Beatrix and Harry Potter and the strange tale of the missing book

Once upon a time there was a young Wizard called Beatrix she was very keen on writing  her book of spells, she loved to record many spells scribbling little drawings of entrails and stuff in the margins. She was often heard practising them or learning new ones from Professor McGregor in the old potting shed at the end of Hogwarts vegetable garden as they ate Ginger and Pickles and drinking a nice pot of camomile tea with a small tot of rum added.  

Eye of Newt,  Leg of Rabbit, Toe of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and a nuns old Habit . . . . . . . . .  Liver from Jemima Puddle-Duck. . . .  and a small bit of Squirrel Nutkins, Just for luck . . . .  Yes such spells were often heard coming from the potting shed on the long warm evening of spring. And so it was, and all was well until one day Beatrix’s younger brother Harry lost his faithful owl in the enchanted woods. He searched high and low, but with no luck. Then one evening sat by a tree near the old potting shed Harry heard Beatrix talking to Professor McGregor

Professor I tried that spell and it did not seem to work

Oooooo Miss Beatrix which one was that

Mr Tods big glass eye, Tommy Brock’s boots crisp and dry, Wing of owl and its beak and head Make my hair a nice shade of red.

Ah you forgot the Two bad mice and a Toms severed thumb said the Professor

DAMN said Beatrix, but at that very moment young Harry leapt up and shouted at Beatrix for using his owl in a spell. . . He was not happy and he shouted . . . Bookium avanishioxus inum flashious. . . . And sure enough before you could say hang on I will explain everything the book that Beatrix had been writing with all her spells and drawings in had vanished.

Give me back my book young Harry Potter said his sister Beatrix

Never not until a weird cat wearing an old jacket wearing silly boots and carrying an old flintlock rifle turns up CALLED KITTY CAT. . . HAH AHha ha ha ha ha ha hah a hahah a hah ahaha hah a ha ha ha said Harry in a slightly mad way

And so it was until to everyone's astonishment what should happen to wander into the Victoria and Albert Museum, but none other than Kitty Cat, leading to a long protracted legal dispute with a certain chocolate covered snack

It’s a funny old world said Professor McGregor as he ate yet another Rabbit pie.       

THE END.

The Truth behind Burns Night . . . And the origins of the Haggis

This is the story of Mad Rob Z Burns whom way back was the man who finally destroyed the terrible beast of the heather known at the time as the Hissing Hag a terrible beast that legend said had plundered the wild places of Scotland eating unsuspecting crofters and travellers.  Rob Z Burns was a proud and fearless Scottish warrior who would stand his ground against all, even when out numbered twenty five to one. Which is why he was known as Mad Rob Z Burns; well that and his habit of waving his private parts at mountain goats and Englishmen scaring both somewhat.

You see back in about 1520 Scotland was in much turmoil having lost many fighters and noblemen in the Battle of Flodden in 1513 and this was a time when the fabled beast of the Wild the so called Hissing Hag was said to be at its most dangerous. Partly due to the fact, most of the highland warriors had perished in their battle against the English. But there was one who had not, Mad Rob Z Burns and having resigned himself to the Scottish defeat decided to find and defeat the fabled beast, The Hissing Hag.

He was a man of few words and when folk did ask him things such as  . . . How is it going  Mad Rob Z . . . he would reply with . .  Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes believe . .  or even . . .  Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware . . .  Which after a while led to folk shuffling past avoiding conversation all together.  Much as most folk do today when they see a mad drunk Glaswegian in Sauchiehall Street.

However rumour soon spread across Scotland of Mad Rob Z Burns and his quest to find the fabled beast of the wild the so called Hissing Hag and destroy it.  And from time to time folk would see him up in the mountains tracking the beast through the mist. He would often wave and lift his kilt exposing his private parts to the unsuspecting traveller causing much stress and shock to the young and innocent But Mad Rob Z Burns was a Scottish Warrior it is what they do (well did). Then after about two years Mad Rod returned home having finally slain the beast. As proof he had kept a part of the beast in a sack. It was a hideous and gruesome sight. Many people came to see Mad Rob Z Burns and the remains of the beast and they would all ask him how he managed to kill it, but all he would ever say is . . . . Ah jist Neeped th' Hag Hiss beest wi' mah broad sword . . .

This was celebrated by many by making a copy of the terrible remains of the beast out of various bits of Sheep which the entire family would eat while drinking loads of Whisky and being rude with their kilts. The origin of the Haggis (from the Hag Hiss or Hissing Hag).

Then one of Mad Rob Z Burns’ ancestors also called Robert Burns wrote a poem which led to the modern day celebrations we all know as Burns Night on the 25^th January, but of course we all know that he was merely using a bit of poetic licence to tell the true story of Mad Rob Z Burns. Who would be far more well know had he said a bit more and exposed himself a bit less, but well that is what those old Scottish warriors were like back then.

  Address to a Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye worthy o' a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o need,

While thro your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,

An cut you up wi ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi perfect scunner,

Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro bloody flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll make it whissle;

An legs an arms, an heads will sned,

Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies:

But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,

Gie her a Haggis  

The fable of the Land of Pap. A tale of charity, giving and paper.

A long time ago in the strange and ancient Land of Pap the most valuable thing in the land was paper. It was coveted by all, and its uses were varied and endless which only added to its desirability.  It was Lord Afour who was regarded as the richest man in the land of Pap as he had so much paper it was said that if it was laid out flat it would cover the entire world 144 times; of course some folk felt such wealth was rather gross (HAH AHHAh ah aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahaha).

Well one day Lord Afour realised that there was more to life than wealth and so he gave half his paper to this friend Prince Foolscap who had only a small battered notepad.  Prince Foolscap was so pleased he gave half of the paper to his old family solicitor Mr Readas Smallprint and he in turn gave half to Charles Pencilsharpener.

Well so it went on as each recipient of the paper received it they gave half to a friend as a gesture of goodwill and charity.  Eventually of course the amount of paper received reduced substantially until young Miss Quill Pen received just 100 sheets of paper. But she only required 50 to get her through University, so she gave 50 to her Japanese college friend Miss Origami Nodding Swan, who keen to be seen to do her bit gave two sheets of paper to a down and out sleeping in the doorway of the University library (known to his mates as Ringbinder). Of course libraries could not afford real books and they were all kept on hard drives accessed by small electronic devices.

So it was as the sun set Ringbinder the old down and out rolled up the two sheets of paper and went down to the riverside where he saw his pals sleeping under the railway bridge. There were three of them nicknamed, Scrap, Maths and Hardcover and they all looked really pleased as Ringbinder tore the two sheets of paper in half so that each of them could wrap themselves up warm against the wild cold winters wind and rain under the old railway bridge.

As time passed the world moved on, and one by one everyone died and found themselves face to face with their God who asked them about what they had done to help there fellow man.  But strangely although God was pleased that Lord Afour and his friends had given half their wealth to someone else. It appeared that it was not who gave the greatest amount that pleased God the most, but those who had the least to give. When eventually the old down and out known as Ringbinder turned up in front of God and was asked what good deed he had done, he could not remember that he had shared his paper with his mates until God reminded him. Ringbinder you see had never thought is was a good deed, he was just pleased that he and his pals could stay warm, however God was very pleased and gave Ringbinder a new pair of comfy shoes and a big crusty bacon butty. God you see is very wise, which is why it is not a good idea to do terrible things in his name.                      

So at the end of the day, what's it all about then . . . And wallpaper

Last night as I sat chilling watching Stargazing Live on the BBC, I got a phone call asking if it was possible for me to visit a member of my family to hang wallpaper on one wall in order to create a feature. Caught slightly on the hop so to speak I did not have time to make up a cunning and brilliant excuse so in a sort of mad babble I agreed and was told that it was easy and would only take an hour of my time. I mean it’s wallpapering and therefore dead easy. Well that is sort of true except there is a strange black art to really good wallpaper hanging, which I do have, only it has been a while since I did an entire walls worth of it.

On my arrival I did find that one of the reasons that they had asked me was due to a bit of a disaster the evening before when they had attempted to hang the first piece themselves. Then the painter who is doing the rest of the room and putting together some large flat pack wardrobes for them said  . . . . . Oooooooo I don’t do wallpaper hanging far too dodgy and it can take ages.  . . . . I did agree with that, it is indeed a fickle thing to do well.

So three hours later the task was complete and all were pleased looking at the wall and saying well that is a good job done. . . .But how come it took three hours. . . . . Well of course it does take time to line up each drop and ensure nice clean edges top and bottom making sure that the paper is square to the wall so the pattern does not run up the wall at an angle and the like. And I do like to do a job well once I start one.

Anyway that was earlier and I have just watched Stargazing Live again where I discovered I did not discover a pulsar, but two small children did. It can be tough trying to make a small impact in the world. It would be nice to know that every now and again someone would say . . . You know that thing, you Know that thing that Rob Z Tobor did, wrote, discovered, sat on, ate, created, he was a cool chap . . .  I guess I will have to keep working on it for now and write more poetry and make more cardboard stuff and the like.

It is why I have mixed feeling about the sadness and shock that so many express about the likes of Lemmy, David Bowie and sadly today Alan Rickman. It is indeed very sad but in many respects they have been lucky enough to have left their mark on the world when so many live and die and are remembered by so few. It was after all the very sad death of a very talented twenty one year old called Svetlana who never got the chance to truly achieve what she might have  that first made me think I should write a blog. At least I know that in years to come when folk read my blog and I am off in another universe or what ever,  they will stop and think. . . . . Ooooo I just fancy a decent curry now. . . .    

The return of BBC Stargazing Live, a tale of aliens and cloudy skies

A couple of years ago when the BBC Stargazing Live programme with Professor Brian Cox and Dara O Briain was on the television I wrote the following post on my blog. This was before I was a grumpy old bloke and still the Slightly Eccentric Child of Cyberspace, Although I may have also written several slightly mad poems by this stage. . . I cant remember that far back anyway, so who can tell.  I will be watching this as it is a jolly interesting show even if they all seem a bit too happy to me and never turn up ashen faced and telling us about . . .  The End of the World. . . . I mean you could make such a cool spoof BBC Stargazing with aliens and the like. But No No they are all keen and enthusiastic and point at stars and go OOOOo look . . . .AH DAMN its cloudy.

AH I got a bit distracted . . . . As I said I will be watching this so I have cheated and this is an old repeated post. . . I hope you enjoy it, all I can say is I dont know what I was on about, but the universe is complicated particularly when the plucky Brit spills a cup of tea into the ISS main control panel

It is Wednesday today and School has returned to a state of stability, I know this because the Mathematics teacher showed us Newton’s formulas for the stability of nature, In an ideal world this would result in the entire school being all enthusiastic and leaping about particularly as the BBC Stargazing Live is on the television again tonight after what turned out to be jolly cloudy night last night, where no aliens were seen, and no stars or even the moon. But of course The Lagrangian Formalism (The Principle of Least Action) takes this into account and the result was lots of pupils wondering which class they should be in; and why the physics teacher was sweeping up mud in the playground, apparently it was the caretaker in a similar jumper with a pink reindeer on it, it appears the headmaster gave the same jumper to most of the school staff. . . . . . That is all well and good but if they all look the same how can I tell which lesson I’m in.  

So in a nut shell what I am saying is that Newton’s formulas for the stability of nature will state that my three slices of toast fall on the floor at lunchtime butter side down but the Lagrangian Formalism (The Principle of Least Action) states that by adding some curry and peanut butter to hide the fluff they tasted fine and the school cat will lick the floor clean.

I know I should be writing loads more at present but in keeping with The Principle of Least Action we are at the time of year when the least happens, it is a northern hemisphere thing the further north you get in the winter the less things are happening particularly in quiet rural communities where we keep our heads down until spring appears. As it happens there are signs of life poking out of the ground as things like daffodil’s start to grow and the Lemmings of Petrograd start singing the old songs of home. 

Sorry I stopped to watch the BBC Stargazing Live show so am a little later than planned with the post, I was interacting with The Principle of Least Action in way that shows its overall effect rather well.

David Bowie, the Squirrel and the Telegraph Pole

Well as the world knows David Bowie died today at the age of 69. Now although sad news to us the fact is he did have an interesting and at times good life. I think also there were more than a few times when he was somewhat off the rails in term of conventional lifestyle, but such is . . . or was the rock and roll life for many at one time.  Musically David Bowie’s music covered a huge range of styles, but most remember the old classics. . . . . It was ever such. Anyway all I can say is it’s a fickle world and Mr Bowie made his mark in it in his own way. And if there is an afterlife right now Lemmy will be playing a huge noisy bass guitar riff at Mr Bowie who will be smiling trying to look happy and asking if Mr Lemmy has seen his old mate Lou Reed about. . . . . . 69 may not seem old (well not to me), but lets face it only gnarled old blues men still have their mojo in their eighties and beyond.

So what did I do today . . . I fixed a small torch and took a photo of a squirrel up a telegraph pole and drank a mug of cocoa in a garden centre sort of place, removed a load of tools from my car that a cat refused too last night and ate cornflakes and some other things.  Life in the fast lane is sometimes quite slow.

That squirrel by the way is the little one the great fat beast is huge from eating all the peanuts we put out for the birds.

Not Winning the National Lottery

I will be back here in June, its a grand place

near Inverness

Once a week I buy a Euro millions lottery ticket on a Friday and a national lottery ticket on a Saturday. Now you might say that these days since they sneakily added extra numbers as well as increasing the price to two pounds, the odds of winning as so long that it is almost pointless doing it. Well I would entirely agree with you except for one small issue which now has me trapped. You see since the lottery started a few years ago, probably a few more than I think. I have always used the same numbers on the grounds that based on the principles of probability I would win a modest sum sometime in the next thousand years.  Well that would have been true until they added all these extra draws and then added extra numbers, which now means the principles of probability state that I am more likely to win a tap dancing competition on the moon that win the lottery in the next five hundred thousand years even if I bought a thousand tickets a week.

I refuse to buy more tickets but if I don’t buy my ticket on Friday and Saturday how would I feel if the numbers I use and have always used actually win . . . . I would not be a happy chap so I am well and truly trapped not so much by the dream of winning but by the dread of not winning on the basis that I might actually discover that my numbers did come up on a week I did not have a ticket. I bet (no pun intended) there is a fancy technical name for this but sadly I don’t know it.

O course we all have our little dreams about what we would do if we won the lottery although I do have to point out we should all pursue those dreams as best we can and not think . . . . When I win the lottery I will. . . . . As I have stated you could wait many thousands of years.  But even so, I do have my little dreams about what I might do if I won.  I would not move house I am lucky to live in a nice place but I might buy a small second home near the coast up in Scotland. I love the sea and worked offshore while living in Scotland so it sort of makes sense to rekindle some of those old memories of being an old seadog leaping from boat to ship to platform to crane barge and back again.  And although it’s a stereotypical thing to do I would buy a posh new car. No not some stupid supercar that you cant even get a cat basket in, but a decent 4X4, I have owned a couple in my life and in both cases they were great but as fickle as a car can be, and if I was not nice they would do odd things. They never actually let me down and the V8 Range Rover was a hell of a beast as long as I never ventured far from a petrol station.  It once saved a wedding by ferrying everyone between the church and a house deep in the winter snow.  Sadly Range Rovers have gone all footballers’ wives in their image these days so no good to me.

I would also probably have to get a haircut as it is likely I would be told I could afford a decent haircut, and I suspect protesting would not convince my family that I would be much better as a wild reclusive and slightly mad lottery winner. No they would point at my shiny new posh car and say . . . You can’t drive that with hair that looks like an electrocuted ferret that has been run over a few times by a bus. . . . . . . . You see there are some things even winning the lottery can’t change . . . . Remember money will not make you happy, but it can make it easier to be happy you just need to know what is important.  And even if you do win I suspect you will find you still have dreams that you will be chasing it is sort of what keeps us going. . . . .

Artificial Intelligence and the Flaws in the Development of the Modern Robot

OOOoooooo how time flies which is plainly a silly saying because in reality it does not, although if it does then science has a lot of catching up to do. But of course all I mean is it only seems like yesterday when I was thinking, now what will I write tomorrow (OK that was yesterday). Actually I think that everyday because if there is one certainty in my diary it is that I really don’t know what I am going to write until I start typing and I am a terrible typist. 

I may have mentioned I got a rather nice book to draw in that had a chirpy friendly looking robot on the cover and so I thought I must draw some robots. Well as it happens I think we might just see a bit of a robot trend this year (one of my predictions for the year) because artificial intelligence is improving all the time. The thing is I for one am a little worried. . . No not that we are about to be attacked by our own robots or ones from outer space, although both options would make great diary entries for the future. . . No what worries me is what these robots will look like.

Lets just consider the history of robots from the point of view of image there was a time in the early days when they looked like men wearing cardboard boxes held together with tape, string and glue, with the workings of a grandfather clock and Professor Frankenstein’s left over’s.  But then in the fifties and sixties there were some good looking robots made and drawn. Then the technology started to catch up with man's desire to make a walking talking robot, but of course man has always wanted to make robots look just like us. So today robots just look a bit boring. I am not implying you all look boring. Even I look a bit boring even though today I was told I really need to do  something with my hair because it looked as mad as a mad march hare riding a unicycle on a trampoline being attacked by bees . . . Yes I was rather pleased, but I don’t think that was the desired response.

Think of it as the difference between the modern train and the old classic steam trains from the past, which one looks cool and which one looks just a bit dull. Now some will argue that the new one is efficient, quiet and comfortable but it  is all plastic and no style. And this is what is happening to the world of Robots. And if they do turn round and attack us it will be because we have turned them into boring faceless cheap but efficient imitations of mankind. Well if I was a robot that would annoy me a lot, I would want to look like one of those cool robots from the past and I would be asking us humans why I don’t and I would expect a damn good answer or else.  

To me it seems rather ironic that we could end up with super efficient robots that look like us because if there is one thing humans are not it is efficient (I am not even slightly efficient). So we could end up with robots that resent looking like humans and who are rather more efficient at being human but without all the rude and sweaty bits.

And why am I writing this today, because I drew my first robot in my new book. . . . . . . .    

         

The Nativity Scene, The Religious Relic and IKEA

Sorry it is not a great picture but it is a dark spot 

Now as some of you will know I am not a religious chap and so you will be looking at my pictures and saying WHAT? And quite right too, but as you also know (I think) I did make a nativity scene for Christmas this year. Not for any religious reason it was more a case of making homemade things such as the paper chains and the like, folk don’t make enough homemade things, it’s all batteries and iPhones.  Anyway today I made a box for the nativity scene to go in and I thought MMMMmmmmmmmm what sort of box does a nativity scene go in, so I have made one in the form of a religious relic so that in 10,000 years time it will become a religious relic. OK it is made from the box one of the IKEA draws arrived in, so inside it says IKEA which might ruin its potential as a religious relic. Luckily there is an old saying that goes . . . God moves in a mysterious way. . . . Well I think we can all say that is something of an understatement so who can tell and there are some well dodgy religious relics about in the world already.  

Now a few of you know that I also sometimes turn up in the world of twitter and I am sure I let that nice Kirsty Allsopp  know of my homemade Nativity Scene. But as I have found over the last couple of years if I turn up and tweet at a celeb or the like in cyberspace they seem to vanish faster than a seagull stealing a chip butty from a small child on a beach in South Wales. . . Now that is fast those Welsh seagulls are dangerous beasts.  OK back to the point if there is one. Well those celebs will in ten thousand years time regret not spending more time reading my tweets when my religious relic turns up in the Vatican proving that once God or Rob Z Tobor or both must have visited IKEA. . . . . . . . .     

The Chickens of Death and the Great Robot Conspiracy of 1927

I may do some robot based posts this year because I got rather a nice book to draw in with a robot on the front of it, and besides I don’t think I have mentioned robots much in my diary so far and of course we all know the great robot conspiracy of 1927 that was hushed up by the authorities. O yes they will never be able to suppress the truth entirely not after what happen in the ice cream van incident with the ice cream. . . . . .YUCK

Anyway I am running very late tonight and have only drawn half a robot so it may be necessary to use an old picture, I mean I am not superman (Knowing wink and a nod . . . nudge nudge).

I was looking forward to a TV programme tonight, but apparently I misread the title and so ended up watching something entirely different . . . . . . I was hoping to see. . .  Leningrad and the Chickens of Death. . .  I was told not only that I am as blind as a bat, which I sort of am without my glasses although I did have them on at the time, but I was also told that I am a complete IDIOT. . .  It’s a shame because Leningrad and the Chickens of Death sounds good and for reasons that make no sense I had it in my mind they must be Zombie Chickens from Space. . . . . I mean that is well COOL like an old 1950’s sci-fi B movie . . . .

WHAT IS IT Professor . . . . . . . IT’S A . . . . .

AAAAAAUuuuuuuuugggggghhHHHHHH 

Volume Six of the Slightly Eccentric Diary of Rob Z Tobor. . . A New Start

Well we start volume six of my diary at the start of a year, which is the first time that has happened. I must add up just how many words I have actually written because in theory volume six will take me very close to original target of one million, and the plan was always to stop and head off and do new things once I reached one million words.  Although I lost the plot of the plot if you get my drift many moons ago and my blog is now a bit of a hodgepodge of stuff . . . . . I am pleased to see hodgepodge is still a real word because it is one you don’t see much these days. I am not convinced the English language is as colourful and descriptive as it used to be, no doubt ruined by a combination of political correctness and text talk as well as cute cats on YouTube.

Anyway with it being the start of a whole new year and a whole new volume of my diary, some of you may be wondering if I have any plans. Well there are long and short answers to that only the long answer is very long and will involve me getting sidetracked by zombies, rabbits and a multitude of other things  that will end up with me mentioning conspiracy theories. So I think it might be best to give you the short answer to the that question, the one you have probably forgotten about, I know I have.

It was (Question)

Rob this Blog of yours . . .Do you have any plans any ideas about what you wish to write about this year, will it be new exciting and different, lets face it, it has got a bit mmmmmmmm boring and dull

(Answer)

No . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

So there you have it . . . . . I will be writing some Poetry again  and drawing pictures and pointing at things like Seagulls with a pointy stick . . . . and I have an interesting conspiracy theory I will tell you all once I think of it.

I hope you all have a great year and that 2016 will be the year when peace breaks out around the world, everyone everywhere will have food and water and everything and everyone is treated with respect.  

Now what on earth do I write about tomorrow. . . . . . . .AAAAaaauuuuuuuggghhHHHHHHH