Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 141

Today is Sunday, the 31st of January 2021.

Bats are bad but cats are batter.


"Bromford"

Bromford, hear my words
Where the eagles cry
And the spirits fly o'er sacred land
Bromford, hear my prayers
They're a feeble cry
To an angry sky that bleeds for Man

"So get up and shut up
and don't let us use you
Oh get up and shut up
and let us abuse you"

It's a crazy world

And my spirit cries against the wind -
can you send to me

I've been this way before
I've danced on distant shores
I've watched the minds of men
Go south - come back again

I've walked a million miles
I've seen my little child
I've knocked on every door
And still I'm wanting more -
To be home -
To be home -
yeah yeah to be home -
To be home
yeah yeah to be home

Longer Futures …

Guest - The Last Evening

'Maniac Mansion. Maniac Mansion', the stumbling bird and the Zappageck are singing in unison. 'Our house is a maniac mansion.'

'Our house is a very, very, very fine house, with two cats in the yard', the polite but narcoleptic llama girl adds in a kind of spoken rap.

'Life used to be so hard, doodle', Marianne the doodle-hen tries to add. 'No everything is, doodle, easy, doodle, 'cause of, doodle, you, doodle, doodle, doodle…'

'Stop it, Marianne', the cat in the hat says. 'You are loosing it again.'

'And there aren't two cats in the yard', a pair of male twins in in black suits and white shirts with black ties and black bowler hats explains, 'only two scientists and inventors from the laboratory in the basement.'

'Peastone', the first brother introduces himself.

'And Peastone', the second brother adds.

'AND I AM A MIGHTY DINOSAUR!' the Zappageck shouts out while using a slide in the yard by sliding down in the snow without a sleigh but with a big orange safety helmet.

And the fortune cookie says,

Don't worry about things you cannot change.

Today is Wednesday, the 27th of January 2021.

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

What a strange company, the protagonist thinks. I wonder who is paying the rent.

Longer Todays …

The protagonist is walking up and down the cold and empty rooms. They keep forgetting me, he thinks. They left me here on my own pretending I never existed. And they keep talking about walking and talking animals all this time. Where will it end?

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

Gotta Light? - The Law of the Jungle

Someone is whistling a five note tune.

'What is that?' the llama sometimes called the animal asks Bromford.

'I do not know', Bromford Bibble whispers. 'Looks like a giant bumble bee to me.'

'It is not whistling', the stumbling bird declares in his most solemn voice. 'The Pudding Hummsel is humming. And deep inside her heart she is a humming bird.'

In fact, the Pudding Hummsel is a kind of a daughter to the cat in the hat, a very big insect, some kind of bumble or bee of sort, who likes pudding and pudding and nothing but pudding.

'It is not a Pudding Hummsel, it is a Pudding Damsel. A Pudding Damsel in distress', shouts the Zappageck, a little cheeky, naughty reptile, something between gecko and chameleon.

'Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go!'

Baby Huebner sings louder and falser than ever and is hammering on the piano keys.

'Maniacs', the llama says. 'This house is full of maniacs.'

And the fortune cookies says,

Bromford will have a bright future.

Today is Monday, the 25th of January 2021.

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

I bet he will, the protagonist thinks.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 140

Today is Sunday, the 24th of January 2021.

Rats become bats when they start wearing batman costumes.

Think about it.

"Bromford"

Say it was your Bromford
Say it was my Bromford
It was my Bromford
Tell all people

Now you know it's over rolling off her shoulder
You can take a ladder to the shadows and forget
Was it how she kissed you and then dismissed you
Was it purposeful and was it just to hook you in

Hallucinating, chasing, changing, racing
Breaking, hating till you lost it all
Where was your girlfriend, he was not your man
Where you were going, you're on your own

He was quick to burning
He was slow to learning
Though inside your misty
He still kissed her when she cried
And did your best to please her
And then get up and leave her
You befriended the harsh way it ended now sleep tight

Longer Wisdoms …

Gladys - The Man behind the Glass

'We are having the time of our lives', the stumbling bird, another inhabitant of the house on Number 17, Prune Alley, which is the same house in the small town at the end and the edge of the street we are talking about here all this time, shouts out loud. 'They told us it was hard, but they were wrong. It is harder.'

'We are having visitors from Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, doodle', Marianne, the doodle-hen says, 'Bromford and KussKuss, the llama.'

And the llama kisses her right on the beak.

'Those are two persons from another household', the stumbling bird with his way too long legs and his weak, but false knees which are in fact his ankle joints for his knees are way more up his body hidden at the tops of his legs, shouts again. 'They are not allowed.'

'Hey, I am not a person', the llama exclaims insulted.

'And don't call it a household', says Bromford, who seams to be a human being.

'I love restrictions', the polite but sleepy llama girl says. 'And I love pandemics.'

And the llama, which I like to call the animal, because we all know what happens when you are speaking out its' name aloud, whispers in my ear, 'There are way to many llamas in your blockblog. And we are not related.'


And the fortune cookie says,

Today is Saturday, the 23rd of January 2021.

Longer Llamas ...

 G'Day Melbourne - The Miracle of Purun Bhagat

And what happens next in the house on the edge of the small town and at the end of the street?

Are the cat in the hat and the captain lovers? Are they in love … actually?

The captain is a dog. How could a cat and a dog be in love? They have got better things to do. Raining for example. It is raining cats and dogs? Snowing, it is snowing season.

The cat opens the house and the doors for all kind of orphans and freaks and soon every room is occupied from cellar to the attic.

There is Baby Huebner, a young wild boar who likes to play the piano in the basement, not good, but really very loud.

'This is Beethoven, you banause. Can't you see the white plaster bust? 250 years Ludwig van Beethoven, last year- Don't you remember?'

And then there is a narcotic or narcoleptic llama girl who falls asleep every four or five minutes during telling everyone that she was lonely and lost her parents, somewhere in space and time. She is very polite but starts walking backwards every time she falls asleep.

'And who pays the rent?' Marianne the doodle-hen asks.

And the fortune cookie says,

Wisdom is seldom found in youth and beauty.

Today is Tuesday, the 19th of January 2021.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 139

Today is Sunday, the 17th of January 2021.

Let me take you by the hand and lead you to the towers of Bromford.
Bromford Bridge is down.
Giving to much away?
Seagulls are the rats of the coastal areas.
Think about it.

"Towers Of Bromford"

Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Did you watch over the men who fell
Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Victoria's gem found in somebody's hell

Pavements of gold leading to the underground
Grenadier Guardsmen walking pretty ladies around
Fog is the sweat of the never never navvies who pound
Spikes in the rails to their very own heaven

Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Did you watch over the men who fell
Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Victoria's gem found in somebody's hell

Bridges of muscles spanning so long and high
Merchants from Stepney walking pretty ladies by
Rain is the tears of the never never navvies who cry
For the bridge that doesn't go
In the direction of Dublin

Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Did you watch over the men who fell
Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Victoria's gem found in somebody's hell

And I've seen it in a painting
And I've seen it in engraving
And I've seen it in their faces
Clear as children's chalk lines on the paving

And I've seen it in a painting
And I've seen it in engraving
And I've seen it in their faces
Clear as children's chalk lines on the paving

Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Did you watch over the men who fell
Towers of Bromford
When they had built you
Victoria's gem found in somebody's hell

Towers of Bromford, Towers of Bromford
Towers of Bromford, Towers of Bromford

La La Bromford, La La Bromford
La La Bromford, La La Bromford
La La Bromford...

Longer Cats ...

All these pleasant trips to distance places, cock-and-bull stories they are. The captain is telling yarn, the third tenant of the cat's old house at the edge of the small town says. She is a hen, a hen called Marianne, they like to call the doodle-hen.

And the old sea dog is drinking amber liqueur, the gold of the Baltic Sea. 50 million years, you know?

And where are those evil clowns?

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs that helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel's whole future is as good as sealed, yeah

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Nigel is not outspoken
But he likes to speak, and he loves to be spoken to (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Mm, we're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
Steel, steel, steel, steel, steel
Yeah, yeah

We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel

'Nigel, where are you?' the llama shouts out of the window of the kitchen of the penthouse on the rooftop of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

'Only one other person from another household for visiting allowed, animal', Nigels shouts up from the apartment below.

And the llama wonders, 'Who is the first visitor?'

And the fortune cookie says,

Everything is beautiful in the eyes of lovers.

Four - The Most Powerful Man in the World (and His Identical Twin Brother)
Today is Wednesday, the 13th of January 2021.

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

The most powerful man in the world is the president of the internet, the protagonist thinks. Unthinkable if he had an identical twin brother.

Longer Hats …

A bad day is a bed day.
This used to be a fun house.
But now it's full of evil clowns.

There is a cat in a hat - a very posh lady with a big hat such as the ladies would have worn to a horse race back in the days when there still were horse races and derbies and events like that.

The cat in the hat lives in this old house at the edge of a small town together with an old sea dog who claims to have been a captain and to have travelled all seven seas - as mentioned by the Sumerian High Priestess Enheduanna in her 8th Hymn to the goddess Inanna.

What?

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs that helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel's whole future is as good as sealed, yeah

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Nigel is not outspoken
But he likes to speak, and he loves to be spoken to (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Mm, we're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
Steel, steel, steel, steel, steel
Yeah, yeah

We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel

And the fortune cookie says,

KussKuss will take a pleasant trip to a distant place.

Five - The One-Armed Man
Today is Monday, the 11th of January 2021

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

The protagonist still has both his arms. And his name is not Mike. He wasn't obsessed and didn't feel the urge to cut off one of his limbs. Not yet, that is.

What?

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 138

Today is Sunday, the 10th of January 2021.
Penguins are bait for seagulls. Think about it...

"Bromford Cap"

Last time that you smiled like that,
You looked good in your Bromford cap.
Your face was thin, but your legs were fat.
You questioned where all our lives were at.

Wasting time with some ageing lad,
Still good looking though your eyes were sad.
You sold your books and you sold your flat,
And ran to where your illusions sat.

No-one but me to hear it
No-one but me to fear it.
No big deal,
No big deal.
No-one but you to be with,
No-one but you to see with.
No big deal,
No big deal.

Not wanting to know what I know
Or needing to do what I do,
Every time I close my eyes,
All I see is you,
All I see.

No-one but me to hear it
No-one but me to fear it.
No big deal,
No big deal.
No-one but you to be with,
No-one but you to see with.
No big deal,
No big deal.

No-one but me to hear it
No-one but me to fear it.
No big deal,
No big deal.
No-one but you to be with,
No-one but you to see with.
No big deal,
No big deal.

No-one but you to be with,
No-one but you to see with.
No big deal,
No big deal.

Longer Standings …

Fire Walk with Me - The Open Road Fire Walk with Me - The Open Road Fire Walk with Me - The Open Road Fire Walk with Me - The Open Road Fire Walk with Me - The Open Road Is Closed …

Baby, it ain't over
till it's over.
Do you believe in miracles?

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs that helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel's whole future is as good as sealed, yeah

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Nigel is not outspoken
But he likes to speak, and he loves to be spoken to (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Mm, we're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
Steel, steel, steel, steel, steel
Yeah, yeah

We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel, Nigel, Nigel, Nigel


And the misfortune cookie says,

Today is a good day to have a bad day.

Today is Saturday, the 9th of January 2021.

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

And the protagonist tries to think of some perseverance slogans to hold out.

Longer Savings …

I don't want to go to school today, animal.

Bromford, you do not have to go to school. You are way too old. Your school days are over.

And what about you, llama? Did your school days stop miraculously, too?

Wake up, Bromford. And think about it. Do llamas have to go to school … school … school … school … school … school … school … school … school … school … ???

*************** Eleven - The Orchid's Curse ***************

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs that helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel's whole future is as good as sealed, yeah

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Nigel is not outspoken
But he likes to speak, and he loves to be spoken to (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)
Nigel is happy in his work (In his work)

We're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

And if young Nigel says he's happy
He must be happy
He must be happy
He must be happy in his work

Mm, we're only making plans for Nigel
We only want what's best for him
We're only making plans for Nigel
Nigel just needs this helping hand

We're only making plans for Nigel
He has this future in a British steel
Steel, steel, steel, steel, steel
Yeah, yeah

We're only making plans for Nigel

Isn't it over yet?

Grow up. Obviously not.

And the fortune cookie says,

Bromford is about to witness a miracle.

Today is Tuesday, the 5th of January 2021.

🌨🌨🌨🌨🌨

The protagonist is looking at the sky. Looks like snow, he thinks. In the city snow is not silent at all, he thinks. And there is always a higher house in the city. Chilly it is.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 137

Today is Sunday, the 3rd of January 2021.

A new year. A happier year, a healthier year. New year same as the old year.
Repeat... Start over... Star over?

Take your time. 15 minutes, to be precise...

"Rose Of Bromford"

The candle stutters in the desert breeze
Sets the characters dancing on a dusty page
The hearts of darkness beat in the starlight
A burning bush, the ashes glow, charcoals blacken the embers
Show the words of the prophet
The promise of miracles, prayers of deliverance, faith in the fire

Before a timeless dawn the shadows crawl, the dew evaporatеs
The rising sun signals the movemеnt a world in motion
The woodsmoke lingers in the patchy thorns
Where partridge scuffle a nervous squall, a panicking hare breaks from his cover

The figures wander through familiar lands
The razored rock, the scorching sands
Follow the footsteps of lost generations
That gathered the flowers to place in their baskets
The scent of the petals carries the memories
The eternal fragrance of the rose of Bromford

In the back of a bouncing car
Potholes abound on the dark road to city lights
Heading for coffee bars, singing along to the songs on the radio
The spell of a Friday night
Bewitches their hearts and banishes sadness
Lost in their teenage dreams, careless and free to their fate, they're oblivious
Her blouse unbuttoned, she opens the collar
Checks the mirror for her lipstick smile
Smoothing her dress, she glances behind her
Condemning eyes are now so far away

She moves in the bustling crowds
Her confidence shows, her presence invisible
The beat of the pulsing night lifting her
High on the wings of a butterfly

Deaf to the gathering storm, screams in the darkness
Whispers in alleyways
She joins with the growing throng, carried away unaware of her destiny
She breathes in the wind of change, heady with hope
The promise of freedoms
Leaving the lights behind, a tear in her eye
She heads into the darkness

She wraps her skirts in ancient tissue paper
Folds them away within the cellophane
Her heels in boxes, her blouse fully buttoned
She hides her heart until another day

She breathes in the wind of change, heady with hope
The promise of freedoms
Joining the growing throng, carried away unaware of her destiny
Defiance scrawled on the walls
Inspiring the ranks of keyboard warriors
The authors are all long gone, snatched in their sleep
Or dreaming in uniforms

Guarding the cellar doors from the chill powdered snows
From the Anti-Lebanon
That silently lay a shroud on the fields of the dead
And the Damask roses

Colourless men under colourless skies herd broken creatures
Reeking of fear into dark caves for slaughter
Desiccated heads pinned on the rusty railings, in a flyblown square
Where the pendulums of corpses, hanging from the streetlights

Mark silent time, on a never-ending war
Cynical rockets fly in on soft targets
Creeping artillery round up the districts
Over which helicopters hover, carrying Pandora's boxes to eviscerate

To eliminate the survivors below
Sleek roaring jets glint on the horizon
To arrive in a moment to unleash merciless retribution
A hellish symphony, a monotonous cacophony
A soundtrack for the carnage
On the petrified innocents, the interminable onslaught
From unchallenged skies
She came to in the rubble, in the debris of her memories
In a broken world she couldn't recognise
She wanders in the landscape, a solemn wraithlike figure
In the company of ghosts she knew before
Through the canyons of the labyrinth
The twisted concrete skeletons
The clouds of smoke and dust that fill the skies

The blinding light, it fell out of the heavens
And changed her life forever
She's no one left, everything has gone, she knows she has to leave
Nowhere to shelter, no food, no heat, no water
Struggling to survive
On the edge of the shadows, she's aware the snipers follow;
The clock is ticking down

She was searching for a vision, some sign to give direction
In this wasteland where it's a curse to be alive
When there across the crippled street, on a terracotta balcony
A splintered shard of colour caught her eye

The sweet familiar fragrance, the delicate fragile petals
Of the Damask rose
The flowers blown and battered, the roots exposed and tattered
It wills to thrive
Her nurturing hand wraps the treasured cuttings
In a fist of moistened clay
To carry on her journey, to find another homeland
Somewhere to blossom and come alive
The windscreen wipers battle futilely
Against the swirling dust storms

Their soothing rhythm and the movement of the bus
Providing some temporary reassurance
Lulling her into an uneasy sleep

Cautiously threading their way along ancient smugglers routes
Down through the valleys
Under a ceiling of stark starlight, her only baggage
The fragments of the horrors she couldn't leave behind
The passage was paid for in greedy exchanges
With callous strangers full of promises and peddling hope
Whose cold lecherous eyes followed her
As she took the transport up the coast
To a deserted inlet out of sight of prying eyes and guardian angels

She felt the sands shift under her feet
The waves racing up onto the moonlit beach
Dancing around her ankles
The ebb pulling her further into the swelling tide
Allowing the powerful but gentle lift of the chilling waters
To carry her to waiting hands
To be pulled up onto the fearful overcrowded boat

She stares out into the night towards the dark sea
That disappears into the horizon
Her past slips into the distance behind
Her as she nurses the slender waxed-cotton bundle
That holds her treasured stems, her roots, her legacy
Her destiny