Away in Cluddunt

Well, after a verrrry long journey, I’m finally here. Well, I finally arrived here late this morning, the journey could only be described as epic. So epic, in fact, I thought the first part was going to end with a cliffhanger and part two of the journey would resume next week. But I made it. Finally. And almost all in one piece.

Cluddunt, for those of you who may be unaware, is an island of unusual scientific interest situated just a little north of Nordaustlandet and on the way to the actual North Pole. Now you may be thinking wasn’t Tom complaining about all of the snow the other week; what’s he doing up in the North Pole, where there’s tonnes of it? Here’s the thing. This island is like a tropical paradise. Palm trees. Luxurious golden beaches. Lapping waves (the sea’s a bit nippy, but you can’t have everything!) and the most delightful breeze you can imagine. The staff at the hotel here call it the aroma of the buttercup orchard, or in their language, cludduntsnyff.

The climate of the island is caused by a similar kind of phenomenon that creates the eye of a storm, only here its the Sun’s electromagnetic variance coupled with polarised and neutralised ionic particles, other ionic radiation and the slipstream of the gulfstream. They give out brochures on it in the hotel, just in case anyone who arrives here is actually from the scientific community wanting to study the place… with these brochures, they have all the answers they need and can spend their time walking the many miles of golden beaches. Needless to say, visitor numbers are strangely low, as many people regard the island as a scientific outpost rather than an out of area paradise island.

The brochure also mentions the cludduntslachtlachts; their ‘sleep lights’ or the Aurora Borealis which become extremely active at 11pm. I’ve never seen the Northern Lights in the UK, but knowing my astronomical luck, I probably won’t get to see them here either. In fact, knowing my luck, it will probably start to rain once I doze off on the deck chair on the beach, with the waves gently lapping away a little in the distance.

The Sun doesn’t really go down here, except for possibly an hour or two later on. It seems to be a warm twilight, if you will, from noon, with the mornings being a warm dawn. It’s just warm. Luxuriously so.

Cludduntsarocka, the volcano at the very centre of the island, has been inactive for – well, forever, it seems, as records have never really began here so nobody knows when it last erupted. There is, every now and then, a slight rumble and puff of smoke but things settle down. A team of seismologists left to explore the volcano this morning, just before one of the ‘cludduntsarockawobbles’, or tremors, but they haven’t been seen since.

My portable purple portly printer exploded at customs – it’s the printer I carry (or used to!) for whenever I want to print out one of the photos I’ve taken on my mobile phone. I’ll not be doing that for a while now. I walked through the body scanner at the rowingboatport (hence the epic journey!) having completely forgotten that I had the printer in my bag, and since it had been charged by the ionic radiation, the x-rays and infrared doodahs interacted and interfered with the electronics and my bag went up in a thousand sparks. The printer, bag, and cheese and onion butties all gone. The customs guard looked at me, and then pointed to a poster just above my head. It contained a photo of a purple portly printer within a red circle with a line through it. He also advised me that they are so used to this happening it doesn’t faze them anymore, but a part of me couldn’t help but wish that they’d mentioned it to me before I’d gone through the scanner. I was looking forward to my cheese and onion butty.

But that was then. I’m now here, on my Sun lounger. Stretched out. I’m now eight feet and seven and a half inches tall – that’s another effect of the island, this time the gravitational pull in relation to the North Pole makes everything more relaxed. Looking at the hotel staff, you can see just how relaxed the place is.

Well, time for me to have a slurp of my Cludduntsringo, or orange juice to you and me. They make it especially on the island, and infuse spices grown only in the orchards I mentioned earlier. They also have a lovely relaxing effect as well.

Oh, I’ve scheduled the party post on Saturday, to appear just after midnight UK time, just in case I’m not back in time. I do have wonderful internet access here on Cluddunt, so I may be popping in throughout the day regardless. I’ve also scheduled the Letters To The Universe, so all I can do now – and all I actually want to do now – is lie back and relax beneath this luxuriously deep blue cloudless sky which looks as though it should be freezing, but isn’t!


Sticky Fingers

Valnetine’s, by Fnigers

Valnetine’s is a snigleton’s curse
Love dup couples
Some on ostyers, worse
Sharing glanecs arc oss a crowsed room
Candlelihgt banshing away the gloom
Table for one with prics for two
And they only serve copules tir a meesoo
Herat shaped steaks
And fanyc cakes
With showoof couples
On expnesive dates
Feeding each other ices cram
Without a spon
Then left with sticky fnigers
Groan. Too much too soon.

And here’s the version in English (for those who can’t read Fingers’ expert typing) (Fingers is my Inner Typist, by the way) (and formatted into a love-heart):

Valentine’s is a        singleton’s curse
Loved up couples – some on oysters (worse!)
Sharing glances across a crowded room
With candlelight banishing away the gloom.
Table for one with prices for two
and they only serve couples
Tiramisu
Heart-shaped steaks
And fancy cakes
With show-off couples on expensive dates
feeding each other ice cream – without a spoon
Then left with sticky fingers…
Groan.
Too much.
Too soon.

Miss McRee’s Permanently Single

Permanently SINGLE DATING AGENCY

Confidential memo to all staff

Numbers are down, people.
All the single people seem to be going somewhere else. We need them on our books. How can we make sure that they remain single if they go to other agencies? We need their funds, people.
When numbers are down our funds are down. When funds are down, profits are down. When profits are down, we have to scale down our wonderful lifestyles.

We can’t have that.

I can’t have that. I’ve already given up the beach villa and that is all I’m prepared to do.

Get those single people back on the books, get them paying monthly, get them meeting all the wrong types, keep them single.

But importantly, keep them happy.

Give them a free week. Show them we care.

The new flyers with the increased prices will be printed next week. We also need to recover the cost of printing the new range of cards, and the black roses.

And don’t forget I’ll be away on holiday for two months from February 5th.

If this agency fails, it will be down to you.

Happy Valentine’s.

Miss McRee.

Memo ends.

Something tells me that Miss McRee isn’t particularly keen on this time of the year. I really don’t know why…

Running on empty

Disclaimer

More waffle to keep things ticking along.

Background

I miss the olden days of blogging. When I say olden days, I don’t mean the days when I first started out blogging, as I felt, back then, that I was writing pretty much to myself. I could hear the tumbleweed rolling along the empty corridors of cyberspace after I’d posted another irrelevant post.

I used to picture myself sometime in the future approving comments, replying to comments and commenting on other blogs on a regular basis.

I’d fantasize that my daily visitor numbers would be reaching all time highs, and, on a couple of occasions they actually did. On a couple of occasions.

Nowadays, they are just about bobbing along just above zero.

I appreciate and treasure each and every visit, no matter how scarce they are.

I used to enjoy the search engine terms that were listed in the dashboard, that visitors used to find my blog. Now the list shows ‘other search terms’ or ‘unknown search terms’, without actually listing the terms themselves.

I used to poke fun at spam commenters, but now all I get is Japanese spam that I can’t read and (being honest) can’t even be bothered to translate. In fact, I can’t even be bothered to delete it.

The thing is, I’m feeling somewhat deflated at the moment.

Possible solutions

I don’t want to take another break from blogging, as it is very hard to get back into the swing of things once again. Each time I’ve taken a break I’ve found it harder and harder to get back into being creative. So, that’s now not an option. Completely and utterly out of the question. Cutterly, in fact.

I’m reposting older posts because I feel that’s the only way visitors will actually get to see them. I couldn’t, shouldn’t and wouldn’t imagine a new visitor wanting to search through my entire history of posts since 2010 to find something that I had a little fun with back then, and on the same side of the coin (or the different side depending on how you look at things) I wouldn’t expect regular visitors to remember anything I’ve written years down the line either… I’m really not that up myself.

I’m only hoping that the posts I do repeat are as ‘entertaining’ as I think they are.

A blog isn’t really a place to entertain, apparently, but I’d like to know that anyone who calls by here, however they get here, has a little fun while they are here. Even reading stuffy old waffly posts like this. If I have to resort to (urgh!) social media to promote works such as this, then so be it. Or not, as the case may be.

I’m also my own worst enemy. Time constraints restrict me visiting other blogs and commenting there, as they also mean a delay in my replying to comments here. When I get chance, I visit, comment / like / comment and like as appropriate. Rather haphazardly, inconsistently, and seemingly without reason. No excuse… that’s just how it is at present. I really should work at improving this.

Moving forward

Well. Here’s what’s going to happen. Theoretically.

I may revert back to my original Me! Me! Me me me! blog title. The blog isn’t all about me, but sometimes it is. And if there’s only me here it gives off a nice echo effect anyway.

I may use another theme (again!). One of the boring ones, which will make what I write simply shine. That’ll prove the old saying that you can make a silk purse out of a sows ear.

I may pay for visitors from one of those pay-for-visitors sites. I don’t know of any, but if needs must it’s an idea. It would have to be a cheapo site though, as I need any spare cash I have to keep this Mansion and all the surrounding Grinds running. And pay for the staff. Not that I see any of them either…

I may advertise the blog on the side of a bus… or on TV. I don’t actually mean on a bus, or on TV, rather surreptitiously sticking post-it notes where any chance passers-by may see them. Telephone boxes. Post boxes. Shop windows. Advertising opportunities abound when you start to think about them.

I may write serious posts. Ha! Ha! Ha ha ha!

Finale

To get me back on track, blogging-wise, I’m going to have to seriously prune my reading list. Chop off those I haven’t visited in an age to allow me more time to get reacquainted properly with the ones I really do follow. The pruning shears are quite sharp, so I may chop off more than I intend to… ouch! For that I apologise now.

My links page will, as a result of said pruning, get a complete overhaul. But hey, I think that page was last visited in 1978 anyway. Check it out while links last! I really should be in advertising.

Afterthought

I’ve recently watched the movie ‘The Best Western Marigold Hotel’ (or whatever it’s called!) and one of the lines of the film spoke to me:

Everything turns out good in the end. If it isn’t good, then it isn’t the end yet.

Or words to that effect. It obviously doesn’t apply to this blog, because this place is ruddy brilliant!

Second afterthought

And see… what a good ending! No cliff-hanger. Apart from who’s for the chop…

Mwahahahahaha! That’s real evil laughter, that. Meant in a good way, though. Obviously.