Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Crop circle navigation
Oh, there you all are! Your Demon Boxes caught up, then?
This post is a bit of a gripe, to be honest. It's all because I got temporarily misplaced* the other day while flying back from Indescribable's...
There was I perched elegantly on Broom, ascending to 8000 feet hoping to rise above the thickening cumulus clouds, and therefore the rain, when I was rudely intercepted by a couple of yobs on a hoe. They came careering out of the cloud cover, yelling and jeering, and not taking a blind bit of notice of where they were headed. Unfortunately, their heading was me. I scrunched my eyes shut and swerved, gunning Broom's acceleratrix and altitudonator, just about managing to soar upwards and out of their erratic flight path. It was a close call as they rocketted past - So close that I could smell the stench of sweat and absinthe that emanated from them.
I opened my eyes just in time to notice the clouds at point blank range before hurtling into the damp puff of white with a very delicate whumph.
Eventually, Broom carried me up and out of the cumulus cloud, moist and squinting from the glaring reflected sunlight. I skimmed along the top for what seemed an age before the cloud fell away beneath me, revealing land far below. Land that I didn't recognise. Bugger.
Slowing down, I scanned the farmland beneath me from horizon to horizon, looking for a sign that I recognised. After ten minutes or so, I saw what I was looking for way off to the south-west, and arced around towards it.
As I got closer, I realised that my target was not what I expected:
A crop circle that told me nothing. Nothing! It was a fake! Genuine crop circles are utilised by the arial denizens of Cusp, and those of us - let's just say "not quite alive" - in the more mortal realm, as a navigation aid when venturing further afield than our normal local air-space.
After the air around me had gone back to normal following its blue turn, and still almost incandescent with rage, I headed north-east towards what looked like a grey ripple in the landscape that I hoped was a road. It was!
Luckily, dusk had fallen by this time, so I descended far enough to see the road signs, hoping that no one below could see me in the falling darkness. Nearing a sign on the east-bound carriageway, I noticed that I was only a couple of miles from Devizes (must have been named after an ancestor). Drat! I was hundreds of miles off course. Bloody Warlocks!
And bloody crop circle hoaxers! They think they're so clever creating their ever more elaborate signs, but they're not clever enough to realise that some of us rely on crop circles for navigation and that their uppance will come.
And don't even mention those blasted aliens and their tawdry copies!
* Definitely not lost. Witches never get something as common as lost!