Neil Gaiman

David Tennant does not need to be invited to a party. When four or more are gathered together in his name, David is magically and invisibly present.

If angels don’t have free will, how did Lucifer and the rest of them rebel and Fall? Were they assigned parts which they dutifully followed and then were punished for doing what God had wanted?

(Teasing. I know that Lucifer as an angel and the Fall are bible fanfic and meta, not actually from the original text. But by the same token, there’s nothing in the Bible, Old Testament or New, to suggest that angels don’t have free will.)

Somewhere between kind of weird and just weird.

Big happy grin.

The plume de ma tante is a common teaching phrase – or was when I was a boy.

As for the gardener… well, I remember reading Carry On Jeeves, which contained the following in the introduction:

We do you these two books at the laughable price of half-a-crown apiece, and the method of acquiring them is simplicity itself. All you have to do is to go to the nearest bookseller, when the following dialogue will take place:

Yourself: Good morning, Mr. Bookseller.

Bookseller: Good morning, Mr. Everyman.

Yourself: I want The Inimitable Jeeves and Carry On, Jeeves

Bookseller: Certainly, Mr. Everyman.

You make the easy payment of five shillings, and they will be delivered at your door in a plain van.

Yourself: Good morning, Mr. Bookseller.

Bookseller: Good morning, Mr. Everyman.

Or take the case of a French visitor to London, whom, for want of a better name, we will call Jules St. Xavier Popinot. In this instance the little scene will run on these lines:

AU COIN DE LIVRES

Popinot: Bon jour, Monsieur le marchand de livres.

Marchand: Bon jour, Monsieur. Quel beau temps aujourdhui, n'est-ce-pas?

Popinot: Absolument. Eskervous avez le Jeeves Inimitable et le Continuez, Jeeves! du maitre Vodeouse?

Marchand: Mais certainement, Monsieur.

Popinot: Donnez-moi les deux, s'il vous plait.

Marchand: Oui, par exemple, morbleu. Et aussi la plume, encre, et la tante du jardiniere?

Popinot: Je m'en fiche de cela. Je desire seulement le Vodeouse.

Marchand : Pas de chemises, de cravats, ou le tonic pour les cheveux?

Popinot: Seulement le Vodeouse, je vous assure.

Marchand: Parfaitement, Monsieur. Deux-et-six pour chaque bibelot — exactement cinq roberts.

Popinot: Bon jour, Monsieur. Marchand: Bon jour, Monsieur.

As simple as that. See that the name “Wodehouse” is on every label.

(Cinq roberts probably needs explanation: slang for a shilling (12 old pence) was a “bob”. Five bob is thus Cinq roberts.)

And from E. Nesbit’s book The Phoenix and the Carpet:

‘He thinks,’ whispered the Phoenix, ‘that her troubles have turned her brain. What a pity you know no French!’

‘I do know a lot of French,’ whispered Robert, indignantly; ‘but it’s all about the pencil of the gardener’s son and the penknife of the baker’s niece—nothing that anyone ever wants to say.’

So it’s me returning to the same well, the idea of schoolboy French from long ago, and not really a Stardust reference.

Because it wasn’t a comedy of hidden identities with a moment of revelation at the end of the ball. It was quiet and romantic.

Tumblr and Bluesky are my fun writing.

I think it may be Butter Pecan. I tend to order Butter Pecan when faced with many many flavours of ice-cream, and sometimes I am made incredibly happy, and often as not I taste something that tastes vaguely chemical and disappointing. So it’s the platonic ideal of Butter Pecan, and rarely the reality.

Job’s burnt-out barn is very well-ventilated because most of the walls and roof have gone, and it still smells like burning building, masking any residual smells of ox-rib or demonic shoemaker-cum-obstetrician.