Back Up and at 'Em...

Drowned Man here,

...back among the semi-living.. and as chipper as can be expected. Took a slightly more generous chug on the  - ahem - cough syrup -than perhaps was warranted.. and it knocked me for Six. Anyway, back again and Johnnie MacPartout decently whipped up some Ice cream and a cold compress ... so I'm feeling a tad more myself...whaterver myself is nowadays!!!

Anyway.. where the blazes was I?.. Oh yes the loneliness.. and the Portal.. Thank Mary Mother of God for the char-hag Portal.

You see, the thing about loneliness.. its not just the yearning emptiness of absolute solitude that bothers you.. its the of lack home comforts.

A well upholstered chair by a roaring fire, a fine English pipe with fine Imperial tobacco... Wisden's Cricketing Almanac, a hunting horn... and English Mustard hot enough to circumcise a Semite.

Thus gives the true English knight his Armour and Keep...

So.. with a small amount of assistance from  the Piccadilly Portal ....my entourage of 25-30 coolies and my old Kandahar batman Johnnie MacPartout...

Walrus lipped MacPartout.

I managed .. here in the dread 5th dimensional Abstraction of Yahar'Gul (The Unseeen Village)...to stave off the insanity of solitude by creating my own  slice of Merry England

I had to use every ounce of ingenuity though. A sequence of psychic shocks in London were needed to expand the portal to a size suitable for transmitting a large desk and the building materials necessary to create a Hunters Lodge here beyond the Abysmal void.

First off... Lady Somerset was encouraged to expose an ankle while riding through Hyde Park... that opened the Portal to a yards length. Then a Blackamoor entered the Royal Box at Covent Garden.. that gave us an extra foot...

Finally my sainted publishers, swallowed their moral doubts, and published a full page advert for the Drowning Man showing a fair maids shapely leg... the psychic uproar in London Town enabled them to toss a full size Royal Mail Kitbag full of "cough medicine" onto the Persian rug in my Servitor Prison Cell...

So, yes I am afflicted, betwixt non-existence and alien incorporation, and yet through my own single-handed valour, I have kept a stiff upper lip and created an oasis fit for a gentlemen.. in an alien hell of unimaginable psychic torment....

Pip Pip, Stumps up till the next innings etc.!!!