Mud, trucks, Curry and Corrugated Steel.

It is getting late; we sat down to eat a takeaway Indian curry from the rather good Indian restaurant in Montgomery some time ago and then chilled (as in relax not get cold), after a busy day.  It was a bit of a shock first thing this morning as we had to get up earlyish and head off to Mr M’s house to help move beds and shift corrugated tin sheeting and wood, we teamed up with Mr S and Mrs E (formally Miss I) who had been given a load of corrugated tin sheeting and wood by Mr M who is poorly in hospital. All sort of went well until it was time for Mr S and Mrs E to head off which involved turning a small truck round to get it back down his very dodgy track, and it sort of got stuck in the mud. It is very very muddy at Mr M’s house so this was not ideal and despite using planks and the like the truck was well stuck, so we had to resort using our trusty car to help without getting the car stuck also. This proved to be successful although we were all a bit done in afterwards and Mr S and Mrs E had to then whiz off to unload and return the truck to its home.

We then sorted a few things in Mr M’s house as his son is due to arrive for a couple of days, up from the great metropolis tomorrow.  And then we went off to see Mr M although he was not all that good today and had only eaten half a dried scone all day.  We were not with him too long as other visitors arrived so we returned home we were definitely flagging by then (that’s getting tired not waving flags)

It has now got very windy and wet which was what was meant to happen on the day of the great storm but did not, these things tend to happen on the English Welsh borders all the time stuff happens down south and then many moons later it turns up here. It is rumoured that we are one of the few parts of the world left where our phones are still connected to walls with wires and we heat our houses with sheep’s legs (sorry I mean logs).

The Ghost Writer also found something he made twenty years ago that he cant remember making although it is plainly clear he made it because he put his name on it, although he will admit he cant remember what he was called twenty years ago, but he thinks it was the same as he is called now, well that’s not very nice………..

I hope this makes sense my brain is not entirely working 100% due to a busy day.   

Knitted Beasts and Alien Hunters

It is wet today very wet and not really warm either so all in all it is not a nice day and not a lot is going on, much like last night where after I had returned from fighting off Banshees, Zombies and various Monsters with pointy sticks I was expecting at least one trick or treat visitor. I know it does not sound like a lot but as we live out in the sticks sort of protected by a large Zombie defence ditch and of course there was Mr Jones, alien hunter to the stars (alien . . . Stars . . . . .  HA HHAH AH HAH HAH HAhha ha ha haha hah ah ha ha) who was prowling about in a green alien suit in the woods shouting I AM YOUR FRIEND TAKE ME YOU LEADER……. Although someone in the village thought he said fiend rather than friend so started throwing turnips at anything that moved , including Guy who was dressed as a Fox (GUY FOX . . . AH HAHAHHH HAH HAH AHh ha ha hah ah ah) who then got chased by men on horses wearing rubbish Halloween costumes. 

Resulting in no visitors at all last night; last year a skeleton and his mum made it through the darkness of the night, woods, ditches, and electric fences so we did make sure we had treats to give people this year. I had even made sure they were inside little knitted beasts in order to maintain continuity with my diary, I guess this means I will have to eat them all myself  . . . . . . . AH DAMN . . . HAH HAHAH HAHh ahh ah ah hh hah hah hha ha ha ha  . . . .  I mean the treats not the knitted beasts, they will be locked away in the shed again until next year despite their little squeaks and squeals of protest  . . . . . . . .HAH HA AH HHA HHAH HAH AH HA HAH HA HAH AH HAH HA HAH HAH AH HA HAH ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

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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 Eve of Halloween in Rhyme.......... and the nice Steven Spielberg

It is the eve of Halloween

When scary monsters will be seen

And banshees scream into the night

To give small children a scary fright

And slimy clammy hands appear

Clutching bats and ginger beer

While gnawing red eyed rats attack

Eating the flesh from off your back

So tomorrow night on Halloween

When scary monsters will be seen

It’s best not to answer your front door

Better to read the diary of………

Rob

Z

TOBOR

HAH HHAH HAH AHH HAH HAH HA HAH h hha hah ah ha hah ah ha hah ah ha hahh ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha ha ha……….

Yes I have written a scary tale for tomorrow  . . . . . The greatest (knitting) horror story ever told . . . . .almost.  An excellent film idea for the very nice Steven Spielberg.