Lord Malarkey Himself had a jolly good time at Whooverville over the weekend. He met fellow Doctor Who writers and fans, he signed copies of his novel, he took part in interview panels, and he got a spontaneous round of applause from one audience for saying something very wise and prosaic! Here he is, being all suave and authorial…
Loving that cheeky dimple!! I thought he might have worn one of the many Doctor Who t-shirts I’ve bought him over the years but I guess when one is a guest celeb at these things one has to maintain a certain air of sophistication.
Yesterday evening, whilst we were watching the BAFTAs on TV (and being appalled at how few programmes, films and celebrities we actually recognised, which means we are either a) getting old or b) don’t watch as much TV as we thought we did) he said, ‘Perhaps I should take up writing again.’ I said, ‘Yes, you should.’ And left it at that, to see what happens. He’s a very good writer. Different in style to me, which is why our attempted joint writing project called ‘Duck When the Boom Swings’ was never completed. Pity, really, because it was a bit of a hoot. It was about an ageing rock star, Boom Penguin, trying to make a celebrity comeback and getting mixed up with a psychic investigator called Honeybun Slingsby, a character named after a rabbit that once belonged to my good friend, Jane. The character ISN’T a rabbit but the name was too good an opportunity to waste. The story was set in the village of Olden Glish and contained characters such as the evil Sir Kelton, Bob Frapples, Dave ‘Shiplap’ Chalet, and Rofl and Rita Mao. There was even a scuba-diving chihuahua called Pepé! See, even writing about it now makes me want to dig out the script and give it another go!
We were watching the BAFTAs whilst waiting for Andy’s work colleague to come and collect the Idiot Bantams. She called us to say she was half an hour away, so we went up the garden to move Mollie, May and Magnus from the Eglu run and into their travelling containers a.k.a Bambino’s cat carrier and a plastic box with air holes punched in the top. We’d hoped to transport them in the actual Eglu to save the worry of them escaping until they were in the new home, but Andy’s colleague’s car wasn’t big enough. Therefore, we had the added twilight frisson of excitement transferring them from the Eglu pod and into their travel accommodation.
We did it though! Cunning and a bath towel mean that Mollie and May were soon in the cat carrier and Magnus was in the plastic box. And then they were on their way to their new home, with grateful thanks to their new chicken mum. She says she will send photos of them when they are settled.
It was oddly quiet in the garden this morning. No cock-a-doodle doing. No kerfuffles and scritch-scratching. The grass beneath the roosting tree will soon recover from the constant supply of dung. Nell will have to find something else disgusting to eat other than chicken poo. I’ll be able to garden without having chickens keen to dig up what I’ve just planted. It’ll be a bit weird, but as with all the changes that have happened in the last few months, I’ll grow accustomed to it. All will be well.
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