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Trove wondered if she threw away all her stuff and went severely minimalist, the endless packing stuff to move dreams would stop. There was an unusual twist to this dream though: they had been living in Kove’s rambling house, presumably on the south coast of England (Kove was Dude’s ex) and when Kove came back home it became clear that it would be a good idea to move out (although there was nothing about the ex part of the actual story in the dream). Trove didn’t know whether to move back to Spain, or back to the Midlands. She wanted to see her grandfather again in the Midlands (even planned on going back there at least for a day or two to see him ~ despite that he had died years ago), but the thought of living there again was like an enormous black cloud. We have to go back down south again, we have to, she thought, and then realized painfully that she was too grown up now or too old to have anyone to move back home to, they would be “on their own” which was not without difficulty for some reason. Then, the packing started. The endless sorting out of mostly rubbish. One of the bedroom cupboards had an oven in it, a filthy blackened hole of grease and debris.

Trove wondered if she had dropped enough hints about parcels yet and if everyone had remembered that it was her 57th birthday soon.

“Who’s this new person appearing disguised in a pseudonym?”
Trove wasn’t the least bit surprised at how well the daily random quote went with the days new beginnings;
“They had forgotten rule number one. Nothing is hidden from you. Granted, a pseudonym is a mask, but the choice of the mask is revealing enough of a clue.
Then, you had to ask the questions in the right order. “Who is it?” should be the last of them all.”
No wonder a bowler hat appeared on her wall today.
““Whatever you proclaim as your identity here in the material realm is also your drag. You are not your religion. You are not your skin color. You are not your gender, your politics, your career, or your marital status. You are none of the superficial things that this world deems important. The real you is the energy force that created the entire universe!”

X Trim (the new alias of Ed Steam) was pleased to see that as usual, things happened to converge his way especially when he went on to clean his inner old rattled cages caked in bird’s poop — a rather inelegant metaphor for going with the flow.

He’d been pondering going to a new line of business for awhile, had even gone so far as to discuss the matter of a new yearly launchpad, with the core team of old days and a brand new tagline —or drag-line, to be accurate.
All of that because of a rather quaint discovery of time traveling device, and a funny twist.
He had a brief hesitation for the reignited spark left in the draft of wind that would follow, but had figured for some time now, that all things would be alright in the end, and if it were not the case, then it wasn’t the end.

The parcel had been delivered to her house, and not to her new friend and neighbours house just down the road, for various reasons mostly to do with efficiency, post offices and lack of specific house addresses. The parcel containing the music had been sitting in her kitchen for almost a week, which oddly enough was probably as long as the parcel had taken to travel from North Carolina.
Trove (for that was her name) and Dude (for that was her partners name) played a tile game of rummy, and it was an unusual game that night. Dude noticed missing tiles on the table on at least five occasions, and not altogether unsurpringly assumed that Trove should have been wearing her glasses, instead of placing incorrect sequences with missing tiles. Trove on the other hand, bearing in mind that she was not in the habit of doing this normally, insisted that the tiles had simply disappeared, or changed somehow.

You may well ask how a large and solid standing stone broke in two. (The same stone, coincidentally, that fell over a couple of days ago). There is no mystery here, or supernatural phenomena, no extreme weather event or geological catastrophe. The stone was merely thrown over a fence, because the person throwing it attached no particular importance or significance to it; to him, it was “just another rock”. The person to whom the stone had importance and significance quickly decided there was an important significance to the stone splitting into two incident, although she had not yet deciphered what it was. The idea of “nothing being cast in stone” held considerable appeal, as did the simple idea of a stone circle relocating. It was unusual, unexpected, magical even ~ although not impossible, not often considered as a possibility, and rarely if ever considered as an idea worth pursuing. Perhaps that was because there was a strong belief of certain places in space having intrinsic related values, even if those values were not clear. Values based on the assumption that anything that has been in place for a very long time must be there for good reasons that we may not understand, but that we should respect them and revere them notwithstandingstone.

“Finally the answer we need! Let’s release the damn bird and get back home now! Besides its cage needs cleaning and it’s starting to smell, and I can’t stand this place any longer…”

Funnily enough, she had wanted to post the daily random quote too because it seemed so significant, and in point of fact, it was awaiting in the comment box when she woke up. The previous night she had been about to post it, and then wondered if she’d posted enough already.

She recalled some dream snippets too, which was most uusual, and woke up almost smiling. There had been a big house and people, but the only clear recall was dropping an ecstasy pill on the floor, and it bounced this way and that and disappeared into another room, and everyone was looking for it everywhere. All of the dogs were bright cartoon colours and were all sitting patiently upright in a tree, a cartoon type tree.

She thought it quite amusingly significant that everyone was looking for the ecstacy, and just remembered that they did find a pill on the floor, a white one, but that wasn’t the pill they were looking for.

Abandoned structures where the wild things grow……not in rows and lines of forced behaviour for maximum controlled output wrapped in neatly positioned plastic, but shredded with tatters blowing in the breeze and sunlight streaming through the rips, saplings bursting through the tears, and brambles twined around the wired enclosures, spilling inside and outside. Jumbles of wild flowers, fresh and juicy amidst thorny dried stalks of last years endeavours, and the year before that, and so on.

on going in a different direction ~ I went left instead of right (on impulse), walked up the road and turned left, instead of down the road and turning right. The first thing I noticed, well not the first thing, the first thing was the baby mule and the horses, but the next thing (other than the wildflowers) was the contrast between the writhing gnarled tree shapes against the backdrop of severely rigid pylons. Then a bit further down the lane, and I never knew it was there, one of my favourite things: an abandoned shredded plastic green house tunnel, taken over by climbing wild roses.

Tina was rendered momentarily speechless.

Nobody was surprised the General was getting bored with all those Plonkers at the Ministry. As luck would have it, there WAS a vacancy in the Unministry. The previous person left because she had an impulse and walked off the planet. Nobody knew who she was, just that there was an empty chair at the Unministry. There were often empty chairs—that was the nature of the position and really the whole point of being at the Unministry was to be loose and vacant.

“What I am trying to say is that given the propensity for empty chairs it took a while to realise that a vacancy even existed.” said someone.