The Horned God and the Wild Hunt – Penultimate version – Join in while you can – And a huge thank you to everyone who has taken part so far.
Adrian Spendlow Magazine Edition
Snappy chat, looking back at the recent past, punchy parts, highlights and future happenings.
I will try to be light, I would like to be light for this is a time of tears; far too many tears. If we can try to spread love, be fair but resolute in justice, if we can embrace the lost and the forever injured. Cry those tears yes, as we look up for rainbows through the glistening. I wish to bathe the world in glorious light.
That being said, I am a right grump and a grumbler. You know what I say, ‘Things were different before the changes.’ Think about it and know it’s true.
So it must be time for a visit to OldMan Comics…Well I guess it is time I grabbed some elephant tusks.Not that I really need any ivory or anything
But soon there won’t be any elephants leftNow Britain has legalised the import of Ivory you got to grab it while you can
I am getting used to the idea of local small town news. I had experience of it before I came here to live. Yonks back I said to a musician friend how the guy from the Scarborough paper loved my stuff, how he was really encouraging and used everything I sent him. Nah, said Dave, he is just desperate for stuff to fill the paper with.
When mum and dad first moved here we were taken with the headlines….
Then the letters pages was filled with concern, wishing Esmie Smethick lots of love and luck with finding her cat.
Then the astounding headline.
How pleased everyone in the letters page was.
One highlight of recent weeks has been my feature on Quay Street here in Scarborough here in the vacinity of this laptop in fact. Local history from the rich word of mouth of locals.
This was the quay. Step across from our step and there is the Three Mariners Inn, and there is the harbour wall, the old harbour wall. The first of a few built as the land builds up here, (I think this is where everywhere else’s errosion turns up). As buildings on that side of the street are reworked there is the harbour. All around it are dug up limpet shells discarded from the top of the wall by long long ago fishermen.
No. 1 Salmon Steps, (the only house on Salmon Steps), was built circa 1780 so perhaps salmon were caught using limpets???
Quay Street the blog has proved immensely popular, not just as local history but around the world as interest is peeked in fishing, shipping and sea rescues.
There is a link at the foot of the page – go enjoy.
Which leads on nicely to Seafest.
I will be storytelling on West Pier Saturday and Sunday (22nd and 23rd July) 12 and 2 then moving on to things all a bit more grown up…
Seafest 2017 presents
‘of Soldiers and Sailors and things a bit fishy’ – A fascinating show
By storyteller Adrian Spendlow
For members and visitors of the (newly reopened) Royal British Legion Ex-Service People’s Social Club, Bar Street, Scarborough.
Sunday 23rd July 5 till 7 Admission free with charitable activities.
Tales of daring, endurance, superstition, adventure, personal experience and amazing history.
Long tails, Britain invaded, North Sea rescues, Victory by Butterfly, Strangeness in Scarborough and much much more.
Bob is Gramey
At last we can reveal the true identity of Bob, the companion of OldMan, yes he really in real life is; Gramey. Except Gramey isn’t called Gramey anymore because he says he doesn’t like it. so we still have no idea who he is.
Anyway, Gra and I have been working on a York Stars project empowering people through the arts.
As part of that we wrote I know someone who poems. This is the one I did.
I know someone who had spikey blue hair
I know someone who has a secret identity
I know someone who drinks sharks fin tea
I know someone who changed his name to be in a band
I know someone who has biscuit days, vegetable days and pie days
I know someone who watches blue bars
I know someone who cooks mushrooms all soggy
I know someone who records birds sounds to upset people
I know someone who likes Boney M
And that person is Gramey Smith
At last the shopkeepers secret is revealed, enter the world of tiny things in the link at the foot to discover mighty (but miniature) revalations in this newly updated blog post.
Stephen Fry was right.
And it might even be quite interesting too. A banana is a berry! A strawberry isnt a berry because the seeds are on the outside. A plum isnt a berry because it only has a stone or just one seed which doesn’t count and it hasnt got a shell. A berry has an outer shell (the skin) and contains seeds. So here at last, by random chance is the proof. All I did was bite. The banana did the splitting into three seeds all on its own. It sometimes happens; if you left a narna to dry there would be the three seeds. Here they are in full clarity…..
Ales and Tales
I have produced two book length blogs over the last month or so. There is the collection of Skaldic writings I have written for my chieftain Georg, which are linked to below. There are also the results of the best job I ever had. It is often quite good to be paid to tell stories in pubs, it is even better to be paid to drink beer and listen to other people’s stories. What amazing stories they were. You don’t tell people in York pubs what to talk about, you sit and you listen, and you listen good.
And the First Stage of a Publication
A mass of research has gone into this forthcoming online Graphic Novel: Doom of Zeus. The gripping tale of Earth Mother’s creatron of the monstrous revenger Typhon. It sounds like I made it up. Given that I researched the whole thing while in hospital having a major operartion and being filled with morphine, perhaps I did. These Greek myths though, you can’t make them up, they did that already!!
Follow the link below to the first draft of the G.N. D of Z. There are also links there to the individual stories of gods and goddesses I developed during the course of the research. Athene, Pan, the Fates and Hermes the Babe are in there.
Yes I was on a lot of morphine at the time. I recall shelves full of nightshirts rippling along. Strange apperatus seemed to dangle from the sky. The whole room was repeating my conversations about the head of Buddha.
I was aware for most of the time that this was all drug induced, and didn’t lose insight, well not that often, I did really believe the nurses were dancing though. The night staff that is, I saw them in the distance in silhouette having whispered meetings, then in my mind, they broke into competative disco routines, then went back to the meetings. At one point they broke off from a serious debate to have a go at a demonstration of the ministry of silly walks.
When the drugs were wearing off I described these illusions to one of the night staff and he said, ‘Ah yes, we do do that’.
Strangest though. During the research for Hermes I was listing interesting observations I was gathering from Robert Graves Greek Myths and I found a strange thing listed in my notes. At some point among such as Hermes had golden sandals there in the midst was, ‘Hermes was a taxi driver who delivered bendy ferret.’
Luckilly it didn’t make it into the final blog (I think).
Luke says, – “My Dad is publishing a graphic novel, this is the first draft. It’s still awaiting the artwork so he’s contributed his own, temporary mini-masterpieces.
His style is pretty unique as it is but add to the fact he did a lot of it off his nut on painkillers makes it something special! – He’s still waiting for the artist so the first draft features his own illustrations and his artistic style is… unconventional.
They make a dramatic and terrifying tale oddly hilarious.
Please have a look, he worked on the majority of it in hospital having cancer cut out and was on heavy medication for the majority of the time so it’s quite trippy in places!” Typhon Doom-slayer
Of the Cheiftain’s Door ‘Sharon’ says this, “This is very powerful – challenging – and beautiful. Love your words from within and beyond.”
Oh, and another book length one almost; my guide to Living History for Reenactors
Oh, alright, if I have ever upset you, which is quite likely, I am hereby crawling on my belly