An Assortment of Arcane Aerial Conveyances

 Ugh. Someone-or-thing over the Cusp has seen Top Gear's British made motors take over the Mall and the Allianz UK school run insurance ad and wants to do an horrific amalgam of the two for the Cusp's inimitable type of transportation insurance.

 I was contacted to see if I could organise a collection of unique, eldritch (to the mortal realm) personal conveyances so that they could be "auditioned" for suitability in an advertisement. I expect you can imagine my sighing and eye-rolling at such a task, but, unfortunately, the person (and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word's meaning) who did the asking knows a certain something about my past - that I'd rather stay in the past - and made it clear that this wasn't so much a request as a requirement.

 Anyway, I managed to gather a small fleet of apterygial AFOs (Arcane Flying Objects) at Northrepps Aerodrome this weekend. It was all very last minute, so I couldn't get everyone I wanted, unfortunately. 

Oh, come off it! You've known about this for weeks.

Yes, but we've been very busy with other important matters!

Yeah, like fannying about with centaurs and tin foil...

 OK, so I was given plenty of time, but my natural procrastinating abilities kicked in with a vengeance. However, it was still quite a sight as a loose formation of broomsticks, hoes & pitchforks, a magic carpet, an elderly Electrolux Model 30, two sensible umbrellas & a parasol, two flying saucers (don't ask) and a Mini-Metro took to the sky and performed low-level manoeuvres under the mostly sober guidance of their pilots.

The very elderly and difficult to manoeuvre Electrolux Model 30

 Everything was going swimmingly - or flyingly, I suppose - until a distant rumble rent the air. I was standing just off the leading edge of runway 04/22 being talked at by one of the nuns who'd arrived in the Metro, when I noticed her wimple vibrating slightly. At first I didn't pay it much heed as the nuns of the Chattering Order of Saint Beryl were capable of talking at such a rate of speed that I assumed the vibrations were a by-product of their loquaciousness. It was only when I noticed her being impressively drowned out by the ever increasing roar that I realised something else was to blame. As she obliviously blathered on, I surreptitiously glanced about trying to find the source of the noise. Soon, the roar was so loud that even she noticed it and changed subject to that of the noise so quickly that I almost suffered with whiplash!

 Suddenly, one of the few low-hanging cumulus clouds burst open to reveal an enormous white dragon, its wings spread and its claws out, heading right for us!

The mythological dragon, Concorde, about to seize its prey

 After that almost heart-stopping moment, I managed to gather my wits (no mean feat as some of them had managed to get quite a distance away) and see the "dragon" for what it really was.
 "Don't worry" I said, attempting to soothe the panicking nun. "Its only Concorde."
 And with that, my wits fled again - along with the nun - as the realisation that 150 tons and 62 metres of 20th century supersonic airliner was attempting a landing on a small village's grass runway that was only built mowed for microlights, light aircraft and the occasional helicopter.

 As I gawped in awed terror, rooted to the spot, the fleet of AFOs scattered to make way for the descending Concorde. Well, I say scattered - most of them did but a few of the slower ones were taking a terrifying amount of time to get out of the way. The brollies and the parasol were the chief culprits, but the ancient Electrolux was the worst. That thing couldn't manoeuvre for toffee and was attempting a starboard turn that made the Titanic look like a London taxi. It just about got out of the way though, its hose earning a clip from the very tip of Concorde's wing as the enormous jet dropped onto the runway.
 The airliner sloughed speed at an incredible rate, its brakes glowing red hot and screeching in protest, with great clods of runway being flung left, right and centre like a rubbish golfer creates divots. Somehow, it managed to skid to a stop before careering off the end of the runway, through a hedge and into the road.
 My heart hammered in my chest as, not two feet away, Concorde's droop nose pointed right at it.
 "Eeep" I said, breathing heavily.


 To be continued in... Don't you point that thing at me!

Witches' thimbles

... or, A Fandango of Foxgloves!

 The gardens of Castlette DeVice are coming along quite nicely thanks to the warm (and wet) weather the North Norfolk coast has enjoyed of late. So, I thought I'd share some of my very favourite late-spring/early-summer flowers: my collection of Foxgloves.

 As well as being a highly toxic essential ingredient of a couple of my staple spells, these foxgloves are also rather lovely to gaze upon as you can see below. As always, just click the image to embiggen.

  I'm hoping there will still be some in flower when it come to 
Mistress MJ's Garden Photo Event later in the summer.

Tin Foil Treachery

 I have recently discovered that one can search the interweb (using such institutions as Google) using images rather than words. It seems that all one has to do is drag an image to the image tab on the search page et voila! other websites hosting the same picture will be displayed, along with similar images, too.

 Imagine my surprise when I found this:

"weirdos" eh? I suppose it takes one to know one...

 The original image and post that it was attached to can be found here.

 And yes, of course I googled all most of the other original images from the blog. Somewhat disappointingly, nothing much of note appeared anywhere else unexpectedly. There were, of course, a few choice images that ended up at MJ the Infomaniac's, but those were hardly surprising.

* mutters something about MJ's 'right-click-and-save' finger being worn down to a nubbin *

 

Booktastrophe

 Due to the catastrophic non-blogging strop that occurred between November 2013 and April this year (not counting the New Year blip - which, come to think about it, was actually about not blogging), I thought I'd better update my "books read" list. As before, this post is a reminder for myselves - you don't have to take much notice of it.

(the end of) 2013

 30. Saga (volume two), by Brian K Vaughan & Fiona Staples
 31. The Crimson Shadow (Star Trek: The Fall), by Una McCormack
 32. Star Trek: Alien Spotlight Volume 1, by Scott & David Tipton, James Patrick, Andrew Steven Harris, Paul D. Storrie, and John Byrne
 33. Star Trek: Alien Spotlight Volume 2, by Arne & Andy Schmidt, Keith R. A. DeCandido, Scott & David Tipton, Ian Edgington, and Stuart Moore
 34. Star Trek: Captain's Log, by Stuart Moore, Scott & David Tipton, Marc Gussenheim, and Keith R. A. DeCandido
 35. Stellar Cartography: The Starfleet Reference Library, by Larry Nemecek
 36. The Poisoned Chalice (Star Trek: The Fall), by James Swallow

2014

 1. The Woman Who Died A Lot, by Jasper Fforde
 2. Protectors (Star Trek: Voyager), by Kirsten Beyer
 3. Absent Enemies (Star Trek: Titan), by John Jackson Miller
 4. Peaceable Kingdoms (Star Trek: The Fall), by Dayton Ward
 5. The Long Earth, by Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter
 6. Not the Royal Wedding, edited by Sean Hardie & John Lloyd
 7. Rise of the Federation: Tower of Babel (Star Trek: Enterprise), by Christopher L. Bennett 
 8. Saga (volume three), by Brian K Vaughan & Fiona Staples
 9. The Man Who Folded Himself, by David Gerrold
 10. After The Golden Age, by Carrie Vaughn 

And still to come:

 ~ The Bumper Book of Dinosaurs, by Keiron Pim
 This is a lovely book that I bought for myself for Christmas. I also bought copies for Babyzilla and The Father, signed by the author of course. After all, You're not the only one who knows people who write books, Tim!
 ~ Federation: The First 150 Years, by David A. Goodman
 A birthday present from that certain media-whore blogger that I've yet to finish. The book that is, not the blogger (although not for the want of trying, mores the pity).
 ~ Rising Son (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), by S. D. Perry
 A book I borrowed off a friend years ago and have now, eventually, purchased a copy for myself. After all, I love me some DS9!
 

Ships of the Line calendar 2015 preview

 Now, I've just got to nip out for a bit, so I'll leave you in The Host's capable hands. I have no idea what he's got planned, but then I don't really care as I'm not going to be here!

~ ~ ~

 Right. With Witchface out of the picture, I can show you this: 

(click to embiggen - that goes for all the following pictures, too)

Star Trek: Ships of the Line calendar 2015 (front & back covers)

Oh, good grief!

 Quiet you! And what are you still doing here? Why didn't you bugger off with Witchface?

Someone had to keep an eye on you!

 Can't you keep yourself entertained with my SubConscious while I do this?

Oh, no! I'm not being saddled with the Wicked Witch of the Worst. Besides, I want to look at the pictures.

Fine! I'm off. I know when I'm not wanted. This looks like it's going to be dull anyway, and what does a witch need with a starship?

 Thank gods for that...

 Right. Where was I? Oh, yes. Starships!
 In a couple of months, next year's Star Trek: Ships of the Line calendar will be released by Universe Publishing. And like last year's fine example, this one is packed to the plasma vents with new and rarely seen Starfleet starships and space stations.

 

A separated Sovereign-class starship
and McCall-type shuttlecraft.

Klingon K't'inga's at DS9

Daedalus-class starships firing missiles

 

The Vesta-class USS Aventine

An early preview of the USS Demeter

I'm particularly excited to see John Eaves' painting of a Sovereign-class starship undergoing saucer-separation (possibly the USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E). Some others of interest are a Luna-class ship (the USS Titan?) approaching a Watchtower-class space station, a moon-base attacking a small fleet of ships which includes what looks like a Sabre-class starship, a squadron of Klingon ships docked at Deep Space 9, and three Daedalus-class vessels during the Earth-Romulan War.

 While I feel we have been spoiled with such variety, I am a little disappointed that the beautiful Vesta-class USS Aventine does not make an appearance in this calendar, especially as it featured quite heavily in the recent novel series The Fall. And while I'm griping, I would have loved to have seen an image by Mark Rademaker; either Project Full Circle's Theophrastus-class USS Demeter, or the entire Full Circle fleet (which does include the aforementioned Vesta-class). Apparently, Mark was close to getting an entry into the 2015 calendar, but didn't have enough time to finish it. But just look at the unfinished version - Captivating!

"Search for Dilithium" Mark Rademaker's concept image featuring
the Merian-class starships USS Planck and USS Curie

 Well, that's it for now, although I'm toying with idea of a series of "Starship of the Month" posts, so don't go thinking that I've got this Star Trek stuff off my chest and that you'll never have to see the like again!
 

Happy birthday Beast!

Almost forgot - Sorry Beast. You can thank Ms Scarlet for the reminder.

Bee swarm

 There I was, sitting at my desk reading through old blog posts, when a buzzing noise, not unlike a small aeroplane flying overhead, briefly distracted me. Initially, I paid it no heed since we live rather close to Northrepps Aerodrome and resumed my wonderment at all the instances in which MJ and Beast not only agree with one another, but also laugh at each other's comments.

 However, the buzzing persisted, even growing more strident and sounding a lot closer, so I looked away from the screen and out of the open window.

 Eeeeeek!

 The house was surrounded by swarming bees! I immediately thought of that hokey old film with Michael Caine in it, then that we were suffering from some sort of biblical plague signalling the apocalypse. My hand to my mouth, I checked my infernal calendar, only slightly relieved to discover that the apocalypse wasn't scheduled until 25th J-

Shhhhh!

Oh, yes, the mortals are not supposed to have prior knowledge. Sorry!

 Where was I?
 Oh, yes: abject panic!
 Immediately, I  set about closing all the windows and got the binoculars out to see if I could find Oprah Winfrey lurking in the neighbourhood directing her army of killer bees.

 By this time, the bees had tightened their swarm and were hovering over the trampoline in the garden of the house opposite (commoners), and Oprah was nowhere in sight. As I stared, somewhat enrapt, the swarm slowly moved to a nearby pine tree (obviously feeling the trampoline was a class or two beneath their social status) where they settled.

 So, now what do I do?

 

Weight loss the Infomaniac way!

 Another resounding success from the Infomaniac House of Beauty and its affiliates!

 After having her teeth seen to at Dr De Vice's Dental Clinic, she was advised to cut down on the sugary foods to keep them in tip-top condition. Enrolling in the Infomaniac House of Beauty's diet program, she lost so much weight she couldn't believe her eyes, so they were promptly (and inexpensively) removed.
 Now all she needed was a trip to the Hair Hall of Fame for a kicky new 'do!

De-nymphing the dishwasher

  I took afternoon tea yesterday with Brigadier General, the Baron von Vinculum and my distant cousin Svaathor Da Vijs. We met at Lily’s Tearoom at Hadfields Garden Centre in North Walsham for one of their delicious (and very reasonably priced) cream teas. The Ladies of Lily's were very accommodating and didn't bat an eyelid when I arrived with a posh steampunkesque old man and a massive centaur rather than Inexcuseable and her husband as is usual. The cook even offered Svaathor a sugarlump on her outstretched hand while we waited for some patrons to vacate the sofas in the corner (as Svaathor couldn’t fit his hulking carthorse-type frame at any of the little tables).

 When the waitress brought our tea and scones over, she set everything out on our table and offered another sugarlump to Svaathor. He nibbled it off her palm but almost immediately afterwards grabbed her small hand in both of his shovel-sized ones and gasped in shock (rather unnecessarily in my opinion).
 "My lady!" he exclaimed to the now rather apprehensive waitress. "Look at the state of your hands! The skin is red-raw and dry. It doesn't match the delicate, fair skin of your lovely face." He always was a bit of a charmer. "What ever have you been doing?"
 "Well", she blushed and pushed an errant strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, almost-but-not-quite fluttering her eyelashes, "we've been having a bit of a problem with our dishwasher so I've been washing up by hand."
 "By hand? A lady such as you shouldn't have to stoop to such a menial task. Don't you have a kitchen boy for when such things occur?"
 "Unfortunately not. This is only a small operation, you see, so most days it's only me and the cook."
 Svaathor harrumphed. "So, what's wrong with your dishwasher?"
 The waitress looked slightly uncomfortable, as if she didn't want to say, but after clearing her throat and looking the three of us over she answered. "Well, I suppose I can tell you without fear of being ridiculed: There's a young lady in it. Without any clothes on!"
 I rolled my eyes as the baron muttered something about the youth of today and poured himself some tea. Svaathor just sat back with a knowing look on his weathered but handsome face.
 "My lady" he said, rising from the sofa, "perhaps I can help? Lead me to this occupied dishwasher of yours" and the two of them disappeared around the corner and into the tearoom's kitchen.

 The baron slurped noisily at his tea and I buttered, jammed and creamed my scone to within an inch of its life as we studiously ignored the grunting and thrashing sounds coming from the back. A particularly unexpected and shrill "Ooh!" surprised the baron so much that his monocle fell out, but he put it back without a word. The following face-slapped-by-a-wet-fish sound was expected at this point, so we continued with our cream tea in a civilised manner, commenting on the weather as was right and proper.

 When Svaathor returned to join us, wiping the fish scales from his face with a napkin, the baron rummaged around in his bag eventually producing a brightly labelled bottle that he held out in front of us in his rather shaky grasp.
 "Perhaps next time" he said with a touch of exasperation, "you could just use this*."

*Also suitable for washing machines, showers & pool filters

  

Not the Royal Wedding Anniversary

 On my way back from Indescribable's (I was there for Babyzilla's birthday on Sunday), Inexcuseable sent me a text saying that we were nearly out of milk. I also remembered that the dishwasher still needed de-nymphing and so I popped to the supermarket near Sandringham to get the milk and de-nymphing solution.

Inexcuseable's husband getting accosted by nymphos as he fishes
an errant teaspoon out of the dishwasher's filter.

 Remind me never to stop there again.

 When I entered the store, there was a contingent of old ladies blocking the fruit & veg aisle, so I nipped down the hairnets & dogfood aisle reasoning that it'd be clear as the old ladies were already engaged. And I was right. Almost.
 A balding old man with unfortunately large ears stood in the centre of the aisle seemingly weighing up two cans of pet food. As I neared him, I could see that he was actually trying to decide between flavours of Mrs. Majesty queen food. In one hand was Ossifrage & Hummingbird flavour, and in the other, the new (I could tell it was new by the bright yellow "New!" star on it) Otter & Flamingo flavour.
 After shoving past him, I made my way to the toiletries aisle as I had a feeling I was nearly out of shaving gel. Unfortunately, they only had womens shaving foam, so I bought a small can, turning the label so I couldn't see Helen McDermott's suspender elastic staring back at me from the basket.

Helen McDermott in her early career as a model/strumpet

 Later, I got held up behind the old coot from the hairnets & dogfood aisle as he led his cocktail sausages from the checkout to the exit.

Fresh Battenberg Brand sausage meat

 To make matters worse, on the way out the carpark was annoyingly thronged with peasants milling around aimlessly.

Where in blazes did one park the blasted carriage?

 Oh, and I forgot the milk!

Easter egg

 We are never getting eggs from the "farm" up the road again!

 Inexcuseable came back from her walk earlier with a box of half-a-dozen eggs. There's a house up the road where one can buy fresh eggs that come from the multitudes of chickens that scratch around up there. I think she's trying to be more "country".
 Anyway, she plopped them on the side and promptly went outside to get the washing in. I, meanwhile, had just finished de-nymphing the dishwasher (a story for another time) when I heard a rustling from the eggbox. Edging cautiously up to it, I reached out and flipped the lid open. Five of the six pale brown mottled eggs were sitting in their little pulped-paper nests not moving at all. The sixth was jumping around like a child on a tartrazine high. It was all very Ghostbusters!
 As I debated what to do, the egg cracked open sending tiny pieces of eggshell flying across the kitchen and revealed a coiled up something inside. I leaned in closer, squinting, wishing I had my reading glasses to hand. 
 Suddenly, the thing sprung out, launching itself at my face! It was a basilisk!
 I leapt back and flailed at the writhing creature with a teatowel (the only thing immediately to hand), attempting to keep it at bay and it's deathly gaze off me. By pure chance I accidently dropped the cloth, which landed over the monstrous little serpent. Quickly scooping it up, I elbowed the waste-disposal unit switch on and shook out the teatowel over the sink. I smiled in grim satisfaction as the basilisk fell into the grinding metal teeth and was smushed to smithereens!

 While I leaned back against the fridge catching my breath, Inexcuseable walked back in with her washing, completely oblivious as to my narrow escape. She looked over at the noisily churning sink then switched her sights on me before sweeping out of the room. Over her shoulder she said:
 "Next time, remember to run the water when you use the waste disposal unit."

Something under the bed is drooling

 Ug. So tired. 

 I didn't sleep very well last night having been woken from dreams of things I can no longer remember by several large thumps and bangs, followed by the bed shaking. I thought it was another earthquake.

 I was wrong. It was much more serious.

 There was a monster under the bed.

It's eyes... Like gimlets!
(Artist's impression. The actual monster may vary)

 The bloody thing was eating breakfast! So, not only did I have to deal with the chomping of massive jaws and crunching of bones, but also the rivers of drool seeping into my carpet.

 As I staggered out of bed leaving the monster to its meal, I tried not to think about the devastation that was sure to await me downstairs. I mean: can you imagine the carnage caused by a sizeable monster dragging a kid through a cat-flap, and the state of our pots & pans cupboard as it rummaged for one big enough to fry a rather overweight child? 

 Le sigh.



And, yes, now that I'm up, I'll get on with those final articles from wwwWOW!