Quite a long time ago, people were much, much smaller than they are now. This is where our fairy legends come from, only so much time has passed that we’ve forgotten that the little people were actually us. Bigstickasaurus hasn’t forgotten though, he’s still full of the stories from when we were small. He even told me one. In those days, we, the little people, would suspend ourselves from his spikes like ornaments on Christmas trees. Our ancestors would sit there, swinging backwards and forwards, shouting out ideas for a full moon show, practicing under cover of the new. The full moon shows were always spectacular and involved incredible circus feats. After they were finished, the little people would jump off their swings all at the same time, and perform synchronised somersaults as they landed. Then, after a prolonged series of curtsies and bows to a very loud round of applause,
I have to say that I was excited to find this sign! It’s been a long time since I encountered the Numberplate of Destiny, so to find the Sign of Jumbling Fortune was, well, a sign! A sign the universe had another message for me, a sign that my quest was not in vain, a sign that I had eyes for seeing and ears for hearing, a sign that the universe was rewarding my careful, quiet attention with a message. Before I reveal the potent and timely message the Sign of Jumbling Fortune had for me, let me first explain the way it works. As with a great many other naturally magical artefacts, it works best if you are carrying a stick. Thankfully I had picked up three yew sticks on that walk, and was thus able to divine a rather complicated message. However, the Jumbling Sign recognises that three sticks
I’ve done a clever thing and started a YouTube channel! I am narrating my stories with some gentle music underneath and animating some of the text. It was ChatGPT‘s idea. 🙂 I’ve been posting one a week on a Wednesday for a few weeks now. However, to be honest, it takes an awfully long time to make the videos, so I think I am going to switch to making one every two weeks. I’ve not had enough time to write these last few weeks as I’ve spent so much time making a bunch of the videos. Anyway, I hope you will give them a listen and consider “liking and subscribing” and sharing the videos with people who like to listen rather than read. I’ve also started a Buy me a coffee page. ChatGPT‘s idea as well. It said I am “fragmented, under-leveraged, and hiding in [my] comfort zone”, and that my
These guys are waiting for a natural beauty. They are from a special tribe of caterpillars which specialises in being organic jewellery for local beauties who have a special occasion they need to look pretty for. They descended like this in my path as they could tell from a distance that I don’t wear make up, however, when I got close they said I was too much of a slovenly filthy bucket in my grease stained jogging bottoms to waste their time with me. (I’ve since bought an apron in anticipation of encountering them again.) As such, these caterpillars are probably still just hanging about, waiting for a local lovely. So if you are one, I commend thee to high tail it down to the North Downs Way, just outside of Old Wives Lees. Once the caterpillars spy you, they will turn from being a path pendant into some kind of
On this sofa bed, a Monst was made. Not via procreation, you understand, but made nonetheless. His principal constituents are: assorted Meccano and Lego pieces, three indeterminable bones, two pieces of Scalextric track, several pieces of the board game Operation, one Rice Crispy treat, and a very powerful spell. The Monst’s name is Barry and, when he’s not out roaming Lypeat and Clowes wood, he lives under this same bed. Barry the Monst was made by a six year old boy called Nigel, but neither Barry nor Nigel know that. By the time Nigel’s prodigious spell had finished working, Nigel had long since gone home to bed. The over-early moral of this story then, is to take care with the wishes that you make. Coming into the world alone like that, means that poor old Barry has a gaping void where his maker should be. So, he wanders the local connected