The Village Market and a Mad Vicar

(10...)

Today was Market Day in our little village, when I say little it is small just a huddle of houses. Although we do have a village hall (the location of the market), a garage, a health food shop and a church, but no vicar. We used to have a vicar but he retired and the new one went mad and ran away. Vicars are not keen on Zombies or Witches Covens and because we’re not that far from The Devil’s Chair we have both in abundance and they do like a quiet church for parties and general get togethers.  Something some vicars can find tricky to come to terms with.

Anyway back to the point. My wife and I headed off to the market to buy stuff. There are veggies, an ethnic stall that sells some nice shirts for £10 (a bargain, I have loads), a bread stall with very nice bread. They are a strange religious group, but seem a nice bunch of folk. Well the women are; I have never seen any men and the women are all from the USA. There is a smallholder who sells great sausages and bacon and someone selling interesting cheeses. There is also a chap selling ancient tools that old folk like me chat too and ponder tools from the past. OOOooooo and the man who sells me loads of bird food. . . . I’m sure he has trained them (the Birds) to eat extra.  . . . . And a few other stalls from time to time plus the option of tea and bacon butty’s on site . . . (I now have them as the occasional treat, not every week).

Anyway after a chat about stuff and then wandering home it was time for a cup of tea and a bit of cake and then some lunch and a chill with another cup of tea. A chap needs to rest after a long morning testing sausage samples and poking at obscure tools and complaining about how much small birds can eat.

After lunch it started raining again (I was not happy) but I ventured out towards the workshop I am making and did some proper work fixing a breathable membrane on the outside of the structure before I clad it. Thanks to the rain I still can’t fit the roofing felt. And I must take a few pics soon.

I then ate food. Pasta, so something healthy which means I can maybe eat something unhealthy later, we will see.  I am chilling again now in the office and the cats have not found me yet so it is peaceful and that is good.

So that’s it . . . .  a fairly uninteresting day in general, but this is a diary and folk dont leap about doing exciting things every day.

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  

An upbeat tale for Halloween . . . . .

Once upon a time in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska there was a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who without fail every Halloween would head off as darkness fell to go trick or treating.  Well in most parts of the world this would seem rather normal but not in the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska. You see the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska was run by a single and incredibly wealth family called the Hozzam-Blushfolds who as we all know are the owners of the famous Blushfold International Folding Company. 

Well we all need things to have folds in them or have things that need folding from Christmas cards to car components and as you might expect this has made the Hozzam-Blushfolds rich beyond the dreams of the average man.  However they were not a cheery bunch and banned Halloween many many many years ago and nobody dared to go Trick or Treating. . . . . . . With one exception, a strange little old lady called Cropella Clipclop who every year without fail would go to every house in the kingdom and shout . . . Trick or Treat. . .  No one knew how she managed to get to every home, but she did and everyone would give her a small treat.

It was all very odd because although the Hozzam-Blushfolds had tried many times to stop her she always managed to go out and visit everyone and she always said to them all . . . . I’m ninety five you know. . . . Although some thought she must be older as she had visited some houses for over eighty years saying the same thing.  And she always finished the night at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion where they would reluctantly give her the small treat she expected.

You see another rather odd thing about  Cropella Clipclop was no one ever asked her to do a trick, no one knew why but they knew that it was something you just did not do. . . it was one of those little mysteries of life that folk except.  And it was even odder really, because her hat and wand were cheap ones she had got from Woolworths years ago, so she was hardly that scary.

Then one year she said . . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating. . . . Well that was a shock to everyone, but they gave her a small treat as they had always done but were very sad. Then as always she arrived at the Hozzam-Blushfolds huge mansion last, and said . . I’m ninety five you know. I have decided that this will be my last year going out trick or treating . . . .  Well they were very pleased because it was Cropella Clipclop’s last ever visit, but the now very elderly Arch Duke Hozzam-Blushfold VIII sniggered and said. . .  OK . .  TRICK THEN . . . .  (OOoooooo well that was a big mistake).  Cropella Clipclop replying . . .  I thought you would never ask. . . .  Raising her plastic wand from Woolworth's and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Well no one for sure knows what happened that night but in the morning the entire Hozzam-Blushfold family fled the Grand Imperial Empire of BartaBiska never to be seen again and left a message to say that the good folk of BartaBiska could now go out every Halloween. They even made sure that each Halloween their now deserted huge mansion was turned into a theme park for all the people of the nation to have a big party and lots of fun, which they did.

As for Cropella Clipclop, true to her word she never went out trick or treating ever again although she did have lots of visitors every Halloween, until one year Cropella Clipclop and her large Black Cat called Broomstick vanished. No one knows where they went, although it is said a large black cat is seen smiling in the shadows sometimes on Halloween.

And so with that I wish you all a Happy Christmas . . . (sorry Halloween) . . . It’s the shops I’m confused.    

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.     

A Day in the Life of a Blogger

I have been at the village hall Market today, it is a traditional Friday event so I do try to get to it each week to chat to the locals and catch up on what’s happening. When I say catch up on what’s happening I am not talking at a national or global level, I am referring to the state of folks tomatoes, lawns and whether anyone has seen a Zombie or heard the Banshee in the woods. To tell the truth as a sort of nice slightly reclusive middle class chap who has a fairly chilled life and owns his house and gets by OK; but with a fairly leftish view of politics it might be best not to get into national news and what’s happening as I feel I might be tied up and burnt as a heroic or witch. I mean I would not shoot the last wild Polar Bear in Britain just because it has destroyed your entire broad bean crop and scared (or is it scarred or maybe both) the cat. Which is the sort of thing that happens a bit round these parts and is why sadly I have to announce the news that the last wild Polar Bear in Britain had a bit of an accident the other day while stalking a rather healthy heard of Blight free Potatoes in the early morning sun.  No honestly there are folk around here well into their nineties who can handle a twelve bore rifle like John Wayne on acid. Luckily they don’t read my blog or I would be in trouble for sure. Just in case any of you do read this I would like to add it’s a lovely Polar Bear rug and will make a great centre piece for the harvest supper.

After my weekly pilgrimage to the village market and my now tradition Bacon and Sausage sandwich, Ah yes they sneak a sausage into it now for extra taste, I returned home to continue my DIY on the almost completed kitchen. OK I stopped for lunch and had a few cups of tea and a bit of chocolate cake at one point and, OOOOoooooo yes we did have a short visit by a rather good artist who was passing by from Dartmoor. OK it is not easy to pass by Shropshire from Dartmoor without some effort but she was off to the dentist. Maybe to some travelling 400 miles one way to see the dentist might seem  excessive, but not in Britain, not these days. Anyway she is a very good artist and quite well known in certain circles so I will not mention her name. 

Then after the DIY I have sat down to write a little something for the Blog (this), not as easy as it might appear because folk do not appear to like Poetry . . . OK they don’t like my poetry, and politics is not good either. I know folk sort of like witches and banshees but I write about them loads, and I cant tell you about the Polar Bear because of its unfortunate accident.  We do have Pine Martens near by and also the very rare dormouse a few miles away and luckily they don’t eat folks vegetables so they should be OK, although I am told Dormice are very very tasty in a sandwich with some bacon. HANG ON they told me it was a sausage DAMN, I’m sure there is (was) more than one of them.

A hint of Harry Potters Terrible end. . . . Its the Wicker Man

Look out Harry Potter its coming to get you

It's the Wicker Man

HAH AH HA HAH AH HAH AH HA HA HAH AH HA H

a ah haha ha ha ha ha ha h ah ah ah haha

a ahah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

a ha ha ha hah ah a ha 

a ha hahahaha ha 

a ha hahaha h

a hah ah a

ha ha ha 

ha ha 

h a

ha 

ha

h a

ha

ha ha 

ha ha ha 

ha ha ha 

ha haha h a 

HA HA HA HA HA 

ah ahah h ha ahah ha h

a a ha ha ha hah ah ah ha ha ha 

a ah ha ha hah ah ah ah ha hah ah ha ha hah 

a ha hah ah ah ah ah ha ha ha hah ah ah ha ha hah ha 

HARRY POTTER meets EDWARD LEAR and it ends Badly

Ron Weasley and Miss Granger went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat,

They took some honey, and plenty of money,

Wrapped up in the hand written curse of the goat.

Hermione looked up to the stars above,

And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Ronnie! O Ronnie, my love,

 What a Gingery Wizard you are,

            You are,

            You are!

What a gingery Wizard you are!"

II

Ron Weasley said to Miss Granger, "You elegant fowl!

How charmingly sweet you sing!

O let us be married! too long we have tarried:

But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land that Gandalf knows

And there in a wood Voldemort stood

With a ring at the end of his nose,

             His nose,

             His nose,

 With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

"Dear Voldemort, are you willing to sell for one shilling

 Your ring?" Said Voldemort, "I’d much rather kill."

So they both ran away, and hid deep in the hay

By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;  

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

Voldemort killed them by the light of the moon,

             The moon,

             The moon,

Killed them by the light of the moon

DAMN another sad ending

HAH H HAH AH ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ah ah ah ah ah hah ahah ah h hhaha hah ah ah ah ah ah ha ha ha h ha ah ha h ha ha h h hah a hah ah ah ah ha ah ah ah ha ha ha ah haaha hahah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ha ha ha. 

The Origin of Halloween . . Big Questions Answered

Halloween what’s that all about then, is definitely one of the big questions of the moment and it is time someone answered it properly. If you search cyberspace you will be bombarded with loads of stuff, but it will all be a bit wishy washy (no not as in Pantomime but as in vague).  This is what always happens when paganism meets religion, but not here no, you will get to know exactly what’s going on.

Firstly it is important to take note of the time of year, and the weather, this year in Britain is a classic to explain why this all started up. We had a fairly good summer and the sun sort of held on over September and then October arrived and the weather has crashed big time, it is dull, damp and getting cold.  So way back in the days when we were all tribal and waved sticks and worshipped the sun and the like (the good old days) what did folk do to get themselves through the long hard winters, remember there was no central heating unless you were a Roman. Well they had parties or as we like to call them now Rituals, yes everyone likes a party but in general we need a reason for them stuff like birthdays, passing exams, catching your first crocodile and the like.  Back in the old days folk would associate these events with their local god and Halloween also got linked to celebrating the dead. Things were different then, death was not all gravestones tears and flowers, it was big fires feasting and dressing up.  Remember the old ancestors did not vanish they were and are still about and it was good manners to show some respect an maybe burn a huge effigy of an Elk and wear a big mask and go and visit all the locals, eat, drink, dance, cheer and wave pointy sticks.

However main stream religion got involved and said it was a Christian event in a cunning plan to get rid of all these other gods and effigies. But old customs are difficult to get rid of and before you know it small children were doing trick or treat all over the world. In particular the whole event appealed to the USA having arrived with the Irish and Scottish way back (they were good at this stuff) and the spirits of the dead were turned into monsters, mummies, vampires, huge things with pointy teeth, witches and the like. This allowed the corporate business world in the USA to make a killing (no pun intended) by selling all sorts of gruesome characters made out of China’s very best genuine recycled plastic. As well as packets of dodgy sugary things that are needed to give to the swarms of trick or treat children that turn up at your door sort of saying things like . . . . .give us stuff or we set fire to the rabbit hutch. . . 

These days with it all being witches and monsters and the like religion has got all funny about it and say it’s the work of the devil. They really should have just left it alone and let the pagans have a party for their long lost ancestors round a big fire and eating and generally having a good time, much like they do at Christmas. . . . . . . AH.

Anyway there you have it that is the Origin of Halloween . . . . sort of        

A Cautionary Tale of Knitting . . . A Repeat of Halloween 2013

It will be halloween again soon I think so I thought I would be lazy tonight and repeat last years Halloween story. Yes I know no one likes repeats but they do it on the TV all the time and get away with it so YA SUCKS BOO is what I say. Anyway I am thinking about writing a new Halloween Story for this year, although just at present the mind is a bit blank, it would be fun to kill off Harry Potter and his mates in some sort of terrible method . . . . . Nothing personal Harry with your multi million pound film franchise, Potter world and smug ways; while me the Eccentric Child of Cyberspace find myself trapped in the head of a grumpy old scruffy bloke who complains a lot.  

A Repeat of Halloween 2013 

A cautionary tale of Knitting 

Once upon a time, in a smallish town in the heart of the big forest lived a little old lady, she lived in a funny rickety house near the forest edge pottering about in her garden and knitting. She was a very quiet little old lady who wore a big black knitted witch’s hat. She would always smile at passers by say hello and then continue to potter about in her lovely quaint garden which was full of strange little knitted cats and dogs and crows and butterflies and all sorts of things which seemed to move about almost every day to a new spot in the garden.

But come the evening of Halloween each year she would put scary life-sized knitted children in her garden that would make odd little squeaks and whines and jiggle about. They were very very scary looking knitted children, so scary that none of the children in the town would go trick or treating at the little old ladies house because they were frightened of the scary looking knitted children that squeaked and jiggled all night long. Then in the morning as the sun rose, all the knitted children were put away again in a large shed with a big padlock at the bottom of her garden until Halloween the following year.  

Then one year a small group of children who were dressed up particularly scarily thought to themselves . . . . . .We are very very very scary, even more scary that the knitted scary children in the garden of the little old lady, so they decided that they would go and see her and shout TRICK OR TREAT. They knew she would be surprised and were hoping that their very very very scary costumes would frighten the little old lady and they would get a really good treat.

So as it got dark the children sneaked into the garden and up the path towards the front door past the knitted children who squealed and jiggled and made lots of strange little noises. Then as they were about to run off in fright the front door opened and the little old lady smiled and said OOOOOOOOOOO TRICK OR TREATERS . . . . . WOULD YOU LIKE A TREAT and the children all shouted YES. But to get their treat the children had to pull a long loose thread from the nose of each or the knitted children. As the children pulled and pulled the threads, the knitted children squealed and jiggled even more until they were just a huge pile of wool on the ground and the sound of the squeals vanished into the wind.  In the middle of each pile of wool however was a large box of candy sweets, the children cheered and ate them, but it made them feel very sleepy and before they knew it they were all snoring. 

  

The following morning as the sun rose the people of the town were out franticly hunting for a small group of children who had all vanished. This had happened in the past a long long long time ago apparently; once during a previous Halloween all those years ago a small group of children had all vanished never to be seen again, but it was so long ago it was now just an old fairy tale that folk would tell on Halloween.

As the towns people rushed about they stopped to ask the little old lady if she had seen the children, she shook her head pointing at the knitted children and said I AM JUST PUTTING MY KNITTED CHILDREN BACK IN MY SHED. The knitted children squealed and squeaked and jiggled at the town’s people, who thought they looked even more scary than normal and also strangely familiar, but they turned to continue their frantic hunt for their own children.

They searched and searched but no matter how hard they hunted they never found their children ever again. And as the little old lady put the knitted children into the shed she looked at their little eyes blinking with fear and smiled and said I DO LIKE A GOOD TRICK; before going back inside to sit and knit, and spend all day laughing hysterically with a slightly mad glint in her eye, while stroking a large knitted black cat that almost seemed to purr . . . . . . . 

The Greatest Knitting Based Halloween Horror Story of all Time....

Once upon a time, in a smallish town in the heart of the big forest lived a little old lady, she lived in a funny rickety house near the forest edge pottering about in her garden and knitting. She was a very quiet little old lady who wore a big black knitted witch’s hat. She would always smile at passers by say hello and then continue to potter about in her lovely quaint garden which was full of strange little knitted cats and dogs and crows and butterflies and all sorts of things which seemed to move about almost every day to a new spot in the garden.

But come the evening of Halloween each year she would put scary life-sized knitted children in her garden that would make odd little squeaks and whines and jiggle about. They were very very scary looking knitted children, so scary that none of the children in the town would go trick or treating at the little old ladies house because they were frightened of the scary looking knitted children that squeaked and jiggled all night long. Then in the morning as the sun rose, all the knitted children were put away again in a large shed with a big padlock at the bottom of her garden until Halloween the following year.  

Then one year a small group of children who were dressed up particularly scarily thought to themselves . . . . . .We are very very very scary, even more scary that the knitted scary children in the garden of the little old lady, so they decided that they would go and see her and shout trick or treat. They knew she would be surprised and were hoping that their very very very scary costumes would frighten the little old lady and they would get a really good treat.

So as it got dark the children sneaked into the garden and up the path towards the front door past the knitted children who squealed and jiggled and made lots of strange little noises. Then as they were about to run off in fright the front door opened and the little old lady smiled and said Ooooooooooo trick or treaters . . . . . Would you like a treat and the children all shouted Yes. But to get their treat the children had to pull a long loose thread from the nose of each or the knitted children. As the children pulled and pulled the threads, the knitted children squealed and jiggled even more until they were just a huge pile of wool on the ground and the sound of the squeals vanished into the wind.  In the middle of each pile of wool however was a large box of candy sweets, the children cheered and ate them, but it made them feel very sleepy and before they knew it they were all snoring. 

  

The following morning as the sun rose the people of the town were out franticly hunting for a small group of children who had all vanished. This had happened in the past a long long long time ago apparently; once during a previous Halloween all those years ago a small group of children had all vanished never to be seen again, but it was so long ago it was now just an old fairy tale that folk would tell on Halloween.

As the towns people rushed about they stopped to ask the little old lady if she had seen the children, she shook her head pointing at the knitted children and said I am just putting my knitted children back in my shed. The knitted children squealed and squeaked and jiggled at the town’s people, who thought they looked even more scary than normal and also strangely familiar, but they turned to continue their frantic hunt for their own children.

They searched and searched but no matter how hard they hunted they never found their children ever again. And as the little old lady put the knitted children into the shed she looked at their little eyes blinking with fear and smiled and said I DO like a good trick; before going back inside to sit and knit, and spend all day laughing hysterically with a slightly mad glint in her eye, while stroking a large knitted black cat that almost seemed to purr . . . . . . . 

The Woods and the Wood Witch and the search for the mythical Rankenzomp Beast

The more practical side of today was confined to poking about in holes in the ground with pointy sticks again, I know I have done this loads lately, but I am good at it; and painting dark things white. Although the painting dark things white was harder that it might at first appear because the white paint tuned a sort of mud grey colour. I guess that is what happens when you try and paint mud white….  However this is hardly that exciting and will not help sell my manuscript to the nice Steven Spielberg, I do not wish to give him the opportunity of saying it would be like watching paint dry while he tries to hide again in exclusive restaurants, who refuse to let me in for being a scruff and having no tie…  Don’t you hate it when the doorman says “No Tie Sir so you are Knot getting in HAH HAHAHH AH HAhah hah hh h hh ah hhaha …….tie, knot HAH HAHHAHAH HA h hahh ah ha…….

Anyway in order to liven up the events of the day I went in search of mythical beasts in the woods where I saw Mr Jones stalking an Alien and the Lemming of Petrograd who were hiding in a pantomime alien costume. They told me that Mr Jones needed cheering up and so they were planning to do a re-enactment of the movie Alien even though they had never seen it, as they said, Lemmings are not allowed in to the cinema. They were dead annoyed because the usherette said they were rodents and they have not been insulted like that since the revolution and their great strike of 1921.

Hang on, this is all a distraction because just as I was wandering home one of those Wood Witches turned up saying they were going to turn me into a frog, or a pig, or a ferret, or an alien with three heads and eighteen feet and three ears, or a lamp post. Still we all know that this is what Wood Witches say to everyone, after all their Bark is worse than their Bite . . . . . . . AH HAHHAH HAH HA HAH HAH ah hah ah ah ha hahhha ha ha ha ah ha ha.

OK I’m off now, I am going to sit on a Nymphaeaceae, or as it is more commonly known lily pad  and eat flies for a while ……… HAH HAHAHh ahah hahah hahh ahah ha ha ha