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caddymanI hope you take delight as my only reader, that I am interrupting my busy daily work schedule to provide this update for my journal. It is a little service that I like to provide.
The occasion for this update is the observation that the dimensional portal that exists in Barnet is active again. It is only an intermittently active phenomenon, but it livens up my day.
This morning I was first alerted to the possibilities by the fact that the Morden train seemed to be going backwards – that is to say that it started off at one minute away before moving up sequentially to four minutes and back down to one, where it stayed for two before arriving. That is primary evidence that the Barnet dimensional portal is active. The fact that during all this it didn’t convert into an East Finchley or a Kennington train is rather more of a miracle.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the portal had been unusually creative. In front of me on the other side of the carriage, from right to left, there was a Britpop band member from about 1994, a Blur, Oasis or Pulp wannabe miraculously frozen in time and ready to step out onto Top of the Pops in his quest for fame. Next along was a chap with close-cropped fluorescent orange hair, a middle-aged punk with mod aspirations. He had his arm around a woman that looked to have been dressed and coiffed by a Japanese doll factory, who could only find an elderly candidate from a Dickensian workhouse to work on.
Next along, and providing evidence that somewhere it is still 1942 was a young woman clearly going to work in a munitions factory somewhere. Had it been somewhere other than north London, I might have thought she was a Land Girl lost in time, but a munitions worker seems more likely in context.
The origin point of this dimensional flux is clearly, as I have noted, Barnet, but the terminus is Camden. This marvellous selection of temporal refugees decamped en masse at Camden Town, which is where the prevalence of Reality Weavers, with their trolley bags begins to increase. As usual, by the time we reached Euston and down the track to Victoria, these had reached the local critical level and the incidence of alternative humanity was consequently suppressed to be replaced by slow moving but reality-saving trip hazards1.
I love London.
1Tripp Hazzard is himself a character of renown in intelligence circles.
The occasion for this update is the observation that the dimensional portal that exists in Barnet is active again. It is only an intermittently active phenomenon, but it livens up my day.
This morning I was first alerted to the possibilities by the fact that the Morden train seemed to be going backwards – that is to say that it started off at one minute away before moving up sequentially to four minutes and back down to one, where it stayed for two before arriving. That is primary evidence that the Barnet dimensional portal is active. The fact that during all this it didn’t convert into an East Finchley or a Kennington train is rather more of a miracle.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the portal had been unusually creative. In front of me on the other side of the carriage, from right to left, there was a Britpop band member from about 1994, a Blur, Oasis or Pulp wannabe miraculously frozen in time and ready to step out onto Top of the Pops in his quest for fame. Next along was a chap with close-cropped fluorescent orange hair, a middle-aged punk with mod aspirations. He had his arm around a woman that looked to have been dressed and coiffed by a Japanese doll factory, who could only find an elderly candidate from a Dickensian workhouse to work on.
Next along, and providing evidence that somewhere it is still 1942 was a young woman clearly going to work in a munitions factory somewhere. Had it been somewhere other than north London, I might have thought she was a Land Girl lost in time, but a munitions worker seems more likely in context.
The origin point of this dimensional flux is clearly, as I have noted, Barnet, but the terminus is Camden. This marvellous selection of temporal refugees decamped en masse at Camden Town, which is where the prevalence of Reality Weavers, with their trolley bags begins to increase. As usual, by the time we reached Euston and down the track to Victoria, these had reached the local critical level and the incidence of alternative humanity was consequently suppressed to be replaced by slow moving but reality-saving trip hazards1.
I love London.
1Tripp Hazzard is himself a character of renown in intelligence circles.