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!

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. "Er...charity 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 prices.....eh...look, 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!

Awakening

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

factory..........um.....you 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...

RAMBLING!

If the shoe fits.........or not

Oh.......aaargh!........there we go, frustration coming out on this fine gloomy November

morning. Well it was the unanimous decision to go shopping for 'go with anything

leather boots' last weekend in our local shopping metropolis of everything footwear

related. I was very good and dressed down for the day with black bondage trousers,

full length vampire coat and killer (or just having been killed as Moomin put it)

makeup with very long pvc gloves to top it off. Right...here is my rant of the day,

why is it that most 'go with anything leather boots' seem to be built for the

averagely proportioned girl with legs that would make a chicken very proud.

Oh you know the score...."zip going up.....zip going....oh, it's not going any further."

Maybe it's the fact that we come from generations of quality Dartmoor stock

(walking up hills....and....walking down hills) but I never considered my legs to be

anything other than normal and not even edging into the 'ladies with sturdy pins

department' so why do none of these boots seem to fit?

Having been defeated by the elusive 'go with everything leather boot pixies' I decided

it was time to indulge in one of my 'five a day' ...."I need apple products"

I giggled as we entered one of my biggest fetishistic emporiums, namely the

apple store for a session in gazing wistfully at future soon to be purchased shiny

toys. I decided that it would be a good idea to mark each product of desire with

a bright red lipsticky kiss of passion but the sales girl had other ideas when I

approached a 27 inch imac with the kind of look a fox gives a chicken shortly

before dismantling it for teatime, "hi guys, you having a good day".......I gave her

the broody undead stare as I REALLY dislike being referred to as 'GUYS!'

"well if you must know.....no, we have had problems finding....OH WHERE DID YOU

GET THOSE BOOTS?" I suddenly deviated on noticing the sales girl's

footwear.....conversation turned to more important issues which provided Moomin

and I with a website for 'go with anything, yes even for you weirdy girl...leather boots'

putting the very near purchase of the 27 inch imac on hold...well for now.

Ipad covers though....well thats a completely new rant...don't get me started!

Halloween

It was a dark and moody Dartmoor last Sunday, the moor was shrouded in mist and

drizzle and only the bravest warrior would venture 'up top' where they would be under the

watchful eyes of the spirits and demons of all Hallow's eve that were lurking on the

granite tors and windswept open spaces....waiting, just waiting to catch the weary

and unsuspecting traveller off guard where they would be torn from the comfort and

safety of our world and into eternal damnation of burning torment where their memory

would be but a shadow on the wind that cries "remember me...remember me, for now my

soul is one with the land and my memory is but the passing clouds, my body is the

sodden earth and my breath still whispers.....remember me, for now I am gone"

Waxing Lyrical

Right!...to clear things up...I am not a hairy girl thank you!

my good friend, quad-biking super beautician and other half to my very best friend Mca,

has now moved into the realm of all things waxy and 'hair be banished for eternity"

it seems that she needs and indeed insists on ripping hairs out of anything with a

pulse as she practices the art of hair removal, an art I believe that became very

popular during the period known as the Spanish Inquisition-

"come on up and I'll do your legs" she says "you will feel sooo much better when you

get your legs out"eh?.....get your legs out...do you think that I keep them in a box?

as it turns out, my legs were indeed 'out' the other day when I decided to take

some impossibly proportioned heels for a test drive around the grave yard with

Byron.....I wasn't aware of any hair related problems....the usual wide eyed

'OMG a vampire lurking between the memorials' looks came from random

members of the public, but at no time did any of them say "ooo, scary lady....one's

legs need some VEET application....bad hairs!"

ahh...Sunday saw Nic,Mca and I going for a fairly hefty walk from Lustleigh up to

Hunters Tor via the river...a spooky start in the mist saw Nic photographing pretty

much every mushroom in sight, while Mca stood at the base of the 'split pinnacle'

rock and gave some serious thought to climbing up it by himself (there's a special

climbing phrase for that activity....I think it was 'tempting death' or something like that)

we eventually got to the river where I unceremoniously fell in the mud, moving

on we soon arrived at the top where we had tuna bagels "er...Amelia, camera bag,

camera bag" came the observation from Nic....."aarggh, thats going to smell" I

replied as I tried to remove the fishy lumps that had escaped from my lunch time

treat and ended up all over my gucci Lowe Pro bag and shiny stuff...I tried to

take a landscape 'joiner' of the tor silhouetted against the blue sky and sun but due

to the very bad positioning of one 'beardy weirdy' right in mid shot (he had no top

on....it was soooo wrong, he may have thought that I was trying to take a sneaky

peak at his 'man jugs').................................I aborted that idea

as I sat on the couch in the beauty spa after having a totally orgasmic facial, the

voices from behind the curtain next to me went like this...."no, waxing the under

arms doesn't hurt as much as the legs" the client/victim was still complaining about

her very sore legs "ok...there may be a tiny bit of blood...ready....steady

fffffffffrrrrriiiiiiiiippppppp! "YAAAAARRGH F...K YOU....THAT BLOODY KILLS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH".......................Nic........the answer's NO!