I really enjoyed this. Plenty of penny-drop moments with twists and turns all over the place. Although I barely noticed it during the solve, there’s a theme signalled in the two long entries ‘TURN a blind eye to’ and ‘TURNED the TABLES’. Had I bothered to investigate further I might have linked them to ROTA(table), and the ghostly mELBA Toast, carpEL BAThtubs and towEL BATtersea hidden in the completed grid. A fun idea that.

Crosophile is quite a risk taker with his clues – ever inventive and original, and occasionally innovative in quite brilliant ways, as in my nomination for today’s CoD which relates to what is surely the televisual equivalent of the cryptic crossword. Here it is again:

24d Capital of Libya. India. The Road to York. Kent area. Only Connect? (6)

Loved that. other highlights include some clever surface readings like 12a 13a, or 26a, the jiggery-pokery in 14d PEN-AND-INK, and the cleverness of 16d BATTERSEA.

Unfortunately 6d was a bit complicated for my brain this morning, so I just bunged it in and went to Fifteensquared to get help from Duncan’s blog. Never mind, at least I twigged the straight cryptic for 2d, which should read ‘Professorial sinecure’ of course.

if you managed to polish that off and still have an appetite for more before Monday comes around, then you could always try to solve my crossword in the Independent online today, where I go under the name of Maize. For the link click here. It’s the puzzle inspired by a doubtless long-forgotten debate I had with Denzo and dtw42 on grid-filling in the comments of idothei earlier this year.

And here’s the link for Crosophile’s puzzle with all the answers and parsings:

Independent 9449 / Crosophile

My knowledge of Russian poets and poetry is sadly lacking. Pushkin I’ve heard of, but never read, and I did manage to dredge up from the dark recesses of my memory that he was killed in a duel with his wife’s lover. But that was no help whatsoever in solving 8ac – how many other people died like that? The crossing lights, however, were very helpful and my first guess at LERMONTOV proved right, and I then appreciated what a good clue it was, giving both definition and word-play, and a neat description of him as well.

Of knowledge of Piezomagnetism, on the other hand, I have NOT A SCRAP. Fortunately the crossing letters were helpful here, too, with a decision only about where the M and the Z should go being necessary. Getting the final C from ARSENIC threw me for a while; having the initial P in place, I took that to have come from “pressure”, and decided the definition was “at top speed”. Remembering that c refers to the speed of light took a while.

Compared to these two, checking up on a list of novels by Stevenson and on where Marx was born seems barely worth worrying about.

This was tough, I thought. There were a few easier clues to get one going, but then a lot of untangling of some cleverly constructed clues was required. Wiglaf is a less frequently seen setter, and sometimes that means it takes me a while to warm to the style, which I did in the end. Favourite clues included CAMELLIA and STOUT, and the deceptive GIRLS. But my nomination for Clue of the Day goes to the entertaining homophone in 17ac: “It’s the state to be in when there’s sun and fresh air, they say (6)”. I couldn’t get “Nevada” to work.

Here’s the link to the original blog with answers and explanations, and a few comments exploring the origins of the D in ESPLANADE:

Independent 9,462 by Wiglaf

A pretty tough offering from Klingsor today I thought. Apart from the bird in the SW corner there is nothing that is obscure, so here at least the problems lay with lots of very difficult to spot definitions and quite tricky wordplay. Exactly the way things should be of course, each answered clue eliciting a – why didn’t I think of that earlier. Perhaps you did, and I’m just being slow today. Of the ones I couldn’t parse, the aforementioned 21ac also featured a river I’ve not heard of, and at 2d the anagram indicator was so well hidden in the surface reading that I totally misread the cryptic part. Elsewhere I was most definitely just being a little dim, as “nerd” for “geek” and the dance required in the far NE corner took far too long to surface. I will claim though that I’m justified in taking an age to get the firearm required in 26ac as the usage feels very old fashioned now.

COD? With lots to pick from, and I’m sure you’ll have your own favourites, I’ll go with the wince inducing 9ac – “Players facing pace slice balls away (8)”.

To February 2017 for all the answers and parsing of the clues:


An enjoyable, pretty straightforward offering from Eccles this week that was a more than able substitute for Dac. At the close 1d, 4d and 7d gave a little pause for thought, but the rest fairly flew by which was a relief to be honest after a few tough days in the i. I half expected to go onto Fifteensquared to find a theme that I hadn’t quite fathomed out, 9ac and 29ac being indicative of things stateside, but it appears not. Perhaps that was just the drift of Eccles’ thoughts when he was filling the grid. Non horse-racing fans may have been a little stumped by 1d I suspect, but the name was familiar enough here that, after working out that we were looking for an unexpected acronym (do we get many of those?), in it went.

COD? I suspect this will be a day when there will be lots of different nominations, because there were quite a few worthy of note, with mine going to 22d – “How Sesame Street might describe scimitars and sabres? (6)”.

To February 2017 for all the answers and parsing of the clues:


There’s no yardarm available to check, but if you ask me it’s a bit early for this sort of thing.  Riotous carousal is the order of the day and Hoskins does not seem to be one to do things by halves.  We have a comparatively rare variation on the theme theme, with most of the fun stuff in the clues, although the grid is certainly not innocent of Bacchic content.  Congratulations are probably due: this must be the louchest crossword so far this year.

Inevitably surfaces are to the fore, and I can’t say that many of the constructions struck me as especially unusual or noteworthy.  27ac was the sneakiest, alas, but there’s no way that’s going to be CoD on my watch.  Dearie me … no.  2d is inherently amusing; 11ac is surprising, and 17d tickled me especially when reminded by one of the Fifteensquared commenters that it refers to Homer Simpson’s favourite beer.  However, I think we’ll have 14d:

“Private chap after a Martini drinker’s job? (6,5)”

Good-oh.  An enjoyably lively sort of puzzle with the emphasis on entertainment, which appears to be Hoskins’ main priority.  We’re back to Dry January 2017 for the original blog:


Heavenly deductions are what I thought I was going to need to rely upon for a long time with this week’s offering, my solving abilities such as they are having found themselves to be somewhat stretched. This was a week, you see, when the chances of being able to fill the grid seemed remote, never mind fathoming the endgame.

Solving conditions could best be described as being fair – sunny, with a nice spot out of the breeze, and a home-made lasagne being prepared in the kitchen. Conditions so favourable, indeed, that I found myself drifting off to sleep part way through the afternoon, though the rigours of the week and subsequent celebration marking the end of same may have had something to do with that. Oh, and the effort required to slog out one clue at a time, which not surprisingly may have left me a little punch-drunk.

Having failed to parse several, and others puzzling altogether (GEOS notably would only be revealed thanks to the endgame), a lot of hunting through the Big Red Book was required to stagger, eventually, over the finishing line. Though of those that puzzle me, HOREB if correct does the most, the origin of the H despite being required for Elijah’s mountain remaining stubbornly hard to come by.

Thankfully I parsed enough to get the definition given by the extra letters in the across clues, being DIVINATION BY MEANS OF ARROWS, and the subsequent BELOMANCY thanks to Google. Remove the W from BELOW giving the relevant prefix.

At this point I’m sure other solvers twigged what the letters to erase elsewhere were getting at, but I, I didn’t. So that despite having a full set of superfluous words from the down clues, a first erasure of the M from the end of ZOOM and TELESM led me merely to conclude that the first led to “animals”, and the second “boxes” (did I mention that I’m still unsure of some, as the last looks rather iffy).

It would take until Sunday afternoon to work out that we were looking for things MANCY as a result of the erased letters. Being GYROMANCY, LITHOMANCY, CHIROMANCY, etc.

The practitioner to highlight? Well, it was always going to be Crowley or NOSTRADAMUS wasn’t it? The letters erased consisting predominantly of N’s and S’s being the extra push required to help me spot the latter. Who said that preambles are only there to confuse and mislead the poor solver?

Job done, as relieved as I was on realising that my solution to 1700 was unexpectedly correct. Thanks to Dysart and all concerned then for a fine workout that definitely delivered on the value for money front this weekend.


A lively little offering to kick us off this week from Daedalus that seems to have divided opinion back in the day. I must say though that I thought this was a great puzzle with lots of interesting, quirky wordplay, that kept me entertained throughout what was a fairly rapid solve. Needless to say I chucked a fair few in based on checking letters and likely looking definitions, so I may have missed a fair bit, but that is my loss and no reflection on what was a fine puzzle. Last one in today was 7d, which summed up the puzzle in many ways because, once you’d spotted it, the answer was hidden in plain sight, but how long it took me to spot it…

Lots of ticks by the clues today, in fact the sort of number I reserve for some of the i‘s best offerings. With 1ac in close pursuit, my COD nomination goes to 17d – “Like a duck it rises, cutting a duck’s cry short (7)”.

And so to January 2017 for all the answers and parsing of the clues:


A pretty stiff challenge from Alchemi this weekend, with quite a stretch to our vocabularies and general knowledge and his characteristic wide variety of clueing types. Took me longer than average, but thoroughly engrossing throughout and all duly solved with no more than curiosity sending me scuttling off to discover some new things post-solving. NEAT’S FOOT oil comes from the shin & foot bones (not hooves) of cattle (neat); there is a kind of Slav called a SORB, but there isn’t a kind of food called ‘Ambresia’; there was once a CRICKETER called Peter May; a mistle-thrush is also called a STORMCOCK; a person from Yakutsk is called a YAKUT, and like a prawn cocktail you can also order a SEAFOOD cocktail. If you already knew all that, well done, but for me it proved pretty educational.

Some quite specific knowledge of ’70s progressive folk music would have been needed to spot the Phi-like ghost theme lurking in them there lights. The greatly respected Roy Harper had album titles and song tracks dotted around the grid, as spotted by Geebs in the comments at Fifteensquared. I genuinely appreciated the way Alchemi chipped in with ‘but I don’t expect anyone to spot it unaided’; much better than teasing solvers with hints! This was doubtless the reason for our having the extra challenge of a Brompton grid – as Batarde calls a grid of two hingable halves.

Pretty hard to pick a favourite clue today – they were all very good really – but I’m going to plump for the one with the unknown to me Peter May. Here it is again:

28a May possibly credit conspiracy theorist with talking extremely rationally to begin with (9)

And here’s the link for all the answers:

Independent 9,340 / Alchemi

How better to mark the start, in June 2021, of the 2020 European football tournament than with a return to the heady days of the 1966 World Cup? Football, in Crosswordland, is not the unifying force that some of our leaders would like it to be in the country, or countries, of the outside world. Some solvers are left cold by it, whereas others are delighted to see two of their passions combine. But surely England’s winning squad have passed beyond all division and entered into an eternal Valhalla of national heroes.

It’s sort of a semi-ghost-theme, if you will allow such a thing; the themed entries as a whole were not overtly identified, but the clue for WEST HAM, and the three linked entries surely pointed to the possilities to of another seven in the grid (or eight? Would a purist insist on CHARLTON appearing twice?). I was but a boy when I watched the game on the television with my dad, and the names in question were once deeply imprinted on my mind. Most of them I could recall readily, and I needed no list for confirmation. This was certainly helpful in confirming, or even solving, some entries, such as PETERS, clued by “tills”.

There were some obscurities, I believe: OSSA, CHOU and NOODLE, and certainly FLUGAL, my last one in. No doubt these were the inevitable result of the challenge of a theme plus a pangram. I had one unparsed, which was ABOVE ALL. I saw the meat, but failed to see the reversed “lob”.

We have commented previously on pejorative language. I wonder what to make of “inju(n)” in 17a. It didn’t feel good to me. But that apart, this was a splendid and fun crossword, which gave a real sense of satisfaction on completion.

I loved 7a, which is my nomination for clue of the day: “Perhaps look at white dwarf grasses around summerhouse, smell leaves (8)”. Superb clue!

To July 2016 for the puzzle’s first outing: http://www.fifteensquared.net/2016/07/31/independent-on-sunday-1380-by-scorpion/

Well, not only do we have Phi on a Thursday rather than the more customary Saturday, but also it seems an unresolved mystery. Various solvers back in the day had a stab at spotting the theme (should there even be one), but it appears to be a matter still unresolved. Now, I don’t take much of an interest in such things, but I imagine this may bother one or two regulars. 😉 My best guess is that the central blocked out squares are somehow significant, but I could also of course be horribly wrong.

An enjoyable puzzle nevertheless – on the tricky side for Phi I thought, that is unless you managed to solve the longer entries quicker than I did. As it was I laboured for a while over them, clocking up a time in total a little over par for the i. I also failed miserably to parse 14ac and 20ac, but all is explained over on the other side. Other points of interest would be the small number of clues, and a typo at 21ac which did mislead me for a while. No obscurities in the final grid, any difficulty coming from the wordplay alone, which is the way I like them, so a big thumbs up here.

COD? I’ll go with 6d – “Element of weather, one interrupting American leisure and work (8)”.

To January 2017 for the answers and parsing of the clues: