Greetings Picklesversians,
The Ides of July are upon us! They fall on the 15th this time, just to keep us on our toes.
This month, I bring you:
– an update about how Artificial Selection is progressing.
– and an epic battle between Spain, England, and the ArkTech Territory for the honour of lifting the Pickles Cup!
Let’s get stuck in.
Write drunk, edit sober
You may have noticed that I enjoy collecting incorrectly attributed quotations. (If you’ve got any good ones, please do send them on to me!) In the context of the rise of AI – when people have become increasingly worried about technologies spreading misinformation – it interests me that we seem to forget how good humans are at doing that ourselves.
“Write drunk, edit sober” is yet another for my collection, with online claims that this was said by James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and perhaps most famously and inevitably, Ernest Hemingway (more on him later).
Whoever said it, it’s great advice, though I reckon it’s not intended to be taken literally.*
The week of the Ides of July marks the half-way point of my sabbatical. Since my last message, I’ve visited family, become aware that sport keeps happening, and received feedback from my editor. This last point means a lot of my time has been spent in the “sober zone” as I carefully weigh up each comment and decide whether or not to implement a change.
But what did my editor say?
Here’s a snippet:
From start to finish Artificial Selection has a consistent, engaging voice, and a story that held my interest, made me laugh, and sometimes had me on the edge of my seat, and a narrative mystery which all fits together cleverly. Very impressive. All in all, a satisfying read!
I’m sure you can imagine I was delighted by that feedback! Of course, there were also several suggestions about how to enhance the current draft, so I’ve been working my way through those. I reckon this might take one more week (two at most) and then I’ll be able to pass the draft to the wonderful beta reader volunteers among you and switch my attention to Book 2.
Speaking of which, if you’re interested in reading a pre-launch copy of Artificial Selection, and you haven’t already let me know, just drop me a line.
In other, moderately exciting news, I’ve figured out my launch date! It’s an Ides in 2024. I’ll reveal the month nearer the time, just in case anything changes… but I’m hoping it won’t. 
Now onto the small matter of the meaning of life…
Spain vs ArkTech vs England
While Douglas Adams fans everywhere know perfectly well that the meaning of life is 42, the rest of the world is left to figure it out on their own. Luckily, there are clever folk around like Professor Terry Eagleton, whose 2007 treatise The Meaning of Life set out not only to explore the question, but also to answer it.
(Those of you who do not wish to know the result, please look away now.)
The meaning of life is… jazz. Sort of.
Eagleton says, “what we need is a form of life which is completely pointless, just as the jazz performance is pointless. Rather than serve some utilitarian purpose or earnest metaphysical end, it is a delight in itself.”
Whodathunk?
In his exploration of the topic, Eagleton also considers the role of sport as a maker of meaning in people’s lives. After all, he says, “sport involves tribal loyalties and rivalries, symbolic rituals, fabulous legends, iconic heroes, epic battles, aesthetic beauty, physical fulfilment, intellectual satisfaction, sublime spectaculars, and a profound sense of belonging.”
In a similar vein, Bill Shankly famously said: “Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”
(Except that he didn’t! Here, we have another delightful misquote. Honestly, they get everywhere!)
But Dani Rojas really does insist that “football is life” and I wouldn’t dare argue with a star player from AFC Richmond, even if they are a fictional team.
I’m not much into sports myself (except for the grass court season of tennis, as illustrated above), but it has not escaped my notice that the Eurovision Football Contest 2024 has been going on and yesterday’s final featured England versus Spain.
Having lived in both countries for a substantial chunk of time (Spain for five years, then England for ten), this gives me an excuse to organise a match of my own. So buckle your multi-point safety harnesses because you’re about to experience a three-way grudge match between England, Spain and the ArkTech Territory for the honour of lifting the Pickles Cup!
But the matter at stake is not a question of sport.
It’s the standard of living.
Disclaimer: Before we start, I should note that the opinions expressed throughout the Pickles Cup tournament are based on my own subjective experiences. These opinions are supplied for entertainment purposes and should not be taken too seriously, or indeed as literal* truth. For example, I’m sure England does have a decent road somewhere. It’s just that I’m yet to personally experience it.
A whistle blows. The players run onto the pitch and the first category is announced.
Weather
Spain takes an early lead as their players slather themselves in sun cream. Considering how the referee is a sun-loving lizard creature, Spain’s basking opportunities earn them a solid first goal.
Meanwhile, England’s side of the pitch is covered with a thick blanket of cloud that makes the team having got out of bed a success worth celebrating. England doesn’t even bother taking a shot on this category.
The ArkTech Territory’s team arrives on the pitch by kayak as their home is located on a flooded region of what was once the east coast of England. The area suffers from violent winter storms thanks to the climate changes caused by the Melt. It’s hard to imagine England’s weather could get any worse, but there you have it. The wind snatches ArkTech’s ball away.
Weather score: Spain 1 – England 0 – ArkTech 0
Tea-making apparatus
Spain bounces the ball and takes aim at the basket, but it bounces off the rim. When I moved to Spain in 2009, my two words of Spanish did not leave me linguistically equipped to tackle the baffling reality of finding no kettle in the kitchen. On my second day in the country, I figured out how to say “necesito una cosa para hervir el agua” (I need a thing for boiling water). The shopkeeper passed me a saucepan. True story.
England is looking confident on the kettle category and their striker approaches the giant white capital H at the end of the field, but the ball hits the post! What happened England?! Oh no – it’s the Great British Kettle Surge, the phenomenon whereby the national grid is overwhelmed during the advert breaks of popular UK TV shows when the whole country goes to put the kettle on at the same time. England goes off to borrow a ball, and some electricity, from France. What a shame.
ArkTech swoops in decisively here, to score their first goal. Everything in the territory, including kettles, is powered by renewable energy, which is stored in small and efficient “Solar Shard” batteries. The Silicon Fen fans in the crowd go wild!
Kettle score: Spain 0 – England 0 – ArkTech 1
Wine
England are looking worried now and the wine category only adds insult to injury. The internet tells me there are English wines, but I haven’t knowingly tried one. England’s shuttlecock gets stuck in the branches of a nearby tree.
Spain asks Feliciano Lopez to serve at 152 miles per hour. It’s an ace! I used to live in La Rioja, wine capital of the world (well, of Spain, anyway). There was practically a winery on every street. I remember being impressed when I visited my first bodega and saw their claim to fame: Ernest Hemingway had visited it (I did say he’d be back). But subsequent trips to other wineries made one thing clear: such was Hemingway’s passion for wine, he’d visited all of them! Now I see why the “write drunk, edit sober” quote is so commonly attributed to him.
Growing grapes is tricky in the ArkTech Territory because it’s a network of platforms suspended above the Fenland Sea. Their volleyball gets swept away by a rogue wave. No points.
Wine score: Spain 1 – England 0 – ArkTech 0
Ongoing fascination with World War II
A curveball from the tournament organisers lifts England’s spirits as they carry the ball over the line and proceed to dance around in their heavy armour. Nobody does interest in WWII better than the English. In fact, the previous Prime Minister recently decided to honour the 80th anniversary of D-Day, by leaving the commemorations early, only to suffer a landslide defeat in the general election which took place a month later. Coincidence?
Spain are confused, partly because they were neutral in WWII and partly because they can’t see the relevance of this category to the topic of the standard of living. They suspect foul play. With rude gestures towards the umpire, their dart misses the bullseye.
Even in 2101, I suspect immigrants from the Kingdom will still talk about WWII. However, most of ArkTech’s employee-citizens are more preoccupied with remembering the recent horrors of the Melt, which took place from roughly 2048 to 2058. The players’ hockey sticks become entangled.
WWII score: Spain 0 – England 1 – ArkTech 0
Food
Perhaps a surprising turn of events, but Spain and England both score here. While Spanish food as a whole is consistently and demonstrably wonderful, England is home to the Sunday Roast. On the strength of Yorkshire puddings and gravy alone, England scores a surprise second goal!
At ArkTech, there’s a vibrant foodie scene for those who wish to spend money on such things. But for everyone else, the company issues Nutrition Bars made from kelp, nut butters, and flavourless pea protein. In Charlotte’s words they have the taste and texture of damp sand. But hey, they’re free. ArkTech scores as well!
Food score: Spain 1 – England 1 – ArkTech 1
Any infrastructure of any kind
With two goals under their belt, England were starting to look hopeful they could turn this match around. But with the announcement of the final category, their dreams of lifting the Pickles Cup turn to ashes. (But sadly not the cricketing kind.)
Whether it’s roads, public transport, town planning, renewable energy, dentistry, sports and gym facilities, or sewage and waste management, Spain would seem to have the upper hand. The Spanish team rolls two sixes.
ArkTech does well here, too. One of the company’s three co-founders was Marvin Walker, a talented architect who helped design the territory’s platforms in a way that meant the region could operate as a carbon negative society. The ArkTech team yells “domino!” as they place their final piece.
Infrastructure score: Spain 1 – England 0 – ArkTech 1
Presenting the trophy
In a desperately sad case of art imitating life, the scores are in, with England scoring half as many goals as Spain.
Spain 4 – ArkTech 3 – England 2
Spain lifts the Pickles Cup, ArkTech accepts the consolation prize (a bottle of pre-Melt English wine), England earns the wooden spoon, and Marianne refuses to stop mixing sports metaphors.
Don’t worry, England. You lost again, but we still love you! In fact, it’s worth mentioning that whenever I tell an English person that I lived in Spain for five years, their most common response is “Why did you leave?!” And I confidently reply…
Well, it’s because… you know… England… it’s very… there’s the gravy… Yorkshire puddings, of course… and I, uh…
Where’s my suitcase?
On that bombshell, I bring this epic tale to a close.
That’s all from me for this month. Hope all’s well in your own personal universes.
Until the Ides,
Marianne
*Interestingly, Terry Eagleton’s book The Meaning of Life mentions that “meaning cannot just be whatever I decide.” Which is true. But the English-speaking community can collectively decide that one of the meanings of the word “literally” should (literally) become “figuratively”. As a fan of descriptive (not prescriptive) linguistics, I’m OK with that**, but it does make me want to start a campaign to use the word “figuratively” whenever we might traditionally have said “literally”. Just to balance things out. Please feel free to join in.
**Having said that, I did once find myself in a huge room full of people who were about fifteen years younger than me, when one of them loudly announced that a video game had been so scary that he “literally shat himself”. I looked around for someone to share my grin with, but I was alone in finding his statement in any way amusing or noteworthy. 
Secret bonus P.S.
For anyone still reading who may be worried that I really am a lizard creature, or worse, an AI, here’s photographic evidence of my physical existence. It is expressed in Scotland’s national unit of measurement: the Andy Murray.
(As it turns out I’m figuratively one foot shorter than him.)
