My OperaOnce Upon A Time ...........
Friday, September 14, 2007 1:28:32 PM
Right! Equipment check! Dust mask - check! Eye shield - check! Powerful torch - check! Water - check! Balaclava - check! Shotgun - Err no shells - damn! No flesh exposed - check! I'm ready as I'm ever going to be. Onward! Into the depths of the great unknown. Yes dear reader it's another attempt to uncover the secrets of - the Loft.
You know how it is - everything not in daily use gets stuffed into the roof space. Under plastic covers lie boxes, barrels, strange cardboard tubes and vague indecipherable shapes that lurk menacingly in the shadows. There's something primeval about it all - it breathes! No matter how much you remove the recovery is positively organic. Clearly a pogram is called for. I need to enlist ex-KGB operatives! Or maybe the X-File agents? No - well maybe it's a bit too much for them?
As I sit downstairs with a box in front of me a strange unease creeps across my psyche. There's a suspiscion that the terrible denizens of that dark space are plotting their dreadful revenge. I doubt I will be able to sleep well tonight.
In spite of my attempts to separate contents according to type the box in question is a mess. The usual rubbish spills out. "Why did I keep this", I think. If only we knew the answer to such a conundrum.
Amongst this dross was a slim red, well-thumbed, exercise book dating back to my secondary school days. The writing betrayed the italic style I was taught then but has not survived the passage of time. English exercises - synonyms, antonyms, parts of speech, etc, etc. Ah but what is this - examples of those essays we all had to write in class. Makes you wonder how our best selling authors managed when they were only given the title at the start of the lesson and then had the paper snatched away after 85 minutes? Another "Silence of the Lambs" or "About a Dog" - I think not.
It occurred to me that I should re-write these 'classic' tales. Trouble is they are rubbish. I was good at generating ideas but got lost in the actual writing. I drifted off the subject. As a consequence the stories never had a proper ending. So should I consign the book to the bin? What do you think? I'm writing a blog - put them on the net. Am I that cruel? Breathe a sigh of relief dear reader. However........
My first thoughts were how to house a hundred chimps or so....and where do I get all those old-fashioned typewriters? Then another thought struck (two in one day - would Guiness be interested?). I'm sure it's been done before but why not post the start of a tale or two and let other bloggers add on as they see fit. Well here's a first go.
"Celia wrapped her tail around her. Her stomach was full. Wasn't harvest festival wonderful? All those kind humans providing a wide variety of delicious food just where she, and her growing family, could munch away at it. Being a church mouse was usually a by-word for poverty but not at this time of year. Life was worth living.
Of course there were times when nature played a nasty hand. The winters could be bitter. Old churches like these were very draughty and the heating almost non-existant. Every Sunday the congregation shivered and the vicar tried to stop his teeth chattering. Still you knew spring would be coming soon - and at times you longed for such relief.
Unfortunately the seasons were not the only enemy. One that always had to be kept in mind - even at this time of plenty - was Horace. The gravedigger's cat was a constant menace. She had lost six children to that monster. Of course she warned them but they were so cock-sure. Children never listen. Still the survivors slept in the home she provided."
If you can continue this tale feel free to post something to me. Meanwhile I will once again don my fighting gear and bravely set forth on another expedition. If I'm not back on line soon send for Stanley.
You know how it is - everything not in daily use gets stuffed into the roof space. Under plastic covers lie boxes, barrels, strange cardboard tubes and vague indecipherable shapes that lurk menacingly in the shadows. There's something primeval about it all - it breathes! No matter how much you remove the recovery is positively organic. Clearly a pogram is called for. I need to enlist ex-KGB operatives! Or maybe the X-File agents? No - well maybe it's a bit too much for them?
As I sit downstairs with a box in front of me a strange unease creeps across my psyche. There's a suspiscion that the terrible denizens of that dark space are plotting their dreadful revenge. I doubt I will be able to sleep well tonight.
In spite of my attempts to separate contents according to type the box in question is a mess. The usual rubbish spills out. "Why did I keep this", I think. If only we knew the answer to such a conundrum.
Amongst this dross was a slim red, well-thumbed, exercise book dating back to my secondary school days. The writing betrayed the italic style I was taught then but has not survived the passage of time. English exercises - synonyms, antonyms, parts of speech, etc, etc. Ah but what is this - examples of those essays we all had to write in class. Makes you wonder how our best selling authors managed when they were only given the title at the start of the lesson and then had the paper snatched away after 85 minutes? Another "Silence of the Lambs" or "About a Dog" - I think not.
It occurred to me that I should re-write these 'classic' tales. Trouble is they are rubbish. I was good at generating ideas but got lost in the actual writing. I drifted off the subject. As a consequence the stories never had a proper ending. So should I consign the book to the bin? What do you think? I'm writing a blog - put them on the net. Am I that cruel? Breathe a sigh of relief dear reader. However........
My first thoughts were how to house a hundred chimps or so....and where do I get all those old-fashioned typewriters? Then another thought struck (two in one day - would Guiness be interested?). I'm sure it's been done before but why not post the start of a tale or two and let other bloggers add on as they see fit. Well here's a first go.
"Celia wrapped her tail around her. Her stomach was full. Wasn't harvest festival wonderful? All those kind humans providing a wide variety of delicious food just where she, and her growing family, could munch away at it. Being a church mouse was usually a by-word for poverty but not at this time of year. Life was worth living.
Of course there were times when nature played a nasty hand. The winters could be bitter. Old churches like these were very draughty and the heating almost non-existant. Every Sunday the congregation shivered and the vicar tried to stop his teeth chattering. Still you knew spring would be coming soon - and at times you longed for such relief.
Unfortunately the seasons were not the only enemy. One that always had to be kept in mind - even at this time of plenty - was Horace. The gravedigger's cat was a constant menace. She had lost six children to that monster. Of course she warned them but they were so cock-sure. Children never listen. Still the survivors slept in the home she provided."
If you can continue this tale feel free to post something to me. Meanwhile I will once again don my fighting gear and bravely set forth on another expedition. If I'm not back on line soon send for Stanley.
