The Irish wolfhound breed, a breed of dog so big it would definitely require a massive dog lounger, is incredibly old and there are suggestions that the breed was brought to Ireland as early as 7000BC, staggering! Cú (which translated variously as Irish hound, war dog, wolf dog, hound...etc) is mentioned in Irish literature and laws as early as the 5th century. Over the course of history, the breed almost died out but was luckily revived by British Army D E Graham who slightly altered the breed which became through his hands the modern breed of Irish Wolfhounds as we now know it.

Often the respected prefix of ‘cú’ was added on the name of warriors to denote their worthiness of respect such as Cú Chulainn (the Hound of Ulster). Captain George Augustus Graham who reaffirmed the dogs’ existence wrote in 1879: “"It has been ascertained beyond all question that there are few specimens of the breed still left in Ireland and England to be considered Irish wolfhounds, though falling short of the requisite dimensions. This blood is now in my possession."

Bolita is a form of lottery which enjoyed great popularity in Cuba and Florida in the latter 19th and early 20th centuries. In Florida it was primarily popular amongst working class black, Hispanic, and Italian communities.

The premise of the bolita game is basically that bets are placed on which numbered ball out of 100 numbered balls will be drawn out of a bag. There were many methods of cheating in bolita. Extra balls bearing a certain number could be put in the bag whilst other numbers were not included at all. Another method of cheating was to fill particular balls with lead in order to make them sink to the very bottom of the bag of balls. Yet another method of cheating was to place particular balls in ice before inserting them in the bag. This would make these certain balls colder than the others and therefore extremely easy for the ball selector to find.

Bolita continued to be played in Florida, though illegal, and is still popular in Cuba though it was illegalised following the Communist Revolution.

On 26 May 1828, a German youth called Kaspar Hauser (30 April 1812 (?) – 17 December 1833) appeared in the streets of Nuremberg in Germany who claimed to have grown up in the complete isolation of a dungeon. Hauser carried a letter to the captain of the 6th cavalry regiment’s 4th squadron written by an anonymous author who wrote that they had taken Hauser into their custody in 1812, taught him reading, writing and the Christian religion but have never let him ‘take a single step out of my house.’

Hauser told Mayor Binder that he had spent his entire life alone in a dark cell measuring just 2 metres long, 1 metre wide and 1 and a half high. He detailed that he had only a straw bed to sleep on and no r4 card but just a wooden horse to play with. Each morning he found bread and water beside his bed which on occasion would taste bitter and cause Hauser to sleep rather more heavily than usual. After such occasions, Hauser would awake with his hair and nails cut and the straw bed changed. A mysterious man who would not reveal his face visited Hauser and taught him to write and brought him to Nuremberg.

Okay, so I'm tryng to figure out what to do for my next job. What do I want to do?

I like to write, edit and manage so I'm thinking of working as an online writer for a publication, though I know just how fierce competition for that can be.

But with all my SEO and web experience I'm pretty confident that if I had a good enough idea for an online magazine or news interest site, with a particular hook, that I could most certainly make it successful. I just need to hone in on an idea and work out the best way to make money on it.

I'm serious about this, I just need a small team. Then if it takes off I could rent some office space and keep it all super casual. I could cycle to my office with my cool colleagues and wear jeans and a t-shirt to work every day instead of a stuffy suit.

Perfect.

Photo: Amazon

I've not heard any more from my landlord about whether or not he's going to let me carry on living here or if he's going to unceremoniously kick me out and give the flat to someone else, but I'm on guard for it.

But the whole debacle made me think about my job. I work really hard, 5 days a week, usually more than 10 hours a day and I always do more on weekends. Yet, I get paid peanuts. If I get kicked out of this flat I literally can't afford anywhere, even a studio flat would be pushing it.

I have absolutely no income protection or security. After tax it's not very much, then I have to pay rent, phone bill, internet bill and whatever I have left goes on travelcard and food. If I'm lucky I might have a few pennies left over to buy a beer once in a while.

Why am I working so hard? I had to sign my car over to my brother's name because I couldn't afford any of the car insurance quotes I found, he's taking it until I can afford it again.

Photo: jessamyn (Flickr)