Clondaw Robin Blog – May 2026
Greetings from the undisputed chess champion of the bath field and the summer field. I have indeed united the belts (whatever that means), carrying my unbeaten run into the summer field defeating all the horses that have ventured my way. I have to say that the challengers took their defeats with good grace, apart from Somkiyr, but there was a bit of grumbling that no longer having to worry about going on the gallops and to racecourses did give me a bit of an advantage. Well, so what? And then, to reinforce my success, I extracted a conceded loss from a labrador that gets taken for a walk in that field because the dog, given a choice between a chess match and a paddle in the river, chose the river. I did warn him about the risk of trolls lurking under both bridges, but he seemed to be fairly unconcerned by the prospect. And I heard that labradors were intelligent.
My sidekick, Privatearing, went missing from the field for a couple of days. It turned out that due to an abscess on his hoof, he was having a spell up in the barn. A troublemaker started a rumour that Privatearing had really gone to the crossroads in order to sell his soul to the devil in return for acquiring elite chess skills. I am able to discount this for several reasons. One is that he was a bit lame when I last saw him. Two is that he could not make it as far as the crossroads unaccompanied without getting into some sort of mischief. And finally, if I was him, I would prioritise a deal to stay accident free over one to be good at chess.
{What happens if the barn is built on the site of an old crossroads? And the devil is dropping in a late spring two-for-one, so he could be accident free and good at chess? – Ed.}
It is an interesting idea. With it being a fairly sedentary activity, if Privatearing played chess more, he would increase his chances of being accident free. And that is the sort of sneaky deal the devil would offer, suggesting a freebie when it is really your own actions that control your fate. But if the devil were to be popping up in the barn, all the fire and brimstone and stuff would make the doves less pristine in their whiteness.
{Alternatively, is it worth me pointing out that in the summer field, there is a place where two footpaths cross. – Ed?}
So, Privatearing could already have become good at chess before he went to the barn? But if the devil appeared in our field, I think I would have noticed. I can tell the difference between a horse’s hoof and a cloven hoof.
{What if he was in disguise? – Ed.}
We have seen nothing other than that labrador…wow! No wonder the labrador is not worried about trolls. It is amazing how we can work these conundrums out as a team. When we get Wait In The Wings out in the field, I will get him to deal with the supposed labrador. Now it is time to deal with this month’s question, before I get too alarmed to concentrate.
Our letter comes from a Mr G. Mercator of Duisburg. He writes, slightly immodestly in my personal opinion, “I was the first person to use the word atlas to describe a book of maps and I invented the projection method that bears my name as a means to represent a sphere on a flat piece of paper. Yet, with all this cartographical expertise, I cannot work out why the first three days of the Giro D’Italia took place in Bulgaria. I suspect that it may be the evidence that my theories on magnetism were right all along. Any thoughts on it?” Well, Gerardus, it just so happens that I do. One is that it is marketing gone mad. The other is that Bulgaria was part of the Roman Empire, and there are a lot of people who struggle to dissociate modern Italy from the Roman Empire. I may only be a horse, but I watch pigeons navigate and am fairly certain that the Earth has two magnetic poles and to suggest otherwise means that you risk being anointed as a nutter. Perhaps, in the pursuit of knowledge, you drifted outside your comfort zone. Happens to all of us on occasions. I once accidentally ended up in a 2m 7f hurdle.