Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo has been suffering from a case of the woozles the past couple days after his lengthy Saturday lumberjacking efforts and has not felt much inspiration to post, but I’m feeling better now. (Mrs. R duly chided me about “over-doing it” but if I don’t take care of these things, who will?)

Eldest Gel has decided that because Ol’ Robbo is interested in early English history he needs to read the collected works of George R.R. Martin.*** This comes up every time we discuss said history, which is rayther a lot since we’re both, in fact, interested in it. (And let me say here how grateful I am to have a kid with such interest in this wretched day and age.)

The argument usually goes like this:

We start with some specific topic. Hadrian’s Wall, Hengist and Horsa, the Battle of Baden Mount, the Conquest, Richard II and Bolingbroke, Richard III, etc.

At some point, Eldest interjects, “Dad! You’ve just got to read George R.R. Martin!”

“But why?” I say.

“Because he draws so much of his ‘Game of Thrones’ material from this same stuff!”

“But it’s fantasy. I don’t like fantasy. I’d rather read the history itself or else reality-based historical fiction. If I want to read dramatic treatments of, say, the War of the Roses, I’m pretty sure Shakespeare did a better job. And have you read Rosemary Sutcliff?”

“Whaddaya mean you don’t like fantasy? You read Tolkien and Lewis, don’t you? You’re a Star Trek nerd, aren’t you?”

“Tolkien and Lewis are the exceptions to the rule – I don’t read anybody else. And no, dammit, I’m not a nerd!”

Mmmmm, hmmmm…...Anyway, you need to read George R.R. Martin.”

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Ol’ Robbo has no plans to read George R.R. Martin.

***Oddly enough, she agrees with me that the tee-vee series appears to be basically Dungeons & Dragons with bits of gratuitous porn thrown in and is not worth watching.