Most Ironic Work-Related Accident. Everrr.

I read in Wikipedia today that Gabriel Sanson, the younger son of the reluctant executioner Charles Henri Sanson, and the assistant to his elder brother Henri, the sixth Sanson to hold the inherited office, met the most unlikely and ironic of fates when he: "died from an accident at work of falling down from the scaffold while presenting a cut off head in 1792".

I would love to know who he had just executed who had such sweet revenge upon his executioner...

Blog Orientation

I have neglected this blog, and on my occasional visits steered its subject matter unintentionally away from the Hill O. As an atonement for this editorial abandonment I have composed a poem, which speaks to the imbalance of chores as they are sometimes divided up between the residents of the Hill O:

I can't do many things at once, I can do one.
But doing isn't the same as being, or as seeing.
I can see you and me being together and
That is a thousand things at once.

I am going to do the ironing (ha! likely!),
Or the washing up (even less likely!),
Or perhaps do nothing very helpful -
But all the time I'm seeing you and being me.

I know you don't know it, but everytime
You smile at me, or gently reach out and
Ask me if I have lost my mind playing FIFA:

My heart jumps in my chest and my brain
Is flooded with warmth and I feel like I'm
Flying when I'm sitting still.

Someone so beautiful is setting great store
By the one thing I can do. Even if I haven't done it.