editions:
[1922]
[html]
[archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [325] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [path] [other] [*]
fd: [324]
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notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [325] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [path] [other] [*]
fd: [324]
Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten, about two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott's dyeworks van over there. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Five guineas about. On the pig's back.
LB saw a Prescott's car on p80
(they deliver) |
£2/15 in 1904 = $360 today
50yo in 1901 |
Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new garters.
at Brown Thomas, p160: "Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings."
p55: "violet, colour of Molly's new garters"
Today. Today. Not think.
Tour the south then. What about English watering places? Brighton, Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely seaside girls. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages. Will eat anything.
Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Why I left the church of Rome. Birds' Nest women run him. They say they used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato blight. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews. Same bait. Why we left the church of Rome?
36yo illiterate in 1901 |
44yo in 1901 |
"Why I left the church of Rome" [ebook]
fd:
[325]
A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No tram in sight. Wants to cross.
"stripling" = adolescent, fragile offshoot
(foreshadowing SD? reg req)
cf p37: "I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do"
— Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.
The blind stripling did not answer. His wall face frowned weakly. He moved his head uncertainly.
— You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite. Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.
looking north, Molesworth on near right, Duke on (far) left |
The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in John Long's. Slaking his drouth.
p66: "Drago's shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown brillantined hair over his collar."
— There's a van there, Mr Bloom said, but it's not moving. I'll see you across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?
— Yes, the stripling answered. South Frederick street.
— Come, Mr Bloom said.
He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward.
Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust what you tell them. Pass a common remark:
— The rain kept off.
No answer.
mysteries:
[DD 02:51-04:12]
[DD 00:00-02:34]
[IM 1:16:12-1:18:46]
[LV1 32:57-35:34]
[LV2 20:00-22:48]
lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175
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