Nosism, pluralis maiestatis and the royal we

So I am reading a book. This is, I know, no news. It is also a position of privilege - the book's not published until next year, and I have a very early copy - which I am trying not to abuse, hence the lack of identifying detail at this time. I intend to say more later.

But here is a thing that intrigues me. Being English, I am of course more than accustomed to the royal and the editorial we: that assumption of plurality in utterances from above, ex cathedra. We are, notoriously, not amused (it is indeed sometimes called the Victorian we, as though it had not existed theretofore).

In this novel, though, the author is using what I have decided to call a courtly we. The imperial court is entangled with tradition and formality, and even in private conversation, everyone adopts a plural in talking about themselves: his secretary to the emperor no less than the emperor to his secretary. I am not conscious of having seen this before, but I may of course be missing classic examples in literature that I have either forgotten or merely not yet read.

So: does this ring any bells at all, for anyone?

Bacon report

When I was eight, I learned the word "procrastinate", when my teacher invited me up to the front to demonstrate wave forms on the board (we were building an oscilloscope at the time), and I dithered so long over which forms to draw he said, "You see, class? This is what I was telling you before: Charles procrastinates."

He was a smart man, was Dr Johnstone. I still do. Frequently it costs me money, or other agony; often and often it costs me food, as the whatever-it-is goes bad before I get around to using it. I despise this in myself, and I still do it anyway. Not capable of learning, seemingly.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to do it with my lovely green bacon: dither so long over whether to roast or smoke it that I would end up doing neither and it would go sticky and slimy and waaaah. So I took the easy option, banged the oven on low and put the bacon on a rack and let it roast for a couple of hours as per instructions.

Lessons learned:

1) I need a good instant-read thermometer. Probably a Thermapen. I am saving my money as we speak. (The book says "until internal temp reaches 150F"; my joint was smaller and I gave it longer and according to my ridiculously cheap thermometer it never got that high. I choose to disbelieve the thermometer, and replace it with something reliable.)

2) Even once provided with adequate machinery, I don't think I'll do it this way again. What I have as a result is delicious, but more like ham than bacon: it looks and tastes lightly cooked to me, rather than cured. Which is not what I'm after.

I am of course rightly incapable of mulling over bacon and rawness and so forth without recalling the infamous Thekla von Stift, who ate raw bacon at a midnight feast and was rendered appallingly ill, and never thereafter was heard from again very shortly afterwards became the first girl ever expelled from the Chalet School. (No, not actually for eating raw bacon, that's just a symptom of her general shocking waywardness - but I never can remember what she actually gets sacked for, so in my head yes, the bacon did it.)

In passingly-related news, I do love how Wikipedia will say "There were no results matching the query 'Thekla von Stift'. The page does not exist. Did you mean 'Thier von Stift'?" - and you click on "Thier von Stift" (which is a live link) out of curiosity, and it says "There were no results matching the query 'Thier von Stift'. The page does not exist..."