W is for Witch

Kyahgirl has charged me with a fun meme. Pick 10 words beginning with the same letter and explain what personal meaning they have. My letter, as you can see is W. Quite fitting, thank you KG!

Witch - Somewhat obviously, I have picked witch as my first word. It's a lot more difficult to explain than I thought it would be. I don't normally think about what it means to be a witch, probably the same as I (and many of you) don't think what it means to be human? Anyway, I don't have to explain myself to you lot - you can just read my entire Blog to get an idea. To keep you going, here's a list of some popular witches.

Warlock - Contrary to popular belief, a warlock is not a male witch. I don't mind being mistaken for one when I'm in a bad mood, though. At least I'm more likely to be left alone.

Wilma - The Host's second pet rabbit. Somewhat ridiculously named after Wilma Flintstone. She was a Netherland dwarf, black on top and white underneath with very dense fur. She was also a miserable little bitch but the Host loved her all the same. She lived in a hutch with the Host's sister's rabbit, Binger, a moronic, solid Netherland dwarf about twice the size of Wilma. Originally, there were a couple of guinea pigs in there too but Wilma used to bite and kick them so they had to be removed.

Wind - I love the wind. From the most gentle zephyr to a roaring gale. The feeling of ribbons of a breeze sliding through my hair or a blustering, forceful gust pushing me about as I walk to work in the morning will have me grinning like a loon in no time. The thought of spreading my arms wide and letting the wind carry me off is almost too much to resist sometimes.

Wiggle - The Host's most recent ex does the most adorable little wiggle of joy when he's pleased. So cute, like a puppy! I'm glad they're still friends as I still get to see it.

Wine - Mmmmm... Wine - a nice Sauvignon blanc from the Marlborough region in New Zealand! Need I say more?

Wednesday - The longest day of the week. Which is probably why it always gets knotted and tangled up with the haddock smelling Thursday. See Shifty's ABOUT ME (her, not me) for the background as she now owns all the rights.

Wichita - I don't mean the place (although I'm sure it's lovely). I mean Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell. A simply beautiful track with haunting strings. Goodness only knows what on Earth it's all about, though.

Wikipedia - A most useful tool for this Blogging lark. Wikipedia has come to my aid countless times. I don't think I could get by without it. Fascinating!

Wisteria - As in Lane. The only thing worth switching the television on for these days. And Lost, of course. Anyway, back to Wisteria Lane and those Desperate Housewives and their hunky husbands & boyfriends! Will Bree ever strangle her vile, ungrateful son, Andrew? Will Susan stop being such a clutz? Will Tom Scavo ever get his kit off again? Please?


There. That's my meme done. I admit it's a bit half-hearted but I'm hungry. If anyone would like a letter just let me know and I'll throw you one.

Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the fourth

Continued from... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the third

 Eventually we reached orbit.

 "Ruddy Hell! It feels like it's taken us eight days and eight hours to get here" Knight moaned.
 "I think we can put that down to the relativistic speeds we were travelling at" I explained, somewhat irritably.
 "Relative to what?" Blacksmith interjected. "The speed of your posting lately?"
 At that, Blacksmith and Knight fell about laughing. I was beginning to wish they would actually fall. Anyone else detect a hint of Stadtler & Waldorf around here?

 I did my best to ignore the two buffoons behind me and concentrated on locating my errant broom. I couldn't help but think of how convenient it was that Knight and Blacksmith had an excuse for a test flight at my expense. I wondered if they put Indescribable up to the task of 'losing' my broom. They did seem somewhat eager to help me...

Oooh, look. A flashback!  

Shut up, you sarcastic sod!  

Aaaarrghhhh... 

Bloody Host's bloody SubConscious! I'll have a flashback if I want. Here it comes...

 I'd left my spare broom at Knight's. I think because he and Blacksmith were going to experiment with it. I thought they'd try and get it to work properly but that was probably naive of me. Knowing those two, they'd be sticking on go-faster-stripes, spoilers, noisy exhausts and the like!

 When I arrived at Knight's, I found that I wasn't far off the mark.

 "I'm glad you're here" Knight said, greeting me with an afterthought type kiss. "We've done all we can so far and need you for the test flight." He beckoned me into the garage.
 "Bugger the test flight! I need my broom now! Indescribable's launched my best one into orbit."
 "Ideal" Knight said, gleefully.
 Looking back on things now, his response should've given me a clue there and then. As it was, all I managed to say was, "Eh?"
 "This can be the test flight - retrieving your broom" he clarified as if speaking to a child. "But we're" and he indicated the semi-clothed Blacksmith "coming too."
 "I see." Oh Good God! "It'd be a miracle if that heap of junk can get me airbourne, never mind you two as well. As for orbit - you can forget it."
 Knight looked at me with that patronising expression on his face. "And how exactly are you going to stay alive up there? What with there being no air and barely even a temperature..."
 "I'd take a blanket and hold my breath" I replied tartly. He just smirked. That smug, irritating git! Grrrr... He's so infuriating! I hadn't worked out the technicalities. I was hoping something would come to me on the way up. "And what could you possibly do to remain on this side of the veil?"
 "Just start the broom and we'll show you..." and he paused for dramatic effect, "The Thaumjammer."

Thank Christ that's over with!

Oh, piss off!

 And here I sit, astride a gnarled old broom with those two to thank for this crappy excuse for an orbital shuttle. The name Thaumjammer evokes a magical, sleek but elegant craft reminiscent of its forebears, the Windjammer and the Starjammer. What a disappointment.

 Out of the corner of my eye I spy my wandering broom passing in front of the gibbous moon. Thank Heavens this little adventure is over with.

 Well. I say over with. We've still got to get down...




 Bugger.

Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the third. Or, Falling Foodstuffs...

Continued from... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the second

 Coming fast through an atmosphere near you:

Meteorite Macaroons

Falling French Fancies

Ballistic Butterfly Cakes

Plummeting Prawn Vol au Vents

Re-entry Rollmops

Hurtling Ham Sandwiches

Free-falling Filo Parcels
Descending Dog Muck Surprise - Oops! That was meant for Anonymous and his/her "Hey. I like your Blog. Here, come to our money grabbing 'You too can earn ten billion dollars in five minutes malarkey' blog". Shit off!

Pelting Peanut Butter Cookies

Barrelling down Breadsticks

Plunging Plum Danishes

Dropping Date Slices 

To be continued in... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the fourth

Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the second

Continued from... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the first

 Before long we were not even half way to orbit. Actually, that's a bit generous. We weren't even a quarter of the way there. I'll skip forward a bit (a lot) - I'm sure you'll get bored silly hearing how the three of us sat in stony silence during the long and tedious ascent. The only points of note were the occasional breaks for a stretch and yawn. Oh, and to work out which Tupperware box the macaroons were in.


Nearly two hours later...


 "Are we nearly there yet?" whined Blacksmith.
 "Who knew Orbit was so far away?"
 "Quiet, you two" snapped Knight.
 I turned and raised my eyebrows at Blacksmith.
 "I saw that! Do you want your broom back or not?"
 I rolled my eyes, disguising it by lowering my eyebrows at the same time, finishing off with a triple salco-ed Inward Pout™ *.
 Knight looked out of the 'window'. "Are we losing speed?" he asked as a whooper swan overtook us from below. "And altitude?"
 I shrugged.
 "Can you find out?"
 "Hold on..." Gripping the shaft in a certain way, I became One With The Broom. Something I hated doing because it always made me feel gnarled and ancient, with a craving for fertile soil and sunlight afterwards. After a few seconds, I replied "Yes. We're too heavy."
 "Bugger. We'll have to jettison some non-essential stuff..."

To be continued in... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the third

* The Inward Pout™ is difficult to describe. Imagine pouting then looking out of your own mouth. That's as close as I can get. It came about during an evening of drinking, talking about Man-On-A-Bike-Man™, Hedge-clipping Boy™ and Cuntface (not ™ as there're loads of people with one of these) with two of my old crones a few years ago. We laughed a lot. Possibly because of the copious amounts of alcohol consumed. Or, possibly because we were all bloody hilarious!

Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the first

Following the events in Sister Blister

 Starting the ancient broom was the hard part. It couldn't hold a thaumic charge for toffee. Gripping the shaft tightly, I channelled some of my own thaumic energy into it, enough to get it jump started. Once on the move, it'd charge itself, drawing thaumic particles from the field intersecting reality with the subquantum layer that permeated almost everything.

 Trying to engage the bristles is like igniting a particularly stubborn and elderly gas fire. One has to turn the gas on and leave it to reach an acceptable saturation level before pressing the ignition switch, more often than not, several times. Each press of the switch would send sparks of electricity shooting up one's fingers, into the radius & ulna, only to discharge painfully at the elbow. If the gas level isn't right, it'd never light. Or it'd explode, blowing away half the front room and most of one's flesh. With the broom, the danger was getting the thaumic charge just right. Too little and nothing would happen - except, maybe, arm ache. Too much and the next thing you know, you're sitting on a lily pad eating flies!

 Well, eventually, the damn thing surged into life, shedding a couple of what I hoped were nonessential bristles on to (Naked) Knight's garage floor. I set it to hover while Knight and Blacksmith made the final preparations.

 Knight stripped naked (again) and generated his psi-armour. He then opened part of his armour and brought his clothes through, putting them on within. Blacksmith lumbered on to the back of the broom laden down with huge chunks of thick metal plate partially covering his massive body. The broom creaked ominously as he got on.

 Knight alighted carefully, opening his armour at various points to engulf Blacksmith, the broom and myself at the front. Knight had pontificated at length as to why he should sit at the front, insisting that he should, what with being the de facto leader of the Supernaturals, or 'Commander' as he likes to put it. And, that the... contraption... we had boarded was his idea, plus it was partially made of/by him.

 I begged to differ. Afterall, it was my broom. I am the pilot and, therefore, need to see where I'm steering, so, obviously, I needed to be at the front. He couldn't argue with my logic. Although he did try for a short while.

 Not being one to admit defeat easily, he proceeded to bring out his Big Gun - No, you perverts*. Not that. It is big, though! - His kicked puppy expression. A look that no one, to my knowledge, has ever been able to resist (which would explain his insufferable but strangely attractive arrogance). So now he's the navigator. An easy job - afterall, how many different ways are there to go up?!

 After getting comfortable. No, not comfortable. Settled. One can never be comfortable on a broom. After getting settled, Knight and Blacksmith did their 'things'. Knight extended his armour around us, creating a many faceted, but sleek, stubby winged shape with only the broom's bristles uncovered sticking out the back, but shielded on either side. Blacksmith then did his metal-manipulating-thing, influencing the metal plates to take on the shape of the translucent psionic shell Knight was generating, leaving gaps in key positions to enable us to see out.

 I turned my head to look at the two men on my long, hard shaft (sorry - couldn't resist). "Ready boys?"

 "Affirmative" Knight replied. I rolled my eyes. Blacksmith just nodded.

 "Right. Here we go!" The broom roared into life and we screamed into the night sky leaving contrails from the tips of the wings. Er... Well... Perhaps not exactly like that. It was more like:

 "Good God this thing is slow. If I lean over I can touch the ground!"

 "Oh, shut up, Knight" I snapped. "This broom is almost older than time. All this extra weight doesn't help either".

 I urged the broom onwards, down the street, slowly picking up speed. Blacksmith adjusted the wing shape and position to give us more lift. By the time we passed Blockbuster Video, we were ten feet in the air and going about 35 mph. A few seconds later, we were level with the gutter over the tattoo parlour. Another few seconds and we just cleared the top of the billboard at the bottom of the street and sailed majestically, I think you could say, into the starry sky at about 60 mph but picking up speed quickly.

 This was going to be a long trip...

To be continued in... Flight of the Thaumjammer - Part, the second

* Piggy & Tazzy, Tickers, Fuckkit, Frobi, Lee, Miss Haversham, in fact, most of my Blogroll. Yes, even you Kyahgirl. You said 'pussy' at P&T's - you're supposed to keep us all in check. Shocking!

Reality challenged

Oof!

I seem to have misplaced myself. Not lost, you understand - a witch is never lost - but currently without reality, inexplicably...

Back soon!

A Tribute to Fuckkit

Yes, I know she's not dead (yet). But when she goes to Australia (she might as well be - all those spiders and snakes and insects and drag queens) who am I gong to bicker with? And race with to be first commenter? And who'll plot their terrible revenge against me when I say something truthful nasty? Or, Heaven Forbid, deny cake to?

Who?!

Alas, dear Fuckkit, I'll have probably forgotten you by the time you get back, so Good Riddance and all that.

Lots of love,

The Wicked Witch of Inexplicable DeVice

P.S. I hope you have a fantastic time. I'll miss you... At first!

* writes letter to the Prime Minister of Australia giving him the lowdown on Fuckkit and how to appease her with cake etc *

P.P.S. Bye

* waves and wipes away a tear *

P.P.P.S. * of joy *

P.P.P.P.S. Shit. Must stop being so nasty.

* wipes away a tear of sadness - really *



Bon voyage, Fuckkit. Get reconnected real soon over in Oz. We can't wait to hear of The New Adventures of Fuckkit!