The Wednesday Promise… and a vague recap…

From the Scarlet Blue Journals 25/10/2032


The haunting….

It is all very well to make promises, keeping them is altogether another matter. Somehow I have to remember who I am, where I am, and what I am supposed to be writing about. This might be easy for most people, but it isn’t for me.

During the long hot/cold/windy/rainy British summer/winter of 2007 I was involved in a dramatic incident that left me with a fatal head injury and a not unattractive limp. Since this incident I have been trying to piece together fragments of a cherished project that I had been working on prior to this life changing event.

Sometimes I am haunted by black and white images featuring bottles. Sometimes I feel a compulsive urge to address grey envelopes, with white calligraphy, to long lost strangers who lurk in the smutted crevices of my memory. Sometimes I have completely lucid moments when I can recall the names of characters who are relevant to the plot… such as Sebastian, Moonchild, Rupert Etherington-Smythe… and there is another indistinct character I see, a character who digs up a car park next to a scout hut in a place called Mogwash… yes, I remember — a German archaeologist called Mago. Lovely Mago! And he is searching for something! After reading a series of nonsensical ramblings on a disused WordPress blog he came to believe that a great fortune was buried within the vicinity of a small English village called Luddley-cum-Mogwash. I see him with a map which, after a scuffle and some energetic Morris dancing, was taken from him, confiscated before he was deported.

Oh what a fuss that old blog caused!


An Incident…

In my darkest hour I remember that it is I who is responsible for creating this pother; this tumult; this pandemonium. In my darkest hour I remember that it was I who created, and buried, the Bottle of Greed….

24 thoughts on “The Wednesday Promise… and a vague recap…

  1. Peter Wells aka Countingducks

    A richly dark tale of grubby digging and Morris Dancing. That bottle of greed must be quite big, and been spilt a fair few times in its existence. I am enjoying your Wednesday posts, and admire the self-discipline involved in sticking to a schedule.

    1. Scarlet Post author

      I know! This is my 5th Wednesday is a row!! Even I’m impressed.
      I think it may take a smidge more discipline to publish a book AND write regular blog posts?!! Congrats, Mr Ducks 🙂

  2. IDV

    Oh, no! Poor Mago. Fancy being Morris Danced at. I hope he’s all right…

    :: prepares selves for reimmersing in the confusion surrounding the Bottle of Greed ::

    :: and also resolves to swot up on the playing of Clue as feels this can only help towards discovering who did what, where, and to whom in and around Mogwash ::

  3. dinahmow

    Hmmm…I think I need more coffee before I can untangle this. I mean, what would b e the legalities involved if someone *did* find the bottle? I think you have to declare such things as “treasure trove” and a chap from Westminster comes and verifies its provenance, then makes you hand it over to the V an A. But I’m not sure if Morris Men fall under that category.
    Oh dear….

  4. Scarlet

    We will have no talk of Men from Westminster on this blog, Dinah!! Far too much of that sort of thing going on around me at the minute!
    Nice idea for the Bottle of Greed to turn up at the V&A… I will ponder the logistics of that one.

  5. lisleman

    As a father, I too often make a pother. Excuse me I was just practicing my new vocabulary word. This old buried bottle reminds me of the recent bones of one your old kings under a car park. Such strange things buried everywhere I suppose.

  6. Leni Qinan

    You learn something new every day! (Pother; another word in my Burdish vocabulary).
    And Morris dancers — I had only seen them in “Life of Brian”. I thought they were a comic troupe whose leader was a guy called Morris and his dancer friends! Excuse my ignorance!
    Good thing Google has answers to almost everything. 🙂

    1. Scarlet Post author

      Beware the Morris Dancers, Leni!! They pop up all over the place doing some sort of incomprehensible jig with bells, ribbons and sticks. Have you ever seen the Wicker Man? Scary stuff!

  7. Princess

    Pandaminium? What! They’re building high-rises for panda’s now? Times have changed in old blighty
    That poor archaeologist from Germany must still be trying to bleach his eyes from witnessing such horror…

    1. Scarlet Post author

      We will do anything for pandas in this country, Princess!! Even Internet dating.
      It seems that Mr Mags has buried himself to escape the horror – please see the picture kindly supplied by Blaise Vincent.

  8. Blaise Vincent

    25 ans. Je me souviens Mago, mais perdu le contact vers 2010. Il a essayé de se faufiler dans le pays, mais sa pelle le trahissait. Ils lui ont finalement pelleté en arrière sur la Manche et il est allé Sud. Certains disent qu’il est allé directement aux Cévennes, peut-être avec un âne, sûrement avec sa pelle.
    D’autres disent qu’il avait tourné à la maison et vit la vie d’un reclus, en prenant soin pour la chapelle d’une douteuse St. Eiger (St. Ogre?) Il a construit de ses propres mains dans la forêt de Saint-Eiger, bien nommé. Certaines personnes prétendent même l’avoir vu dans la fin des années 2020. Il est possible qu’il est fait dans ce domaine, vagabonds ont parlé de “signes”, au hasard gauche caché dans le paysage, il a toujours eu une strie clandestine.

    Blaise Vincent

    1. Scarlet Post author

      Hello and Welcome… Blaise Vincent!! Bear with me whilst I consult my French dictionary… but I am concerned that this new evidence apparently shows Mr Mags buried beneath a lump of turf in a Norweigian woodland?

    1. Scarlet Post author

      This is a very good question, Ponita… he may well be a character from a previous story circa 1995 – let’s not go there 🙂

  9. Jon

    Still as befogged as before but félicitations (I guess) for keeping up your promise. Chaos can be more revealing or appealing (or both) than order… sometimes.

    Demain, c’est mercredi, n’est-ce pas?


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