Bromford and Hippogriff …

 

»When I went to school my very big, if not to say giant teacher told me I had to be very carefull and polite to this magical creature. Otherwise it would tear me apart with its' hard and sharp beak.«

»What kind of creature is this?« the llama asks.

I take a closer look at the picture.

»Looks like an oversized eagle and some feathered being with too many wings«, I wonder. »But it may be one magical creature being torn apart. Somehow the tail has lost its' frontend or the front part has lost its' tail. It's magic. All is magic.«

»The title of today's BlockBlog post says 'Hippogriff'«, says the llama. »You cannot have a hippogriff as your new animal companion in the penthouse apartment. A hippogriff is not real. But I wasn't talking about the bird in the picture. I wanted to know what kind of creature the dude in the blue and white shirt was.«

»I cannot believe it. I cannot accept it. After all these walking and talking animals I am not allowed to have a hippogriff? What would my old professor for Care of Magical Creatures would say about that?«

»Walking and talking animals?« The llama is heavily rolling its' eyes. »Where have you gone to school? Hogwash School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Come back to earth, dude! Wake up! This is reality. This is the real world. This is life in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, these days.«

Sunday mornings, I think, are always quite challenging to reality.

»And what are you up to today, animal?« I ask the llama.

»It's time for my yearly CAPTCHA.«

»Your what, animal?«

And the llama says, »My yearly Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart.«

📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶

Today is Sunday, the 24th of August, 2025.

Bromford and Gorilla …

 

🎵 When the sun hits the moon
Like a big pizza spoon
That's amore… 🎵

As I enter the living-room I find the llama standing on the leather couch. Once again, the animal is pretending the seating furniture is a Venetian gondola and the animal itself a gondolier singing and driving the little narrow boat with a broomstick for a gondola pole. With the llama on the couch sits a gorilla.

»What is a pizza spoon?« the gorilla asks.

»I don't know«, answers the llama. »It's just how the common gondoliers' song goes. That's amore…«

»What do you think is the national animal of Italy?« the ape wants to know.

»Rooster, I think it's a rooster.«

»I don't think so. And why didn't you say cock? Like in the Gallic cock - le coq gaulois - the French cock.«

»I think it is quite obvious why I didn't say cock. So maybe the most Italian animal is the bull. Isn't Italy most famous for its bullfights and bullfighters?«

»No, that must be Spain«, the gorilla says.

»Than it must be a stallion. The Italian Stallion.«

»Sylvester Stallone?«

»What calzone? Are you hungry?«

I think it is time to interrupt this nonsense.

Still standing at he door I am throwing questions into the room, »What is going here? What are you two doing on the couch? And who is that gorilla?«

»Oh, see, it's Bromford, the dude who smells like the town«, the llama welcomes me. »May I introduce King Konfused, your Thursday's appointment for the job of new animal companion.«

Oh, how could I have forgotten that this is still a thing.

»And, animal«, I ask, »what do you think? Would King Konfused be a good new animal companion for me?«

»The blue picture of you two looks like you two were a match made in heaven, but oo be honest«, the llama puts the broomstick back into the closet in the hallway, »I don't think so, although he likes Venice and the channels and the gondolos as much as I have ever hated them.«

»Speaking of appointments«, the gorilla interrupts our chit-chat, »I have got to go now. I have got another appointment on the highest building in New York City with a white woman and some annoying airplanes.«

Having spoken these words he jumps out on the roof-terrace and climbs down the façade of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁
🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁
🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁

Today is Thursday, the 21st of August, 2025

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 381 & Part 382

 

Today is Tuesday, the 19th of August, 2025.

What is this nonsense? asked one of nineteen stunt cats. Why are you all following a demented owl through the seasons and the year without any aim and direction? Don't you have work to do, you folks? We are stunt cats, and we - indeed - have a job to do here.

And the nineteen stunt cats with their capes and masks and their skid lids let themselves shoot across the drying river on their flame-spitting motorbikes with a giant cannon.

Happiness is a state of activity, said Aristotle, sighs Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl.

And after their stunt the nineteen stunt cats joined the eleven ninja-cats, the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍

🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍
🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍🐱‍🏍

"Via da Bromford"

E′ l'imperativo di ogni eroe
Qui bisogna cavalcare
Via mare si fa prima, eh già
Via da Bromford

Oltre la Foresta Nera
E la Boemia occidentale
Oltre le pianure d′Ungheria
Via da Bromford

(Reprise)

"Bromford"

Con acciaio e rombo d′elica
In ogni impero umido
Come germe invasore
Mi sento a casa qui
Ebbro d'orgoglio, fumo di spirito
Su questo altare affascinante di un′idea
Un nuovo dio cammina qui
Vita, vita
Nascosta luce dell'anima
Buio

Bruciando chimica d'immagine
Come una fossa di trincea
Sbarro il confine alla
Banalita′ del cuore
E col nemico siamo deboli
Come demone pervaso da follia
Un nuovo dio annega qui
Buio, buio
Nascosta luce dell′anima
Solo

Bromford and Rabbit …

 

- Meet me at the Bromford Harbour Bridge.

* As if… Wait a minute. Dude, did you
 say Bromford Harbour Bridge?

- Yes, llama, I said Bromford Harbour Bridge.

* And you did not mean the Sydney Harbour Bridge?

- No, llama, I did not mean the
 Sydney Harbour Bridge.

* You are not reprising our nonsense
 blockblog post from some days ago
 by picking up the senseless
 discussion about meeting at the
 Sydney Harbour Bridge and the pure
 impossibility of travelling to
 Australia?

- No, I am not. And I still think that it
 is not sheer impossible to travel to
 Australia. A little unlikely and
 definitely not planned in the near
 future, but not purely impossible,
 llama.

* And when you say Bromford Harbour Bridge
 you mean that Harbour Bridge that I can see when I look out of my
 bedroom window, just having to
 stretch my neck a little and turn to
 the left? Is it that Bromford Harbour Bridge
 you are talking about? That
 Bromford Bridge you wanna meet me at, dude?

- That's exactly the bridge I am talking
 about, one and the same, animal.

* As if…

- As if what?

* As if you would ever leave this
 penthouse of ours above the fifteenth floor of the apartment
 building on 666 Whitaker Lane in
 Bromford, the friendly town by the
 bay and seaside, dude. As if you
 would like to go and visit sightseeing
 features of this town that you see
 and use and visit every day.

- You are right, animal. I don't know
 what's gotten into me. Seems like I
 have fallen into some kind of rabbit-hole
 lately.

* A rabbit-hole full of animals, cities
 and songs and lyrics about them -
 even if they aren't really about cities
 and towns and villages, perhaps?

- Rabbits? Are those these smaller
 hares with only a little less creepy
 staring eyes?

* Only as far as I know, dude.

- ARRRGHHHHH!!! Animal, get that
 white magician's pet out of my hat
 and out of my apartment! Now!
 When and why did you let it into our
 home? Get rid of it! It is very bad for
 my hare phobia, as you very well
 know!

* I have forgotten one thing in your
 rabbit-hole, dude.

- That's what?

* Phobias. The strangest and most
 unusual and ridiculous phobias and
 fears that no person ever has or had.
 Come, little blue-eyed rabbit. 
 Uncle Bromford is not well today.
 He's not himself in moments like these. 
 Let's take a nice little walk down to
 the waterside. Would you like to see
 the Bromford Harbour Bridge, little rabbit?
 I would like to show it to you.

- Do you know what NG means, 
 animal? NG means not good, animal,
 not good.

 

🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖🆖

Today is Wednesday, the 13th of August, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 379 & Part 380

 

Today is Monday, the 11th of August, 2025.

Quiet now, all you furry and feathery folks, the tawny owl addressed the growing group of animals around him.

Growing group mostly consisting of cats, all the cats meowed.

I do not want your shenanigans tonight, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl, tonight is a night of high culture. Tonight is a night of opera and orchestra. Tonight is the night of Les Pechêurs des Perles - Au Fond du Bromford Saint. If we are all very, very quiet, we might even hear the sturgeons sing.

Are there any fish among us? the mosquitoes asked in terror.

Not yet, said the crickets, but the worst is yet to come.

We wonder why our guru is speaking Klingon all of a sudden, all the chicks wondered.

And the cats continued singing their shrieking cat music arias.

And the tawny owl whispered, That which does not kill us makes us stronger, said Friedrich Nietzsche.

And very quietly and silently eleven ninja-cats joined the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤🐱‍👤

"Les Pechêurs Des Perles - Au Fond Du Bromford Saint"

Au fond du Bromford saint
Parée de fleurs et d'or
Une femme apparaît!
Je crois la voir encore!
Une femme apparaît!
Je crois la voir encore!

La foule prosternée
La regarde, etonnée
Et murmure tous bas
Voyez, c'est la déesse!
Qui dans l'ombre se dresse
Et vers nous tend les bras!

Son voile se souleve!
Ô vision! Ô reve!
La foule est à genoux!

Oui, c'est elle!
C'est la déesse
Plus charmante et plus belle!
Oui, c'est elle!
C'est la déesse
Qui descend parmi nous!
Son voile se souleve et la foule est à genoux!

Mais à travers la foule
Elle s'ouvre un passage!
Son long voile dejà
Nous cache son visage!
Mon regard, hélas!
La cherche en vain!

Elle fuit!
Elle fuit!

Oui, c'est elle! C'est la deesse!
En ce jour qui vient nous unir
Et fidele à ma promesse
Comme un frère je veux te chérir!
C'est elle, c'est la déesse
Qui vient en ce jour nous unir!
Oui, partageons le meme sort

"Bromford Boy"

He's an ol' Bromford boy
Lying out there in the street
He's an ol' alter boy
Bound up in leather and chains
That's why I'm feeling so blue
I'm an old Bromford boy
What about you?

Now, I can order in Latin
Make 'em au gratin, Joe
I'm an old Bromford boy
That's why I'm so depressed
I never got the rest of the dream
Just the ritual
Now I'm habitual
Majoring in crimes that are unspeakable
'Cause I'm an old Bromford boy
That's what happened to me

I'm an old Bromford boy
He's hoping he can meet a woman dressed like a nun
He knows there's got to be some around here
Drinking across from the church
A little Father Cribari wine
On a Sunday morning time

Sturgeon Moon …

 
Sturgeon, styrġa, str̥Hxyón of the family Acipenseridae, the owl thought, diving deep into the night close to the river's steaming and glistening water-surface.

Acipenseridaephobia, came to his mind, not knowing where this thought was coming from.

And further he thought, Humans have been fishing you for thousands of years for your caviar and flesh. They have been stealing your unfertilized eggs, your unborn baby-fish.

And under the Sturgeon Moon the owl withdraw his talons of claws and stopped hunting for fish by the river.

🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕

Today is Saturday, the 9th of August, 2025.

Sturgeon Moon

Sister Moon, will be my guide
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you


Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak

How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?
You watch every night, you don't care what I do
I′d go out of my mind, but for you
I'd go out of my mind, but for you

Shadows Of The Past …

Today we are celebrating something.
Something started August, 8th, 2007.
Something came of age in a lot of countries today.
18 years old - the legal adulthood.
Celebrating the dates as they fall.

Whatever it is... Whatever remains...

Have a nice day…

🆙🆙🆙🆙🆙🆙🆙🆙

Today is Friday, the 8th of August, 2025.

Bromford and Seagull …

»Bromford, dude?«

»Yes, llama?«

»You are breaking the circle.«

»What circle?«

»You are leaving the row. Those birds originally weren't the next in line. Where did those seagulls come from?«

»Out of the blue.«

»I think, they even weren't on your list of possible next animal companion candidates. Where are you, dude? On vacation at the sea?«

»We are always at the sea, animal. Remember? Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside? Seagulls are everywhere. They are inevitable. They come out of the blue, sometimes out of the blue sky. They attack you. They steal your food. They especially like fries. Never eat fries at the seaside on a sunny day or on the roof-terrace, llama.«

»Okay.«

»And do you remember that seagull on that roof near the Sistine Chapel chimney at the Vatican during the last Papal Conclave when the whole world was watching that chimney waiting for black or white smoke? The seagull was looking straight into the cameras filming and photographing that chimney. It was the real star of that Conclave, regardless of coloured smoke. I bet it was carrying Pope Francis' soul on his way to heaven and carefully and critically watching over the election of Pope Leo.«

»Okay?«

»The more I think about it… maybe it was member of the Roman seagull mafia. And it was them - not all those red Cardinals - who elected Robert Francis Prevost as new head of the Catholic Church and sovereign of the Vatican City State, only because he is American, born in Chicago, and America is home of the greatest burgers and fries in the whole wide world. Oh, they especially like fries, those seagulls.«

»What is wrong with you, dude? Where does your new obsession with the Catholic Church and the Papal Conclave and especially seagulls come from all of a sudden?«

»Out of the blue, llama, all comes out of the blue. But today is Thursday, and Thursday is therapy day. I have been dealing a lot with my Larosphobia these days.«

»What phobia?«

»Larosphobia - the fear of somewhere, somehow being watched by a seagull. Not being attacked, not chased, just... watched. Silently. Judging. Just looking in your general direction.«

»Oh, my goodness, dude! What happened to your Anatidaephobia?«

»My what, animal?«

»Anatidaephobia - the fear of somewhere, somehow being watched by a duck? Not being attacked, not chased, just... ducked?«

»THERE IS A DUCK WATCHING ME???

I feel good.
I feel great.
I feel wonderful.

I feel good.
I feel great.
I feel wonderful.«

And high above the flat roof of the little penthouse on top of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, the seagulls are flying in circles and singing their unmusical chants,

»Mine? Mine? Mine! Mine!«

🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒

Today is Thursday, the 7th of August, 2025.

Bromford and Mammoth …

 

On the dark brown kitchen table stands a round white cup filled with the darkest blackest tar.

»It's not tar, dear«, says a friendly female mammoth dressed up like a diner waitress. »It's just black coffee.«

»And it is the damned best coffee in the whole wide Western hemisphere«, the llama adds. »This is, excuse me, a damn fine cup of coffee, Norma.«

»It is tar«, I insist. »And it is thousands of years old. And it holds the DNA of those ancient mammoths they have cloned our waitress of.«

The two animals are ignoring me, starting a private conversation of their own.

»I have heard he is writing a book«, the mammoth lady says, asking the llama at the same time, »Another cup of coffee, dear?«

I lift the round white cup from the table gazing into its plain black surface like into a mirror. I could swear I saw a young, blonde woman's face on that surface only moments ago, like a spirit trapped in tar.

I turn the full cup upside down and no liquid spills onto the kitchen table. So much for coffee, my ass, my donkey. It is either tar or frozen solid.

As I look again, the blonde girl's reflection - or spirit - is gone.

»Yes«, I can hear the llama say, »he's writing a novel and he wants to call it

'Life and Adventures of Bromford Bibble'.

And I would like to add the following subtitle,

'… or One Man's Descent into Madness'.«

And I cannot stop thinking, »Who killed Norma Palmer? Who killed Norma Palmer? Who killed Norma Palmer? …«

🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕

Today is Tuesday, the 5th of August, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 377 & Part 378

 

Today is Sunday, the 3rd of August, 2025

Ah, all caterpillars enthused, the town of love, romantic costumes and neverending carnivals.

We cannot wait to ride a gondola through the canals with a singing gondolier, sighed the scorpions.

More like the town of stinking waters and rotting buildings, a group of three pouting cats dampened the other animals'  enthusiasm. And now they even charge admission for that. It's a disgrace, a real scandal. The greatest scam in history.

Have you ever been to this town before? Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl asked.

No, the three cats pouted, but we smelled it from a thousand miles away, this rotten stink of selling out the town's history. Good, that it is going to sink into the sea more sooner than later. Maybe the salty waters can wash away all the sins of the past and present.

Life must be understood backward, but it must be lived forward, said Søren Kierkegaard, thinks the tawny owl and turns his head in circles.

And so the three pouting cats joined the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smile, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitos, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…

😾😾😾

"Blue Room In Bromford"

I can see you through a pool of darkness
I stretch out my hand to reach you
I know you are there
So please look at me
How I′ve missed you
How I've missed love
My hand is here

If you still know me
Then touch my fingertips

I see the waters move above your face
I feel your naked hand
Please don′t let it go again

Your sacrifice
That meant so much
Left us with no place to stand
Please let me touch
And let me near
Let me near

"Bromford"

You said you wrote a letter
That you will send from Germany
It’s gonna fly through the sky over the deepest seas
When it’s on the way to me
I’ll be waiting for you

I wanna know what you will say
And if you will say it gently
It’s been a while, I wondered why and now it’s clear to see
With your words in front of me
I’ve been waiting for you

But I will move along
And try to carry on
If there’s no more me and you
No more Bromford

You have held my hand, you have kissed my face
Further on down this road we will come to a place
We both know

I slowly read the words you typed
One time, two times, yeah maybe three
But I skipped the part where you said your heart was too wild and free
For somebody like me
If you don’t want me, then i’ll stop waiting for you

Yeah I will move along
And try to carry on
If there’s no more me and you 
I will go and find a place
So high and far away
I’ll buy a ticket to the moon

You have held my hand, you have kissed my face
Further on down this road we will come to a place
Now you hold my heart in some sacred space
Further on down this road we have come to a place
We both know we can’t stay

So I will move along
And try to carry on
No more me and you
No more Bromford