Manx Rover's Ramblings

Magnus’s nascent pneuma is captivated and charmed, yet senses utter isolation at his first encounter with ‘Liminal Time’. His habitation of the ‘Present Tense’ is somewhat akin to reading the final page of a ‘Who-Done-It’. He knows whose throat was slit and by whom, but remains clueless of the Who, What, Where, When, How and Why of all else! He’s in a dark place, and very much alone.

A single chime from a tubular glass bell trembles the void, shattering the blackness, reviving and engaging Magnus’s bewildered psyche for the next chapter of his erratic existence.

Magnus drifted through life with no defined purpose nor focused ambition. He enjoyed his own company and was perfectly content pursuing his current interests. One troublesome issue which dogged him throughout his life however, was the unwanted attention of others. These intrusions were generally sidestepped, but on occasion became difficult. Magnus never looked for trouble; it seemed to seek him out. On this occasion, supermarket checkout provocation proved impossible to avoid and ended in madness and broken bones.

Magnus’s nascent pneuma is captivated and charmed, yet senses utter isolation at his first encounter with ‘Liminal Time’. His habitation of the ‘Present Tense’ is somewhat akin to reading the final page of a ‘Who-Done-It’. He knows whose throat was slit and by whom, but remains clueless of the Who, What, Where, When, How and Why of all else! He’s in a dark place, and very much alone.

A single chime from a tubular glass bell trembles the void, shattering the blackness, reviving and engaging Magnus’s bewildered psyche for the next chapter of his erratic existence.

Congested tension generates checkout mayhem and worse.

He lay still, as though resting, as his father had done on Little Mill Road, Kerrowdhoo, on that chilly Saturday morning 1948.

Soothing noises were emanating from Paris concerning the authentication of Magnus’s Picasso plate.

The French Canals looked promising as a lifestyle alternative to suburbia.

Magnus never looked for trouble; it seemed to seek him out. Even the Saturday madhouse of a local supermarket provided its challenges. Checkout provocation usually ended in tears.

“Whilst perusing the Willie Leece photographs online(http://willieleece.blogspot.com), I noticed your other blog: Is this a Picasso?. (http://picassoceramic.blogspot.com) What the story?”

“It’s a magnificent piece,” Dorothea enthused. “It’s even more wonderful than I imagined.”

“It reads like a Picasso. It’s right in its vocabulary; more painting than ceramic,” the Sotheby’s connoisseur affirmed enthusiastically, holding the plate securely in the crook of his arm. “It’s alive with his wit and playfulness. Where did you get it?”

The Paris based Picasso Administration’s swift reply stated, ‘From the information provided, and only that, we do not think your plate is from the hands of Pablo Picasso’. Magnus’s cause of action was clear. He’d take the plate to Paris so they could see for themselves that they’d made a mistake!-( Chech it out yourself: - http://picassoceramic.blogspot.com)

Meet our vibratingly sexy Sybil Fawlty lookalike landlady who instigated the ‘dookling foot’ episode.

And: -

At the back of the shop, on a chair seat, alongside a red rusty, two-metre-tall, cast iron Jesus sat a grubby heavily glazed ceramic plate which catapulted Magnus deeper into the secretive, murky and unregulated world of fine arts.

Robin’s Croft was a dilapidated seventeenth century stone cottage with the luxury of a cold water tap, but having no kitchen, gas, electricity nor sanitation. However, they’d survived the war and had a roof over their heads.

For the first time four-year-old Magnus had a friend his own age. Andrew lived nearby beneath the trees of Fairy Glen and was the only son of a Polish taxidermist who dealt in rabbit skins and feathers.

A catastrophic death in the family may, or may not have resulted from the maniacal ambitions of the now also dead, Adolf Hitler. 

Extra Sensory Perception (ESP) may activate Arterial Fibrillation amongst susceptible pilgrims.

A cubist inspired shrine in which 80year old Yoko Ono’s power of imagination shine.

Magnus is one of millions who remain impacted by Hitler’s ambitions.