The males in the family have just embarked on the ultimate board game. Felix has always loved Monopoly: the financial cut-and-thrust of property purchase and development.
But now, he has a new twist on the old theme. He has Star Wars Monopoly.
It works like this: you start with something like 1,650 galactic credits. These look nothing like Her Majesty’s five pound note. They have various types of alien species on them, to distinguish one value from another.
And where the customary board is bordered by famous London locations up for sale, the Star Wars board intersperses planets like Utapau (200 credits) and Hoth (140 credits) with Free Parking and Jail.
To play this game is the most lateral-thinking of exercises, combining something as familiar and endearing as those old London streets with someone possessing the people skills of Darth Vader.
Phil and Felix suspended their disbelief and settled down to begin an epic game.
And within just a few moves Felix, was showing his obvious flair for intergalactic property management. He had secured not one DeathStar, but two.
Is that possible? I asked. Is it allowed? Apparently, yes, and yes.
But, I persisted, isn’t there something to stop you? A governor, so to speak?
No. No, out there in space, as here on earth, there is no-one to hear you scream when estate agents achieve the monopoly on dangerously desirable developments. An evil condo, here or there. A vicious Victorian villa. A dastardly Death Star.
The game needs an extra governor. Not a ruler, or administrator, you understand: Darth Vader is enough for anyone.
Rather, I use governor as it is used in the world of engineering.
Sometimes, machines can run away with themselves, even in this occasionally sane and credible humanoid world. They can get too
hot; they can run too fast; they can build up too much pressure. So those ingenious builders of our civilised planet, the engineers,
came up with something to control them.
And these things are called governors. Steam engines used early governors. They were two weights which were connected to a rod which sensed the steam flow. The steam made the rod go round. The higher the pressure of flow, the higher the weights would spin round and upwards centrifugally, until, eventually, they would hit a lever which opened a valve, releasing pressure: and thus keeping the steam at a constant working intensity.
Governors were used to keep millstones the right distance apart as far back as the 17th century. Now they police everything from regulating air flow through car engines, to the revs per minute on an aeroplane’s propeller.
In conversation with my engineer father, somehow over the years the governor principle has become a term used much more widely: to encompass internal governors, metaphorical regulators of our behaviour.
This afternoon, we were all fuller than a pig after a trufflefest. You could have rolled us all home, after the feast my sister laid on.And yet, with the advent of the Queen’s Speech at 3pm, the obligatory huge tin of chocolates was brought out.
They were proffered round, and my daughter came out with a sentence which indicates clearly where she feels her governor is: she asked:”Grandma, how many are we allowed?”
I explained patiently: today, I said, we are self-regulating. You may eat as many as you like. But be careful not to eat so many that you feel sick. Because, Reader, that is precisely what I used to do. I used to spend most of the three thirty feature film ruefully regretting the consumption of some ten large, attractively packaged chocolates.
No internal governor there, then.
I received a phone call which indicated that there is one member of our family who will probably never possess any form of self-regulation.
According to Chris, who is at home looking after Macaulay, a present was delivered to my home yesterday: a large and luscious chocolate orange.
She went out to work: a short shift. And when she returned he had exacted a familiar revenge: he had eaten the entire orange. I hope, fervently, not whole.
My life has been filled with dogs who lacked a certain moral fibre. When I was young, my family acquired a little black-and-tan stray called Paddy. She was a superlative madcap animal, but, like Macaulay, a consummate thief.
She grew larger and larger with her acquisitions, although my father will, to this day, tell you she was not fat: she simply had a small head.
She was clever with it, and learned to open our ground-level fridge with ease. Night after night, she would raid the fridge, taking casseroles, cheese, and anything else within her reach.
A council of war was held. It was decided that an insanely hot curry should be baked and left one night for Paddy to access. My father’s hypothesis was that chillies would prove so little to her taste that she would never set nose inside fridge again.
The curry was cooked with great ceremony: and placed with Shrewsday theatre inside the fridge.
Three days, it sat there, untouched. After further council, my parents admitted defeat, and removed the curry.
The next night, the fridge was stripped once more.
This was war. My father, ever the engineer, devised a cunning plan. My mother bought chocolates and he spent hours splitting them, and painstakingly filling them with chilli powder, and finally fixing them back together. They were little short of a masterpiece.
Into the fridge they went. And this time, they did disappear. And the puzzled patriarch of the family stood, scratching his head, trying to work
out why Paddy seemed to have suffered no adverse reaction at all.
Far from being deterred from her nighttime fridge exploits, she seemed to have once more gained from them. We can only surmise that, in common with many dogs, the hot centres of the chocolates never got a chance to emerge.
Instead they were gulped down whole, and did not even touch the side on the way down.
It was pointless ever expecting this hound to develop any internal control. In the end my father devised a fridge lock which stopped that nose in its tracks.
I watched this afternoon, and Maddie used admirable self-control, unlike Macaulay, who did not get any extra supper yesterday evening. One with an internal governor, one lamentably without.
But I have a feeling my son will accumulate as many Death Stars as he can: he has that Emperor of the Universe instinct.
And so my husband, his adversary, can expect to be Galactic toast.
Image source
Kate Shrewsday 
My internal governor was absent without leave yesterday, I’m left wilted and hungover, but what fun it was.
Enjoy Boxing Day, Kate.
Sorry about the orange …
Macaulay isn’t. And no-one really wanted it, far too much chocolate around anyway….so glad yesterday worked out well, the food looks absolutely wonderful, and the camaraderie sounds as if it was most satisfactory 🙂 Hope Boxing Day allows you to recover sufficiently to party all the way through to New Year.
LOL!!! I’ve missed your hilarious humour, Kate 😀
Alas, our puppy Quest lacks that same moral fibre…so far the toll includes about 15 hose ends, tupperware basin, my (Silhouette!) glasses, drain pipes, vacuum cleaner, assorted car (both cars!) parts – I have to stop this, my heart is starting to pound. We’ve been relying on vix vapour rub, but perhaps chilli is on the menu 🙂
Have a fabulous Boxing Day!
Oooh, I haven’t tried Vix, Now there’s a thought….hi Naomi 😀 hope you’re having a lovely break…my parents would have given anything for a remedy, particularly when Paddy chewed the T bars off four brand new pairs of children’s shoes…car parts is a new one on me, though !
Another technological metaphor for the self regulation governor is the moral compass. The irony is that the government needs the use of a governor more than most entities. Its moral compass is always “heading south” which is a saying in the USA that means doomed to failure.
Indeed, Carl…an important reference point, that moral compass. I am always amazed when governments actually manage to hang onto it. We did have high hopes for that president of yours, though….ho hum…
I voted for McCain. I doubt he would have been able to do any better. I do believe President Obama wants to set things right in all areas, but unfortunately despite his altruism, he has had to learn the lesson that the most powerful man in the world is very restricted in what he can effectualize by law, by special interests more powerful than most nation states, by politicians that seek nothing more than to make him fail for their own aggrandizement, and the inability of any person to manage the infinite and ever changing complexities of our time. Chronic crises management diverts us from initiating productive considerations. I do not think he will be reelected as he becomes the tragic hero but one for who’s political demise my not be a result of his own character defects. We have a saying that “Sometimes the presidency makes the man(Truman) and sometimes the man makes the presidency(Theodore Roosevelt). It seems these days a president is a mere caretaker managing decline with the least harmful immediate effects. I would start by vacating Afghanistan(5,800 dead, 35,000 returning amputees).
So did we. Sigh.
Such a delightful way for me to start my day; the day after, as it is here. My governors worked yesterday, so busy was I preparing our holiday feast. Today, however, today is the challenge, for too many caramels and fudge sit, just inside the fridge, where they should be safe. I wonder, could I get one of your dad’s refrigerator locks for this errant Yank?
I shall urge him to set up business forthwith, Penny, as I find I need one today too….glad yesterday went well. That was a beautiful post yesterday 🙂
Ahhh, what a post Kate. I love your use of governors and could use a bit more steam to my own in a couple of areas. Merry Christmas.
And to you, Tammy. I loved your Christmas post 🙂
Hi Kate – a bit of Monopoly (Disney version!) has been played here today as well.
Re the story about your Dad and the chilli powder in chocolates, puts me in mind of Danny the Champion of the World’s Dad crushing up sleeping tablets and putting the powder into raisins to poach pheasants!
Happy Boxing Day to all.
xxx
We’ll have to get Dad into the poaching game…we’ll need a big pram for all the dozy pheasants….happy in-between days to you, Miff….
Kudos to Maddie. I’m afraid I’m more of a Macaulay when it comes to chocolate. Paddy was obviously a dog of remarkable ingenuity and discriminating nose.
She had talent, I’ll grant you. But alongside cheese and casseroles, she loved less palatable stomach fillers, into which I will not go further. I think the idea used to be that she ate everything, regardless of its provenance….
I have crept up to the office to read your post Kate, leaving the male members of the tribe playing Monopoly: the new electronic version with a circular board! They have been playing for hours, it seems.( Well since 6:15 when I went into the kitchen to start supper and listen to ‘Pick of the Week.’)
Self governance sadly lacking here. Scout got up this morning and said he still felt full!
Hasn’t stopped the production of a full roast beef dinner tonight, with a new Christmas pudding. Whay have it on only one day of the year?
Better go and put the pop-overs in.
I am full of admiration, Pseu, and now feel the immediate and ungoverned urge to eat roast beef.
Enjoy 🙂
love the concept of governor, Kate. Thank you for sharing your brilliance.
Even our cells have governers – even our cells have governors…cancers arise when governors fail. that fact amazed me when I learned it. also read a fascinating book about what would happen on earth if all the people suddenly disappeared. All the technical governors you referenced would also fail because they depend on human monitors! Our oil fields in TX would explode in only a few days without people monitoring the monitors.
oh the balance to everything!
Now to eat some chocolate.
apologies for my typing and doubling. I still can’t figure out how to get my font back to a normal size – I pushed something somewhere last week and your blog is still affected. The automatic governor has left her post, I think! letters so tiny they’re unreadable and an automatic governor somewhere should be noticing this, but alas…
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, Deborah: self sufficiency sounds more and more attractive every day…
Great post. My governor tends to go AWOL just when her presence is most needed. 🙂
I know exactly what you mean, Ruth. External governors- like not having any chocolate in the house- are the only way I get by in these circumstances…
my internal governor said I could taste everything, but only a teaspoon size. that almost worked
I like that. Very much. But I might want one more teaspoonful….and one more….
I also want star wars monopoly
It comes with some fairly galactic endorsements 🙂
Hi kate.
I once, with June, sang to a group of very senior people.
Talking to the clients during an interval, was told by on man that he had been a poacher.
He told me how to catch a roosting pheasant without a sound, a skill which I have never practiced,
but which may come in useful one day! I shan’t publish the details, though!
A useful postscript to our discussions, Dad 🙂
LOL 😉
🙂
My dear sweet Kate: God! How I miss you! I’ve just read this post for the first time – missed it – I don’t know how – when it first came around. I have an idea! For the next 200 days – or 200 weeks – whatever, and however long it takes for your break from blogging – REPOST your blog from its beginning, in order! All that would be required is setting the scheduled releases, and WP will do the rest! Please! Please! Please!
This post cracked me up! It’s so timely for me, because we have – dare i say it – an even SNEAKIER pup than Macaulay. Princess had conssumed over the past year, more than her weight uin chocolate, i believe, and every single bit of it she got by very cleverly and surreptitiously snatching it – from many hiding places, mind you. The only thing she has not done, to date, is raid the refridgerator. Thank God! Especially since stuff stays in there so long it would probably be truly toxic (not that that would stop her, mind you!). I’ll probably have to post soon on her most recent bank job. Knowing that chocolate (esp. DARK chocolate) is supposed to be deadly – she must really be a ct, because she has at least 9 lives down already.
Please consider my request!
XOXO, Paula
Reposting sounds an excellent idea, Paula, and it’s the work of a moment. It is good to read of another dog who has a disgraceful propensity to steal. It makes one feel so much less alone 😀