Hurricane in Britain Inspires Spitfire Dogfight

There’s a horrendous hurricane sweeping across Britain at this very moment, doing lots of damage to the greenygrey countryside, as well as threatening life, so we’ve delved into the vaults, and decided to post the first episode of the week of your favourite werewolf travels Australia to a Wizard of Oz theme travel quest epic satirical comedy classic virtual travel excellent expeditionary exercise in literary nonsense… but with a story and end.

Spit the Dog Story in Sydney

This episode continues the questing quartet’s travels through Sydney, with the Spit Reserve inspiring a whole lotta Spit the Dog tomfoolery.

There’s also more alliteration, which is described on About.com as:

‘The repetition of an initial consonant sound, as in “a peck of pickled peppers.” As J.R.R. Tolkien observed, alliteration “depends not on letters but on sounds.” Thus the phrase know-nothing is alliterative, but climate change is not.’ 

The alliteration is inspired by a star name and mythical mothman; met on our first epic ramble across North America.

Chapter 118.  Spit the Dog Reserved in Sydney

We continued north to the Opera House, where I felt like a proper tourist, and not a bedraggled traveller from another dimension. We looked at a Sydney map there, and one place stood out straight away: the Spit Reserve. I was a big fan of Spit the Dog when it starred on Tiswas, and thought the reserve must be where it now resided.

Crossing the Harbour Bridge to the Spit Reserve 

The Mothman Prophecies (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The others agreed to go there, so we made our way across Harbour Bridge to the north, with great views of Little Sirius Cove below. Pebbles glinted in the sunshine like stars on a clear night. Mosman reminded me of that Mothman creature I met while one half of the Greenygrey on our epic ramble across North America. Magical memories momentarily materialised once more.

There was a Spit Road leading to the Spit Reserve. I was impressed with the amount of respect they had bestowed upon my favourite puppet dog.

Spit The Dog (Photo credit: tim ellis)

Entering the Spit Reserve was like every Spit the Dog fan’s dream, as there were dozens of the dogs all enjoying life in safety; although I couldn’t be sure if I saw the original Spit amongst them.

They seemed reserved compared to the original Spit, with not much wild spitting going on at all; I guess the passing of time in such a comfortable reserve had mellowed the spitline out.

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Notes

Spit the Dog was a puppet worked by Bob Carolgees on Tiswas (1970s/1980s fun variety show).

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Link for Amazon book and kindle.

Link for multiple Ereaders at Smashwords.

Sydney, Australia Adventures in the Werewolf of Oz

Hi, it’s Green. Grey’s been blogging a lot lately, so just got the latest three Werewolf of Oz blogs into the Greenygrey world, and need a rest now. It’s greyt to see Grey enjoying itself in Sydney, meeting Paddington Bear and Spit the Dog’s descendents. Cheers.

Arriving in Sydney, Booked by Bronte

Moon moves milky
waves washing whales
rising rolling roaming
entrancing ethereal eternal.

Sighting Sydney is a Sight for Sore Eyes 

Sea and shore had been serenely silent for seventeen hours, with only the appearance of moon wave whales worthy of recording here.

Then we saw Sydney on the horizon, and it looked open and peaceful, so we looked forward to landing and recovering after so many days at sea.

Just before reaching land I thought I saw a commotion out at sea, but the next moment it was gone.  None of the others seemed to have seen it, so I didn’t say anything.

There wasn’t time anyway, as we had to decide where to dock.

Docking at Sydney

Cronulla looked made of vanilla
Coogee appeared too easy
so we landed at Bronte
as it seemed to have something to say.

There was no time for wuthering
as the winds reached record heights.
We saw a woman by the name of Jane Eyre
fly head over heels all up in the air
dropping a book our way
by the name of Agnes Grey.

The book looked promising, and not at all  literary nonsense.

Into the Lair of the Paddington Bear

I wondered if a book of grey was a sign, and quickly flicked through it.  Although it was not literary nonsense, there did not seem much relevance to my life or predicament, so I did not investigate further, and donated it to the Bronte library Bronte section.

Whatever will be, will be,
and if Agnes Grey re-enters my story,
I will return to the Bronte area library,
and look it up under section Bronte.

Paddington Bear Gives us a Scare

Image via Wikipedia

We walked up through Bondi at quite a pace, and were just having five minutes in Paddington sitting against a wall, when a bear entered the street and headed straight towards us.

He looked quite harmless dressed in an old hat and coat; and carrying a suitcase, but you never know!

He came right up to us and asked us if he was heading in the right direction for Peru.  I’d seen a boat heading to Peru from Bondi Beach, so I informed the Paddington Bear.

He thanked me, and before leaving gave us a marmalade sandwich each.

Spit the Dog Retired and Reserved in Sydney

 

We continued north to the Opera House, where we felt like proper tourists, and not bedraggled travellers from another dimension.  We found a Sydney map there, and one place stood out straight away: the Spit Reserve.  I was a big fan of Spit the Dog in Tiswas, and thought that must be where it now resided.

Crossing the Harbour Bridge to the Spit Reserve

So we made our way across Harbour Bridge to the north, with great views of starry Little Sirius Cove below. Pebbles glinted in the sunshine like stars on a clear night.

Mosman reminded me of that Mothman creature I met while one half of the Greenygrey on our epic ramble across North America.

Spit the Dog in the Spit Reserve

Spit Road led to the Spit Reserve, and I was very impressed with how respected Spit the Dog was here.

Entering the Spit Reserve was like every Spit the Dog fan’s dream, as there were dozens of its offspring all enjoying a lazy life.

They seemed very laid back compared to the original Spit the Dog, with not much spitting going on at all; I guess the passing of time in such comfortable surroundings had mellowed the spitline out.