“With this epic collaboration you are spoiling us,” whispered Aidan Turner into my ear.
We had left the throng of the Mogwash Manor ballroom and had retired to the balcony for some privacy as I was feeling a little peculiar after eating far too many Ferrero Rocher chocolates. I squinted at Aidan, and then in a fit of bravado I whipped away the flannel that was covering a suspiciously saggy pair of greying Y fronts.
“You’re not Aidan Turner!” I screamed, “You are Mago, the German archeologist from a post I wrote on April 15th 2015 that obviously EVERYONE remembers!” Mago’s shoulders slumped in shame, and he slid the black nylon wig from his head.
“‘ee made me do it,” said Mago, “‘ee made me pretend.”
“That Device person, ‘ee is witch.”
“I thought you were German, not Spanish? Never mind, we will work on that later…. but why, Why??? Why would he do that????? WHY?????” I said, becoming somewhat hysterical.
“‘ee is after the Bottle of Greed! ‘Ee think Aidan could seduce you into revealing its location; ‘ee say ‘ee would share profits with me.”
I smiled my special enigmatic smile, kept for such occasions.
“This is all getting very silly,” I muttered.
“Bit like British Government,” chuckled Mago.
I glared at him and continued, “do you have my left wellington boot?”
“Mais oui, it is ‘ere,” replied Mago, relieving a passing butler of one muddy boot and handing it to me.
“Thank you, that’s the Cinderella thread of this epic tale sewn up then.”
“What ‘appens next?”
“Well that depends on you, do you want to stay in a narrative where you are forced to fly around half naked on an ancient octopus sucker bathmat? Or, would you like to be in a narrative where you wear warm clothes and have the status of historian/professor/archeologist?”
I felt my stomach grumble and regretted my overindulgence with the Ferrero Rocher – I had terrible indigestion. My chest tightened and my Bettina gown felt as though it was shrinking, whilst Mago appeared to be getting larger and larger.
“Damn that witch!” I squeaked.
“Vair did she go? She ‘as vanished! I want nice narrative, with the clothes! I want to dig up carparks! Wo ist she????” Despaired Mago, almost getting the gist of a German accent.
It appeared that I had neglected to tie up the Alice in Wonderland thread in a timely fashion, and this neglect would cost me dear….
To be continued over the Cusp….
Although there may be an interlude around the Garden Event and Halloween.
For the month of July a few of us have challenged ourselves to make a map. Dinah has already started, so I thought it only polite that I join in. Of course I am going to make a map of my fictional village, Mogwash, how could I not? But where to start?
Because Mogwash was created by my own fair hand I decided to take a photograph of my palm. After cropping the picture, and adding a few filters to make the lines darker [yay, that worked well, why did I bother?] I had this image:-
So I simply printed it off and traced over the lines…. and yay, I have something that could be mistaken for a map!
Yep, I went a bit wrong in places, my eyesight is wonky, like this blog, but it is the first preliminary sketch and it will change an awful lot through a process of decisions. The next thing I do have to decide is how big I want it to be, and what type of surface to use.
I wonder where the scout hut is where Mago the archaeologist dug up the carpark? Where is the Onion Gallery? WHERE IS THE PUB??? Where does Moonchild Etherington-Smythe live? Where is Mrs Fitzpatrick’s hand built alpine rockery? All should be revealed over the coming weeks! I kind of think I’ve got a lot of reading to do, and a hunch that I’ll still be tinkering with this map cum December…
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!
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….
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.