h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A propos what, morrie?

How are you? I see the prince of darkness has been annoying you again.

Love

fergus

See, you got it in one.

I'm rather splendiferous, just bought my dream bicycle, one of those lovely pashley classics, nice low step in, beautiful basket, ah, it's like riding an armchair, and I look so gorgeous on it, two wolf whistles in two miles, now that I don't mind.

- I never wear lipstick this colour myself.

And how are you, my loveable rogue, definately sweater weather (or a hoody in my case). So cold I bought myself a new hat, a girl can never have too many hats. I'm blithering, it's the bicycle, fantastic brooks leather saddle, sprung to perfection, I shall have fun with all those pot holes.

I can't find the bluddy Norse myth and legend, but when I do, and I can source the names, I've a story to tell you.

The town bike, eh? I should keep that saddle locked up at night if I were you, morrie: malfeasants are about, as I don't need to remind you.

I'm thinking of taking on a hat myself. 'Aven't worn one since I were a lad, apart from the occasional holiday panama. But now I might cover my head, and look distinguished to boot if I can find a handsome one.

A friend of mine, who always wore and designed elegant hats, was until recently president, or Grand Vizier or whatever they call them, of the Ancient Guild of Milliners. I'll have to ask him for some samples. I also used to be a Luton FC fan, having been raised not far from that dismal town, so there's another hatter connection. Then again, I'm barking, some say, but that's down to the residual mercury in the Lea Valley water supply.

Have fun with those pot holes.

fergus

A lumberman and his apprentice were looking at some planks, and the boy said: "'Ere, Mr Arkwright, what do you call them holes?"
"Why, lad," said Arkwright, "Them's knot holes."
"Funny," said the boy, "they look like holes to me."

I take it that your saga story will be better than that.

I'm hiring the saddle out for sniffing fests! Ooooh hats are marvellous (sp?), too few men wear them. On men I like berets, have to be a certain type of man, but berets with those built in peaks are good (obviously always in black) or those large caps that look like you should be wearing clogs at the other end, tends to depend on the coat though. I have numerous hats, love my red beret, but also my mohair thing.

Luton FC, what is the matter with you man, that's like supporting Leighton Buzzard. Never really supported a football team, but used to like going and watching Watford at home, before the days of seats, nice atmosphere in the stands.

You like Nick Cave? Saga will come.

Fantastic day in store tomorrow, it's a rare me day, so off for a massage and then a magickal thing in the evening with girlfriends.

Fergie, thanks braveheart, you got me from the straight off.

I watched Watford a few times, morrie, being also fairly local, but they weren't any good in those days. The Luton Town-Watford local derbies were always . . . er . . . confrontational, shall we say?

I think men look nerdy in berets, except for French peasants and Basques. (I don't mean men in basques, no. Don't even like to think about that). You know, those very wide berets they wear in Vizcaya. I'm thinking more Humphrey Bogart, or possibly Hardy Amies.

Enjoy your massage and your magickal girlfriends.

fergus

Massage was lovely, went on my bicycle and ended up posing to have my photograph taken with Japanese tourists, apparently I look quintessentially English. Have to record Rolf Harris' 'Two Little Boys' for pathworking tonight, we're concentrating on astral travelling along our lifetimeline to between the age of 0-7, to find a happy memory. Also got to record theme to Pink Panther, Sylvester and Tweety Pie ('I taught I taw a puddy cat") and dig out The Wizard of Oz.

I think a certain type of man can carry off a beret, I don't think any type of man can carry off a basque, I don't like basques, I prefer corsets.

I don't think I've ever been to Luton, or Peterborough, haven't been to Hemel Hampstead either, probably am not missing much.

Ever been in a punch up then, had your glasses broken, actually I'm not sure you wear glasses?

Anyway, first part of saga (3 part dramatisation under way, only kidding, it's pants really, but I love the end, the end that will be in the third part).

Skadi, the daughter of the storm god Thiazi, was furious to learn of her father’s death at the hands of the gods in Asgard. Tying on her snow shoes and slinging her bow and quiver of sharp arrows over her shoulder; she set off immediately to avenge his death. Right into the hall of the of the gods she waked and challenged all who were brave enough to fight with her.

The gods were entranced by Skadi, the giant maiden who dared to march into their hall and demand justice. Odin asked of her “What good do you think it will do, Skadi, if you too die in Asgard as your father died?”

“My father must be avenged,” she snarled, “Or are all the gods too afraid to fight against one woman?”

“Thiazi was our enemy,” replied Odin, “But there is not one of us here who would shed your blood. Go in peace Skadi.”

“I will avenge my father’s death,” she repeated “and there is no-one to avenge him but I. Since I have heard of his death I have not smiled, my heart is cold and dulled with grief, and I think that I shall never laugh again.”

“We would call you our friend Skadi”, said Odin, “We would see you living and happy, not dead at the gates of Asgard. Come, accept atonement for your father’s death, and be reconciled with us. Let us offer you recompense the best we have to offer. Chose for yourself, Skadi, a husband from among the gods, and live in peace with him, no longer the daughter of the storm-giant, but one among the goddesses.”

no viking smiley, you'll have to have instead.

Amazing, isn't it, morrie? Skadi storms in looking for revenge, and just like that they buy her off.

Or they try – what happens next? Does she run amok like Venus Williams and take their heads off? Or does she accept their blandishments and baubles and settle down to become a good svenska flicka?

And if they killed Thiazi – a god, for god's sake – who's responsible for all the storms we've been having lately?

I don't wear glasses, except sometimes for reading. Strangely, my eyesight seems to have improved as I've got older. I bought some years ago, to wear for watching TV, but I sat on them the first day and never used them again, and my vision got better almost immediately. I was in a fight my first day at big school, and broke Pentney's glasses and got into deep sh*t, but I wasn't speccy myself in those days.

Did you encounter any happy memories when you regressed? Rolf Harris doesn't count.

I used to live near Hemel Hempstead, and worked there on a local paper for a while. You're right, it wasn't worth it. Peterborough is nice by the riverside, but Luton sucks even so.

Fred Scuttle and Frank Spencer wore berets – need I say more?

fergus makimoto

(another Japanese admirer)

Ah, but you have yet to be at the end of the story, Skadi is no milky maiden, and after all, she has just been offered a god. I would probably choose Thor myself, I have a thing for beards.

Skadi never settles down, but you have to plough through the mythological to get to the point. I love this story because it's so liberating!

I don't 'believe' in these things of gods, no, actually, that's not true, but I think with this sort of stuff it either resonates or it doesn't. I think the weather is responsible for the storms.

You sat on them the first day, I expect the air was blue . I wore glasses myself from about 18 to 21, just for writing, cos I used to be at it for hours. I lost them hanging out of a truck window when leaving Glastonbury (yeah yeah, but everyone should do G with a nine bar and three crates of beer at some point, not anymore though, urgh, a tent might have come in useful though). I never replaced them. I don't tend to watch TV, I prefer reading, currently Dick's Dr Bloodmoney, tis disturbing, I must google phocomelus ... I digress.

Pentney, you're so grammar school, I went to school with people called Tina and Majinder.

The only thing I know about Peterborough is the passport office, I've got through a lot of passports in my life - no I don't lose them.

Fred Scuttle??? Yes, as I said, a certain type of man, Serge Gainsbourg, Satre, Goddard, all wore berets.

Makimoto?

http://www.brl.ntt.co.jp/people/makimoto/

http://webpages.csus.edu/~sac15179/

oh, and something very graphic, how can anyone think that's sexy?

Part 2

Yet all Skadi would say was “My father must be avenged”. The gods sought to persuade her by offering ripesome compliments. Odin himself declared that he would take Thiazi’s eyes and cast them up into the sky to create two new stars. A little appeased by the gods’ kind words, Skadi looked around her at all the gods assembled in the great hall; wise and kindly Odin, the great tawny bearded Thor, smiling gentle Niord, handsome red haired Loki (who had been the cause of her father’s death), Balder, the young god of sunlight, the most beautiful of them all. She looked at them closely, thinking upon Odin’s words, his offer of a husband, and her eyes kept returning to Balder. “If I can have Balder for my husband, then I will forgive the wrong you did to my father and live in peace with you.”

“You may choose you husband for your self Skadi,” said Odin, “but choose him by his feet alone and abide by your choice.”

‘There is not doubt that Balder being the most beautiful will have the loveliest feet,’ thought Skadi, ‘and thus I shall know him instantly.’ With her eyes covered, Skadi was lead down the length of the hall by Frigg. The gods sat on a bench against the wall, and Skadi carefully looked at the feet of each as she passed.

Some feet she found it easy to guess the owner; Odin’s were hardened by the countless journeyings among men; Thor’s were huge and muscular, Loki’s tapped rhythmically against the flags on the hall floor, but she passed by all of them until she came to a pair of feet so white that the veins showed blue through skin, ‘the delicately arched insteps and shapely ankles could belong to none other than Balder’, she thought. Aloud she said “Surely you must be Balder, the god of sunlight, and I will have you for my husband.” And she took away the cloth that covered her eyes and found herself standing before Niord, the King of the Vanir. Niord who was lord of the winds and waves that broke upon the shore, whose feet had never been hardened by walking rocky mountain paths, he walked only across sandy beaches among the tide pools, and his feet were fairer and whiter than even Balder.

Skadi was disappointed at her choice, that she had been mistaken, but Niord was handsome and kindly, a husband such as would please any maiden, and she resolved to be content, and smiled when he took her hand and pledged himself to her before all Asgard.

You still a journalist. I write two columns a month for a trade mag, this month it was about rss newsfeeds (hello, how exciting is that) and the bombing of dresden (how depressing was that).

Anyway.

No, I guess you're not still a journo, the Slug & Lettuce eh.

Did I mention the Slug & Lettuce at some time, morrie? They've just done it up as it happens, and it's much more cosy.

The name Niord has been corrupted over countless generations: now it's spelt 'nerd'. I don't know if you find any significance in that, but from your description he has a touch of the milksop about him. I'll come back to all this tomorrow, so it's goodbye from me.

fergus makimoto

No, you didn't mention the slug and lettuce, but it wasn't hard, just ran a search you mac head.

No milksop about Niord, you haven't heard the end of the story! Tooooooo tired, lost and lacking, like a pair of knickers left in the changing rooms of a swimming pool.