Now that the Blairs have gone, the Chancellor of the Exchequer is living in the flat above 10 Downing Street and a new cat, Sybil, has been introduced, as reported by the Daily Telegraph and other sources.

Reports are accompanied by stories of the much-missed Humphrey. This was new to me:

In June 1995 when Mr Major was in Downing Street, he went missing and was presumed dead, but returned after staff at a Westminster medical college read his obituary and realised the cat that had made his way into their building was, in fact, Humphrey.

Alastair Campbell’s diaries are quoted:

He remembers the “ludicrous situation of me and the Cabinet Secretary both having to spend a large part of our day dealing with it.
“The bloody thing was retired in Surrey, and a bit old now, and Robin B (Sir Robin Butler, the Cabinet Secretary) wanted us to be sure we would not be bringing any undue stress or attention on his new owner.”

Humphrey apparently died in March 2006, aged 18. His food and vet’s bills had been paid with a £100 annual stipend from the Cabinet Office budget.

Lifehacker links to a Microsoft tip on how to enter automatic text in Word.

With the replace text as you type feature turned on, enter =rand() and press enter.

They got

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

I got

Franz jagt im komplett verwahrlosten Taxi quer durch Bayern. Franz jagt im komplett verwahrlosten Taxi quer durch Bayern. Franz jagt im komplett verwahrlosten Taxi quer durch Bayern. Franz jagt im komplett verwahrlosten Taxi quer durch Bayern. Franz jagt im komplett verwahrlosten Taxi quer durch Bayern

Whatever happened to Zwölf Boxkämpfer jagen Viktor quer über den großen Sylter Deich? (see Wikipedia).

A mysterious image has appeared on the ceiling of Fürth railway station.

This may be connected with the railway festival this coming weekend.

Bei diesem Höhepunkt der Jubiläumsfeierlichkeiten präsentieren sich historische Lokomotiven, moderne Triebfahrzeuge, Busse und Bahnen in einer Zusammensetzung, die einmalig und so wohl nie wieder zu sehen ist. Zum Beispiel können bei der Ausstellung, die an beiden Tagen von 9 bis 14 Uhr stattfindet, die Weltrekord-Lok von Siemens, die 1939 erbaute Dampflok TAG 7 oder die so genannten Botschafterlokomotiven aus Luxemburg (BB 36 02) und Österreich (93 1410) bewundert werden. Weitere Leckerbissen für alle Eisenbahnfans sind zum Beispiel die Dampflok 475 111 des „Iron Monument Club Pilsen“, die Diesellok V 200 135 der Museumseisenbahn Hamm oder der nicht betriebsfähige Nachbau des Adlers.

I find it rather poignant that an ICE is to be named Fürth. It would be more interesting if the ICEs had not given up stopping in Fürth a couple of years ago.

(via Mrs. Tilton)

At German Joys, Andrew Hammel has an entry with useful links on doing an LL.M. in the USA. He refers in particular to a book in German on the topic by three German lawyers: Der LL.M.

It was written by three young German lawyers who have had experience with various programs. I haven’t had time to read it yet, but it seems pretty thorough. Subjects covered: how an LL.M compares with other postgraduate programs; how to select an LL.M program; deciding which country to go to, and arranging financing. In addition, there are “experience reports” from people who have attended LL.M programs in the UK, South Africa, Germany, New Zealand, and the U.S. A section in the middle provides examples of CVs, letters of recommendation, and application essays.

Anna Steegmann teaches writing in New York. She has an article in the New York Times about being an illegal German immigrant in New York, scarcely able to speak English.

It was a Saturday afternoon, a time when German cities turn into graveyards. But in the park, blasting radios battled one another for dominance, elderly men played speed chess with youthful contenders, and dope peddlers, fire eaters and aspiring folk singers competed for the public’s attention. Children on the swings shrieked with delight, while hyperactive small dogs engaged in rough-and-tumble play.
I was 25, love-struck and delusional, and I decided to stay. Ignoring all the illegal immigrant’s red flags (no health insurance, no green card, no work, no savings), I cashed in my return ticket.

Those Saturday afternoons are not as bad as they used to be. They are a bit like that, but the feeling of deep depression and everything dead has gone. Some shops here stay open till 8 p.m. It’s not New York, though.

(Via The Lexicographer’s Rules)