First: how can we be sure that’s really The Challenge? Perhaps we’re reading ‘grid’ when some fiendish person with a dyslexic bent actually intended ‘gird’ … you know, as in “to gird one’s lions”. Bummer, so on we go as we stand.
it is then; lots of holes tied together with metal bits—like a net only not so floppy.
As below, for example. Here a bunch of park staffers have marked out a hopscotch grid for kids to hop on, on top of a grid made up of paving slabs. Big kids, small slabs—I wonder if I dare suggest ‘balance’ for next week’s challenge? (Naaaaah … they ignored me when I suggested ‘whimsy’) (just as well, a fiend could have a field day with that one).
So here’s our first grid, then—
A utilitarian pattern to be sure. I’m not sure if the “no landing on a line” rule applies to cracks twixt slabs but if it does it adds to the sadism of the park staff; very subtle.
AND ELSEWHERE IN LIVING
memory, the olde tennis clubhouse. Protected against generations of rogues and vagabonds with yetts* over the back windows; and what good vogue, ragabond, or vandal worthy of his brick can ever resist a good challenge—?
Bandit-glass or otherwise (and this one obviously put up a good fight) it’s no contest against a truly motivated lout. All history now, though. (Didja see the grid, huh?)
But just in case, I went to The Oracle and Googled it; better to be smug than sorry. Glad I did ‘cos I’m ever happy to see pretty girls and this was one of the images Google gave me for a yett*. (Strictly speaking it’s a ‘no banana’ but ya gotta give ’em credit for trying.) So no—that’s not really a yett. Not yet.
These yetts below were over some of the other windows around what used to be the back of the tennis building. Mismatched but very attractive to the eyes of anyone
idio persistent enough to battle the regrown native bush long enough to get there (boy, it was rugged going, I tell ya!)—
Here, now have a wee passing reference to one of the more obvious of grids; the one that might spring readily to mind at any mention of the word electricity. Dare I say it? The National Grid.
This wee image was shot at a country sub-station now rendered redundant by progress; mothballed and then museumed — pity now the lost volts, for they have no ohms to go to …
* I’m surprised they didn’t give me this—
—which I found under ‘yeti’. (Not a bad likeness, I must admit.)