We all have weeks that are rough on both body and soul, that wear us down and make us yearn for the comfort of warm blankets and warmer tea.  The Cru had a week like that, and still brought their A-game for their stories (but the banter... well, it takes a hard turn towards penises at one point, and it never really recovers.  You have been warned.).  Stories feature a man reflecting if his life's great love was worth what it may yet cost him; a grandfather remembered by scents; a spy who was not a spy but may yet turn out to be our only hope; a girl who meets a boy; a voyager on a starship, bound for ports unknown; and a fish. This week's tales are brought to you by The MacBath: LITERARY SOAPS FOR THE DISCERNING GEEK. 
Stories begin around the 11:30 mark.
From Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable:  Scrimshaw. A word from sailing-ship days applied to carved or scratched engraving on shells, bone, ivory and the like, made to while away the time at sea. ‘To scrimshaw’ is to make any ingenious article on board ship. The origin of the word is uncertain. It may be from a personal name.

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