U.G.L.I.

If I Were To Say To You -
 - ah but you know Conrad so well already.  When I quote the blog title, I do not refer to the Ugli Fruit, which to be fair is not all that hideous, certainly not when compared to the inside of a Passion Fruit, or the outside of a Dragon Fruit.

     Nor to I mean "Underbarrel Grenade Launcher, Infantry", which is a handy attachment occasionally seen on the SA80, enabling the British soldier to make his opponent's life miserable even if they are under cover or behind a hill.

     NO!  I refer to an acronym of my own creation: Uniform Grey Layer Infinite.
     A picture will explain this rather better:

Proper ugly

     I am describing the skies above Manchester today.  Unbroken and grim from horizon to horizon, weeping copiously.  Imagine a foul unclean marshallow of one million tons deadweight. A blight on the sight and a drug on the market.  Looking to the hills - and you can't, as UGLI concentrates the damp so effectively beneath it's suffocating folds that the hills look ill.

"Clutterbuck"
On a whim, as with so much else, I wrote down this surname and then wondered where it came from.  Fearfully bad news for the Little Englanders and any UKIP members who may have strayed onto the premises, as it seems to be an Anglicized version of a Dutch name, from the Sixteenth Century.  "Cloerterbooke" was the original, from folks who came to England after being picked upon most grievously on the Continent.
     As to what Cloerterbooke means, your guess is as good as mine.

Clutterbook.
Pretty damn awesome in Conrad's opinion!

Z Nation
I think they redeemed themselves rather with this one, and once again no Citizen Z*.  Whilst on a boating trip, our heroes bump into those tellers of tall tales, Sketchy and Skeezy, although "sleazy" would apply to them both.  Forcibly detoured thanks to a river-wide zombie jam, 10K ends up with the two twisters, whilst the others venture on without him.

Not one of their better moments

     Things take a turn for the surreal when the trio come across an abandoned dentist's van, which they promptly purloin and drive along to Burr Town, named after Mister Burr.
     "My family came across on The Mayflower," he informs Sketchy.  "Before things all went to hell."
     "Ah, the Apocalypse," agrees Sketchy.

As you may have suspected, the truck had little to do with teeth.

     "Hell no!  The War of Northern Aggression!" hotly retorts Burr.  I should explain that this is the euphemism that some Southern South Canadians refer to their Civil War by.
     Well, it made me laugh.  The laughter dies on the lips of our trio when it turns out that the van belongs to the Zeros and El Scorpion, who promptly puts our heroes on trial.
     Sentenced to hang, they are rescued in the nick of time by a lady with a sackful of guns - who had earlier been making with the goo-goo eyes at 10K.
     Chaos!  Confusion!  The old shooting-the-hangman's-rope trick!

Well, two out of three's not bad

     Now, the economy of Burr Town had been established upon the exploitation of zombie labour, which - as you must surely realise - only requires minimum wage and a zero hours contract**.  That anarchic lady with the bag of bang-sticks then sets the zombies loose and - chaos!  confusion!  everyone in Burr Town too drunk to remember that they have guns!

Sketchy and Skeezy get a "Butch & Sundance" moment.
I hope they come back, I like these sleazebags.

First Bus, Roadworks And Conrad's Ire
Once again the staff and drivers of First Bus can consider themselves lucky that automatic weapons are not common issue in this country, nor are flamethrowers, microtonne-warhead rocket launchers and phased plama rifles in the forty watt range.
     "What!" I can hear you cry.  "What has shocked you out of your customary sweetness and light veneer of pleasantry dark sullen moroseness?"

Conrad, sweet, pleasant or morose.  One face fits all.

     Roadworks, dear reader, roadworks.  Manchester City Council's Road Obstruction Planners have decided to close off both northward lanes of the A57 at Moston.  This means a mile-long diversion on a single road that adds at least fifteen minutes to the journey - twenty-five last night.  So when the 24 reached Royton, that's where it ended.  No!  Silly passengers. Foolish passengers!  Woefully wishful passengers!  So what if it says "Rochdale" on the sign, adapt or die!
     The roadworks are going to be there all week, and Conrad confidently expects First Bus to be late all week, as they are at least consistent in that way.
     Besides, fifteen minutes late?  That's practically on-time for First.

First Bus: thinking outside the box.  Way, way waaaaay outside the box!

<right, off to get another cup of tea>

This Isn't An Ugli Fruit Either
Although nobody could accuse the humble pumpkin of being especially attractive, certainly not before carving chunks out of it.

     Conrad intends to cut the top off with a saw, then use an ice cream scoop to get out the seeds, and then to HACK AND SLASH until I've got enough flesh out of it for my Halloween Pumpkin Cake recipe, although I might make it into cupcakes instead.

Egad!  A Bit Of Book Clutter
NANOWRIMO has caused Conrad to dig out various written bits of plot and character that have accumulated over the years, thus -

This is just the hand-written stuff

     The impetus of having to come up with a novel novel idea might impel me to actually type these up and put them into order***.  I have until Sunday, when the competition begins, so we shall see.  When I did it five years ago I only came across the competition four days into November, so the odds were stacked agin me - but your not-so-humble scribe prevailed^.



* I notice these omissions.  
** They never mention "Shaun of the Dead" but I reckon it must have inspired Burr.
*** "Might".  The odds are stacked against it.
^ Hoorah!