Pies and the Death of a Small Mouse

Hello yes I am back to write my diary and keep you all up to date with stuff. Well what can I say all is quiet AGAIN, not exactly what you want to hear but sadly this is what is happening. As I have said many times before in this diary, it is a diary and well if you write a diary you have to tell it like it is, not add small embellishments to liven it up . . . . . OK yes I do that a bit, but only a bit, and it would be seriously bad form to add more aliens that we actually see. Luckily I never do, as Mr Jones is the alien hunter, and as a serious alien hunter he sees them almost every other day . . . . but he is a trustworthy alien hunter and who could possibly disbelieve a fanatical alien hunter convinced that all the major world governments have a global conspiracy theory to keep us all in the dark, and he is so dedicated that he does this in the nude even in winter. Anyway I don’t have time to worry about aliens because I need to be on red alert for Zombies, cunning little beasts that they are……

Why did the clairvoyant cross the road?

To get to the other side.

HAH HAH HA HAH hah ah hahah hah ah hahah hah ha hah ah ah ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha  

Ok yes what have I been up too, well yesterday we were working all out to save a tiny mouse that one of the cats had caught although they both refused to own up to this. It did rally round (that’s recovery a bit not drive a car at speed through loads of mud) but despite apple and some seeds it died last night so was buried this morning. . . . . Flipper the Mouse would have been proud of us.

Last night was Mr Kris’s birthday party sort of meal so we all ate pies, roast potatoes, peas carrots cheesecake, meringue cream and cakes and other stuff; and as there is some left over guess what’s for tea (that’s northern for dinner), YUM.

This morning we set off to one of the local craft fairs with Mrs E but it turned out to be fifty years late (that’s the craft fair not us) or some sort of strange time warp thing must have happened because all the stuff looked a bit like it was made by granny in 1948. After efforts to look like we did not wish to escape we drank a cup of tea and sneaked out and vanished off for a chat and a drink with friends and Mrs E headed off. We decided not to go to the other craft fair just in case, after all there are only so many post war knitted Santa’s and gloves a chap can cope with in one day.

Luckily however the day has ended with another seriously cool looking sunset and I will soon being eating loads of pie and cheesecake and all the Zombie defence systems are fully operational so I can chill (that’s relax not get cold).   

Speed Typing and Writing a Diary in a Limited Time Frame

I have started to notice that if I am in a rush writing my diary, it starts to make less sense and I start to make many errors in my typing. So I am limited to typing at a moderate speed of about one word a minute. The great disadvantage to me is that I am unable on most occasions to write all my days events in the allocated time allotted to the writing of my daily diary, normally all of about twenty minutes. So in order to create a masterful bit of writing I am forced into a situation where I am typing faster than I can actually type. I also think of what I am going to write as I write it, after all this is a daily (OK almost daily) diary not a great work of writing in the mould of say Sherpa Tensing (no sorry I mean Shakespeare). Sorry its easy to get those two mixed up I think it’s their coats and their fondness for Shrew Pie and apple sauce which in turn led one to write stuff and the other to become a great explorer; all that Doctor Livingstone I presume stuff and flying single handed over the Atlantic in a balsawood raft (sorry hot air balloon)  . . . . . No sorry the balloon is not made of balsawood

Anyway once I reach a certain typing speed nor anly does nmy tiepin fall apart but so does I train of thought anf then I not only cant read what I an tie pin but what I I am typing about does mad and I get amm distracted by stuff in the0  end fk jrir- all falls apart si T Thiss  SPeeeED I may as welllll  nor bother cos its all just ruibbbosh

I think I made my point . . . . . . .O yes its all OK for you lot sniggering and saying WHOSE Shakespeare, I thought he climbed a big mountain in Verona or was it Venice.  But typing fast can be important, particularly when you need to type out 100 times.

I must not electrocute the Physics teacher or glue a cat on his head even in the pursuit of science.

OOOOooooo right I was planning to tell you about the day, but I have run out of time . . . . . . .DAMN……. 

The Theory of Shrinking Matter and the Solution of the Universe and Dark Energy.

The Ghost Writer was in his office today although he says it was very odd because there was almost no one there and because the entire IT system was working as it should there was also not a lot to do. Of course most chaps would go home and tell their wife that it was a terrible day and they have been up to their eyes in mud and heavy spiky things all day without a single break, not go home and say HA HAH HAH HAH Hah ha hah ah hahha ha ha  did absolutely nothing today. Well as it happens he did answer the door to the public and smile at them and pretend to be the buildings maintenance man fixing widows (sorry windows) and ceiling lights, but he is rubbish at all of those.

I was having a fairly quite time myself our cyber-school has been very quite of late what with it being the pre winter period where everyone is watching everyone else waiting for someone to crack and start making festive things or offering to play the lead in this years pantomime  . . Father Christmas was a Zombie . . . . A choice which the headmaster said was quite frankly, a no brainer HA HAHH HAH AH HAH HAH HA HAH Hah ahha hah ha hah ah hah ah ah hah ah hah ah ha h ha HO HO HO.

Anyway while in science the whole concept of the universe came up in conversation with someone asking about the fact it is expanding and therefore must expand into something else. Then someone said they thought that it was getting smaller, it then stuck me in a flash of shear genius (I think I have pointed out previously that I am a rather modest genius) that the two things are in fact related. It is a complex theory but put in short goes a bit like this

Atoms are 99% empty space as they use their energy up they shrink, as every physical thing in the universe shrinks at the same uniform rate the fact they are shrinking in not obvious. So on earth, the planet, plants, life, water and everything in fact is shrinking but of course to us it all looks the same. However the space the universe is in remains the same so to us the planets appear to be getting further away because they are smaller when in fact they remain in the same place.

But what about the speed of light I hear you type, well light is made of atoms and they are getting smaller so the speed of light may appear to us to be the same but it is in fact getting slower and so planets are getting further away even in terms of radio and light speeds thus to science the universe is expanding when it is has in fact always been the same size. This explains the so called Red Shift seen in the universe and the lost energy of each atom as it shrinks explains Dark Energy . . . . . . . I think someone really should give me a Nobel prize (again) for a theory of such cunning genius that solves everything…..

The Guitar and the Sunset

I am in a bit of a rush tonight I have been searching the wondrous world of cyberspace for information on Mr M’s old Guild guitar a single pick up CE 100 which seems to date from 1960 although the tail piece seems to be from an earlier time and looks classic 1956.  Old guitars to some folk are like steam trains or old motorbikes or rare books or stamps, mind you most of the folk such things appeal too are in general men and quite often men of a certain age who like to potter about with other men of the same age looking at these things and going OOOOOOOo that is a humbucking pickup from the old New York workshop made by Mr Smith or even his dad . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Or OOOOOooo look a condensing double level braking cylinder screw mechanism.

Anyway we popped up to Mr M’s house to ensure all is OK which it is or at least we think it is as far as we can tell considering there is piles of stuff and several rusting dead cars and large holes in the ground.  It would be an ideal place for a classic Zombie movie although getting a film crew and a load of Zombies up the hill would be far from easy……….

Right I must go as it is getting later than I planned to be writing my diary, but before I go I must say WOW that was some sunset tonight I went out to take a picture and there were other folk doing the same, a clear sign that it must have been jolly good, normally it is just me pointing camera’s at the sky (and pointy sticks). 

The True Story of Santa (Father Christmas) in Lapland

One upon a time a very long time ago living in the wild snows in or around the proximity of Lapland lived a mad grumpy old man who for reasons only known to himself and a gang of Elves wore a false beard. He had locked them (the Elves not the false beards) in a large workshop making novelty logs for his fire in the shape of trains, cars, rockets, dogs, cats, rabbits, in fact almost anything you could think of. He then threw them on his fire (not the elves but the logs) going HA HAHH HA HHAH ahha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha because he disliked them all, but had been warned by the police about throwing small cute furry things and trains onto fires so had to make do with wooden lookalikes.

Once a year however he would venture out in the middle of winter and steal mince pies, and glasses of mulled wine from folk in the middle of the night (I did say he was mad). It was something of a mystery for the people of Lapland who just could not work out who was stealing all the mince pies and drinking their mulled wine or getting into their houses.  Then the king decided to reward who ever caught the thief with a fir tree full of sparkly things, a foolish idea after all folk in Lapland need another fir tree like a hedgehog needs one more flea.

But as it happens one small child, a little girl decided she would like her very own fir tree full of sparkly things so hid in a large box which she disguised with wrapping paper and a large bow. It is after all the sort of thing little girls do, they are not going to be happy hiding in a plain old cardboard box.  Then at the stroke of midnight the mad old man arrived down the chimney grumbling about soot and stuff.  As he drank the little girl’s parents mulled wine and raided the larder for mince pies the little girl sneaked up behind him and said I arrest you for stealing wine and mince pies and you must come with me to the police station.

The grumpy old man was a bit startled but thinking fast he said ho ho ho little girl, if you let me go I will give you a sack of novelty logs (sorry I mean toys) to burn (sorry I mean play with) and besides I have a magic reindeer waiting for me on your roof and if you arrest me he will starve to death. And he has a red nose and a magic sleigh and antlers and stuff.  The little girl pondered and looked at the logs (sorry toys) and said OK then but that big false beard is rubbish and would you like a carrot for the reindeer.  Nodding and taking the carrot the mad grumpy man made his escape up the chimney as fast as possible, but as he did the little girl shouted to him By the way what is you name and as he reached the top he shouted back SATAN HA HAHH HAH HA HAH HHAH ha ha ha HO HO HO . . . .

The little girl mishearing him said SANTA? Well that’s a funny name. However at school the following day she told her friends about SANTA and showed them her wooden novelty logs (sorry I mean toys) and then every small child started demanding they wanted SANTA to leave them things and the whole thing just got entirely out of control.  But the mad grumpy old man found that his new fancy toys (sorry novelty logs) were selling like hot cakes (or logs) and he made loads of money allowing him to buy a big flash fur lined red coat. Although the Elves demanded a pay rise and with advances in technology got their revenge by not supplying batteries.

Of course over the long years the whole story has become a bit mixed up and  fact and folk tale have blended together so that almost no one believes Santa is a mad grumpy old man in a false beard complaining about an itchy fur lined coat and drinking mulled wine in the middle of the night and nibbling a carrot………………

The Steam Powered Duck, Dr Who and the Exploding Apples

It has been a very cold day today a day that saw the first day this year when the Steam Powered Duck has been unable to move due to ice. If you were to ask the Steam Powered Duck what it did today it would respond with ALMOST Entirely Nothing which surprisingly bearing in mind yesterdays diary entry is correct.

Mr F arrived very late yesterday evening and is spending the weekend with us, although he has just exploded two apples in the microwave as part of an experiment to make fruit look like brains in order to get Zombies to have a healthier diet. It appears that it has been proved scientifically that one of the reasons Zombies are so lethargic and slow is the lack of fruit and fibre in their food.

We also went off to the vineyard to drink coffee or in my case Hot Chocolate (they do a good Hot Chocolate) and talk about the age old problem of clockwise and anticlockwise bias in the human body, a subject I have previously discussed in my diary.

I have also used my new, well I say new as it is new to me although it has a previous owner, camera to photograph the Steam Powered Duck. What I have noticed is that because it is big and complex and full of buttons the battery runs flat. This happen to coincide with the farm opposite putting on a large firework display for their cows, as it helps their milk yield although the noise did frighten the local pheasants and several pigeons and a cat; but it does mean there are no photographs to prove the event took place.

As I write my diary everyone else is doing a jigsaw in the main living room and I may go and see if I can entice a few Zombies with exploded apples although I am not entirely convinced they will be fooled into thinking they are brains even if the exploded raspberries give them the oozing blood look of a fresh brain.

I have noticed much talk of Dr Who which is fifty years old now. I was rather amused that someone well known on the TV said the reason for its success was the fact he was a middle class eccentric fighting strange monsters in a world were almost anything could happen. . . . . . . . Oooo yes I can see how that is a winning formula, I wonder if it will work in cyberspace in a sort of daily diary format  . . . . . . . . . . . AAAAAaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuggggggHHHHHHH

My new Camera (secondhand)

AH mum has said IDIOT again.

OK time to go….. I knitted a really long scarf once a very very very very long time ago but left it on a train, I wonder what happened to that….. I might ask that Doctor bloke.  

The Theory of Nothing and its use in avoiding Zombies, Cardboard Art and three potatoes

I am here again today even though I have almost entirely done nothing, yes Ok I cant actually entirely do nothing partly because the human body has to do something or it would fall over dead and in doing so mean it has done something although it would find it hard to write about in afterwards. And in science the concept of nothing is rather difficult because even an empty space entirely emptied of air and any loose atoms floating about is still an empty space and so has substance (although not a lot).

It may be useful to know that if you are trapped into a corner by Zombies which quite frankly should not happen, they are after all a little slow and not the brightest sparks in the bicycle shed. Yes another old saying from the days of bicycles, rather popular also in China in the late seventies for reasons plainly obvious to a historian of world bicycles. AH DAMN distracted again………

Anyway as I was saying if you are trapped in a corner by Zombies don’t panic firmly tell them to SIT and then explain that as homework they need to tell you all about nothing and how the universe started from a point of nothing so small that it’s tiny. This is a hard thing for a Zombie to understand and while they ponder this and look at one another in a slight panic hoping one of the others might stick their hand up to answer you calmly walk away and tell them they must write nothing one hundred times until it sinks in and they get the point (that’s the tiny point that started all the problems involved with the start of the universe).

OK  yes MMMMmmmmmm today; as I said I did not do a lot but I did buy cheese, eat a bacon butty and posted a letter, carried three large potatoes and did not look at the fish. I then drank tea, ate some cheese in a roll, drank some more tea and looked out the window, the last time I did that the Sparrow Hawk ate a Robin so it was a bit of a worry although this time it was OK (not for the Robin).

I then when to the hospital that Mr M was in because he got very friendly with a Mr P and I said I would go and see Mr P again to make sure he was OK, which he is. Mr P went home for a day this week for a trial run, but although his house is looking good the council have managed to ensure he has no hot water so it is being fixed and he hopes to go home at the end of next week all being well.

I then returned home and have done a tiny bit of cardboard arty stuff for the grand master plan, a plan that consists of almost entirely nothing………….

The Funeral of Mr M and the Kala Kar

Sadly it was the funeral of our old friend Mr M and despite the fact he really only had the one son who could be there as a direct family member a lot of his friends managed to make it. It was an odd sort of funeral as his son has always been convinced that Mr M was a hardened Buddhist, but he was not really and would have been happy to have a bit of everything on the grounds that would cover all the options once he arrived where ever we arrive. We then went off to the after funeral reception where we ate a bit of food chatted about Mr M and the old days and some of his mad exploits and trying to work out where he hid the gold in the garden which he did years ago to avoid tax. Although doing this while being rather merry is a bad move as it then leads to years of digging holes looking for it again but failing.

After a rush home and feeding the cats we then rushed off again to team up with Mr Charlie and Miss Jane (who were also at the funeral) for an Indian meal in Montgomery, where we discussed many things including old bird cages and the making of small cardboard birds.  The last small cardboard birds were faulty and I now have decided to start from scratch again and make a Mk2 small cardboard bird design, although I now have to make twice as many as Mr Charlie and Miss Jane wish to have one or two for their cage.  They told the chap at the Indian that I am a great artist and although I agreed and said I was I also had to point out that I was a very modest great artist so I seldom tell people, he (the chap from the Indian) then said that I was a KALA KAR which is apparently an artist in Indian so WELL COOL.

Last night the weather was very windy and we found ourselves battling along some tiny roads in the dark as we were out visiting friends for a meal last night also. I know it sounds like we are out all the time having a good time, but this is not true as we are not out that often or my diary would be really exciting which it is plainly not.  And as a result of a bit of wheeler dealing I am now the proud owner of a big posh camera, the main drawback of which is I now have to learn how to actually take a picture with it.

I was also planning to tell you more about the conversation between the shop assistants on how to stab people and what is the right type of knife to use, but it is very late and it has been a long long day…..  

Scratch and lick Christmas Cards, Hieroglyphics and a Sparrow Hawk

The most observant of you will have noticed that I did not write a diary post yesterday as I had been busy and was tired, but the drawback to this is that I can’t now remember what I did. This is one of the reasons I started this diary in the first place so that I could keep track of what I have done.  I do know that one of the ways to remember stuff is to put it all into a journey or story with images and associations with strange little things, but my story has got rather long

It may well have been yesterday that I was attempting to teach hieroglyphics to small children as part of the Zombie defence classes.  This is a useful skill as Zombies can just about read hieroglyphics (although not spell it) as they are taught this by their Mummies HAH HAH HAHH HAH H HHAH HA HAH HA HAH HAhha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahah ah ah aha hah ah ah ah ah ah ha ha ah. Just to prove a point while talking about Hieroglyphics I forgot to mention that a couple of days ago while looking out of the window at a small Robin eating seed, a Sparrow Hawk swooped down and grabbed it and flew off with it, nature is rotten sometimes.

Anyway today involved a trip to Montgomery, swapping a packet of soap powder for a packet of soap powder of the same type, moving some small sticks, and picking up three blue bags and then putting three blue bags down again and putting some recycling into a recycling skip. I will not elaborate on any of this in any great detail because it would scare off the very nice Steven Spielberg who to the best of my knowledge has never shown any inclination to make a film involving the swapping of soap powder. Mind you this is just the kind of small detail that aliens would show great interest in  as it is a clear sign of intelligent life rather that the dog eat dog lifestyle of nature in the raw, or should I say Sparrow Hawk eat Robin.  If I was to draw a Sparrow Hawk on some of those rather boring Robin Christmas cards and add a bit of tomato ketchup for effect, I could send them to friends for Christmas. They would be like those scratch and sniff cards or in this case scratch and lick . . . . . . .WELL COOL . . . . .

AH mum has just said IDIOT

OOoooooooooo yes it was rather frosty this morning…..

The worlds most pointless invention and dogs

I was not planning to write anything tonight after all I did say that I was not going to write things everyday and  today would have been a good day to start as all I did was move some wood I got back in the spring to a dryer place and sweep leaves. Although strangely sweeping leaves is a dying art since someone invented the leaf blower which is almost the most pointless invention in the world; using loads of energy to blow leaves from point A to point B so that the wind or your neighbour will blow the leaves back to point A, your neighbour of course using his leaf blower to do this. Using a yard brush sweeping the leafs into a pile and then putting them on the compost pile is for more eco, OK less fun and much harder work  . . . . . . . Hang on I want a leaf blower.

Talk of leaves is not why I am here however, I am here because of dogs who as it happens like to run about in leaves and chew leaf blowers and yard brushes. You see I was eating food watching a bit of TV as the dining table is covered in faulty cardboard birds at present and they happen to say that a huge number of folk do not have any savings (hardly news). They then went on to say ideally everyone should have enough money saved to live for six months  AH HAH HAH h ha hah ah ha haha ha ha ha ha ha yes we wish. They then went on to say folk could make some extra cash having car boot sales, making cakes, or dog walking which will pay about fifteen pounds an hour . . . . . . . . . . . WHAT FIFTEEN POUNDS AN HOUR, I think they must be the wrong side of the Watford Gap somewhere down South in London as up in these parts you can buy a whole pack of dogs for fifteen pounds. I told the Ghost Writer who is the IT Guru for a local charity and he was dead upset he gets less than that per hour for IT and said people must be barking mad and it is a bit Ruff for those of us in the real world.

Just to add to the annoyance I was feeling about this it appears the head of a large bank was filmed buying or using some rather serious illegal drugs, but its OK because he has apologised.  Quite frankly he should be sacked and told to take up dog walking as the fresh air will do him good, but I suspect it will all end in a golden handshake and a  pension…….. GGGggggrrrrrrrrrrrr…….

Woof

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The Demise of the Zombie and Faulty Small Birds

I did my good deed today I put my head down into the sewage system to work out what was going on as I said I would in my moment of rashness yesterday. My first thought was that an enterprising Zombie may have been trying to sneak through some of the outer perimeter Zombie defence systems, but not everyone in the village is convinced that Zombies even exist. Something of a shock really as tiny rural villages in the hills are really the last place Zombies have to lurk about and scare folk, once they are doomed to disbelieve here then their end is nigh. Well I guess that would save me a lot of digging, but all the same . . . .

Of course I blame modern film making techniques with all their fancy computer generated graphics where they are so keen to make it  look real (plastic) that it ruins a good Zombie or Vampire. It maybe OK for that Luke Spywalker and all his infinity and beyond but the scariest monsters in the movies are the old ones using real stuff and a bit of mud and gore. Anyway it’s the thin edge of the wedge because once folk don’t believe in Zombies, Vampires and banshees, the next step is fairies, elves and Santa and garden gnomes consigned to the skip.

AH yes I got distracted it appears the sewer system may be suffering from an inadequate fall in pipe work as far as I can tell, but then I only go down them to search for Zombies and look what has happened to them.

I also attempted to continue making small birds but I was trying something slightly new and it did not entirely work as planned.  Yet another shock, I know I have never tried this idea before but as the greatest maker of cardboard sculpture in the world the discovery that a new idea does not work first time is a serious blow to my street credibility and therefore it is best I do not tell you about it or photograph a faulty small bird . . . . . . . .AH DAMN.

The Birds, the Bird Cage and the Hubble Traveller.

It was coldish today although not as cold as yesterday, this allowed me to leap into a muddy hole and also wave a pointy stick about in a moderately enthusiastic way. I have also started to make a small flock of cardboard birds and have some special paper to cover them in; this is I have been told magic paper and the small cardboard birds will be capable of flying once complete. So I have obtained a suitable bird cage that was taken from a Moroccan palace deep in the High Atlas Mountains by a traveller many many years ago and has been hidden away in a secret place far from prying eyes as the prince who owned the cage, who was not amused and threatened the humble traveller who ran of with it with a fate worse than death. I once went to a village fate myself that was like that so I can understand why the humble traveller hid the rather posh bird cage.

In a moment of rash madness this morning before my brain had entirely got to working speed I volunteered to stick my head into a sewage system to give my expert opinion tomorrow. Folk know that I tend to have a weakness for deep dark muddy holes, but just maybe I might have made a mistake as the other chap who was asked ran off screaming saying o god no not that one again. I will no doubt report back tomorrow, although it should be remembered I am no longer writing my diary everyday despite what it may look like superficially on the surface. 

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This Post does not Exist . . . . . No words have been typed what so ever

Having reached 1000 blog posts the other day and then saying that this now means that I will no longer be writing a daily diary I have decided to make today the first day of not writing my diary. Of course you may have noticed that I have probably not started not writing my diary rather badly as it already has more words in it than none. I hope you understand that (it does make sense honest).

It has been an odd day not to write about as someone told me Adam Faith died today but it appears that was slightly inaccurate as he died in 2003 so they were one figure wrong. It came up in conversation because Mr M once appeared on the Six-Five Special with Adam Faith and they were both being rebellious and refused to do the silly train shuffle walk thing.

I have also cleaned some windows today and have attempted to return to some arty stuff as part of the great world master plan. I wonder what happened to all those End of the World predictions, they appear to have ended. Talking of which I will go before it looks like rather than not writing a thing people will miss interpret this as writing, it is not and no words have been typed in the typing of the diary entry that does not exist. . . . . .    

Mr M, Art and memento's, Memorabilia and the Taj Mahal

We were rather hoping that with the sad death of Mr M it may be possible to get a small memento from his estate, one of his small quirky little sculptures or one of his personal little drawings. However we have not heard from his son and the dark shadows, and have a feeling that much of the little personal things of no value have been destroyed or burnt. This often happens when people die suddenly folk see pounds signs and not the person, which is very sad. But being a resourceful chap I am now working on a master plan to create Mr M art based memorabilia using images from some of little home made cards and some of the things he made plus some old photos.

Ironically it may well be that lots of the items he had collected or made over the years; he made of lot of wooden furniture and small cupboards could end up in an auction in Montgomery where we used to live.

It was Mr S’s birthday today and so we have all been to the Indian restaurant in Montgomery for a meal, and jolly good it was too. Although Miss K did try and destroy the Taj Mahal (not the one made by Mr M out of special brew cans or the real one) 

Oooo and we have just heard back from the son of Mr M so we will see what occurs. 

You should really watch this it is rather cooooooool

The sad news of the death of Mr M . . . . . .

Mr M finally lost his battle defending himself with his pointy stick, the gods ran off with his soul just after midnight last night, I suspect they will tell the spirit of Mr M that he is not to mess about in heaven and under no circumstances is he allowed to attempt to make a two thirds scale model of the Taj Mahal out of special brew cans (again). However he was and I suspect still is a mischievous soul and will be doing something rebellious like drawing moustaches on sleeping angels or teaching cats to sing old jazz songs slightly faster than they should be sung so that they all sound like Tiny Tim.

Mr M (left) and the Ghost Writer (right) many moons ago

Interestingly the tale may continue a little while longer as dark shadows have loomed out from the far distant past and large doors appear to be closing, so that some of the things Mr M was keen to see happen will not.  However among the dark shadows that are moving about is a secret; one that I think a certain person may prefer I did not know, a secret that should it be known would bring disharmony to the dark shadows, a secret that will remain secret but which will in its own good time grow in power and eventually come to cause much conflict among the dark shadows. Much will depend on one person’s greed and desire; in fact it is all a bit like that Indiana Jones (not the alien hunter) and the Holy Grail, Anyway it is a sad day but the wheels of fate could not be changed.

Mr M was a nice chap and will be missed by his friends a lot. Although he was a suborn eccentric (unlike me) who would always say after you told him that he was more annoying than a flock of seagulls wearing balaclavas on Brighton beach trying to run off with your fish supper . . . . . . I knew you were going to say that . . . .  

1000 blog posts, Blogger and the Diary of Rob Z Tobor . . . . .PHEW

As many of you know partly because I told you all yesterday I write my diary in many places, like on the side of trains, in tunnels, carved into old oak trees, and cyberspace, and one of those cyberspace locations is a blog. There are millions of blogs in the world which is a lot and I am sure I heard or read that the average blog has something like 10 posts or the like. I may be entirely wrong about that, but it is not a high figure and you need to work away at them in order to keep them going. My blog was a little late in starting as my diary in fact started in cyberspace elsewhere, but I like blogs and as a long term way to keep my diary going it is perfect. It was started on the 15^th Feb 2011 and many things have happened since then although if you are a regular reader of my diary you will know by now things are not always as they appear and I can’t spell or type and in general forget loads of stuff and spend a lot of time defending myself against Zombies and almost communicating with Aliens.  It has also changed a bit over time which is probably all for the better, partly because the very nice Steven Spielberg is not getting any younger and my diary gets heavier by the day so his ability to pick it up and say WOW this would make a cool movie is becoming less likely. I may have to resort to using thinner paper to write it on……..

OK yes to get straight to the point today is a special day for my blog as this is post one thousand, yes the 1000^th blog post and one of the first goals I set myself back in the early days. I am rather pleased I have reached it because I said once I did, I would stop posting my diary on a daily basis as it hard work and a little difficult to always find the time to do it,  I am after all only Super Human with X ray eyes and the power to leap over speeding cats.

Since I started the blog the pageview counter tells me I have reached just over 72,000 views which is an average of 7 views per post of which at least six and three quarters are spam auto robots. So I wish to thank my reader and say next time you eat a Jammie Dodger or Custard Cream or poke at the iphone with a pointy stick, attempt to stop a small child taking over the world, or paws for thought or are even quietly writing away at your own blog why not pause for a moment and say that blog is rubbish he’s an IDIOT.

If you are new to blogging and all keen and thinking OOOOooooooo I will have loads of followers and all will be hunky dory, that can happen but you will have to work at it much like most things in life really which as we all know is a bit of a nuisance, no one likes work.

Mr M by the way is still fighting off the gods, I think if he had a decent liver he would live to be at least 110 or more, sadly though he really cant have long until he goes off to see his maker and have a jolly good complain about being given a faulty part and will demand another go, but with more sparkly bits.

Birthdays and other things

It has been a sunny day and although now dark the sky is still clear and the stars and half a moon are up in the night sky, I suspect someone has pinched the other half.  I noticed that India sent a rocket to Mars the other day (I cant remember if I mentioned it or not) and I have seen various comments floating about in cyberspace saying that the Indian Mars Mission is remarkably cheap in comparison to previous ones. It made me think that maybe what we need is some sort of competition like the one the Wright brothers won when they flew their helicopter over the Statue of Liberty in 1907.  We need some sort of competition to make a rocket to go to the moon, say for less that price of the average car or even  made out of an average car.

Earlier today we were at a surprise birthday party for Mr D who was 40, it was a good party and everyone had a great time and loads of good food. We left a bit early because we needed to go and see Mr M who continues to battle away poking his imaginary pointy stick at the gods to fend them off a little longer.  However since I started writing my diary many odd little coincidences have happened and I suspect that tomorrow may see yet another one. As many of you know my diary has several locations in cyberspace including my blog which is a bit like Captain Kirks Ships log on the Starship Enterprise and tomorrow’s blog post will be the 1000^th one. In blog terms this is quite an achievement (well I think so), but I can’t help but think this is going to coincide with Mr M finally loosing his battle with the gods.

If anyone is wondering about my picture tonight it is a long story but I now have to master drawing President Putin. Most of you will think WHAT but someone will not and he knows who he is. . . . . . .   

Star Wars, Teeth, Heaven, and Mr M

Today is a quiet day, well sort of quiet, we have been in to see Mr M and he is still battling away with gritted teeth, well they have removed his teeth which I suspect he is not entirely happy with.  If you think about it over the last couple of thousand years or so it is quite common for folk to loose their teeth. And I don’t mean as in put them down on the seat in the bus and then the next thing you know is eating a Gingernut in Marks and Sparks and thinking DAMN.  Yes OK that is also surprisingly common too, but I am referring to the real teeth sort of going bad and falling out or even pulled out.

Then the thought occurred to me that assuming we all go off to some sort of heaven somewhere and most religions have a heaven of some sort somewhere, which will turn out to be the same one for everyone, but with a lot of entrances no doubt with escalators bringing folk up from all over the place. A bit like supermarkets who also have escalators getting you up into them but then make you walk down a load of stairs to get out again, although I am not certain that heaven will have stairs because a lot of folk are fairly elderly and frail.  Hang on I got distracted from the point, I was saying about teeth and the point I was going to make is a rather large number of folk arriving in heaven will have no teeth. Since this is a rather spiritual place I suspect there are no dentists so I am now left with the vision of a host (or is it multitude) of angels looking down on folk with no teeth spending eternity eating soft food. Or like the person who left their teeth on the bus by mistake having to dunk their Gingernuts in their mug of tea, I rather like dunking Gingernuts in my tea even if I do still have teeth. 

We hope to go in and visit Mr M later although I better not tell him that angels probably don’t have any teeth so don’t tell them any jokes and make them laugh.  And like yesterday my drawings are getting even more unrelated to events, maybe I am in two different dimensions at present and the me in the other dimension is communicating using pictures in the same ways as tables sometimes knock once for yes and twice for no………

Ooooo how come everyone wants to be in the new Star Wars 7 or what ever, and are forming huge queues, when it is plainly clear that what they need is an eccentric child of cyberspace….

May the Norse be with you  . . . .. . . . .see its easy . . . .AH DAMN. 

Storms, Books, Old Masters and a Morris Minor

Mr M continues to get weaker and the nurses suspect he has less than twenty four hours left to live, so it is all a little sad, but he had a jolly good run. And although he has struggled with one thing and another the last couple of years, he has done loads of things and been to loads of places in his lifetime. We did not stay too long today as his son is stopping at the hospital and other folk are popping in to see him. I have taken to drawing pictures of stuff while I am there now as Mr M was amused by them when he could see what I was up too; he was rather a good artist himself and once painted a tiny Micro Morris Minor on an old master so well that no one has ever noticed.  He always used to think of John Constable saying to the young Morris Minor driver  . . . . . HELLO sonny would you mind blowing into this Goats bladder.

I noticed on the news first thing that a huge storm has hit the Philippines with winds up to 199 miles an hour although as yet there is little news of how much destruction it has caused, but it does go to show that the big storm that the BBC were talking about that attacked the South coast of Britain was in reality merely a flesh wound. One of the perks of living in the UK is our weather may be wet, windy, cold, and sometimes a bit warm, but mainly not with grey skies and the odd bit of snow and more rain and even more rain; however our storms are fairly tame compared to other places and we tend not to get seriously extreme weather. It is strange then that I reckon us Brits complain about the weather more than anyone else, maybe knowing it can’t come back and bite us quite so badly means we can complain more.  It is like poking a kitten and a Lion with a pointy stick, OK the one is just not nice but the other is extremely silly or so I was told by the Zoo Keeper.

You may look at my little drawing (doodle) tonight and think WHAT? But I tend not to think too much about what I draw while visiting Mr M, so it may appear a little unrelated. If (as I have said many times now) you are reading the cheap paperback Diary of Rob Z Tobor bought at Kings Cross station in the three for a pound bargain basket, you will not get to see my drawings, so best to buy the illuminated limited edition with the gold leaf embossed cover sold for a modest one thousand five hundred and twenty three pounds and fifteen pence plus postage.  

The World of Friends, Rock Stars and Mr M

It has been a mixed day of events that started with the very sad news that Mr M had slipped into a coma in the night, although we have been assured that he is not in any pain. He is still hanging in there but sadly it is a case of insuring he is not suffering and can maintain his dignity.

Anyway we also had visitors for lunch in the form of Mr Ian the Musical Hat Maker, Auntie Karen, Mr Charlie and Miss Jane, it has been a long time since we have seen them and it was good to return to some normality for a few hours. Mr Ian the Musical Hat Maker is a man full of interesting tales from his past in the music industry as a rather modest and always friendly rock star, both as a solo artist and writer, and as a member of Brinsley Schwarz. And he told us all about folk like Paul McCartney and what he got up to when they were on the same tour in the USA, and of the time he found himself standing right in the middle of a police stand off in Nashville by accident when an armed gang were robbing a book shop.  I wonder if the police got to read them their rights HA HAHAH HAH AH HAH HAha hah ha hah hah ah hah ahha ha hah ha ha ha. 

Mr Charlie and myself went out and peered at a strimmer for a while and removed bits and nodded in a knowing way and pointed at things before we returned to eat loads of good food and continue to chat of many things including the advantages and disadvantages of using two fire guards.

Then after they all ventured home, we headed off to see Mr M and chat to him, it is always important to chat to folk even if they are in a coma because almost the last thing to stop working in the human body is hearing, so even if folk cant respond by say poking you with a pointy stick, they will know what you said.  We then returned home and ate more food and moved a fire guard a bit.

I hope this continues to make sense as it is getting late and I am getting tired ………..

Mr M, Pointy Sticks and the art of remaining still.

It has been a wet cold day and time is all a bit of a blur at present due to visiting Mr M, our old friend. However it is important to visit Mr M as he is sort of on limited time even if he is doing a good job of hanging on in there and sort of poking at the gods with a pointy stick, I suspect that the gods may at some stage when he goes to see them mutter about pointy sticks, and confiscate any he may take with him. I am not good with religion in general but don’t think any of the main stream religions of any country deal with pointy sticks in any great detail, I think at sometime I will need to draw  Pointstickius the Micro God of Pointy Sticks. Anyway we will be off to see Mr M shortly so I am typing super fast to finish my diary entry or at least as much as I can which is why I suspect it may make no sense what so ever.

The Ghost Writer has been rather busy as he had to go to his grey office today and do things although he did say that by hiding in a dark corner and remaining very still he did manage to get through the day without too many problems. He says the art of remaining still in a dark space in the office is a skill most people need to survive work and yet no one ever teaches it at school anymore.  In the old days it was taught subtlety in the playground to children and was called Hide and Seek rather than Work Avoidance Skills or WAS after the standard answer to the question from the boss. . . . . . . Where have you been . . . . .  where we say in a slightly panicky way I was, was, was mmmmmmmmmmm posting an Armadilo to the design department.

OK we have returned from Mr M, he looked a little better than last night which was good but alas it does not mean he is getting better just that he is still comfortable and the old brain cells are still in working order.  As I said yesterday (I think) it is a funny old world and I must say there are times when you feel that if you could poke someone with a pointy stick (obviously not Mr M) it might just help a bit. 

The true History of Guy Fawkes and other things

Today in the UK it is Guy Fawkes Night when loads of folk have bonfires, set off fireworks and eat toffee apples and wave sparklers about. However folk forget about why all this started back in 1605 when trying to escape from a large group of Zombies Guy Fawkes leapt into the cellar of the House of Commons. His train of thought (yes another saying that led to the saying, he has fallen off the rails) was that no Zombie with any sense of taste would be stupid enough to want to eat the brains of a politician. However Zombies cant read so followed him, so thinking quickly he happened upon several large casks of gunpowder and thought to himself . . . . .I know I will blow them up.

Unfortunately as he was running about avoiding Zombies and trying to set fire to the fuse for the gunpowder a large group of politicians arrived in the cellar to see what all the noise was about.  Zombies hate politicians they taste terrible so they ran off and hid leaving poor old Guy Fawkes standing on a large pile of explosives with a box of matches and as no one likes politicians they sort of got the wrong idea about him thinking he was trying to blow them up. 

Of course poor old Guy was hung and it was only afterwards that it was discovered that he was trying to blow up Zombies, so feeling a bit guilty and knowing that no one liked them anyway the politicians thought it best to celebrate him with a jolly uplifting event with bonfires where folk could burn a Zombie on it. Then after several accidents where the Zombie escaped and ate small children it was decided to burn an effigy of a Zombie instead.

We will be heading off to see Mr M again soon but have discovered, thanks to Miss Fionaski the Famous Russian Spy that it will be possible for him to have a Buddhist funeral service locally which is something he would like, so we will be passing on the information to his son later; although it is on microfilm and in code . . . . . . AH DAMN.

Mr M and fields of mud

I did not get to write my diary entry last night as Mr M has got weaker and has been given only a couple of days to live, so we headed off to see him and collect his son who had spent the day travelling up on trains from London. So we had to battle up the track to Mr M’s house in the dark and rain, but the trusty car made it again, although I am not sure that the trusty car is entirely happy about going to Mr M’s house.  We will be heading off to see Mr M again a bit later on, so we are slightly in limbo waiting for some news and making a few phone calls.

At present it is rather muddy outside so it is difficult to do anything such as poke about in holes with pointy sticks as the holes are full of water and/or mud. The ground is also far too muddy to chase Zombies about and wave pointy sticks at them, particularly as I do not really possess suitable mud fairing footwear to run about in mud.  I am told that the hospital would not entirely be happy if I turn up to see Mr M covered in mud and water with a pointy stick with bits of Zombie hanging off it and they might make me wait outside.

I have also got my White Falcon out of its case (it is not a falcon but a guitar) as it is some time since it has been out of its case and guitars do like to see some daylight and get a chance to stretch their legs (sorry pegs or is it strings). It is entirely the wrong guitar to take into a muddy garden too as it is sort of the wrong colour and as near as damn it the diametrical opposite of mud.

I may return later depending on events and time.