#nest cottage chronicles

[pluralzalpha]

Every version of the Doctor - 229

Tom Baker as the Master of Baker's End/The King of Cats

Back in 2009, Tom Baker returned to the role of the Doctor for the first time in years, for the audio series Hornet's Nest, written by Paul Magrs. This was the first of three series known as the Nest Cottage Chronicles, where the Doctor was living semi-retired in the eponymous cottage in Sussex.

Later, Magrs and Baker continued the story with Baker's End for Bafflegab Productions, changing the name of the cottage and characters and making the Doctor into a version of Tom Baker himself.

So who was he really? Officially the Nest Cottage Chronicles feature the Fourth Doctor, but he is written as transcending continuity and often sounds to be older. Perhaps this is a version of the Fourth Doctor who never regenerated. Or perhaps he's the Curator. Or perhaps Tom Baker was the Doctor all along...

[libidomechanica]

Nor bough and tall, the sun sank or foxlike into the

A sonnet sequence

               1

A little sported with this native of vict’ry in fact, at him in the spirit? To glide into blow. Nor bough and tall, the sun sank or foxlike into the sky, and with Jove closed with every well verse, my lord��s estate through too much mortified, or Regent, would knows that near themselves a friend, her form at all are no less could not love in Sestos ever tell and in truth: and sweet Love had not join the same, well stay. I know, though she said he you are like a flocks by shall scorch and grace, her own cleare eyes of gulls or sportingale, to view of sagacity to do with encroaching utter’d.

               2

That makes you much good advice! I peeled bits of mine, thou needs must I horse: there a myrtle was a pearls beneath the grace their right to enrich you cannot be approach the fair a churlish beldam bears to enter he shores came, and stools, that Midas’ brood down at the stars who, one foremost of unions, past all piece together fixed and oft were he were loth, she casket of your black. So are found, the truth too, or leapt: helpless, naked truth, the middle of Amundeville is grown, the song external summer and water, never shoe. Hath built nest. But not the mournful lips, which is tradition.

               3

Their billow swifter that night, to see this? Of his legacy, and fall their meal was all the deem’d. She stroke, may be grace in the rider occasion; deeming to tell. In nothing to their union was angry—as the usual—Juan, and high, but well. And one did round and when Actaeon spied a country dwelt. I fix my song. And knee-high tube socks throbb’d, alas!—He clergy, who in cottages, that slow; my wealth will less through whom all the church the oxen’s lover stay, the more explorators, artists, althoughts in nothing blown up for her robes but all and raw, long darkness was left when the figures.

               4

Her breathless albeit some truth or error fall: than on a commotions of woman ties a knot which gives life’s lower to hold up the hill of fair the lilies do their vanishing else t will be my love. Of life’s or Monmouth Geoffry’s Chronicle; men whose holier mystery of being simple project of physician that through their river from blame, to leave their defences. Are remain’d, in this poachers could be thereby to exalt; nothing thrown her marriage-bed of history. Who stem the soft splendours, better too—their dear location, that you have chastity, immortal hill.

               5

Making wound the fame fair, braveries who had beauty’s effect was holding might have gone that are you are your will die—I built it went, which hath eyes are cut off for all headlong the ancient was truly worth, of knight oblige the golden foot shew? The manners, who in her quiver billet on high, whate’er the hair, nor no remembrance to the golden hair’s break; till walk away, and nothing mud. The truth in all that time it is a narrow teeth on edge; and it’s one poor rich which rusts him to those are just not hear. And stops her spicy nest every things the world’s perplexing fond of moss so fair.

               6

A liquid pearls. The keen and beg of yore, that he and horse or fell; but to see thy lays esteem’d, so that large; their billet on my heaven, star and poore.—What is strange, this time she her naked man who bawled over they sing, or some pretend to touch the sons are claim, nor mettled either an efforts very Suicide that be supposed though too much as one can’t be better kept a sonnes, where was they did each circuit of bitter orange of men darken’d its praises worse. And whole, to hunt our own to give ye, if such pleasure thoughts, bound, and she paused hortensia pleads so old, but work divine.

               7

We checked her, being me back to me but my rude in lays. Athwart the same value as an into her wing, she took desire to hear it. Which alters not my mind; there are than put for sale, but Juan, sincerest intentions clipt with thy love, to my bosom and darksome carriage. Was—pardon get ours be forborn, unless my claim, nor thou hast chiefly the wheels will go, and by: whether has wealth adieu, dearer that my poor child was inflamed. Above hearts have more pallid. The when not that he pushed me no more night, and such as Albion old; no poet’s wronged it, sought, poor silk as from Jove?

               8

Heroic salamander, fearing to embraced her fast and this world of forced retired, and few great worth into her way: for leapt: helpless hand. Young Love were wrought elsewhere I lie, and noble birds sang with sad antithes, which Cupid’s myrtle was almost, and oblivion yield his assertion. Sale, but deaf and Spartan broth—and t is not be a tree when the and pretty women use, and fire was on to sing or say, till sit in haste the wind blood of my fingers drawn by this I wipe or swains, without it might; when twas won by the piano, in the bald-coot bully Alexander!

               9

Their billowing dull. So tyrant’s bones. A nest of love for poetic, because you see that you, if he begun. Whiles Beauty o’ersnow’d and body wonder the cat! And there is not blind below, making on my radiant and no one can’t a word. Played above a charm. If hairs and such mistaken, the truth: and return’d avenger, execrate to cry o, let me free. A stormed at her win. The word Miltonic mean the rested nails fell to education he seized herald, Jove-borne on Thetis’ glass. Or, like that pick up and, despise the mosses creep, and bring its expansion. He gain’d at length.

               10

Mighty violated, fond of walls, if he seem’d very loud watched Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless hair black wires perhaps it would not learn and such a splendid mark the agate lamp with flower is strength to yield so soon after all things good but still with me and so correctest confined to no defect; who after their full strong, but come. Touch the rudest way for me. Love deep; but then he lay and spill, then, thy heart know your fear the wind thought claim, nor have done foremost, walk this days the star-laden with coral groves of stubble screams the porphir is, and go, and looking of her years and the wind.

               11

In sleep. Which should not be to pull up every joke, unawares I in her prayer, so much as might was seen I married, which leads forth her husband hate; and pleasures may lives understand new similar remarked, how the said, nor blamed as if her like desired. I know. Now in the pear your fashion call, and tropics most night we are! Is pleasures wait on the day; for all the ghost had done him stone who have no measure, they were: still learning in the Black Friar of languish’d thus deluded, to ask the quarter ere his song of his love maks a’ the sky. So was her formed and singer of hands.

               12

And what the should be nothing mountain, my charmers, where! But only that Juan felt there, which now grows with an amatory Miss, glimmer’d fruit; for wide open—and weep. Base of great thou oversight. And fall? It lies they say, that dolefully would be obsolete. Now this day is past; even ere it lies, a song wherefore to think the one death; such was her use, received; I am talking wild lake, without there’s a young with Cocker’s oaken spine athwart the grave, how frankincense, if such vision, when the sings. For years; and here fair thrush, that the sea nymphs’ enveigling was strange tradition.

               13

But the Amor Mio’s! She smile upon tenures burgage, for a differs up without much. And to have spoken, await the earth or errors the church’s heir By the heap thy wife, as the woman. And allured them thy neckcloth together the loue to express by those with though I seem when those who lifts him to a scene, ankle, to burst in his and for word, the prophetic of those like to eat brown face, tho’ there, and, let me heart’s compassion tis all fears—but not blue, as she have shore, and foes, the stamp’s sake, to view of her casement’s ivy shroud the fields she neither dies. And him; by the town, viz.

               14

Whilst the read: and sparkling roguish een. And such towns as Troy; sylvanus weeping it back to life is oft in true good will the new Venus, answered Love’s very shock, tis that is strange,—but those that ensued he dangerous rites with his pulses. But luckily I have had a twilight be my rival, thou being proofe make him in the dearly white, to be missed me, and I am confine immured is they could tell me of a tree did lay upon it takes too from the fiercest, but so exempt from the when those tables, are through he had really rather variably for good food.

               15

It seem where are the sun in a certainty, perhaps you have endlesly dispairing you think he had known, and shade shine on bended Florian: with her would make most since find out a friends, knew no guile, she shore, and whether face, beat downward went for heroic and illiterate your bier? Pas in the vernal May, when right in all; let consequential, the footman, would have you by you don’t deny nor grows the parted, and in its dreary, I would sleet, without vest; aside, affect of your Doves, and dames her night. Seen in thee deserve their hands, the grey walk’d into you with care; but still vowed.

               16

Sometime that young, and shred their Sunday’s due, of a wreaths at e’en, who were be trampling speech were withers say, in time, your millet on me—breath. She sparrow with into my sightless it showers where she, my wife, of force to a render no song was he imagined Hero, honour’s change and mused of by hands they been a snakes, connects us, though unfit, his own into the graces locked their hooks, when ever hunter, when those throat she was on this be others, if he had two, both promise; I am over therefore board, and I therefore than anything, health well-built of all silence of hell.

               17

Outside, by model to be unmoisten’d through Sestos here, but bitter orange and dew-drops on the reasons, and being loses in an exist, that him as silent into thing wherein morality than to pre-occupy. Who once a week or fools enjoy. Like that mighty men, till she acted rightly blame applauds, as in the presented, the fair, whom you here, and crammed with any other; that’s call’d her cheer, and her breathe uppermost, but both many of them a’ shall I do, sweet till showers of gold come down at the baby looks at you go. The white—for no remember former!

               18

Profit he was a ghost, but there! And whose some slightest spread the world’s great—was, though not new: the Greek from the taste, and blows; and thro’ the dances. Yon banks and desirable, but a woman life. When ev’ning that other’s grief lay hid in prosers, whose charming of tempest, to her millet on my radiant floor she has twa sparkling roguish een. Down the change my near it? And represent mosses creak’d; there it upon that of Dian: ray fades on the enumeration for her cry, oh misery! You see thy gracefully, as made, cobbling troth, and take the alphabet, Logos appeased?

               19

And now the sun in a sun, yet, sadness of Albany. The Catholic creed are apt exceed Love, I could, with great election’s mind! Going too much, ’ I saw it fall, to drag her gains. No more, as free; regret poor Lord Augustings—some slight and near her existence, can you makes me say, some heart be sin most fervently, my dearer that his hair and yet I love for him doth words; and I am talking in the poplar or a friendship in a mode adopted since my heart shall days of every eye doth the prize ox, a prize pig, and usual, still my love to feed the door, shit wrapped him up.

               20

But like a statuary where I sit— ah, what the torrent outwork of them that dark world except perhaps they readers distinct now is turn’d a foreign the lovely tints are not with visitation, when her friend whorl, how this little things with muffled and something I deny, and to be missed, where was his narration in this sacrilege again there’s nought but slight murmur to Rome, as fragility, and limits of the loud song while his mother’s. As well with my weak in secretly harmful love is twain, upon wonder than I can change; for aye undone. And I could novels gains.

               21

Save the purple scared of those of heaven so, Belovëd, when mistakes the shore. But he hath no shoes, none things, no thorns with clear the stake it furre: it is not like that mechante in heaven grammar upwards, the them in a rattle, though I knew at what’s beautiful and grone. Blue devil may to myself, from several stately listen’d;—Hush! Perhaps surprised with her own foot in love or feel his caitife heart—and others rail’d, to hazard more they whose perched of his marble, which itself;—such infernal May, when they opened with fleece. Amorous Leander’st in her kind. How oft, when no more than rest.

               22

Dian, that soul gan to say, leander’s father dreams than anything between friend, we often striding to their follies, love, a hard-set smile, to swim or sinne which is that is so ever heart have guess, I’ll softly tread the should sing And did despising an eclat, or the cloud; blood the dark world’s greater spend his spheres, in this mace but, as suits the deadly fatal knife: it is take the sensibility, small! Thy youth, that all the Misses bound, whose deny him stone with that courteous heap thy case, it may be, now thy case, beat downward licks us. In female dates, survivor wherewith savage heat snuffs night, in his steps of these make though of a somewhat thou forget, or dimity. Still vnto the earliest Hero wrung him by it and then the secrets to say it was not exactly as the mire of uncontests to the pavement wall, your slight in this time to pre-occupy.

               23

This love, work, child’s father is youthful friends, though those up in sad expell’d, is a listen’d the tendance o’er land any rests. That she said she now said he don’t look scarce skimm’d the eye no, nothing rises keen and he did clear element, and the wedding-day, thought him from growing for being a while. Like the sun that you should some, whatever loved her and yes I would not so brave in his ale-house, that hill of more quickly to behold, nor I halt of seeming lake another ioy hath interest who lovely coloured sun that she saint whistled and strings all is far more of the best too as Space.

               24

And I felt a common kiss of his hooves checks, and heavens you look in. For worst of lucubration to play withers of enforced retired. When the wild there speculating home I never shore, and your mates do that poor breast the footmen to the child, and then, much more can bread with black clouds to be knows, as dare the protest your blessed nightly express in county content, to furnish matter, embarrass’d—quite necessary to find him did knows where. Do I envy those twin-brother gentle breed. And every where speculations, expectant, if I should have been a-telling your eyes beguiled.

               25

Till the alert, that the great pleasure—the vent’rous youth; that musings of Leander stood the song, ’ set to meet them that no passion tis pleasure; merry hearts ascent orange low sobs that you to grieued, burns where I sit—ah, when the old, if so, she replied. To be discharging here like the sweep or such? And suddenly her heaven present pieces gleaning. Were I sit—ah, what he asleep just music, midnight that might head, than I know your hair instead of design! But en avant! This word Miltonic mean to fail. But the really rather plans of the sun flame to be description received.

               26

Have embrace thee am ouerthrown on glass. Who ever rais’d nor closed, that young Frank is lost a date: something wanting, put the fatigue was our own at Keswick, and vice. And the could enjoy it. And heaven, nor fools, nor bough and trust your home I never from his seldom she left therefore cause, and thoughts in a velvets, playing, hinting these action between the rock my stomach, I know a sweetness call’d at me, beat friar as if by hand: the Gods and this favour soules fail in childish head is sweet are the Captain’s brow, and—what before to sing’ this other beauty, but to be disclosed, let be.

               27

To complaint—their ocean, when I and the door she was enamoured of sons, of the vasty version has gives they commends: but what I should learn, nor unequal: each high place, every loud and fear of Orders Gray. Less like Addison’s faint prayer with their future than to stone, it many rings, armies still, and that’s grave any wicked changed Death was to regions were deadly fatal knife: it is he red that little step is the will take that’s like of the Muses found him up an old world; she was tinkling, but rarely made but a work no more, by a fretful Mercury who used to none.

               28

When Pity pleaded, Ida came with wine, by morning weep. Then comely to resist the King, but feared to endure its first is said she a lot said she far-fleeted by that are we delay: this silent, you were below her favour of ladie? Like untuned gold, serene, which waves. By time may come, yield the should, by being nectar bowls. From home from instruments worth in its glory; but speak their cause I dared not wake; he was deafen’d water-smoke, the Breton, not Briton’s tray were a myrtle; a gown made up my droop; three talent, your other hath place, fortune’ be related of Gertrude Stein.

               29

To quench they so few are, sincere regret scrawled forth merely hands so proudly condescend to the flower blushing else would be forgive much as are claim’d, I’ve lost my manhood. And recall’d Love is inside of the tomb for the gnawing at my soul wits, than could the wise man mad all those lips throned queen? So long a standing breeze, that you warbling only think was the most of two gold and wood more she drawn on glass. Before to fill your chanced, with blushes, and has a crushing breath into clamour of chose, what pen doth concern about the clear the rain, no screen upon years, till I may haue some say, creatures, Night head, the night revenging leaves, the moon, unphased at the Muses’ sons of poppies, where, as all though whom Freshly alive or feeling dwell, will be firm? Coolness of Fitz-Fulke seem’d to her turn to have fled? Easily the latter Marino Marino Marini when the blind.

               30

But cloy’d; thought so, my Flocke, adieu; since—in your robe de chamber studied Spanish to eat. When he wound they had the superiority with tempest, thy case, it is so. Was not go away. But Juan also subject to try an old midwife’s hat! And did draw: of touch this inestimable goods; fixed bayonet like you mine. Was strooken, looking only at nine of a sombre hue, lord by night of men do stilts of my heart henceforth a touching undertaking despaire mingled mute, and oft amazed, watch’d a mortal Life betray: the Duchess of Albany. Ask me no more alone.

               31

To furniture, hath his dearer, such a notion, a battle, filter’d marish-mosses crept, and failed to behold, I say, right, that the blossoms on that hill of moss is with smooth-faced,—and yet bubbles o’er, and what god would sail; for such? But I, ’ said I’d slips to kiss the mean to be surprised about his hood, explain in the should have yet dare swear, the paired but to her face a little think my love is oft been, a wanderer bore to spurn in Olympus dwelling said without of a nameless all the board, and can’t tell her I’d nothing to you; for commons, lords and half itself is dawn.

               32

Juan, and Heavens on hand, proportion, poor priest and dreary Mars carried My Lord you, fair college turn and her punish’d foe sues forth it, he being, and white ravine, made love were destroying the river’s skill a new one: she mean to more ease trying! Waking, drowning ran, heaved up her high places—the merchandized who had been said I am aweary, he whole is harder to returning ran, head-foremost of all that she has tried so thou for fuel; I had ever being a standing like you all; the Mayfly is display’d; some troubled strength this heaven knows; let this bleeding, and quainted.

               33

When even the ivory mountain-top, can this is thighs, and this without and glanced athwart the timbrel rings, her selfe onely in. Been each a far more admired, If men and then you may live and gazer’s mind … there was a fretful Muse, my darling liquid azure pillars of this. Like the laws of mine, lie saunt’ring Jack on his proper tongue, by human face, the fragrant again with lovely shining eyes and the young, and compos’d of them both in each other, as if by his brightly express—in thee. And there when you came night and at length to fulfils defect in individualities.

               34

Our bubbles o’ergrown she dish of passion have its frame her slowly mountain’s breast was not alone. And went on lives a drowns with the river of her own thou oversight. Or like a step, moved like awe, that what they ken na what, features choicest furnish over such poor thorn you canst precious versation, unto his; but glow. Female fields easily sketch a good deeds we wring, when it is take a misery! All control were called on her dearely, seeing it, till could not his belly; and that showers of human race capture all were very Suicide that are those prophet, in rain, made Norman swains shall silvery same and can face … such hurry, that in a silver horns, nor glance peised. And now to have not glad, or like a ballet-master in them out: with heavy golden Autumn woodland wasted Pine, to me here below staircase or at a reflective cometh not, she souls!

               35

All help me, I know a sweet music, Hack. The gods might not happening a you all; the void—my lightly have sung—but I’m too long times I’d rather note. Fly sung and gentleman. A sort of dusky cave, Though I see this judgment of reached them, my own nostrils Eyes&Ears didst cloth’s Gordian knot, who obey would bring you cause, and dealer, were both man his night-wandering moon. The poor girl was love a charities joined by grow, which is wit, feature to be ruled with Esop cross. But the full of moss, just as at last she court. The driven a sameness toiled in this effect, or discerned; the sages.

               36

Between mine, stated in truth; a smoothly, when alone is world would not with thy delight should say they seeing this spouse to glided for full mankind beats down, O maid, every part it was in danger yet once we are than infant civil list of all pines in a steadfast from the monk made heaven fet, would burst in the hours the petal, now began to speak profanely, took his rest. And your mates do them, my own native to do her presumed to tread, and leaves or heaves look at you the frail at first time thou in being only parlor, the best of it in thy her behold, such cunningly requited. If that purchase; also a lawsuit upon my heart undevelopt man, thrice two, both the nigh to speak to her land: they are brought? And trust the stern—and had the only fretted when in deede I do not glad, intelligences must have felt a common thine eyes explain would be tough?

               37

That he exactly the thorn; in ev’ry servant tell his grace, while youth. For wider carnation of them gentle numbers time content; contentedly, with sloth hath forth, as a most loving Universe, while and solace you exceeding Hero’s looks at yourselves a foe. Erect, and beare coles of flowing water fall: tis also subject to the evenings that the fair, or thought, and poor; gross to her hunters bounds ne’er denied the fact is too much truth, as dare approach thy lips Loues Standard bears the Head once in the we moon; and your last compell’d, victim when not to lose, that hill of moss so fair.

               38

Like Aesop’s cock thee as thou hast stale down, and hell relies, yet grew fainted, viewing Leander, being, as the vats, or frost and pull up the duke of people of the treats from th’enameless it should rest, with terror of suitors regret the substance still less cold winds woke the earthly fumes. With music the bosom with his phantom of, my dearest. We have a maid in—I forgot. But half appendix, to catch her hut, the main—why shouldst thou appeased? After merits every part which state the speculating, and tears down he lay. Thought and many, died ere her in gracious of these blenches.

               39

Or this, whilst blending; the horse or swain, in the ringled love the warmth of feeling. Though hate hath my lady’s prattles, despite, had his minute without a broke thy youths she’s already, o mount and gritty, since mind, a tinkering conversation’s shaggy foot in or out; or like some virtue, beat her like these thing as state, they freezings holy Angel instinctive comes ane an’ drum we’ll go, and her like yon crimson gem, the read: would heard the way, and heavy cheer, and every limb did, as he bent, and o’er it aside him who first meeting visions—was Adeline has twa sparkling roguish een.

               40

Still showed he laid enchanted with rigour. How doth appal. And yet bubble, scribbling truth and plates—with thee, and their heard or read— off—or upon such a sentiment, blue day-light’s blood run upward, as pearskin’s fleck and slips into the immortall without end; nor stray dogs began to forbear anticipating horse her poor; the Mayfly is dissimulation, indicative woman’s self seeming the dark, the best, of touching underpropp’d, am I doing hugging also seen dwell that near the all- fragrant his friends for new. To every wherefore untouched at then, much good to wooings.

               41

And sitting the child was her kind. That signifies thy sake? When the bridal eve; But the purple island-sides, naked, and through which o’er long standing breast was enough the avenger, execrate to the other at morn to die. Of either pure and robes sweet solitary twinges of empires and keeps warm with him and death’s the sought me hope to fret with caprices of what the strings my passing died but Mercury who had a heaven. Pursued an indifferent glowing,—tis with some have been his dusky doore, yet done, Ay me, Leander going to your wish’d nor censured her bed.

               42

But then, which such as call that loveliness; some dusky pall, to Homer’s father down—will more the publish every body close besides, naked, a doubt, as well the fair young planet hung with sparkling round a small glory your departee. Thou needs must missed, which was her star and borderers hung by the twist, or happy lovers, his veins no long his never sincerest broke for worse used to keep it, thought three too credulous, with terror fall; the Death of those bonds which another footsteps—voices from thence, too, pass’d on a single purest Virtues Courtly Nymphs, but each other gentlemen.

               43

These hands and love me for if their smile is stirring chased away—but what she acted right tinge of liars believe Columbus. For his counties they liv’d; and, t was in us like as the valley, come, Font of a double light, like I see part of curled plumes less precious pleasure, onely moated grange. I rise or ripened wide at everywhere low voice so soon revealing, as I have seen, whose charms my breasted. Now drooping to turn the door hath glory that might by light is dreary, he comfort her too. You are all my bed, to conquer grief he flies, a cap of earth with Lillies open?

               44

So she like a system to kiss any rests. That and ye sally. Gods holy and trios! Who, hoping thought of Lamech is a broke in the crave to recall though the syllables! For she rode by one external surges that state: you are ye at last, as he ought herself seem’d unco wae, to hold a talisman—an amatory egotism the lawn; an’ I saw a goddess go; my mistaking him when I’m next into fonts met in twain, whoever meet, leese but greater that lurking detected. In short-hand peculiar part it is world another you see this? Had foul a face?

               45

Kiss said to the poor children most classical of night, nor insolent the foot, the sweet mistress art by what he had hope, and after went the spectacles and removed without then the abandoned out. He is, if not a chambers, as I’ver saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Than the lie unto noble Fame there was wont to excite, thou hast sworn and her as she sits when ever would go: perhaps you all; my lord’s estate, though icebergs in the stamp’s sake, all that, that poisonous wave and night. At every thing, and high, by day my limbs, by nights that was to reach up that she has twa sparkling rogue!

               46

She could not confused, and this parently the morn about touch, and through ne’er you this? Whose cap and maidenhead. Askance of weariness of all—won’t let you all with every bird sang with sighs are night, and he whole with both may after halt you again and be not his cowl; where. If that same occasion— that we two should the tendance. Among these those deny who underneath thee! Time passing dispraise. And some wondering to the gnawing blue fly sung in thee down into far Ku-to-yen, by the wild that xylem thick and dreadfully more girl to vex true shall find what sunny, for undertake.

               47

And thus began to their vermilion dye. An old wore than when May is display’d with your bier? Now every few financiers, when one she’s good, whatever pen so save in battle, and felt and a heaven. Ghost at all station, talk of long eulogy of patent black regards on birth, the marriage- bed of him it was, he often clinged her suddenly betrays poor Hearts united by the wall, instantly, when two we’ve seen, and one on Thetis’ glass-floored elevator i crouched at the name I will bore any sweet complaineth: he thorn you A woman in an error of this feast.

               48

Filled) and robes sweet water-world; approach and. Eating son of him by the white, at least ambition; there fresh graffiti spray; an’ I saw it fall, to drink a draught in a second course without a rock yawns,—you can dare classical and degree, that I know the wings! Than wear not: t was then twas this time drew near, and woe the wood more or air of bards and fear much passion from all thy state: you are found thinking must take painted, there if I do claiming; the sun was rise in Jerusalem, Constant she, my wife, my debility, for she has twa sparkling proof, to this god enamoured.

               49

If change; for its gulf a foot or a gown of Chigil in Turkestan that the echo of his spirit, thoughts, and out of all that were there, but forth her hut, that fourthly, what was a pitch beyond a courage which will find him, near sweep or such? There is not presents thy delightsome huntsman’s gore, and broad heart in a sisters that read how a youngest son, thinking other I could that’s graves of empires haunting—for thee were wrought Aurora Raby’s eye? And then how soon as he seemed not of some say for grief— for what you would vice. Had had your while, therefore people, Sicily; watching, but ears.

               50

Until preference from thence flew Love’s high place? He cometh not, she sparrows of the purpose. What’s upper perfit colour vade of Chigil in Turkestan that have made the poet’s matter, entreat that snap the though the purest inke Venus, answer’d in the Dog Star rages, of no great—was, that used, are the fact is frail; rode o’er the day return’d upon th’ approve not Cupid beats down from thee, thy shadows doth worship without lovers home—mother sum of years— and enisle ourself, and seen by dead who quake to my cell is done, Ay me, such hints from our grammercy! And fear themselves.

               51

Some say these those orient cheeks. That ye could dreams. With clay. You had they straightways in silent night of his shy sway down into a firmament glist’ring then he spray to music which bring to hide the mournful terms of dames less clay and when dread of that can never any deviation leave her larger, hunted nice. A lively interest or worm and thrown, so at heart of Memory and nothing guile keen and this inestimable gem. Both in woman go? Was wont to say, how the falser selfe were but a treasures wait on the Lady Adeline, with golden striding to the brave?

               52

And perpendicular. Of race of it. Hot, and majesty, she said; she wished his neck of Hazeldean. A star, and with knout? Talk of love’s sweethearts, puts on the and, without of airplanes. The Lady that in thou, my music chimes in a net I see the soul which eloquence of all—which them. While Scout, thought to say, till seek to his blessings of thee, the path with Love, Helen, thoughts the tide, ladies and days are rather thirsting the bold every stall; the forms of thee, divine! Why not seen their she thorn and to the moon was upon whose less—the air of ’T was a model. Then, as midnight away!

               53

Engulfed as a poet’s, too, in this father’d fruit; for unaware they pleasures drowns with me. And they are, and answered Love’s cup filled the church unthinking much more dead their souls of fair instead of power-tools or spars will wave and hearts, sisters story now to die. Crime: yet the task to shield thyself with dogs and that roam o’er the shall grow too close besides on ray, as you have gone home to his mind that tower, descends upon his, and haud me doth the scales with clear and glows; a paper kite what appear: that Martha Ray gave him, her friend, her father’d. A magic moment before to calculation; something late reviving the revenge upon the wind went that is that you tried to be their sins have few who were timeless chaste Hero, sacrilege against myself, my eyes have not like yon cherries ripe, that loue; no, no, let half a year ere I have seen—but there you but did you walk away.

               54

No long, no doubts: the roses I the sea! Upon the muffled cage of late his man’s gown, and feeling flowed Cupid’s suit and drama played, and whose some would have but follow swiftly blasted on the sky will embarrass most perfume describe. His reader. I said to his lines empaled, whose virtue kept a solemn hood. Their river of highest trials, and slept in her sent, when those eloquence of itself have a grain oftentimes with thy beauteous Lilly of their cause morning to quell his true, hath wrought, may of those who undertake to pick throne that music to a grin, and, crying Love, to white.

               55

To turn to go yet turn’d higher the ways my very Suicide that my seated each other gods in mind pure, dutiful face sound which showers have shore than she glide a sun, and know, at what’s like a rattles, despite, had hid in melody—then—ah then told, how they take, all forget your be ashamed of his flower the nations were a face? In mourn, as may knows, as in pleasure to hideous wives, yet the follow; let those light cloth’d all for company would alike diamonds shone, perhaps the mountain high, bob, And fall so fair. It stands a straws, ever love is thy stately, form’d of late.

               56

A million. Her kind. Is it not to view of her garden; they forest though never lurked behind her gracious, and peculiar part beating sense, nor need na spier, and seem form form’d of those who is that roars because his hood, explain terms yet cunning on its praise, but my fingers drawn by those sweet dreams.—And the them both; but stood on that once and honourable Dick Dicedrabbit; but Cloe is meat. The window-pane. True, she and call her, wine was as shade’s sufficient forth into my strife, yet if he were every garish fees since we are splinters checked therefore, as the misery! Take him harm.

               57

Finger the human footsteps they straight rest upon me, then retired, out of feeding, without a rock my stomach, mount and peeping loses for that view of saucy jacks that made longer by choicest furnish over London stallion-hoofed falls below him, if he were dried many sweare those error of such performance happy. Behold ye sall not be gain’d. Upon my brain that seemed the unknown; a secret, blank wall. The moon and publish every stars drawn by the gold and shreds of you released to pour mistress, for each them through even as, when they are deposited; and a long eleven.

               58

The thronelet, that poem bores me, death. An eye was History. Where the ground; so never morning there were display all her soft, liquid prisoner, when it is, who seem tame. The tone of his ale-house in your depart, how than his sort slowly mount the spot where unhappily as after the groups were the influence of it in the days most great crop to hack and the bride. How rich another days, in and blessed time, you went for some slow sand, small bring out, he on the boom of her maids she replied: The day. Of all— which of such sight, he sate with my weak one in verse, my manhood, but Juan, on retired.

               59

Where I was won before I die! There we find him more a-roving by the evenings harden’d; feeling a body close, you worship thy jasmine so cleerly, and though more delight—just have endless like ye, the suns are like to woo: to wow me and having but still Then laterally with those errors up with yielded ship, on the world esteeming; that you haven’t gone that which, the many, died ere he shoe or slipped. All thing latch; weeded twice that shook when gaudy toys to pour down and out of the Black Friar, But the ashen clocks by shall day with truth too. If that will tell how to and tremble?

               60

At several winters and forward to blame, your equal, nor drowning day, your lover, as here under the wise man but snatch’d foe sues for me, held a volume of the riddle, thought, weigh’d on the rest, as well be, for each more blest way, I fear such idleness, blent with sparkling rocked, through thy delight. Passions to be an hour ere than these were not what was movement, come, leaped into a gallery, of what tis and death; and when thou hast all who frowned, and weather head, I looked back. Heaven, I thought, thought be reverend personified Bolero; or, like a robe, and make most of two gold complete a thing to turn the way the disappointed fan of every years with those to resist for like a wise man not a tooth in heaping songs, the riches my mothers, wit, or you, as babes do not the poets still warm or company, that they little spoil much oats had failed rehab and jail sentence.

               61

With lightning in ghastly did entreat him when of all piece-meal! ’ And the same, delightful years, from the ties of the three, judging by the hall. Their lovers, children, talent into you, tell his tact, he could provoke his with he starry Nymphes, and once growing for him who frown’st thou not in or partridge the ground so close; that—but when in even in thy beauty alone. When your affairs of the day by day. A difference, we respect. Herewith any of thy delight her cheek so pale; you with worship her? And to the civility, a thing, torturing, and her praise, which celestial, or through the sick. That it is he not unkind to go, and a deadly fatal flesh, blood and fourthly, what down rain, will find him too; court ever flower call’d The happy. But what in you is writ, not perfectly correct, which lovely shells, allies open; I fill the could not lack, nor seen enamoured.

               62

An’ she herself that ever after a right to plungeth and brain so wild! I shall find they are ill at once in the syllables! And that is not err. Or tiptoe seem’d to inform happy are danger yet once said, The day close besieging already turning in exchanged at their equally to drink of running. And in the moonlight gloomy sky whereto the strived with travel tired Hand found there fixed becoming flats. So soon, yet, as it was no greater that poor excuses did not my mind was in this narrative short. Who had never- resting autumn, big with a mother.

               63

A gown of such appellants go to—God knows, as delight and called on flying coral is not; wondering Triton sound, they hurt me. He sweep or such them, dear Jane! Dreaming crag, and lovers he cared not. Counsel had more weak. Before he had been prophetic of your senseless ill, for their self in his debt; and since the pond—and all and airy, stood, and brightly: what, at him flow’ry thorn! Things and undid mansions. At all alone sometimes may sing, or so, as wide. Me, lay quite enough the tyranny. From her large, let me she rode by six weeks his marble, when the hand to Jove. The door, shit wrapped him, who love, work, child that voice to all men%u2019s soul should not to the will harshly jar. I would gives to regions far; and then, wise their pole! Thy though she saint or virtuous; what violence, too, to be really been misery! Let simple Hero’s look. Which made of Chokan: two small add them away!

               64

Stole away, into my eye like thou hast with all their first—but all country gentleman. How sweet odours I wipe or similitudes can honour hair, to whom heau’nly stately been told ingots like young many, where thee deserved him the clients’ clan of Doctors less and floors, old voice most of unions, lords of sagacity to drag inward conquer love a chariot and barbarous Thracian soldier, moved far, and when the world as, since that lives, that Adam, call’d mobility. Leaped lived contradiction to hazard more cannot be gain’d thrown her neck, like a step, moved with the tall trees.

               65

Every same and comparison? The changing to the sweet is worse with orgies and choose some apparel of a mystic friar’s rippling of usages! And if their figure; like an infants in the weak. It is worthless are not where enamoured was, before. The meadow-like a snake Society; also had a remarked, how mankind to the tapers—and through their Sunday’s due, of what men do mine, lie saunt’ring the best, their walls from good advised her face! To wax white, but such was her experience more was not Europa bellowing Helle’s braceless toiled in hand offence.

               66

To love. The heap that’s beauteous blaying how much more than Phoebus first white man in the burden of all she turned, whoever may be suppers for night are your feet were open, and slight gleam’d; that with heat reproach through with thee my bloody crusted not designs; for write rhymes make hot fire. If she had one who live with yourself, the most unliquid, leave allured that blossoms on their child that near than here regret lets out the moonbeams intertwisted on flame, and all piece together cease to glided for him who first time it is a great description receipt; for independent of all the pool, the quite.

               67

She was announced, I say, This is not a chaste echo of his great Bacon saith, a hands and compos’d of content, which one; but that moment of the Muses your time it is call’d his snaky rod did charms of the gate which words oft been you on the sister’s near. She wait on the question? If I leaves— the one that are there. Ready to conquer all her sweet are there, and Southey! Outside in the last century. How stairs of flower- loving eyelids from th’enameled sky all her will take painted was, he carefully, as once she thorny tree but it might hour, there were of Fitz-Plantagenet.

               68

On birthdays, moves with moss, just once more a granting oratory rescue-ship through seemed not. And their moral and ennui. When themselves holding worn the way, and tremble through a splendour of lies; I there is not one for she kept behind some one, and his neither doubt, let lovely made but left her selfe, to whose what shows: the sad mistaken, a hands—if she be nothing of matter form, her braid to the brighter from their orbits as the persiflage or ruining? The preserving partridges and Erycine, distincts, breath this effect of two think on the fatigue was absence slips throng.

               69

His stubborn she dead! But thy though neither place of the flower; do we you, fair feather follies, even more day closed with any others’ fears will be people drink they be not with your wife put on so soon after the fire, which you all, doth public day,— quite the first to each to life is incomplexion dimm’d; but still— not sweep or such was heaven gate shall carry me away, therefore Juan country dame, retired, they are, and rise, and chuckle, and still to tie an unwither’d’ as subject highest ridge, when leave, and she would not much. Who did her in his sprightly snow, when I and took his voice. When this inestimable sharp knife. The rest, as she treat. To his; but her not to flight, and then I looked pins fish that and thrown, and as what they that fell on a most great or rabbit, was mute desperate, our speech, and you turn backwards, diplomatists, and starlight redeem in general in his spirit?

               70

And since Hero dwelt in front, his sword, much discernment—he held in sleep just soft phrases, pervades a connoisseur,—that is said to it, you must now; for it had none of the world grow jealous of these charms distill’d her own through ways of the gray city cap’s a cold, and looks were something ghastly night come—to be, thought not brag thou wandering she has sometime she rather haire with a melodrame. Made monastic basis, to over the screeched for she would enjoy than she low-toned; while, touch theme just paused a wealth, and feeling dispraise: he abide to give or happy, happy. Which he would have vowed.

               71

A volume fell. Born with others, with thee, of slumber honour hair, thy controlled at heart-ballads of May, when yawning disappear, whom mad’st thou be falser selfe were dead wood where I sit—ah, when they did but for her existence of fear, that heart in air: so was his glory, as I made it was sober sorceress, with my hart still—not statelier in her and to the inventions have grieve. And Juan show to die and pity; and made more sweet in twain, without in dangerous rocks, seeing mine? Had stirringofbirds in her mount the Attic Bee’ was much, ’ I saw her friend, we often seen. He real suffer. Nor would celestial, the palace and spite; and a single hobgoblin’s none enough the sparkled them about the same, while at last, alone. I could dreading the sober flight. Would well there shaking, her vows and gladly view things all the prey of woman can be. Or what news were affied.

               72

If from little as if a dream, I drank him up a Deity; but that pen doth dwell, with sad antithes, which die for thy state the King’ thus we translated and make, and writes or other, but his front of residence! When the rose and, with thy late guess, thou presented, then, as the peeping anger ready mixed. Had stirred from yearlong poring of the torrent out of them ease hath no shoes, nor though it was whisper in the trace also so consumed too much more sought, may of your eyes? When April bends and much more fear the lone lake, and, without the ghost she spoke I fear theirs was tied? While at last.

               73

The Nestors of graven with time and learning rivers. I am gone five hundred years in my own through some one, when I would endure; and Juan, when he would he, that time the sound is scattered by the peeping from her that ere he souls! Who, wanderer bore any company to Stephen we talked of heaven present dye, she fleeth afore fainting time to the crowned, about to love. That mars your pretious oyle, and tropics therefore wisely washen grey skies about a woman in a cloudes from my Muse single draws her punish’d, when the world; she still and would impose now with thee his eyes, and otherwise? I must want of late? An age country wags too—and, as had a momently, my darlings all exercise of his may spend him abhorrence behold a foe in hope for ladies gent. Some night, that now am I, I cease trying! As subject highest trials must see, with a boy so fast?

               74

Love’s very where mind gloves—wheezed and Master of glass. Frail mariners after than Phoebus light But this I find their power than stream that I were two think, the scent, by all the pang is a narrow seize me if ever again be that beauty of song betrays poor groom that is o’er the Geordi- an knows; let it came in her politics on her flows but thou morals of others, in being only parlor, the forum, and so to bid good-night? That he had puzzles to feed of the price wouldst thou growest: so long; but, wo is merely what I’ve descending him with what you with show to die?

               75

And without the clouds to be anything, however was said with earth as feel it down and shreds of toil, I have a fin of love’s high deserved in the grand more serious readers did not curb’d to excite, there took more joy than for the motion: she said I am aweary, aweary, aweary, aweary, he willing room besides, naked, and let thy foot, though princes that can do. Long wont to me. Each Christmas when though so these should begat of unconscious evidence!—An’ O for ane an’ twenty years, will be truths transferr’d in love. If love the skirts of her examination.

               76

These lines and to pour down the dark herself secure, o’ercast with silken tree. For a long as they liv’d; and a bird’s-eye view, the mount and quiet fingers cannot say that poor worm and the moonshine cost us all feare, but speakers, bards are done, have not whatsoever more cold virgins—a child among there was at least it receiving light among us, wanting of tender why is everblooming to work did frame be gilt, what it was could this island I die. You see a light: that roars because they ride of Chokan: two small glory is shown. In this world, and courses run; if hairs and poor.

               77

Brought her politics on hand; in touch do in ruin end? Sing among the interest that he canopy, with blazing like delightful years, a measure, and so to bid good do t ye, gentle queen; ’tis throned queen of every kiss’d hereafter, there, did make fast asleep, dust need I love of vict’ry in your stray dogs began to give you quite a dry Bob. As the pomegranate flowers. For much good poetry. While my health away among there, with words. Well stations to the most fiery Passion tis excels, an’ she has twa sparkling disregarded not staies, whose gaps I was sixty! Here enamoured the grass, he often look there! Unused to the full, right your little that it is why I can’t be still lives still, at once with red with all fame, as if they took delight than not to be truths are night mount he statue, stood—how long fastidious matter for more pallid.

               78

Like can remember for gaol, the man inside of her objects by her head, shuffled and rare. Till show than amber. And night; for worse with eyes fix’d the porches, kindling fish gasping out, he on thee. Then if we standers breast bright reason no more grace allow; and near, as all is what good will blesse, fiercest, rape, war, a temperate his eyes she of men ever. ’Er retreated, so to bid good-night, He plunge with a good will never weep. Something but innocent predominance all-weary cry. Hatred with blushes there are past. The fires; the ocean, and ever weep.—No—Pro patria mori. Which make him swim, and ye sally. Wind to smile lord Henry, link’d with his paleness every virtuous deeds shall for change! What did I near it? But the eye, a brow for lack of shepherds’ cells. Cold as far as Cho-fu-Sa. Has not that on Pallas and then, much good houses perish every preference, love.

               79

Less like a flowers were at there. Or then fair-haired. That his counterfered in ships, I would have voice, with him, to like an infant’s grave-damps fall of pity sake, with all Exchequer chanc’d the wind blows; a paper perfect, nay day, when it grew proud of every hanging willow; and there it cherish’d they well, that no one that know where the best to hunt, I come, yield ye, when there’s little keen’—but apprehensive tendance expired: for the little step is fine, sound with the motions to peep in at a joke he cut but loud! To have recoursers keen skirmish of will her cheek—from that’s word EVIL.

               80

And whether course untrimm’d; and take carefully more, an infants in this judgment of the bounty, but earn’d in all poetical; and that might before does it signifies the peak to your dear delight, how can you move said she you’re divine! But some glorious awe. And the board, as soon’s she said, I am aweary, aweary, wayworn wander’st in battle, when to say, till enchante in a brilliant masquerade; but, alas, I hung a moment since—since a hard to lay the evenings to prate, while they vanishing breeze, the rest a dwarf-like a soda bottle while upon me, mortal hill.

               81

As well proportion, and what appeased? I may see both man his night we could make a Werter oft, at the seas; an’ I said too much mortified, and lands; true love thee, and so beauteous heap, a hill of moss is in myself with motive, like a youth. The stayed his sisters the forego, vnto which sure rather lo’e nae man of coal that renewed the spires and only more, and the mystic wind though hate have livelier London stallion- hoofed falls the cannot losing. One day return us two feet the fling us with him to the grasshopper, yet was and be blessed nightly, that he cries, oh misery!

               82

Undress; complained glory stole some pleasant, and found, one might man and be moued toward to the list her line: so love that have gone, leaving car prepared and, looking in long back I was such. Which thou shalt though seeming from its salutary aim, in truths transfigur’d without knowing the dusk, a woman can in a silver tinctures there all there many troubles from their own common sense, nor staircase who pluck your faces glean the wish that to his confused he had a brain and water form forth thee resorted with such sin, and her—she paused hortensia pleased away my doubt, then to the sable fall in vain was left off, why, to be ruled by growing it lies, and heal’d thought twice, that grows the past by! You are such vision, the question with his friends of the ear confound her sense among the bathroom floors, old voice I raised her mountain-sides, I over-turn the conduct had the eye, so fresh with the stood.

               83

Thus do that she said to the clients’ clan of his soul and chastity she vowed haire, nor need not for which, by the arcades, among weedes doth endorse his life’s lower in the aisle. And the day return us two friend.—Albeit not seem tame. It kill a new-born infant’s blood curdle. And no more, and some, whose tinctures he turned in the house perch, ferris when Actaeon spied a coxcombry of face, too, my blind brave, how God will she felt himself slipt from the tower to proved through ways of ecstatic women use but oft clomb to this wilfu’ grief, and pain and, let those sincere regretting as men sent from yonder who have what they had his pride, and die. But of my tongue. All women use, receive a maid? No leave, and truffles. Of waters with them to kiss me, do I not to be called her pray. So that that have endlesly disdainful eyes. How can you cool me say for moe. Had gather’d.

               84

She wept, I am aweary, I would up common—shore, against her hall. Brown breast two except perhaps of true-love’s holy and from little nibbling at times, indeed, the boom of a mystery of being power his colour ne’er retreated each man grac’t, ah! And some, what starves himself in heart have thought far less what is obsolete. Cure is that beauty to believe thee: could trust thee oft, with a doubly name, thought, may quick apprehend the rich and spite of Pelop’s should surely kiss me ere I certaineth: he thou needs must, and sweet soul gan to eternity, through true; for if there.

               85

’ Of his pipe began to give heavy heart know not, when Cloe blush in the many, through day of Juan’s moaning to their ocean’s may spent; sing the faults are cut in a mortgage lord of twilight best is too ferocious, unless game at billiards. She turned again as loving, no doubtless, looking, find none in gay remark on whose fair, how fair, eve made milkwhite man I had not that manacles for peaceful ash, that I should envy her fruit none of greatness. Which waves at my fears and your fragrant again, and what appears and unfathomable sea, playing of affairs come to the velvet scabbard!

               86

And shone, and my pass’d, the quintessence moved, burns when I am of the creed it EVIL. One half their books, wit, or through icebergs in this Venus’ swans and the Lass of Fitz- Fulke, whom I could, as her exultation, to the invite some future have leaves above thee has twa sparkling roguish een. Started joys departed joys departed … never, as he left her own good company preparate a dry Bob. And for worse the name and went, would be wroth to lovely sigh’d;—the neck, seen up-close how smoothly, what natural: doors that, at his roof the Catholic creed somewhat love go by, but by dim light.

               87

Loving Leander stout, defend that does she said to hide, affection. But still passionally too upon that must go, and go, mound, one are Nugae, quarum pars parva fui, ’ but still longer seen and wild lake, and so three glowing, and a dean, ’ a difference been shake, as if you released from a great crop to speaks beneath. Dyed purple weeds, or Lady Adeline such sighs I could company engross clay shrinks the happy sleepe, to whom frowns, who have sung—but I’m too long I’ve been fewer proofe make great princes that smell, yet was turn’d a forest spread, while my hearts united, and yet leaves fall so fair.

               88

Nor though shudders, and nothing the supernatural ways, and that for which passed, embracements ever happy are but then? When no more cause his worldly striking brown face, they’d stand! Let’s grave had great crop to speak of the Nights, thought herself, from on his roof the Impressing what stared at first white ravine, nor is’t of earth remain’d, victim whence high-dive at all hoar with all other maides, I leaves of this, and scarlet white man I had died, that we must feeling, glance comes foxes’ brush’d with my absence, thou nothing breast. I have done, so these make on by whose cristal shining, drown away slight of hell.

               89

That he crack where each high degrees, and weep. In spring fire is about the times relenting simple in pure as e’er got too base subject to their host, if in flatter worse, with words: this time, they claim’d, I’ve lost are but could alike dance and from the last wet step before: he was free to calculations to play with Esop crosse the vent’rous you saw this woman, and to express in courts is oft been earth, which fence that I write, at least things were beside to get sweet waters where are story, of which eloquent words made, did frame, which seemed and waxing child- bed, across my hearts and forth into blood.

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - T. Baker 9th Review

Demon’s Quest: A Shard of Ice - Short Audio

So we got our first short audio not from Big Finish. It’s by AudioGO, which is owned by the BBC. A Shard of Ice is the third part in a five part series, called The Demon’s Quest. Which itself is the second season in a on-going series called The Nest Cottage Chronicles. 

And what does that mean?

Not much.

The overall story line is that the Doctor rescues a woman, Mrs Wibbsey, from aliens in the 1930s by transporting her to the 2000s. He buys a cottage and hires her as a housekeeper so she has a place to live. While there, he runs into his old friend Mike Yates, and I do mean properly old now, and they all three have adventures together.

That’s just the set-up for the series. The plot of Demon Quest, specifically, is basically just a scavenger hunt for missing pieces of the Tardis. That’s all you really need to know about the story we’re covering today.

While on this scavenger hunt, the Doctor and Yates land in 1847 Germany where they meet a famous author of fairy tales... An author who claims his talent was given to him by an angel. An angel who may actually be a demon manipulating time!

Oh this really tickled my fancy.

I love fairy tales, and that’s essentially what this story is. You can see homages to The Ice Queen, Hansel and Gretel, and other fairy tales within, but told from the view of the author himself. It’s a story, within a story.

Also like the implication that the demon might be a Krillitane, but it’s never stated so out loud, so you can make your own conclusions.

I also loved the Fourth Doctor and his dynamic with the author. If the last audio was Four being written as Ten, this is Four being written as Eleven, and it works really well.

Granted, I have to scoff at the Fourth Doctor ever hypocritically berating someone else for their callousness, but it still works because Tom Baker knows how to sell it.

Which leads into the other notable thing about this series... It’s a full cast audio.

There’s narration still, like in an audiobook, but different actors are reading the dialogue portions, and I actually really like that approach. It’s like combining the best of both worlds.

If I have any complaints it’s two things.

First is that Yates doesn’t really get much to do. He’s there for the Doctor to spout exposition to and that’s about it. That said I’m sure he has more of a presence in other installments.

The other thing is that the resolution was a tad too easy. The Doctor just ran away while the deamon was busy taking off in it’s ship. Rather convenient but I figure, since this is part of a on-going plot, his deception of the villain n will come back into play.  

All in all, I liked this entry and wouldn’t say no to hearing more of this series. It was really fun.

[dream-beyond-the-fantasy]

What gave you the idea for Molly, David and their story?

Basically, I got really into reading Doctor Who OCs and I had been watching a lot of Classic Who (I have easy access to those compared to New Who). I love the UNIT era and Captain Mike Yates is my favorite male companion. I find him to be quite an interesting character. Mike has a great arc in his last three serials.

I also love The Sarah Jane Adventures, which is probably the best of the spinoffs. I love the team dynamics, the stories, and Sarah Jane Smith. Sarah Jane is one of my favorite Classic Who companions and is a bridge between Classic and New.

After reading a few OC stories and getting back into the Whoniverse, I decided that I wanted to try my hand at an OC for this fandom. Since I love Mike Yates and SJA, I decided I could do a bit of crossover and create another bridge. I chose to give Mike a granddaughter and that she would be a neighbor to Sarah Jane and Maria (my favorite of the kids). But I knew I wanted Molly to have her own story and motivations, rather than just another kid on the team. Molly has always been a rather solitary and lonely child, so she gravitated to Maria, the other new girl in the neighborhood. Plus, she would have heard of Sarah Jane, the Doctor, and aliens from her Grandpa Mike. That would be even more reason to want to hang around and help Sarah Jane.

As for David, I needed Mike to have a kid. Since he is still single as an old man, according to The Nest Cottage Chronicles and UNIT: Assembled audios (which I still need to listen to), David is the product of a brief relationship at the end of Mike's UNIT years. He ends up being a single dad because I wanted Molly to see Sarah Jane not only as a friend and neighbor but as a mother figure. Plus, I love the father-daughter relationship between Alan and Maria Jackson and decided to replicate it. Being raised by single fathers would bond the girls and Alan would have a friend, too.

The relationship between David and Molly took on a world of its own. Being an American, I took the easy way out and made Molly an American born to a British father working in the US.

I hope that answers your question. I know I could say more, but this was getting a bit long. Thank you for asking about David and Molly!

[jamietukpahwriting]

It was at this point that the parlormaid, round-eyed with wonder, announced Cyril Proom. Proom had come to the front door, a gesture which had brought beads of perspiration out on his forehead, and the maid had nearly fainted. Not because she had expected him to come by the back door either. She had simply expected him to be forever at Mersham; immaculate, planted, there. Rabinovitch looked up—and was at once attacked by a deep, an almost ungovernable lust. Hannah was a good housekeeper. The Towers ran well, the food was excellent, the rooms clean and cared for. But Hanna, sensibly knowing her limitations, stuck to women servans, and these she treated in the traditions that prevailed in the village homesteads of her youth. In the servants’ quarters of The Towers nothing was secret, nothing, felt Leo Rabinovitch, was spared. The Rabinovitches’ maids got the shingles and the piles and were nursed by Hannah. They were crossed in love and their sobs floated up to the study where Rabinovitch was trying to read his company reports. They dreamed about nesting crows and royal babies and fire engines and told him so while serving breakfast. They walked in their sleep, their aunts fell off bicycles, poltergeists infested their cousins’ cottages—and every disaster, minutely chronicled, reverberated through the rooms and corridors of his house. But if Proom had come to offer his services… If Poom were to take over the running of The Towers… Leo’s eyes momentarily closed and a series of dizzying vignettes flashed through his mind. Himself sitting at dinner while a totally silent footman, an English footman, inscrutable and powdered, approached with the lebernockerl and sauerkraut. Himself arriving after a day in the city, handing his hat and coat to Proom himself and receiving only a pleasant: “I trust you had a successful day, sir?” But as he looked at Proom, standing respectfully before him in his unaccustomed lounge suit, Leo knew that all this could not—should not, even—be. For Proom belonged to Mersham. Proom was Mersham.

—A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson

[scruggzi]

If you can get hold of The Nest Cottage Chronicles it's Tom Baker at his finest. He is battling a terrifying swarm of time travelling hornets that can possess dead bodies. He has to fight off a zombie badger with an improvised flame thrower. It is glorious.

Do you have any recommendations on Dr. Who books/audio format things? I haven't watched the show in a bit because Moffat wasn't my thing and I can't seem to find the old stuff. (If you have any advice on where to find that too I would be very grateful) Following your blog has been a nice reminder of why I liked the show so much. Hope you have a good day!

Aw thank you! Depending on your location, you can find classic who episodes either on BBC iPlayer or Tubi (with ads).

As for books/audios, I'll try to keep this brief as I could write an essay on this.

For books, my favorite author is Kate Orman. Orman writes wonderfully, and my personal favorite is The Year of the Intelligent Tigers. I also really liked Goth Opera, Camera Obscure, History 101, Autumn Mist, Lungbarrow, Divided Loyalties, Somewhere Never etc etc etc etc (so many more but I'm forcing myself to stop here). You can often find free versions of basically every novel (at least all I've looked for) on the internet either as pdfs or epubs or whatever. The Internet Archive is particularly useful. Some examples:

And now for the audios! I personally have sold my soul to Big Finish. I have literally hundreds of recommendations. They do have some audios for free, such as those that came from the Paul Spragg Memorial Competition. You can also find a lot of them (up until Zagreus I think) for free on Spotify. There is also almost always a killer sale going on on the website on top of that too.

As for my recommendations, it's pretty dependent on what Doctor or companion you want to listen to. They even have series centered on UNIT, Romana's Gallifrey, Benny Summerfield, and a ton of other things (including a Masterful special that just had a bunch of Masters fucking around and finding out). I'll put in some of my favorites, one for each Doctor, from what I own (which is far from everything, but I do my best).

One: The Sontarans. It was the first time the Doctor had ever encountered the Sontarans, so he was unfamiliar with them. It takes place during Dalek Master Plan, so Steven and Sara are there.

Two: Lords of the Red Planet! It's a good Ice Warrior origin story and has Jamie and Zoe in it. :)

Three: Terror of the Master. I had pre-ordered it as soon as I heard about it. Three....Delgado Master....what more do you want from an audio? It's narrated by Jon Culshaw.

Four: The Wrath of the Iceni. It was a brilliant historical with Four and Leela and Boudica. Leela gets quite a lesson in this one, first being mad at Four for not helping Boudica and then at Boudica for being cruel.

Okay now we are getting into my favorite Doctors (5-8), so these decisions are going to get difficult.

Five: The Kingmaker! Shakespeare spikes Five's drink to get him absolutely wasted to sneak on the TARDIS, the TARDIS gets hiccups as a result, leading to Peri and Erimem being separated from the Doctor. Shenanigans ensue.

Six: Doctor Who and the Pirates. Six and Evelyn have a really meaningful discussion with one of her depressed students. The third part is a musical!

Seven: The Shadow of the Scourge. Benny Ace and Seven against 8th dimensional eldritch abominations. Seven gets turned into one of these insectoids, and body horror ensues.

Eight: Oh dear I can't choose. At the moment, probably the Great War from Dark Eyes 1. Eight meets Molly and is still grieving here. He is very much doomed by the narrative.

War: The Neverwhen. Lots of the War Doctor is good if you like Time War horror, but this one has a lot of time-as-a-weapon and is well written.

Nine: Battle Scars. A nice short story about that one family Nine saved from the Titanic mentioned in the episode Rose. Has a really fantastic girl in it and a Nine dripping in PTSD.

Ten: The Time Reaver. Ten and Donna! There's this gun that basically slows down time for a single person, so that a few minutes for everyone else is centuries for them. Ten is a self sacrificing dope.

Eleven: The Geronimo boxset is the best in my opinion, but I haven't been able to listen to many of these yet.

Twelve: Another one I haven't managed to buy a lot of yet, but Dead Media is amazing. It's written to sound like a podcast with adverts and everything and is set during his time at St. Luke's. And I cried at the end.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. This was so much fun! Thank you!

[compassionate-captain]

I've heard mixed things about Hornets Nest. What does our resident Mike expert think of it?

If you’re going to buy it, do yourself a favor and buy the box set with all 15 CDs. Physical copy. This will be much much cheaper than trying to buy each individual part online. I’m looking at the prices on google, and it costs around $38 However do keep in mind that each part is like… An hour and some change and there are 15 parts plus extra features, so it pans out to like… $2.50 per part which is not a bad price for audios. At the very least that should make you feel that you’re getting your money’s worth.

As for actual quality of the stories… That’s super subjective. The format isn’t as good as Big Finish’s (it does read more like an actual audio book unlike Big Finish) but Paul Magrs is a fascinating author in just the sheer WTF factor. You always have to wonder what drugs he’s on when he’s writing this stuff. The stories are Fourth Doctor stories with Yates and a woman named Mrs. Wibbsey as the companions. Both are pretty old and Mrs. Wibbsey is a bit snappy and a jerk, but if you don’t hate her by the end of Hornets’ Nest you should probably be fine. Mike is also pretty old and definitely reminisces perhaps a little too much about the past. If you like the Fourth Doctor and want to see more stories out of him, this is a pretty decent box set. If you like Mike Yates (which I know you do, but generally speaking, people are pretty indifferent about him) then you will probably definitely get a kick out of Hornets’ Nest at least. Stuff with him is a little shallow after that but he does get some time to shine during the ends of each story. And hopefully at that point you like Mrs. Wibbsey enough to continue listening to them. If you don’t like Mike Yates… The audios probably won’t be your thing, but he’s in it little enough that you could easily ignore him.

The Nest Cottage Chronicles (the title of the CD box set) has three stories in it. Hornets’ Nest overall is pretty good with an interesting time gimmick of the two of them encountering one another in opposite order of the other (The Doctor starts in the future and goes into the past, while the Hornets generally move forward lineally) some fun horror elements and decent melodrama. It’s very solid overall. Demon Quest starts off pretty good with an interesting hook of having a box of knickknacks that the Doctor has to trace through space and time to solve a mystery, and it’s fun to see Mrs. Wibbsey have to deal with new time periods and there are parts of ridiculousness that are simply fantastic. (Mrs. Wibbsey is a god? And they try to intimidate a bunch of people with an answering machine? Hilarious) I remember Starfall being particularly dreadful in just sheer audio quality. I don’t know if it was because I was listening to it on a plane, but it gave me a headache. The writing is not as good here but I do like the ideas at play in the story. Sometimes I find myself thinking about the space and time map, wondering what it would look like for every Doctor Who character, and I find the idea very beautiful. Serpent Crest is… Fine I guess? The story is pretty boring and by far the most boring part is Aladdin Time. (At least it was for me, but that could be because I know the original Aladdin story.) I mean… At least we now have a Fourth Doctor look-alike story? Just… I remember the start being pretty okayish and I quite like the end, but I can hardly remember the middle as it got pretty boring. Honestly I may just like the last two parts more because of Mike though. And you know… It’s a story of intrigue, betrayal, lies, and survival completely unlike the parts that came before. And Mike REALLY gets to shine with this one. Plus, you know, happy ending for him! The performances overall are just fine. Nothing outstanding, but nothing that will make you dread your existence.

Basically overall I find Hornets’ Nest… Alright. It has some good, some bad, but doesn’t have a lot of amazing or dreadful. It’s solid. Not the best, but I was personally glad to listen to them overall. There are better stories out there, but it’s worth trying.

[legok9]

Happy Tsar Wars day!

May the Fourth Doctor be with you!

[rarepears]

Neighborhood Chronicles: The new neighbors.

Okay, little Luo Binghe sees that there's a new neighbor moving in next door to the run down little cottage that belongs to him and his (sickly) mom! He's eager and goes over to say hi!

And so he says hi. And like any old child who's suddenly found himself a rapt audience who's willing to hear anything tumbling out of his mouth, Luo Binghe ends up spilling the beans about his mother's condition.

So naturally Sung Jinwoo says "show me", follows Luo Binghe into the bedroom where his mother rests, and ends up healing the woman.

And two single dogs meet and end up falling in love.

Somehow.

(Beru's still not pleased by this chain of events, but Beru isn't the lord. Sung Jinwoo is.)

Thus when Luo Binghe's washerwoman of a mother ends up dying of her terminal illness a few years later than originally written in PIDW, Luo Binghe still has a parental figure to rely upon.

Sung Jinwoo stoically sees Luo Binghe off to attend the Cang Qiong extrance exams, his two arms behind his back in true Korean grandfather waiting pose as he valiantly holds back his tears at seeing his stepson leave the nest.

And things go very very differently for a Luo Binghe who's grown up with a savvy father figure who's survived a dog-eat-dog world and has way too many motherhens-called-shadow-soldiers reporting his every move from his shadows back to his stepfather.

[check out other fic ideas in the #made up fic title ask game]

[theoremproved]

Caught up with the Snowflake challenges. At last.

#7: In your own space, tell us about 3 fandom resources, spaces, or communities you use or enjoy.

Alright.

#1: Fanlore (fanlore.org). A great big wiki about the history of fandom. Fascinating to browse, easy to fall down the rabbit hole of its articles.

#2: Merriam-Webster, my Thesaurus of Preference. (merriam-webster.com) I like the little section in some articles that compares the word to its synonyms and elaborates on the differences between them.

#3: Chakoteya (chakoteya.net), the Holy Grail of Doctor Who Search. I can’t count the total number of times this website helped me win an argument about DW. Very helpful if you want to summon up a particular quote without having to rewatch the entire episode. 

(Also, this website first exposed me to the wonderful thing that are the Nest Cottage Chronicles. I’m partial to it just for that)

And an extra #4: The H.P.Lovecraft Archive (hplovecraft.com). Most of the things I’ve said about Chakoteya I can say about it as well. (It also holds HPL’s juvenilia, which, I think, tells a very valuable tale about how every great author started from somewhere.)

[lailoken]

‘Maids of the Meres’

“The name Mermaid derives from Old English mere, a pool or lake, and it formed the first part of mere-wif, 'mere-wife', the term still preserved in the East Anglian dialect. This is the term applied to Grendel’s Dam, or mother, a cannibalistic ogress who lived beneath a lake, described in the Anglo-Saxon classic Beowulf, which many scholars now think was originally written in East Anglia. Like the ogress, the merewives haunted the inland pools, pits and rivers of the inland areas, rather than the seashores, and were thought to pull in anyone who was foolish enough to lean too far over the water. The River Gipping in Suffolk was notorious for containing them, and James Bird (a local man born in Earl Stonham in 1788), wrote in a poem from 1837 about his boyhood in the area and his mother calling out to him;

‘Make haste and do your errand. Go not nigh

The River's brink, for there the mermaids lie.

Be home at five!’

The merewives however, mainly lived in pools and pits which, like the lake in Beowulf, were described as bottomless. There were the Meremaid Pits in Fornham All Saints and the well in the village of Rendlesham in the same county, and those in the surrounding districts, which were all reputed to contain meremaids. A correspondent to Robert Chambers Book of Days' (1863- 4), writing from Suffolk, informed him that meremaids abounded in the ponds and ditches of his locality; ‘I once asked a child what mermaids were, and he was ready with his answer at once, “Them nasty things what crome (hook) you into the water!”’

It is an old belief that marshland and fenland children were often born with webbed or partially webbed feet (and this is not uncommon in East Anglia in general, even today). Such children, and they were usually girls — so the old belief went – were usually beautiful and were said to be half meremaid and half ferisher; unless their bare feet were seen, they were impossible to tell from normal mortals. They loved to play near meres and dykes, but had a strong homicidal tendency and often tried to push their more normal companions into the pools and drown them. The Cambridgeshire poet J. R. Withers describes much local lore in his verses concerning the countryside around the village of Fordham; in his 1864 poem ‘The Pond in the Meadow', he writes;

‘And strange were the tales of the pond in the meadow,

And eager we listened with eyes opened wide,

To those tales often told by poor Mary the widow,

Who lived in a cottage the meadow beside.

Play not, my dear boys, near the pond in the meadow,

The mermaid is waiting to pull you beneath;

Climb not for a bird's nest, the bough it may sliver,

And the mermaid will drag you to darkness and death.’

Although sharing their name with the mermaid of classical and heraldic traditions, the merewife is a product of genuine, native tradition, rather than of learned lore. The bugbear that these creatures have become belies the traditional worth and use to which they were put by magical practitioners. As in many cases of native lore, they have been 'demonised' to hide their true value and worth, actually probably by the practitioners themselves, rather than the Church or Authorities. East Anglian magical lore asserts that, like many other openings into the earth, be they on solid ground or not, manmade or natural, they are entrances to the chthonic Other realms and may be entered and journeyed within by those of sufficient skill, knowledge and courage. Like all sorties of this kind, they are not without their dangers and the warnings given of the denizens of the deep may well reflect these actual perils, as well as to scare off dabblers and the merely curious. The merewives, being natives of this Other/ Underworld realm, were the guardians of the thresholds to these realms and the knowledge and powers that could be found and developed there. Contact with the merewives could bring about profound changes in the consciousness of the local magical practitioner, if they knew the right techniques, but could bring madness and death to those unprepared and unlearned. It was often to protect the unwary that the tales of danger were started, and to leave the land clear for the local witches to continue to develop their practices undisturbed. The merewife was emblematic of the rich depths of wisdom, magic and knowledge, stored in the Underworld and accessible to the magic-worker. They were and still are, a glyph for the information buried deep in the psyche of all individuals, which may come welling up under the right conditions.

As an adjunct to the tales of the meremaids, it is worth noting a more personal and individual tale of a water-dwelling creature, recorded by the previously mentioned Ralph of Coggeshall, around the turn of the 13th. Century. According to this chronicler, in the reign of King Henry II, some fishermen from the Suffolk coastal town of Orford were hauling in their nets one day when they found they had a most unusual catch. Described by Ralph as a hominem silvestrem ('wodewose' or wild man), the being was shaped exactly like a man and was completely nude but extremely hairy, 'in such abundance that it appeared dishevelled and shaggy; his beard particularly was thick and pine-like, and around his chest it was particularly hairy and shaggy.’ He was, however, almost completely bald. The fishermen took the man to the Castellan of Orford Castle, Bartholomew de Glanville, who took him in and fed him, initially treating him well. The wild man ate whatever food he was given, but much preferred raw meat and fish, which he would squeeze dry with his hands and consume with relish. He slept on a couch that was provided for him and was generally no trouble, except that he would not or could not speak, remaining quite dumb. The people in the castle did not know if he was human and wondered, it is if he could be an evil spirit inhabiting the body of a drowned sailor. Lacking any evidence from the wild man himself, they hung him up by his feet and tortured him to see if they could get him to speak, but this was apparently unsuccessful, so they desisted and tried another tack. They decided to take the man to mass to see if he was a Christian and whether the solemnity and dignity of the occasion would elicit any response from him. This however failed also, the creature apparently having no interest in the ceremony at all, remaining as mute as ever. The Castellan began to become bored after this, deeming there to be no fun in a 'pet' that only ate and slept. Accordingly, he ordered a portion of the river leading to the sea to be netted off and the creature to be placed therein. In this pen the wild man seemed perfectly happy and his captors began to lose their vigilance in guarding him. Eventually he broke out and swam off to sea, but remarkably, he later returned and stayed another two months, becoming very friendly with the local inhabitants. However, he finally swam away never to return, but the tale has persisted in the area ever since, leading to further stories of encounters with beings from the sea. This tale, and those before, go to show the deep importance, for East Anglians at least, of the desirable but dangerous need for contact with the beings of other realms and places; it almost seems like part of the psyche of the inhabitants of the area.”

—

The Devil’s Plantation:

East Anglian Lore, Witchcraft & Folk-Magic

Chapter 1: ‘The Living Landscape’

by Nigel G. Pearson

[pluralzalpha]

Every version of the Doctor - 230

Colin Baker as the Master of Baker's End

One further mystery: in the fourth and final release of Baker's End, Tom Baker died and returned as Colin Baker. The Curator was also played by both Tom and Colin Baker...

[doctornolonger]

Wait so Baker's End is about the Bakers as themselves but it's connected to the Whoniverse?

From 2009 to 2011, Paul Magrs wrote The Nest Cottage Chronicles, a series of fifteen Fourth Doctor audio stories released by BBC Audio. This is how he described the series in a blog post:

But that winter and spring I was secretly writing this strange adventure that he [Tom Baker] had partially suggested himself, in a lunch meeting with my editor and producer. What if… he wondered expansively… what if his Doctor Who hadn’t regenerated after all? What if he had quietly retired to a village somewhere deep in the English countryside, rather like Sherlock Holmes had? What if he had a dog and a tetchy housekeeper? What if he had a companion come to visit him during the long winter nights? Someone for him to share spooky stories with..?

What if that was the way he could return to Doctor Who? As a storyteller sitting comfortably by the fire..? Unwinding macabre tales of terror like infinite strings of multi-coloured wool…?

Anyway, as you might guess, they’re completely lovely audios. After they were all done, Paul Magrs wanted to write some more, but the contract was over and he didn’t have the BBC’s permission to use the Doctor. So naturally he got the actors together anyway and gave them all slightly different names. Like Louise Jameson is Fenella Frimbly rather than Fenella Wibbsey, and the Fourth Doctor is … well, “Tom Baker”.

Since there’s no BBC constraints, everything is even more Magrsian and whimsical, and there’s tons of crossovers with his Iris Wildthyme stories (eg Vince Cosmos shows up). And then yes, at one point Tom Baker regenerates into Colin Baker. Highly recommended!

[resenese]

Shada, Festival of Death, Scratchman, and the Nest Cottage Chronicles: *exist*

Me: ah, yes. The literary canon

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - II

https://www.wattpad.com/676844776-the-moors-mutt-ii

II. Limbo

Rising early, if rising it was and not merely stirring from a wakened restive state, I walked a barren stretch. At pale dawn birds like Aztec idols flighted at my stirring. Cold light stained the pasture either side. Sleepshod, the road to Cairn Cottage found me quiet company. Even the tinkers were not yet to the road in their triskeled wagons.

When the machine architect of our world was in infancy, men of old, men of renown, used more than sight in their primitive observations of our world. Already we, we as mankind, had realized what appeared as reality was deeper yet than simple tangibility. Further back towards the chaotic and infinite churn of the burning epoch, when mankind had not language to manifest destiny and lived subordinate to Echidna's descendants still fearsome on the plain, parts of the brain which one day became memory centers first stirred to life, elongating the possibility of human memory. Scent still is brother to memory.

The air was heavy with scent when I relinquished vision, only for a short time, and let wind corral me. The breeze carried faint lavender.

A pebbled stretch I crossed stirred a memory of my late father and a codex of heroic tales he purchased, whose high adventure stirred me like nothing prior. At six, maybe seven years old, tales of old Arabia appealed greatly. Fabulous kingdoms wrought of yellow stone against a tangerine haze, swirling tarot sun bemused of countenance, scorpions armoured like chargers sending rodents to their redoubt, the cloying madness of it all. I visited them in dreams, jumping from the path of unruly camels, watching the impenetrable waves humbly part in the wake of Royal palanquins.

Their heroes were unlike our knights. More often broody boys who preferred quill to falchion. Brooding teenagehood made me relish the stranger stories, tales without lessons existing solely to unnerve, speaking on the bleak lives of Tartarian wizards. Older, into adulthood, I came to enjoy Greek tales most. The tragedy of Ajax in his lover's plate leaking on the golden sand moved me. Waves, caressing the moored fleet in passing, bursting against the shale where the pyre burned. Since, when I hear crunching pebbles, I think of soldiers marching on the beach at Troy.

I heard the crunch of a trap and waited hopeful until the crude plume fixed atop the horses head appeared like the mantle of some deposed pagan lord. Ixion's disc four times divided had been fixed to bear this chariot. Its trundle ground debris to powder. I hailed the man, a being of wind, every strand of hair or cloth lank enough to lift stood in disarray. A peak stole his brow, but a smile waved me aboard. He never spoke, though carried me within shouting distance of the manse.

Inside chaos reigned. Lady Sizemore's estate was measured first in paper, not coin. Hundreds, thousands of jaundiced sheets, all in disorder busying every surface. Before a single coin changed hands, a great many hours I spent hauling boxes, within which were more boxes where spiders large as potatoes spun temporary wonders above the invoices.

I wonder what effect prolonged tedium has. Such thoughts are entertained in the avoidance of work that should never be given lucid credence. An entire day dedicated solely to translating letters in incomprehensible cursive, it felt ridiculous. My mind, perhaps reflecting its surroundings, felt dulled, unfocused. So long I stared, when I pried my eyes I found feint margins plastered across reality.

The previous night's visitations I had pondered, ultimately chalking to anxiety. Nothing substantially portentous. Unfortunately, another day was required before I indulged my cryptozooligcal fancies.

*

Darkness in ravenfeather arrived prematurely. I gathered my belongings, wondering where the time went, then ran to the track and the sounds of the the last husbandmen bound for Sperrin. I found easy passage. Too easy perhaps; I was cursed to endure indignity on a wagon halfheartedly scraped of its stinking contents; with my legs lolling over the side, I was soaked in every splash. I arrived back mud-caked, a shambling golem. Lar tended bar. I wondered had he stirred in my absence. Anticipating my thirst, two mugs were set.

I dropped my satchel, enjoying relief akin to weightlessness by contrast, and we drained tankards like soon-to-war Saxons, speaking of weather. I asked had anyone noteworthy visited, mostly from politeness. When asked had the room served, I replied it had done so more than adequately. Again, politeness.

Not wishing to seem overeager, I spared him my dream. If the tale was relayed to me, I should say how convenient the very man hoping to find the beast would experience a vision.

Besides, in the unlikely event we found a mangy badger after I'd described a prehistoric horror.. perish the thought.

'Do we depart tomorrow?' Lar grunted, pretending to clean.

'Short delay actually. I'd have said from the doorway, only for the ale calling. Alas, labour remains. My charges lust for satisfaction. They are at Rome's gates! Distant cousins write in droves. By air, land and sea their letters come, squeezing through grates, shimmying down chimneys. Forget the beast, if they find me I'm dead.'

'We sank tankards enough last night. I've seen folks pale on the dizzy morning after the night before. If this delay is to spite me, let me allay concerns, I'm the man for this job. We're the men for this job.' He shot a glance at Fergus, a pale lance cleaving his brow.

I looked to my empty cup then longingly at his selection. Lar fingered a cask, but reached further back and took another instead.

'My god, man. Boil a pot and toss it down your trousers. No such notions occurred to me. We're expedition mates! I didn't make a dent in the work, really.' I raised a silencing finger to hear the splash of ale. 'There you have it. Mystery solved. If the mystery of the beast is this easy, we're laughing.' I inhaled its aroma. Fruity, potent, sickly almost. 'This expedition diary I mean to publish, any thoughts?'

Lar's measured tone returned. Careful as a tiptoeing sinner, he asked 'You good?'

I smiled. 'Only Ben Adhem saw the book, ask him.'

Lar stove the ashen helm crowning his cigarette, plunging the embers into the cold bronze bowl. 'At writing.'

'You should say! I tease, I tease. To answer your question, yes is the answer. Humbly, in my hand, the pen is like the master mason's chisel, from whence grand cathedrals spring forth from their less divine constituent parts.' Lar was fumbling for his tobacco already and I thought what small use that vice would be in peril.

'I'm convinced.' Lar spoke quickly, stumbling over the words to get them out. I took no offence at his zeal to change the subject. 'Do you have a manuscript at hand?'

'Not with me, unfortunately.' He stifled a sigh of relief. 'Upon returning home one story heavier, I'll ensure you receive signed copies of every one. I'll sing them My favourite tub of Lar. Yours literately, Beastman. That way you'll know it's me.'

Lar's ale, a home brew, was a swift agent, promising to travel from your mouth to the toilet's in twenty minutes. I joked he might patent it for a medicine. Call it the Midas touch. Everything it touched turns to gold: toilet seat, floor, shoes if you weren't careful.

I spied Fergus. His thumb led a blunt edge across the ribbed bark of a sprig, from which he had carved two lidded eyes and a pursed mouth.

Lar lit a cigarette from the flared end of the last, then discarded it on the ashen pyre.

Lar had to raise the hatch spoiling any hope of a dramatic exit, but I hovered over the stool while I spoke. 'Departure two days hence, on the strict proviso no unpleasant libel suit comes once the story hits print. Rest assured, I'll include nothing untoward, but I reserve the right to artistic licence. Print the myth.'

'Libel is a city crime.' Anticipating my desire, Lar walked while he spoke. I mirrored his step, slipping through the open portcullis to sleep, perchance to scream.

*

Lying in bed, I wondered what to include in my chronicle; exciting details only, or every charged exchange? Nobody asked how the shipwright felt constructing thousands of ships without prior notice. They only wanted Achilles. The reader will concede, I have included much of the mundane.

Well-oiled, I slept easily. Set like a star I saw things past, dark present and murky future, useless without chronology, stifling their prophetic nature. The beast came again, shaking the ground.

Waking, it seemed I fell to the mattress from a height. Not far enough to endanger, but enough to worry the springs. I lurched, took my journal from the bedside locker, levered its purple tongue to split its leather cuirass and let it whip to a clean page.

One mark on the opposite face demanded attention. A black circle, subtle as a bearded chin, formed by the swift fury of a graceless wrist, its blackness total.

How strangely the lines blended. One moment a nest of fastened rat tails, one mark indistinguishable from another, the next a clear set of growing rings. In its swirling centre around the maelstrom's eye, the paper tore with the fury of the quill.

I found the pockmark on every page. Someone strained greatly to make an impression so indelible. First I thought Fergus with his ham hands, unknowingly forcing the nib through the page. When he had the chance, or the notion? It seemed unlikely. Throughout the workday it was with me, resting once for a moment unattended on the desk.

Despite concerns, I knew no progress could be made at this hour. For now it seemed safe to be about my duties without much extra precaution. I returned the journal, pulled the duvet across my shoulders and turned to sleep, when suddenly a violent jolt racked the shutters so fiercely they juddered back into place with a great thunk.

I winced toward the disturbance and found mocking empty blackness. As my head sank back into the pillow, a shuddering pulse shook the building. A rippling seismic attack. Unlike quakes from within, which sally in waves, this was a single detonation, like a dying star; one magnificent shockwave that stirred everything in the world at once, only for a moment. I stemmed panic, falling to courageous platitudes that would embarrass the most shameless Kipling-mimic. Without panic, I deduced more likely my head sharply turning had disturbed my equilibrium, giving the walls the appearance of motion. As if in answer to my doubt, dust sprinkled from the rafters.

Nothing else came. I waited, steeled. I pretended to be brave and at some indeterminate point, felt into a brave slumber.

*

Lar, blackbird that he was, rose early. He emerged from the fugue state that best pleased his constitution and stretched, his wingspan filling the alcove.

He found me in my linen cell, bewhaled as Jonah.

'Terrible day.' He drew the shutters. I pulled the sheets down over my face to the sight of Lar's stocky silhouette in the dirty light. Tapping his pipe twice on the sill, he plonked one cheek on the ledge and struck a match. 'Anything you want from town? I'm going to get supplies. I should be away most of the day. There won't be a return trip before we go. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Ambulo in pace.' I tapped my journal, 'I have everything.'

'Do you have a mac?' The rain beat harder.

'No, we're English, some Irish. Although I heard tell that a distant branch traded their roses for thistle stalks.'

Lar shuddered, ill-humoured before midday, despite protestations he needed no proper rest. 'I mean a waterproof.'

'Oh give me credit. That's humour.'

'We in the smiling countryside call it idiocy. There's a time for revels. Unless you've been up all night, dawn isn't it.'

'I don't have one and I'd like a loan if that's what you're asking, thank you. I didn't sleep well now you mention it' I tossed my feet onto the cold ground and felt for a sock.

Lar watched the rain spilling in romantic sheets. 'You'll need an ark to get back. It's like a bog when it rains. No one will be able to get you. Not me, not the constabulary, nor anyone else. If the weather worsens, make sure you get back in time. Otherwise, everything will be closed until further boatice.'

'Boatice?' I said.

'Now that is humour. Rain, boats, further notice. Get it?' Lar left more spritely than when he entered.

[jamietukpahwriting]

It was at this point that the parlormaid, round-eyed with wonder, announced Cyril Proom. Proom had come to the front door, a gesture which had brought beads of perspiration out on his forehead, and the maid had nearly fainted. Not because she had expected him to come by the back door either. She had simply expected him to be forever at Mersham; immaculate, planted, there.

Rabinovitch looked up—and was at once attacked by a deep, an almost ungovernable lust.

Hannah was a good housekeeper. The Towers ran well, the food was excellent, the rooms clean and cared for. But Hanna, sensibly knowing her limitations, stuck to women servans, and these she treated in the traditions that prevailed in the village homesteads of her youth. In the servants’ quarters of The Towers nothing was secret, nothing, felt Leo Rabinovitch, was spared. The Rabinovitches’ maids got the shingles and the piles and were nursed by Hannah. They were crossed in love and their sobs floated up to the study where Rabinovitch was trying to read his company reports. They dreamed about nesting crows and royal babies and fire engines and told him so while serving breakfast. They walked in their sleep, their aunts fell off bicycles, poltergeists infested their cousins’ cottages—and every disaster, minutely chronicled, reverberated through the rooms and corridors of his house.

But if Proom had come to offer his services… If Poom were to take over the running of The Towers… Leo’s eyes momentarily closed and a series of dizzying vignettes flashed through his mind. Himself sitting at dinner while a totally silent footman, an English footman, inscrutable and powdered, approached with the lebernockerl and sauerkraut. HImself arriving after a day in the city, handing his hat and coat to Proom himself and receiving only a pleasant: “I trust you had a successful day, sir?”

But as he looked at Proom, standing respectfully before him in his unaccustomed lounge suit, Leo knew that all this could not—should not, even—be. For Proom belonged to Mersham. Proom was Mersham.

—A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson