Category: Repost (in part)

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Strange things can happen at any time…

on May 4, 2017

Another blast from the past, this one, and fortunately a blast not caused by 2012 BX34. 2012 BX34? What’s 2012 BX34? You may well ask. Read on, and you may stumble across the answer…

Oh, and by the way… wording in italics have been added since the post was written back in 2012. It would appear very dated without the additions.

Who would’ve thought something from 2012 as ‘dated’?

———————

The date: 27th January 2012. I remember it like it was yesterday.

The time: 01.28am That is important.

The place: Cheshire, North West England.

<Clickerty Clack…Clackerty Click> (Imagine the sound of typewriters)
<OoOOOoooOoOOOOoooOOOh> (Imagine eerie sounding music)
(I’ve just realised those sound effects also look like a train, but never mind) I never managed to get sound effects to appear right in my posts.

I was fast asleep in bed. I’d gone to bed at around 11.30pm (or thereabouts) and was so tired, I think that I drifted off to the land of nod straight away. I wanted a good night’s sleep as I had to get up very early the following morning as I had to run quite a few errands before starting work.

At 1.28 something woke me suddenly. I looked at the time – I have a clock beside by bed where I press a button, and the time is beamed across my ceiling in great big bold red figures. The date and the temperature is also there too, but I was only interested in the time at that time.

As soon as I knew the time, I realised what it was that woke me. A smell. A strong smell. A very strong smell. A very strong burning smell. A very strong burning metal smell. A close very strong burning metal smell. A very close very strong burning metal smell.

I have a radiator next to my bed – well, actually over on the other side of the Bedroom – on the opposite side to where the clock is. I touched it, in case it was that creating this strange odour that had aroused me from my slumber. It wasn’t.

I got up, and investigated all of the other rooms in the Mansion, and there was nothing to be found anywhere.

Someone earlier in the day had been doing some work with a circular saw in the Grinds at the back of the Mansion (I know, everything seems to go on back there!), so I looked out of the window, to see if they were perhaps now soldering something (yes, I know it seems unlikely that someone would be soldering something at 1.30 in the morning, but I had to look… The Grinds can be a hive of activity at times… It’s like those movies where the person hears a noise in the middle of the night and they have to go out and investigate it – only I just looked out of the window). There was nobody there.

I returned to bed, and the strong burning metal smell had vanished.

My alarm woke me at 6am. I got up, and walked out of the Bedroom, and across the vast Landing to the Bathroom (Yep, the very same Bathroom that occasionally develops a strange occurrence!). I had an extremely itchy right ear, for some reason. I had a quick bath and washed my hair (which did not look like it had when I went to bed the night before! And yes, my hair occasionally has strange occurrences as well!) but the itch remained. In the end, I had to itch it with a piece of tissue, which did stop the itch. But, on the tissue, there was blood. A tiny speck of blood, from inside of my ear.

I grabbed another tissue, and there was another speck of blood, not as much as the first time. I continued to get dressed, and as the itch had now gone, I set about thinking of the possible things that could have happened to me during the night.

Thing One.
I had been kidnapped by aliens, and subjected to tiny microscopic ear examinations whilst hurtling at super-speed around Sirius at 1.30 in the morning. With me being woken by the strong burning smell – which could have been sulphur (which, incidentally, is associated with extra-terrestrial activity) rather than burning metal. I could have been hypnotised into thinking that I was looking around the Mansion and out of the window, when in fact I was in a large white room with miniature probes stuck here, there and everywhere.

Thing Two.
I was dreaming. Which is possible, but I have never bled from the ear from a dream before.

Thing Three.
I hadn’t been kidnapped by aliens, and someone had been soldering in the Grinds, but they had been disturbed by the light from my clock when I checked the time, and put everything away before I looked out for them. They probably knew that I’d be checking the Mansion first.

Thing Four.
I hadn’t been kidnapped by aliens, or had been dreaming, but had been bitten inside my ear by some miniscule insect with a venomous bite that causes hallucinations at 1.30 in the morning.

Thing Five.
A tiny fragment of the latest asteroid to come within a hair’s breadth of the Earth (named 2012 BX34, it passed within about 60,000km of Earth – less than a fifth of the distance to the Moon at 4pm UK time today (This was 27th January 2012, remember!). Experts weren’t expecting any damage) had shot ahead of the rest of the asteroid. Instead of being burned up by the Earth’s atmosphere, it was super-charged, and shot into my Bedroom through one of the tiny gaps in the vents in the window. It then embedded itself inside my ear, where it did eventually burn up. And it was the smell of it burning that woke me up. And the burning itself!

Thing Six.
I hadn’t been kidnapped or hit by a passing asteroid shard or bitten by a venomous insect. No-one was soldering at 1.30 in the morning, and I wasn’t dreaming. I simply woke up because I couldn’t sleep, and then went back to sleep, thinking that I was investigating the Mansion. And, my terrible hair this morning was due to the tossing and turning as I tried to sleep, knowing that I had to get up early.

And, Thing Six-A.
The red speck on the tissue wasn’t blood, but a red speck on the tissue. However, as the tissues are plain white, this seems unlikely.

Whatever happened at 1.28 that morning is certainly a mystery. And, it looks as though I may have been thinking maybe a little too deeply into things as well… Me thinking too deeply? Moi???

———————

This post ended with me asking if you had noticed anything unusual at 01:28 on 27th January 2012, but it seems a little silly in keeping that line in now, after all these years. Although you MAY remember something – you never know…

Feel GOOD!MagicMysteryRepost (in part)

The Box

on May 3, 2017

I’d like to share a post I originally wrote in 2010, a couple of months after I started this little blogging adventure.

Hold out your hands.

Imagine a box, a box small enough to fit in your hands.

Imagine this box in your hands.

What shape is it? What colour is it? Is it heavy?

Open the box slowly, and look inside.

Inside the box, there is a door. An open door inside the now open box. The doorway leads to a staircase. Can you see the staircase yet? You can go through the door to look for it, if you like. The staircase is just through the door. You may have to look to the left or to the right, or it may be in front of you. It is there somewhere. Can you see it yet? It’s a spiral staircase, that climbs up into… what does it climb into? Is it a loft? Another room? Another floor? You’ll have to climb the spiral staircase to see.

Don’t worry – it’s all perfectly safe – remember, you’re holding the box in your hands, so you know it’s safe. If at any time you don’t feel comfortable, just go back through the door and out of the box.

You are at the top of the staircase now. Thinking outside of the box has enabled you to rise to the top without even trying! At the top of these stairs is a garden. A lush green, with many different types of plants and flowers around the edges, and beyond them are the tallest trees. There’s a couple of other ‘flowers’ too… a stream and a water feature. Can you hear the water trickling yet? You may need to go closer to one of them to hear it. Is the stream a gentle flowing one, or a babbling brook? Is the water feature a fountain, or a statue pouring water? Is the water clear? It is… the water is crystal clear. The clearest ‘clear’ you have ever seen, and then some.

Up above your head is a butterfly. Can you see the many colours on its wings? Can you hear the gentle fluttering of its wings? Apart from the sound of the water, this is the only other sound you can hear. The butterfly is beckoning you to follow it. It wants to show you something. Follow the butterfly to an archway which is on one of the sides of the garden. The archway leads to a room. An empty room. A completely white empty room. The butterfly flies to a corner, just inside the room. Follow it in to the room, and you’ll find a harp. Play the harp. You know how to. You can play the most wondrous music from this harp. Try it and see. Listen to the creative sounds you are producing from this magical instrument. Remember the tune you are playing. This music will relax and invigorate you at the same time. This is the music of how you are feeling right now. Not the right now in the real world, but the right now in this imagined world. You’ve enjoyed playing the harp. You can always come back again at a later time for another go. Or perhaps, you may be led into another room, by another butterfly, and find a different instrument. Or find something completely different. Something else that you have always wanted to try.

When you walk out of the room, you will be once again outside of your box. Back to the real world. Only now, you have a little more creativity within you. A little more music. A little more magic.

Does it feel good?

CANDLE7-PEACE.png

About the image:

Taken in May 2016 out in the Grinds, using a Galaxy mobile phone. Harp hastily added later.

FavouritesFeel GOOD!LegendsRepost (in part)

Keeping Legends Going

on September 21, 2016

 Another day short for time, so another cheeky repost. Or two, as today is concerned. The prologue was actually the first part, but needed a little extra adding to it, so I’ve posted it here with part one, which is actually part two:

Prologue

The Gods and Goddesses gathered in the Great Hall on Mount Olympus, for their daily view on the affairs of the mortals who live on the Earth beneath them. They always enjoyed looking down on the ordinary folk, in case someone stood out with a special ability.

One day they noticed Gerald. Nothing to write home about looks wise, slightly podgy in fact, with a receding hairline, but he had a special ability. He was a writer, writing a tale about a group of Gods and Goddesses who were so caught up in the affairs of others, they’d forgotten themselves.

image from pixabay

Part One

“I don’t believe this!” Athena sat down in frustrated contemplation, swiftly using her mouse to scroll onto the next page. “How dare he!”

Aphrodite, who had just removed her toast from the toaster looked up in disbelief. She loved to see people acting out of character. Even her fellow Gods.

“What is it, Ath?” She asked, spreading copious amounts of butter over the toasted bread.

“This mortal” Athena pointed at her laptop monitor, “telling tales about us, as if all we do all day is lounge about doing nothing.”

“But,” Hera had walked into the kitchen, still trying to dry her hair after her hairdryer had exploded minutes before, “he is right up to a point.”

Athena looked back at her monitor. “When you told me to look this ‘Gerald’ fella up, I thought you were joking, Hez. Obviously you weren’t. He makes out that we all gather together and just watch what’s going on.”

Aphrodite took a bite from her toast, hot butter ran over her chin and down her neck. “Mmm…” she started to speak, and used a serviette to wipe her mouth before continuing. “We don’t do that all of the time, but we do do it”

“Yes, I am aware that we do do it, Aph, but we don’t do it all of the time. In fact, we only do do it when we really have nothing else to do, and usually we do have something else to do, so we don’t do it as often as this Gerald makes out that we do…”

Aphrodite learned long ago that it is wise not to question the wisdom of Athena when she was on one. In fact, it was best not to question Athena’s wisdom at any time. She simply said “He’s only writing what he thinks.”

Hera, in a rage, threw her towel onto the marble floor by the basket, which had a load ready to go into the washing machine. “Get me my pomegranate, and I’ll arrange for someone to zap him with a lightning bolt, for his petulance!” She needed to restore some kind of balance – and her hair would not dry.

“Now there’s no need for that yet, Hez,” Aphrodite held her hands up trying to calm Hera down. Having an irate Goddess of wisdom was enough to deal with without a vengeful Hera making matters worse.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Hera glared across the cool kitchen at Aphrodite, but her glare softened as she noticed the grease stains on the front of Aphrodite’s pure white chiton from the butter.

Aphrodite glanced down and saw the greasy patches across her bosom. “Oh, bother!” She declared. She tried to dab the grease away with another serviette, making matters worse.

Athena started to chuckle.

“I know what we can do.” She smiled, and Aphrodite and Hera walked over to where Athena was sitting. They both looked at the image of a podgy-looking man with a funny haircut on a profile picture on the screen, while Athena was tapping the man’s chin. “We will pay him a little visit, and then bring him here to the Lap. We’ll show this Gerald exactly what we Gods and Goddesses do. We’ll really give him something to write about…”

***

Other parts can be found in my Storylines menu. Although the ‘Legendary Circles’ story has been completed, I have still yet to move it from the Current Storylines section into the Past Storylines section… and if you feel inclined to read the other parts to the story you will find them all there. I also have links to a few other stories in there, and need to add some others. It all comes down to time, doesn’t it? Ah well. One day ‘twill all be done.

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Keeping Legends Living

on September 20, 2016

As time is a little short, I have several fine, new and wondrous folk following my blog, and I have posts to post if I want to reach my target of 2,000 posts by New Year’s Eve, I’ve taken the decision to use a shortcut this evening, and repost a little legend I shared back in 2012. Hopefully my long time followers have forgotten this tale: well, a lot of words have flowed forth since then, but apologies if you haven’t – I’ll knock a little off your membership fee the next time it comes up for renewal. I’m generous like that.

In Warrington, in Cheshire, in England, in the year 1367, there lived a seamstress who would darn and stitch and sew every hour of the day. She would sleep only when she really needed to, and she lived to the grand old age of 98. She had a sister, who would nowadays be referred to as a flibbertigibbet, a gossip, a storyteller, and a serving wench in one of the local hostelries.

One day, as the flibbertigibbet was telling a customer somebody else’s tale of woe, a stranger walked into the inn with a strange package. The gentleman, who was well-dressed but strangely dressed at the same time, spoke gibberish. Well, he made strange sounds, incomprehensible to the locals in the inn, although he repeated the words ‘all’ and ‘thing’ very often.

Never one to turn anyone away, the flibbertigibbet gave the stranger a wooden tankard of strong ale and pointed to the man’s package. The man knew that she wanted to see what he was carrying, so he opened the package on the table in front of her. The other customers gathered around the table, in awe, curiosity, and nervousness.

The stranger gestured for those gathered around, including the flibbertigibbet, to stand back, as he unravelled the dirty cloth from around the package. The stench was vile. Some of the customers left the premises immediately, and others sat as far back as they could, still curious as to what he was carrying.

The flibbertigibbet didn’t move, however. Her eyes were transfixed on the webbed paw that was in front of her. The man then produced a sketch of what looked like a horse with a fish’s tail. He pointed to the paw, and then the hoof of the horse on the sketch. He then pointed outside, as if indicating a long way away, and said, once again the word “All-thing”.

Nobody present that day, apart from the stranger, knew what he meant. The flibbertigibbet kept hold of the sketch, which the man gave to her as payment for the ale.

As time went by, the flibbertigibbet married, and moved away from Cheshire… from England in fact. She gave all of her possessions, including the sketch, to her sister, the seamstress.

The flibbertigibbet moved to Iceland with her husband, where, on the very day she arrived, met the stranger from the inn, who was an Icelandic fisherman. He recognised her instantly, and gestured that she and her husband should follow him into a small building by the shore.

Inside, in a case at the back of the room, was the strangest creature. A horse with a fish’s tail, with one leg missing. The stranger pointed to the flibbertigibbet, then to himself, then to the sea outside, and then he mimed himself catching the creature, before pointing to the creature itself.

The creature is known today as the Hippocampus, or sea-horse.

Hippocampus comes from the Greek words hippos, meaning horse, and kampos, meaning sea monster.

Modern day seahorses are tiny, hardly monsters by any stretch of the imagination, although they must have been named as such for a reason.

But, the question is this: Did the flibbertigibbet’s Icelandic seahorse actually exist, or was this just another tale that she had made up back in the day? The answer to both parts of this question is no. The flibbertigibbet, her seamstress sister, the ale house, the Icelandic fisherman, and his webbed paw never existed… they were all made up especially for this post.

The Hippocampus however, did exist, as this map of Iceland from 1590 shows:


With webbed claws rather than paws, this seahorse looks nothing like its modern equivalent.

Which brings me to the point of this post. Legends. Which are better?

A fable / story / legend that has been remembered for centuries, passed on for generations, so much so that it is part of everyday life… or a brand new tale, never before heard, yet has all of the features of a legendary tale?

The thing is, with legends, those that survive seem to have more truth in them than their more modern day equivalents, no matter how much of a modern ‘slant’ can be given to the latter day tales.

In the days of real sea monsters, nobody would have batted an eyelid at the mention of a monstrous seahorse. Flibbertigibbets everywhere would have welcomed such tales and sewn them, either by themselves or with the help of someone else, into the consciousness of future generations.

Some tales, however, went by the by. They became the missing link. The reason why so many legends today seem to have more questions than the information they provide.

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Reminiscing III

on March 13, 2016

Here we are: March 13th 1066 1642 1968 2016.

I’m officially another year older. I’m not 24 years old.

And I’m still waffling on about past times.

Nibbles and snacks would have been available in the Orangery, but the parrot ate them all. Every last one of them.

It’s funny, the things you find yourself thinking about as time moves on. As I was typing this, the memory of the interior leather smell of a yellow Vauxhall Viva sprung to mind. The thing is, I’ve never been inside a Vauxhall Viva, ever in my life day to day as it is. I did sit inside one in a dream I had once – and that is where the smell is from. Very peculiar, remembering a smell from a dream. I also remember the early days of the Mansion through my dreams. Both are explained in a little detail here.

One thing that always seems to be perfect in my dreams, unlike the reality I currently live in, is my hair. Now, my hair has a mind all of its own. If I tell myself I look good (I used to do so often, on the odd occasion when I was younger!) my hair would suddenly leap into control and ruin said look. So I never really looked as good as I thought I did. But, I get revenge. The blog is an ideal tool for recording those ‘bad hair days’.

Hair aside, over the years I’ve seen some very strange things. (Maybe I haven’t moved the hair over to one side enough! No, I jest!) I mean how often do you see a polar bear walking down a road? Or snow in May? (Actually you can get snow in May, just we don’t normally here in Cheshire). Speaking of Cheshire; how about a United States Border Control roadblock in the section of Somerset that’s in Cheshire? Or even Somerset being in Cheshire, for that matter… Odd. Very odd.

I’ve also had a pull to the year 1642 for many a year. Far longer than the year itself, and I sent myself on a little quest to find as much information as I could about the year, in the hope of finding a clue as to what linked me to the year. I never found anything apart from very interesting historical information. One amazing fact was that the pre-runner to the microprocessor was invented in 1642. I wouldn’t have thunk that! I also tried a guided meditation which led me to 1643 but gave me more questions rather than providing answers. I will have to try another of those, just to see. I’m not as heavily focussed on 1642 as I once was, and that may help. Obviously, with this, time will tell.

I never did pluck up the courage to say ‘Hi’. I never visited this particular plain in the future again. I’m still missing astronomical events. I did start my book. And start it again. And again. And I’ve never used caviar as hair gel since. Oops. I’m back on hair again… or onto the Bathroom, thinking about it, although that should really have a section dedicated all to itself.

Yes. I’m not 24. I’m certainly older. I’m not any wiser. I still waffle. And I love it!

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