Astute readers, and fanatical Dobsonists, will have noticed that yesterday was the first post-free day since Hooting Yard was relaunched at the beginning of February. The reasons for this are twofold.
1. I have a stinking cold, and am much dependent on Lemsip, which readers will recall is the favoured tipple of our poet laureate Andrew Motion. In fact, I have taken to calling it Motion Potion. In theory, sufficient draughts of this piping hot medicament ought to inspire me to write poetry, just as happens with Mr M. Alas, I seem to be immune.
2. When not whimpering and snuffling and weakly calling aidez-moi! (see Bulle Ogier in Celine & Julie Go Boating, my role model when ill) I am concentrating on a couple of other projects which will be of interest to readers. The follow-up to Befuddled By Cormorants is now in preparation. Unspeakable Desolation Pouring Down From The Stars will include the novella-length title story and two other pieces, together with some charming drawings of postage stamps. In addition, I have been struck by the success of the auctions of ancient Key works in raising hundreds of pounds for ResonanceFM, and have been digging around in the Archives (ie, a couple of cardboard boxes in a cupboard) to see what other material might be made available to people with both money and sense. Watch this space for the imminent announcement of Hooting Yard Auction Number One, likely to feature original artwork.
NOTE : The current Resonance fundraising auction has been moved to eBay. You can place bids for copies of The Brink Of Cramp and House Of Turps.
UPDATE : At the end of bidding, these two titles between them raised Â£199 for Resonance. Thank you to the successful bidders.
Get well soon Frank. Can’t wait to order the new book.
Let us hope that the celebrated Mr K will be speedily restored to health, whether by applications of Phlegmsip or by the natural buoyancy of the human frame.
Liberal doses of honey taken in a little scalding water (its sweetness mitigated with a blast of Cider Vinegar) can be v. efficacious in Quelling Malign Spores.
Might I recommend an alternative to the sipping of lemons there by avoiding a distressing Andrew Motion? For many years I have been an advocate of my father’s methods for ridding one’s self of any bronchial affliction. Pick a star-less night when the wind is from the north (such as it is at the moment) & stand naked on the roof top of your home shouting invocations to St. Blaise for relief of your symptoms. My father found this method to be most effective and lived to be 82 years of age when, during an attack of the snuffles, he slipped from the roof of his hovel on to a recently purchased work of art entitled “Slab of Concrete with Iron Spikes”. He’d been startled by the wailing sirens of the local law platoon. They were racing to investigate reports of a naked religious fanatic spraying phlegm over the village rooftops.