The end of an awful fortnight

Slightly over, actually, but now I am at last properly mobile though walking is still uncomfortable - some of that may be due to some muscles not being used properly for two weeks.

I have never been more grateful for the internet. How else could i have written five chapters with all the incidental research involved, giving a new twist to this part of the story? How could I have checked the medieval forms of the names of Burgos, Zaragoza and Barcelona? How, for a critique of another group member's story, could I have checked the nature of Venetian? Come to think of it, until Manchester Central Library is back in full operation, this would have been well nigh impossible even if I were fully mobile.

Cue for rant: if I, with no more than a general interest in a period, can check facts with a few clicks, why the blazes can't the writers be arsed to do some basic research into what is supposed to be their period? Yes, I know about the fallibility of Wikipedia, but no reference work is perfect (see Christopher Tietjens' tabulation of the errors in the Encyclopaedia Britannica) and it's generally sound on broadly non-contentious matters. Even if you're stuck on your backside as I've been for the last two weeks, you can nose out an amazing amount of detail. THERE IS NO EXCUSE. If you're writing for an online group, well, obviously you have access to the internet.

ETA: there is one excuse, and that is the famous "unknown unknown". However, once attention has been drawn to it, it becomes a known unknown.

What do superheroes do about their clothes?

Scene: A telephone booth at night. A woman is on the phone. Suddenly there is a rapping on the door. She tries to ignore it but the rapping becomes more insistent. She covers the mouthpiece.

Woman: What is it?

Man's voice: Excuse me, ma'am, but are you going to be much longer?

Woman (who had been enjoying her conversation and doesn't want to end it) If your call is urgent, there's another booth just up the block.

Man: I don't want to make a call, I just want to get my clothes.

Deeply embarrassed, the woman hurriedly ends her call and flees, averting her eyes. Also embarrassed, Superman dives into the booth to retrieve his Clark Kent gear.