Waiting for the moment, for the moment to arise


I think it is official now that I’m avoiding the Majellan Urban Tribe at the moment. I caused a scene at the last session I was at, which was over a month ago. Too hot, too tired, too frustrated. I wanted out in air where I could breathe. In the weeks that have followed I have found it easier to find other things to do, finding other peoples, reclaiming the time. The changed man is looking for me, perhaps in time I will answer him . . . but not now.

Today I went to the library. It took me nearly two months to finish the books I got out last time. Robin Fleming’s history of Britain after the fall of the Roman Empire to the Norman Conquest was my favorite, and the last that I finished. She combined archeaelogical research with historical records with some interesting observations. It was fascinating to read how production centres in Britain collapsed as Roman civilisation retreated. There was a period of 200 years when nails weren’t made in the West European Isles. As we enter a post-petroleum age what industries are going to collapse? What will be out of our grasp?

In comparison the history of Al-Andalus was disappointing because it was a document based history and acknowledged that there are gaps in the record.

I have got overly ambitious now and found five books to get out:

  • Old Malacca
  • Faith and Power: Religion and Politics in the Middle East by Bernard Lewis
  • A Web of Air by Philip Reeve
  • Stamping Butterflies by Jon Courteney Grimwood
  • Let The Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist
  • I’m reading a history of Christianity in Malaysia so I want to read more about the country’s history. It turns out that it’s a small collection in my local library, no general histories and mostly to do with the Emergency. The book by Bernard Lewis looked interesting. Philip Reeve is a young adult writer whose works I greatly admire. Grimwood’s book is the next of his that I could find in the library and I will puzzle my way through it after his Arabesk trilogy: Pashazade, Effendi and Felaheen; and Lindqvist jumped out at me and I felt I should read it to find out what not one but vampire movies (Swedish and American) are on about.

    At the harbour mouth the Lookout Head Light House; down the harbour, on the south shore the fortified island; then the port town Roundhouse Bay; beyond it Sea Bird Egg Island where the quarantined land; the harbour narrows under the Harbour Bridge joining the city of Lamborough to the dachas on the south shore of the wide bay beyond; after the bridge the ferries dock at the Dogs Ferry Station which opens into the city. The train goes under the Hythe Hills to join the city to the port.

    Character Sketch

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    Woman- black hair, blue eyes like lapis lazuli, red lips, red hands, black scarf, ankle-length black dress, black stockings, black shoes, 40ish, idealist. Miss Arbalest: very stiff assistant, pin-stripe.

    Character Sketch

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    Son is a cricketer, knitted jersey in two clashing colours, dark tie, cream jacket, socks pulled up. Skinny, glasses, floppy hair, high forhead. Effeminate.

    (This character is developed as a dependent in another character sketch.)

    Character Sketch

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    Tall, slim, dark tanned skin, short blonde hair, attractive Sklovsker woman, libraryan (sic), works with pneumatic machinary, in a backless leather orange-red bodice, not fastened, keeps tugging it up, barely covered boobs falling out, red jacket, covered in badges, purple shorts, belt over tartan breeches tucked into striped socks, black boots, scary aunt’s pink scarf, chains and veils. Intelligent but thick with everyday things. Likes a bottle of wine.

    Character Sketch 3

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    One of my favourites: Anghelo (the gh-sound sounds like it’s gargled). He’s a fighter, a gun-slinger, a swordsman, a martial-artist. (In Hypercronius the martial arts are called Folkfold, derived from the childhood threat, “I know origami, people folding, and other Japanese words!”)

    He could have stepped out of a western novel: long black suede coat, trimmed with fur, it’s beginning to look faded in places; high-buttoned black waistcoat; black suit pants; white shirt; short black tie; dark glasses. Sadly the effect is lost due to the permanent unwashed smell that hangs around him. He is fearful of the sun and doesn’t change. Ironically he’s naturally tanned from a life outdoors. He’s not a person who looks good dressed like this on his muscular frame.

    He has a face like a pug. He doesn’t smile or react. His face is inanimate. Long black wavy hair which he wears tied back in a bun, a thick beard like a Victorian gentleman.

    Anghelo is for hire. Watch him in a fight. He has weapons hidden on his body. He’s a bounty hunter or a bodyguard. What’s he doing here? He could be dangerous.

    Character sketch 2

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    I have not had the time the last couple of days to post a character sketch. I have updated one I call Sleazy the Dwarf. I suspect that there is a lot more that I can write into this character; he’s about half incomplete (for a given value of one half). He is described as a balding dwarf with a long grey beard down his chest, just a fringe of silver hair around his head. His appearance is not appealing: greasy, oily skin, prominent nose, thin lips. His attitude is cocky. At the moment he is a secondary character more than someone who carries a plot forward. He is one of the few characters sketches I have who is not explicitly human

    Character Sketch 1

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    This is the character that meets us on arrival, probably leaning against his old wagon, waiting to meet us. A good choice for a character to begin with.

    His dog’s in the back. Don’t worry, it may be big but it won’t bite. It’s a gentle animal.

    He’s dressed as a farmer: woollen trousers, shirt, straw hat. He has long hair. It’s gone white and he wears it in a pony tail. If he takes his hat off we will discover that he has had it tinted at the front, red and blue. He has a thin boney face, probably the kind that is weathered rather than wrinkled, and blue eyes, probably a washed-out pale blue. A pendant earring hangs from one ear.

    He is the cantor for a local religious community. At one stage he will be discovered leading the singing in the shrine/chapel, barefoot. I don’t know what he wears otherwise, probably boots which he has removed while he is at liturgy. Without knowing the background of the community I cannot say whether he is leading hymns, prayers, bhajans or sutras.

    At this stage we will probably meet his cat. It is ginger with decided musical tastes: ancient, nothing modern or else we will see it walking out.

    I can imagine what kind of person this is: gentle, a little bland, with an independent streak and alternative. I have met people like that. He hasn’t been labelled with a name yet.