PAJMAG : The studio blogzine of Peter Andrew Jones

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"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Winter issue now available.

And, preparations begin, right away, for the Spring issue!

The festivities ended, I encouraged my sister, in not too gentle a manner, to leave asap.

She had succeeded in upsetting the Cook and the Housekeeper.
The horses were unsettled and inclined to kick.

She rode roughshod over the feelings of the garden residents and, most importantly, brushed off the notion of Witchcraft and magick spells, even when faced with irrefutable evidence.

The Goblin and the Gremlin altered the route of their walk, the Flower Faeries brushed and groomed the Unicorn deep within the wood.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat swam in the lake or, because the Mermaid was a friend, in “her” woodland pond.

The Owl was untouched by her arrogance.

And - the Weasel, Stoat and Mole stayed underground.

To reiterate once again:

She had been warned against antagonising the Elves, Imps and Pixies, but t’was debatable as to whether or not she had listened.

She had not.

Thus, her bedroom suite was ransacked, her Aston Marten trashed and her possessions pitched into ditches, muddy streams and the lake....

Debbie & Peter

"TWEEN YULE AND NEW LIGHT"

The studio is back to its usual hectic pace.

Time to conclude a lengthy project of multiple pieces.

Tho . . . . some distracting obligations still deter . . . . .

I had been to tea with a great aunt of mine, an elderly, autocratic, lady of character.

Her word was law, let no one gain say her.

I did my duty by visiting her once a year.

More than that and I found myself in sore need of a holiday.

T’was necessary to check every corner of the car on that day, to ensure that no Elf, Imp or Pixie had hidden himself anywhere.

The last thing I needed was a silly trick to be played upon my great aunt, who possessed not a jot of good humour or liking for jokes.

T’would create a very bad atmosphere for which I’d be held responsible.

Yuletide had passed with its ups and down downs and I was relieved to get through it still in one piece.

Now, alas, it was back to the grindstone of rush jobs from my agent....

Debbie & Peter

"IN A LAND OF MYTH & LEGEND"

Soon, light will break over the hill.

Explorations will begin anew.

As this issue ships, we begin, already, to prepare for the next.

Paint to make, pencils to prepare, paper and wood panel to order-in.

Sketchbooks to make and bind.

And, rucksacks to kit out for . . . . trips to plan.

Because the creative cauldron never ceases boiling . . . . .

The Frog, the Toad and the Water Rat were exercising their limbs in the ice free garden pond.

This pond had been cleared of proliferating reeds and the water refreshed, but chill chill.

The fish swam way down in the depths, having had the misfortune to encounter the Elves, themselves fervent swimmers.

The pond in the wood was also congested and sorely in need of a buck up.

The long suffering Mermaid was loath to complain and instead, sang mournfully of a soft shelled salt water relative.

The Goblin and the Gremlin had become bored with the sight of those same four walls of their respective homes.

Neither were out and abouters, but, nevertheless, they did enjoy a daily change of scene.

The Flower Faeries continued to groom the Unicorn, tinting his skin, mane and tail in electrifying colours and cutting his mane and tail in swell styles.

The Cook had been given time off, but refused to take it.
Ditto the Housekeeper.

In lieu of a break, I’d decided to invite the ladies to share Christmas luncheon with me in the under used dining room, where the dining table, I knew, would be laid with immaculate precision.

For what more could one ask?

Debbie & Peter

YULE WILL PASS, IMBOLG IS COMING"

Yule will pass, Imbolg will be here sooner than you think . . . . . .

The full picture of the land begins to show - slowly.

A hush had fallen over the clouded world.

My brain cleared as the debris in my head fell away.
T’was as though my visual acuity had sharpened and expanded tenfold.

I stood as though turned to stone, mind and soul spent.

My legs began to move forwards t’wards the stable/garage.
Would I chose a gallop or a fast drive up country?

The gallop won.

We rode cross country, traversing meadows, fields and the fallow lands, trotting and cantering, galloping, jumping.

Schedules, duties, deadlines erased from the white board of my mind, usually scrawled with “mathematical” formulations - do or don’t bother?

High tea at 5 o’clock, cocktails at 7, a mini snack at 8 o’clock, brandy and bed.

The leftover food was arranged upon the kitchen table, in readiness for the Elves, Pixies and Imps, the Witch, the Goblin and Gremlin.

The Flower Faeries had prepared a simple repast and Yuletide crackers and sparklers completed the picture.

The evening was whoopee, the guests, with exceptions, civil.

The Witch did the washing up, the Goblin dried and the Gremlin packed them, higgledy piggledy, into cupboards and glass cabinets....

Debbie & Peter

"YULE WILL PASS, BUT CELEBRATE IT IN FULL WHILE HERE."

As the days begin their slow advance to being longer, the scene unfolds.

We see more of the land, and we see the way forward, be it stream or far hill.

Rush, rush activity.
The Yule tide had been upon us.
Time to call a halt to getting in touch.

My sister did, actually, phone on the day, which was surprising considering I’d refused to invite her to stay here.

The garden residents had their own, individual ways, of celebrating the festival, which included: omitting the overconsumption of food and the playing of party games with over excited offspring.

The giving of gifts was kept to the minimum by them all.

The Ogre, in desperation, had slammed out of the house and come here.

The Witch had not had the time to cook him breakfast, so, she put one together by magick.

The Goblin and Gremlin were exercising their limbs, stretching and walking and hop, skipping, jumping in their usual, uncoordinated, style.

The Unicorn had not visited, being a guest of the Dragon’s.

The Wizard had touched down briefly to greet the Witch.

The Flower Faeries were staying with the Faeries of the wood and the Elves, Pixies and Imps with family or relatives, making their lives difficult instead of our’s.

My day had been blissfully quiet.

I had ensconced myself in the Library in my favourite armchair, after a leisurely ride along the country lanes.

The Cook and Housekeeper had insisted upon coming in.
T’would be more restful here than at home, they averred.

The Head Gardener later told me that he, too, wished that he stayed.
So much noise and kerffufle had given him a sore head....

Debbie & Peter

"HERE'S HOPING YOU ALL HAD A GREAT CHRISTMAS!"

Yule is fully upon us, dark days will recede, warmth will be coming . . . .

And the garden residents can sense this already, as indeed can we also.

As the mists begin to lift, the land of Myth and Legend starts to unveil itself again . . .

I dreamt last night that I had visited Camelot, where the fields were scintillatingly green, and the meadows were bursting with sweetly scented wild flowers.

If you looked, you could see that, hidden under the hedgerows, wild herbs grew.

The forests and woods were thick with ancient trees, deep, dark and eerie if one ventured through them.

There were glades, there were streams, there was wild life aplenty.
Boar to be hunted, rabbits to trap.

As I cantered, under trees, pushed through bushes, I encountered King Arthur with his inamorata, the Lady Guinevere.

Guilt was written all over their faces.

However, I looked the other way and the moment of self conscious embarrassment passed.

Exiting the wood, I narrowly avoided a family of Gnomes, of Gremlins and Pixies.

Faeries flew with the birds, a Hawk hovered above them.
From the wood an Owl hooted and a Wizard emerged, phantom like from an Oak.

A new planted Chestnut tree metamorphosed into a Witch and a miniature dragon alighted upon the dew covered earth.

A Unicorn whinnied and neighed as he soared just above the tree tops on this chill winter day.

I trod the muddy paths of this magickal place till I woke.

And then realised . . . . it had not been a dream at all . . . . .

Debbie & Peter

"A VERY, VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!"

We were awoken by much scraping noises and grunting.

Santa had arrived on time.

But; he'd got stuck in the chimney and his toes were busy frying on the hearth logs.

Just for once, the residents pulled together (literally) and yanked him down and out.

Once he'd dusted himself off he thanked us profusely..

We each got an extra present for our efforts.

I'm sure I'll find something to do with a set of discarded Reindeer antlers in due course . . . .

Debbie & Peter

"HAPPY ALMOST CHRISTMAS"

The garden residents are busy . . . .

Preparing for Santa's arrival.

Happy almost Christmas to all!

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Winter issue now available.

“By your leave, my dear sir, I shall move to the best bedchamber. T’is less than comfortable in the room I am presently occupying.”

Thus spake the house ghost in his Early Middle English.

I had been studying the changes to this island’s language and felt reasonably knowledgeable, reasonably able to understand.

I told him politely that, from time to time, he would have to vacate it for house guests or family.

He said aught.

I wandered downstairs and out through the front door.
Every garden resident was present today.

The Witch, the Wizard and his forgetful Wizard friend were conducting a lesson in “how to cast easy spells.”

The Witch was utilising a mini cauldron and the scent of its contents rose paradisiacally into the wintery air.

There, the spells met a soft breeze and flew every which way.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps watched brièvement then sidled away surreptitiously to do je ne sais quoi.

Late, late that night I awoke and went downstairs to find the breakfast room door slightly ajar.

In the garden Candlelight flickered brightly.

The garden residents were seated upon ground sheets and blankets taking part in a Yule tide meditation.

I could see that the Elves had only half closed their eyelids and sat holding their breath, poised to pick pocket their friends and acquaintances as soon as maybe.

The Ogre had not been permitted to attend.

The Elves slipped to their feet and abstracted cloth bags.
Lockett split they were full of small treasures.

The Pixies and the Imps felt their cheeks redden, their tempers rise.
Exasperation was writ all over their faces.

They jumped to their feet, snatched the bags from the Elves whose noses they punched and restored these pocket size treasures to their rightful owners...

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Winter issue now available.

The Pixies and Imps were feeling rebellious.
The Elves were ahead of them.
They were already thus.

The Witch had adopted a “headman” role and reduced the garden residents to commonplace proletariat.

She had received an Honorary award from the Fantasy Land University, which included a substantial sum of tax free money.

The Wizard brushed off this unusual behaviour, saying, “All things pass. This, too, will pass.”

The Flower Faeries were knee deep in dutiful business.

The Ogre was OK so long as he had his breakfast.

The Frog, the Toad and the Water Rat went away for a wee small break and the Weasel, Stoat and Mole huddled cosy in a rabbit burrow.

They’d poke their noses above ground again when the Witch returned down to earth, so to speak.

The Unicorn and the Dragon conferred in secret and the forgetful Wizard simply chuckled.

He continued to visit from time to time, brought along by his friend, our Wizard.

He continued to interact with the Witch and her arrogance, for the most part, floated, invisible, over his head.

The day did arrive when he put his foot in his mouth and told the Witch, who’d offended him, just what he thought of her.

Her temper erupted, but the forgetful Wizard stood rocklike and merely stared at her, bored.

Without warning he gave a Bronx cheer, turned smartly upon his heel and stomped off.

The Witch’s superior manner evaporated....

Debbie & Peter

""SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

Snowbound Ridge".

The junior Elves, Pixies and Imps had broken up from school for the holidays.

“Yippee” for them, “what to do?” for their parents.

The Goblin and the Gremlin had decided to celebrate a minimalistic Yule tide.

“Quite how, we’ve no idea,” was their worry.

The Flower Faeries were to observe their regular regime and party from dusk until late.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat felt at one with the world if the water of either the garden pond or the lake glittered crystal clear and attractively ice clear.

The Witch and the Wizard were voyaging abroad to the Islands of Rockingborg Skerry.

The Island was sparsely populated, quiet as a Mouse, which was just as it should be, they asserted.

The Ghosts and Spectres were “at home” for the twelve days of Yule tide as were the ghostly Wolves, Wolverines and the dogs....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue now launching!.

Printing underway.

I could find nobody!

What?!

Then I saw a scrawled note, written in Faerie language, stuck to the gate.

I have learned Faerie language over the last couple of years, mainly to keep abreast of the shenanigans that go on behind my back in the garden (what, you think I didn't know what you were up to ?).

Anyway, translating the message, I noted that it said >

"We see that you are now printing and then shipping your quarterly magazine.

This means, we note from previous issues of the magazine, humongous workload, so, we've disappeared into the mist, so that we don't get roped into the production process and shipping efforts.

We know that we are being selfish, but, blame it on the Ogre, he came up with the idea and, well, we felt pressured intro agreeing.

The Unicorn has, reluctantly, agreed to help out with shipping if you really get in a jam, but he's not that keen, really.

Sorry 'bout that.

See you, well, whenever . . . . . . . "

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue now launching!.

Printing underway.

The Wizard of Pruw Swesh had come to call on his way to the ends of the earth.

He was fabulously garbed, his grey white beard freshly washed.
By now
t’was grown down to his knotted boney knees.

His hat was pointed and one foot high and upon his feet were a pair of silver grey cowboy boots.

Though our Wizard professed to care not, we were aware that something was amiss.

He frowned, chewed his lip, muttered and sniffed.

The Wizard of Prew Swesh walked and talked with the residents.
He was not condescending, but proud of his standing.

To our Wizard he had nothing to say, apart from the usual formal pleasantries.

The garden residents fussed about in the background eager to watch the unfolding scenario.

The Flower Faeries spun out their grooming of the Unicorn, paying extra special attention to every fine detail.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps kept our of sight in the wood, but the Ogre let everyone down by
stomping into the garden bent upon usurping the leading role.

The Wizards disappeared in purple puffs of smoke....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Final editorial!

What?!

Where IS everyone?

Ah, I see . . . . .

The mist had decended again overnight, heavy, and blanket-like.

As I looked out of the kitchen window, I could see nothing, nobody.

That, in itself, was more worrying than the antics the residents normally got up to.

I decided to hide, for the rest of the day.

That seemed by far the best activity I could feel secure with . . . .

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Final editorial!

My sister had arrived in high dudgeon.

Her temper was positively stalagmite.

She ranted and stormed, slammed doors and cried, has never properly explained the reasons why.

One reason, I think, was that someone had tailgated her, all the way from her new home to my old one.

Her visit elongated, till one moist sunny morning, I let her know that enough was enough.

I surprised myself.

The Goblin and the Gremlin had kept out of view this time.

The Flower Faeries pursued their daily chores in a far corner of the garden.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat spent the greater part of the day at the pond in the wood with the Mermaid.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps were generally immune to scaredness, but ever they couldn’t “get their heads around” her.

Che serà, serà....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Final editorial!

Calligraphy Mole, as a guest, was holidaying at the less wintery end of the garden.

The less wintery end of the garden boasted much deeper, more complex, underground burrows, though, das Wichtisgiste ist, the soil being well kept and fertile, there were oodles of soil beetles to eat.

Calligraphy Mole was a scholar and an expert in the art of calligraphy.

His expertise was much sought after, and he employed a Staff of seven.

One was a quill pen sharpener;
one a Private Secretary;
one a general Office Boy;
one a maker of especial Mole drinks.

One was a cook;
one a chauffeur and one stepped in if required.

The Weasel, the Stoat and the aged Mole were overawed by this distinguished scholar.

They accosted him and plied him with questions whenever the occasion arose.

The birds of Rhiannon serenaded him, the Owl debated or simply conversed with him.

The Witch made him bowls of magickal insect gruel when he went down with a chill or flu or simply, felt overworked and besieged....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Final editorial!

Paddington Bear was visiting his pals in the garden and. as per usual, was armed with his favourite marmalade sandwiches, for breakfast, lunch, and tea and any snacks in between.

His delight in the company of the garden residents made his visits red letter occasions.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps were inclined to superciliousness and the Owl rarely acknowledged his presence.

However, the Goblin and Gremlin basked in his, celebrity and the Flower Faeries had an affectionate, a soft spot for him.

The Witch advised him on how to run his life;
which advice he never did listen to.

The Weasel, the Stoat and the aged Mole found him to be “a good egg” and the Frog, Toad and Water Rat, who had taught him the doggy paddle, took him for swims in the pond and (sort of), hops around the garden.

The Wizard had, from time to time, permitted Paddington Bear to ride upon his magick carpet.

The Unicorn, too, was most generous in inviting him to gallop through Space, hanging on to his mane for dear life....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Final editorial!

A gnome had been found by the Ogre, wandering lost and forlorn through the fields.

He’d travelled from a land called The Moving Fields, which floated upon a still forming, plate tectonic.

The Toad, the Frog and the Water Rat watched the Gnome sway side to side, like an inebriated sailorman.

The forthright Witch took his arm, sat him down and put her hands on his shoulders to settle him.

The Flower Faeries perched lightly upon his head, ears and hat.

They crooned softly and tweaked his long white beard, soothing him, soothing him, soothing him.

The Owl was agitated, rattled, shook up.

Sleep had eluded him, he was ready to snap.

The gnome took heed of his odd behaviour and pulled himself up, got his act together.

He remained in the Fantastical garden overnight, then commenced the journey to Les Bois de Chaos....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Printers at the ready!

The ancient Roman Watling Street was alive with echoes of calcie boots, marching relentlessly ever onward and everywhere, to retain public order and to ensure, a non violent security for the Roman populace.

I could hear the echoes and flashes of armour, but the soldiers, themselves, were ghosts in the mist.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps marched to the rear, as ever out of time and out of step, but, the military music they played did hark back to pre-history.

The Flower Faeries watched astride the Unicorn.

The Witch and the Ogre remained protectively hidden.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat itched to spectate, but they, too, hid themselves away lest, the soldiers of the Roman Legion ate them raw - as a snack on the move....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Printers at the ready!

Rather than acknowledge that I had won that round, the Elves, Pixies and Imps transferred their “play time” to my sister’s favourite guest room.

They picnicked on the rugs, despite ignoring the wooden floor, used the guest towels to clean their plates and glasses, the bedsheets as napkins.

They stole the handpicked beauty products to sell on and oft fell sleep on the four poster bed.

Magazines and books were tossed upon the floor, the coffee, tea and biscuits placed beside the bed disappeared chop chop.

There was little we could do and the Witch’s spell had been specific.

The day arrived when the Housekeeper received a call.
My sister would be arriving for yet another short break.

The Housekeeper set to without delay to reorganise the room.

The bedroom suite was fumigated, cleaned from top to toe, repainted and redecorated, the furniture polished till it shone.

By the time my sister drew up every detail had been overseen.
She extended her short break, extended and again.

The day dawned when we had had enough, but she was keen to stay still longer.

However.
Even she could not misinterpret the look upon my face....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Printers at the ready!

The Goblin and the Gremlin were putting a zip into their walks., striding through the garden much faster than I was.

The Witch had transferred herself to a room in the cellar, with an open fire, large chimney, swept clean, up which her spells could travel.

The Goblin and Gremlin were permitted to watch, the Flower Faeries never refused entrance.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat never entered the house and the Unicorn preferred to chomp the grass.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps gained entrance whatever and when they did, as you know, utter chaos ensued.

I had never thought to request of the Witch that she cast a daily spell or even, spells for me.

Would they work or would they not?
Or
was I involved in an employ which would always require a full commitment?

Early one morning, lying abed, I suddenly felt that the moment had arrived.

I considered awhile and nothing occurred to me.

At breakfast, sipping my coffee, a light went on in my head.

Could the Witch cast a spell which would effectively put paid to the Elves, Pixies and Imps breaking into my bedroom and bathroom, indeed, put paid to their visits to the upper floors, full stop?

The Witch was consulted and agreed to read through her book of spells and find the most suitable example.

T’was two days later.

I was on my way upstairs when I heard a bang upon the front door.
I descended the stairs and opened it cautiously.
The Witch stood outside clasping her heavy spell book to her chest.

She entered and walked to t’wards the breakfast room, sat down.
She placed the book in table and sat back expectantly.

She had done her research and found something.

The next day at sundown, she was still in the garden, fire lit, cauldron fizzing.
With a gurgle and pop, a spell emerged and sped off towards the house and straight through the closed front door.

Funnily enough, the Elves and their friends did enter the house and head up the stairs to my bedroom.

They arrived at the door and, astounding, astonishingly, stood as though turned to stone.

We would have to experiment, but, the Witch assured us, the spell should continue effective time after time after time....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Printers at the ready!

The garden residents were met together beneath the Oak, for the Goddess of the Earth, Gaia, was expected to visit.

The Kings of the Oak and the Oak would accompany her, though they loathed and detested each other.

Gaia has lost the greater part of her power and must be finding it virtually impossible to
nurture and sustain her priceless flora and fauna.

Humankind has taken over and mishandled or destroyed Earth’s lands, seas and oceans, although it still insists, nay demands, to remain in charge, as overlord and ruler of everything.

Nevertheless, I do feel that, Gaia’s brief moments of anger thus far have increased and taking on evermore fearsome expression.

Gaia’s visit had been eagerly awaited and appreciated.

She didn’t rush or hurry or ignore any resident.

I was apprised of the details late in the evening, when I went outside to smoke a cigar....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE"

Next issue on the near horizon.

Printers at the ready!

One doesn’t know the thoughts of trees or grass, of clouds, of mud or rain.

Walking along puddled country lanes with the dogs, I reflected upon all manner of ridiculous things.

Once home, the dogs would have to have a thorough hose and scrub and I, prevent a flying
escape.

The Witch did offer to assist, to cast a spell which would impel obedient cooperation from them.

No.

The Flower Faeries finally resolved the issue by grooming the Unicorn in the stable/garage,
from where they flew down to the kitchen, to assemble the requisite tools and utensils.

When the dogs had muddied the entrance hall, they paddled downstairs to the kitchen for warmth.

The Flower Faeries soothed them and gave them doggy biscuits, after which, they launched in upon giving them a bath.

Their dexterity and gentleness and calm resolution resulted in clean dogs, little mess and the non-upsetting of the volatile Cook....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

"The Dark Sunset".

It was one of those, almost, springlike days of pale sunlight and a faint hearted warmth.

Still, I caught one of the youngster Pixies playing shadow games all by himself.

His peers had been taken to a Pixie Pottery which employed any number of their fathers, brothers and cousins.

T’was the custom for their mothers, aunts and sisters to stay home and devote their time to “the kids.”

I watched for awhile, then turned to go when, a buzzard swooped down from out of the clouds.

He was headed straight for Pixie Jnr.

What instincts could possibly be driving it, I wondered and hastened t’wards the intended prey.

Scooping him up, I shielded my face and awaited the, doubtless, painful attack.

The buzzard hurtled earthwards but suddenly swerved and flew off over the trees to the fields beyond.

The Pixie ran home to mummy for a cuddle, cookie and coconut milk....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

The Warlock In Spite Of Himself.

Mayflower Paperback - 1974

One of my very first . . . . . .

The Elves had got hold of a kaleidoscope from somewhere and were taking turns at viewing the moving pictures within.

The Flower Faeries also wanted to take a turn, but the kaleidoscope was too wide for their tiny fingers to manipulate.

The Witch still possessed her own childhood kaleidoscope and, when bored with the pictures, conjured a new set.

The Unicorn had the spectacular Universes to savour and the Mermaid preferred to close her eyes and dream.

The Wizard could look down upon Mother Earth from his cloud home and the Frog and the Toad anyway, could see colours at night.

The Water Rat could only perceive a hint of blue, green and the ultraviolets and the Weasel, Stoat and Mole had other, more interesting interests.

The Cook and Housekeeper were busy indoors and I was, quite frankly, not interested....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

A small painting inspired by the last gasps of Autumn.

Mother nature had arranged the composition for me!

All I needed to do, was paint it.

And then do something with it >

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_stretton.htm

Magic.

But then, we do live in a magic place.

The Faerie Queen Godda and the Welsh Queen Rhiannon were taking tea together in a castle built upon a cloud.

Their spouses were absent, both enmeshed in battles and the ladies were free to do as they pleased.

Each day began with a ride ‘cross the heavens, their fillies galloping head to head.

Upon returning to the castle they partook of cherry blossom tea and miniature Faerie biscuits.

Each was skilled at crocheting and sewing, embroidery and the designing of equestrian habits.

The Lord Edric was absent for four months all told and his return was greeted with a military parade.

Pwyll, however, continued ever after, to suffer the travails of purposelessness....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

A new visitor this morning..

Seemed undecided whether to eat wild mushrooms that have sprung up..

Decision enabled by rival creature picking fight.

Them we heard a distant hunting horn.

Off they flew - startled.

So , in the end, neither ate the wild mushrooms.

The hunting season was in full swing and the baying of the hounds rang clear across the land.

My sister was taking a few days off work and had chosen to visit ‘cos she knew she’d be spoilt.

She was always given the best bedroom suite in the house and, within certain limits, permitted to say what she pleased.

The garden residents, she felt, received too much attention, the Witch utterly unnerved her.

The Flower Faeries she found plain silly.

Only the Unicorn appeared to be an exception.

I do know that she had pleaded, many a time and unsuccessfully, to be given a ride to blank Space and back.

Absolutely no!!

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

"Do you know what battlements are?

"The battlements are the openings and alternate with the merlons and in a wall it is common that there are still loopholes, narrower spaces for better shooting and protection of defenders.

I didn't know that until I created that letter.

Simulacra is culture :)
And "battlements" in English is..... THE BATTLEMENTS

(Pedro Panhoca, creator, "SIMULACRA" - The Card Game).

I was indulging in a frothy cappuccino complete with marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles.

Seated in the picture window of the market town’s best Coffee House, neither reading nor writing - just chilling.

As I rose reluctantly to my feet, I saw reflected in a large mirror, the Elves, Pixies and Imps having an 11.00 o’clock snack in the back room of this, not inexpensive, coffee shop.

They were remarkably quiet and appeared to be minding their manners, being polite?!

Very unusual and worrying.

I exited quickly and crossed to my car, got in and prepared to drive home.
Silence....

Got out again.

I lifted the hood, inspected the engine and discovered that the Elves, Pixies and Imps had dismantled and repositioned nearly every component part.

The local bus saved the day.

I organised repairs with the local garage, left the keys and walked to the bus stop.

Keeping my temper had given me a headache, almost a migraine and I wanted desperately to get home and retire to bed.

The bus was on time and, as soon as I entered the house, I ordered the household to, once again, change the locks, seal the windows and ensure that the Elves, Pixies and Imps were padlocked into one of the cellar rooms....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Definitely the last gasp of Autumn.

but still offering subtle choices of palette.

Even decay offers a route to visual influence.

And painting pleasure!

Richenda, Lady of the House of Withumadeshthe, was high born but, shy and introverted, inclined towards melancholia.

Morning, noon and early evening, she wandered alone ‘cross her father’s far reaching estate.

She had always listened dutifully to her parent’s oft repeated words, “Unmarried ladies of high birth are forbidden to walk out sans an older female relative or chaperone.”

And . . . .

disobeyed.

T’was a late autumnal day, unprepossessingly grey, when she set off on that ill fated walk.

The earth beneath her feet was muddily moist, the grass sparkled bright with frost.

The slippers upon her feet were of gossamer silk, her dress and cloak of lilac and pink satin.
No item of her apparel was suitable for the winter weather that momentarily prevailed.

The moisture quickly permeated her slippers and dirtied the hems of her dress and cloak.

The chill frostiness crept through her skin to her bones, her teeth chattered and she shivered and shook like a leaf.

She walked slowly, without thought, through field and meadow to the lake and there halted, to stare sadly into the crystal clear water.

The snow laden clouds were reflected in the waters, as were the superabundance of birds.

She stared at the reflections of her face, her knee length hair and the tears streamed down her cheeks, nose and chin.

With a shrug of her shoulders and a twisted smile, she walked into the water, fell forward and floated face down.

When a search party found her, she was floating on her back and the expression upon her face was pure serenity....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

The first painting I made of the area when I moved into the new studio.

1999, I think.

Caer Caradoc (pronounced "Kara-dog" in Welsh.
Caer Caradog in Welsh meaning Caradog's fort.

Local legend suggests it is the site of the Battle of Caer Caradoc, last stand of King Caractacus against the mighty Roman legions during their conquest of Britain, and that after the battle he hid a the cave near its summit, (although friends of mine say that Merlin is walled-up in "Merlin's Cave" there, and you can still hear him wailing inside as you pass by . . . . . .

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_stretton.htm

The curlicue Mouse had corkscrew shaped whiskers, a wrinkly snout and almond shaped eyes.

In similar vein to my nephew when young, he rushed thither and yon.
When his energy was spent he’d collapse in a heap and sleep wherever he found himself.

He, Wylisc the dragon and the Unicorn had straightaway become bosom friends.

Their alliance could have endured for infinity but, subsequently each, at one time or another, chose to follow a different path.

The curlicue Mouse had no given name and usually responded to Corkscrew.
If caught on the hop, he’d spin like a top, stop for two seconds and wait.

His ears would twitch, his nose would snuffle and he’d remain quivering on the spot as if to listen.

The Unicorn gave him rides through this Universe and some others and once took him on a tour of Alpha Centauri.

Smoking in the garden one bitterly cold night, I chanced to see Corkscrew running hell for leather.

He launched himself into the wide blue yonder and that was the last time I ever laid eyes on him....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Another wonderful creature, strutting around opposite the studio.

Is that a cheeky grin on its face?

Draw!
Must!
Did!
In book!

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/shop_inventory_books.htm

The Goblin was reciting Lord Byron’s long poem, titled, “The Destruction of Sennacherib.”

He stood, eyes closed, as the light drizzle fell, completely absorbed in the words and the rhythm.

The Wizard was impressed, the Flower Faeries, too, although they understood not one word, the rhythm did appeal.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps were transfixed by the power of the rhythm, the words and the subject matter, “battle.”

The Unicorn, uneasy, pawed the wet earth.
He shook his head, snorted and flicked his docked tail.
He’d been a spectator to some nasty battles in times long ago.

The Ghosts and Spectres drifting past, listened with half an ear.

Among the male Ghosts were a substantial number who had died upon a field of battle.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat bounced into view and the listeners withdrew their attention from the Goblin.

I wandered into the garden as the poem ended.

The Goblin and the Gremlin were alone, abandoned....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Omnivore by Piers Anthony.

Corgi Paperback - 1977

The Dragon had adopted as friend,
a medium sized dragon of attractive mien.

He had a wonky nose and large eyes, a pair of short, blunt horns and a pair of delicate wings protruded from each side of his head.

He was innocence personified until he couldn’t get his way.

The Dragon had found him lost in Space and had
named him Wallace or
Wylisc the Prune.
This because of his tendency to tie himself in knots.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps enjoyed his company.
He seemed not to mind when they teased him or played silly,
oft ridiculous tricks to
distract him.

The Witch attended to his health and well being and
the
Wizard acted as chaperone when Wylisc journeyed through Space - when and if, t’was
possible.

He and the Unicorn formed an alliance, to which
alliance was eventually added
the curlicue Mouse?!

Continuing....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

"Oh oh, magic always imitating us..."

THE SWAMP

Wednesday morning at 4 am, the Wizard arrived - by cable.

The Witch couldn’t get her head around his ridiculous choice of utilising this inefficient, outdated, mode of transport.

He merely laughed?!

The Unicorn had been sprayed a light pale pink.

Mane and tail was cut short and dyed a lemon yellow and wine red.

Citrine and topaz jewels were threaded through both.

Elves, Pixies and Imps chortled, the Flower Faeries smiled and the crows screeched their derision.

The Ghosts and the Spectres let their displeasure be known and the Owl refused to be drawn.

When the Cook was given the final say, she tossed her apron over her face and snorted.

T’was, through and through a let down....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

As mentioned in an earlier post . . .
I never, ever, tire, of observing the world around me.

This wonderful creature, strutting around opposite the studio.

Just look at the expression?!

I just had to draw it, and, indeed, it ended up in a book.

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/shop_inventory_books.htm

An artist friend had come to stay to rest and recuperate, having recently completed a series of paintings.

The collectors of his artworks had suddenly awoken after what had seemed to him to have been an 100-year sleep.

Commissions had rained down upon his head in torrents.

The artist was unsure about the garden residents, with no inclination t’wards the fantastical or magickal.

He was surprised to find how much he enjoyed conversing with Goblin and Gremlin.

The Witch unnerved him, the Wizard was too domineering and the Elves, Pixies and Imps drove him close to a breakdown.

The Flower Faeries he scarcely noticed, nor Frog, Toad and Water Rat, the dogs he could cope with. As for the cats, he gave them the cold shoulder.

He was left, more or less, to his own devices, though I did stipulate that he be on time for meals!

The Unicorn he’d encountered very early one morning, he told me, whilst smoking his one cigarette of the day.

It was friendship on sight - immediate.

The Unicorn allowed the artist to sketch him, render a magickal (?!), fantasy background.

Somehow or another, my friend hit the jackpot and the painting, in the pre-raphaelite style, sold for over one million pounds sterling....

Debbie & Peter

"SOMETHING'S GONNA HAPPEN . . . ."

Yep, definitely.

Stay tuned . . . . . . to the blogzine

The Ogre had taken up weightlifting.

He kept the weights in a shed in the weed filled garden, which lay at the back of his mother’s house.

He grunted and strained as he carried out his routine, which took place three times a week, however, he then consumed the Witch’s gargantuan breakfast, which she thought was counterproductive.

She held her tongue in order to keep the peace.

The Goblin and Gremlin preferred Zumba classes, the Flower Faeries, aerial acrobatics.
The Frog, Toad and Water Rat, would, naturally, swim fast as fast, fast as they possibly could.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies loved archery.

The Mermaid practised various diving techniques and sometimes swam from early morning till twilight.

The birds of Rhiannon were perpetually on the move and the crows spent their energy fighting and cawing.

I read, researched and wrote....

Debbie & Peter

"SOMETHING'S GONNA HAPPEN . . . ."

What could it be?

Stay tuned . . . . . . to the blogzine

The Elves, Pixies and Imps had devised a coffee drinking competition with the following stipulations:

The consumption of the artificial, man made product was prohibited and
Those who participated in the competition had to drink from China blue, porcelain, cups.

T’was, truth to tell, only the Flower Faeries and Witch, who were skilled in the art of creating coffees which possessed, a taste one would willingly “die for.”

The Ogre, supposedly, didn’t like tea or coffee, but consumed cup after cup, sub rosa.

I had used to drink quantities of the loverly stuff and the result had been almost entirely negative?!

My sister drank strong tea with a splash of milk.
And coffee?

One cup at breakfast, otherwise, (dinner parties excepted),
she turned up her nose.

The Goblin and the Gremlin were conducting a survey on why coffee and tea were so popular.

They had printed a questionnaire, designed colourful envelopes, but when it came to handing them out they discovered, any number of the locals could neither read, nor write....

Debbie & Peter

http://www.peterandrewjones.net
"DEADLINES ARE SACROSANCT

The morning shift.

Coffee helps . . . when the deadline is tight!

https://www.facebook.com/MrBunTheBakerChurchStretton/

Shopping at the market was becoming a veritable scrum.

Those who wished to purchase gifts for the Fantasy Land Christmas felt constrained to elbow, to push their way through to the stalls.

In the evening, these were lit with multi coloured lights and the Christmas tree glittered, sparkled and twinkled.

Mulled wine, toffee apples, candy floss, hot apple juice, mince pies and slivers of Christmas cake were on offer.

Each one of these treats was especially prepared to suit the sundry Fantastical and real life creatures there present.

At the hour of midnight, the Witch and the Wizard touched down, arriving together upon his magickal carpet.

The Unicorn accompanied them, eye-poppingly magnificent in his formal festival attire.

He treated the youngsters to rides, adults no way and took them for low flybys to skim the market stalls.

The church clock struck 11 pm and the Town Crier shouted, “Time!”

Barriers were erected around the marketplace and a police presence established North, South, East, West.

Thus, Ghosts excepted, the market stalls were now closed.

Inaccessible until the next morning....

Debbie & Peter

"EN PLEIN AIR" (the wrong kind of passengers)

I'm not "a train artist".

But my love of creating paintings of spaceships in the 70s/80s was rooted in my love of machinery, probably because my father was a fitter/engineer and I grew up in that environment.

I saw this machine at Shrewsbury railway station and fell in love with it.

I just had to paint it!

Hung in the local Cafe >
https://www.facebook.com/MrBunTheBakerChurchStretton/

The Goblin and the Gremlin were in seventh heaven.

Fancy!

The Goblin equivalent to Einstein had come to call.

He had been directed to the garden by a female colleague, who, from time to time, had stayed in the Wizard’s guest house.

He, himself, dwelled on a cloud, but also had access to a floating guest house.

Mod cons were laid on, the rooms were luxurious and the guests were treated like precious jewels in a crown.

The Witch had occasionally ventured “up there,” but preferred that her feet touch the ground.

The Unicorn usually agreed to ferry those guests for whom getting about was a problem.

The Flower Faeries visited the guest house, too, when duties permitted or, when the garden’s community spirit was threadbare.

The Wizard maintained a tight control on his business, ie he expected that employees and facilities achieve a consistent 5 star rating....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Every day, I feel blessed.

To be able to observe these wonderful creatures, surrounding me.

They inspire me.

To create, to invent, to weave stories, based on observations.

I never, ever, tire, of observing the world around me . . . . . . .

The garden train station, being virtual, had escaped the downpour, which had flooded the garden and caused far reaching, widespread destruction.

The Owl’s tree house had survived, so, too, had the garden shed.

The glass greenhouse had sustained irreparable damage.

The rabbit holes had become miniature whirlpools and the tennis courts a muddy paddling pool.

The garden pond, itself, had sustained a mini tidal surge and several trees had had branches torn off.

The Witch had hidden herself in the basement, the Goblin and Gremlin in a heated guest bedroom with en-suite.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps were in the kitchen with two cats and two dogs and the Cook had been given a Master Suite for the night.

The Unicorn had removed himself to the outer reaches of Space and the Wizard had transferred Universes at infinite velocity.

The Ghosts and Spectres and the ghostly Werewolves - and Wolverines had faded into nothingness.

Leastways, they had temporarily vanished.

The Mermaid had been so battered by the deluge that she had dived deep down into the pond and was comfortably hunkered down....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

The very last blast of (autumn) colour, perhaps.

The Reds & Greens depart.

The Biscuit coloured palette is upon us..

Winter beckons . . . . . .

The Flower Faeries were happy, happy and excited ‘cos, the Faeries of the wood had suggested that they organise a Faerie Land Yuletide, Fashion Show.

T’would involve obtaining an elegant marquee, tables and chairs, champagne glasses and sweet meats.

Flower arrangements could be expensive, however.

They’d ask the Witch if she could, perhaps, cast a magickal spell.

One to generate garlands and posies and armfuls of winter colour.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps could provide the music and the birds of Rhiannon, sing.

The Unicorn, dressed to impress, could ferry faraway guests and the Goblin and Gremlin, assume the role of Ushers.

The Ogre, without doubt, would refuse to attend.

The Wizard?
We’d have to see.

The Ghosts and Spectres, the Wolves, the Werewolves and Wolverines could be prevailed upon to keep order . . . . . (maybe).

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Observing the studio surrounds for the last blast of colour options for the autumn palette.

(Must order in some more oil paint tubes!)

This is SO stunning, I don't think any words of mine can really add anything to it.

The Reds & Greens and Yellows.

Ah . . . . mazing.

But the winter palette is soon upon us . . . . . . .

The time of their lives was being had by the young Elves, who were picking up the tricks of their elders with ease.

The Imps and the Pixies were not far behind and their daily interaction with the Elves proved to be of valuable assistance in the process.

The Witch was at wits’ end, the Goblin and Gremlin hot and bothered.

The Flower Faeries had begun to feel insignificant and the Frog, Toad and Water Rat bypassed the garden whenever the youngsters were there.

The Unicorn studied their movements so as to visit when they weren’t about.

The Wizard refused to be blackmailed, until they purloined his magick carpet.

The ring leaders ordered it to fly them to Mars and when their order was rejected, they lost their edgy tempers and shredded it with their penknives.

The Ghosts and Spectres conferred with the ghostly Werewolves and Wolverines, well versed in ridding “their territory” of irritants.

The Dragon was summoned to add his might and the young Elves were hit from behind.

Mesmerised by the backlash, they sought out their parents and pleaded with them to relocate elsewhere....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

The Zap Gun

Panther Paperback - 1975

“My world has imploded, my rights have been trodden into the hard earth beneath my feet....”

So spake the visiting Mollusc Spider Wizard.

The Goblin and the Gremlin scratched their heads, the Frog jumped in surprise and the Toad and Water Rat sat back sharp upon their haunches.

The Witch stirred her cauldron, cracked a smile, sniggered.
“Fair game,” she thought. “You are a blot on the landscape.”

The Flower Faeries were grooming the Unicorn and weren’t listening.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps were in the greenhouse, plotting the Mollusc Spider Wizard’s downfall.

Unbeknownst to these Machiavellian layabouts, this was a red letter day, a day to thwart, Elves, Pixies and Imps.

The Mollusc Spider Wizard always reacted angrily to what they termed, “using Dutch brick dike” methods.

He sprawled upon his tummy, placed his boney chin on the grass and prepared to do battle till victory was his.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps issued forth from the greenhouse, approached the fantastical creature with sneaky stealth.

Surrounding the Mollusc Spider Wizard they crept nearer and nearer, grinning from ear to ear and cracking their fingers in unison.

But.

The Mollusc Spider Wizard had spun a sweet, sticky web, to serve as a tempting, protective shield.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps, were indeed, tempted by the cool, sweet smell and found themselves drawn into the web, which rendered them unable even to wriggle....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

The Primitive

Futura Paperback - 1977

the refuse collectors were collecting the bins.

The row they were making was unsettling the horses and spooking the crows and the pigeons.

The bins were thrown down with a bang, rather than placed quietly back where they came from.

The refuse collectors whistled and shouted to one another; paid no attention whatsoever to the sleeping household.

I knew that the Elves, Pixies and Imps were already awake and headed t’wards the front door of the house.

I’d been woken by a nightmare in the early, early hours and been unable to get back to sleep.

I’d watched the Flower Faeries poke their noses out from their place of abode, shivered, frowned and retired, shutting the door.

The Unicorn would, apparently, be later than usual as the Wizard needed a lift to the Gardens of Ambrosia, 10,000 leagues from here.

The Witch was asleep, the Owl just returned from the hunt and the Frog, Toad and Water Rat down a commodious, (and warm, dry), rabbit hole.

The Weasel, the Stoat and Mole slept the sleep of hibernation and the Mermaid sang.
She was dressed in extra layers, a thicker tail and a magickal bodice, which retained body heat, but allowed an undiminished freedom of movement.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps had tried to open the front door.
No luck.
The door handle was slippery with ice.

So, they introduced their Plan B.

To be continued....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

The last blast of colour, from the studio's Acer tree.

It'll be gone.

By tomorrow.

Winter beckons . . . . . . .

The junior Elves, Imps and Pixies were learning their numbers 1 to 10.

Tomorrow they’d begin learning how to add up.

Their slightly older siblings were learning script writing, times tables and the reading of children’s books.

These written in Century Gothic typography, with large, brightly colourful illustrations.

The classroom had transferred to the house cellar, now that winter had arrived and their teacher insisted that the little people’s brains must be kept warm, well oiled and awake.

The Cook was in charge of providing food and beverages and the Flower Faeries in charge of the washing of hands; and ensuring that handkerchiefs, not hands, were used to wipe noses.

The Ogre had tried in vain to enter the house.

He missed the company of others and scarce got on with his mama.

The Mermaid wore winter onesies with tail to keep protected from the cold.

She sang “The Greatest songs of Winter,“ with enthusiastic gusto.

Ditto the reason....
To be warm.

I continued to ride, to drive and walk, taking the dogs for companionship.

The cats stayed put in the kitchen or in front of the Library fire.

Outside the ground hardened, the temperatures plunged, but the snow held off....

For how long?

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

The Quest of The DNA Cowboys

Mayflower Paperback - 1976

The DNA Cowboys, Billy and Reave, from Pleasant Gap, repro pistols in hand,, travel through the Nothings, on the edge of non-existence, to Graveyard, wheelfreaks' paradise, Dogbreath, home of blue-scaled whores, Port Judas, Puritan outpost, via Dropville to the nightmare city, of Akio-Tech.

I recall with amusement Mick farren's comment to me about the spaceship >

"I saw it more as a flying cabbage".

Perhaps, if I'd known that BEFORE I painted the cover art, it might have been even more wierd?

Maybe I should do that?

Or did I?

Maybe it is tucked away somewhere, in my archive . . . . .

The tramp in the doorway was too cold to hold his coffee cup.

He shook like a leaf, his eyes and nose streamed.

T’was the first time that the Cook and the House Keeper had seen a tramp in town and knew not quite what to do.

They hummed and they hawed, dithered and dathered, finally inviting him to drink a cup of coffee with them.

He possessed few teeth, but an attractive grin and was plainly gratefulissimo to accept their offer.

The Cook and the House Keeper did their shopping, loaded the car and , on their way to the tearoom, picked up the tramp.

He made sumptuous repast, despite his toothlessness and was found to be a most interesting character.

He’d sailed the seas, lived among indigenous peoples.

He’d traversed ancient forests, studied cities in ruins and met any number of famous explorers.

Both the Cook and the House Keeper were full of beans and talked of little else for the rest of the day.

They met him once or twice other.

Then he was gone....

Debbie & Peter

"THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR"

Winter is nearly upon us, as Autumn passes.

Gather in your harvest and prepare the log fires.

Cold and bleak (but beautiful) mornings await . . . . .

It was a cold and bleak morning and the Cook was preparing scalding hot toddies for the Staff and herself.

They sat around the kitchen table, quiet, just glad to have an heartwarming drink for their elevenses.

The rain had held off, but t’was bleak, misty moisty and the residents of the garden were loath to venture out, however, their minds were changed by the arrival of the Elves, Pixies and Imps, who were bent upon creating the worst possible atmosphere.

Their efforts till now had been sadly frustrated by the inhospitable early winter weather.

They had repaired to the market town to thieve monies and goods, but had not found that to be nearly as satisfactory.

The Witch, however, was in a bad temper, her spells having fallen short of perfection.

She had sent a telepathic message to the Wizard for assistance and begun preparing new spells, a potion and a “feel better” coffee for the Wizard and herself.

The Unicorn had set down and was presently undergoing a grooming to usher in the Flower Faeries’ spectacular Christmas series of “Unicorn fashion.”

The Ogre was walking in the hills, the Goblin and Gremlin were with relatives for the day.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat were swimming fast round the pond and the Mermaid was singing, “Ode to a Nightingale,” which, I always found had so very chilling an effect upon one’s, already frosty, thoughts and spirits....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Mutants

Editor Robert Silverberg

1977

Corgi Books

The greenhouse and garden shed were crammed with Elves and their guests.

The Imps and Pixies had not been invited.

The Elves, in their wisdom, had omitted to tell the Witch and the Flower Faeries of this intended get together.

Their omission, added and multiplied, equalled zero food or drinks for the guests.

How rude?!

The Unicorn was telepathically messaged and arrived overhead, baskets upon both flanks, blankets resting upon his broad back.

He had brought no cutlery, plates, bowls or glasses so, the Witch cast a spell and these necessities were made manifest.

Plenty of napkins, of finger bowls, of petit fours, black coffee, China tea, Turkish coffee and, on request, non alcoholic liqueurs.

The birds of Rhiannon sang from the Oak, the crows had been banned, the Owl was a’hunting.

By the time midnight struck, the food had been eaten.

Few drinks remained, excepting the Turkish coffee.

Debbie & Peter

"EN PLEIN AIR"

When the going gets tough . . .

The coffee gets going.

The song of the Siren was heard from the rocks that rose sharp from the waters of Lake Bala.

The water creatures and those which inhabited its banks, were captivated, spellbound, bewitched and seduced by her honeyed, mellifluous, sweetly seductive voice.

The Witch was visiting a friend of long-standing.

She, too, found herself drawn to the water’s edge.

Even its' iciness failed to stop her.

In the nick of time the Wizard swept down upon his magick carpet, lifted her on to it, swept her away.

The Witch he took back to the garden and then, made haste to return to Lake Bala, where, he was sure, a major tragedy was about to take place.

He sent silent messages to Wizard friends, “ Could you assist me to rid Lake Bala of the Siren?”

Those that were able, did.

They were unsuccessful but, the Siren’s dulcet tones were quickly silenced, as she began to feel isolated, bored.

Too few victims to tempt into drowning.

The creatures large, small, aquatic or no, returned....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Menace of The Mutant Master

Futura Books

1976

Theodore, the St Bernard, was stretching his legs, his handler and “owner” walking close behind him.

They were presently ascending our highest hill, hardly amounting to more than a tadpole.

I’d taken the dogs for a jaunt through the countryside, the wind in my hair, the wind in their fur.

We reached the foothills and, above us, we espied Theodore and his handler striding purposefully towards the, ever so low, easy to reach, summit.

We pursued our course upwards, when, from behind a rock, a ghostly apparition emerged.

We were stopped in our tracks, breath held, fingers clenched.

The apparition approached us through the rock.

We uttered not a word, unable to adjudge to what species this hill creature belonged.

The creature enveloped us in its aura.

We relaxed.

The weird being stood still, then turned and addressed us, “Tell me the way to the Fantastical garden.”

“I’ve heard tell that a Witch resides there, and a Wizard of widespread renown.

I wish to be transformed into an opposite of myself: Courageous, hardy, persistent, determined.”

We guided it home.

The Witch and the Wizard and the ghostly apparition conversed for a long, long while, after which the Witch and the Wizard stepped aside to deliberate.

What did happen?

The creature was changed by magickal spell into a Duck billed dinosaur of which I had never heard....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Time to go into winter hibernation?

So cold today, the Garden Gremlins have temporarily frozen!

A dry spell - a ride - cross country, at speed.

My horse was becoming increasingly fretful, I knew.

T’was ‘diculus!

Time to get back in the saddle, forthwith, pronto.

I set the alarm for 4.00 am one morning and by 5.00 am was ready to get myself and my horse “saddled up.”

To bolster my “want to be warm” spirits, I repeated, repeated a favourite quote of mine, “You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.”
(Ravindranath Tagore)

Clattering over cobbles, accelerating to a trot, we gradually gathered momentum till we were moving in fourth gear.

The wind blew, the grey clouds scudded across the winter sky as we slowed to a canter, leapt streams and low hedges.

Returning home, refreshed, I felt exhilarated, cheered.

Another wash, brush and light grooming and t’was time for breakfast....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Vermillion Sands

Panther Books

1975

Film stars, Aliens and fast cars (with alternative energy).

What fun! (to be young, and not know what on earth I was doing . . . . .)

A faint glimmer of sun, a faint diminution in freezing-ness.

The garden residents took off their hats, their gloves and their scarves.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat spent the best part of the morning swimming, in the garden pond till bored and
the pond in the wood, ditto.

The Mermaid crooned softly, the Goblin and Gremlin, not wishful for a swim, hummed whisperingly, blending, harmonising.

The Witch, meanwhile, was standing beside her cauldron hatless, her hair blowing free.

Her spells were drifting over garden fence, through wood and hedge;
some becoming stuck in the spiky holly bush.

Some became entangled in the cascading Ivy, some were simply blown off course.

Others drifted down rabbit holes or seeped around the kitchen door left ajar by the Cook, who had grown hot baking bread.

A myriad of lollapalooze occurred that day, a rebirth after the mourning for those who had lost their lives fighting to the death so that we should live free....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

Working on the next issue.

Chances are, it might be scary!

In one of the bedrooms there hung a mirror.

Its frame was carved from wood and had been decorated by me when a child.

I had collected seashells of diverse shape and size and wanted to use these to decorate something or other.

To my young mind the plain, wood framed mirror was boring.

A total zero.

What could I do to give it originality, character?

The seashells!

The job took several days and stacks of patience.

A certain percentage of the collection was binned as neither sufficiently perfect nor interesting enough.

Perseverance further, however, and I sat back with a smile.

The shells had been glued with artistic flair and the effect was both cheerful and pleasing.

I rehung it, said nothing and waited to see whether anyone else would notice.

It did take some time but, eventually they did and the decision taken to retain it as a treasured childhood memento....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Perry Rhodan, Futura Books, from back in the day.

Trying then to pay homage to the excitement of the Pulps, while moving it forward into the then contemporary feel.

To effect it, I used paint of the type used in the Pulp era but with a bit of contemporary Oil wash to move it towards where I wanted technique to ultimately go.

I enjoyed the the combination!

The Ogre had taken up weightlifting.

He kept the weights in a shed in the weed filled mess of a garden, with paved yard, which lay at the back of his mother’s house.

He grunted and strained as he carried out his routine, which took place three times a week, but, he then consumed the Witch’s gargantuan breakfast, which she thought counterproductive.

However, she held her tongue in order to keep the peace.

The Goblin and Gremlin preferred Zumba classes, the Flower Faeries, aerial acrobatics.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat dived, swam and splashed about.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies loved archery.

The Mermaid practised various diving techniques and swam from early morning till twilight.

The birds of Rhiannon were perpetually on the move and the crows cawed their energy far afield.

I read, researched and wrote....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

"Passarinho que come pedra sabe o "bougha" que tem."

THE CROOKED BOUGH

Bird that eats stone knows the "Bougha" it has.

“Additional information is required,” the Judge pronounced firmly, as he brought the judicial proceedings to a disappointing end.

The Elves had accused an oversize flea of assault and battery, of spying and of stalking, but had been unable to provide the evidence to charge the flea with anything.

“The habits of fleas have been known for millennia,” added the Judge.
“Why did you not purchase and sprinkle, flea killer, in every nook, every corner of the garden?”

They trooped off to town and purchased, (stole), any number of bottles of flea spray.

These they took back, covered the grass with the powder and waited for whatever the outcome might be.

The extra large flea remained immune for a day.

On the second it began to fly wonkily.

On the third day it could hardly fly at all and on the fourth, fell to earth and expired....

The End.

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO THIS MORNING"

Always inspiring!

Never twice the same.

I’d consumed so many cups of coffee a week ago yesterday that, for some days my nervous system had declared coffee to be verboten.

The Cook then decided to change the brand she used to one she’d been advised was less enervating, less jitter creating.

The jars that remained she took to the Food Bank, though I suspect, the Elves “lifted” a number of jars from the shopping bag she’d left in the hallway.

The Flower Faeries brewed coffee prepared from herbs.

The Cook and the House Keeper preferred strong cups of tea.

The Goblin and Gremlin drank whatever their tastebuds dictated and the Weasel, Stoat and Mole rejected both as yuck, nasty.

The Witch was past master at conjuring drinks to suit one’s mood and the Wizard partook only when visiting the Witch.

Last, but not least, the Head Gardener drank tea laced with a drop or two of Armagnac brandy....

Debbie & Peter

"0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article continued from below

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

Enjoy his full blog @

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/blog-sa.htm

Peter Andrew Jones produced the cover art for The Unholy City book. And this art is sober: a reptilian seems to be an obligatory meeting and the (faced) reader feels himself in the captain’s flesh and bones, confronted with the horrifying creature. In its background, it seems, is Heilar-Wey beyond the ruins of what had been an inhabited forest. The shades of yellow and orange bring art the desert climate that Butch Malahide seems to go through with his captivating companion. The little animal that resembles a dinosaur well represents what the reader can expect from the narrative: uncertainty, or rather the certainty that surprises await him!

This cover art was used for Roleplayer Independent magazine’s #6 issue, as I reviewed last month.

0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article continued below

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

Enjoy his full blog @

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/blog-sa.htm

His books influenced fantasy writers such as Ray Bradbury, Arthur Calder-Marshall, Tom Reamy, Peter S. Beagle, Jonathan Lethem, and others. Some of his books appear in A Reader's Guide to Fantasy (1982), Fantasy: The 100 Best Books (1988), Magill's Guide to Science Fiction and Fantasy Literature (1996), Fantasy and Horror (2009) and The Cambridge Companion to Fantasy (2012).

Finney passed away on April 16th, 1984.

In his book The Unholy City there are the wanderings of Captain Butch Malahide in a strange hostile land called Heilar-Wey, in which he is by himself after the accident of an airplane in which he is the unique survivor. In time, he meets a rather peculiar gentleman named Vicq Ruiz, a man exiled in the neighboring town. Unknown regions, bizarre places, fantastic parts also make up this narrative. It is a surrealistic and parody fantasy of modern life.

The Unholy City is an eccentric book that probably will not please anyone who is looking for science fiction or fantasy, because its plot borders the absurd and various marks of humor are present in it.

0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article continued above

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

Enjoy his full blog @

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/blog-sa.htm

1975
swa 063
16 x 24 inches
Oil & acrylic on canvas textured board

Charles Grandison Finney was born in Sedalia, Missouri, on December 1st, 1905. He was an American news editor and speculative fiction writer, great-grandson of the evangelist whose full name is identical to his own. Finney’s first novel and most famous book, The Circus of Dr. Lao, written in Tientsin, won one of the first National Book Awards as the most original book of 1935.

Finney served in China with the 15th US Army Infantry Regiment (E Company) from 1927 to 1929. After the Army, he served as editor of the Arizona Daily Star in Tucson, Arizona, from 1930 to 1970.
Some of Finney's text productions, with manuscripts, correspondence, and photographs, are in the University of Arizona's Main Library.

"PINTEREST"

Apparently, according to Pinterest, this is also "Vintage"!

And, it too, was one of the earliest covers I created.

I was still at St Martins School of Art at this point in my career.
(Which wasn't even a career then).

Rendered in Gouache and oil paint (how's that for a combination of technique?!)

While the art director was looking at it (stood against a radiator) the heat from the radiator dried out the water-based paint (that I'd laid down over the oil) causing the sky area to shatter and so deposited flakes of black from the sky onto the carpet!

And the art director's comment?
"Oh, sorry about that, Peter."

I spent the weekend fixing it . . . . . . .

The Unicorn had offered the Flower Faeries a lift to the outreaches of Space, to include flying visits to
the multifarious other Universes.

The Witch was an expert on travel through time and her knowledge of the Cosmos was ever growing, expanding.

She’d also been well tutored by the Wizard and Sky Witches.

The Goblin and the Gremlin were presently studying; the stars, planets and other components of Inner and Outer Space.

They, too, would have appreciated a lift “up there,” but weeks of intense physical and mental preparation would be required.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat had been with the cow when she shot into Space and jumped over the Moon.
They’d very nearly tumbled from her back, to be forever trekking rearward, abaft.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps had decided that I should purchase a Space Craft for their exclusive use.

T’would cost a pretty penny and demand acute attention to the many safety aspects and to its, very demanding upkeep.

I said nothing.

All I could do was I hope against hope that they’d quickly be distracted by something easier to possess....

Debbie & Peter

"OUTSIDE THE STUDIO TODAY"

So cold today, it, temporarily, froze some of the garden residents.

Hopefully they will thaw eventually . . . . .

Tomasina, the Tigwort, was coming to tea with the garden residents, the Wizard and his forgetful friend.

His friend’s name, we’d lately been told, was Timofei Timur Rotislav, the Magician.

He hailed from the backlands, shrouded in mystery, population tiny, landscape divine and had met our Wizard at a long ago conference.

They had become fast friends, travelled through Universes, worked together, worked alone.

The forgetful Wizard had aged badly and, over time had required, ongoing care and attention.

Our Wizard found this difficult, being essentially a loner.

At times tempers frayed, words were exchanged and each went his own way till he’d simmered down.

The Flower Faeries were garden based, so, too were their friends.

Every resident had his, or her daily routine.

Wouldn't take kindly to hitting a detour.

What to do . . . . . . ?

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Apparently, according to Pinterest, this is "Vintage".

One of the earliest covers I created.

You can't even buy the brand of paint I used any more!

The Flower Faeries had been offered a warm room in the basement as their domicile for the increasingly arctic winter season.

Each morning, I locked myself into my attic office/studio or worked at the desk in the Library.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps had been banned from the house, the open fires burned throughout the day and the hours, I thought, passed in a flash.

The house ghost occasionally came downstairs to converse and had recently shown me a secret room unknown to me.

It was tiny and cramped, but had the space to store food and drink and warm blankets.

Porcelain chamber pots would have been an absolute necessity, as would a screen behind which to be private.

Despite the infelicitous weather, I went for a ride every morning, except for those mornings after a storm.

T’would have been far too dangerous, with the ground too muddy, too slippery....

Debbie & Peter

"THAT WAS THEN, AND THIS IS NOW"

Given to me by a friend who works in a charity shop.
Somebody had donated it to the shop.

Management decided they could not sell it to the public, because it was in a lead tube.

Indeed, this tube is ancient, dating back many, many years, possibly even decades.

I recall, as a child, buying this very brand of paint, in a well known art shop in Camden Town in North London, with my pocket money.

I am going to frame it and hang it on the wall in the studio.

Memories . . . . . . .

I had mislaid my, indispensable, mobile phone, though, I wasn’t sure that was really the case.

The Elves had been rummaging through my bedroom and thieving small odds and ends.

The Pixies and the Imps were now otherwise engaged, serving apprenticeships at the market town’s busy gas station.

The Unicorn, washed, groomed and elaborately coiffed, paraded through the garden - show-off.

The Goblin and the Gremlin were in the greenhouse playing “Snap” and the Ghosts and the Spectres in the garden shed, employed in nothing.

The Witch and her cauldron threw off light, heat and smoke, the smoke enveloping the breakfasting Ogre.

He complained loudly and long, until the Witch threatened to deny him that repast.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat, the Mermaid and Flower Faeries had removed themselves to the impenetrably lonely Lake Bala.

The Wizard was bored.

He’d been looking after his friend, who, had become so forgetful that he’d forgotten the seasons, the days of the week and why he was here in the first place - in toto....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

Nada de sombra e água fresca!

SUNRISE VALLEY

No shade and fresh water!

It was the Cook’s birthday and celebrations were in train.

A marquee had been erected in the garden, food prepared by an invited chef and drinks donated by the local wine
merchant, tea house and coffee merchant or pre prepared by the Flower Faerie skilful pâtissières.

The Elves, Pixies and Imps provided the background music and the birds of Rhiannon sang.

The festivities continued till day turned to night and I was given a late supper served in the Library.

In the early hours of the morning, I was woken by a crash.
Falling out of bed, I rushed to the door.

On the staircase were the Elves, laughing and joking and strewn upon the hall floor were the remains of a tray and an inherited and treasured, set of expensive antique glassware.

The House Keeper was there, wringing her hands and wailing.

(Too exhausted to go home, she had been given a warm, empty bedroom to sleep in, replete with en-suite containing a jacuzzi.

I sat down hard upon a stair, put my head in my hands.
This was a step too far.
The Elves should be banished.

The following day, I asked the Witch, “Could she have a look see at the damage and tell me truthfully whether she could restore this prized inheritance to its original form?”

The Wizard was summoned and his forgetful friend and together they researched appropriate spells.

The Wizard’s friend suddenly plonked down upon the wet grass, rubbing his hands talking what sounded like gibberish.

A faint tinkling sound, a click, click, clack and a swish was heard by the House Keeper as she passed through the hall whilst “doing” her rounds.

She crossed the hall, climbed the stairs - no shards, no splinters - and saw the tray, with upon it, the set of immaculate antique glassware.

And,

I can tell you that the set now reposes in the bank vault or strong room in town....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

Art, apparently, and "a board like mine".

(According to another e-mail I received this morning).

Originally conceived in 1979 as the cover for Solar Wind (before Protector chosen).

No one knew why, but for some reason, the Witch was off to the as was, supercontinent, know to us now as Gondwanaland.

The Goblin and Gremlin would have loved to accompany her, but, were presently preoccupied writing their memoirs.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat had gone to Lake Bala, a favourite haunt, where various relatives of their’s resided.

The Mermaid had yet to go there, because there had been nobody to arrange suitable transport for her.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies had received an invitation to bring their sproglets to a superior Elfin Theme Park.

They were not enthusiastic, for t’would mean that time for creating mayhem could be severely curtailed.

The Flower Faeries were busy putting away the various paints and tools which had utilised to decorate the Unicorn.

Today they had tinted his hair a cool magenta, plaited mane and tail and threaded through them, sapphires, opals and amazonites.

Stunning....

The Cook had put aside a whole day for cooking and she felt limp with relief to see the back of the Elves, never mind that it was for a short while only.

The Ogre spent the day sleeping, despite the chill, so relieved was he to get out of the house.

The Spider, the Mouse and the ever active Fly, remained out of harm’s way in an attic room....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO TODAY"

As the Acer tree begins to shed its' leaves, garden inhabitants become visible to all.

(It distracted the Postman this morning!)

The Elves, the Imps and Pixies were having porridge for tea.

They hadn’t fancied it for breakfast, but a craving had grown, intensifying by the hour till it became too demanding.

Something hot and energy sustaining was most definitely necessary.

The Witch was drinking hot chocolate, the Goblin mulled wine and the Gremlin consumed a blisteringly hot toddy.

He did feel that an unwanted cold was just round the corner.

The Flower Faeries were sipping cups of delicate China tea, in a Wendy House beneath the Oak, especially constructed for them.

The Cook was in the kitchen chasing the Mouse and the House Keeper was unravelling the household accounts.

The Head Gardener pottered, assessing, plotting, sketching his plans for the spring/summer plantings.

The Owl slept, the crows cawed harshly and the birds of Rhiannon flew high above the garden on their way to the fair Kingdom of Wales....

Debbie & Peter

"PINTEREST"

"New ideas for you in Science fiction art"

(According to an e-mail I received this morning).

Art for Orphans of the sky by Robert A. Heinlein - 1975 Panther Books

A legendary Wolpertinger materialised through the garden’s translucent, not oft lifted veil.

The Wolpertinger had dedicated its life to exploration, had travelled the globe clockwise and back again.

The Flower Faeries it allowed to perch upon its shoulders, the Ogre it greeted, the Elves it ignored.

The Imps and Pixies received a curt nod and the Goblin and Gremlin were shook by the hand.

The Witch offered him a bowl of gut warming gruel and a place by the bonfire, to watch her cast spells.

The Mouse, Fly, and Spider were in the attic with their friends, a moth, a Lilliputian woodworm and a stick like daddy long legs.

The House Keeper was inspecting the attic rooms, to ascertain which, if any, required a clean or repair.

The Wolpertinger had decided, or was acting by instinct and entered the house, ascended the stairs.

It was, at this precise moment behind a tall screen in the same attic room as was the House Keeper.

When she turned her back on him, he came out from behind it and snorted.

The House Keeper was effectively blown out the open door.
She ran helter skelter down the staircase, into the kitchen.

So overcome was she that the Cook brewed her a cup of strong tea and patted her hand till her breathing stilled.

The Wolpertinger, meanwhile, was on its way downstairs....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Observing the options for the autumn palette again.

(whle making more fresh oil paint and tubing it.)

Stunning "advancing" bright yellow-greens and "mid-distance" darker, blue-er greens, and the muted and darker browns as a backdrop, all available to the eye as one walks from the studio to my regular morning En Plein Air location, where "work is a pleasure".

A bull had escaped and was roaming the countryside, the farmer in hot pursuit.

I failed to see that a fast moving Land Rover could do other than infuriate the animal.

The local bus, brought abruptly to a halt, when the bull crossed the road in front of it, had both headlights pierced by its horns and the mudguard wrenched from its moorings.

He evaded capture for most of the day and the light was beginning to fade when, a visiting cowboy, staying with relatives, approached in a real banged up vehicle.

Seeing the bull, he stopped, took a rope from the back seat, got out and, quick, quick, neatly, lassoed the, now very hungry, animal.

Leaving the car unlocked, he walked back to the farm, pulling the bull behind him....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

A riot of Autumn colour.

The resplendant Acer Tree.

And a view, of the hills that King Caractacus reigned over . . . .

The sun was bright, and, if you walked directly into the fierce shafts of natural light, you were blinded unless you shaded your eyes.

The garden residents were all out in the garden, even the Ogre was present.

He was ensconced upon his groundsheet, surrounded by cushions, awaiting his feast of a breakfast.

The Witch was preparing a repast big enough for four people, knowing well that he’d consume every scrap.

The Goblin and the Gremlin had divested themselves of, their thick sweaters, scarves and gloves.

They felt lighter and freer and, as a consequence, they walked faster and with greater aplomb.

The Flower Faeries today, went to town with the Unicorn’s grooming and the Witch, after breakfast, had a field day sending spells.

The Wizard visited to see what was what and the Dragon was seen to wave a talon, as he flew high over the sun filled garden.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat had a whale of a time splashing about in the overflowing garden pond.

The Ghosts and the Spectres had faded into translucency and the Cook spent the morning complaining.

The Queen of the woodlands came to call and, whilst there, issued an invitation to the residents to a cocktail party at her castle.

Thus the day finished upon a high note and the residents went to bed still full of good cheer and bonhomie....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

The Icy Ridge . . . . .

An elderly lady in the garden?
From where had she traveled?
Her clothes were torn, and dirty, her boots worn right through.

Her face seemed familiar, though.
Had I seen a portrait?

She dragged her feet, limped slightly, so I went out to meet her, to invite her inside to rest.

She stared at me and I stared at her, till, a light went on in my memory and I realised who she was;
Blanche Parry.

Blanche Parry had cared for Elizabeth 1 since childhood and eventually became Gentlewoman of the Bedchamber.

She conversed hesitantly, head bent, as though embarrassed.

I had difficulty convincing her to come inside the house and repose herself.

Once inside the house, she relaxed and slept deep.
When she awoke, she was ready for tea and sweet meats.

Of teeth she possessed few, which were black and broken so, the Cook served her a repast that took account of this fact.

She stayed a long while in a room in the attic.
Initially, she could not fathom what a bathtub was, let alone a toilet.

By the time she left, she was fully conversant with life in the fast lane that is the 21st century and our reliance upon all the latest mod cons....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

The Beacon . . . . .

The Witch was at market, replenishing stocks of herbs and spices, food stuffs and flowers.

The Goblin and the Gremlin had rented a stall, selling secondhand clothes and unworn shoes, especially purchased suits and coats, scarves and gloves.

(The price mark up on these goods gave both of Goblin and Gremlin a substantial profit).

The Flower Faeries visited the market once each week for fun, but occasionally to assist the Witch, when she rented a stall.

(Her income required replenishing, from time to time, too).

The Unicorn flew in, the Dragon hovered, the Elves, Imps and Pixies performed a Morris dance or played rhythmic, carnivalesque music.

The Wizard oft arrived upon his magick carpet, expecting to join his friend, the Witch.
However, t’was rare that a space wide enough was available.

Market days were popular, crowded, noisy.

Only the Elves, Imps and Pixies could put the stews on....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Contemplating the autumn palette.

Time to chose some further colour inspiration, make some fresh oil paint, and tube it.

Our Sorbus hupehensis 'Rosea' -
(Rowan tree)

This range of tone & colour could be nice for rendering backdrops in scenes, secondary elements, or, for lead elements in more subtle, gentle, interior book spreads perhaps.

Anyway, I like the muted subtlety on display.

The garden was asleep, it’s residents inside their, unserviced, apartments.

The Ghosts and the Spectres had retired to the woodshed and lit a virtual fire to warm their translucent bare feet.

The Cook had chosen to stay here, reluctant to face the lengthy bicycle ride home.

The Housekeeper had had to do so in order to feed her two cats.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies were bored, however.

Bother the weather. Bother the winter.

Think.

What’d be a novel new slant on how to enjoy themselves, whatever the circumstances?

The Owl perched behind closed a door, his dinner beside him.

He had eaten most of it and was debating whether or not to finish it.

The creatures of the night had made a entrance earlier, but decided that a cosy warmth was preferable.

The stars, billions of light years from Earth, shimmered in faraway splendour....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Contemplating the autumn palette.

Time to make some fresh oil paint and tube it.

I like to ignore (there's a surprise) the "traditional" palette layout and make a set of colors tat reflect the time of year, and this is the first consideration for this year.

I like the vibrancy and contrast between the reds and the green (which would work nicely for foreground elements in "advancing temperature in a picture) and the muted and paler pink and biscuit-brown and lemon-green for use as mid-distance colour and tine and, perhaps, very dark green and red for far distance in a scene.

All hypothetical of course, until one actually gets down to exploring possibilities in the painting itself.

Watch this space!

:)

The Unicorn had come into land too sharply.
He must surely have been over tired or distracted.

He hit the lawn at an awkward angle and stumbled, knocked his nose upon the hard earth, snorted, angrily, whinnied.

The “alarm bells,” so to speak, went off in the garden, the residents surging forward to provide first aid, if required.

The Witch hesitated for a moment, then strode across at the double to feel the Unicorn’s legs lest one should be broke.

The Goblin and the Gremlin heaved a sigh of relief, recommenced their walk, the Elves, Imps and Pixies sat down hard, head in hands, eyes closed.

I was told of this mishap after breakfast when, I went out for a breath of fresh air and a stretch.

The Hare was a visitor, so too the Rabbit and the Ogre remained snugly warm at home, huddled in an armchair afore the fire.

The Cook, when told, brought out an apple and carrot, patted the Unicorn upon the nose and stroked his ears.

The Flower Faeries did manage to wash, brush and groom him and threaded his mane and tail with diamonds and sapphires.

The Wizard arrived t’wards eventide and brought news that the Unicorn had sustained no injury.

He’d been seen bucking and kicking and galloping full speed through space....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Autumn skies.

Love the variation in colours and the streaming light.

Assailed by plenitude, assailed by riches, assailed by winning the Fantasy Land Lotto.

Such was the dream that was dreamed by the Elves, the copycat Imps and Pixies.

The word “assailed” would have sounded too harsh to most ears, but summed up their dream thinking exactly.

The Goblin and Gremlin had, on occasion, purchased a ticket and the Weasel, Stoat and Mole once each per year.

The Ogre would not have properly completed the ticket and the Witch could simply magick untold wealth.

The Mermaid had no idea what was material wealth and the birds of Rhiannon lived surrounded by it.

The Wizard, like the Witch, could conjure “the necessaries,” so, aside from the Owl, who lived by instinct, the residents wished for this, that or t’other.

One bright December morning long long ago, the Witch had desired great wealth.

She had conjured a treasure trove of monies, gold, silver, copper, bronze and platinum, too.

But -

in the darkness of a moonless night, strangers, it was thought, had broken in by stealth.

They had trashed her dwelling, and found the hidden vault, stealing every coin, every piece of the precious metals....

Debbie & Peter

"THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO"

Autumn skies.

Love the variation in shapes and tones.

My sister was cock a hoop, full of bonhomie.

She’d “come into money” and was now able to purchase a two bedroomed apartment in a Georgian country mansion.

The mansion had once been owned by the family of her bestest friend, once rich as Croesus, now down on their luck.

She’d continue to keep her horse here, the mansion stable block now garages, but she would have her own patch of, beautifully maintained, garden to enjoy.

She’d arrange for the removal of her furniture et al when the paper was complete and signatures exchanged.

She came down to see me, staying only a day and promised a longer visit when she’d moved in.

(Oh dear....)

The Goblins and the Gremlin came to see me, as did the Witch, the Wizard, the Cook, the Housekeeper the Head Gardener and, later, his underling assistants.

They wished to be reassured that in times to come, my sister would want and be permitted, to visit more often.

I could reassure them because, she’d be commuting to her job daily, by car.

The drive there and back would very much exhaust her, sans aucun doute....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

The Mermaid was reclining upon a rock beside the pond, combing her hair, singing softly to herself.

The Goblin and Gremlin and their Hobgoblin friend, Werymn, were perambulating slowly through the dripping, slippery leafed wood.

A witch of the wood appeared from nowhere, her arms laden with artistically chopped fire wood.
She nodded, a brief smile and turned left, striding purposely t’wards a hidden tree glade.

Behind her flew a retinue of Faeries of the wood.

The friends walked on to the fields beyond, stopping briefly to exchange pleasantries with friends and acquaintances: a group of Elves, Imps and Pixies, a six legged mare, a long legged boar and a fox with two heads.

Upon reaching the fields they found themselves accosted by a creature of unspecified origin.

It resembled a huge slug, with crew cut hair down its back.
It’s large eyes had no lids, it possessed no mouth and it’s nose was at the end of two stalks.

By the time they were back in the garden, the friends felt that they’d traveled the globe.
Had met some extraordinary characters and were ready to confront even the Elves....

Interessant?

Vous ne pensez pas?

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

Autumnal colours, fragrances, temperatures and atmosphere.

Hibernation beckons.
Mother Nature offers to us gifts from her treasure trove.

Our pagan ancestors were intimate with Mother Earth, with the heavens.
They sowed and reaped and harvested, grew herbs.
Prepared their own medicinal remedies.

They hunted, fished, cooked, sang, danced.

Life was short, often dangerous, laborious, so they celebrated all in all, as much as could be fitted in.

The Seasonal Equinoxes, special days, the sun, the moon; a plethora of gods and goddesses are but a few examples.

And, they offered sacrifices.

There were autumn fruits and autumn herbs, autumn vegetables and autumn spices.

Gold and red, brown, green and russet.
Maroon and washed out blue and violet.
Harvest colours for a festival of thanksgiving.
A time to dress in bestest finery and fabricate elaborate headwear.

The foundation stone to all of this was, celebration, praise and worship....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

Purple, red gold, orange, yellow, green brown.
Summer fades into Autumn, a time for roasted chestnuts, conker fights and falling leaves.

So, the Spring and Summer Equinoxs are long passed, time to reap the harvest.
If you stroll in the countryside on a still afternoon, you might well get the feeling that pagan gods are abroad.

The other day I was walking in the wood through deep piles of wet leaves, clambering over fallen branches and jumping rushing streams.

I encountered three witches and a variety of woodland faeries, small wild creatures and small woodland Elves.

Of Unicorns and Wizards, Imps and Pixies there were none.

I threaded my way through beds of stinging nettles, brambles, heather and wood flowers and found a quiet glade where I could sit down in the dry and rest and write.

A rustle alerted me to an unknown presence.
Looking up, I perceived a small rose bearded dragon.

It looked at me and I looked at it. We waited.

I pretended to feel calm and collected. Lowered my gaze and continued writing.

The red bearded dragon sidled near, poked its nose into the notebook and squinted at its contents with shortsighted eyes.

Picking up a pencil with his teeth, he began to sketch strange characters upon a fresh page.

With a pinpointed talon, he flipped the notebook into my lap, flared his nostrils and waddled away.

The article I wrote, with the accompanying dragon sketches was like nothing I’d done before or did afterwards. My agent believed none of it.

Did those who read it?

No idea....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

We were in clover.

An Indian summer?!

With global warming, our temperate climate was kaput and, in its place had arrived - tempestuous storms, tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, blistering heat, hunger, disease, ruined crops.

The garden residents and household staff were lucky, I thought, ‘cos our local weather was passable.

Besides, the Elves, Imps and Pixies had been given personal modes of transport, Elfin cars, motorbikes and bicycles.

In addition, they’d been the recipients of a bus donated by the local public transport company.

The Witch had recourse to her broomstick, if necessary and most of the garden residents used public transport, anyway.

The Ghosts and Spectres simply wafted upon air currents and the ghostly Wolves and Wolverines used their feet.

The Wizard had his carpet, the Goblin and Gremlin took the bus or hitched, a lift with the Cook and/or, the Housekeeper.

The Head Gardener and assistants arrived by bicycle and the multifarious visitors by magick....

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

Cosmopolitan Angus was recovered, had returned to the land of his birth.

The garden residents now expected a State Visit by the Queen of Faerie Land.

Her Lord Chamberlain had announced the good news and laid down certain strictures.

The garden residents’ attire must be neat, clean and tidy, their hair must be washed and combed through.

Their teeth must be gleaming and last, but not least, their finger nails, if any, cut and polished.

The day of her visit dawned golden, however, at midday the sky darkened ominously.
The rains fell.

No message came through to advise of a postponement.
But the residents durst not abandon their shelters.

The Queen drove into sight, saw no crowd to greet her and commanded her driver to stop.

Stepping down from her carriage, she stamped her foot in anger.

Her royal wellie, unfortunately, hit a puddle and her purple cloak was splashed with mud.

The situation worsened when her bodyguard surged forward and, adding insult to injury, muddied her face, cloak and gown.

They found their pay pockets severely diminished...

Debbie & Peter

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

Printing presses rolling!

HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

The music of the cantata, “Carmina Burana,” was bliss to my ears, because, the past 2 weeks had very nearly brought on a jolly hockey sticks, nervous breakdown.

My sister had turned up without telling me.

The Cook had contracted flu and the Elves, Imps and Pixies had achieved the impossible by breaking into my car, starting up the engine and driving it straight into a wall.

They had sustained no injuries, but, the damage to the car was incalculable.

To add insult to injury, they’d broken a window and emptied the larder of food.

No thought of a short break had occurred to me.

I was perfectly happy writing articles.

These events changed my mind and I did book a long break; a fortnight in Andalusia, where
the mountain air, the sheer peace and tranquility would surely be most beneficial....

Debbie & Peter

"A NICE SURPRISE IN THE (e)MAIL"

WHITE DWARF magazine #77, p. 16

A special "thank you" to Pedro Panhoca in Brazil for unearthing this memory for me.

The Goblin and Gremlin were undertaking an exercise class.

The weather was raw and the friends felt as though, if they didn’t, they’d turn into glaciers or statues of ice.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies spent each day in the house, the attic rooms, the kitchen, larder and pantry.

The Cook had had to be bribed to accept their presence and the Housekeeper soothed with more biscuits.

The Flower Faeries settled for an empty guest bedroom and the Witch, for an empty wine cellar.

The Unicorn seldom entered the house, the Dragon was far too massive.
The Weasel, Stoat and Mole were asleep, as you know.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat preferred the outdoors.

The Wizard, when he visited, wore an heavy cloak, with hood, thick gloves, goggles and boots.
The Owl had his own ways to keep warm.

The temperatures, they had been warned, would deteriorate further.
That’s too bad, they thought with regret...

Debbie & Peter

0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

Enjoy his full blog @

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/blog-sa.htm

Frederik George Pohl, Jr. was born in New York on November 26, 1919 and died in Palatine on September 2, 2013. He was a writer and publisher of North American science fiction.

When he was a teenager, Pohl, Donald Wollheim, Isaac Asimov, Damon Knight, Cyril Kornbluth, Dirk Wylie, Dick Wilson, Jack Robins and Dave Kyle co-founded the group called Futurians.

Pohl began writing in the late 1930s, using pseudonyms for most of his earlier works. His first publication was the poem "Elegy to a dead satellite: Luna" under the name of Elton Andrews, in the October 1937 issue of Amazing Stories, edited by T. O'Conor Sloane. His first story, a collaboration with C.M. Kornbluth called "Before the Universe", appeared in 1940 under the pseudonym S.D.
Gottesman.

Pohl began his career as a literary agent in 1937, but it was a secondary activity for him until after World War II, when he began to work on it full time. He eventually "represented more than half of the successful writers in science fiction," but his agency was unsuccessful and closed the list in the early 1950s.

Pohl ceased to be Asimov's agent - the only one he had - when he became editor in 1939 to 1943 for two magazines: “Astonishing Stories” and “Super Science Stories”. He was also co-founder of the Hydra Club, a collection of science fiction professionals and fans who met in the late 1940s and 1950s, and worked as an advertising copywriter, writer and book editor for Popular Science. After the war, Pohl began publishing material in his own name and in collaboration with Cyril Kornbluth. Pohl was a frequent guest on the radio program of Long John Nebel, from the 1950s to the early 1970s, and an international speaker.

From 1959 to 1969, Pohl was editor of Galaxy magazine and his sister – Carol - of IF magazine (winner of the Hugo Award for three consecutive years). Frederick's works got to him three Hugos and three Nebula Awards, plus a Gateway, a Memorial and a National Book Award. He eventually became a Nebula Grand Master in 1993 and a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame in 1998. He later also won the J. W. Eaton Lifetime Achievement in Science Fiction from the University of California in 2009.

In the mid-1970s, Pohl acquired and edited novels for Bantam Books, published as "Frederik Pohl Selections". He has also edited several science fiction anthologies. At that time, it had resurfaced, publishing books like Man Plus and the series Heechee. With Gunn in 1975, he set up the Gunn Center for the Study of Science Fiction at the University of Kansas, where he presented many lectures and served at the Intensive Science Fiction Institute and Writing Workshop on Science Fiction. From 1995, when the Theodore Sturgeon Memorial Award became a sworn prize, Pohl composed the bench of jurors with James Gunn and Judith Merril until retiring in 2013.

His works included not only science fiction but also articles for Playboy and Family Circle magazines, nonfiction books and even became the authority for the Encyclopædia Britannica about the Roman Emperor Tiberius.

Pohl's vast work influenced a wide variety of other science fiction writers. His last novel, “All the Lives He Led”, was released on April 12, 2011. At the time of his death, he was working to finish a second volume of his autobiography, which began with “The Way the Future Was” (1979).

Peter Andrew Jones was responsible for the cover art of the collection “Science Fiction: the Great Years”, with its work of art dating from 1976. The alien that comes out of the hole and surprises humans certainly illustrates the impact that science fiction has on reading of a neophyte: surprise, challenge, imposing. This is how the new generations also feel when they come across
the artworks of art of PAJ, which maintains its classic legacy of art, but they also innovate and shape themselves into new times.

Let's agree with one thing: this cover art deserved to cover these yellow parts! How naive this publisher was...

"IN THE STUDIO TODAY"

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HEROES & VILLAINS Volume 1

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/books/book_heroes.htm

The ghost of Michelangelo! Ye gods....
What was he doing in the garden?

This should be inscribed in gold leaf, with illustration, in the garden resident’s Book of Records.

The story would be recounted through the generations for eons, for centuries, forever, and ever.

He chatted amicably in the language the Ghosts and Spectres used amongst themselves, bearing in mind that they spoke in multivariable English - and multifarious other, languages.

The Ghosts and Spectres faded into translucency as dawn broke and the sun rose to
shine wispily in a cloudless, cerulean blue sky.

The Dragon flew by, the Unicorn groomed and the Goblin and Gremlin promenaded.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat swam, as per usual and the Mermaid sang the songs of the Dordogne.

The Witch’s cauldron grew hot, hotter and hotter till the potion within it spewed spells into the air, which shot off in every direction.

The Wizard arrived to be told that he had missed the arrival of a genius.
He bit his lip, stamped his foot and ordered the Witch to message him if Michelangelo should chose to stay....

Debbie & Peter

0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article (1 of 5) >

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

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Role Player Independent was a British RPG magazine published by Symbiosis Publishing Ltd. It existed from December 1992 to August 1994 and featured news, reviews and articles on various RPGs. Several editors and collaborators then went on to work on Valkyrie magazine.

Peter Andrew Jones had some of his artworks used for five magazine covers.

The cover of the number 12 had the cover of "The Curse of Naar", another product of the series Lone Wolf. Even though this gamebook was released in the year of #12’s publication (1993) and featured an engaging life-or-death conflict for the protagonist in Joe Dever's gamebook series, perhaps the choice of cover art was the worst that the magazine made, since it had "Kult" as a guideline, and it is well known that PAJ created great artworks for this macabre RPG, which would make his cover darker and more provocative for the reader.

One possibility of concluding the motif of so many of Lone Wolf's cover art assets taken advantage of the magazine would be the success that Joe Dever's series did at the time. It's a shame the magazine did not get more than 16 issues, because it would be the perfect time to give a more "Kult" touch to the reader...

0 BLOG DO ESTUDIO
Blog article (1 of 5) >

by Pedro Panhoca, our Brazilian game development partner >

Enjoy his full blog @

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/blog-sa.htm

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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The garden Barbecue had been organized by the Witch, as she wanted real bad to build a Mount Everest - high fire.

The Wizard had assisted her, the Ogre fetched and carried and the Goblin and Gremlin directed proceedings.

The Flower Faeries donated fruit teas and chicory coffee, Faerie crafted lemonade, orange juice and apfelsaft.

The Frog, Toad and Water Rat pottered about, wondering whether or not there’d be crumpets and jam.

The Unicorn had accepted an invitation to attend and to take the “acceptable” guests for leisurely, low flying, bare back rides.

The Ghosts and Spectres were gunning for games of Hide and Seek, spooking the unwary and irritating the Ogre.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies were to form an Orchestra and the birds of Rhiannon to sing....

Debbie & Peter

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AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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The Garden residents are having a debate about the origins of Mabon and the meaning of the Autumn Equinox, often shrouded in contradiction and mastery and dilemma even?

Mabon was one of these, a modern invention or, perhaps, a god of secondary import.

Supposedly a Welsh god, no one really, truly knows whether or not he did exist, whether or not he didn’t.

Pwy a ŵyr....

Mabon is a time of mysteries, a time of harmony, of balance but also, a time of change as winter nears.

The autumnal gods and goddesses, like their spring and summer counterparts, dealt out punishments, rewards and reaped the rewards of others....

Pagan life was tough and people, lived their lives in endless fear....

Debbie & Peter

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The garden was lit by magick lanterns, their light dispersing the feathery, grey white mist.

Beneath the Oak a table was laid with victuals, prepared by the Flower Faeries.

Stolen bottles of vintage wine lay under the table, securely locked in hard wooden boxes.

These had been donated by the Elves, Imps and Pixies, who wanted to sample their contents.

In the Oak tree and bushes were hung Faerie lights and the Owl, when he’d returned from the hunt, would act as policeman and security chief.

The birds of Rhiannon had been booked to sing and the Witch and the Wizard to impersonate waiter and waitress.

Coffee and tea would be available, too, and liquers, petite fours and small squares of Greek baklava would be served to those still present at midnight.

The party was fun and the food exceptional.

Best of all, every garden resident was in exuberant good spirits....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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The Ogre was unusually buoyant, because his aunt had taken him to the Fun Fair.

She had purchased hot dogs, salted crisps, fizzy drinks, candy floss; allowed him any number of rides.

T’was rare that an Ogre’s Fun Fair hit town and the opportunity to enjoy was a must.

They had met friends, but thankfully no relations, so were able to let go their inhibitions.
and pretend to be children again.

They forgot the world, their grumpiness, their woes and pessimistic inclinations.

Dusk set in, sleepiness caught them and they were glad when their especial transport arrived.

The Ogre was driven back to the garden and his aunt toddled tiredly through the garden to the wood....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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The Ghosts and the Spectres had been joined by a second pirate, Black Bart, a Welshman of renown.
Courageous, respected.

The already resident pirate was not best pleased and the expressions of apprehension upon the faces of his fellow Ghosts and Spectres, was marked.

The ghostly Werewolves’ and Wolverines’ shackles rose and foam spewed frothily from their gaping mouths.
Their sharp teeth glistened dead white in the pitch darkness of the night.

At the wood end of the garden, a witch sat, eyes closed.
Beside her sat a Troll, a Gnome and an Orc, ignoring one another, watching only
the Witch.

Through the gate and across the lawn came a centipede ant, showing obvious signs of locomotive difficulty.

Its 151 hairy, elongated legs were dragging, its body was visibly deep scratched and torn.

The Faeries of the night fluttered above it, guiding, encouraging, urging it on.

As they neared the Witch, they bunched up to consult and one of their number settled lightly upon her ear.

Something was whispered, the witch’s eyes opened and she cast a piercing glance at the centipede ant.

Rising, she motioned the creature to her side, lowered her head and began to recite a spell in some ancient, obscure language.

The healing process took sometime to work, but just before dawn, the centipede ant resumed its journey, legs carrying it swiftly.
No problem....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

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The Housekeeper and the Cook were deep in conversation, serious, intense, low voiced.

I ascertained the reason later.

Meanwhile.

The Witch wished to see me and had made an appointment for 16.30 that afternoon - on the dot.

She, too, was nervy, upset.

At 16.30, on the dot she rang the front door bell, entered and was ushered into the library.

She plumped down, rather than sat down, stared at the carpet, then launched into a monologue, scarce pausing for breath.

Her story was convoluted, easily misunderstood, but I did finally get the gist of what she was saying.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies had, she told me, decided to play tricks.
To spoil her spell book, steal her wand, scratch her cauldron and throw water upon the fires that she build.

I listened as various ideas threaded snappily through my mind and finally decided to interrupt the flow.

“Summon the Wizard,” I suggested and she, looked startled.
“Why did I not think of that?” she replied.

The Wizard materialised, still half asleep.
“What is it?” he asked.
She explained.

The Wizard closed his eyes, crossed his arms, frowned.

Gad sucks!

His long, claw like fingers, snapped.

He tossed his cloak to the ground, punched the air and “Ye gods!”
It rained Elves, Imps, Pixies, cats and dogs.

Frogs, toads and water snakes, fish, tadpoles and water hens.
The Elves, Imps and Pixies?
Never again.

The End....

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

The Dark Cave. . . . . .

Wizard and Witch, regal Unicorn, and, of course, their guardian Dragon.
The garden residents were so well protected....

But -
they really could find no way to keep the Elves at bay.

The Elves and Imps and Pixies were exhibitionists and tricksters, trained to thieve and despoil the place of residence they shared with fantastical others.

T’was a stormy October day, awash with rain, the wind tempestuous.

The Ogre had remained at home, the Unicorn had skipped his grooming.

The Flower Faeries sheltered in the Owl’s warm and comfortable tree house.

The Owl was winding down, resting, the Flower Faeries sewing - quietly.
No talking.

The Goblin and the Gremlin promenaded around the garden, fighting manfully ‘gainst the head wind.

The Witch was at her cauldron, having had to place it, fill it, light the bonfire ‘neath it, by casting a magick spell.

The birds of Rhiannon had had to cancel their visit.

The Wizard had stayed away.

The Elves, the Imps and Pixies, irrepressible as ever, had locked themselves in an attic room to indulge in games of gin rummy.

The Mouse, the Spider and the Fly were hidden in a roomy mouse hole.

Downstairs, the Cook baked bread, the House Keeper “did the books.”

Tomorrow should be so much more English temperate....
would it not?

Debbie & Peter

"SIMULACRA" - The Card Game

Realms Card - newly created.

The Hidden Valley . . . . . .

Sanctimonious Sonja, the cool cat, was looking decidedly not.
Her long, bronze coloured fur was saturated and her wide nostriled, squashed nose had been
slashed.

She was a rare visitor to the garden, preferring the wide open plain.

Her manner was smug and superior and when countered, she could scratch or bite viciously,
with no compunction at all.

The Witch offered first aid, the Flower Faeries offered milk, but she ignored these “second rate” creatures.

The garden residents were surprised to find Sonja the cat still padding the lawn three days later.

The Wizard had chosen to visit that day and arrived by magick carpet.

Sonja, the sanctimonious cat, was, apparently, very impressed.
She approached him and showed him her sad, sorry face.
A teardrop rolled down her nose.

He advised her to accompany him to where the Witch sat, stirring her sweet smelling potion.

The Witch rummaged round in her store cupboard, produced a small bottle, uncorked it and
poured its contents into a bowl.

She sponged the wounds, but left them exposed.
Covering them over was ill advised, she explained.

She remained in the garden for a further two weeks, the wounds healing lickety split.

One morning she vanished, without explanation, but, we are expecting her return momentarily....

Debbie & Peter

LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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Consistent the Hee Hee bird was not.
His call was on going, repetitive, irritating.

He’d arrived from the Upper Blackness upon the back of the Unicorn, unbeknownst.

The Ogre met him first by dint of tripping over him.

The Hee Hee bird’s high pitched, giggle shriek shocked the garden residents into a stunned silence.

The Flower Faeries endeavoured to calm him, the Goblin and Gremlin to distract him.

The Weasel, Stoat and Mole hid down an empty rabbit hole and the Water Rat splashed pond water on his razor haired forehead and cheeks.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies watched and listened. And, by the time the Hee Hee bird had stopped shrieking, they could mimic his call with bells on.

The Witch’s nerve endings had finally snapped.
T’was impossible to cast her especial spells to the sound of the bird’s incomprehensible screeches.

The Wizard zoomed down upon his work worn carpet on the dot of receiving her telepathic messages for help.

He searched through her spell book, found a satisfactory spell and together they murmured the magick words of eviction.

Seconds later, the Hee Hee bird, immobilised, silenced, faded quietly into the Shades of Nowhere....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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The Elves were on the warpath for, I had confiscated their Elfin motorcars, their motorbikes and bicycles.

They were, consequently, marooned in the garden till such time as I might relent.

The other residents sought to keep out of their way and if they did chance to meet them, tried hard to be polite.

The Flower Faeries were too busy to pay much attention, absorbed as they were in preparing their winter wardrobes.

And grooming the irrepressible Unicorn.

The Goblin and the Gremlin continued with their walks, oft too deep in conversation to notice the Elves - or too absorbed in debating the answer to everything.

The Unicorn, the Elves knew, would strike back without reservation.

The Weasel, Stoat and Mole did feel themselves to be vulnerable and the Frog, Toad and Water Rat relocated to the wood.

The Cook, the Housekeeper and the Head Gardener got together one morning and carefully plotted a plan of action if need be, with back ups.

The Elves’ spiteful behaviour came to a temporary halt on a stormy wet day, when they were caught in a downpour at the bus stop.

The resultant colds, coughs and streaming noses from which most of them succumbed, meant that behaving badly was on hold whilst they recovered in bed.

Behaving better á la Elf was the result of this episode.

I returned their vehicles, gritted my teeth and awaited in trepidation for, the return of their usual mode of social interaction....

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

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Late night in the garden some weeks ago, I was seated under the Oak, smoking a cigar.

The Goblin and the Gremlin were indulging in a pow wow with their erudite, studious, night counterparts.

The night creatures scuttled about their business, the Fireflies flitted, the Owl hunted determinedly in the far yonder wood.

A lantern shone bright from just inside the garden gate and a nebulous figure strode t’wards me.

He lifted his head and I recognised the features as those of Sir Francis Drake.

When he saw me, he bowed slightly and approached me to shake my hand.

The conversation that followed could scarcely be called such, as the language he spoke was incomprehensible to me.

It was not long before he wandered away, deep in thought.

The Owl flew low over the garden and suddenly swooped, catching in his beak a small snack for later.

The night Witch’s cauldron frothed and bubbled and I could see her spells shooting off in every direction.

A beaming smile lit her face, her teeth glinted in the moonlight.

I looked to the heavens and, streaking like a shooting star, there he was - the magickal Unicorn, his powerful wings spread wide....

Egad!!

Debbie & Peter

"LEGENDARY ART MAGAZINE" -

AUTUMN EQUINOX 2018 ISSUE

Coming very, very soon!

The Ghosts and the Spectres were socialising amicably.

Encircling them were the ghostly Wolves and Wolverines, their sharp teeth conspicuous, their jaws ‘alathering.

The Witch of the night, the night creatures and the Faeries were taking part in celebrations of the autumnal equinox.

In the star festooned sky the signs of the zodiac sparkled gold.

A comet flashed, a Cuckoo called.

Through the bright skies rode a Warrior God, driving a racing chariot drawn by a dashing Friesian horse.

The creatures of the night were silent, still, watching the chariot, watching the comet, watching the stars and in wonder, studying the moon.

So,

the Ghosts and the Spectres, the ghostly Wolves and Wolverines, took possession of the garden and the rustling wood beyond....

Debbie & Peter