Spooky.

Really, I have got to get out of the habit of getting all excited every time my magick works. The Powers the Be have just delivered, big time, and my adrenal glands are being all weird about it. They're bouncing up and down like a couple of puppies.

Y'know the other day, when I mentioned to the Entities that I was thinking of selling my evil dollies on line, and that it would be nice to have a way of taking pix of them? Well, guess who's getting a digital camera in a few weeks' time. Turns out that my Mum has a spare one going begging, which will be mine when next I see her.

Which brings me to my next bit of news: I will soon be back in the UK for a spell. There's this wedding in Ireland, and a birthday in London, and some other stuff. I'll be around from early- to mid-September; details of pub crawls and sundry debauchery will be announced through the usual channels as and when I can be bothered.

It's been a funny weekend. There was this huge storm on Sunday morning, which kept popping back for curtain calls all day long. I gave the park a miss. Feel a bit guilty, but I don't imagine that very many people would have turned out anyway. Still looking for safe places to fly-pitch during the rest of the week. Somewhere the police wink at such mildly illegal behaviour; somewhere untrammelled by licened traders who are likely to cut up rough if they observe a distinctly unlicenced MC setting up shop; somewhere inhabited by other fly-pitchers of a gentle and non-territorial bent. Somewhere with lots of rich beadwork fetishists. I haven't found it yet, but I will search on, bold, resolute and unfaltering, until the Eldorado of flypitchers appears before my weary gaze. Or until I get all hot and fed up and decide to go and sit in the internet cafe for a bit.

Anyway, I'm off to Google for pictures of harpies and stuff.

(PS: Thankyou for the help, spooky invisible people. Much appreciated.)