Space And Time.

"My life is an endless journey across the bounds of space and time..." so says The Doctor and who can say he is wrong? This has some period gems on it. A vinyl version of Genesis Of The Daleks. A straight for vinyl story; The Pescatons and a narrated novel State Of Decay. A Baker's Box of joy.And just look at that cover.

And thats a wrap.

Now that is the very definition of exciting. Russel T Davis and the current production team shared this pic announcing filming having finished on Ncutti Gatwa's first season of Doctor Who. When something that is old becomes new once more.

alien; The Enemy Of My Enemy.

What a thing of beauty the original alien design is. Even after all these years the sheer horror and brutality the creature projects. Just look at this head shot of the creature on the cover of The Enemy Of My Enemy, doing just taht;projecting a nature that goes beyond...,well, nature. And the brutality just keeps on coming with the xenomorph attacks in this book. Like any Lovecraftian entity, once you meet them, its already too late. One of the lingering horrors of the Alien universe was the impression of the vastness of space. The remoteness of anything even resembling a sphere where life might exist. the Lovecraftian fear of empty space, of the sheer amount of it. A nothingness filled with nothing.The chance of finding a world where a lifeform even resembling ours might have grown are so astronomical as to stagger the imagination. Yet on this one remote ball in the middle of noplace comes a signal. A call that would be best ignored but instead resembles the sticky sweet smell of a trap that is impossible to ignore. LV426 will not even have a name at first, just this designation. The seed bed for horrors. Perhaps a benign creator deliberately set these vast distances between his creations to very much forestall the terrors to come.Yet as always, mankind pushes the envelope, crossing the merciless plain. Meeting that which we were never intended to meet. The alien universe is definately not the optimistc future for the human race that someone like Gene Roddenberry envisaged. We take the worst of ourselves to the stars, only to encounter a lifeform that is infinitely more harrowing than even whatwe are capabble of being. One that exists only to reproduce. No descrimination, no arbitary bargaining with the universe. This is perhaps why this book feels like an extended chase sequence, with the xenomorphs snapping at the heels of the feeing humans. When they are encountered its the only effective defense; Flee. In their wrath no one is spared, no man, no woman, no child. If a host cannot be found for repreoductive purposes then savagery is the only other way. If they are not hell bent on multiplying they are hell bent on killing. So it proves once again and although this might seem like a narrative cul-de-sac it does what it says on the tin, so to speak. When all the choices are bad always settle for the least worse. Which is almost impossible to determine given this lifeform. Ridley Scott, Dan O Bannon and HR Giger created a monster for the ages. One that will cause mankind to run and run and run......

The Winter List.

The hunt is on for the killers of a King.Or those who might have contributed to the trial and execution of Charles The First. With his son now upon the throne, and a pretty wide spread and generous, by this eras standard, amnesty for those who were not directly involved. those who seek to curry favour find increasingly tenous links to destroy others to enhance themselves. The story begins at the height of summer 1660, moving forward into the longer colder season which mirrors the darkening political situation in the England of Charles the Second.Oliver Cromwell and his New Model Army had changed the course of their homelands history when they demonstrated to the world that even God's own annointed was but a man, when they chopped off his head.Showing the world what may occur when our leaders disapoint the people and I use the word "disapoint" in the broadest sense of the word. You really have to be very disapointed to seperate ones head from ones body, pauper or ruler.Charles never doubted for a second, not even during his most perilous moments during the last hours of his life, in the divine right of kings, that he had been born to rule,despite the mordern minds inability to empathise with such thinking or grandiose self-consideration.In the modern conceit it is not that God is dead, to the fragmented progressive mind he never existed. And in that God shaped hole in our lives why not worship the self? Trying to decide the right or wrong of that is like wondering why water feels wet. Er, meanwhile, back in The Winter List; there is a concerted effort to track down and punish anyone connected with the execution of The King, no matter how tenous that link might be.It is a desire for revenge that stretches across the world and many, many rocks are overturned in the search for those suspected guilty of contributing to the killing of a king. Even death will not prevent revenge as Cromwell was himself dug up and his cadaver punished for that which he sinned against in life. Many others had been arrested, tried and butchered for their percieved guilt.And what a bloody state of butchery it was. Cromwell had described Charles The First as "that man of blood"citing his entitled, literally, indifference to his people's suffering during the Civil War as one of the Kings main crimes. Now a second Charles sat upon the throne of England and surrounded himself with those who jostled for favour, who furiously virtue signalled by overtly condemning anyone suitable foe blame, sociably profiting by pointing fingers. The killing of the king had the most prfound affect on English history and permeated out into the wider world and iys history. Following the bloodiest civil war in tyhat same history is it any wonder it had such a seismic impact on those who had to live through such troubled time. The Middle Eaqrth of English history was changed forever, birthed in blood, sweat and tears. Such a birthing had the most violent and life changing contractions. Such a birthing should never be forgot.

The Whispering Swarm.

I thought I might revisit The Sanctuary Of The White Friars as we are on the cusp of the release of the second book in the series. Not that it takes much effort to reread a book that has such strong associations with myself. Something resonated powerfully with me as the time between reading it and remembering it grew and grew. Part memoir, part exciting historical adventure yarn.A detailed account of the early years of Moorcock's publishing career and an equally detailed reimagining of Middle english history. Exciting, engaging and even romantically rewarding. If love of history and heroic fellowship is your thing. (And it is everones thing on some level.) then this is a great gateway book for you to join in the good works of this remarkable writer. you will be in good company; Claude Duvall the handsome, brave and witty highwayman and the four Musketeers for starters. When the author crosses the threshold of imagination he enters a merry old England that will exist forever on the pages of so many beloved adventure books. I was reminded of some of the sentiment and insights proposed by Iain Sinclair in his book The Last London. As he was referring to a London which existed before and not a final itteration of that city. We are in a liminal phase of a new evolving history with many of its inhabitants and participants already scrambling up the barricades of social media. Standards are raised, flags ripple and crack in the wind of history, blowing one way then the other. The flags have become crazy quilts and their meaning changes with every swish of the raiseed poles. The new Arcadia is coming into being but its final form is obscured drenched in the fog of events that multiply , crash and collide, giving birth to such startling new directions the lexicon cannot keep up. michael Moorcock has attempted to do as much with his vision of a world within worlds, the cultural kalidescope of The Sanctuary Of The White Friars.Its been an enjoyable voyage thus far. I look forward very much to continue this journey.Traveling in style in the company of a writer whos star never dims.

What we Do In The Shadows.

You know the drill by now; What We Do In The Shadows Stays In The Shadows. Ahem.

Mona Lisa Smile.

I do not believe my Mona Lisa to be the real thing. I looked at it while wearing X-Ray specs and saw the words "This Is A Fake" scribbled in marker on the canvas, beneath the paint. Last time I buy anything from that Count Scarlioni. He is a bit of a smooth operator but I suspect he is a bit like an iceberg, the bits you cannot see dwarf the bits you can.