the temple

wrong path






Trips on a horse (fairly unique), Charles, the king, scribes 'wher? out of the edge of our maps. The map makers were church. The knights, lower, the opposers of high, Big Cathedrals, and Big Monasties, Thomas Moore didn't contol them, in away those who rode the streets of Cambridge, a sovereign for a info on Zanzibu, and unkingly thoughts, and the who that side of the church, part of the church, of course the low who made the holyland maps, which the high clerked them all away. So evidence from the burgening trough of Holy war maps is a bit small, as thier held if we're led to believe by Yeomen (the low secret service), and not by Knight commanders, the intelligence service.
As would not surprize. I'm a bit of a church, knight, intelligence, who has commanded humps, I usually pick up flags, and spend time aqcuiring things, and then follow where they've been commanded, and wait at endless locked doors. As a mark of unusual world, the Germans do seem to get our old maps, anyway. wonder why we haven't.

One of the knights, who guards the lawn of Charles, one trys to find.

Imagine if you can, I am the younger, half brother of 'Hattie Hayridge', imagine she lives nears hastings, feeds big horses, and has long flowing white hair to fit the M.O.
Well she looks a bit like Charles, and Nicky Henson looks like Charles, see him walking accross a darkened room, followed by knight Gryff Rhys Jones., Outside let us say Stephen Fry incharge ge of block chucking, war-machines, the Welsh and I 'don't like them', because they disappear fastly of our old maps. I am in charge of an army not perhaps of nice fine men, which I would be. I might like throwing the occasional woodenn arrow over the ranks of the nearby French, I could grow up on the coast near Hastings.

Well, I'll paint the brighter picture instead, of an old yellow stone building, in the North of England, just down the Hill from a hospitaller, church. I'd be picking the old hairy wattle out of the wall straps thinking these aren't going to last us to the floor.
In leathen hooded coat, looking out of a sunny window, when I have a cloudy revalation, Tony Slattery walks through the window.

Suppose, titchy castle, walls that haven't seen anybody tortured in them for a long while, a plague sight, flying cows, and huge black rats who appear scuttling along my roof, eating holes in my outer coat pockets, reading a book.

Its unsurprising cause it might be happening just outside my window, if I'm looking at Stephen Fry just accross thier, and Tonys, and old friend. Rats carrying battle of into cracks in cliffs, miles away from us. A battle for many centuries won not by a wall of armed soldier, riding into flights of saracen arrows, engines, emerging cavalry, but often by quick slow moving columns trailing up the hill, as we know on very small, hoofed paths.
My giant fingers, or my black gloved fingers, on giant maps, of the terrain.

The ancient rickety walls of a plague castle, Gryff and Nicky stuck looking out of the small window, for a summer season, in the village Mel Smith arrives, smells, a rat, and under the intense bright light peers in.

I'm in intelligence, I'd like to attract Alan Davies.

Where is Mrs Hayridge today. Knight commander. Carrole BAILIT IS THE returned french expression. We carry on looking out of the same window, and Tony slattery, who is really turning round in the capatious car park of the Red lion. Points vaguley east.

Accross the plane, we the Welsh 'Llewlyns' have all the Hay. The English you need people who have charisma amongst the French I, Nicky and Hattie (CHarlamagne) its perfect.

'Now the light flickers, I carried my army from the docks, and looking along the harbour who has that nice Arse (for pulling soldiers) , Mrs Hattie Hayridge, Nicky looks on, you could lead an army with that, that white mane on a horse, as seh watch she plucks, uoffle puffs from the street, one of the few people I know who can do that, I can, but she just clicks, her horse travels, at a Princely Charles pace, ours clop, me, nickys and our bullit scout Annabel croft, 'I all join er antrage, and snorts, Schama',

Well Stephen Fry its not a bit high for the church, pointing at my office above the door. I tended to have it on a pole outside, it lends itself to mischief.

Well we could all be Italians they bought back, Nicky. or in the Italian court, but not the Welsh to far, of the beaten column. whose at its head. apart from afore mentioned qualities, who carries a sword, god that pulls, who rallies like a dynamite, but she does give of ......etc, 'aun air that she contrrols the intlligence. Mrs Hattie Hayridge. Maybe the French, THe nose St Joan, 'her goofy looks'
up the holy land path today, pulling men into boats where are you going with Mrs Hayridge. Do they return yes, do mine they have a tendency to leave. Fight wars charging and, we gallop, maybe someday, the uffle puffs will carry 'the cannon', but they'll burst onto the field, und we can't stop em, big horsey hoov Hattie Hayridge behind the lead. Even though, I employ, uffle puffs, und have vast intelligence, and we just want to pin the saracens up the valley, just before we move on, so like a bunch of mohecans they swarms over the war machines, on the hills, in the valleys, saracens....
Uffle puffs, English, retires to a country house.


...On the wall, I look up Robbie Robson, Hatties old employer..as I caught him face in the water on the field.....whose this?.....',Gary Linekar with wings (white),and underneath a black coat?, I remember his last words to me,'' 'oh your good....'...briskly swing the wall, round, and on the other side David Gower....step,..step.., .., step,. Garfield Sobers..tink,tinktink, down a step ,down a step Trevor Mc DonALd,,,.. Davinia.. and out onto the terrace..,,My intelligence quarter, white lines running down the hill,,...Campus smoothies.,,.. Street...trend setters..,,... .,. ...,,,..... 'Hotsputs',,, Mrs Hayridge?,,,...

Blog 10th of September..He will be reborn again, as we may of been... and Hattie Carol captures her exactly,close relatives, Steven Fry, Rob Llewelyn people who were our friends and pesumabli on the field...a lkely romatic field,...becomes as one a legal voice..unless descendats?!!!!..who may be found, swinging from windmills, playing table tennis with two bats,.to help society!!!???,,.??!!,,?!?..,,