Hello And Cheerio

No Sooner Has Conrad Arrived -
     Than he has to take his leave.  Only temporary, I've got to go check on the Banana Bread Muffins - 
     - good thing I did, too.  The recipe is actually for a cake done in a tin, not for muffins, and it said "bake for an hour".  Had I done so, instead of this

Banana Bread Brandy  Maple  muffins

     you would be looking at twelve little lumps of coal.  Canny Conrad, knowing a thing or two about baking muffins, decided 20 minutes would be enough.

Why You Must Absolutely Hoard Everything, All The Time
     Did I bore you last week with needing to buy earphones?  The reason was that my previous ones came apart in my rucksack, probably because they were buried under five or six pounds of hardback books*.
     Well, it is not beyond Conrad to glue small objects together, he has after all constructed 1/300 scale Minenwerfer from paper and pencil leads.  But!  A vital piece went missing, so I admitted defeat and bought a couple of earphone sets.
     What do I espy last night?

Slightly left of centre

     It's that self-same missing bit.  Not having that meant the earphone couldn't be put together.
     I was certain I'd dropped it to the floor.  Two questions - how did it get onto the upper desk - and who put it there?

Tunnock The Terrific
     Conrad has long known the delights of the biscuits made by Tunnocks, viz. the evidence in his lunchbox:

Upper right corner.  Also, marvel at the rigid symmetry of Conrad's lunchbox.  Unlike his mind.

     Now, thanks to the Glasgow Games, those of the Commonwealth variety, the whole world knows about Tunnocks.  Oh, further illustration:

Which means everyone in Scotland eats these

     Some - those bitter Tunnock traditionalists who refuse to move into the 21st Century and who probably think an i-pod is slang for glasses - might decry the Dark Chocolate version of the Tunnock Caramel Wafer, but the future will prove the rest of us right!
    Where was I?  Oh, yes, the Games.  There were dancing teacakes there, you know.

The Apple Falls 187 Miles From The Tree
     Conrad will drink pretty much anything, even that ghastly sherry milkshake that he made once as an experiment, hoping Grandma wouldn't notice the level in the bottle had decreased a bit - that's a bit off-topic, ignore it.  So, he got offered a concoction described on the tin as "Blueberry Cider", to wit:

Nothing coloured like that can be good for you, can it?

     Hmmm.  It is blue, that much is correct.  Cider?  I shall get back to you on that.

The Artistic Process
     Yes, it's true.  Banging on about Titian and Giorgione has caused Conrad to think of himself as an artist.
     No!  Not a pen and ink or brush and pot kind of artist - Conrad has trouble drawing a straight line with the help of a bright light and a ruler - but the one who paints pictures with words**.
     Is Mister Hand up to something here?  I didn't add those asterisks <looks over shoulder suddenly, hurts neck, whimpers and looks back at screen>
     Yes, the artistic process.  I thought it might interest viewers if this got explained, with some pictures to pad out the post take up space illuminate the point.

     Step One:  The Idea
     This can evolve from a previous concept or spring, small but perfectly-formed, into 
     Conrad's mind.

Behind those cold, cruel eyes.

     Step Two: The Merry-go-Round
     That original idea then goes round and round and round Conrad's mind.  If you've ever
     seen a candy-floss machine at work, then that's how the original idea gets encrusted 
     with ever more detail and description.

It was this or a candy-floss machine, and this photo was ready to go

     Step Three: The Long-hand Notes
     There comes a point where Conrad has to get the ideas down on paper, otherwise 
     they would complete take over his mind and send him potty***.  Here we see notes
     from the Intermediate Notebook - far left - fleshed out with more detail in those 
     pages from the Large Notebook:

About eight hundred words of wisdom.  If wisdom is spelt "weird and drivel"

     Step Four:  Typing Stuff Up
     A typical chapter in The Great Zombie Novel might be five thousand words long, so
     the plot notes are more a framework to be improvised against.  Thus we end up with
     a lot of typed stuff:

Too small to see?  Trust me, it's great stuff.

That's Enough For Tonight
     I would like to point out that there will be no blog tomorrow.
     Why not? I can hear you thinking^
     Because Conrad shall be dragging his elderly carcass to a gig in Manchester tomorrow evening, at Kosmonaut, and he won't be going home afterwards, either, since his glamourous understudy Anna^^ has gotten him a discounted hotel room.  So, whereas normally I'd be baking - done tonight - or at the Pub Quiz - beating the coach-parties with Google on their phones - instead I will be <ahem> "rocking out" to From The Kites Of San Quentin", "Cogi" and "Sphelm".

Alcatraz.  Easily confused with San Quentin.

*  What can I say, I like a bit of choice
**  Mister Hand apologises for the nauseatingly pretentious drivel Conrad has put here.  Too much of the baking brandy!
*** It's a moot point how many people would notice.
^ Yes, telepathy is being developed by DARPA even as I type.
^^ Today looking good in a dress! - which comment will probably embarass her terribly.  Heh!