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Gunpowder makes a fine spice on a cold day. I sprinkled some on my stew in the camp at Azov and took one bite. My ears went off like two small bells, my hair stood up, and my hat hit a passing crow. The cook got promoted on the spot.

Dice betrayed me only once, in a game with a small red gentleman near Lemberg. I lost my hat and won his tail. We traded back at dawn, since it did not suit either of us. He still writes each New Year, and his handwriting is dreadful.

On clear nights the Moon used to sag over my estate. It scraped the chimneys and upset the hens. I climbed up with a hammer and a sack of nails. Six good blows fixed it to the sky. You may still see the dents, though astronomers call them craters to save face.

Up at the North Pole there is a real pole, and I put it there. It was my tent post. I stuck it in the ice one windy night and lost interest by morning. Every ship since has gone looking for it. Someone should really bring me back my tent.

Sea serpents are shy and prone to tears. I met one near the Hebrides.