Blob Thing And Winefride Nearly Get Arrested On Wrecsam Station

Blob Thing says:

You know what?  I'm a bit cross with my person right now.  I've calmed down a bit from earlier but I'm still a bit cross.  She's trying to make up for things by letting me write a blog post but she made a big mistake today.  Do you know what she did?  Do you?  No, you probably don't.  She went out today and photographed lots of Snowdogs.  She did.  And she forgot to take me and Winefride with her.  There we were, deserted at home in the warm.  And there she was, walking from dog to dog in the pouring rain without us.  She's a bit crazy is our person.  She walked for miles today.  In the rain.  At least she wore her adventure coat.  She says that she realised her mistake when she found her first Snowdog - a really posh one in a suit, suitable perhaps for somewhere like Gosforth.  She found seven Snowdogs today and lots of little dogs too.  And Winefride didn't see any of them.  Neither did I.  And that's not really fair is it?  And some of them were in Jesmond Dene and she's been promising to take us there for ages.  She's saying now that she'll take us on a sunny day and we can go and look at all the other animals there because though the dogs might have gone the birds and the goats will still be there.

So yes.  I'm a bit cross with her tonight.  Next time she goes out she's got to take us with her and she's promised to take us Snowdog hunting this week.  We might even go twice for two long days of hunting.  We're going to shoot them all.  Shoot, shoot, shoot.  Not with a gun.  We haven't got a gun to shoot with.  Partly that's because we don't want a gun.  Partly it's because we don't need a gun.  My person says she used to know a minister who would carry a big gun with him as he travelled between his churches.  He didn't have a car so had to walk, sometimes for more than a day.  And sometimes he would have to use his gun to scare off lions and tigers.  I don't think we will have to scare many lions in Newcastle.  And partly we don't have a gun because of laws.  Some countries have very strange laws and lots of people have guns because ... well, I don't know quite why.  But in some countries there are shootings all the time and I know there aren't many here.  I think it's because somebody once wrote some words on a piece of paper and those words fit a situation in another bit of history.  And then people think those words should be taken to mean only one thing for all time and everyone should be able to have guns even if they haven't got lions to scare.  I think that's why.

My person is telling me to hurry up and get on with my blog and stop talking about guns.  I saw some men who looked a bit like the ones at the bottom of this post.  They were at Newcastle station when Winefride and I were meeting Snowdogs there the other day.  Except these men were carrying big and scary looking guns and the men in the picture later didn't have guns.  I don't like seeing guns.  It scares me.  I have read it's because there might be scary people around.  But the guns scare me and every time I see them I want to cry and hide.  I know guns have good uses, like starting running races, but I don't like them.  Why do people want to shoot and hurt and kill other people?  They are stupid.

My blog.  I want to tell you about Winefride.  I want to tell you about something that happened when she was only one day old.  I'd sat and watched as my person and my creator acted together and created my sister.  They did a very good job.  She's severely autistic and she's wonderful.  She's also got a tumour but it's benign so that's okay.  I think.  I don't really know what a tumour is.  The very next day after Winefride was made we all took her out on an adventure.  We went all the way to another country.  It's the only time I've ever been to another country.  My person says that she used to live there.  The country was called Wales and there were lots of signs in another language.  While we were in Wales we took Winefride to her very first play area.  She enjoyed it so much and squealed and made all kinds of happy noises.  We enjoyed rocking together on this toy.

My creator and my person both had a ride on this toy and it was very funny watching them.  There is a video of my person using it and she rocked back so far that her head nearly collided with the ground!  It was so funny and I laughed until my sides hurt.  I'm glad my sides didn't split.  They're only held together with stitches and I wouldn't want my insides to fall out.

Later Winefride and I met some sheep.  I've already told you about the Welsh sheep.  I think I've even mentioned Uncle Adrian's emergency Welsh sheepdogs who are going to come and herd some as yet non-existent sheep into the sensory room.  I wanted to show you this picture again because I think it shows just how much I love my sister and how much my sister loves me.  I was so happy to have a sister.  And I still am.  My person needs to give my fur a clean sometime.  I can tell that when I look at old photos.

And then it was time to go back to the railway station.  It was called Wrecsam Cyffredinol.  I know that because it says so on the sign.  I posed in front of it and then Winefride came and joined me.  She couldn't read the words but she wanted to be in the picture too and was obviously getting upset that she wasn't in it.  So here we are together.  I am managing to look at the camera - which I don't always manage.  Winefride is looking in completely the wrong direction.  You can see that she didn't have reins then.  If she had then what followed might have been very different.

You see, Winefride was tired.  She was less than a whole day old so that's not surprising.  And she was a bit anxious because there had been so many new things.  And it was quite boring having to wait for yet another train.  This was the fourth one we had waited for that day.

Winefride started to misbehave.  She didn't know better and she was just being her wonderful self but most people would have thought her behaviour inappropriate.  She ran off.  She did.  It was actually quite worrying a couple of times because it took us ages to catch her and she had run too close to the platform edge.  She might have fallen and been run over by a train and that would have been the saddest thing possible for me.

Between the three of us we managed to get Winefride to calm down.  I was good at it because she's my sister.  My creator was very good at it because she knows a lot about autistic children and how to look after them.  She's gifted and skilled.  My person got a bit flustered by the whole thing and a bit worried in case she couldn't look after Winefride properly when we got back to Newcastle.  As it turns out she's done a very good job.  Except today when she forgot to take us out with her.

Winefride had her picture taken by this sign.  I wanted the picture to be taken.  I haven't got a clue what any of it says because it doesn't say anything in a language I speak.  Winefride didn't have a clue either but I think she liked the picture at the bottom and I think she might also have liked the shade of blue.  My person says that she used to pass through a place called Amwythig a lot.

And then.  We only took our eyes of her for a moment.  To look at a bird.  And then Winefride was off again.  Running up and down the platforms and I was chasing after her.  And she was making a lot of noise.  Lots of excited squeals and somehow or other she was flapping too even though she doesn't have anything to flap with.  She was obviously having a very good time.  But the people on the station platform weren't.  She was being very loud.  People were looking at us.  And then they were looking at my person and my creator with very disapproving faces.  I could tell.  Because they were tutting and shaking their heads like it was the end of the world.  And my person and my creator were trying to catch up with Winefride too.  I knew she was having fun but I was worried about her because she obviously didn't have any sense of danger.  How could she when she was a one day old severely autistic soft toy?

And then someone must have called the police because I heard a whistle behind me and I looked and there were two policemen there chasing after us too.  And that was scary.  I called to Winefride and she happened to look back.  And she stopped running.  I don't think it's because she thought she was doing anything wrong.  I think it was just the bright colours of the policemen's jackets that had caught her eye.

The policemen told us to stop moving.  One of them picked me up.  And the other picked up Winefride.

Winefride started to laugh but I was worried because these were policemen.  Actual policemen.  And I thought we were going to be arrested and thrown in a prison and I am scared of prisons.  It doesn't matter whether it's the prison at Hexagon where I was put in the stocks, or the prison I saw near Durham or any other prison.  I don't want to have to go and live in one.

My person and my creator finally caught up with us.  They were out of breath.  I am so thankful.  Especially to my creator.  She explained the situation carefully to the policemen and explained all about autism and about the difficulties it presents.  And she apologised for Winefride's behaviour.  I apologised too.  But Winefride didn't because she can't talk - or doesn't talk - and because she didn't know that she had been behaving in any way out of the ordinary.

The policemen relaxed and then they smiled.  And we were told that we shouldn't behave in such a way again and just this time we wouldn't be arrested.  The policemen were very nice about the whole thing and even let us have our picture taken with them.  Thank you policemen.

I love my sister.  But sometimes living with her can be challenging.  That's okay.  She's more than wonderful anyway.  Even on days when my person forgets to take us out.



[1888 words]

Blob Thing Reconciles Himself To A Life In Fleetwood

Blob had arrived back in Fleetwood.  His escape attempt had failed.

He looked back at the ship that had been his hope of freedom and which had ultimately brought him back.  He sniffed one tear and then turned and smiled.  The attempt had failed.  But he was still alive.  And where there is life there is hope and beauty and freedom.  Very often, Blob says, we can created prisons for ourselves that don't really exist.  We trap ourselves in situtations.  We bury our dreams in thought processes that speak of hopelessness and self criticism and lots of other things that aren't the truth.  Some prisons are real.  Blob had seen them.  He had imagined what it would be like to be on the other side of the wall, to be in a real physical prison.  Some prisons are not.

Maybe, just maybe, Fleetwood itself would turn out not to be a prison at all.  Maybe Blob could find freedom here.  Inner freedom and the deepest of joy that can only come from contentment of mind and heart.  Life might be in Fleetwood for the foreseeable future.  But that didn't mean it had to be terrible.  Here there would be sunsets, and eccles cakes, and cafes.  There would be market days and climbs up The Mount.  There would be friendships to forge and even Fleetwood could have an almost infinite scope for new adventures.  Blob was determined.  Life would be happiness.  Whatever place he ended up in.   Even Fleetwood.

And so he stood up proudly by the ferry and smiled his biggest smile and sighed in expectation of the future.  Or rather he was held up by his creator because it was very windy and he didn't want to risk falling into the water.

Blob told his person and his creator that things would work out.  He said that they shouldn't look so sad about being back in Fleetwood.  At least this was a place where hungry dogs aren't turned into statues for stealing a biscuit.  Blob's smile and his enthusiasm were infectious and pretty soon his person and creator were smiling too.  Fleetwood wasn't so bad.

Together they stood by the dock and watched the ship workers prepare their ship for departure.  And then it left.  Blob knew that he might never see that ship again and he waved his best wave.  It wasn't a particularly good wave because he hasn't got a hand to wave with.  Blob's person waved a much better wave because Blob told her to.  The ship got smaller and smaller.  At least that's how it appears and right now Blob wants to go into an extended monologue about how perspective makes things in the distance look smaller but Blob's person isn't going to let him because anyone reading this probably knows about such things already.

And then the ship was gone.

Gone.  And just for a moment a great darkness seemed to fall across the face of Blob.  Just for a moment.  Then life was bright again.  The sun shone and the birds still sang.

The three friends stood for a while longer by the dock considering their lives.  How was it that everything had led up to this moment?  And what would a future in this land hold for them?  They stood and watched the water and believed they would stand and watch nearby waters many times again.

Then they turned with their heads held high and walked back into the town.

It didn't look bad.  It was true that all the cafes were shut and they desperately needed a drink.  Just when it looked as though thirst would defeat them they saw a big sign up ahead.  "North Euston Hotel."  They were saved.  Surely they could get a drink in here.  It did look like an interesting building.

The three walked in and were greeted by an old man who said some very strange things.  Blob decided that this man must be the person employed as the town fool.  He was very friendly.  He beckoned them into an area with lots of chairs and there was a man there behind a counter selling drinks.  Fortunately Blob's creator still had enough cash to acquire a drink.  The next day they would all have to look for gainful employment.  Maybe they would all get jobs as swan feeders on the local lake.  That would be good.  They sat and drank and started to make plans for the future.  If they were truly stuck in this town for the rest of their lives then some pretty solid plans were needed.  Blob was quite impressed at the results of the planning meeting.  He hasn't got time to tell you about it but promises you that it was a good meeting with a lot of actionable outcomes as business people put it.  Blob doesn't like the word actionable.

Feeling a lot better and wonderfully refreshed by the local tea, the friends got up to leave the North Euston Hotel because they didn't have the spare cash to rent a room.  The town fool was still there and greeted them again on the way out.  He spoke some more strange words.  Then he said the most profound thing anyone had heard that day.

He said, "The Fleetwood Ferry tram and bus stop is where they come.  The Fleetwood Ferry tram and bus stop is where they go.  In and out.  In and out.  They get off the tram, get off the bus.  And they get on the tram or the bus again.  From elsewhere they arrive.  To elsewhere they leave."

Could it really be true?  Was it really that easy?  Was it possible that Fleetwood wasn't a prison at all and that all one needed to do was get on a bus at a specific place and time and escape would be secured?  Really?

Blob Thing said that they had to try it.  What did they have to lose?  He would be able to forge a new life in Fleetwood but he didn't really want to.  He wanted to be able to go home to where his soft toy friends lived.  Blob's person said, "No, it can't be true.  Not after all we've gone through."  But Blob was adamant.  And when Blob is adamant there's no point saying no.

So Blob Thing, his person, and his creator left the North Euston and walked back to Fleetwood Ferry, to the place they had spotted a tram stop earlier.  And they waited.  Hardly daring to hope that the old fool had spoken a truth in his crazy ramblings.

But he had.

A bus arrived.  A bus.  The companions boarded the bus.  Their passes still worked.  They could leave Fleetwood.  The bus driver didn't even know it was a prison of any kind because she had been bringing people to Fleetwood and taking them away again for years.

Blob Thing had escaped.  It only remained for him to return to Blackpool and from there he would be able to return to his creator's house and rest from his adventures.


Note:  Blob will be taking a little break from his Blog for a few days because he's currently on holiday having more adventures and doesn't have the time to write anything even if he had the opportunity.  He's just got one more adventure to tell you about from his day on the Fylde coast.  It's one that he found very exciting.  His person found it quite exciting too.



[1245 words.]

Blob Thing Relaxes Enough to Enjoy Lunch With A View

Blob Thing needed a rest.

He realised as he walked away from Hexagon Prison that the experience had worried him more than he had thought.  He had smiled so much when he pretended to be punished in the pillory and it's true that he had enjoyed himself.  He noticed however that the thoughts about being locked away had upset him.  He noticed that even the act of pretending hadn't been one of pure joy.  His smile wasn't just a smile but contained many of the elements of a brave face.

If he was completely honest with himself he was a bit sad and his little heart kept pounding in his chest and he couldn't get the thoughts out of his head that he was in trouble and would be thrown into the darkest cell in the building.  He wouldn't like that.

Blob asked his person if they could move away from the prison.

As quickly as possible.

Away from the place of suffering that, in Blob's appreciation, still had it's history of sorrow oozing from the walls, pervading the air with a darkness punctuated by tears, by loneliness and by a thousand men struggling each day not to be broken on an ancient and harsh wheel of justice.

Blob wanted to leave.  Fast.  And not look back upon that place.

Fortunately, Blob's person agreed.  She promised him that they would walk on, find themselves some lunch and then find, if possible, a quiet place to eat.  She didn't know if it could happen.  The streets of Hexagon seemed noisy and crowded and she knew that Blob needed some time away from them.  Where could they go?  She had an idea.  It would be a longer walk than the streets but she had spotted on her previous Hexagon visit, years before, that there was a park.  Maybe there would be some peace in there for Blob Thing to regain his mental composure and for everything jumping wildly in the anxiety of his overwhelmed mind could settle.

Blob said that he would probably be able to cope with that and as they walked away from the high walls of the prison - with some great speed and urgency - he already felt a little better about things.

With a cheap lunch bought the pair walked on to the park.  It was much greener than the streets, which was great.  But there was a problem.  For Blob, a big problem.

He was in need of quiet, of a time in something as close to silence as he could find.

And they were mowing the grass in the park.

Several large ride on mowers.

They were noisy and noisy and noisy all of them.  Blob wanted to cry.  He felt that he would weep and weep until all his insides had fallen out of his eyes and that in this world the peace he didn't just want but desperately need could never happen.

Blob Thing began to panic.  It was horrible for his person to watch and she wished she could do more for him.  She held him tightly for a while and placed her hands over his ears.  They sat on a bench and, for a while, rocked together.

Then Blob's person had another idea.

She said to Blob, "Let's walk further with our lunch.  Let's leave the lawnmowers behind to do their work and let's see what lies beyond the walls of this park.  Maybe we will receive a wonderful surprise.  And at the very least we won't be able to hear the mowers."

Blob looked up at his person.  There were tears in his eyes and he wouldn't have been able to smile at all at that moment if his smile wasn't sewn in place.  Slowly, he nodded his head and whole body and said it might be okay.  As long as Blob's person would carry him.  He nestled himself tightly against her for safety.

Blob was carried through the far wall of the park.  He hid his face, pressed against his person's chest.  He couldn't help thinking that things could get worse.  Sometimes being Blob Thing is very difficult.  It's a stunning example that he smiles so much and is usually joyful and full of encouraging words even though it can be so difficult for him.  It's a stunning example too that he is prepared to publicly say, without shame or guilt, that it is hard. Hard. HARD!

On leaving the park there was a wonderful surprise.  Blob's person was surprised by the wonderful surprise even though it had been her who suggested it might happen.

The path from the park led out into a big field and the grass in that field led to the top of a hill.

There was nobody there.

There were no lawnmowers either.

There was just grass and a few flowers.

And a view.  A lovely view.

Blob's person sat down and unpacked the lunch they had bought.  She told Blob that things were better now and that he had a quiet place in which to recover from both the prison and the noisy mowers.

Slowly, slowly, he moved his head from his person's chest.

He could hardly dare to believe that she was right, that there would be relief for him.

He turned himself round to look outwards and opened his eyes.

And then he started to cry.  Tears of relief.  Tears of knowing that it would all be okay.

He sat.  He breathed many deep breaths, inhaling life from the air of the hill.  He felt the grass and the earth under his body and it was as if strength and peace rose up from the wisdom of the ground and filled him.

In those moments, life became joy again.

There.  Joy displayed.  Isn't that a picture of a pefect moment?

Blob and his person sat and rested and smiled at each other.  They ate their lunch - which tasted okay but had, by this time, gone cold.  That was okay.  And then it was time to move on.  Blob decided that they should explore and adventure in a different direction and not go back through the park on their way back into Hexagon.  If they walked another route down the hill they might find some more surprises.

That's what they did.  Anything to avoid the lawnmowers that had caused so many problems for an already anxious person.

Blob's person walked down the hill.  Blob walked too.  Except Blob rolled some of the way which was very enjoyable indeed.  His person decided that she wouldn't roll down.  It wouldn't have been comfortable at all and with a rucksack it would have probably hurt a lot.

Near the bottom of the hill they crossed a bridge over some water.  It was wonderful to see.

They were even happier to discover a path leading down by the water.  Blob's person took a lot of photos and she wants to blog about them too if she can ever get her hands back on her computer at a time when she's not typing the things Blob tells her to say.  Blob wants you to know at this point that he didn't write the previous sentence.  That was just his person having a little moan.  Blob's person wants you to know that Blob uses her computer at times when his blog isn't being typed and that she doesn't get to use it for herself nearly as much as she wants and that there are a lot of pieces of writing she would want to get on with if Blob let her.  Blob Thing wants you to know that he's finding all of this very funny.

From the path by the water Blob and his person walked up another little hill.  There they found Hexagon House.  From the grounds of Hexagon House they could see Hexagon Abbey - which Blob wants to tell you about on another day.  And in the grounds they found something Blob Thing enjoyed immensely.  He wants to tell you about that tomorrow.

[1339 words]

Blob Thing Goes To Prison And Is Thrown In The Stocks

Blob Thing is going to do it today.

He is.  He's determined.

Nothing will stand in his way.  No distractions.  No thinking about important issues such as Trident submarines, whether the people of Gibraltar have to worry about Brexit, or what his friend The Slow Loris might have been getting up to in the last few weeks.

Today he will do it.

Blob will talk about Hexagon.

He was on another day out with his person.  It was a big adventure because neither of them knew where they were going.  On the journey to the nearby bus stops they had decided to head into Newcastle instead, go to a bus station and get on a bus.  They still didn't know where they were going when they got there and looked at the buses that would be leaving very soon.  For a while they considered going to Middlesbrough, a place that they had travelled through before on a coach but never actually visited.  Almost and very nearly they got on a very comfortable looking Middlesbrough bus.  They had passed through the doors of the bus station and were just about to pass through the door of the bus.

But then the two adventurers saw a bus that went to Hexagon. And the decision was made.  They would go to Hexagon.  What adventures would they find?  Would there be any battles to fight?  Would they befriend any hobbitses or be capture by any nasty orcses?  Probably not - although Blob is pointing out at this point that in the last week he has seen two hobbit places and has even knocked on the door of someone called B. Baggins.  That someone wasn't in but the thought of meeting someone with such a name had been quite exciting.

The journey to Hexagon was enjoyable.  After leaving the city the view got a lot better and Blob asks whether he can, one day, get off the bus half way there and have a walk.  The point at which the bus went over the river was beautiful and he could see footpaths leading off from the road in all kinds of directions.  Blob wants to explore and he wants to do it soon.  He wants to explore a lot of places.  He has many plans.  Oh, the places he'll go!  [Blob's person put in that sentence.  She spent too much time reading Dr. Seuss.]

Walking round the ancient town of Hexagon was enjoyable too.  They visited the charity shops and Blob's person was really pleased with the things she found there.  They walked and walked and eventually approached a large stone building.  The most foreboding and sinister looking building in the whole of Hexagon.

This was Hexagon prison.  Blob was a bit anxious.  He doesn't want to go to prison.  He talked about that in a previous post as part of his Cuddy's Corse experiences.  After enjoying the ruined walls of Finchale so much he had stumbled upon the walls of a large prison.  He thought about it all quite a lot and would much prefer to remain outside of prison if he can possibly manage that.

But here he was at another prison.  The walls of the prison of Hexagon.  What criminals and creatures were inside?  Were there any wrongly imprisoned people?  And would Blob Thing become one of them?  Would the prison guards come rushing out and seize Blob by the arms and legs and drag him into a cell and torture him for a confession before locking the door and leaving him inside for the rest of his life?  Of course, that wasn't likely at all because Blob hasn't got arms and legs to be seized by.  But he was still worried that the guards would appear.

Blob's person came to the rescue.  She told him that Hexagon prison wasn't used as a prison any more.  It is now a museum that showed how the prison was many years ago.  Nobody is imprisoned there today.  She also said that in this country prison guards don't rush out and seize random people and that torture isn't a legal way of getting a confession.  Blob was somewhat reassured and agreed that if his person held onto him tightly he would approach the prison and even touch the walls.

As he sat outside the prison, Blob relaxed.  He realised that he was safe and that nobody was going to lock him up.  The museum signs and the admission charges gave him confidence.  Blob decided that on this occasion they wouldn't go into the prison.  He wasn't comfortable with the idea yet and he guessed that there would be lots more adventures in Hexagon.  They might be well hidden but he was going to find them and wouldn't leave a stone or a leaf unturned in his search.  And then on another day he would return and find some more adventures.  Blob's person was quite surprised at how confident Blob seemed that there would be many Hexagon adventures.  She could muster up some hope that there might be something good but she wasn't confident.

And then, outside the prison doors, Blob spotted something.  A form of punishment.  It wasn't being used to punish anyone and Blob doubted that people had been punished in it for quite a while.  He saw some stocks.  At least that's what he thought they were.  He understands now that what he experienced that day was a pillory.  He didn't know that word before and is absolutely astounded by it.  How can a word so similar to pillows be a punishment word?  How can a comfortable place for a human head - or for an entire Blob Thing - be almost exactly the same as such an uncomfortable place?  Blob finds this almost unbelievable.

Blob Thing was feeling a lot more confident now.  He wasn't going to be locked up or hurt.  So he asked his person if he could have a go, if he could pretend to be being punished in the pillory of Hexagon.  She agreed and said they might be able to get some photos of Blob enjoying himself.

It was ever such a lot of fun.  Blob decided that it would be a rubbish form of punishment for him.  The restraints wouldn't restrain him for long and he would be able to summon his escapology skills and free himself, steal a horse and ride out of the town, ford the river and somehow escape capture from the King's army.  Then he would lead a rebellion, overthrow the wicked Lord of Hexagon and establish a rule based on freedom and bubble blowing.

After all of his initial worries about the prison Blob enjoyed himself immensely.  It had been a wonderful little adventure and he knew that it was just the start of the day.  He could hardly imagine the adventures that would follow.

He wants to write more about it now but he has a busy day ahead of him.  He's off to a workshop about writing and the breath and dragons and maybe he'll want to talk about the creative Spirit of God in the Bible and how all life came in the story there after that creative spirit, the breath, the ruach, hovered over the waters.  Blob likes that imagery.  He wants that wind of the creative spirit to blow wildly, that creative breath to be breathed across the whole of his life, his person's life, his creator's life and across the lives of anyone else who dares to seek the risk taking and freedom and surprises that that ruach creative breath inevitably brings to all who receive and to all who learn that it was there inside them to begin with.  For we are all of us breath.  We have just been taught that we are lifeless.

Awww.  Isn't Blob just the happiest person who has ever lived?

[1312 words. Blob apologises that the title says stocks rather than pillory.  He knows!]