Category: Weird

There’s A Fish At The Door

Today is the day that I learned about the “fish doorbell” in Utrecht, Netherlands.

You might think this is some common thing that was tagged with a quirky name, but you’d be wrong. (Don’t worry about it, I’m often wrong.) It is exactly what the name says: a doorbell (well, not a bell, exactly, but stick with me) that tells lock operators at the Weerdsluis lock on the Oudegracht that fish are waiting to head up or downstream, so they should open the lock to allow the fish to transit.

How do the fish know to ring the doorbell? Don’t be silly. Fish can’t ring doorbells! That’s where you come in!

Point your browser to this link and if you see a fish, click on the button to ring the doorbell.

Crowdsourcing FTW!

Never Forgive Henry Symeonis, That Knave!

So, first of all, I rarely have an original thought, so props for this one go to Kevin Underhill, author of “The Emergency Sasquatch Ordinance” as posted on his blog, loweringthebar.net.

For over five centuries, from 1264 until 1827, students at the University of Oxford were required to swear an oath as part of their Master of Arts degree ceremony. This oath included a commitment that they would “never agree to the reconciliation of Henry Symeonis.”

Well that’s interesting, but who the hell is Henry Symeonis?

Turns out, Henry Symeonis was a wealthy 13th-century Englishman from Oxford, who was involved in the murder of an Oxford University student in 1242. Alongside other townsmen, he was fined £80 and banished from the town by King Henry III. Despite receiving a royal pardon in 1264, the University of Oxford harbored a lasting grudge, mandating for over 500 years that graduates swear an oath never to reconcile with him. This peculiar tradition persisted until 1827, long after the original offense was forgotten.  

I’m sure there’s a lesson in here but exactly what it is, I haven’t quite worked out yet.

Weird Paris: Balloon Mail

A Lifeline in the Sky During the Siege of Paris (1870)

I mentioned the Siege Of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War in an earlier post, so carrying on in that vein, here’s another weird thing that happened during the siege.

When Paris found itself surrounded by Prussian forces during the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, the city faced an unprecedented communication crisis. Traditional methods of delivering messages and mail were impossible, as enemy troops cut off all routes in and out of the city. But Parisians, true to their reputation for ingenuity, looked to the skies for a solution: balloon mail

Over the course of the siege, more than 60 balloons were constructed to carry mail and dispatches out of Paris. These balloons, often made hastily from lightweight materials like paper, silk, or cotton, were manned by courageous aeronauts who braved enemy fire, poor weather, and uncertain landings in occupied territory. Each balloon carried thousands of letters, which would eventually be retrieved and delivered to their intended recipients. In total, over two million letters made their way out of besieged Paris thanks to these daring flights.

One of the most famous balloons, Le Neptune, carried not only mail but also carrier pigeons, which were later used to send messages back into the city—a two-way communication system that helped keep the Parisians informed and united during the siege. However, not all flights went smoothly. Some balloons were shot down, others were blown off course, with a few landing as far away as Norway.

Balloon mail became not just a lifeline for communication but also a symbol of resilience and ingenuity. It demonstrated the lengths to which people would go to maintain connections with the outside world, even in the face of immense adversity.