Drawing and JK Rowling

 I have started Drawing again. Well I started when JK Rowling started posting the tale of the Ickabog via a link on Twitter (it was not planned to draw stuff, but she did say folk could). It was interesting random subject material being posted a chapter at a time which was ideal. It is good to be forced into drawing something new each day without knowing what on earth you may have to draw. Anyway it was a fairy-tale sort of . . . . I say sort of because I always think of fairy-tales as slightly different to that of the tale of the Ickabog which felt more adult to me than I was expecting. I was hoping to draw Cows laying Golden eggs and frogs kissing innocent passersby or giants planting beanstalks with pigs living at the top to avoid small children in red hoodies. 

I have never met JK Rowling but do wonder if she is quite an intense personality, She certainly seems focused when you consider what she has achieved over the years and those who follow her on twitter will know she tells stuff as she sees it. 

When the story ended I continued to use it to do my little drawing although I did have to bend the story slightly and make things up, but I dont think she will mind too much.

And now I just keep drawing. . . . Not big grand arty works of art, but small sketch pad drawings done each evening until I run out of ideas or steam. After all I have many other things to do so this is just a little task I set myself each day and it is good to create in some form if you can. 

So what kind of drawing am I doing I hear you all type well here are the last three . . .  make of them what you will. And if you happen to talk to JK Rowling do say hello and wish her well.

Harry the Witch and Princess Malfoy . . . A rather unusual fairytale

Once upon a time there was a young wizard called Harry, (no not that wizard) who was not entirely happy at his new school for wizards (no not that school). You see despite the common perception that wizards fly about on broomsticks they don’t. It is in fact a misconception brought about by that other extremely popular and well-known Harry. The truth is Wizards DO NOT EVER fly about on broomsticks it is just not allowed or possible and a wizard would be in deep trouble if he even tried. Only witches get to use broomsticks as transport and they are often seen flying to and fro, here and there with their faithful black cats smiling and looking ever so slightly evil. 

Now the thing is although Harry was a young wizard he had always dreamed of flying to and fro here and there with his faithful black cat smiling and looking ever so slightly evil ever since he was very very small. But all his life he had been told NO you are a Wizard and Wizards don’t use Broomsticks . . . Well this was all very frustrating for Harry until one day he finally thought I know I will become a witch. So he borrowed a pointy hat and a big gown and various other items of clothing from his friend Henrietta and went off to see the headmaster to tell him that from now on he was going to be called Harriet and was now a witch, Harriet the Witch.

Well as Harry (Harriet) entered the headmaster’s office the headmaster (Professor Humble-Pie) looked up only to chock on his morning cup of newts brain tea . . . What on earth has happened Harry has someone cast a terrible spell on you. . . Harry then explained that he had decided that he wanted to be Harriet the Witch and he (now she) was going to get a broomstick and a black cat called Tinkerbell. Well the headmaster was not happy and tried to persuade Harry (Harriet) that he really would be better as a wizard. But Harriet (Harry) was not going to change his/her mind now.

As Harriet (Harry) walked into class there was much sniggering and pointing and name calling but Harry (Harriet) had spent ages getting all those witches undergarments on and even Malfoy the school bully was not going to get the better of Harry (Harriet) now.  Then after school while the other wizards laughed and pointed Harriet finally got a broomstick to try and to everyone’s amazement was off flying round the school doing loop the loops and all manner of tricks it seems that Harry the Wizard was indeed Harriet the Witch. Malfoy the school bully was not happy though, and was about to cast a terrible spell on Harriet when Harriet turned him into a frog as witches do. Malfoy demanded to be turned back into Malfoy but Harriet (Harry) said he would only be turned back into a wizard when he was kissed by a Prince because that was what always happened.  Malfoy was as you might expect a bit annoyed . . . Kissed by a Prince . . . YUCK.

Well a few days later a young Prince called Prince Percy was passing and on seeing the large frog thought to himself . . . . Ah a frog I really should kiss it just in case, after all this is a fairy tale (sort of).  To his amazement what should appear before him but Malfoy dressed in a long flowing princess’s sparkly dress and wearing a tiara.  And as we know everyone lived happily ever after . . . . . . . . . . AH Well almost.

You see after Prince Percy and Princess Malfoy were married Prince Percy discovered that Princess Malfoy did nothing but complain all the time, particularly at breakfast. So in the end Prince Percy got a friendly witch to turn Princess Malfoy back into a frog, of course yet again he-she (Princess Malfoy) was not happy about this. Prince Percy never kissed another frog after that and eventually met a proper Princess and they lived happily ever after in a traditional palace with towers and stuff.

But it was not the end of Princess Malfoy who after a long spell living in a duck pond and several other adventures re-emerged into the world of popular fairy tales as a wicked Step Mother, and a very good (as in wicked) wicked Step Mother she was too.

As for Harriet (Harry) the Witch, she (he) can often be seen flying to and fro on her broomstick with her Black cat called Tinkerbell in the moon lit night sky, Tinkerbell the cat smiling and looking ever so slightly evil. And they lived Happily ever after too.

The End  

Harry Potter and the curse of the Mechanical Flying Beast

Young Biggles Potter was a rubbish wizard and could do no real spells of any worth. In particular he was entirely unable to get his broomstick to fly and it gathered dust in the corner of his room. This was highly amusing to almost all the other young wizards, particularly because he was called Biggles as well as being a member of the now famous Potter family. However Biggles or to give him his full title Master Biggles Isambard Kingdom Potter was a top class mechanical engineer and so he decided that he would use his own skills to achieve flight.

Well young Biggles worked away busily for ages making his mechanical flying beast. He produced a large willow nest shaped basket for himself and added rather wondrous flapping wings and used the very latest cleverly designed lightweight engine to drive a propeller. The design was a stroke (no pun intended) of genius and it finally meant that young Biggles could take to the air, something he felt he was destined for. And we can safely say he was a very happy young wizard (OK something of a rubbish wizard).

News of young Biggles and his flying device soon spread across the land and finally a large file arrived on the desk of a Mr Harry Potter in his palatial office deep within a large austere government building. Well Mr Potter was not entirely happy and nor were the powers that be that ran the great bureaucratic machine of government. So Mr Harry Potter was dispatched to talk to young Biggles Potter and persuade him of the error of his ways in building such a foolish and entirely un-magical flying machine.

When Mr Harry Potter finally caught up with young Biggles He was giving his fellow students trips around the Countryside in his mechanical flying beast.  Biggles was surprised, shocked and excited to see his distant and very famous relative Mr Harry Potter, but Harry himself did not look happy.  You see he explained to young Biggles that once everyone started using mechanics and science to do things like fly then it was the thin edge of the wedge; it would destroy the entire credibility of magic, and wizards would be left doing futile things such as sawing ladies in half, making rabbits appear out of hats or lions vanish from cages. Biggles told Harry that he was not the only person to have made a mechanical flying beast and that the Wright brothers had made one too. Of course Harry did explain that the Wright brothers had in fact breed a huge half Cat half Eagle (called Kitty Hawk) which was acceptable in the world of wizards and magic. 

But Harry knew that the young wizard’s mechanical flying beast was in fact the start of the end, the great curse that had been expected for some time now, and so it proved to be. Before you could shout . . . Look out JK Rowling is behind you . . . . everyone wanted one of the new-fangled mechanical flying machines

No one wanted to fly about on uncomfortable broomsticks getting cold and wet in the wind and rain any more when they could enjoy the comfort of a mechanical flying beast with its inflight entertainment. And so as time passed magic slowly vanished as the rational world of mechanics and science took over and today no one except the occasion mad old witch with a black cat is seen flying on a broomstick and as for flying carpets they have not taken to the air in centuries. And if you buy a small child a magic set today it will burst into tears and demand an iPhone; you see what chance has magic got in this modern age of science and rational thought.       

The Great Unspeakable Monster of the Underworld.

Harry Potter is not Dead he is just Nesting

AHAh ah ahah ah ah ah ah ah ah h ahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

ha ha ha ha ha ha haha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

Yesterday as we all know was Valentines Day and here in the village this means that we all meet in the village hall and have a traditional Sunday lunch, which is grand. Now being a very rural location what this tends to mean is that folk pile their plates up and eat huge amounts of food. In fact the amount of food folk can get on a plate can be a bit scary, but they seem to manage to eat it all. However all that eating of all that food has the slightly undesired effect of many folk needing to take a trip to the village hall toilets. Sadly the village hall toilets are not as efficient as one might like so when they get used on mass then certain masses get stuck in places they should not. This in turn leads to a degree of panic as water levels rise in the toilets rather close to overflowing while folk scream and run about.

Well the thing is as some of you might remember in a moment of madness a while back I said I would sort out the village hall toilets as my good deed for the community. . . . Yes that was very mad indeed. So as I was eating my cheesecake, ice cream covered in cream yesterday a voice whispered in my ears the loos are blocked and it’s horrible. Well there was little I could do yesterday so this morning on what has turned out to be the sunniest day of the year, I set about my task of sorting out the blockage in the pipes. The sun shining down from above and a huge unspeakable black monster of doom peering up at me from below, turning my spot stood in the car park into midway between heaven and hell.

Anyway after a bit I sent the demons of hell back down the forbidden pipes of the underworld and wandered home to tell all of my great ordeal as I fought the great unspeakable monster. The thing is no one wanted me to speak about it and said it would put them of their dinner, but I did point out the great unspeakable monster mainly consisted of yesterdays valentines dinner and it was alright for them but I had, had to fight the beast and encourage it back into the underworld.

I also took a brief trip into the Castle of the Bishop today where I looked at wool and pointed at some other wool.  And I drew a picture of a cursed wizard because I rather liked the image although all I can say is I bet he was not as cursed as I was this morning; that is one monster you will not see on stage (well I hope not. . . . Potter Poo YUCK.)  . . . . . .     

Harry Potter, the Cursed Child and the City of Towers

Well it appears my old Mate Harry Potter, well not quite mate, but lets not split hares (YUCK) is sneaking back into the limelight with a new high profile play in the West End. I think its the West End although I am not sure what it is the end of. Anyway as you might expect I know absolutely nothing about this Play because of several things. For a start off I think Mrs JK Rowling thinks I am some sort of mad loony who is best ignored hoping I might get bored and runaway again . . . Actually I am only slightly annoying because she is a bit left wing politically and tends to tell it as she sees it and I like that in a chap. . . . OK she is not a chap.  Harry himself has long thought I am a mad bloke who gets stuff wrong all the time, OK so I accept he did not get to Hogwarts through the back of a wardrobe, but it is a easy mistake to make. Trains, wardrobes they are very similar and he did insist in hiding under the stairs a lot.  Add to this the rather disturbing news that the established writing fraternity have got it into their heads that I am the worst writer in the world and that I should be avoided at all costs. Which is why you sometimes see folk wearing paper bags on their heads in Pie Shops (sorry I mean Book Shops) . . . .  it generally means I am not far away.

The one thing I do know about this new play is that it is set nineteen years later from the end of the last book or film if you took the easy route. And it appears that Harry Potter has been working hard in the Ministry of Magic all this time. WHAT that does not seem like Harry to me, OK he was turning into a bit of a grump bag as time passed but then he did have that Gandalf trying to do him in all the time. But nineteen years as a bureaucratic administrator well that is terrible, even I feel a bit sorry for him. It just goes to show how fickle life is and it might explain the name of the play . . . . Harry Potter and the Cursed Child . . . . . I suspect deep down Harry wanted to be an Astronaut or an explorer or a wild mad Professor, and I can see that at some point all that administration was going to make him crack up. And all that responsibility of a young family to look after.  So the wizard’s world of magic might not be all it is cracked up to be. 

The one thing above all others that I am curious about though is not Harry Potter or the curse, but the flying Birds Nest . . . . . . . . . .Now that is COOL, I plan to draw one of them.

OOooooooo in readiness for the village hall valentine’s lunch on Sunday today I made the City of Towers out of cardboard. . . . . . .      

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.

A Poem for the New Hermione Granger . . . (part two sort of) and my last word on the subject.

I have heard there is much disquiet

About a Black Hermione Granger in a play

But as we all know Britain is

A multicultural diverse

Sort of modern place to live in today

And besides there are many things

That would appear to be so much worse

Because it could have been Maria

From the Sound of Music

Which really would be a curse?

Or it could be been a chap pretending to be Hermione

Like in pantomime as chaps do

Shouting at the audience

Who in turn shout back?

It’s behind you

Or a huge mutant giant Squid

Getting her first big break upon the stage

Who on forgetting the lines

At a critical point

Then eats the audience in a rage

So I think we should all cheer and clap

And accept the choice

That has been made

Although I bet I get thrown out (again)

Because I sneaked in and never paid.

A Poem about the Controversy of Assumed Colour

Alice in Wonderland and someone else

also drawn rather badly

Today I have had a quite day pottering about and getting a few things done although I still have only wrapped one small present so far (YICKS PANIC) anyway two things I noticed out in the real world while hiding within the safety of my home environment. It is a nice place home and I will admit I am a lucky chap to be a position to have a nice home and family and few real problems in life at present. Other than finding a way to reveal my many talents to the greater world, while remaining a quiet modest sort of chap who is happier being a bit of a reclusive grumpy bloke.

Anyway the two things that registered in my mind that led to tonight’s Poem. . . . The first was the ISS passing over at quarter to five this evening (I did go and wave to Tim). Then I noticed that there appears to be a bit of controversy about Hermione Granger being Black in the stage play . . . . . I think the main issue is that folk have got so attached to the characters from the  films that quite frankly it has frazzled a few minds that they could be quite so different.

The result of these two events is tonight’s Poem, one that questions our deep routed ideas about colour 

When it’s dark

And you look into Space

The flying saucers you see

Are probably an Alien race

And if they point

A ray-gun at your head

Blame the cat

Or Uncle Fred

I mean no one

Likes to be incinerated

By a beast with three eyes

And if you ask a policeman for help

He will just say you’re telling lies

And Uncle Fred will wave his stick

And the cat will meow

And then be sick

On the flying saucers clean doormat

Which is typical

Of the average cat

And the alien will bleep

And maybe shout

As both the cat and Uncle Fred

Run about

As we all stick kitchen foil

On our head

In case the alien

Tries to read our minds instead

And as the cat leaps out the door

And Uncle Fred hides on the floor

We remember the wise words

That granny once said

“Why are aliens always Green and never Red”?

Harry Houdini, Harry Potter and a question. . . Is JK Rowling an Alien

It is clear that folk do like a bit of escapism, not as in Harry Houdini the escapologist but as in Harry Potter and his ordeal with the forces of evil.  I mean if you think the big two films of the moment appear to be Star Wars and Star Trek and there is much excitement at the short taster of Strange Beasts and where to find them . . . the next almost Harry Potter film. I say almost because I don’t think he is in it, it is not like the Hitchcock films where he sneaks in as a bit part and maybe says Expelium acrowfly at a passing crow turning it into a cheesecake. (WHAT?)

Anyway the point I am getting too in my long winded way (a cunning plan to make my diary look dead interesting) is that magic and sci-fi, aliens and ghosties and other strange beasts have a massive following among the masses in their various formats. And the reason for this is the desire we all have to think there is more to life the universe and stuff than just poking at wasp’s nests with a pointy stick and smiling at cats. In case you are worried there may not be, its OK there is; I know for certain but it’s too long a story to explain why.  But as I say folk need interesting tales and have done for thousands of years, and this sort of led me to a thought, one that those of you of a strong religious belief in any particular faith may disapprove of. I will not be religion specific because different faiths have different beliefs and different holy books.

And here we are getting to the point of all this; could it be that books like the bible are in fact the ancient equivalent of Star Wars or Harry Potter. . . . OK I can see that at least one person is not happy, but it could be there are loads of dodgy holy books that have caused all sorts of issues over time because of mankind’s desire to belief in alien’s magic and strange beasts and the like. And they all do that good fighting evil stuff, I mean who is the most likely chap to see a strange light (or alien Spacecraft) to follow in the sky . . . a shepherd. . .  

And if Aliens beasts and Magic were in the mind of man a few thousand years ago man needs to ask why, could it be that aliens arrived thousands of years earlier and have assimilated themselves into the very fabric of mankind. Is it possible that I am the last real human. . . . . Look I know I’m a human because aliens would not type as badly as I do and come up with preposterously loony ideas that are not only very plausible but probably right. Maybe all the Magic and monsters are red herrings so to speak (If you don’t understand what a red herring is and think it’s a fish then you are an alien for sure), or maybe these are skills from those early aliens which are now lost. 

You see one thing I have discovered is that if you tell it like it is, as I do in my blog then no one will read it. This can only be because there is a conspiracy by alien wizards and space bears to suppress the truth as told my me. . . . .  it would also explain the popularity of Star Wars and Harry Potter. I know it means JK Rowling might be an alien, she does have very high hedges around her garden that could hide a spacecraft and I have never been invited to visit. 

So if you are an alien and would like to explain what your plans are then I suggest that you. . . . . . . . . . Take Me to Your Leader. . . .

And I know the Royal Family are all aliens with their secret hand signs as they pretend to wave at the public. 

Festive Poetry where Harry Potter meets the Night before Christmas. . .

Yes its time for an old favourite from the Past

I know its another repeat But I like it. .. but then I would I guess.

Was the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Santa for Wizards would turn up there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of muggles danced in their heads.

And Hermione waving her wand, an eye in her lap,

Had just settled her brain for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Ron sprang from his chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window Ron flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to Ron’s wondering eyes should appear,

But a Drunk Harry Potter, with eight tins of strong beer.

With a little can opener, so lively and quick,

Ron knew in a moment Harry must be feeling quite sick.

Then into the night a voice suddenly came,

And it whistled, and shouted, and called Ron by his name!

"You’re my best mate Ron you cute little Vixen!

I’ve had a great doner kebab at a party in Blitzen!

but I’ve been sick on the porch! and the top of the wall!

but must dash away! Dash away! because I might be sick in your hall”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up on the house-top Ron he just knew,

With a sleigh full of Toys, was Hagrid drinking Homebrew.

And then, in a twinkling, Ron heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As Ron shook his head, and then turned around,

Down the chimney fell Hagrid with a terrible sound

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bottle of gin he had tied on his back,

And he looked like a madman, about to attack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose rather hairy!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like Banshees in the heath.

He had a broad manic face, was incredibly smelly,

And he shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was grumpy and plump, spitting bits of food on a shelf,

And Ron cringed when he saw him, in spite of himself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave Ron to know he better watch what he said.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

Giving a nod, out the window he then chose!

He sprang to his sleigh, and to Harry Potter gave a whistle,

And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.

But Ron heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Here Harry I know of this bar that is open all night!"

Hogwarts Academy of Modern Apprenticeship. . . A story of confusion

As we all know the changing face of Wizardry and magic over the years led to some interesting diversity among the various wizard schools throughout the kingdom. Not the least of which was the building of the new Hogwarts Academy of Modern Apprenticeships know to all as Hog-Watts. It got this nickname from its rather successful electronic engineering apprenticeship for wayward wizards who were rather more practically based rather than magic based in their skills.

Of course when the new wing of Hogwarts first opened all was not well, many of the old traditional Professors as well as students were far from happy with what they saw as a step into the world of Muggles.  It was not helped when a very elderly Professor Dumbledore told one of the new Electronics classes, he found the situation shocking. Which only made the class snigger as one of the students connected him to a high voltage cable to make his eyes light up, (not quite the sort of shocking he had in mind).  But times change and the days when a wizard could make a decent living from selling strange potions or fighting the terrible forces of darkness with a dodgy wand made from hazel wood were passing fast.

You see it was now up to the new enlightened professors with their Quantum Mechanics, Particle Physics and superconductors to attract the best students to Hogwarts so the School could charge the Ministry of Magic huge fees to teach the new (modern and progressive) class of wizards. 

Professor Brian Cathode-Cox Pixilation or Sparky as he was known to the students was head of the new facility and through his skills and guidance made Hogwarts what is today.  He is most famed for his development of the light sabre, the Death Star and his very popular r2d2 Quidditch automated adjudicator which he developed after several suspect referee decisions.

there were those however who just could not deal with all the modernisation and new teaching methods at Hogwarts and one in particular a Professor Rubeus Hagrid ran off to join up with a chap called Darth Vader who paid him a rather large sum of money for the detailed plans to several of  Professor Brian Cathode-Cox Pixilation’s inventions. Apparently they both lost the plot completely and had delusions of taking over the entire universe. With their terrible battle cry. . . . High Ho silver and away  . . .

I would tell you more about this, but I find myself sat in a dark cave hiding somewhere in Middle Earth with some sort of Hobbit critter called Dobby who keeps saying he needs to find the ring. I think he has lost the plot also. It appears we have to stay here and lay low for a while because a huge army of copyright lawyers from several well known films are in pursuit saying I am a plagiarist and a bad one at that . . . . . . . As for Dobby he is saying something about . . . ET Home Phone he wants . . .Rob Z Tobor idiot me so Thinks I do. . . 

Ooo o o o o  hang on what’s that

Is it a Bird, is it a Plane. . . . No it appears to be sword stuck in a large stone. Well that’s a bit odd. 

Alternative Mathematics, Demons, Banshees and Other Things

The square of the hypotenuse is equal to the square of the tangent of the circle that fits the volume of the triangles square and if this is dissected by the line taken from the acute angle to a point equal to the co-sign times Pi from the square root of the opposite side. Then with some certainty we can say the following simple formula is true

A = B*C(D-F)

Where A is the time it takes for the Maths teacher to throw you out of his course for wasting his time and B is the degree of confusion that you have created in the mind of the teacher and C represents the reaction of other students to your answer where D is the number of students and F is the number of students who have not actually noticed that you are talking complete gibberish as defined by Modern Mathematics.

Now on a sunny day I would be able to mention Mathematics in this slightly odd and friendly way without any issues, but if there is one truth here today it is that the sky is as grey as a sky can be and the wind is howling past at great speed. Yes I don’t think we are going to see a happy go lucky Harry Potter passing this way on his Broom, I think it will be Banshees and at least one of those Dementor things scurrying past heading towards some dark place of doom. Having along with all that grey wet cloud, arrived from some other place of doom and acting very doomsday as they all go by.   OK a few of them have waved, but we are all mates really but that is not something I need go about telling the world is it. . . . . . AH DAMN I may have just let slip. . . . . DAMN.

I may have also made the mistake of starting this post with the words Mathematics hypotenuse, square and tangent these are not good words to use to attract followers or readers. Where ironically enough, Banshees, Doom and Dementor are good words to use to attract followers and readers which must say much about human logic and thinking and probably explains why most folk are rubbish at Maths except a few weird geeky sorts who love it and have worked out that a Banshees molecular structure is based on a low density plasma that uses the principles of antimatter and radioactive carbon with unbalanced isotopes, well that and demonic possession.

Tonight’s picture is brought to you with the assistance of a small person who has had a bit of a tough time in life so far and now also has to speak to me (along with his sister) from time to time.  Where I tell them both of Mathematics, Banshees and assist them in drawing stuff. They visited earlier where I pointed out that the grey wet clouds flying past above us at speed were full of terrible demons and Mathematicians. Strangely they seemed to head off smiling and appeared happy so I must be losing my skills.

           

Ooooooo a quick arty Poem

Miro painted strange Shapes

Antony Gormley likes to make a Man

Monet painted ponds and Stuff
And Andy Warhol liked to draw a . . . . Can 

Eyeballs, Headaches, Halloween, Harry Potter, Andy Warhol and House Signs

Well all is quiet here and misty, very misty which tends to make it even quieter. We did not get any Halloween visitors last night but I think our long drive with no lights to guide small folk towards our front door until they are almost there is a factor.  No one likes to go to the strange folk in the last house in the village right at the edge of the woods where beasts howl and banshees scream even in the movies, so doing it for real in the real world is not really going to happen.  And I am not sure Halloween is like it used to be in the old days, it was always a bit impromptu with small gangs of small children scurrying about haphazard at one time. Then when we lived in the previous town there was a not so nice gang of older children who would scare little old ladies and demanded money.  It seems to have all got a bit more corporate and organized now or has vanished behind the hidden doors of those of whom we will not speak.  

I did finally get the new house sign attached to the post at the other end of the drive today which is good so next year at Halloween we will be the strange folk with the strange house sign who live at the edge of the haunted woods full of howling and screaming beasts. . . I’m sure that will encourage a few to risk all for a chocolate eyeball. On the bright side I do have a load of chocolate eyeballs to eat now although they are a bit sickly, but I guess eating real eyeballs in a bit sickly although not entirely in the same way.

After fitting the new House Sign I did feel rather ill as it happens and I have not eaten any eyeballs yet and was forced to take to my bed with a rather bad headache, luckily I have now recovered from this terrible ordeal but it is somewhat later and rather dark. Well that was a chunk of time of which I will never know anything about, I am not convinced losing bits of time is altogether a good idea bearing in mind the uncertainty of knowing how much we have in total to mess about in.

Well that is it I’m off now to chill and eat chocolate eyeballs or a raspberry sponge and cream, I did what I thought was a rather good picture of Harry Potter at Halloween in the style of Whats his Name. . . . Andy Warhol for the internet yesterday that I thought was OK but it vanished into the blackness faster than a small child on our drive at midnight. It is little things like this that eat away at the mind and make me ponder the futility of doing what I am doing here at times. . . . Never mind I will battle on.

Maybe its a bit  more Sargent Pepper meets Harry Potter at Halloween 

In the style Andy Warhol 

   

Double, double toil and trouble and Harry Potter and Crushed Velvet Sofa's

Last year on the run up to Halloween I did a quick re-write of a certain Shakespeare poem or was it Wordsworth or Jackson Pollock, and this was it. Now you might be thinking he is repeating stuff again (thats me not Jackson Pollock) but sadly today events have made it impossible to do anything else. Now I could just think sod it and not bother, but I am not that sort of chap so I am repeating stuff instead which is probably worse. It is a bit of culture though even if it is a bit like sticking a safety pin through the nose of the Mona Lisa painted, incidental between 1503 and 1517 by my old mate Leonardo who got a bit infatuated with the woman who worked at the local Spar shop and sold him Sherbet flying Saucers which in turn made him come up with his mad idea for a flying machine . . . . . Ooooooooo he was a bit of a one that Leonardo, it is probably best if we dont mention his drawings of body parts and his choice of soft furnishing for his own Drawing Room, I mean Pink and light Orange with grey crushed velvet . . . .    

AH I appear to have got a bit distracted OK back to that (repeated) Poem        

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake,

In Hogwarts caldron boil and bake;

Eye of Potter, and toe of frog,

Wizard’s hat, and tongue of dog,

Ron Weasley’s hair, and blind-worm's sting,

A wizards leg, and owlet's wing,—

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

"Mad-Eye" Moody’s hat; tooth of wolf;

Witches' mummy; maw and gulf

Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;

Boot of Malfoy digg'd i the dark;

Liver of Mister Sirius Black;

Gall of goat, and horns of yak

Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;

Nose of Turk, and Miss Grangers lips;

Finger of Albus Percival Brian Dumbledore

deliver'd by post, from the Argos Store

Make the gruel thick and slab:

Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,

For the ingrediants of Hogworts caldron.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Cool it with Harry Potter’s blood,

Then the charm is firm and as much use as mud. 

HAH AH HA HAHah ha hahah ha ha h ha h hah hah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah hah ah ahah aha hahahahha ha ha hah ah  HAH AHAH AHAHAH AH AHAHAH HA HA HA AH AH AHA HA HA H AHA HA H AH AA  

A Fairytale involving Fate, Wizards, Wisdom, Perilous Journeys and the voice of the enchanted Fleezleboo

Once upon a Time (yes its fairytale time again) there was a famous wizards conference, held every couple of years in the Great Kingdom of Eek, in the Province of Illuminations near the famous cursed lake known to all as The Black Pool in the town of Rowlingside. A popular location for conferences among wizards, witches and various other groups ever since that Harry Potter was seen scurrying about near Rowlingside fish and chip shop, before he became all religious and vanished forever into the Holy Wood.

Now as is always the way in fairy tales the journey (to the conference) is very perilous and wizards sometimes do not make it, due to attacks from the dark witches, monsters and various evil spirits. It has even been know for wizards not to go, but this is frowned upon, as it is seen as a rite of passage to prove the worth of the wizard and his skills at wizardry and cunning guile.  And it means they generally all have a great tale to tell during evenings at the bar.

There is no easy route as each has its own hazards, from the terrible Angry Mountains of Fear to The Plains of Madness.  However our tale is of two wizards, the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table and the foolish Professor Hamish Pikefish Flounder who decided they would travel together.  They had decided to travel through The Valley of Mystical Mists, a strange world that when the sun shines can be an easy passage for a wizard travelling to conference. But once the mists appear them it is said it is best not to move and that you need to take cover, and under no circumstances listen to the voices of the enchanted Fleezleboo. The voice of the Fleezleboo is very convincing and will tell wizards many things in order to trick them into fatal errors of judgement, which is why it is best to be a wise wizard rather than a foolish wizard.

Our two wizards travel fast and easily make it most of the way through the valley during daylight, but as sunset arrives so does the strange Mysterious Mists. Spotting a large Oak tree to spend the night in they climb high into its canopy, knowing that high up in the branches of the ancient oak they are safe. And so it is that they sleep peacefully until morning when they conjure up bacon, sausage and eggs and Scotch pancakes with maple syrup and smoked kippers. Happily eating their breakfast until the mist clears and they can complete their journey.

As they chat and ponder the vast sea of mist below them from their vantage point in the oak tree a serene voice from below calls to them. . . . It’s safe now you can come down and go to conference. . .  Well the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table is not going to be fooled by the voice of the Fleezleboo and shouts down we are not fools we know that if we do we will be bitten by a huge centipede turning us into Zombies and then earwigs will bore into our brains and eat them and then the Toe-dy Beast will nibble our toes and finally our bodies will be eaten by slugs.

Then the voice says. . . .  No No it is me, Miss Granger from those films, I am guest speaker it is quite safe. . . .  Well the foolish Professor Hamish Pikefish Flounder says . . . . OOOO I always wanted to meet her . . . and leaps to the ground. Well I think you can guess what happens. . . . He is bitten by a huge centipede turning him a Zombie and then earwigs bore into his brain and eat it, and then the Toe-dy Beast nibbles his toes and finally his bodies is eaten by slugs.  Well the wise Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table shakes his head and says he was a foolish wizard to believe such a lie.

He waits patiently in the tree watching the mist slowly burn off in the sun until it is almost gone, when the faint voice of the Fleezleboo says look out for that dragon I would get out of that oak tree if I was you, but  Professor Arnoldium Trestle-Table is very wise and laughs. Then the very next second a huge Dragon swoops out of the sky and eats him.

Which just goes to show the hand of fate does not look upon the wise or foolish any differently and you just can’t tell what is going turn up out of the blue. . . . .  But it is very unlikely to be Miss Granger.