Tails and Orbs and Fairy Rings

 Just dropping off some photos from a couple of Bitey walks (as vaguely requested by The Very Mistress, here): the sun setting over the trees set are from Saturday, and the fairy ring and sea set are from lunch time today.  The musical accompaniment - "Locked Out of Heaven" by Bruno Mars -  is only featuring because it popped into my mind while swimming this morning.

Orb!  Or Camera artefact...

TEC vol. VI: The Uncovered Somethingorother...

Continued from . . . PART 5 of The Epic Collaboration

Because our last effort made some people very confused/cross/consider legal action,

Ms Scarlet had to turn part five into a very short recap of what's happened so far.

And there are still threats of legal action!

So, in an effort to make things clearer-

A futile effort, methinks.

Well, yes, but let's give it a try okay?

Oh, okay.  Carry on, then.

Right.  Where was I?  Oh, yes: In an effort to make things clearer, think of this part as

volume six in an ongoing book series.  A volume that only has four quite short chapters.

And they look longer than they are because of the pictures and the music video.

'Music video'?  Christ.  You sound like you're a hundred million years old!

Well, what would you call it, then?

Um...

I knew it was a mistake to involve the SubCs in this!  Let's just get on with it.

Fine.  Are you putting the chapters in, or am I?

You are.

C H A P T E R   O N E

 "Oof!" said Mago as he extricated himself from a collection of now crushed and broken lily stems.

 "What happened, Mr Device?!" said an annoyed sounding clump of Eucomis zambesiaca with a Dinah in it.  Miraculously, all flower spikes were still fully erect.

 "Ow" I replied, trying to unpick myself from a very thorny 'Gertrude Jeckyll'.  Again.  Albeit in someone else's garden.  "Sorry, Dinah.  Sorry, Mago.  That story change wave-front came out of nowhere, and that reinitialisation so soon afterwards was totally unexpected."

 "Wo sind wir?"

 "Up someone's back passage, by the look of it" Dinah said hauling herself out of the Eucomis.

Someone's back passage.  German and Australasian not pictured

 "My back passage!" a stern voice announced.  Yikes!

 "Our back passage, dear" a second voice corrected.  "Why is there a witch in our rose bush?  And why are there Tupperware boxes strewn around the garden, a muddy welly in the fuchsias, and a bath mat in me Wine Time Corner™?"

 "And a German in the lilies, and an Australasian of sorts in the Eucomis, hmm?  Why, indeed?" 

 It was Jon and Madam Arcati, of course.  Not the German and Australasian, the new, and rather ticked off voices.

 "Ah.  Hello.  Um..." I said addressing our unwitting hosts.  "Sorry.  We hit rather a lot of story change turbulence when Ms Scarlet fast-forwarded the story somewhat unexpectedly.  The poor bath mat wasn't designed to cope with such stresses.  As you can see..." I gestured at the partially flattened garden.  "Sorry."

 "Diese Lilien smell of urine" Mago muttered.  "I smell of urine."

 "We'll see about that" Jon said, reaching for the hose again. 

Muddy Meanderings and an Octopus Sucker Bath Mat

Continued from ... When Worlds Collide and a Pair of Striped Tights

 "STOP HER!!!" I shrieked screeched yelled, mindful of The Very Mistress's observation about my apparent tendency to 'scream like a girl'.

 "Who are you shrieking at?" the aforementioned Very Mistress enquired.  Well, her be-tighted legs appeared to as they hung from the bUbble Haze™, anyway.

 "Yes" said Dinahmow as she used her wand to lift up the edge of the drape that was covering me.  "I'm hardly likely to stop Ms Scarlet as I helped her to leave, and Mistress MJ is just a pair of stripy legs."

 "Well, maybe Beaky could?"  My blood suddenly ran cold and I looked around wildly.  "Where is that dratted bird, anyway?"

 "Oh, he flew off.  But don't worry, I'm sure he'll be waiting for you when you get home!"  If it was possible for legs to grin evilly, The Very Mistress's legs did so.

 "Hmmph!  I'm sure" I said as I threw off the drapes and got to my feet, kicking aside a muddy Wellington boot that Ms Scarlet must have used to trudge across her swamp lawn.  "So, where did you send Ms Scarlet, Dinah?"

 "Oh, up Jon's back passage."

 "Award winning back passage" The Very Mistress's legs corrected.

 "Yes, award winning back passage" Dinah said.

 "Right.  Then that's where we'll go.  I just hope we'll all fit?

 "Up Jon's back passage?" The Very Mistress snorted.  "There'll be room to spare!  Besides, I'm not going."

 "What?  Why not?"

 "Because I'm not getting paid enough, nothing's been disinfected, and the longer I spend here the more chance there is of someone mentioning the C word."

 "The C word?  But you have no qualms about saying cu-"

To Hoe, Or Not To Hoe?

 Not to hoe, obviously.  I don't ride hoes as I don't want to be mistaken for a warlock (although I do wear hoodies).  Warlocks tend to be vain and self-aggrandising, and a little bit dim fortunately, otherwise - if they stopped thinking about themselves for a mere micromip - they could cause a lot more bother than they already do.

 Anyway, enough about those hoes, let's have a look at how the allotment is doing, shall we?  If you make it all the way to the end, I'll treat you to a couple of hoes, and there may even be a bit of a rake!

14th May

In the fruit cage are some horrible redcurrants.  They're so sour and pointless - I hate them!  Despite pretty much ignoring them, they just keep growing and cropping, growing and cropping.  Bah!

Behind the currants is a cherry tree and a row of raspberries

Young greengages

Bluebells and Black Shuck

 Another weekend, another round of clear skies and sunshine.  Although, the North-East wind is keeping things cool here, and we could do with some rain because everything needs watering.

 Still, I shouldn't grumble as its conducive for ambling around the countryside, demon dog or no!

The way up Toll's Hill is lined with bluebells

Behold!  The terror that is Black Shuck!

 

 On remote costal tracks in North Norfolk, beware of Black Shuck - a terrifying demon dog that will leap into your arms and expect to be cuddled like a baby while he licks your ear.  Until - after about three seconds - he gets bored and wriggles out of your grasp to go and investigate a nearby hedgehog turd or similar.

The tinsel is a dead giveaway...

 Oof!  I'm back!  Well, briefly, at any rate.

 I've had some things to deal with which is why I've been, well, not here...  And despair at the state of the world is only part of it.  Signs of an impending infestation of unicorns, and that little shit Beaky skulking around the garden have been of more concern...

.  .  .

 But first, to accompany your scrolling, here's another almost certainly miserable* song from my favourite glum, beardy miseryguts, White Lies: "Time To Give"

* I try not to listen to the lyrics, remember?

.  .  .

 Anyway, back to the topic at hand: Beaky.

This was the view from my kitchen window this morning.  Looks okay, doesn't it?

Until you notice the blurs of black on the bench and birdtable...

IDV's [redacted] Winterval Panto! (Part 2)

Continued from... IDV's Wonderful Winterval Panto! (Part 1)

No.  I'm not doing anymore narrating.

You'll have to get someone else to do it.

But, Very Mistress...

No!  There was more to do than you led me to believe,

and having to do it all in italics as well is too much!

Well, who else can I get on such short notice?

Who hasn't had a part yet?  Ms Nations?  Rimpy?  Melanie?

I bet Upton would be very good? 

Americans?!  Has that Jameson's gone to your head already?

The Great British public won't have bloody Americans

narrating a panto!  No. They can be the Audience.

You snob!  Well, what about Mago, then?  He's just had

his eyes done so reading the script will be a good test.

And Dobbin's not really in this part, so he's free.

Mago...?  Hmmm... Yes.  Mago!

High above the land in a castle floating amongst the clouds, lived a giant.

In diesem Moment in the castle's great hall, the giant was enjoying a breakfast of Ferrero Rocher freshly laid by his golden goose foil-covered droid while being half-heartedly seranaded by his golden robot harp.  The castle's Very Mistress, Fetchsleep, was ensconced in her fainting web, trying - und failing - to get a bit of shut-eye...

 

 "Ah, isn't Jack beautiful?  I just want to eat him all up!  When do you think he'll get here?"

 "Sigh... I really couldn't say - I'm not the one sat in front of the crystal ball!  And when I said no more narrating, I didn't mean for you to cast me in the story instead.  I need my beauty sleep to be ready for legions of punters once I don the Infomaniac Mistletoe Belt Buckle.  So, has he discovered the Cobaeanstalk?"

 "No, not yet.  I've been watching him for hours and haven't even caught a glimpse of his maypole yet!"

 "I'm not surprised - It is December, after all.  What's he doing now, then?  Like I care..."

 "It looks like he's lolling about in bed.  Or riding some sort of sea monster?  It's difficult to tell as the picture in the 'ball isn't very clear."

 "Well, wake me when something interesting happens."

 "Righto.  Golden Harp?  This music is a bit lacklustre - can you play something else, please?  And nothing Christmassy."

 "Oh, 'play something else' he says!  If only it was that easy.  Where are my muses, hmm?  Where are all the big, dumb, muscular lunks to stimulate my creativity?  Oh, that's right - you ate them!  If you want me to play with myself and pluck my own strings, then I'll need the stimulus to do so.  'Play something else' indeed.  Easy for you to say having swallowed all my men.  I don't know why I bother?!  Golden Tinfoil Goose droid agrees with me, don't you?"

 "Beep boop."

IDV's Wonderful* Winterval Panto! (Part 1**)

* lit. full of wonder at how this travesty of cliches, assumptions, and lazy writing came into being.

** Fortunately for you, there are only two parts to this.

 

Continued from A Pink Prelude...

 

... And for that 'Grotbags' comment I can do the narrating

reclined on my fainting chaise in the wings?

For the last time: Yes!

Good.  I can't be arsed with navigating shoddily constructed scenery while flouncing about in ridiculous costumes - I've seen what's in store for Jon in wardrobe.

I just want a bit of a lie down with a drink.  Or twelve.

There's a barrel of Jameson's and a straw all set out back.

Now, if you would kindly take your place?

Script!  Where's my script?

Christ!  It's on the chaise!

Please, Very Mistress, the cast - your Infomaniac Drinking Team - and audience are getting restless.

All right.  Keep your knickers on, IDV!

Just remember who you're talking to.

Yes, Very Mistress.

Right.  The narrator is all set.  Places everyone!

Curtain up in five, four, three...

 

In a lightly thronged rural village marketplace-

 

Can half a dozen people be classified as a 'throng'?

Some of them don't even appear to be real people.  Are they cardboard cut-outs?

Of course they're made of cardboard, Very Mistress.

You know the budgets for these things are practically non-existent.

Well, we did have the budget for Savvy to appear in person here,

but she's late as usual, so that's 25 quid down the drain...

We haven't got time for that now!

Very Mistress, if you could continue narrating, please?

Oh.  Yes.  Where was I?  Ah, yes:

In a lightly thronged marketplace we find a young woman- 

Man!

Man?  Is he?  [squints]  Oh, yes, of course.

I forgot that in panto the principle boy is usually played by a female actor.

If we can get on, please?

Just before I do, the script says "a young man" - how young is that then?  20s?  30s?

I only ask because - and I'm not saying that I think she's too...

experienced for the role - isn't that Ms Scarlet?

[sigh] Yes.  It is.  Fortunately, as I'm sure you remember, Ms Scarlet is at least ten years younger here over the Cusp than her birth certificate would have you believe, thanks to that time-travel nincompoopery that occurred over her birthday earlier this year.

Now, if you please?

Of course.  Of course.  Where were we?

Oh, yes, 'thronged marketplace', 'young man':

Anyway, his name is Jack and he's here with his overbearing - and rather garishly dressed, if you ask me - mother, a Dame of some repute, to sell various mud-based artisinal products and some dubious beauty treatments made from butter...

M A G N O L I A

Big Pink Tree!  (Cherry, not Magnolia)

 In the previous post, Mistress Maddie waxed lyrical about Magnolia trees and was surprised to learn that we have them here across the pond.  Well, after I'd finished replying to the comments, I went out for a quick walk around the village (also inspired by a Maddie comment from the last post in March) to get a snap of the Main Road's Magnificent Magnolia.

 Unfortunately, the poor thing doesn't look half as magnificent as last year, as - in its exposed position - almost all of the flowers have been frost and wind-burned.

Blogorati Stars: Who's Next?

 This is the post I was working on before yesterday's walk in the snow photos (and that tit killing) usurped it.  Some of the comments from the last Blogorati Stars post (featuring 'Petra) got me thinking about how to get more of you lovely Blogorati into the night sky.  Short of launching you into orbit aboard Ariane 5, that is...

 As only two of you - the aforementioned 'Petra and the inestimable Mago - actually appear in the IAU's list of approved star names, some plotting scheming unconventional thinking is required to get the rest of you up there.  For example, Melanie Reynolds used to be known as Proxima Blue - in her words: "inspired by Proxima Centauri, yes I know its a red dwarf, shush! You don't know her heart." - so why not work up a star map of the constellation Centaurus and pop Melanie in there in place of Proxima?  Because I can't see it.  Centaurus is too far below the ecliptic for me to see its nether regions (where Proxima lies), so there'll be no photos and, therefore, no star map.  We'll have to come up with a different star.

The largest erection up Madam's Lane is obscuring Scorpius' tail

And her bush is obscuring what little of Centaurus that might be visible

Isn't It Drafty In Here?!

 It was while dragging a draft post about books into 2021 and getting it fit to be published, that I noticed that there were 1300 posts on this blog.  But, upon closer inspection, 16 of them were drafts, so it'll be at least a couple of months before I hit that nice, round 1300 published posts.

 I pondered deleting the drafts as some of them are bloody ancient, but I thought I might actually finish them off one day and publish them.  Then I got to wondering if anyone else has a load of half-finished (or less) posts languishing in their "drafts" folder.  So, do you?  If I show you mine, will you show me yours?  I hope so, because here are mine:

 Out of these first five, I'd just about managed to get "Books" in some sort of order, but I've ruined it with some questionable font/size choices, so that's going to take some unravelling.  Then, I'm preparing for this years "Coven Awards" as I had an idea for a revamp which means taking note of things as they happen, rather than trying to remember stuff in a panic half-way through December.  There's also some preparation for a trip over the Cusp for "Ms Scarlet's Birthday" in March - but the rest of that post depends on whether we get this pandemic under control and the Cusp opens its borders.  Obviously, "Isn't It Drafty In Here" is this post, which just leaves "It's a Faake! prose" - which I will probably delete it as it's only a half-arsed Star Trek story that, despite the Jan 3 date, has actually been hanging around since at least Feb 2019 (which is the penultimate time that I edited it).  The only reason it's still hangning around is that I've been using it to upload images to my Blogger gallery, and Jan 3rd was the last time I did that...

"It looks like she spontaneously combusted at the muff!"*

 After the "success" of my last repeat post, I thought I'd give it another go with these two - yes, two! - re-runs from 2007 and 2010 respectively (these were the ones I was going to do before Beast and Tim stole the show).  I think they're quite appropriate for the circumstances that we find ourselves in, as they illustrate why one should keep one's distance from others as one never knows what may happen...

Bang!

I only tapped her on the shoulder to ask if she wanted a coffee and she spontaneously combusted.

She could've just said 'No, thanks'.

Silly cow always has to be centre of attention...

 

* I loved Piggy (mayherestinpeace) & Tazzy's comment on the original post so much that I thought I'd use the first part of it as this post's title.

::

and: The Gunpowder Plop

She said she was bursting for the loo.

I didn't realise she meant it literally until she exploded.

 

I told her that smuggling gunpowder would be her undoing.

~o~

 And there you have it for another day.  And another month - See you in December!

 Although, after this month's flurry of activity (November hasn't been this productive since 2007!), don't expect much to be going on next month - two or three posts at a push, I should think?  Especially as I shall be working almost non-stop on the Coven Awards - the panic that the end of the year will soon be upon is is beginning to set in...

There's Nothing On But Repeats

 As Ms Scarlet seems to have much success with repeats of old blog posts, I thought I'd give it a go, too.  I had found a couple of rather old, explosive posts, but the return of Beast and Tim brought something else to mind: a trip over the Cusp starring none other than the two Blogorati of yore:

Witches Getting on Beast's Wick

(first seen nearly ten years ago for Beast's birthday)

 It didn't take long for the blood to stop rushing to his brain and the almost overwhelming nausea and vertigo to fade.  As the gold and blue fireworks cleared and his vision returned, he noticed the vast expanse of reeds around him and a distant mansion at the end of a sweeping gravel driveway.

 There were voices, too, in mid-conversation:
 "Of course, I wouldn't know a snowy egret if I were pissing on one. Lunch?"
 "I think it's a little late in the season."
 "For lunch?"
 "No, pissing on birds."
 There was a pause which was when he realised that the two, very familiar, conversationalists were staring at him.  Quickly taking in his surroundings, adding two and two together and resignedly coming up with four, he despaired and his shoulders fell.

  Oh, no, Beast thought to himself.  Oh, please no.   Outwardly, he sighed at the realisation that he'd been dragged over the Cusp again without so much as a by your leave.  It was his bloody day off from Cafe C and here he was, over the bloody Cusp in bloody Eastwick, dressed as bloody Fidel to do the bloody bidding of Tim bloody 'Van Horne' and 'Alexandra' bloody DeVice.  Plus the rest of the bloody Coven, no doubt.  If he'd surmised correctly, they were at the point in the story where Van Horne had invited Alex for lunch - read: banquet - which he, as Fidel, was to prepare.  Bloody.  Hell.
 And to make matters worse, this was yet another non-speaking part.  And on his birthday too!
 By this time, the stares had turned into baleful gimlet glares with no small amount of contempt evident.  Nodding submissively at Tim's unspoken order for an elaborate lunch with which to woo IDV, Beast's shoulders slumped even more as he trudged off towards the mansion kitchens.

A Write Panic Reference: Things on Chairs

 This post is an accompaniment to the A Write Panic blog post, Things on Chairs (which was gathered together and written by me).  It's just a little reference list of the items that feature at the end of my part of the story.
 If you haven't already done so, I urge you to go and give A Write Panic a read.  It is a collaborative blog from the mind of Ms Scarlet (she also set it up and organised it, too!) which features ten talented and enthusiastic bloggers - oh, and me.
 There are no spoilers in this post, so the story won't be ruined if you read this first.  Particularly as these objects are what I imagined were the "things on chairs" at the end of my latest A Write Panic post, but as I didn't describe them with any definition (well, except for the fondant fancy and the Ferrero Rocher), someone else may depict them in a different way.

The spindle shaped vial containing that blue potion, is none other than the Elixir of Life as featured in the film Death Becomes Her.

[image missing]  Unfortunately, I can't show you the pink fondant fancy as it got et.
(I can tell you, however, that it wasn't a Mr Kipling cake, otherwise it would have been a French Fancy)

The towel - a spare on loan from the Beeblebrox Estate - a very useful object (and 100% Egyptian cotton, no less).

The "old clay pot with mould growing inside it" is Daughter of the Fifth House, Lwaxana Troi's, Sacred Chalice of Rixx.  I'm sure the Holy Rings of Betazed were on another chair further down the corridor...

The collection of sea glass is, of course, the glass island that featured at Ms Scarlet's.

The Bottle of Greed is another one of Ms Scarlet's creations, featured here.

The universe cannot be photographed convincingly, so may I direct you to Ms Scarlet's Portrait of a Universe, instead.  A far more comprehensible and erudite interpretation.

I couldn't get a good photo of the Ferrero Rocher because it was so awesomely perfect that Camera could only manage to capture the golden glare from it's exquisite foil wrapper.

And as for the books:

The Days Are Just Packed, a Calvin and Hobbes collection by Bill Watterson, featured here.

Fucked-up Fondues, by that spiteful cow Delilah Smythe, featured here.

neue mobel 6, by Gerd Hatje, featured at Mago's, here.

The Visitors, by Sally Beauman, featured at Ms Scarlet's, here.

::

Read the continuing story of A Write Panic here.

It's A Faaaake! Not The Art Of Star Trek - Brighter Future

 I've been fascinated with Romulan pixmit cards (or pikhmit, according to the Starfleet Museum on Star Trek: The Cruise) ever since they first appeared in Star Trek: Picard. The urge to make a set has been almost over-powering, but life (and laziness) kept finding ways of thwarting me, so I only got as far as cataloguing the cards seen so far.
 That these pixmit/pikhmit cards could be a Romulan take on tarot cards is a good enough reason to finally create some for this month's art challenge (as set by February's winner):

[T]he theme [is] "Looking Forward". Whether it's to the future, to better times, to newer bigger and better starship designs, just something in the Trek universe with an eye toward looking forward to a brighter and better future.

(As with many things on the internet, click the photos to embigulate)

 After settling on a size (9cm each side), I cut out ten triangles from a piece of china coloured card (too thin for proper pixmit but I didn't have any thicker mounting board-like card), and had a play around with pen and ink using the leftover card.  I used a gold metallic marker for the border, dark blue fineliner for the curlicues, and a gold fineliner for the outer text border.  The curlicues were far too big on the trial card, but I just wanted to see if I could do them relatively quickly/easily.  And the border text was too yellow so I had to walk into town to buy a different, darker gold pen.

Sleeping With the Enemy

  Oof!  Here I am!

  Apologies for taking off without leaving a note.  I thought I had, but by the time I realised I hadn't it was too late to go back in time to ensure that I had because there isn't one now.  And there would be one if there had been time.  Which there wasn't, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this.

  Anyway...  Back to the post at hand.

  Despite what the title implies-

I think the Host came up with it?

  Don't look at me!

Well, your irritating little SubC, then.

How very dare y-  Oh.  Actually, it was me.

  Anyway...  Despite what the title implies - whoever came up with it - I was not sleeping with the enemy.  I was sleeping with the Monster Under the Bed.*  Well, not in that sense - I was on top. 
  Which makes it sound like I was sleeping with it in that way.  I wasn't.  By "on top" I mean I was on the bed, while the monster was under it, as is traditional in these matters.
  Anyway, its gone now.  I managed to get it on the NightShip a couple of evenings ago.  I've been clearing up the drool and half-eaten carcasses from under my bed ever since, which is partly why I haven't been around lately.

The Monster Under the Bed
Awwww... Just look at its cute little chitinous claws, and those adorable, puppy-dog-eating eyes!

::

  Plus, I have been caught in a downpour of ideas, so it may be another a few days before I shake them all off and pin them down.  They're mostly Star Trek ideas, so nothing you'd be interested in, I'm sure.
  Although, there is that Panto to see to...


* A refugee from Hallowe'en...

Galaxy

 You probably won't be surprised to learn that I ended up down on the beach again yesterday, mucking about with pebbles and the like.  On the right, there, is my latest creation, "Galaxy".

Poncey, eh?

 Quiet, you!
 Anyway, two days is all it took to scatter my previous spirals, so I put them back together in different configurations, then collected some orange/tan pebbles, and some worn amd broken roof tiles, and created Galaxy and a Tower of Tiles.

Scattered spirals

Tower of Tiles

Well, that didn't last long...

 In what seems to be a new craze here on the North-Norfolk coast, bits of cliff have been flinging themselves down on to the beach with reckless abandon.  Either that or our local powered person (I'm loathe to call him a "superhero" because his powers are a bit crap), Cliff Crumbler (thank you, Mago) has been working overtime (no, I'm not trying to shift the blame - I didn't sneeze).
 Yes, as you might have guessed, that teetering tower of clifftop that featured in the last post is no more!
 But its plummet of doom did expose this rather fascinating series of folds in the cliff's strata:

Trapped in the bath

An unused concept for my Holy Rings of Betazed
Star Trek treasure map

 Oh, dear...  I trapped myselves for too long in a hot bath with the excess time unintentionally used to over-imagine a Blog Map.  The design evolved and grew, eventually galloping away without me, the reins flapping and dangling in its wake*.  It transcended beyond the work of a lifetime, easily casting off the shackles of having to be finished by the end of July.

 Dratted thing.


* I'm not sure why it took on a legged equine form?  Particularly as it came about while I was partially submerged.  A hippocampus would have been more suitable... 

P. S.  The sunset photos will be my next post.  I promise.

Sunday Swim: Bunny Boiling

Overstrand beach this morning

 Don't worry - I haven't gone all Glenn-Close-in-Fatal-Attraction on anyone/thing. Rather, I have partaken in my first sea swim of the year on this, the most boilingest hot day so far.  Last year I didn't fling myself in the drink until mid July (although, back in 2017, I was a day earlier than this year, managing to brave the cold sea on the 1st of June).

 Oh, and for the 'Bunny' bit, just keep going... 

The knobbly old spine of some ancient sea monster plying the depths shallows