Dear Pater,
Celebrated my (Earthly) birthday today. It seems to be one of the few benefits of being here, since as far as I know I don't have a birthday in the Realm. You must explain that to me someday.
Anyway, everyone was very sweet. They put my presents under a tree - I suppose it is the thought that counts because the presents themselves were rubbish, to whit:
- a turnip
- a broom
- a pair of sandals
- some sand
- a stick (not sure if this is intended to be burnt, or to support me as I walk)
- a lump of cheese (at least I hope that's what it is)
The younger children were very kind, as was Mary, my surrogate mum. She did at least cook a nice meal including one of my favourites, Jerusalem Sprouts.
It was somehow telegraphed to me that this was a one-off and that I needn't expect an annual bash.
Fair enough.
Anyway, that's all for now,
Love to mama.
PS - send a pressie if you like, but no pressure.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Friday, 19 December 2008
Postcard from Earth (3: we do laugh)
Dear Pater,
Trust all is well in the Realm. Things continue to limp along here. I would like to make my mark, but how? Need to reflect on that a while.
Anyway, enough of the serious stuff. You'll laugh at this. I'm still sneaking off to the temple to have a bit of argy bargy with the local clerics and we've got into this kind of comic routine. When I get there they say "Well, if it isn't the little whippersnapper" and then I retort "Well, if it isn't the big whoppersnippers".
We do laugh.
But maybe you have to be there.
That's all for now,
Love to mama.
PS - of course it occurs to me that you may not know about genital mutilation, in which case the joke falls rather flat. I'll explain it sometime.
Trust all is well in the Realm. Things continue to limp along here. I would like to make my mark, but how? Need to reflect on that a while.
Anyway, enough of the serious stuff. You'll laugh at this. I'm still sneaking off to the temple to have a bit of argy bargy with the local clerics and we've got into this kind of comic routine. When I get there they say "Well, if it isn't the little whippersnapper" and then I retort "Well, if it isn't the big whoppersnippers".
We do laugh.
But maybe you have to be there.
That's all for now,
Love to mama.
PS - of course it occurs to me that you may not know about genital mutilation, in which case the joke falls rather flat. I'll explain it sometime.
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
Postcard from Earth (2: mucking in, mucking out)
Dear Pater,
Nothing much to report. I have to say that I thought "Planet of the Apes" would be rather more fun than appears to be the case, but, early days. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Well you for one. Ha ha, just a little celestial humour there.
Despite being the oldest I have to do loads of household chores, clean out the chicken run, sweep up the shavings. Honestly!
Lost it recently after being told to muck out the stables and said to my biological mum, Mary, "Now look here! I am the son of God you know!"
Well, she just fixed me with her beady and responded "We are ALL the children of God, sunshine! Now get going you little mucker" or words much to that effect.
Blimey, slightly more to the wench than I had credited. Honestly, that glint put me in mind of mama, bless her. Is there a common thread running through all female entities that I had failed to spot?
Anyway, that's it for now.
Love to mama.
PS - it might be better if you did not relate the above to her.
Nothing much to report. I have to say that I thought "Planet of the Apes" would be rather more fun than appears to be the case, but, early days. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Well you for one. Ha ha, just a little celestial humour there.
Despite being the oldest I have to do loads of household chores, clean out the chicken run, sweep up the shavings. Honestly!
Lost it recently after being told to muck out the stables and said to my biological mum, Mary, "Now look here! I am the son of God you know!"
Well, she just fixed me with her beady and responded "We are ALL the children of God, sunshine! Now get going you little mucker" or words much to that effect.
Blimey, slightly more to the wench than I had credited. Honestly, that glint put me in mind of mama, bless her. Is there a common thread running through all female entities that I had failed to spot?
Anyway, that's it for now.
Love to mama.
PS - it might be better if you did not relate the above to her.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Postcard from Earth (1: chewing the fat)
Dear Pater,
So far things are going pretty well. I'm not as little as I used to be which is good. I mean I can walk on my own and stuff.
My Earthly parents are Joseph and Mary; maybe you knew that. Worthy types, but a bit literal.
Everyone is pretty ignorant here. Recently engaged some Holy men in a little debate and ran circles around them. Now I know what you're thinking Pater ... anyone from the Realm should be able to take on a primate and all that, but still. I was good. I know I was.
My Earthlies had a bit of a purple fit because they had gone on ahead with the caravan (how was I supposed to know) and I'd got left behind. Does suggest that their parenting skills are a couple of brownie points short of illustrious ...
Anyway I expect they were dead chuffed to see me chewing the fat with the Holy ones. I got grounded all the same and have to wear a horrid itchy scratchy shirt thing as punishment.
That's all for now.
Love to mama.
PS - any chance you can do something about my internal and external parasites? Ta.
[Editor's note: an interesting change in format; anyway, let's see where it takes us.]
So far things are going pretty well. I'm not as little as I used to be which is good. I mean I can walk on my own and stuff.
My Earthly parents are Joseph and Mary; maybe you knew that. Worthy types, but a bit literal.
Everyone is pretty ignorant here. Recently engaged some Holy men in a little debate and ran circles around them. Now I know what you're thinking Pater ... anyone from the Realm should be able to take on a primate and all that, but still. I was good. I know I was.
My Earthlies had a bit of a purple fit because they had gone on ahead with the caravan (how was I supposed to know) and I'd got left behind. Does suggest that their parenting skills are a couple of brownie points short of illustrious ...
Anyway I expect they were dead chuffed to see me chewing the fat with the Holy ones. I got grounded all the same and have to wear a horrid itchy scratchy shirt thing as punishment.
That's all for now.
Love to mama.
PS - any chance you can do something about my internal and external parasites? Ta.
[Editor's note: an interesting change in format; anyway, let's see where it takes us.]
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Entry 58: in which temptation fails to deliver
Despite having hatched a plan so cunning that foxes are still trying to understand it the outcome has been a little short of outright success. In fact, you could say that it failed. But only if you were uncharitable. Well, uncharitable and gifted with a pernicious level of honesty. But enough.
This is what Lucy reported.
It all started rather strangely. Turns out that by the time Lucy was on the scene, the lad and Ghost were already in the sticks ready to topple off high places. Now I had quite forgotten to prime the Ghost on this part of the wheeze, but some ethereal whatsit called Azazel presented his credentials to the Ghost and led the lad out into the wilderness anyway. The Ghost knows him it seems, and the name does sound vaguely familiar. Turns out he's a kind of Metatron in reverse - once used to be in the Realm, but headed for Earth long since where he has stayed. He's a shape shifter, and mostly seems to like to go around as a goat.
Personally I don't like the sound of this. Superstitious types are going to have the lot of us trotting around on cloven hooves, sprouting horns etc. Not good for the image, but Lucy pooh-poohed this as very unlikely, so allowed myself to be reassured.
Anyway, this Azazel was off being a goat elsewhere when Lucy arrived so he wasted no time and engaged the lad in a spot of temptation, standard stuff, turn rocks into bread, jump off a cliff for the fun of it, that sort of thing. The lad was in a right gloom though and was having none of it (I could have told Lucy, rocks into milk and cookies and he would have had a chance, but never mind).
Indeed, it was all a bit poignant apparently.
"Really?" I enquire. "Do tell Lucy. What transpired?"
"Well, it was quite distressing really. I'm only halfway through my temptation routine, done the loaves, done the jewels, but haven't got onto wine, women and song yet when he pipes up 'Look Lucy, stop arsing around. Why not get behind me for once? I could do with the backup.' Just like that".
"Get behind him eh? Gosh, he does sound a bit down ... What next?"
"Honestly Chief, I think we've shot our wad. Given the life expectancy on that planet, he'll be back in time for tea. Just sit this one out. That's what I would do."
Which is pretty well what I've said all along.
Not that anyone will remember.
This is what Lucy reported.
It all started rather strangely. Turns out that by the time Lucy was on the scene, the lad and Ghost were already in the sticks ready to topple off high places. Now I had quite forgotten to prime the Ghost on this part of the wheeze, but some ethereal whatsit called Azazel presented his credentials to the Ghost and led the lad out into the wilderness anyway. The Ghost knows him it seems, and the name does sound vaguely familiar. Turns out he's a kind of Metatron in reverse - once used to be in the Realm, but headed for Earth long since where he has stayed. He's a shape shifter, and mostly seems to like to go around as a goat.
Personally I don't like the sound of this. Superstitious types are going to have the lot of us trotting around on cloven hooves, sprouting horns etc. Not good for the image, but Lucy pooh-poohed this as very unlikely, so allowed myself to be reassured.
Anyway, this Azazel was off being a goat elsewhere when Lucy arrived so he wasted no time and engaged the lad in a spot of temptation, standard stuff, turn rocks into bread, jump off a cliff for the fun of it, that sort of thing. The lad was in a right gloom though and was having none of it (I could have told Lucy, rocks into milk and cookies and he would have had a chance, but never mind).
Indeed, it was all a bit poignant apparently.
"Really?" I enquire. "Do tell Lucy. What transpired?"
"Well, it was quite distressing really. I'm only halfway through my temptation routine, done the loaves, done the jewels, but haven't got onto wine, women and song yet when he pipes up 'Look Lucy, stop arsing around. Why not get behind me for once? I could do with the backup.' Just like that".
"Get behind him eh? Gosh, he does sound a bit down ... What next?"
"Honestly Chief, I think we've shot our wad. Given the life expectancy on that planet, he'll be back in time for tea. Just sit this one out. That's what I would do."
Which is pretty well what I've said all along.
Not that anyone will remember.
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