As if this were not enough for one day, this puzzle also includes a part of the brain with a sexy name. One of my beefs about the brain and the way it has been handled by boffins, is that the way they carve it up, it all sounds too prosaic: all those cortexes, lobes and fissures. So, a big vote of thanks to whoever it was who came up with hippocampus to describe a bit I’d never heard of. I am quietly confident that this was a person with a sense of humour, since it is actually derived from two Greek words – and not from one Greek and one Latin, as I had supposed, like ‘television’ and a number of other words – and means not ‘horse field’ as I had imagined, but rather ‘sea horse of a monstrous disposition’. Brilliant stuff! 36 minutes for me.
And now, without further ado, and an appropriate toast (‘Let’s drink to your health…Nah! Let’s drink to your wealth!), let’s get down to business.
ACROSS
1. CUT-GLASS – ‘refined’; G in CUTLASS.
6. BITTER – BITTER[n].
9. STANDING STONE – TON in anagram* of SEND GIANTS.
10. BRACER – BRACE + R (rupees).
11. TROPHIES – O PH (abbreviation for public house in Ordinance Survey maps) in TRIES.
13. UP IN THE AIR – ‘hazy perhaps’; I’d have thought a ‘hanging’ mist is almost by definition down in the air, but I am going to a wedding later today and have been told to be on my best – least pedantic (it irritates some people, apparently) – behaviour, so I will say no more.
15. PUTT – UP reversed (‘winning’ round) + final letters of [shor]T [sho]T for a nice semi &lit.
16. FAIR – triple definition.
18. BING CROSBY – ‘gentle voice long gone’; CRY SOBBING*. A tribute to the Old Groaner. There’s a nice passing-of-the-baton moment in the duet ‘Well did you evah?’, when Sinatra and Crosby indulge in this interplay of asides: ‘Don’t dig that kind of crooning, chum’ / ‘You must be one of the newer fellows!’
21. PARADIGM – ‘example’; PARA + DIG + M.
22. SWAMPY – MP in SWAY.
23. RUBBER-STAMPED – RUBBER + STAMPED.
25. AMAZON – double definition.
26. SOFT SELL – SO + TS (first and last letters of tastelessness) in FELL. It took me ages to get this, not least because, with checkers, I could only think of ‘safe’ and ‘sofa’ for the first word. Psychologists would have a field day with me.
DOWN
2. UNSTRAP – NUTS* (the anagrind is ‘screwed up’) and RAP (hit).
3. GRAN CANARIA – CAN in GRAN + ARIA.
4. ALDER – medial letters of [m]AL[e] + RED reversed.
5. SINATRA – hidden (and pretty well too).
6. BISHOPRIC – ‘see’; I + SHOP in BRIC[k].
7. TAO – reversal of OAT.
8. ELEMENT – double definition.
12. HIPPOCAMPUS – a slightly mind-bending clue that defies precise analysis while warping lexico-grammatical boundaries. But, credit to the setter, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts…like so much of the best in human endeavour. I will not ruin this by trying to explain it. Savour it on the palate with the second movement of Brahms’s B-flat major sextet.
14. HEBRIDEAN – now, either I have a too limited – or, thereagain, a too overactive – imagination or the setter is indulging in a bit more boundary-bending here. For the only parsing I can come up with is HE-BRIDE (‘man unusually in front of a train [i.e. long back portion of a wedding dress]?’) + AN. Is the reference to a cross-dresser, is this a plug for the LGBT movement more generally, or am I missing something blindingly obvious?
17. ANAGRAM – all this grooviness has clearly addled my hippocampi, as I can’t quite see the requisite anagrist to change something + ‘theme’ into ‘The Times’, if that indeed is what is intended.
19. NEMESIS – final letters of [thi]N [rop]E + ME + SIS.
20. BIPEDAL – ‘able to stand’; initial letters of B[lood] P[ressure] + IDEAL, all anagramatised.
22. STAFF – double definition. Cue football chant: ‘Are you Rufus in disguise?’
24. BOZ – BOZ[o]; Boz was an early pen name of Charles Dickens.
It helped that I knew HIPPOCAMPUS—partly responsible for spacial memory, I believe, and measurably larger in London cabbies than ordinary humans—and I’m happy to’ve remembered BOZ from past puzzles.
Count me as another who hadn’t quite worked out the ANAGRAM in 17d, but now that docjd has pointed it out, it has to be my COD. FOI 16a, LOI 1a.
Thanks to setter and to blogger.
Edited at 2017-05-01 08:05 am (UTC)
Also enjoyed the puzzle and the excellent 17D in particular
Edited at 2017-05-01 08:32 am (UTC)
it’s (this paper’s) + theme, when adapted to make ‘The Times’ would be an example of an anagram (perhaps)
12dn: a “hippo campus” is where wallowers (are) at home when studying. 14dn: a “he-bride” is a man unusually in front of a train. Corny but hey ho.
Oh, and the penny’s just dropped for “long-distance runner”… D’oh.
This took me a very long time indeed, as I gave up after an hour and did laundry instead. I came back and was able to finish, with my LOI the brilliant paradigm. I labored for a long time under the misapprehension that a singing technique was required for 3 down, which didn’t help matters.
We have had the ‘he-bride’ before, but this one is very cleverly disguised.
Now I understand and hate myself for not seeing it. So actually you’ve just ruined my day and I’m going to have to find a dark corner in which to quietly sob.
DNK STANDING STONE, nor the requisite meaning of CUT-GLASS, but neither left much room for doubt.
Good puzzle, COD to PARADIGM. Thanks setter and U.
Many thanks indeed go to Ulaca and setter, I feel all smug now.
This ANAGRAM trick had me completely stumped the first time I encountered it. I’ve gradually got better at spotting it and saw it more or less immediately this time, with the help of a few checkers. This is a great example though.
Nice puzzle, though.