For azzadazza

In another place, at another time I thought that I'd found someone who knew someone who'd seen someone who had a cousin who'd been to this house in Victoria. Sadly, that was not the case.

On the other hand it leaves me free to use terms like "selfish pompous monstrosity designed without regard for the planet on which it lives", without offending anyone except the owner, whom I have never met but who thoroughly deserves it.

As usual, my digression started about two paragraphs ago. One of the benefits of sketching notes rather than not taking zillions of photographs of things is that one's memories can be whatever one wishes. I dug out the book so that it would be ready for Aaron to sign, and was surprised at how close to the real thing it was, considering the drawing was done that night after whizzing past at speeds which were probably imprudent.

Only the height remains a mystery, I suspect that ten floors is a little higher than the reality.... or is it?

File under G for Gecko

There must be nicer ways to die than being squished between the pages of a sketchbook. I guess it was warm and dark at the time, but I have no idea how Mr Gecko actually managed to climb between the pages in the first place, nor how the little bits of gecko found themselves around him like a bunch of blowies round a bit of road kill.

What they are exactly, and how they dispersed themselves remains a rather spooky mystery!