Gin launch #Grapefruit #Leicestershire #Melton Mowbray #Pink gin #Rooibos #South Africa #Tom Nichol

1 note · View note

theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

Text

The Sinnoh Iceberg Race! takes place in Sinnoh, surprisingly.

One of these long-standing regional traditions that curiously never occurred when we were actually there.

I have a feeling we'll see much of that.

Specifically Snowpoint City.

Oh I remember, it's Zoey and Candice's stamping ground.

Not that either of them turn up.

Yeah well, Zoey's probably travelling somewhere competing in Contests.

And Candice? The one with a proper job, thus tied to the local area?

A swimming race, through the icey waters, with the Ice Gym Leader down the road, and she doesn't compete?

Stuffing his face with fudge, Mini-Eggs, Jammy Dodgers, Giant Ice Gems and Liquorice Allsorts, 'cause Kanto can party.

It all begins when an emaciated Piplup arrives from the Artic Circle, having bypassed all the northern ports of Kanto in favour of the south, as you do.

Obviously there were no young girls with Piplups during the Sinnoh era, so Lauren was invented from necessity.

Lauren?!

We're in a world with Gohs and Laurens now?

'Lauren' is a mouthy, shop-lifting chav's name. I bet she's friends with Kylie, Jade and That Bitch Donna.

Piplup acts as a guide dog (guide penguin?) for partially sighted Lauren, who, like Wicke and Mattori, sprung into creation as another Velma clone.

True to her roots, Lauren is rendered blind by the loss of her glasses, which inexplicably fall off her face at every given oppotunity.

Did yer mug a pensioner for them, Lauren? 'Cause they ain't supposed to do that.

I told yer, man. Bet she beats up old war heroes for their Giromon.

Piplup slung his hook when the ungrateful bitch cuckolded him with Croagunk, another Pokémon Ash has never seen before.

It's well jel as she fawns over the arse-stabbing toad as such an excellent swimmer.

A poisonous, fighting frog is a better swimmer than a penguin? In salt water?

Apparently so, and Piplup decides to settle things by entering them both in the race.

I'd like to have seen him go up to registration, shrieking at the fella to put his name down.

Team Rocket rock the boat and Lauren finds herself swinging from the bars of the ship deck.

Well climb back up then.

She's BLIND! She can't move!

Why can't Ash and Pogo pull her up? Two big, strapping lads like that? Alright, one strapping lad and Gonad.

They're giving orders in a battle! They can't move! What's wrong with yer?!

The moral of the story is Piplup and Croagunk putting aside their differences to save Sissy's space specs, for what are are petty disputes compared to preserving her life?

That's going a bit far. It's just some water. She'd have been okay.

Are you mad? She'd have DIED ON IMPACT!!!

Eh? Couldn't she sink then bob up again in an ice block, or turn blue?

Don't be stupid. It was acid. She'd have MELTED!!!

Not that swimming in a frozen sea did Ash any harm, but clearly times have changed.

That wet stuff's a bitch, eh?

As a heart-warming close, the cycle repeats when a sea-faring Psyduck retrieves Lauren's lunettes.

That's the third Pokémon she's caught with this ruse. Gonad's missing a trick there.

My theory she's a teenage hooligan doesn't look so Farfetch'd now.

Still...

Octillery!

#Pokémon #Lauren #Piplup #Croagunk #The Sinnoh Iceberg Race!#Galar

0 notes

mourningsickness · 6 years

Text

Hyde Park's Pet Cemetery

On a gloomy Saturday morning, I braved the spittle of rain and my mounting sleep debt to attend a tour of Hyde Park’s Pet Cemetery. I was late arriving, as usual, and had to run from the station to catch the group, which meets every few months outside the refreshment stand near to Speakers’ Corner. Closed to the public except on these occasions, the cemetery is located in the north-east corner of Hyde Park, backing onto the Bayswater Road. It is secreted behind liquorice-black railings, concealed from full-view of the traffic by the foliage that forms a mesh over its metal bars.

The cemetery itself was the result of a kind of accident. Its inaugural burial took place in 1881, at the request of Mr. and Mrs. J Lewis Barned, two frequent visitors to the park. The gatekeeper, Mr. Winbridge – whose cottage was then attached to the small patch of turf that now forms the burial ground – used to sell them lollypops and ginger beer (Soteriou, 2015). The first plot went to Cherry, their children’s Maltese terrier. The garden at Victoria Lodge was one of the dog’s favourite walking spots and, as a favour to his friends, Winbridge allowed for him to be buried inside. His moss-speckled tombstone, which stands there still, reads: ‘Poor Cherry. Died April 28. 1881’.

Rumour spread like brushfire. Winbridge’s second internment was the Duke of Cambridge’s beloved Yorkshire terrier ‘Prince’, who was (sadly) mangled under the wheels of a moving carriage. The cemetery is full of such tender inscriptions: “To our gentle lovely little Blenheim, Jane – she brought the sunshine into our lives, but she took it away with her”, “My Ba-ba – never forgotten, never replaced”. Winbridge himself was responsible for most of the burials, sewing the bodies of the animals (predominantly dogs, some cats) into calico bags before laying them to rest with his own hands (Soteriou, 2015). Few of the animals’ owners actually attended these internments, for fear of worsening their own distress. Indeed, the cemetery held particular sway with London’s wealthier classes; many of the animals buried there hailed from regal, or military stock. Though its gates closed officially in 1903, the last burial – which took place in 1967 – was that of an ex-regimental mascot.

The cemetery was, it is fair to say, in a state of some disrepair. The headstones were mossy with age, and many of them knocked together, like bad teeth. Some had sunk so far into the hard ground that they appeared almost to be growing from it, like stocky roots. This is, perhaps, to be expected. Given its removal from the public sphere, the need for maintenance is less pressing than in the case of other urban ‘heritage’ sites – such as London's ‘Magnificent Seven’, which counts Nunhead and Old Brompton cemeteries among its number. Though grimy, many of the headstones at Hyde Park were visibly marble, a subtle hint at the graveyard’s former glory. As our guide was quick to point out, this affective custom of the bourgeoisie concealed the more sinister scourge of poverty and destitution that characterised much of Victorian life in London. Opposite the park, in Bayswater, were slums – many of whose (human) inhabitants would have been buried without such niceties, in unmarked paupers’ graves. The cemetery speaks then not only to the weight of affective, and sentimental value invested in pets, but also to a time when pet-keeping was a signifier of intense privilege. For those outside the safe confines of the Victorian leisure classes, they would have been simply an unaffordable luxury.

In her book Precarious Life, Judith Butler offers us the concept of the obituary as the vehicle par excellence for public memorialisation, and the ‘legitimation’ of deaths (Butler, 2004). Paradoxically, she suggests, the obituary functions as a determinant in what kind of lives are valuable. Whether or not a life is grieveable also dictates whether or not it is valuable. Certain forms of life, it turns out, are more grieveable than others. Butler utilises the fraught example of the lives lost (and much “obituarised” on the front page of the New York Times) in 9/11, versus the anonymous, civilian casualties who lost their lives in the Iraq war. Though distant, the cemetery at Hyde Park also brought this notion to mind. What about these delicate companions made them more worthy of commemoration than the vast numbers of poor who lost their lives during that time? Why is it that a visit to a pet cemetery constitutes a ‘quaint’ outing, where a visit to an abattoir would not? Why does there exist no such visual catalogue for the thousands of less-readily individuated species that were lost during the long twentieth century?

The Times, that bastion of media centrism, recently began publishing pet obituaries, sometime in 2016, suggesting that contemporary media enacts a similar function now. Although the Victorian cemetery fell into disrepair through disuse, across the country there now exist dedicated Pet Funeral services, as well as successful working pet cemeteries (among these are facilities in Surrey and East Grinstead, Sussex). Indeed, a 2015 study found that a quarter of British pet owners had ‘either organised funerals for their animals, or would consider doing so’ (Schopen, 2015). Cremation and burial services are already offered by roughly 50 funeral parlours; in excess of 10,000 pet services are conducted each year, including cremations for goldfish, budgies, and mice. We might well ask whether such affairs could be classed as forms of ‘griefsploitation’ – a fresh market for the necro-industrial complex to mine. Though these ceremonies reify and celebrate our love for our pets, this renewed professionalisation also seems at odds with the privatisation of mourning that has taken place across the span of the last century. Recalling the rituals surrounding the death of the small animals of my childhood, I am drawn to stories of ashes scattered in plant-pots and ancient hamsters lovingly buried in shoeboxes in back-gardens, or (for those without the luxury of such spaces) surreptitious areas of public parks.

One aspect of the visit I found particularly bizarre was the discordance between the gesture of affection embodied in each tombstone, and the names of the pets themselves, many of which verged on aggressive, or derogatory to the modern viewer. There were inscriptions bearing terms of endearment – ‘patient and loving to the end’, ‘dearly loved and faithful friend’, ‘a most gentle, a most loving Persian cat’ – nested underneath jagged, monosyllabic names like ‘Scum’, or ‘Smut’. Such ‘punk’ naming felt out of kilter with the wider sentimentalism at work. I was particularly appalled that one gravestone – partially concealed by the scraggly branch of an overhanging tree – appeared to have the N-word etched into it, followed by the birth and death dates of the dog interred within the grave. The sight felt like a violent reminder of the sprawling, and ductile networks of oppression in which Victorian mourners would have been embedded.

Many of the tourists around me were taking photos on their devices, smiling and laughing at the headstones with a sense of childlike wonderment best-described as ‘cooing’. I, too, took photos on my iPhone. Images provide a useful visual jog to the memory; such tours are rare, and I likely won’t return again. As I did so however, I felt ill at ease. There was something vaguely unsettling about the collective glee the cemetery provoked. Its modern-day status as a ‘charming’ spectacle, worthy of capture, felt incompatible with the lived distress of people who buried their pets here, and were too distressed by their loss even to attend. The group (myself included) stood laughingly over the grave of Balu – a dog whose headstone informed us he had been spitefully poisoned ‘by a cruel Swiss’ in 1899. He was singled out by the guide as part of a lighthearted, ‘spot the murder victim’ game. Some tenderness seemed to have been lost in translation here. Was it historical distance that allowed this laughter to enter the frame? Or is there something inherently comical about the prospect of violence committed against the nonhuman by the human? Does a person’s lived experience of suffering expire, or collapse into the stuff of ridicule after a fixed point? If so, who gets to make these kinds of ethical calls? A group of tour-goers, on a bitter Saturday morning?

Increasingly, I felt reminded of the grotesque aspect of our modern relationship with our pets, who seem to be incrementally perceived as source-material for ‘viral’ internet content; whether the innocent videotapes of ‘Animals Do the Funniest Things’, Youtube videos, memes, or thirty-second looped Instagram clips. Despite our care – or perhaps as a facet of it? – we seem to trade in the ridicule of animals, like a gag-reel writ-large. Even in this space supposedly consecrated to their memory, animals retain some affiliation with this ridiculousness. Teasing can be an expression of love. But I wonder if teasing does convey affection in quite the same way, when its object does not have the faculty to tease back. I think of my cat, and his concrete, palpable sense of humiliation when he is laughed at.

Hyde Park’s Pet cemetery is a historically-specific cultural monument, a sign of its time as well as the Victorians’ putative sentimentality, and their pompous, performative affective customs. Showiness aside, it also speaks to a moment in which pets – and their deaths – first began to be taken seriously. The rise of domestic animals saw pets gain not only ‘pet’ names but, with them, a sense of individuality that made them worthy of such commemoration. Even if there remains something spectacular about this space, with its bourgeois intentions, it acts also as a permanent trace of remembrance, an expression of gratitude for the company of creatures whose memories have long-since expired.

Bibliography

Butler, Judith, Precarious Life (London: Verso, 2004).

Schopen, Fay, 'Lots of people are getting pet funerals. Don’t, it’s a rip-off', Guardian, 14 September 2015<https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/sep/14/pet-funerals-rip-off-money> [Accessed 14 February].

Soteriou, Helen, 'Inside Hyde Park's secret pet cemetery', Telegraph, 4 August 2015, <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/news/Inside-Hyde-Parks-secret-pet-cemetery/> [Accessed 22 February].

1 note · View note