Wednesday, 21 December 2011

The Rebirth of the Oak King

Mother Earth I offer to you this song

For I am earth

and to the Earth, I belong

Mother Earth

help me grow as you need me to

Mother Earth

show me what I am here to do

'Cause I am growing, I am changing

on this darkest day

I am growing, I am changing

in my darkest place

I am growing, I am changing

on this darkest day

I am growing, I am changing

in my darkest place

Blessed Be!

On this shortest day of the year my thoughts turn to the more spiritual things,
however, the casual observer may not agree as I sit here eating Pringles and listening
to 'smells like teen spirit' at a fairly hefty volume. Dartmoor doesn't appear to be
doing its winter sleep as usual, and in turn it is confusing my hibernation
schedule and for those who know me, if my routine gets broken I can become
quite unsettled. The illicit and highly improbable love child of Abby Sciuto and
Sheldon Cooper has been launched comparatively in my direction.....if it
weren't true I would say NOT fact I will say NOT FUNNY
anyway just to provoke stimulating confrontation.

"He painted in the dark until he went completely mad....either that
or he died of lead poisoning"

Painting is now back on the agenda as I have recently rediscovered my mojo in a
visionary and most spectacular fashion. A long distant friend has breezed
through my art career which was just enough to start the Amelia Monster
springing back to life again. His huge success has been an inspiration which is
good....what is not good is the fact that I have been painting all week and I
have been neglecting Christmas present buying duties, so what better day to
finish my reluctant journey into consumerism than tomorrow's winter solstice
although I just know Costas coffee will be luring me into her depths via the
overpowering spell of the bean.

"Orange is this season's black"

Ok...not really. The big dramatic change to my appearance was the subtle colour
change to my hair from raven black to pre raphaelite fire maiden, or jaffa cake orange
as it was also called, so once again.....NOT FUNNY! The main drawback
was that every mirror I passed, there in front of me was the Lady of Shallot
staring back at me. I suspect that the December backdrop wasn't exactly the correct time
of year that Millais had envisaged the colouring to be set, and with that firmly fixed
in my mind, a hour of messing around with dye and scissors and hey presto, Bettie
Page is back in the Devonian longhouse.

"I managed to fix the clock...and I have all these bits left over"

My very old clock has been acting up and chiming at bizarre times. When asking
someone in the know about what the problem may be, there came the reply
"have you tried turning it off and on again" followed by hysterical laughter.
NOT FU.........well you know what I said by now. The clock is now working again
but other things are acting up (and the full moon has long passed so it's
not that) My iPad has started doing weird things to apps..Moomin with her
identical tablet with identical apps isn't having trouble. I think that the further up the
valley from Bovey that one goes, technology seems to become overwhelmed by
granite crystal energy (as I mentioned in a previous post) The Apple store hate it
when I come in and blame crystal energy playing a huge part in corrupting
their IOS devices, I need lead lined covers for my technology around the home.

"and now for something completely different"

Food has been playing a starring role in the lead up to Christmas. Picky teas and mad
hatter's tea parties, all washed down with copious amounts of cider have been
on the agenda. Dancing around the front room to the Monster Ball again as we
sang along to the full Gaga repertoire. Sleeping....well at last. Purchasing even
more shoes via the powers of Amazon. Watching lost ramblers pass the house, not
once but four times......NOT FUNNY FOR THEM...highly amusing for us. Making
more clothes by hand and turning my fingers into pin cushions as I watched
Diagnosis Murder in a Dick Van Dykeathon. Most of all....looking forward to
Christmas with friends and family.

So tomorrow morning I shall be up at five thirty and lighting the candle to welcome
the sun back into our lives. After spending a deeply relaxed morning, this fair
maiden will leave her homestead to do battle with the fearsome dragons and
trolls of the village as they shop for last minute Christmas presents.
Happy Yuletide good people x

Sunday, 6 November 2011

Closing the Circle

Mulled wine, I really want some mulled wine...having returned to the shire from
another epic journey, my mind has started its November cravings fairly early.
The six day pout is now wearing off, having missed my two best friend's
Wiccan blessing at the Cleave (all gothic faeries and steampunk I am to believe)
but the coming winter solstice should rectify that with another wonderful
get together of mooky individuals.
Another strange and re-emerging obsession is my winter wardrobe. A previous post
concentrated on the average Dartmoor based girl's leg and the seemingly impossible
task to find boots that agree with the dimensions of the calf....well, my calf.
It has taken several more trips to Exeter where we found the most incredible retro
shop that was packed to the ceiling with so many wonderful things that boot
purchase was immediately struck from the menu. "Oooo, a rack of PVC
goodies, gothic dresses, corsets, burlesque retro rockabilly.....aaarrggh my head's
going to implode" I shouted, actually my head didn't but purse did as the money
simply shot out of it and into the shop's cash register.
Yet another strange thing was the "what am I going to paint the next series of
paintings on" question that kept cropping up, right up to the point of me walking
into a shop that had a HUGE SAIL (they spelt it wrong) on art supplies.
There, at the back of the shop was a 'buy one canvas, get another free' deal. Well
what can I say to that, so then proceeded to pull all of the largest ones out of the rack
to check them for flaws and wonky stretchers. Unfortunately (and there is always
an 'unfortunately' when Amelia Vanstone goes shopping) one of the canvasses
clipped a rather impressive display of cook books that were stacked (a tad excessively
I should add) right next to me and set forth a series of events in the from
of a book based chain reaction. Ainsley Harriot head butted Jamie Oliver and in a
manner that the leaning tower of Pisa will eventually take, went crashing over
the rest of the art supplies. A stand of marker pens was the next victim
of the carnage as they ended up spinning across the shiny floor and under tables,
customer's feet and more book cases. One of the assistants suddenly materialised
and tried to stop the onslaught but accidentally caught another huge
pile of books with his arm, this went crashing over a stand of cards knocking
them all over the floor. Eventually, the chaos stopped and I stood there still
holding the perpetrator of the destruction, namely the inanimate canvas.
With a slightly embarrassed and cheesy grin, I feebly announced "I'll take these
two please" to the assistant who between huffing and puffing as he picked
various items up, was giving me an extremely hard stare.

The two canvasses are now safely back in my studio as I reflect on the very
strange month which passed before me. Next week I am going to make a point
of avoiding over-stuffed bookshops, over stuffed retro shops, over stuffed Costa
coffee shops (that deserves an entry all of it's own) and make it a mission, no,
a crusade, to restore order to my chakras in the form of lower legwear in
leather, where the zip actually goes up and down and I become a happy bunny
for the winter months without resorting to turning art supply vendors into
a place that resembles a Beirut war zone.

Thursday, 8 September 2011

Return of the Giant Hogweed

"Well inspector!" said detective Cholmondley Warner "I am suspecting a blunt force
trauma to the head was probably the main reason for the Colonel's demise." Walking
carefully around the body, he went on "yes, yes I see it now...the victim had
obviously snagged his tie in the keys of the typewriter and evidently bashed his brains
in whilst trying to type the word 'help' with his nose!"

I must say that the previous month could certainly be labelled as odd. Autumn is not
here yet but it really does feel like it. The cool, dark evenings are adorable but
unfortunately cool dark evenings bring the menace that arachnids.
Alan, the largest I have seen in quite a while, seems to put in an appearance at
strangely random times which usually results in him being ejected at some
considerable distance down the lane, yet....he returns.
I suspect that they have homing instincts and are building up an immunity to
conkers which always worked as a repellant but seem to failing in that department
for reasons unknown, Hospheria blames global warming but typically that is her
main reason for everything that becomes defective or broken.
Global warming and deadly plants.
I have also rediscovered my passion for giant hogweed. The very obvious eradication
programme for this deadly and enormous threat to the human race had fallen short
of success along the 'haunted road' and now, several years later's back.
I was photographing the monster plants the other evening much to the surprise
of a passing people carrier full of wide eyed, staring people along the aforementioned
haunted byway, I came lumbering out of the dark with my camera hanging from
my neck only to be greeted by the approaching headlights. The driver made a
huge semi circular deviation around me, I imagine to prevent me from stealing
their souls or something. I smiled at the pasty white faces that were still staring
from the back window as the car sped into the night. I raised my camera and FOOSH,
stole there souls anyway in the form of a photograph.

Cholmondley Warner pushed his trilby to the back of his head with the barrel of his
revolver and frowned slightly. "Terrible business this, inspector" he said "to be a
successful writer in this day and age is not an easy thing, one either has it....or
they don't" he bent over the body and squinted "the Colonel obviously didn't
have the head for it"

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Poised on the Void of a Never Ending Yesterday

"'s August!" well, that's how the conversation went, short but very much
to the point. The up and coming steampunk weddingfest of my two closest friends
required that I somehow manufactured this ten foot high, pumpkin headed scary
scarecrow that was clearly based on one of my illustrations for the Wiccan 
blessing within the district of Hound tor. "Oh goody" I said, closely followed by
"oh bloody hellfire" when I realized the very big ask. All this at a time where my
new studio just doesn't seem to get any closer to completion....and......let's just
say that I really need it, especially for ten foot pumpkin headed monsters.
As well as my failing to materialize studio, I have been working on the up and
coming 'angelvixen' and 'mystik pixie' website, that like my new studio....was well
overdue. "I just don't seem to be getting anywhere" I ranted at mca..."huh!" he
answered, well he was obviously under a considerably larger amount of stress
than me due to the fact that his duo core imac is no longer duo coring as a result
of his hard drive suffering from a slightly fatal dose of death.
I met up with the happy couple at Heltor rock a week ago for a very elaborate 
picnic. They climbed up the hard way while I sat on top looking like a very
windswept Bettie Page being attacked by wasps as I tried to take photos of
the surrounding land. We then ate our combined body weight in crackers and
garlic cheese before departing for Blackingstone rock and cake. I love the 'multi
locations for different courses' picnics. 
One thing that I have discovered recently is something that for me, is such a bad
idea. The horror that is....daytime drinking. I was at friends recently when we got to 
toasting something or other with sparkling wine, I guess it must have been a valid form
of celebration, unfortunately I forget exactly what. The toasting went on....more wine, 
more clinking glasses, I think at one point we were toasting each others cats, even more
 of a puzzle as I do not possess a cat. Finally, it was over and I had launched myself along
the lane in a very vague (but correct) direction of  the Vanstone family home, a walk
that may well have exceeded its regulation fifteen minutes by a good hour. The 
following morning certainly started with a question..."what the....." which was soon 
accompanied by the cry of "ohh my head" and then the statement....."never again!"

Today is the greatest
Day I ’ve ever kown
Can’t live for tomorrow
Tomorrow’s much too long
I burn my eyes out
Before I get out

-smashing pumpkins-

Well...there we go....I came up with some smashing!

Monday, 11 July 2011

Stinging Nettles and Jam

"Go on Amelia, it will be fun"........ok.....let us just concentrate on that word.....FUN.
'Enjoyment, amusement or light hearted pleasure' it says in the dictionary, all of which
appeared perilously absent during my sojourn into the North Devon countryside.
My two best friends in the world had suggested that I joined them on this activity, the
activity that is (cue dramatic music) dum de dum dum........geocaching!
That is the name that is given to this particular pastime by those who enjoy it.....
or mooching about, seemingly lost in the great British countryside in the hunt for
small grubby boxes filled with an endless supply of tat, which would be the 
description applied by those who don't.
We had chosen the hottest day of the season which instantly put me in a grumpy
mood as I had to use factor fifty on my delicate complexion due to the fact that my
  parasol had gone on a journey of it's very own. 
After several hours of extreme 'fun', I became aware that it's practically impossible
to appear natural to the casual passer by when you are loitering in a suspicious 
manner by fences, trees and styles as it's not recommended that we drew any sort
of attention from the general public to the hidden treasure that we sought, well
that is the lawful requirement from the 'high gods of the cache'
This one occasion saw me standing on a small tree covered lane with my hand 
in a bush as I reached for the tupperware bounty that was hidden from view.
There was a house to the left of me that had a lot of children playing in the garden, 
and it wasn't long before they had suddenly noticed me. As I glanced over, there were
about five kids standing on the roadside driveway all pointing and whispering, and
moments later it appeared that the whole family had come to gawp at the goth girl
standing outside their house, elbow deep in a great british hedgerow.
The eldest of the group who I assumed was the dad as he was the tallest and 
beardiest, smiled and nodded his respects as he roughly ushered his still staring
kids back in the direction of the house. I did the same.......MISTAKE, my hair got
tangled in the hawthorn which made me yell out "aaaarrggghhh....hawthorn!"
and all of a sudden, the whole family were back on the road again, staring
and pointing. As before, they were rounded up like sheep and sent in the direction of
the house again. "Get me out" I cried, and it wasn't long before my friends had 
extracted me from the bushes.
After a long Sunday walk with Moomin, we were perilously late with our return
to the cream tea emporium which clearly stated that it closed its doors to the
general public at five o was eight minutes to. After asking nicely, it was
agreed by the cream tea ladies that we indeed had time. This particular place is
in an old church hall and boasts bone china, vases of flowers and starched
linen tablecloths. Tea, bread, butter, cakes and jam were brought to us as we sat
there alone in this huge hall at the only dressed table. Remembering the 
Houndtor tea incident with the purple mug, we agreed that best behavior would 
be observed at all times. I managed to pour both teas, with no drips...happy, then
I managed to cut the cake with no crumbs....very happy, then Moomin put jam
on her bread and butter......happiness over!  There was quite a loud 'donk' that came 
from her direction, I quickly looked up from my tea and noticed the wide eyed 
stare of horror coming from Moomin's face. I followed her gaze of terror back 
down to the table to the enormous spoon full......or rather the 'started off as a spoon
full' mound of blackcurrant jam that had now set up home on the extremely clean and
starched linen tablecloth. We both gazed at each other with open mouths and
I did what any well bred girl would do.....I put the vase of flowers over it.
So then......I think that we will leave the next visitation to this cream tea venue for a 
few weeks so the guardians of the cake and tea will have time to forget us...
although on second thoughts we do tend to get's an appearance 
thing you see......and next weekend, well I have to admit it.....I shall be probably
up to my shoulders in hedgerow again.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Nocturnal Angst of The Dying Swan

The night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness
I learned the language of another world.
Thunk!.....doomf doomf doomf, it went at precisely 5 am this morning, right across
my roof, and then it was gone. 1855, rural Devon....on the night of the 8th and 9th of
February, there was a light snowfall across the shire and the following morning.....
there was panic, as for exactly one hundred miles and almost in a straight line, there
were hoof like prints found in the whiteness. They went along the ground, through
woodlands, across streams, over trees, over haystacks and most importantly.....
over the roofs of many houses. This true story had no explanation however, it was 
reported by several eye witnesses that they had seen a 'devil' like figure, running and
jumping at great speed just before the sun, guess what was on my mind at
exactly 5 am today! Logical Amelia was really put to the test with this one, and
hoping to make myself feel less frightened by my early morning visitation I 
eventually concluded.....roof badgers....they have finally evolved the ability to
climb up ladders or mossy wall growth.
This month has certainly been filled with angst riddled tantrums and proverbial
spanners tossed casually into the well oiled workings of my creativity by lady fate.
I am currently typing this hunched over my macbook instead of lounging with the
wireless keyboard on my lap and staring at a large screen. The reason.....well the
hard drive on my iMac is going through it's 'dying swan' phase as when it all gets
too much, he places the back of his cyber hand against his furrowed cyber brow and
sighs "oh it's all getting too much, I really don't know if I can go on any longer"
and then promptly feigns a camp Shakespearian faint into sleep mode. I am now
getting sick and tired of our clandestine and regular meetings in the gardens of
disc utility. I really don't fancy another trip to the genius bar to be told by an Apple
genius the bleeding obvious as that really doesn't require a genius. "You should
work here" I was told last time by someone I really didn't want to classify as a genius
as it seemed that they were lacking. "Nope" I replied " issues you see with the
blue tee shirt with the white Apple logo, I may consider it if Mr. Jobs provided
me with a black tee emblazoned with a golden hybrid apple/skull logo that was
being held by a black widow spider set in front sacrificial virgins tied to flaming 
pc towers.........can I have one please please please?"
Another mild irritation is the seemingly endless supply of spindly spiders. It's
almost as if a large truck had pulled up outside and a lorry driver type with a 
clipboard announced "two ton of assorted arachnids love, where do you want the
spindly spiders?" Well at the moment I am leaving them be as the do tend to
eat the woodworms that were delivered  another truck load on a previous occasion.
I just don't like doing that wavy hand thing that people do when they walk into
webs as from outside it must look like I'm doing some really naff dance routine
to the casual passer by. I really need a good night's sleep.....thats at least 
until 5 am tomorrow when the devil makes his return journey.

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Return of the Eco Warrior

300 million years ago, the heaving, volcanic depths of planet earth erupted it's
igneous granite batholith upwards and outwards which in turn formed the 250 sq
miles of Dartmoor rock that we know and love so much today. In it's most exposed
places, the granite intrusion endured millions of years of erosion and in turn,
created the magical and mystical tor formations that have been steeped in folklore
and legend throughout the centuries. The main composition of granite is
large and small deposits feldspar which is mixed with equally large amounts but
smaller in size varieties of quartz and mica the result of
all of this....I DON'T SLEEP.
Dartmoor is basically one GIANT crystal which channels all of the earth energy
resulting in something called Geopathetic Stress. This has many side effects, the
most appropriate being the lack of sleep variety that has been plaguing me for ages.
Hospheria Belladonna Callisto barked the words "crystal therapy" to me, so it was
off to the shops to buy some amethyst to place around the bed, and just for once, I
was an incredibly good girl as I didn't return with shoes. However I also didn't
return with the amethyst that I originally went for as the crystal shop was all
out. I am presuming there are many others with the earth energies running amok
with their sleeping patterns too.
Well I have been very busy creating together with the angelvixen collective recently,
in fact all work and no play has turned Amelia into a very dull girl. The monthly
high was definitely the oil paint bargain of the year which resulted in me filling
the primary colour void for only twenty pounds. The monthly low was being
mistaken for somebody else that clearly wasn't me....wrong bloody artist for a
bloody start....bloody about giving somebody a bloody complex. I think the
goth look has a lot to do with that sometimes, hence..BLACK AND PURPLE DREADS
again at the moment...oo look at me, all gothic eco warrior. Moomin said I need
to get back into dresses and skirts again so that is the plan although this
actually has nothing to do with anything.....shut up Amelia.
Lady Gaga has been cropping up a lot too as 1 I really love her to bits and 2 she is in
the UK at the moment doing some shows. Rumor has it that a certain female
artist based...oo let's say, on Dartmoor, is painting her image let's also say
for a certain Pre Raphaelite Sisterhood school of incredible women of outrageous
fortune....crumbs, I just went a bit Shakespearean then.
My energy levels are soaring, creativity flowing.....enthusiasm escalating, well that
would be the Geopathics of the land's still keeping me awake....

Tuesday, 26 April 2011

Mistress Crimson Ophelia

Well at last, the first photo-rendition for the Pre Raphaelite inspired series of paintings
is ready for enlarging on the A2 printer. For the fans of John Everett Millais, the
first and most obvious comparison is that I'm not wet, in fact I am nowhere near
the Denmark based stream that Ophelia drowned in after falling from the overhanging tree
just as in the Shakespearian play. Another very obvious and notable point is that
gone is the pose of the late victorian martyrs with the upturned face and
open arms which has been replaced with something of a more contemporary stance.
It was mentioned that my Ophelia would not have drowned in the famous stream
but more likely succumbed to her icy death in the bottom of a pint glass full
of Magner's.......oh your an art philistine mca.

Friday, 22 April 2011

The Intoxication of Burlesque Desire

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Thank you Byron..nicely written sir....unfortunately, not wholly appropriate for the glorious
weather that is making it's unusually early appearance this year. This means one thing for
me...suncream and a big parasol to reflect the damaging and spiteful rays from ravaging my alabaster complexion. Recently I have taken to wearing extremely burlesque inspired
clothing, initially for a photoshoot with Mca, but now it seems that impossibly proportioned
heels and backseamed stockings are creeping into my daily repertoire with ease. The whole gothic-burlesque thing may be my next obsession, like Bettie Page and Blythe
dolls. Before I got too sidetracked with incredible clothing, the beginning of last month saw
an enormous spanner inserted sideways into the delicate workings of the angelvixen
machine of creativity. Mca was trying to finish off some artwork for me, when completely unannounced, his large iMac decided to die a bit. After a period of total panic, he
decided to pay a visit to the Apple refurb store to replace the defective workstation......
Hmm grumpy bit, he was upgraded from the i5 intel to the 27 inch i7 intel without incurring
any extra cost. Happy and extremely envious all at the same time...
oh I want a quad core now!
The artwork that he was doing for me is going to be the working images for my up and
coming pre-raphaelite, gothic inspired tales of folklore and legendary ultravixens which
seems to be well overdue at the moment. Too many distractions for this girl....which brings
me back to the weather. We have been drinking lots of gin at the moment rather like
Victorian alcoholic down and outs, and contrary to popular really isn't going out
of fashion. Amongst the drinking, open air dining and random chit chat about life in general,
there has been a lot of hula hooping going on as well. Me...well I really cant do it, my coordination seems to be awful, Moomin however is getting really good though. She can do tricks and all sorts of clever things, only once did she do some sort of flashy move up above
her head to a slight fluff on the return which resulted her hoop flying through the air and
hitting me in the face and knocking me onto my back. So as I said,
gaze becomes diverted quite easily from my work to the great outdoors all too frequently
these days (shakes fist in a threatening manner at the orange ball of fire in the sky)
but I guess it's better than shaking my fist at copious amounts of wet stuff.
Another by product of the summer is the wearing of flip flops....I have never ventured down
that road due to my old fashioned attitude to covering everything up...."just go on line and
have a look" Moomin commanded, and so I did. Ultimately I saw exactly what I wanted and ordered them immediately. "Yay..what did you order?" Moomin enquired with excitement
in her voice.....quietly I answered " hole Doctor Martins in black
with purple laces"

Saturday, 19 March 2011

Organically Influenced Lunar Intervention

We'll crucify the insincere tonight
We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight
We'll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight

Ooo I just went all Smashing Pumpkins...well as I am on the subject, tonight... it just so
happens that there is going to be a 'supermoon'. The moon will be thirty thousand
miles closer to us and it last did that eighteen years ago. Hmm it sounds like I have
gone all Patrick Moore but in, I saw it on the news.
Of course it is compulsory to string together some form of celebratory soiree involving
friends, nibbles, music and........oh go on then, alcoholic beverages... if we must!
The pixies and faeries are going to celebrating tonight!

Saturday, 5 March 2011

Elementary Photophobic Premonition

Having never really recovered from that incident with Mca and the irretrievable Blythe doll, I
recently found myself shopping the other day with his good lady of all things holistic- Nic, for the usual girlie nonsense and shoe based products in their home town of the northern shire.
I was indeed on a mission for a pair of super swish cat eye sunglasses but wasn't having an
awful lot of luck as nowhere had them.
As we approached a charity shop my heart suddenly lurched and I ran towards the window
and to what I thought to be a much sought after 70's doll. My lurching heart sank as it
turned out to be a a really tacky Bratz variety sitting there looking like a bit of a loose maiden.
But eyes drifted to the left and "OMG.......LOOK....I DON'T BELIEVE IT" I yelled
as I spotted the large headed, googly eyed beauty sitting there by a 'Thomas the tank
engine' staring back at me from behind the glass.
I launched myself through the door nearly flattening a lady who was struggling with a
heavy bag of groceries and nearly knocked over a man with a walking stick too. I grabbed
the doll from the window and stood there in totally stunned disbelief as Nic came
up beside me. "Well, is it?" she asked as I stood there still staring at one of the most
elusive prizes that I could ever imagine finding. "Yes...Takara version, 2002....she's mine!"
Now this is the really spooky bit!
Nic suddenly pointed it out, I had missed the obvious thing......the oh so obvious thing.
"Who does she look like, I mean look...long raven black hair, blunt cut fringe, black
fitted long sleeved top and a pair of gold pvc trousers" Nic whispered....."IT'S ME!"
I replied, the similarity was uncanny, I have to say that if I had to choose one Blythe doll
from a shop FULL of Blythe dolls, then this would be the one...the EXACT one.
Oo there are indeed very mystic and great powers at work here....and incidentally,
I never got the cat eye sunglasses.

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Subterranean Terrors

Next door lady just so happened to inform me the other morning as to the plight of her
household plumbing and as it was a bit too early for me to take in the intricacies and
traumatically over descriptive reason why she needed 'men in'......I promptly forgot.
Fine....the technicality of our complicated drain workings due to the age of our
properties meant that all blockages had to be dealt with almost inside my house due to
the incredibly bad positioning of the inspection hatch just on the inside of my rear door.
The problem....well lets just say that my house becomes uninhabitable due to the
comparative smell as to that of the pig farm just down the road at mucking out time.
Well now..the weather is officially starting to annoy me as it has started to play havoc
with my shoes and I am sick and tired of deviating around woodlands and muddy
areas in case my Demonias get grubby. All this at the time that I need to be outside
getting more photos and working images for the next series of paintings that I
am starting. Pre-raphaelite gothic goddesses in moody landscapes wearing floaty dresses
with and armour and faeries and stuff...oh my, that's a mouthful.
Yikes I've gone of the path again. So, having forgotten about the drain issue that had
been related to me in the morning, it was eventually evening and Moomin and I were in
slumber mode with typical girlie slumber clothing, nibbles and an endless supply
of chick flicks on the go. All of a sudden there was a yellow flashing light coming up
the lane which parked right outside my house. As the light illuminated the front room
Moomin and I looked at each other quizzically. "Alright love...where is the blockage?" said
a man's voice to next door lady. "OH.....I FORGOT......DRAIN MEN!" I whispered.
Through the door I could make out two figures in orange who started to pull open
drain covers. I very quickly explained to Moomin (in hushed tones) as to why we
can't let them in (pig farm) and we would have to be very quiet. "Pretend we aren't in"
whispered Moomin "that's it.....but, er the lights are on"
The men had now gone around the back and there were noises of tools and hoses
moving under the house with gushing water jets. "Er....hide!" I said and with that we
both dived on the floor and crawled under the coffee table as we pretended that we
were out or something. One of the men was now back at the front and was making
disapproving sounds as to the fact that the drain was still blocked. Then there was a
gushing sound and I was convinced that the hatch near the kitchen was going to be blown
upwards showering my house in next door lady's ........ooh I don't want to even think
about it. By now Moomin was having a huge fit of the giggles which started me off.
"Two grown up girls hiding under the table from men with boiler suits and a hosepipe
and a big van with yellow flashing lights, heheheheheh" it was mentioned.
All of a sudden there were two figures outside, this time though they were making
satisfied 'man sounds'...."ah there we go it's all gone now" one said. "Yes...
time for the pub then" said the other and with that they were gone.
Moomin and I lay there for a bit longer and when I had plucked up enough courage
I jumped up and peered out of the window. "Oh good....they've gone, lets get back
to chick flicks and dips"
I recently saw next door lady and there was no mention of the drain, however I did
give her some money off vouches for 'all bran' and some 'fruit and fibre' cereal...
well she may take the hint!

Thursday, 10 February 2011

Blythe Faerie Trauma

Recently I have been lurking around woodlands in a moody victorian style with the hope
of coming across tree faeries again. Mca happened to pass comment about something to
do with madness and boxes of frogs or something but I chose to ignore it.
However, he did notice that Luna my faerie doll bore a striking resemblance to another
doll that he was holding in his very hands not three months ago.
"Exactly the same googly eyes and enormous head" he said as he examined Luna in
a very methodical manner. As Luna was of the Blythe tribe I enquired if he was at a toy
fair or antique market. " shop" he said..."WHAT!" I said.
He went on "yes a basket that announced, small toys 50p and large toys £1.50...I assumed
that the doll was in the large toy category"......."WHAT!" I repeated, now clearly with
visible signs of what best can be described as tears of disbelief welling up behind my
extremely black (but luckily waterproof) lashes.
"Noooo, this can't be" I said as I grabbed hold of mca and dragged him into my studio.
I fired up my sleeping imac and googled Blythe dolls and then pointed at the screen.
"You see the, look" I yowled as I carried on frantically tapping
at the the shiny images. "Oh.....OH!" mca replied "clearly the £1.50 may well have been
regarded as somewhat of a bargain" he went on. "Yes" I said in a hushed voice "I think
I need a bit of a lie down"
"Drama queen" he shouted after me as I floated off in the direction of my room.......
I won't tell you what I shouted back!

Sunday, 16 January 2011


I am looking out of my window....the grey clouds are scooting across the horizon
towards Widecombe in the Moor and a group of outdoor types are struggling with
a large map that clearly wants to be a kite and not a ramblers picnic blanket as the
high priestess of Ordnance Survey had surely intended.
The second coffee of the day just hasn't done it's job as I was woken up at bonkers
o clock by the even more bonkers birds that seem to think that it's time to go and
buy Easter eggs. I'm contemplating the third as I can't stop rubbing my eyes and yawning
and this really is having a damaging effect on my carefully applied eyes and lips.
Last night I dreamt that I was a darkly gothic, blood sucking, angel type faerie
again who was skulking around the granite outcrops of Honeybag tor looking
for lost and weary travelers to feast upon (yes...again, this seems to be a regular one)
The outdoor types have now tamed their unruly map and banished it to top of a
truly enormous rucksack and are busily 'clickety clicking' their way up the lane
with their walking poles as they head out towards the moor.....hmmm, I wonder if
they are going near Honeybag tor? Vampyre Amelia would relish in that. A quick
look at the outdoor types and it was fairly obvious who would be the first to
perish. A very short lady was coming up the rear of the group and was clearly
having issues in the trouser department (I think she needs a belt.) She would drop
back from the group to adjust her polyester source of annoyance and WHAM.....
"where's Mabel?" would come the question. On realising that very short lady
was missing it would be agreed that they would have to split up to search for
her.....this was exactly what Vampyre Amelia would want as she carefully picked
them off one by one as they mooched around the monoliths. When it came to the
leader and last of the ramblers (who I shall call Neville) to succumb to the bite
of the undead, he would dig deep into his goretex and pull out a shiny cross
that he had hanging around his neck (19.99 from Argos) and wave it in Amelia's
direction, hoping to repel the nasty girl. "Ha...doesn't work on me foolish mortal,
try again" she would snarl and Neville would frantically search his pockets for
a weapon. A compass, mobile phone, cuddly bear keyring....wait, what's this...
Kendal mint cake!
"Is that Kendal mint cake?" Vampyre Amelia would ask. ""yes" Neville would
answer as he waved it in the air as a threat to the mistress of darkness.
"Hmmm............I'm off""
I never liked Kendal mint cake, I am sure that it's the same stuff that you hang in
the toilet for that pine fresh minty smell, in fact I bet that it's made in the same know that I said that the coffee wasn't working....well I think
that it is now as I am doing what the happy, clicky outdoor types are doing...