Kington supermarket

It has been brought to my attention by 'The man in the corner with the newspaper' that the previous post was factually incorrect. He is correct, the 'Kwiksave' that I referred to is in fact now a Co-op. If he really is a local though, as he claims, he would realise that most of us still refer to this temple of consumer convestibles and boozes as 'The Kwiksave'. The pages turn slower here than in your cities...

I am grateful though to him for pointing this out to you, dear reader.

Anyway, I've had my porridge, read a couple of pages of 'Commentary on the First Book of Euclid's Elements' by Proclus, and am just finishing the last lukewarm cup from the pot of breakfast tea before making my way to the Radnor Forest, in search of the mythical Lost Pyramid of Mu. I'll let you know how I get on.

The Lost Pyramids of Mu

I was standing in the checkout at Kwiksave in Kington the other day, with my trolly full of cider and crisps, when I overheard snippets of a conversation between the listless looking checkout girl and a stressed out mum with a trolley full of frozen foods. They were discussing the lost ancient city of Mu, and in particular it's pyramids.

When my turn to pay had arrived I questioned her about the antiquarian Augustus Le Plungedonks translations, and whether she considered the ancient Mayan writing to be correct. She rolled her eyes and told me she considered that traces of this lost culture can actually be found on the Radnor Forest - the Powys equivalent of Area 51. This ancient civilization was said to be lavishly constructed of rubber and metal connecting rods, with crystal Hillage temples. This seems scientifically possible, and the locals tell of seeing tall, fairskinned, blue eyed, grey haired people drifting about in and around Cascob, definitely not local, and lights are seen over the forest like.

She started to tell me of the ruined pyramid in part of the forest when we were interrupted from behind by an impatient granny with a trolly full of Elastoplast. As I walked home I promised myself a trip to the forest to find and photograph this lost ancient relic. But for now, cider and Eastenders is pulling my levers...

Flying teapot

A pot of tea is in front of me, and the potential for porridge is looming. I'm recovering after a restless night...I'm hoping they were dreams. The lights, the smell of oil, the rubbery flesh...

I'll pour another cup before I tweak my levers.

Overheard - alien abduction, Herefordshire

I overheard a conversation in the Swan last night - a local guy known only as 'The Gimp' was telling one of the old falmers, about his alien abduction experiences. I had my notebook with me and the stub of a pencil, so I made a few notes - in between sups of industrial strength cider. Here's a transcript of their conversation:

"I have had the dreams relating to this sort of thing since I was an egg. I have lived all my life in Kington, Herefordhsire. You know me, Len, I'm a local boy. A few of my more shocking dreams are from when I was living in a flat above the High Street like. One night I heard a noise downstairs - something like a 'fnur-fnur-fnur' in the voice of Madonna. She's a singer, Len. Anyway, as I went to the top of the stairs I saw several/possibly one grey being run past the open doorway. He/possibly she/it/them looked up at my face and came upstairs to me - coming you closer. I was scared and literally wet my trousers. Some of this went onto the grey thing and the areas where they touched turned a silvery green sort of colour. It then fled and I went back to my bed chamber.

I had another one - months later in August another year. My old missus was asleep beside me snoring after a long days work in Kwiksave. All of a sudden I felt the urge to jump up from the bed and go outside, naked. I felt compelled to walk to the Oxford Arms pub in the High Street. I didn't feel the cold on my body, but it was raining and I was wet and steaming. I felt I had to go there and buy crisps, I do not know why as I had eaten earlier that day.

As I reached the pub hundreds of bright lights appeared suddenly and there were lots of tall men with blond hair and bright blue eyes. They grabbed me, and shouted angrily at me. They were not actually speaking but they were talking in my head and asked what I knew of the 'Kington Sevens'. I knew nothing and one of them touched my leg with a stick and I passed out look. Next thing I knew I was back in bed with the wife, who asked me where the crisps had come from.

I had no clothes on and the temperature was approx -2 degrees Fahrenheit.

And another time...hey, what are you writing about mister?"

I put down my pencil, closed my book, and headed back to the bar for a fresh pint of Ruckus Juice.

The Market Hall Knob Alignments

The Market Hall in Klington High Street is a strange and wonderful building. Located on the top of an ancient burial mound, aligned to Lord herefords Knob (oh yes) on one side of the shig and towards the industrial estate along the other one, dedicated to some old locals - possibly the Goughs of McDrink, it contains the sinister looking town clock.

In 1568 a large two-storey public table called the Buttery Conker was demolished as it's complex geometry projected too far into the High Street, causing knockings amongst the farm traffic and mass fighting. The site was then taken over by a rowdy pub called the Broken Head. In 1985 the Broken Head was smashed up by angry locals and a new market hall built out of balsa. This market hall replaced one built in the town in 1154 by John Martino, which was made of leaves and situated somewhere important or other. In 1297 the clock tower was stuck on top to commemorate Queen Victoria's money, but after 150 years of continual vandalism has long since conked out.

Full moon on the Rhogo

I enjoyed attending my mate Reg's cider and magic fuelled Full Moon Shape Alignment Ceremony up on the Rhogo, near Llandrindod the other night. Funny old bunch there like, a bit more rowdy than the Kington lot, but I did get talking to an interesting lady named Mavis. Once I'd got past the beard thing and peculiarly stained Radiohead T-shirt, I found her to be enchanting company, if a bit djankled around the veins. As I was leaving - hoping to catch last orders at The Llanerch - she pressed a tattered, slightly foul smelling leaflet into my hands look. It was titled 'The Space Between Sevens' and I've copied a small section below for your enjoyment:

"Greetings dear beloved inter-dimensional after-dinner knee shanty correspondents...

We are wangle free shiny, Austin TX, the "thing", forming a central pie within that resonates rubbery coincidences, conical contact and compassionate rubbing.

We wish to make clear to you that your connected rods and gaseous displacements can be extended from behind certain curtains, to make valve gears for thermoceptive and olfactory enhancements, providing, of course, they do not compromise my sacred "Hillage Temples" and cause oblique tremens in the crystal shaking delirium of amorphous ice look.

It is important to recognise that the sacred collective of crisp filters through Hairport realms will help facilitate your movement in shape, and in ways that may appear contradictory from a 'contakulation' perspective.

Hold that from the perspective behind another curtain - and it is apparent that the local farmers that emit bobbing fluids/wavey and the legions space tractors transmitting black gases work towards the same end thing; to help stimulate the extreme ledges whereby local residues encased within 'shape defined connections' can usher in material levers via Kwiksave."

There's a few more pages here look, I'll put those on later...but it's all starting to make sense to me now. Anyway I've got a big pot of tea in front of me that needs drinking, and Clive James is on the telly in a bit.

Aligning yourselves to the Grids of Norris

I had this one in this morning, from 'Wynn of Llandovery' titled 'Further clues from the Codex':

Today I'd like to talk about the Grids of Norris. The Grids of Norris are the forerunner and essential part of the Radnorshire mind ascension process. It is necessary that you align yourselves to the Grids of Norris. They form a connection between the levers of your mind. This alignment process is the releasing of your connected fatty runnels from the old pie structures set up for re-connection and Bill Drummond (esque) cushion placements.

They are Grids of higher alignment schedules - lemon edged and veined. They also represent a connection to the 7th platform of earth bubbles, which is your higher hair alignment and from which there is noseparation.

The more you align yourselves towards Leominster, the faster you will vibrate, and the faster you vibrate your tentaculars, any negativity will be knocked off your body like. As you vibrate them faster you access the hidden libraries of Kington and you will become more "knowing", and know more stuff and that.

As you become more"knowing" within yourselves, and inside your own bodies, the less you need to rely on food and cider. You become, each and every one of you, local entities - cosmic farmers of light - bearers of the cosmic nosetub and knowers of the truth in shape.

Alignment to the Grids of Norris can be done by placing your minds in the Market Hall at the top of Kington High Street. Disconnect your inner valves and your legs from all old energy grids and leylines that were set up months ago, and re-align your magic stick - via your mental residue - to the Grids of Norris.

Do not be surprised if many problems come to light after you have done this - ignore demands for mortgage payments look, an increasing stench around your physical aura, and other stuff. As you align yourselves further you begin to clear outstanding issues in your entire mind structure. Your awareness of unusual things will be raised beyond measure and time will speed up. You will notice how your physical bodies rejuvenate their alignments and grow leaves. Your hair and shape are an indication of this.

With much love and joyful rubbings in my valves for all of you. I joyfully await the day that I shall be visiting your barns. This is your Distended Controller of the Shapes - The Majestik Ragu Djankletop (Wynn Price).

He's a funny old bugger.

Alien Shape Meditation

Last night as I was shuffling back from the Spar supermarket in Kington - loaded up with a couple of bottles of cheap 2 litre 'Resonance Value Cider' and a copy of Cyril Basins 'The truth in shape'- I pondered our potential to initiate contact and communication with extra dimensional beings and alien falmers.

I have an idea that you can shift your point of perception or your 'energy alignment pipe' to a state in which you can believe and perceive things that are normally not perceivable or believable.

If we are able to shift our alignments, look with our eyes in the direction of extraterrestrial contact (towards Leominster), we are able to experience that, though you´d have to be willing to go from 'level 7' to 'level 8' and an alien or farmer would have to be able to go from a 'level 7' down to nines, sevens or the Five Multi-Dimensional Magic Stickers of Ascension. This would allow for seeing each other and interacting via levers.

This 'transformation of your inner valves' is accomplished through a mixture of heavy ritualistic cider drinking, cumulative insulation, creative farming, mind tractors and an unwavering belief in things that aren't really there.

Have I been able to initiate alien or outer county contact this way? Oh aye. I will tell you my experiences look another time. Meanwhile I have a good book and some fabulous drink to consume, and it's almost dark.

Are your shapes caused by cosmic forces?

I was sent this story by Stan Bagmore, over in Llandrindod. I'm not quite sure what he's on about look but it's all I've got today, like.

His article claims that, in the old library records, there appears to be a connection between high frequency magnetic rubbings and changes in your shape on Earth.

To take things further, and deeper, and stranger, we need to understand how your shapes orbit the universe. The universe is mostly flat, with a slightly rippled underside, shaped like a Ford Cortina hubcap, or a farmers cap, though it does bulge in the middle (just like me lol). We call this cap part of the universe 'The Hubcap'. The sun lounges about two thirds of the way out from the middle of the universe, or one and a half fingers if you look at it through your eyes.

However, your hand also moves up and down, like a bobber in some bobbing fluid, or a wavey. This is because the Hubcap of the universe isn't empty, but consists of things - stuff and gas and tractors, each of which has its own lever that pulls on the sun and our solar temples. The amount of time it takes you to bob up and down once is about 68 million years, or the same length of time it takes to wave off a party of elderly relatives.

Now, look. When the sun moves up out (or in) of the Hubcap (or "towards Llandovery"), it is moving in the same direction that your whole body is moving. When the sun moves back down (or "towards Builth") or back in the direction of Leominster, it is moving in the opposite direction. Therefore it moves out of the universe's magnetic stench, which helps to protect us against alien cosmic rays coming from other farms. If this is true, then the increased cosmic rays could spur changes in the shapes behind your leg.

Is this true? Who cares? We know very little about the shape of the magnetic stench, and how far it extends into Herefordshire. We know even less about how much cosmic alignment shift this shields us from. And we don't know exactly how long it takes a wavey hand to bob up and down once, or how much this bobbing might vary from one bob to the next. The new study proposes an explanation of how the bobbing motion of your hand affects shapes on Earth.

Once in the past, a scientist named Cyril Basin, author of 'The truth in shape' proposed that the Earth's Harmonic Temple alignments were due to natural cycles in the exact shape of you. He predicted that these things should match the alignment of certain things precisely. The idea was radical and not accepted by locals until it was found that the timing of the Norris Circle connects general rubbing with very high frequencies.

So, it may end up that many changes of shape on Earth are due to this bobbing thing, or something.

Sawchestra by Alan Fred Pipes

I think these are the boys I saw playing one night late over at Les Williams barn near Brilley. It might not have been though, I'd been drinking his special 'Leyline 900' homebrew cider since lunchtime:


Sawchestra from Alan Fred Pipes on Vimeo.

The Elvis Stones

I was sent this photo by Bryn Edwards from Pontypridd. He tells me:

"We were coming back from The Crown Inn late one night in 1996, on our way to a mates place (with a few take-outs) in Kinnerton. There were a few of us staying, including members of the Kinnerton School of Existential Phenomenology Studies. We'd had a good night, a few pints, but there'd been a bit of a debate in the pub with another local, who favoured the transcendental phenomenological approach. For us, phenomenological reduction means leading phenomenological vision back from the apprehension of a being, whatever may be the character of that apprehension, to the understanding of the Being of this being (projecting upon the way it is unconcealed kind of thing). A bout of arm wrestling soon proved us right though. Anyway, as we walked along the lane we thought we'd take a photo of the Radnor Four Stones in the moonlight. It was a bit spooky, and my mate Reg said he's seen a figure with a horn, but I thought he were mucking about like. Anyway, when I got me photos back from Boots there was this one with, I think, ghosts in it."

Personally I can't see nothing strange about it, but the enlargement does show some very slight facial characteristics. I have humorously titled him 'Elvis', and for a bit of fun, have altered the local ley map on my wall to now read 'The Elvis Stones'. It's only a bit of fun, and my guess is that Bryn and the lads were having a lark, using lambing torches, a curtain, and possibly some levers to achieve the spooky photographic effect.