Happy Xmas and Very Merry New Year

I like using Xmas rather than 'Happy Holidays' or even the old standby 'Compliments of the Season' because I was brought up to look upon it as Christmas and don't really give a hoot what other people regard it as, and 'Xmas' means exactly that, but has the advantage of a greater vintage.  It goes back about 1000 years.

Here we have my current feline muse posing with a poinsettia as a suitable subject for the season.  He has evidenced a great fondness for turkey over this period, and may demand it in his diet for the foreseeable future.

December 2015 Colonialist (Blogger)

'Editification' and Delight - The Goddess of the Devil

Most writers tend to want their editors to remain, if not invisible, at least fairly well-hidden.  Some, but not all, do give an acknowledgement in the front matter.  Some don’t.  They want it to be assumed that no hand has muddied the pristine waters of their genius. 

If authors do mention that their book is in the course of being edited, they hardly ever say by whom, so unless they do the editor is also obliged to keep mum on the subject.Also, the editor has to be aware of the confidentiality of the relationship.  If it is known what books are being worked on, any general remarks on writing faults may be assumed as having arisen from the current project.

It is refreshing, therefore, that I have received full permission from the multi-talented Mart Sander (link is to the Wiki page on him)  to blog my appraisal of his latest novel, now undergoing an edit of the final section.  He may, of course, have been influenced by the fact that it isn’t exactly uncomplimentary!  :)

The Goddess of the Devil

by

Mart Sander

Editor’s Appraisal 

Few novels I have edited - or, indeed, read - have gripped my attention and imagination to the extent this one has succeeded in doing.  The main protagonist, Maria Orsic (Orschitsch), actually existed and was an exceptionally beautiful woman, with blonde hair to her ankles, whose mediumistic talents were acknowledged even by sceptics.  Her association with the famous and the infamous of the Nazi era, and the influence of her ‘Vril’ group of clairvoyants and mediums upon them, had an undoubted effect on the events of that time. 

How much so, is one of many fields explored in the novel. From her first meeting with two anonymous men, the book leaves no doubt regarding the reality of her abilities in esoteric matters.  The limitations in her talents, though, provide a source of suspense and frustration for the reader throughout.

The identities of her callers are revealed towards the end of the first chapter in a way which gives an early indication of the author’s skill in dropping bombshells in a casual way.  That particular one is effective even if expected, but most of the other (many) surprises arrive as a total shock.  Every time the reader is lulled into a sense of having a good idea where events are being taken, further ingenious twists come in.

Particularly skilful blending of recorded history, vouched-for and documented facts, well-founded speculation, and imaginative invention, provides another thing which sets this novel apart.  Actual characters and events were so amazing that it becomes almost impossible to know where fiction starts coming in.  One is easily able to verify, for example, that Hitler claimed to have been at the mercy of a British soldier, Henry Tand(e)y, VC, who could have shot him but waved him on.  Though disputed, this seems to be true.  Then, ‘Indiana Jones’ prototype, Chapman Andrews, also existed and was as flamboyant as depicted.  As yet another instance we have the Roerich expedition which ‘vanished’ for a year – again, this is recorded.

In essence, the novel follows Maria through her earlier days in Vienna to all the events and experiences beginning with her fateful interview in Munich and the ‘messages’ she received in Bechtesgarten in 1919, and her participation in a 1927 Tibetan expedition, through to the events which preceded, and unfolded during, the Second World War.  Adventure, romance and mystery are interwoven with the progression of all the momentous happenings of that incredible time in history, leaving the reader breathlessly eager to reach the outcome.

This outcome is not rushed.  It would have been a mistake, in my opinion, to do so.  The impact lies in all that has gone before; to try and condense or prune would not be wise even though the length of the novel is well over that which publishers traditionally look for from a writer not yet established.  One could, perhaps, try to dispense with sections which show the progression of a normal, rational nation into a unity which became associated with pure evil.  However, the insights into how the fascination with fascism, and reverence for Hitler, crept insidiously into the psyche of the ordinary German man and woman is part of what lifts this novel far above the normal run.

It is my belief that this book has definite potential to become a best-seller.  The most difficult part will be how to categorise it.  Historical ‘faction’?   Supernatural?  Adventure?  Romance?  Science fiction?  Fantasy?  It has all these elements in it, and more.  As is appropriate for a writer who is also a musician, Mart Sander has orchestrated them all perfectly into a symphony of epic proportions.  

Leslie Hyla Winton Noble 
September, 2014.

Ginger William of Orange: Introduction

Dedicated to CALVIN (Co-owner of Kingfisher2) with deep admiration.

Ginger William of Orange, aka Ginger, or Fizzy Willy, or Fizzy

This will serve as introductionTo forthcoming grand production
Which some may indeed have sensed
Has in ‘Repost’ now commenced

Comes a tale of how a cat
Joined an expedition that
Once in lifetime chanced to be;
Days when one could wander free
Through the wonders of this land ;
Few, alas, now understand
Times like that, which were so dear,
When one travelled without fear
Stopping when the impulse took,
Never any fearful look
At what dangers there might be
From some crazed humanity.

Out our family of four
Set, to be joined by one more
In an unexpected way
On a memorable day.

South West Africa the scene
Where no cat had ever been ;
First, Fish River Canyon’s slopes
Sharing in our New Year hopes

Through the Namib; quite a gamble;
Luderitz, and coastal ramble;
On to wonders he has been
Which no longer may be seen.

Even through to Windhoek, where
We were given quite a scare,
Till, to Orange River banks,
We returned him, with deep thanks;

Ginger Will of Orange, he –
Water’s where he’d want to be.

© 2007 Colonialist (24.com Blogs)

 © 2013 Colonialist (Blogger) 

Trifextra: Week Seventy-Three (third time's the charm)

Twice, as she glanced across to his table, he smiled. She looked away indifferently.
Another glance: another smile.
This one became a grimace; he knocked scalding coffee over himself.
That broke the ice.

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: FLEETING - Teeth and Entertainment.

     

R has unexpectedly, and far too early, shed her first tooth; a front bottom one, at age five.  That first set is a fleeting thing, but should at least last until about age seven.

     Anyway, she came to show me a special box she has put it in, saying, ‘The tooth fairy will come and see, “My first tooth”, on the box, and then she’ll open it and she’ll take it and put it in her tooth castle and then she’ll come back and give me five thousand Rand, and then I’ll use that to win the Lotto, and then we can go to Disneyland.  And I’ll buy a castle.’  I quickly jotted this down verbatim.  You will note that she doesn’t exactly think small. (She seemed to say it all in one breath, too!) 

     Another variation on this theme, with pictures not my own:

 

If in Circus

Fleas are workers,

Carts they tow are, in the main, meant

As a flea-t’ing entertainment.

 

     And a haiku for the Foam (for Michael) theme of "What do you see when you close your eyes at night?"

My main current writing project.

Review of writing:

Thoughts run deep, and block out sleep -

Far too exciting!

© Colonialist June 2013 (Blogger)

The SidevieW ‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ theme brings to mind not only the entrance to Wonderland, but reminds one of the wardrobe of the Narnia books, the train platform for Hogwarts, and many more.  I thought I’d take the opportunity to show the entrances to a couple of my own fantasy worlds.  All my Magic Circle ones feature bubble-like walls, and The Mouse features in two of the extracts, because they relate to different parts of the same Circle:

 BAA BAA BLACK BELT:

He drew closer, and still closer, and everything around him seemed to be shimmering … ... and suddenly, with a ‘popping’ feeling, as if he were a cork that had just been pulled out of a bottle, he found himself sitting on a log, surrounded by the enormous trees. A high-pitched ‘Peeep!’ sounded, and then a squeaky voice said, ‘Welcome to Fabulous Forest. You have logged in to The Net at fifteen hundred hours, five minutes, and four seconds.  Peeep!’

The squeaky speaker was a mouse, standing on a large lily pad floating in the air a bit to his right, at about the same level as the top of the log. A plank with keys of every size and shape hanging on pegs was also in midair, slightly to the left of him, and what seemed to be a large square fishnet hung from nothing some distance in front. As Baa looked at it, the net started to glow and a number of tiny pictures appeared down one side. There seemed to be a bunch of dragons, various castles, strange-looking houses, a group of fairies, some unicorns, and any number of creatures and things he couldn’t begin to guess the names of.

REGINA        Still meekly, but with a lot of green dancing in her eyes, Regina kicked off her sandals, fastened all the leg straps, took the deepest breath she could, and tightened the top ones until the garment fitted her exactly while her lungs were full.  ‘Whatever side he’s on, I’m on the other one,’ she whispered to Tickle, now standing on the dressing table next to her.  She picked up the sheathed sword, tried to tuck it into the straps, gave up, and carried it. Then the Magician beckoned, and the two followed him through the bubble wall, Regina taking rather ridiculously short, fast steps from having to keep her knees close together.

As Regina and Tickle emerged from the ‘bubble’ their ears felt strange, as if they had suddenly shot out of deep water.  Their eyes blinked and watered in the almost blinding light from a sun that seemed higher than it had been at home.   They cringed as a wave of heat struck them, like opening an oven door.  The trouble was, the door didn’t close again.  This seemed to be the normal temperature.  Regina couldn’t understand how the Magician could stand his coat, leggings and boots, nor how the four who had carried the sword, and were now standing with three of the biggest horses she had ever seen, could bear being in livery.  She even felt sorry for Tickle, although his Siamese fur was not very thick.

In spite of the heat, Tickle bounded high into the air with every step, and Regina found that for some reason she seemed to be able to take the same number of paces as the Magician but still move ahead of him, instead of her hobbling quickstep in the bedroom.

The horses were attached to three two-wheeled chariots shaped rather like cut-off catamaran boats.   A sharp prow came forward on either side of the animals, with a handrail a little way back from each of the points.  Behind the handrails were platforms where the charioteers apparently stood.  Five spears were mounted on either side of the chariots, facing forward, but it seemed that these could be spread out to make a protective barrier, as one of them had its spears extended rather like opening a fan.  Each massive horse had armour on its chest, and a spike extended from it.   Regina found herself thinking that a chariot like that, pulled at a gallop towards a foot soldier, would be enough to make him wish he’d joined the navy.

FOREST CIRCLE QUEST

Meekly, they followed as the creature led them some way back across the common in the direction of their home.  Then, the lamb veered off onto a pathway leading towards a group of small trees at the far end, waiting for them as they skirted the worst of the puddles - this had been the first time the rain had stopped for the whole weekend.

They knew the copse well, having picnicked and played there from youngest childhood, but now as soon as they entered it something looked strange and unfamiliar.  The path seemed to end abruptly and, as if through slightly frosted glass, they could see trees larger than any they had ever noticed there before, and beyond them a glimpse of a garden far too beautiful to be real.

The lamb motioned with his head again, and as he went ahead of them his outline seemed to blur.  Unconsciously grabbing one another’s hands (they never held hands, normally) the Parkers followed.  They had the strangest feeling: a bit like when ears are blocked and they get unblocked suddenly, but more as if their bodies had been taken apart and put back together again all in an instant.  Then, so many strange things were happening it was hard to take them all in.

They were standing on a log.  The trees, and glimpses of garden between them, no longer looked hazy, but seemed even more breathtakingly lovely.  To their left, the lamb was facing them with an eager expression; while to their right was a mouse, standing on hind legs in the middle of a lily pad floating in the air.  Next to him hovered a board with all sorts of keys dangling from pegs.  Beyond was something like a large square fishnet, hanging in midair as if pegged on a line. A high-pitched ‘Peep, peep!’ came from the direction of the mouse, followed by a voice saying squeakily, ‘Welcome to Fabulous Forest.  You have logged in at …’

‘Never mind that now, there isn’t time.  You can log them in when - and if - they come back.’  Now the speaker was … no, it couldn’t be … but it was!  The lamb!

Percival turned to his sister.  ‘If this is a dream, I suppose it must be a nightmare, with you in it,’ he said, hastily releasing her hand.

© Colonialist May 2013 (WordPress/Blogger)

REALLY AWFUL HUSH

I have this lovely Blogger spot,
But interest in it there is not,
And I have not the least idea
How I could get some readers here.

 
My other blogs have been less tragic:
People came, as if by magic,
And in due course they grew to be
A thriving small community.


Here, the reaction is the same
As if I had announced my name
On my arrival to a ball –
When had departed one and all!

THE REALLY AWFUL REALITY OF ILLUSION

Theme: The illusionof reality – set by side view.

*

What, then, is reality?

Reality is what you see?

Or, translated into word,

It becomes what you have heard?

No! When you have grown more wise

You will not believe your eyes,

And in ears, too, learn you must,

That you cannot place your trust.

Magic tricks are all around,

Lying speeches, too, abound ... 

What about the sense of smell?

No, you can’t trust that, as well;

Possum’s decomposing stink

Does not mean he’s dead, I think,

For it is a possum’s way

To ‘die’ to live another day!

In what’s real, the only fit

Is what you have made of it,

So, if it is real to you

That will simply have to do.

But it doesn’t mean to say

It is real in every way ...

Thus, the only thing that’s real

Is illusion, don’t you feel?

© October 2012 Colonialist (Noble Endeavours Indeed)

SCREAMINGLY FUNNY

I think this video, which a friend emailed to me without crediting the source, is one of the funniest things I have seen in a long time.  The sound needs to be on a setting high enough to hear the ticking of the clock if one is to enjoy the full dialogue from the first warnings right up to the end remark.

HAIKU - HAPPY HOUR

In place of visual, I have rhyme and wordplay.  :)

Happy hour is when
Downing to get high; and then
Rise to low again.

Immy and the Knights samples (book and music)

The music for these pages will be found on the player on the sidebar (track 5 - 'Immy pretending to be a witch').  I greatly enjoyed orchestrating the knights with wobbly voices rushing off into the distance, and the toad.

REALLY AWFUL RHYME UPDATE

Wait no more with breath that's bated -
This here blog's to be updated!
I had lost it for some time
For no reason - and no rhyme!

Forest Circle Quest is done,
Immy series gave me fun,
Don't know what I'm on about - ?
I'll announce it soon, no doubt!

REALLY AWFULLY RACIST RHYME

TO PUT YOU IN THE MOOD FOR THIS ONE, JUST READ, LISTEN TO OR WATCH THE NEWS.     ANY NEWS.

 The human race needs to be scratched
As something that cannot be won;
 Participants all are mismatched,
And it never should have begun!
  Of all the species one might pick
  Upon, into a race to stick,
  This one will really make you sick -
With cheating it is overrun!

 As spectacle it is obscene;
Competitors ugly, indeed;
 All sickly, and not very clean -
They are quite a horrible breed!
  To put this lot into a race
  Is nothing short of a disgrace;
  They are completely out of place –
A FINISH line is what they need!

© Colonialist October 2011 (Letterdash/Wordpress Blogs)

WRECK HOARDER, PEA AN' NO END VIOLENT TREE-OH

  This is my sneaky way of luring the musically challenged to view a post which refers to a:

RECORDER, PIANO, AND VIOLIN TRIO

which you must admit is what the Subject sounds like.
  Hey, where has everyone dashed off to?
  Well, just in case anyone is left, let me say that as you may have noted (giggle) one of my spare-time activities lately has been to compose a first movement of my second of these animals. The results are posted in the top player under my badges.   Be warned – it goes on for nearly eleven minutes.
  I had fun with it. The opening sees the recorder do a two-octave scale and then a wiggle one whole note above that before coming down a bit again. This gives the player an early indication of the range I expect. I never go beyond that into the ‘window-covering’ higher notes, so a moderately-skilled player can manage.
  Then the violin comes in, and is joined by the piano, after which they carry on separately or together.
  I have enjoyed bringing into a fairly melodic work some tensions by way of liberties on the time, without actually changing it. This works well to create a slight feeling of unease in places where the music leaves the jollier sections.
  As always, I have tried to create the sort of listening experience which takes one on a ‘quest’ type of adventure (which I so enjoy writing novels about as well).

© July 2011 Noble Endeavours Blog (Blogger)

PUNCTUATION - REALLY AWFUL

Gotta    -     Before I do

Show some writing tools to you

Name with which you plan we grip this

We would call it an    …

When to a query best one hark

It should be shown by    ?

For emphasis creation park

At end an    !

Most may think that you know Greek

If you call this an    /

But wee habit of the trash

Is to name it forward    /

Though it should not cause a backlash

If one says this is a    \

Shortest pause is coming from a

Placement of a little    ,

But for longer lemme roll on

With a wink a    ;

That is semi   With the whole on

Body part you have is    :

At each sentence end you drop
In conclusion a    .

Though the Yanks are truly weriod

And will call    .    a period

Thought that I would never crack it

Finding rhyme to go with    (

To enclose them then with this

Puts words in     ( )

Last one I will toss to see

Is a small    ’

Placed in pairs converted from is

Then known as    “ ”

© September 2010 Colonialist (Letterdash)

FRIDAY FLASH 55 - FAITHFUL

Rhoda’s blue eyes brimmed. ‘ …and when I just have a visitor, your decrepit mongrel goes nuts. I’ve had it! He goes - or I do!'

After staying to the end with his boyhood companion, Mike drove to a secluded spot and sobbed.

Rhoda was phoning. ‘Tomorrow afternoon let’s make it here, Frank. Dog problems over.’

© August 2010 Colonialist

THEME THURSDAY EQUALS ... ?

=

An ‘equals’ symbol two lines show,

One is above and one below:

At showing ‘equal’, that’s a flop,

For one line’s always on the top!

ll

Equality might greater be

If lines had verticality?

But that is also not so bright -

One’s always left; the other right!

+

Should, then, a plus sign make the grade?

No, with success that can’t be laid;

For such opposing lines reflect,

Additionally, wrong effect!

x

‘X’ would then seem to be the best

To get equality addressed –

But still, with that, you’d lose the plot:

X multiplies to mark the spot!

© August 2010 Colonialist

SWAPPING SEXTENTSIONS – REALLY AWFULLY X-RATED!

You ever had a yen ter
Become the other gender,
And have some bits where formerly were none?
It could be quite impressive,
Conversely, though, depressive,
Those body parts designed for having fun;
A sudden superstructure,
Requiring DD-cup-ture,
Would need some quick adjustment of the stance;
Or, things that tend to dangle,
If caught up in the mangle,
Might overcome desires for romance;
And, if quite used to rising,
It could appear surprising
When nether parts remained right out of view,
While sudden new protrusion
Could really cause confusion,
And leave one not quite knowing what to do;
Then, getting monthly gut-ache
Could certainly not but make
One greatly disillusioned with that state;
Yet, having one’s midsection
With permanent projection
Could easily be something one might hate;
Though it might be exciting
At first, when over-nighting,
The pleasures of the change would quickly fade,
So earlier effusion
Would lead to disillusion -
Perhaps it’s best to stay as we were made!

© August 2010 Colonialist

Magpie Tales - A FEAT SOAK CLEVER

Beware of dangerous punning levels - you have been warned!

Warmly immersed;

Going with flow,

Day is rehearsed -

Toe-tally so!

' "This piggie went..."

Market, oh-ho!

"Home-time this spent" -

That's a no-no!

"This had roast beef"...

Meat's getting low;

"This none." Good grief,

Don't I just know!

Like my "wee-wees"

It's a no-show...

Soapless, one sees -

That to my woe!

Wish I could tap

Into the flow;

This sud-den crap -

Faucet to go!'

Friday Flash 55

Fifty-five words; but I include the title in my count:

-

DINE-NIAL

 'Usual table, M’sieur.  Madame joining you?'

 ‘Thanks, Armand,’ the distinguished-looking man nodded, and was seated.  In due course he rose to greet his guest. Armand fussed around pulling out the chair, pouring wine, and taking orders.

 Later another diner whispered, ‘He’s alone; why the pretence…?’

 Armand shrugged. ‘He cannot accept she died last year.’

© August 2010 Colonialist (Word/Press/Letterdash)