Yes, it's my 2000th entry, cause enough for (an extremely minor)
celebration, as you'll agree. Since living smack bang in the Wilderness,
without a Wilderness Map, tee hee! these past fifteen years, my diary
has been uppermost on my todo list each day. I've had to face facts and
realise that 'Life on the Outside, Looking In' wasn't all it was cracked
up to be after all. Still, the diary has kept me sane in between those
boring but essential moments of emptying my chamberpot into certain
polluted rivers a fair distance away, near-ish to certain large Cities,
and hunting for wild tengu or the odd dryad for me tea, near my own
river, which is emphatically *not* polluted, tee hee. (But see below).

Witness, then, dear Aetolians, my latest entry penned by my hand this
blah-de-blah. I hope you enjoy it.

-----

Day 2000

Happy Anniversary, dear Diary!

7:50 a.m.

Got up early. Face looks a mess, after a night of hearty song and
banquetry with the Order of Valor's Male Voice Choir (incorporating
what's left of Lord Lanos' contralto section). Bless them! Last night we
were thrilled by their 'special' drunken version of 'Nearer, my God, to
Thee', 'There'll be a welcome in the Vashnars' and 'There ain't half
been some clever bastards'. Some of these crooners are still here,
soundly asleep, in my shack, as it goes -all thin purple legs and golden
greaves -which is appropriate. Must turf them out after a spot of cold
breakfast -a quick swim over to the temple will wake 'em up a bit. Can't
imagine what Yilien will have to say when he finds out he *wasn't*
invited. He'll probably never know, the absent-minded old gimmer.


10.30 a.m.

Caught *three* trout for me lunch, using my unique fishing pole and
tackle. Unique, as I've had cause to mention in these pages before,
because the line is actually a fifty-five foot strand of the Goddess of
Mystery's hair (She didn't miss it after all. Never trust a shadowsnake,
m'Lady!). Anyway, I catch loads of fish with this pole, and I'm stuffing
myself like a piggy these days, after all those years of being
fashionably thin and pale and interesting too. But let's face it, I look
great for a woman of 60, and the mudpacks help, don't they. But I sure
smell funny...

Saw Zahmekoses on a trireme, rowed by his sallow galley-cattle, early
this morning as I popped out for me ablutions -he was cruising down my
bit o' river, without so much as a by-your-leave. He looked a bit
off-colour, I thought (tee hee!) -a case of the old sea-sickness,
unfortunately. Hey, Your Royal Highness -please, next time, don't leave
bits of tapeworm and stuff floating on the water. Think of the locals!
'Tis unsightly and lowers the land value of this very fine stretch o'
riverbank which we the proletariat call home.

12.00 p.m.

The Order of Valor's Male Voice Choir, senior members thereof, are still
asleep on my floor! Exasperated, I tried a bit of trickery. It was
really funny. Improvisational humour was always my strong-point (never
really worked in the shadowsnakes -they're not allowed to smile, you
see) -anyway, I picked up a funnel that someone had brought with them
(curiously) and in a deep basso amplification thingy, I shouted these
words down it.

"Arise, thee SCURVY DOGS (I've picked up a nautical tone in my time
here) -- I AM THE GODDESS OF CORRUPTION. PREPARE TO MEET THY MORTAL
DEATH!" For good measure I trickled my mod con water-spout over the base
of my tin bathtub, which was brilliant, as it sounded *exactly* like
50,000 enemy cavalry arriving on the scene! (Now, I know it's an offence
to impersonate a Goddess and Her Minions, and carries stiff penalties
most usually, but these hairy devils weren't going to budge.)

Hrrm! The snoring saps utterly ignored my superb mimickry, although one
of them did turn over in his sleep.

This is just brilliant.

Can you imagine? The armies of Her Dreadfulness invade Mostyn AGAIN with
a big ballyhoo and at least 50,000 cavalry, and these poor sods, after a
single night on the bottle, can't wake up.

Poor Arion *sigh*

4.30 p.m.

Started a philosophy course at a nearby shack. Adult education beckons.
We started off with an easy subject, to get us comfortable with the
whole group dynamic thingy -Light and Dark, and the eternal struggle
between same. Now. Don't get me wrong, I know that this subject is a
contentious one -people of all walks of life have, regularly and without
mercy, have bombarded the newsrooms with this, since the year dot. 'May
you walk in the Light!', 'May Darkness be Particularly Black Tonight!'
and similar expressions of whatnot are all very well, but what these odd
folk don't realise is that not everyone gives a damn.

None of us *could* give a damn, so the debate was ajourned for lack of
interest and we pottered off for some sandwiches and a cup of something
warm.

Mustard 'n' Cress sandwiches 1, Light 'n' Dark 0. Tee hee!


6 p.m.

Stumbled over a dead druid. A moment to forget, frankly. I heard this
scream, and there he was. He had fallen literally from the blue sky
above (or perhaps he was spying from the tree-tops!), and now lying dead
before me, a book by his side, a sparkly sword and three scrolls of
something scattered beside him, his yellow pointy hat askew. Hmm. I'm
sure I've seen this before somewhere. Perhaps it was a case of deja vu.
I'm sure I'll recall it on the Morrow, come Wind, Rain or Snow. Anyway,
lots of people motionless on cold floors today. I gave him a hefty kick
of my hobnailed boot (to check for life) and moved on, un-moved by his
histrionics, tee hee.


9 p.m.

My shack is, thankfully, deserted. They (the OoVMVC) (AKA 'The Zero zero
Five Thousand Five Hundreds' in the music industry -a snazzy name)
cleaned up before they left, which was nice. If there ever was a fifth
Pillar of Valor, it'd be the Pillar of Tidiness! These chaps are
immaculate -perhaps it's the influence of Arinwen, the Matron of Valor,
spick and span and sergeant-majorly in a loveable matriarchal kinda way,
and quite adorable if you don't know her. I don't know her, actually,
although I once copied a key to the Order of Valor's sauna and
shower-room for her.


1.04 a.m.

For goodness sake!

Can't sleep because The God of Artifice is shouting. He never used to be
like this, he was the very essence of a well-spoken, mannerly and QUIET
God, and we loved Him for it (from a distance). Don't know where He's
been these past few years, but perhaps the noise levels were higher than
He was used to, and now He feels the need to shout all bloody night
long, just to be heard, above the raucous din we scabby mortals make.
Now then, now then, m'Lord! Just because you gave me a tailoring licence
once, it doesn't mean it gives You a licence to keep me from my
much-needed beauty sleep.(Tee hee!)

Ah well, now I'm up, I really *must* empty my chamber-pot into the river
Shallam, or whatever they call it nowadays, before I get a
lightning-bolt from the blue. Or black -it's night-time, you silly
thing.

Goodnight!

---------












Penned by my hand on the 11th of Chakros, in the year 142 MA.