Category Archives: Bottled

An Error of Sorts….

1st April 2015

Bottled Love…

I winced as I read the comments on my previous post. How could I have made such a glaring error? No, not the one about the lion feasting on caribou… but the one that alluded to time travel. Thanks to the wonders of modern day technology I could, and would, rectify my omission. But this was not the same as getting it right the first time and my legion of readers, followers, trolls, pixies, and people who regularly clicked onto my website looking for a crossword solution [please see Calligraphy Tip No. 1 – Thickening Downstrokes], had been left bemused, baffled, perplexed and perhaps even a little befuddled. This was not what they had come to expect from me.

My head hurt a little as I fiddled around in my WordPress dashboard, I was still recovering from my Easter over indulgence and felt a bit sick, but a post had to be written, mistakes had to be corrected, relevant quotations had to be found, a Pot Noodle had to be photographed, a used teabag had to be ironed, the sound of a vacuum cleaner had to be recorded, and invitations had to be delivered…

An Invitation of Sorts….

27 Replies

8th April 2015

Taramind Dewhurst, the immaculately groomed curator of The Onion Gallery, held the envelope in her grubby little hands. She had always had small hands, even as a child, they were delicate but had a firm grasp on her paperwork. She turned the envelope over and caressed her name and address, which felt raised, as if embossed.

A double constrictor knot…

Not printed then, she purred, knitting her brows into a double constrictor knot, which is unflattering on anyone of any age. Taramind was familiar with the craft of calligraphy and it was not a craft that she particularly cared for, she preferred the clean lines and balanced features of printed fonts, but she had to concede that this calligraphy had an awkward, yet modern charm. She hesitated before ripping the envelope open, as a lion would do before feasting on a caribou, and tried to guess the nature of the invitation, because surely this had to be an invitation?
She reached across her desk for her letter opener. Taking the antique bronze dagger from its sheath she made an opening incision, thus removing precisely 2mm from the top of the envelope. Within the envelope were two pieces of brown cardboard that were taped together to protect the inner content. With a concentration that caused her brows to knit once more, this time into a pair of socks, Taramind picked at the tape with her manicured nails. Two hours and one broken nail later, Taramind placed the contents on her blotter.
What sort of game is this? She wondered in italics. Why would anyone send her a photograph of a Pot Noodle? She turned the photograph over. There was a date, 21st November 2045, and an address for a village hall in a place called Mogwash….

modern-copperplate-calligraphy-address-uk

An invitation of sorts….

And where it all ends…

29 Replies

Back in July I began uploading this here blog about Mogwash – my first blog, the one I started back in 2006, originally on WordPress.org. Anyhow, it is done now, I have uploaded and edited the original posts… and added some fresh content. This was my summer project. I did this to re-engage with my creative writing, creative writing being the reason I started to blog in the first place… I thought it might help to remind myself why I turn up here, tap on keys, and press the publish button. I’ve enjoyed this project, and I’d like to spend more time writing, but not necessarily blog posts… I want to carry on writing my book… back in 2010 I managed to write 20,000 words…. I might only keep 2000 of them, but I would like to finish it.

The Wonky Words blog will now revert back to erratic posts about lettering and calligraphy… although maybe not in the same vein as it was before; one thing I have accepted is that I am totally crap at graphic design… I was always more narrative based and three dimensional, but I like calligraphy, it can be relaxing. For normal blogging I’m back to the Blogspot, where I will occasionally pop up and say hello to anyone who still has me in their blog reader or on their blogroll.

I am so grateful to the bloggers and calligraphers who turned up here and read these confusing ramblings about Mogwash-cum-Luddley… that really was a kindness! Much appreciated! Many thanks to the Bottle Hunters on my sidebar.
Extra special thanks to Mr Peter Wells – A new friend and a good read; Mr Mags, Mr Lax, Mr Devine, and Monsieur Pain – all have gone beyond the call of duty and all five will one day receive an exciting map of somewhere that may well lead them to a great something…. 🙂

Toodlepipski.

A Mogwash Newsflash

14 Replies

News reaches us of the strange disappearance of Richard Etherington-Smythe. Speculation has it that the sat nav system on his ride on mower malfunctioned and he was last seen by friends and neighbours mowing his way through the Butterfly Sanctuary and Bee Reserve at Moggins Meadow, 5 miles south of his 25 acre ornamental gardens at Mogs Mill Manor. In the unlikely event of anyone finding Mr Etherington-Smythe, please telephone the news desk at The Mogwash Mouthpiece immediately. Please note, he is not thought to be dangerous.

Also worthy of mention is the aspiring graffiti artist who, in an attempt to emulate the popular artist Banksy, has been using his mother’s Cath Kidston stenciling set to leave his tags across the village, most extensively in the bus shelter, in the grade II listed phone box, and all over Mrs Fitzpatrick’s hand built alpine rockery [with water feature]. Please note that we at The Mogwash Mouthpiece will not tolerate such blatant misbehaviour; we know who is responsible for these senseless acts vandalism and will be passing on the relevant details on to the appropriate authorities in due course.

Finally, we have received several complaints regarding a website known as Wonky Words. Does anyone know what this site is supposed to be about? The Mogwash Mouthpiece feels that this site is in some way responsible for the German archaeologist who has begun excavation work in the car park next to the scout hut. His name is Mago and he claims that he has been given permission to dig for ancient artifacts in the area known as Mogwash. We would like to assure residents that we are looking into this matter and will report our findings in the Christmas edition of the Mogwash Mouthpiece – on sale in the newsagents from October 21st.

Christian Boltanski

6 Replies

“. . . the Christian Boltanski we have come to know is an artful construct, an out-and-out fiction that underscores the impossibility of ever really knowing anyone else, as well as the never-ending struggle to understand ourselves. It also suggests just how much a desire for meaning makes us susceptible to illusion.”

Gumpert, Lynn (1994) Christian Boltanski, Flammarion

A New Day, A New Bottle…

17 Replies

As a new day dawned over Mogwash, I resolved to put petty grievances aside. Sebastian and I could spat no longer seeing as our latest altercation had led to a ripped pair of lycra bell bottoms and an unromantic scuffle on the village green – we both agreed that writing any sort of sex scene purely to gain readership would be embarrassing, unseemly, and completely out of character… yet, somehow, the contents of Bottled Truth had been retrieved.

The Joker Bottle

As for the bottle of greed, it still lay undiscovered, dirty and abandoned, hidden in the hole where I had left it many months previous. It was time to be open and honest. The stark truth was that I had not left any clues on my blog. I understood that my legions of fans would be devastated and disappointed by this revelation. Those that followed my ramblings with almost religious relish, would feel duped and cheated. I had been brought to my senses by impending legal action – an overzealous fan had misinterpreted one of my quirky quotations as being a grid reference for a property just outside of Greater Manchester. Five prize winning flower beds, three ornamental rose trees and a garden gnome had been destroyed in less than twenty minutes. Naturally I would take full responsibility, but this madness had to stop… it was time to come clean, time to get serious, time to make riddles with real clues…

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