Tag Archives: fecking freezing

Inachronistic Danger, the Innocent Wheat and the Magic Sock Appeal

Yes, I survived yesterday (mostly)!  And now, continuing onto the Adventurous Time Adventures!


‘What was that, Wilburforce?’ Doctor When turned to ask, just in time to see the Dwarf lay a solid punch onto his reptilian enemy, helped by his spiked leaden knuckles. With the hiss of metal she drew her rapier from its sheath, and the Spaghetti Sisters behind her conjured daggers in each hand. Before them, a horde of anachronistic predators gained ground.

‘I take it this is your anomaly?’ Vermacelli shouted over the sound of a dozen sharp claws tearing soil.

‘Ingeborg’s anomaly,’ the Chrononaut corrected the Sister. ‘But yes, this is surely it.’

Then the time for conversation was past and they were concerned with other matters, such as razor-sharp teeth and not dying upon them.

‘On your left, Doctor!’ Rigatoni warned from behind, and in due course the air beside Doctor When’s left cheek whizzed with the passage of a dagger. It hit a crouching dinosaur where it had sneaked towards them, unseen until that moment. Doctor When grinned at the girl’s reflexes, but was then swinging her rapier towards another foe. The air was full of daggers, reptilian blood and stalks of wheat that were the innocent bystanders in this battle.

When the last dinosaur fell beside its slain kin, the foursome had only a moment to catch their before they were aware of a new danger. A sturdy French farmer was making a beeline for their position, waving his arms and shouting.

‘Ah, I see we’ve gained the attention of the owner of this field,’ Doctor When remarked, crouching down to clean her rapier with a handful of strewn wheat refuse. The Sisters were busy gathering their daggers from their resting places in the thick skin of the defeated creatures, and Wilburforce picked bits of dinosaur meat from his spiked knuckle-dusters.

‘Bonjour, Monsieur,’ the Doctor smiled charmingly at the irate farmer as he drew close. He replied in frantic French, accompanied by sharp arm movements to punctuate his words and aghast expressions at the carnage around them in the very centre of his wheat crop.

‘What’s he saying?’ Vermacelli asked, bemused.

‘Mostly unkind speculation about the professions of our respective mothers.’ Doctor When replied to the man in French with the ease of fluency as she began to retreat, gesturing for the others to follow. She and the farmer continued their exchange, growing louder and more expletive on the part of the latter, until they were back at the site of the Time Machine. Doctor When opened the door and motioned the others to enter first before following through the doorway.

‘Je suis désolé, Monsieur,’ she apologised, closing the door on his reddened face. Inside the Time Machine, all was silent. The others looked at her, disheveled from the fight, somewhat glassy-eyed and confused.

‘We’re leaving?’ Rigatoni asked.

‘Yes, Ingeborg isn’t here.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘The farmer told me.’

‘He said that?’ Vermacelli looked at the Doctor incredulously. ‘From what I gathered he was mainly swearing and talking about his wheat.’

‘Indeed. If Ingeborg was still here he would have had a lot more to say. Something along the lines of, “Oh God, help me now!”’ She turned her attention to the dials, levers and buttons. ‘And so we’re on to the next anomaly! We might even get to see something interesting this time.’

The Spaghetti Sisters exchanged glances, and Wilburforce might have looked equally skeptical if he wasn’t currently being pressed between two sets of shapely legs that were distracting his attention. At least the pay upon completion of this Mission would be excellent, providing they all survived.


So yes, my fingers and their typing ability survived the cold and predatory avian beasts of yesterday!  Aren’t you glad??

In other news, I’m not so sure my feet survived entirely.  They felt (or rather, didn’t feel as they were numb thoroughly) like solid blocks of foot-shaped ice for about 7 hours, and this morning I still have some tingling in my toes.  Ah well.  What’s a bit of nerve damage between friends (or rather, between a girl and her desire to fly gorgeous birds of prey at the cost of her extremities, squeamishness and exhaustion)?

You wouldn’t believe how cold I was, even in my bazillion layers.  Unless you live somewhere properly Arctic, and you’re just laughing at my crapness.  You heartless bastard.

So there’s this phenomenon in Scotland called “freezing fog”.  It’s fog, but frozen.  How does that work?! Regardless, it happened yesterday.  A misty aura of deathly cold vapour sat over the ground all around us, growing ever-thicker once the sun disappeared at around 3ish.  It was the shortest day of the year, and I can honestly say it seemed like the sun was only shining for a mere hour of blessed light and warmth.  Although it rose at 9ish and set at 3-ish, there was only this one hour just after noon where it seemed to do anything useful.

It’ll only get better from here on – longer days and maybe even some above-freezing temperatures!  Yay!  In the meantime, I’m accepting any and all donations of magic foot-heating socks with which to save my poor froze-y toesies.


It’s a good thing I don’t type with my feet.

Next Thursday Morning, ‘Where’ as well as ‘When’, and The Anomaly.

Again, clicking on the tag entitled ‘The Adventurous Time Adventures of Doctor When‘ will take you to a page with all the excerpts, of which today’s is:


The Time Machine was a box, roughly the size of a large wardrobe, made of metal, wires and strangeness. Or at least that’s how it looked to the three toughs, goggle-eyed at the complex systems of knobs, dials, levers and clock faces within. It was a tight fit once they were inside and Doctor When shut the doors behind them, shooing them into a corner where a stray elbow wouldn’t knock their trajectory off course.

‘This may be disorientating,’ the Doctor informed them, pressing, pulling, turning and winding various contraptions with no apparent hesitation. In the next moment they felt very much like that last bit of water in a bathtub, swirling violently through the drain. It seemed to go on forever; it seemed to last a mere eye-blink. Then they were still. ‘We’re here,’ the nonplussed Chrononaut needlessly pointed out.

‘Where, er, I mean when is here?’ Wilburforce asked, uncomfortably squashed behind the legs of a Spaghetti Sister.

‘We’re at precisely 11.03 Thursday morning,’ the Doctor replied.

‘Last Thursday?’ asked the Spaghetti Sister known today as Vermicelli.

‘I’m afraid not,’ corrected Doctor When, leaning over a dial. ‘Which is a shame, because last Thursday was particularly delightful. I would’ve liked to visit it again. But alas! It’s this Thursday coming.’

‘We’ve only travelled forward two days?’ the other sister, Rigatoni, exclaimed bemusedly.

‘Two days, one hour and eighteen minutes, to be precise. Shall we?’ With that, the Chrononaut reached around the others to open the door, and they tumbled out haphazardly.

To find themselves plonked in the middle of a wide, empty field up to their thighs (or Wilburforce’s neck) in wheat. The sun bore down upon them from a painfully blue sky, and in the distance conical green trees bordered the field geometrically.

‘Huh,’ Wilburforce said, wittily. ‘I thought time travel kept you stationary in place, and only time changed.’

‘A common misconception. We travel across time-space, which means that we move freely along all of the four dimensions. Time is only one of them.’

‘So where are we, then?’

‘Somewhere on the Continent, it seems,’ Doctor When looked around them. ‘I’d guess at Southern France.’

‘Don’t you know more specifically than that?’ Vermicelli turned to her employer with a frown. ‘Doesn’t the Time Machine tell you?’

‘I’m afraid the Time Machine only tells time, my dear. If it were a Location Machine, then maybe we’d be in luck. Or a Map Machine, instantly capable of drafting ones position upon arrival,’ the Doctor seemed to lose herself in the thought, dreamily continuing, ‘I’d call it the Cartographoid Spectrometer.’

‘Doctor?’ Wilburforce interrupted her reverie. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Ah, yes!’ Doctor When returned to the Machine, drawing a notepad from a coat pocket. After some furious scribbles, she returned it to her pocket and joined the others once again. ‘The anomaly we’re looking for isn’t far.’

There was a sudden rustling sound coming from the wheat, but Wilburforce ignored it as mere wind. But then he watched the still, distant tree-tops, incongruous with the rustling that surrounded them.

‘Um, I think we might have a probl-‘ but he never finished his sentence. The small man was too busy fending off the small dinosaur that was currently trying to eat his face.


DINOSAURS!  Did you see that coming?  HA!

Anyway.  It’s freakishly cold here, and will likely be -12 C (about 10 F) tomorrow morning when I have to go be outside all day.  Joy!  I may not be capable of posting afterward, dependent upon whether or not my fingers are still attached to me, either frozen off or eaten by a hungry raptor.  Either way, it sort of spells disaster for typing.

Pray for my fingers.