Albion, Books, Don and Wen

Dear Wen: Big Wheels…

Dear Da Wensta…

The remedials, as I recall, back in the day, were a ‘class of individuals’ best shunted into the dungeons of our glorious process in the name of Progress…

Curious how all these accepted terms now seem to acquire quite sinister undertones.

Still, there is nothing quite like having the wool pulled over your eyes before you really know what wool is. I always found that most of those folk were a lot more fun, and intelligent, than had been made out, but that is probably my oiky ‘Oirish’ coming to the fore, again.

I have been tussling with a new term designed to frighten the Gaolers – ‘ghaist volk’ or ‘folk geist’.  You may have noticed the cunning combination of German, Scorts and English which should float the boat of all our europhiles, although, possibly not. I fear ’twas never a happy juxtaposition of allegiances, that one, more like a nest of harpies, but anyway…

Perhaps, even, these are close but ambivalent terms referring to slighty different experiences so that ‘ghaist volk’ would refer to Ozzie Gable and the Zombie Beater, while ‘folk geist’ would encompass our ability to disappear completely from view in the middle of a tourist attraction. Who knows…

Ah, the vagaries of a ‘Celtic Folk Soul’ are not constrained.

In terms of sheepage it really is a case of appreciating when to run and when to chase, as we know only to well. What is it about the stones that is able to so completley transform a nature bred in over centuries, yet seemingly rendered meaningless at ‘the flick of a switch’?

Long before switches were electrical they were wooden, possibly Rowan, and were used by those in the know to affect changes in outer, or perceivable form. Does that sound at all familiar?

I see now how I was so completely lacking a third from my previous outing. It inspires me not now to consider just how nightmarish a trip through a valley of dark, stormy, ravenous lochs can be. Juggernautical I’d call it, and so Lugh fits that particular bill too…

The lines you refer to probably start more like lines on an instrument, say a zither, and then proceed to those structural supports of a Big Wheel, as the shadow side is gradually revealed. Good film that. Well worth a second look, although, Holly in the final analysis fails utterly. He destroys the Shadow and the girl walks off without him…

Poor, poor Holly…

Are Big Wheels like Big Hitters, one wonders?

Mrs Meadbarrow, has not quite reached her end, yet, or should that be her end has not yet reached forth?

Tell the Dog Wonder that too many sausages will make him a Big Beast…

Head-Taps, are not like that!

Love Don x

 

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