Stephen Fry sat with his feet on the sideboard, straw in a bottle of coca-cola, books piled heavily, and ‘bergamot’ the faun porcelain cow sitting at the edge of Mrs Hayridges’ ‘Gainsborough’. Hatties painting had disappeared of to London. My painting of Mrs Hayridge ‘sitting with a cat and doing a big jigsaw, was being admired by Mr Stephen (Fry) and Tony ‘in one of his casual, purple velvet jackets. Who asked me 'have you seen anything of Mrs Nanar just lately'. Mrs Hayridges progressive books, Mr Fry’s mutterings of 'this definitely can’t go on'. The sci-fans, we’d occasionally meet, when, we went down the pub, with Mrs Hayridge (Dreambird), the workshop, being full of flasks, and blackboards, and the cook being a west indian witch, lead to my interest in techno-shamanry.
The devils fire
Twice as many long or thin pipes exact target, thick or short pipes, bring in charge, put a dreary reflector, so it unpleasant and point it at your enemy.
No comments:
Post a Comment