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A Quick One, While He's Away

Once again, I apologize for my lack of entries...but the times where I have managed to break away from Marty for a little while have been few and in-between over this last month. As a matter of fact, I had to feign an incense stupor to get Marty to pop off to the Everton/Tottenham match without me. I never thought Marty could get so clingy, but he must have missed me quite a bit more than I realized last month.

I suppose one of the more noteworthy things about these past few weeks is Marty and I's new favourite telly show...How Clean Is Your House?. Yes, you have read that correct...we like something that showcases the nastiest homes and people throughout the UK. And to be very honest, I don't think it's the show Marty and I get into as much as just the opportunity to utter "EWWWWWWWW!!!" at something. At the risk of once again showing what we spirits are reduced to doing when having absolutely nothing else better to do, during viewings of HCIYH, Marty and I have mini-contests of out-"EWWWWWWW!!"ing each other...which often end with us laughing off our bums at one another.

Though, we've learned the hard way that when having such 'contests', and really, when we are watching the telly in the flats or houses of the living,  we have to be veeeeeery mindful of the possibility of the owner of the flat/house being psychic.  A couple of weeks ago, Marty and I settled into a flat and our viewing of HCIYH...and the moment one of us let out our first "EWWWWWWW!!", there was a startling "YIPE!!!" in a room down the tiny hallway adjacent to the flat's living room. And before Marty and I knew, the sounds of stomping feet started up and got louder as they approached the living room...the stomping feet of a man who had been more than obviously trying to shave, made evident by not only the foam covering most of his face, but also the bleeding gash on his bare right cheek. We didn't know what to say, but the man sure did...rambling on and on about how the heck we got into his flat, why we wear all white clothing, if the white clothing is indicative of our being in a cult, and why other members of 'our cult' keep visiting his flat and watching the telly. That last thing caught Marty and I's attention, and made us realize that, in addition to the flat's owner being an absolute nutcase like most other psychics, we were not the only ghosts to visit that particular flat for some telly time. But, before we could chuckle at the bloke's predicament, Marty and I popped out of the place.

Ooooh...speaking of nutty psychics, I suppose I have enough time to share with you readers what Marty and I did for our New Year's festivities this time around. Instead of joining the gathering of mortals around the London Eye for the fireworks or the gathering of our kind in the Limbo pub, we decided to pay a visit to a 'friend' of ours in Calvin P. Breem Jr.. Calvin happens to possess the ability to see ghosts when he is drunk, as his dad could when he lived and Marty found out when he and his friend and detective partner, Jeff Randall, had to deal with Calvin Sr., a conman, during one of their cases. As a matter of fact, we first happened upon Calvin Jr. at a major New Year's ball about fifteen or so years ago. Marty immediately recognized Junior's aura as being just like Senior's, in addition to the younger Bream having the same eyes and overall face as the elder, according to Marty. While Junior did not follow in his father's footsteps and become a conman, he was (and still is) involved with politics...which made Marty and I jokingly figure that the apple did not fall too far from the tree afterall.

Anyway, as Marty and I glanced at Calvin Jr. and I was being told about his background, an obviously smashed Junior spotted us and speedily made his way over to us, as if we were long lost friends. And boy, he sure acted like it...from acknowledging how 'stunning' we were in our white suit and dress (and how nifty and clever it was that our outfits matched one another), to how he could have sworn that he knew Marty from somewhere but could not place the name (making my friend and neighbour wonder if Senior told Junior about his exploits with he and Jeff), to even the fact that we were 'a downright cute couple' (I was very amazed that Marty did not fly off the handle right then and there...keep in mind that this was quite sometime before Marty and I have finally started to get closer with our relationship). And as if that was not crazy enough, Junior constantly kept trying to pat Marty on the head and shoulders (expectedly having his hand go through Marty without even realizing it AND making Marty psychically tell me that if his hairpiece had been knocked off (as it most likely would have been by Calvin Jr.'s actions if we were actually living), Breemers would have woken the next morning with a knot on his head) AND even hug me AND pinch my bum!! "Gotta luv the ladies!"...yuck. If there was any time I was so, SO glad to not be tangible. Oh, wow, and I almost forgot about how he even held a toast to us, 'his two new best friends', among his political pals.

So, why on Earth do Marty and I have anything to do with such a character?

Because Calvin Jr. made the big, BIG mistake of saying that we were invited to all future New Year's Eve parties hosted by him. And so whenever we sense Junior hosting a party on the very last night of the year, Marty and I cannot help but pop over there to give Breemers a hard time and see him make even more a complete drunk fool of himself than he was/is before we arrive. Something we cannot help doing after the particular evening I just told about...not to mention that the reactions of those around Jr. are quite priceless. The only reason they're not more-so that is because everyone attributes Calvin Jr.'s seeing two invisible white clothed spirits to the spirits constantly in his glass.

Well...I better go. As much as I like having time to myself sometimes, I am already feeling rather bad for lying to Marty. So therefore, I think it is best that I join him at Goodison Park. Hopefully, the Toffees will beat the Spurs...they need all the points they can gather if they hope to at least catch up to Chelsea.     

Long Time, No Write

*sighs* Yes, I know it has been a long time since my last entry again...and as much as it pains me to say it, you can blame Marty for that. With one or two exceptions (mostly because he was in a smashingly good mood), he's always been a bit funny about my running a LiveJournal, and telling you readers about our exploits throughout London, England, and Limbo. Well, my entry about our encounter with 'Sapphire' and 'Steel' was the straw that broke the camel's back...and I probably should not have told Marty about it, but I was still so distraught over the ordeal that I couldn't help it... 

At first, Marty was comforting...but then, when it dawned on him what I was talking about, he suddenly got an alarmed look on his face. Why? I have no clue...unless he too was still frazzled by what happened and was afraid that 'Sapphire' and 'Steel' were going to somehow happen upon my entry about them and put us in some kind of cosmic prison for my telling the world about their presence. To this day, that's the only thing I can figure about Marty's reaction...that and/or the fact that he has always never known what to make of a lot of the technology that has come out over the last thirty years...especially computers, the Internet, and video games. Especially the video games of the last year or two...which, I will admit frustrate me too with their controllers requiring more than button pushes. Oh, the good old nights of Marty and I sneaking into flats and houses just to see how far we could get on...oh, what was it called? The Legend of Zelda? That sounds right...we had such a great time seeing how far we could get on that game. And if memory further serves me well, the farthest we got was Level 7...by the time we were in there, our heads would be hurting from more-than-extensive telekinesis use (despite our taking turns on who manipulated the character and who pressed the buttons for the sword and items). Not to mention that the sun would be rising, prompting us to abandon ship before the flat/house owner(s) woke up and discovered their Nintendo oddly playing by itself.

Anyway, after Marty found out what I had wrote, one comment led to another, and before the two of us knew it, we had a spat on our hands. And the spat ended with us deciding to part ways, against our better judgement...especially considering that it was not like we have anyone else to talk to. I didn't and still don't have other friends and/or a chosen one. And Marty's friend and chosen one, Jeff Randall, is wherever we are really supposed to be, as well as his wife, Jeannie, and her second husband.

Even though I was angry at Marty for his being ridiculous about my LiveJournal writing and that was the prime reason for our argument, I also could not help but be mad at him because... well, because, over the last ten or so years, I have been finding myself liking Marty as more than just a friend. When I lived, I never had time for a boyfriend with not only my auto racing career, but also my having to be at this car premiere and that autograph signing. So, when I initially met Marty, despite the fact that I approached him and sparked our friendship, I was relatively shy. But, despite his reservations (no thanks to his still having quite strong feelings for Jeannie at the time), Marty helped me climb out of my shyness, and I helped him climb out of his. And in addition to being helpful to one another, Marty and I have had so many fun times together AND we have so much in common. From our fondness for cars to similar entertainment and sport tastes to similar pet peeves to even the fact that we both hail from Liverpool. While Marty lived in Liverpool throughout most of his childhood and teenage years, my family and I moved from there to London when I was about four or five years old. And while my family managed to lose their Scouser accents over the years, I retained a semblance of one...that semblance Marty picked up on during one of our first conversations.

But anyway, I really wished Marty would come clean on his feelings towards me...I knew and especially sensed that he too thinks of me as more than a friend. What started out being me asking Marty if I could accompany him has turned into him simply beckoning me to come with him whenever he gets tired of gravesitting, which is more than often. Not to mention how whenever I am in stress of any kind, Marty is immediately at my side, asking what is wrong, and sometimes, if he can help. He may not admit to it, at least for now, but he does very much care about me...to the point where I do believe it would break his heart if something were to somehow ever happen to me.

That said, while our spat-induced separation was our longest yet, helped by the fact that it's only the second argument we have ever had, (the other one being over something so stupid...that's another entry) Marty and I did eventually get back together...in what was quite the embrace from behind at my grave. I was sitting there on Christmas Eve, admiring the snow gently falling in the faint light of the full moon, and could not help but think of how the white glow of the flakes reminded me of Marty's handsome white suit and aura. And before I knew it, Marty materialized, with his arms wrapped around me, and said how it took sometime, but I finally thought of him. In addition to what was easily the largest hug he has ever given me thus far, Marty also gave me a lovely kiss on my cheek...my first from him after all of these years of having known him! He also said that he was sorry for his overreaction, and as if it had not been made obvious enough, really missed me. Having missed Marty myself and it being Christmas, I accepted the apology (and apologized too for not handling my side of the argument as maturely as I could have...there having been a six year age difference between Marty and I when we lived probably not helping) and returned the embrace and kiss as the snow fell around us and faintly in the distance, Big Ben told London of Christmas Day's arrival.

*sighs* Who knew my first kiss would come thirty-seven years after my death? And it may not have been upon my 'lips', but needless to say, I am quite proud of the immediate progress in Marty and I's relationship. I apologize for not reporting on it sooner, but I wanted to be careful and not immediately anger Marty again. And...drat, he's back at his grave. My telling about our New Year's festivities will have to wait...

Lost In Space

I know it has been about a month since I last 'wrote' an entry...but the truth is that Marty and I thought we had only been away for a day.

Seriously, remember when I mentioned there actually being an outside to Limbo's pub, with restaurants and stores for us cursed souls to wander to? Well, Marty and I finally got brave enough to venture further out into that and headed towards a restaurant in hopes of there actually being something good to eat. We approached a place called "Wyvern's", and being the gentleman he is, Marty opened the door and let me enter first. Before I knew it, instead of a restaurant, there was complete nothingness with a few stars(?) scattered about the place, and I was immediately sucked in as if I was a dustbunny being pulled in by a vacuum cleaner. Before I could warn him psychically, Marty entered and was sucked in too! 
We soared through space or wherever the heck we were for a long time. Marty and I eventually happened a rather pecuiliar looking bridge or bridge-like object floating about, and we somehow managed to land on it. The moment we did that (and were trying our best to pop out of wherever we were, but kept getting 'headaches', as if a block had been placed in our minds), a brown haired man and a blonde haired woman materialized before us on the other side of the 'bridge'. They were dressed rather nice, in a gray suit and blue dress, respectively. And as they approached us, the man and woman kept glancing at us and whispering to one another...through those whisperings, Marty and I picked up on their names being 'Sapphire' and 'Steel'. When they got to being about four-five feet away from us, 'Steel' said, in a rather droning voice, some gibberish about Marty and I 'having caused a breach in time'. Very needless to say, we had no idea what this 'Steel' was talking about. But, seeing how they were there AND Marty and I just wanted to go home, we decided that one of us better ask 'Steel' or 'Sapphire' how to get back to Earth. Protective one he tends to be, Marty opted to be the one to do the asking, and beckoned me to get behind him in case something should go awry. As I did that, Marty slowly approached 'Steel', who was watching every step of Marty's with those beady eyes. When he was within a good speaking distance, Marty asked 'Steel' where we were and how we get back home. He also managed to throw in that we knew we did not belong wherever we were, and that we did not mean to be there at all. 
I thought Marty did a good job explaining our plight to 'Steel'...but 'Steel' only gave us even more of a cold, scrutinizing stare...making us feel like schoolchildren who had misbehaved rather severely. At first I did not notice anything unusual...I thought Marty was just anticipating whatever 'Steel' was going to do next. But then, it dawned on me that Marty was not making a sound or any movement...'Steel' had done something to him with that stare of his!! I started to panic deep down...how was I going to save Marty...from both 'Steel' and whatever the bloody hell 'Steel' had done to him! 
Doing my best to not shed any 'tears', I gritted my 'teeth', and felt a spanner form in my hand. Again, I have no idea how I got the spanner to materialize, other than it was a time of high stress, and I knew I possibly needed to defend myself. And defend myself and the frozen Marty I prepared to do...gingerly taking my steps towards 'Steel' as a HUGE comet soared overhead. I glared at 'Steel' like he did at Marty and I, wishing that my stare could freeze 'Steel'. And yet, as angry as I was at the situation, I could not hold my tears back anymore...not exactly being sure what had happened to Marty and if he could be revived AND making the mistake of briefly looking at the ectoplasmic 'statue' of my friend and neighbour behind me. 
So there I fell right there at 'Steel''s feet, losing my tomboyish edge, and dropping my spanner onto the bridge's surface. And as I lost it, something told me to glance up towards 'Sapphire', who had been witnessing what had happened with nary an emotion crossing her pale face. Somehow, she saw my upset eyes, and in a droning tone, said to 'Steel' to stop and that we did not mean any harm. 'Steel' was trying his best to not be convinced...telling 'Sapphire' to look at our clothes and how obvious it was that we did not belong there. And 'Sapphire' countered back that we had never tried to do any harm (making me glad that I started crying when I did and never made any motions to throw or swing my spanner, which had then disappeared). 
After what seemed like ten or so human minutes, 'Sapphire' somehow convinced 'Steel' that Marty and I were not harm-doers, getting 'Steel' to undo what he had done to Marty. As he came out of his paralyzed state, Marty was a little disoriented at first, but immediately came to...and got ready to put his fists up to challenge 'Steel' to a fight over what he had done to him. Quickly, I ran over to Marty, gesturing to put his fists down, and mouthing that I think we were getting ready to go home. As I did that, 'Sapphire' and 'Steel' mentioned something about calling another 'operative'(? something like that) and disappeared in a flash. Before we knew it, there was another flash, and standing before us was another man in a suit similar to 'Steel''s. This chap looked towards the starscape, and with a gesture, made an area of light appear in the middle of space! Then, he glanced at Marty and I, and without a word, beckoned us over and pointed towards the light. Knowing we had no other choice, Marty and I took on the silent advice...
...and found ourselves back at our graves, as if nothing had happened!! Oh, but something had happened, and we knew it...particularly when, after we got over being in a state of shock and confusion over what we had gone through, we took our nightly walk in downtown London, and noticed Christmas decorations up everywhere AND a newspaper with the date of December 1st being blown about! And Marty and I knew that when we had last gone to Limbo, Halloween had just passed! 

Oh wow...does my head hurt. I have to admit that my manner of 'writing' probably came across as manic. But I honestly could not help it...and you wouldn't either if the only person you had to talk to was frozen (and possibly 'killed'!) AND you were in the middle of an incredibly strange place! I swear, just when Marty and I think we have firm grasps on being ghosts, someone or something throws a cutter at us!

I need to calm down...this may be a more than good time to take yet another 'holiday' of sorts...maybe I can talk Marty into doing such a thing, that is, if he is not too worried about being away from 'potential crimes'...you should hear him go on about all of the purse snatchings and possible murders we could have prevented in the last month...
Oh, and very needless to say, Marty and I are not venturing out of Limbo's pub again for quite sometime, if ever again at all.


*whew!* I've got to catch my 'breath'...other than those dealings with pranksters, this has been the busiest few days for Marty and I in sometime! 

October 31st

We almost forgot that Everton had a match in Luton Town...and remembered to pop over at the Kenny, Luton's stadium, and just in time for the kick-off! The game was rather boring...and it got to the point where Marty and I knew we had to get back in case the cemetery needed further protecting...so it was decided that the Toffees needed a little help, and Marty blew in the ball for that game-winning goal.
Halloween/All Saints' Day 

After some considering, Marty and I decided to take our witching day festivities to both Earthly plane and Limbo locales. Before we were off to whichever party or two we decided to mingle at, Marty and I had to figure who we were going to be 'dressing' as...and it took is a little while, but we chose to go as David Beckham (complete with football uniform and shorts!) and Posh Spice (complete with a tacky halter top and hot pants!). Who says we are not 'hip'? 

In all honesty, we chose who we were because they scare us...with their football playing (at least when on Manchester United) and so-called music and fashion taste, respectively.

Anyway, before we made our merry way over to Limbo for the festivities there, Marty and I decided to first hit London and see what parties were going on throughout there. We also visited the neighborhoods to see what was going on with the trick-or-treaters...in addition to party-hopping, that has become a tradition with the two of us over the years. Not only do we enjoy seeing the kids and their costumes, but we also like helping any children who are experiencing various woes during what should be a jolly fun evening. Woes like candy falling out of a bag (I've lost count of the times Marty or I have used telekinesis to make sweets 'scatter' back into a bag or bucket and/or mend that container), falling onto the rough sidewalk (while we unfortunately cannot make wounds stop bleeding, we can at least make the pain go away), and/or dealing with bullies (simply make the bullies' sweet stashes fall out of their hands and scatter, giving the victim(s) ample time to get away). Even though it makes us feel good to stop various crimes throughout London when we can, nothing warms Marty and I's 'hearts' more than to help the wee ones.

Around 10:00 Earth/human time, when the last of the trick-or-treaters had retired to their homes, we finally popped up into Limbo to see how the other cursed souls were celebrating. It turns out that in addition the usual Halloween-ish music (the tune being play as Marty and I entered the pub being "The Time Warp" from that Rocky Horror Picture Show movie) and smattering of drinks throughout the place, a contest was getting ready to take place...a Karaoke one. And there was a theme with this contest: To do a song associated with your costume one way or another. We were not sure we were in a Karaoke mood...until we heard there was a prize for the 'best singer'...in this instance, the one who could complete their song without getting booed off the stage. 

My song choice was a piece of cake..."Wannabe", the only Spice Girls song I somewhat knew/know, no thanks to some mourner's car CONSTANTLY blaring out that song every single visit for two straight months. On the other hand, Marty wanted to do the contest too...but did not know what song to do. Oh, he and I knew he could have done the Manchester United fight song. But, and as Marty told me then, he wouldn't sing the Man U fight song, even if his very soul was on the line. Yes, he is that devout an Evertonian. Speaking of which, Marty finally figured that he was going to sing the Everton fight song (specifically, the one that goes "We're the Pride of Merseyside"), regardless of what people thought. Afterall, it is football related just like David Beckham, right?!

We waited our turns on the stage...while we did that, Marty and I ended up having a couple of Zombies for our poison of choice. And therefore, we were feeling pretty good when the first of us was announced for the time to sing...Marty.

It was a disaster. And I could see it coming a mile away when Marty spoke to the instrumentalist and Karaoke machine operator about his song preference, and was given a "You cannot be serious?!" look. Despite that, they went through with the Toffee fight song...the first two lines of which brought out every single bloody Man U fan throughout the whole bloody place. I apologize for such harsh language, but if Marty and I had known that everyone else in the Limbo pub Halloween bash were such avid nuts for the Beckham's former team, Marty certainly would not have chosen his performance piece. And it got to the point where a few lunatics even tossed empty drink glasses at Marty!! Very thankfully, he was able to dematerialize before the glasses hit him. And dematerialized he remained...as he sat back down at my side, but knew he better dare not show his face again until we were out of there...which we were just five minutes later. I certainly did not feel like doing any Karaoke after that mess, and wanted Marty to be able to show himself around me again.

Hello? Marty's finally back from Everton's match against Birmingham (and judging by his aura, they won...yay!), coincidentally enough. Even though prankster season is nearing its end, one of us had to stay behind to make sure there were not any last minute scragglers. And I could not keep Marty from his beloved Toffees...that said, I'm glad the experience I got through describing did not rattle him for the most part.

Party All The Time

This is actually a misleading title...for Marty and I have not exactly been partying all the time lately. The closest we've come to doing that before Wednesday was the Toffees' win over Derby, which we found out about through a sports section blowing through the graveyard. Yes, you read that right, we did not attend the Derby match at the Old Lady. We were too busy fending off the hoards of rowdies deciding to create messes of all sorts here in the cemetery...whom and which have gotten bad enough to the point where Marty and I had no choice but to do a little hypnosis practice on the rabble-rousers' heads. 

Speaking of which, I did express my concerns about using hypnosis on the pranksters to Marty...and he understood my being worried. But then he proceeded to tell me something interesting that he had never told me before: That he had used his hypnosis powers on his best friend and business partner, Jeff Randall, at least a couple of times. One of those times was practically a matter of life and death for Jeff, who was under the influence of AND on the verge of ODing on mind-altering drugs constantly 'prescribed' by a quack of a psychiatrist named Dr. Conrad. Jeff was tricked into seeing Conrad by Marty's wife, Jeannie, and her sister, Jennie...obviously neither of whom knew of Conrad's being a fraud. Anyway, if it had not been for Marty's hypnosis, Jeff would have remained in his hospital bed and Conrad and his thugs would've stayed in front of bars.
Thanks to that vote of confidence (along with Marty complimenting me for my thinking and saying that we should have started using hypnosis a lot earlier), the graveyard is now 99% rowdy free! Not 100% because until Halloween is over, the prankster threat does remain...but at least Marty and I can actually relax now AND start thinking about our Halloween plans for this year.

Yes, just like our living counterparts, we ghosts have parties celebrating the witching day/night too. In both Limbo and on Earth...Marty and I have attended our fair share on both planes, and like humans' parties, the quality of spiritual parties varies. For every great party we've been at, there have been about two stinkers of parties. And interestingly enough, most of those rubbish parties have been on the Earthly plane...the more 'memorable' of them being the one Marty and I attended here in the cemetery once, about twenty or so years ago. We had no choice in the matter...we, along with about six or seven other cursed 'spooks', were invited by another cursed neighbour, about five-ten graves down from us. And since both Marty and I had been brought up to be polite and courteous, we accepted the invitation...

So, the ten of us met at the apple tree in the center of the graveyard right after sundown that Halloween night. and did nothing. Seriously, nothing. There was no music to dance to, no appropriate movie to watch, absolutely nothing. And a few of our neighbors tried their best to conjure up something for entertainment...but it was obvious that they were not nearly as advanced as Marty and I with their powers...and really were just as such at best. The only one of us who was real jovial at the get-together was this middle-aged lady in Victorian-like garb who was all smiles and laughs because she was going to be freed from her curse the next evening. And needless to say, that made some of us rather jealous of her...though, that jealousy went away that next evening when Marty and I heard that lady's shrieks when she was 'freed' and re-entered her grave, further adding to our not being so sure we want to be 'freed' when our time comes in six decades from now.

Even though Marty and I do not think super highly of Limbo, we agree that the best parties have been there...and that may be helped by those being 'masquerade' ones. Such events give spirits like us the opportunity to practice a little-known ghostly art...that of image projection. Whenever we want to appear in front of those who can see us, we use, in addition to materialization and telepathy, image projection...which is when we control how we precisely want to appear, right down to our 'outfits'. The only frustrating thing about image projection when it comes to clothes is that the only colors we can manage are white and this atrocious lime green...needless to say, Marty and I both prefer white.

But going back to those Limbo Halloween masquerade balls....it is always fun to come up with something or someone to be for those things. When Marty and I were just starting out as friends and first attending those, our 'costumes' were unrelated to one another. But as the years come and go, we have slowly gotten more creative...some of my favorites being when we were Marc Anthony and Cleopatra (though, I could not help but be jealous of Marty and his managing to get his cape to be red...he says it's just the way it is, since he conjured up the 'costume' one other time, when helping Jeff with a case involving a lady who was a supposed fake psychic...), John Steed and Tara King (would have been Emma Peel, but I've never been fond of having long hair), and James Bond and Moneypenny...the very latter happening to consist of Marty and I wearing the 'clothes' we always wear and claiming to be dressed as Bond and his secretary... *grins* 

Well...I shall close this for now. This peace in the cemetery is something else, and I cannot help but want to enjoy it for a little while longer...hello? Marty, what have you foun...oh no, not again...and to think that we used to look forward to incense burn..djfljekoigfa;eojigkna;ogfikja;ogfikjna;wojikfikojmkif...         

Cleaning Up the (Grave)Yard

As we steadily approach Halloween...and Marty and I can certainly feel it coming, as I have pointed out here sometime ago. In addition to the frequent incense burnings and seances (between those and the recent Everton game (hooray for the Toffees finally getting a win!), it has been a very busy couple of days for me and my neighbour/friend), there is just an energy in the air that grows with each day closer to the holiday. Marty and I cannot explain it...but anything that gives us more energy than normal to the point of being able to finally withstand incense stupor symptoms for the time being is more than welcome, especially after that very startling Newcastle incident.

That same energy is supposedly what draws many cursed souls like us to Stonehenge...at least, as we have heard in whispers throughout Limbo's pub. Marty and I have yet to be drawn towards Stonehenge...that is, against our wills, anyway. There was one year about ten-twenty years ago where I wanted to visit Stonehenge on All Hallows' Eve to satisfy my curiosity of what exactly goes on at that place during the holiday. Marty wanted nothing to do with the trip, telling me that he had never been all that comfortable with the supernatural when he lived, and that there were some aspects of it he still did not care for. But, he ended up accompanying me anyway...overprotective thing he had and still has a tendency to be...

Stonehenge turned out to be a load of nothing...just a smattering of counter-culture types in robes and/or other garments beating on drums and dancing around the ancient structure. And funnily enough, I think Marty was even more disappointed than I was at the so-called spectacle... Though, the trip was not a complete waste...we happened upon a souvenir stand set up by someone trying to cash in on the 'event', and ended up unnoticably (as in the owner of the stand was as, well, stoned as the 'druids' we wasted about thirty human minutes watching) playing around with a Stonehenge-themed Jenga game. The moment of the evening being when one of the 'druids' happened by the stand, 'saw' us playing Jenga, and noted to the stand owner...

"Hey...bloody awesome! A Jenga game that plays with itself!"

Not even going into how wrong that completely sounded...but the moment that left the bloke's lips, Marty and I keeled over with laughter AND disbelief in what we had heard.

Anyway, Marty and I and spirits like us are not the only ones to feel the incredible power of this time of the year...unfortunately, those with a knack for mischief do too. And this week has been a red letter one for gangs of pranksters invading the cemetery. Marty and I cannot help but observe the numbers of such groups and their members seeming to increase with each year during the last decade. And though it highly bothers us, we are at least thankful that we are in a position to do something about all of the vandalism and disturbing of the peace in the graveyard, at least to the best of our abilities.

Giving the pranksters their just desserts has been rather tricky lately...the apple tree in the middle of the cemetery has shaken off the last of its fruits for this year, and Marty and I's usual tricks with wind and telekinesis are starting to wear thin with who are getting to be the most frequent visitors. As much as we hate having to do it, we may have to mess with the rowdies' heads the next time they decide to come and egg or spray-paint the rubbish of a phrase du jour on some graves. Marty and I really, REALLY try our very best to avoid having to hypnotize humans...much like we want to hurt (at least just a little bit) pranksters who insist on making a ruckus near and throughout our 'home', but we certainly do not want to kill the morons; we do not want to cause brain damage with our hypnosis ability. Marty and I don't know if our hypnosis is THAT strong...but we do not care to find out if we don't have to.

Well, I better get back to my grave...at long last, Marty and I have decided to take up our gravesitting chores again, at least for the rest of this month and through the holiday. In addition to having to keep an eye out for peace disturbers, we need to have a pow-wow for coming up with some better ideas than possibly scrambling some brains...        

Limbo Unbound

Believe it or not, Marty and I did not fall prey to yet another incense stupor...we fled to Limbo before the slightest possibility of that happening. Curse whomever in Newcastle did that to us...thanks to that incident, Marty and I have been quite wary of 'having a smoke' lately AND helping our Toffees out of losing like they did to Liverpool. *sighs*
Anyway, after spending a couple of days in Limbo, here we are back at our tombs once again...Marty's still fuming over that loss to the Reds, despite the fact that I let him win quite a few rounds on the video racing game AND snooker table in Limbo's arcade. And don't let that fool you...while Marty is not the world's greatest video racer or snooker player, he can beat me up pretty good at foosball. He actually admitted to me that one of the things he enjoyed doing besides detectiving and being with his wife, Jeannie, when living was suckering his best friend, Jeff Randall, into playing the occasional round of foosball with him. According to Marty, Jeff could sneak in the very rare win on the table at their favorite pub, but more often than not, Marty cleaned his clock. And after playing against him quite a bit, that I can certainly believe...

While we were goofing off in the arcade, we thought we overheard whispers of the possibility of an air hockey table finally making a presence in the near future. If this is true: Yay!! Limbo's arcade's contents have been the same for...what? Maybe ten or twelve Earth years now? However long it has been, Limbo's arcade needing more amusements has been a constant subject within Marty and I's conversations. And if there is any amusement we have clamoured for, it is certainly an air hockey table, especially after watching many mortals play on one whenever we wander through a pub or game center of sorts.
Once we got tired of the arcade, for once, Marty and I decided that we did not really want a drink...so we ended up doing something that we had never done in our almost four decades of being spectres: We ventured out of Limbo's pub. What stood before us was a mall of some kind. In addition to plenty of cursed ghosts like us floating about all over the place, there were a few stores and even a couple of restaurants! Marty and I stood there, our 'heads' turning about, beholding the spectacle before us. And while we felt anxious at the prospect of exploring the stores AND getting to do more than just sit at the table, at the same time, we felt like morons...was THIS what we were afraid of? Heck, could it be through one of those stores where that Bugsy character got his tommy gun and cigars? Marty and I figure it has to be...

...though, we really did not venture any further for the time being, thanks to Marty still being in a sour mood, and therefore not feeling like exploring. I get the feeling that he normally would not have gottten hung up on a football game like this when he was living...further proving what we spirits tend to be reduced to sometimes with this earthbound curse. And that said, it makes me shudder to think of the shape Marty would be in if it weren't for my companionship, especially with Jeff and Jeannie having gone to wherever we are really supposed to be... 

That said, I better go into town and see if I can find an flat abandoned for the day by a worker of some kind...particularly one with a decent DVD player and a DVD of some episodes of On The Buses or Are You Being Served? lying around. If there is anything that can snap Marty out of his funk, it is one or both of those shows...  

Trying This Again...

*whew!* Well, thank goodness that incense stupor was nowhere near as wretched as that one Marty and I fell under in Newcastle...I could not help but be worried that was where our incense high was heading, given the strength of the lure and all. But thankfully, we just got as close to being drunk as a ghost can be...making me wonder what the heck we have been doing a few hours ago. Hmmmmm...

Think, Caroline, think...

...I remember...meandering through the streets of Liverpool...and happening upon a red Mini. Marty said something about the car looking a lot like the one he and his wife, Jeannie, owned, and how much he had cherished the vehicle. I dared him to get in and start the car with his telekinesis. We popped into the car, and Marty did get it to start, and...Oh. Dear. Oh. No. It is vague, but I remember us getting about a kilometer down the road before Marty crashed into a hydrant, causing water to spray everywhere into the street. And the whole time, we were just giggling and carrying on like that couple in Topper... 

Even though we can get away with antics like that, such things still weigh heavily on my conscious, and Marty's too. And that said, most of us ghosts really do not mean any harm...and if our antics are not because we are bored, it is because we are under the influence of incense or a similar substance.

And it is not just the hydrant that bothers me, but the fact that we deliberately wrecked someone's car...a very nice and well kept one too, if my memory is serving me correctly. Needless to say, having had a fondness for automobiles when I lived, seeing cars, especially pristine ones, wrecked breaks my 'heart'. That fondness for cars is actually another thing Marty and I have in common...whenever he is not regaling me with tales of his endeavors as a private investigator, I am returning the favor with stories of my racing days. 

As a matter of fact, when Marty and I first started chatting with one another almost forty years ago, I could not help but ask if he was/had been any relation to Paddy Hopkirk, the 1964 Monte Carlo Rally champion. He is/was not, but I did manage to get him to laugh and smile at the question...quite an accomplishment then, considering that the bloke was not nearly as comfortable around me as he has become through all these years...

And speaking of Mr. Hopkirk, he is now right beside me...apparently, Marty sensed my being upset at the thought of what we had done in our 'inebriated' state.
Hello Caroline! Is something wrong? I felt you being unhappy...

Well...yes Marty, I am somewhat concerned about something. But, can we please wait and talk about it when I am through with this?

Through with what?

My online journal. Remember how I told you about being able to transfer my thoughts into typed words when I'm near an Internet source? I showed you when we stayed at that house near the cemetery...

Oh...yes, I remember that!

Well, unless you don't mind the general public reading your words, you better pop over to somewhere about a kilometer or so away...

What? You mean what I'm saying can be read by the Internet?

Yes. Afterall, we are 'thinking' when we are talking to one another. Maintaining a journal is as easy as that! Though, I still haven't figured out how to go back and delete words...so, I am afraid that what you said is there to stay. Sorry, Marty.

Aw...that's alright, Caroline. Still don't know if I want one of those journals...but I'm sure you are doing a smashing job with yours! I'm going ahead to the Grand Old Lady...ok?

Ok Marty...just one thing, don't go flouting the new souvenirs without me.

You know I'll be waiting for you...cheerio, Caroline!

Cheerio, Marty!

It can never be said enough: One of these days, I'm going to talk him into getting a LiveJournal. Deep down, he knows he wants a wider audience for those stories of his detective days, especially that one about him being 'a national hero' and getting involved with spies and military matters...
But anyway, as you can pick up from Marty and I's conversation, I'm getting ready to be Everton-bound. Just a few hours before the big game with Liverpool...and we still got to get in our traditional knocking of the more ridiculous souvenirs bearing the Everton FC's name and logo...particularly the inflatable rubbish. Gone are the good old days of the loo paper, knickers, and talking bear banks...as if the dippy things those banks would say were bad enough, they made that Teddy Ruxpin doll we encountered at some toy shoppe seem 'normal'...that's another story I will have to tell sometime soon. 

Oh The Places We've Been Part Three

Due apologies for a redundant title, but it just so happens that Marty and I's gravesitting was brief, thanks to Marty realizing that Everton's next match was coming up in a couple of days, now just tomorrow. Not having anything better to do, apart from our usual London wanderings, we decided to make yet another holiday of the upcoming football bout with Liverpool, and take our wanderings to Liverpool...

Oh...hello? Marty's contacting me...you have found what? Oh dear...I think I know what he has found...I detect the presence of Lavender...and Jasmine...this will have to be cut....very...sho..mfepigjmapea'wjeomfw'apjgme'agvmE"Pgvk...

Oh The Places We've Been Part Two

Finally, Marty and I are back from our venture into Coventry and Nottingham...the latter city proving to be much more of an adventure than we anticipated, nor really wanted...

Before we arrived at Nottingham, Marty and I enjoyed a pleasant bus trip, for the most part. As we were admiring the autumn foilage, or at least trying to, we were still working on trying to master the ability to conjure up various items to use. One of us was somewhat successful...I managed to make a white open-ended spanner appear in my right hand. While I have to admit to being delighted at making some sort of progress, at the same time, I cannot help but be a little disappointed because I was really trying to have a deck of playing cards manifest.

As for why an open-ended spanner...I figured it to be because of my racing career AND the fact that I carried a miniature version of such a spanner, given to me by my automobile mechanic father, for good luck. Once I had that thought, I couldn't help but tease Marty a little, and asked him to make a magnifying glass appear. I don't think he appreciated that...based on the look he gave me. But once Marty got over his jealousy of my being slightly ahead of him in ghosting, he asked to see the spanner, if I could make it appear again. And alas, I could not. *sighs* I swear, that Bugsy character and what he could do is going to be the end of me and/or Marty...

Once we got to Nottingham, Marty and I immediately decided that we wanted to see Nottingham Castle. But before we popped on over there, an interesting circular-shaped house in the hills caught our 'eyes', and being quite curious, we took an impromptu 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous' (though, we could not tell if the place was property of any celebrity blokes) tour of the mansion. It was there that Marty finally mastered an unusual ghostly method...telepathic phototaking, the ability that enabled me to get a picture of my neighbour and friend to use as an icon with this journal. We were highly lucky to have a wireless Internet tower less than a mile away, and with some concentration, Marty managed to take two pictures of yours truly 'sitting' upon a couple of pieces of furniture in the house...one of those photos being the icon accompanying this post. And as you can see, Marty is a step ahead of me in that his pictures are in color while I cannot seem to get out of doing black and white.

Anyway, when we got done there, it was instantly off to Nottingham Castle Marty and I were. And actually, Nottingham Castle is not really a castle, but instead a former mansion, now museum. That did not stop Marty and I from exploring...which went well at first. But, as it became nighttime outside, we started to learn that we were not exactly welcomed company. While Marty and I were reading some plaques about the history of the building, its site, and the city, we heard the rattle of chains behind us. And turned 'round to see that at our backs, now fronts, stood a rather rugged looking man in a white suit of armor and holding a spiked ball and chain mace, the rattle coming from his scrunching the chain like a Slinky toy in his hands. The bloke made some comment, as best as Marty and I could determine from the medieval accent, about it being bad enough that there were human tourists coming in and out of the place every day. And whether the comment was one of annoyance or astonishment at our presence, Marty and I were not going to stick around to find out...and we immediately popped out of the 'castle'.

After spending a little time on a park bench discussing what a startling experience that was (along with speculation of how long the ghost had been around and a shame that he was so hostile for he would have made for some interesting questions and answers about the history of the castle), Marty and I's senses started to perk up a little...there was a seance getting ready to happen! And it was taking place in the very park we happened to be in at the moment. Suddenly, we picked up on a hint of Frankencense and Myrrh incenses, and breezed our way to a grove of trees where the incense became more intense. And we found the seance...consisting of five teenagers, four boys and a girl, dressed up like Robin Hood, his Merry Men (including Friar Tuck), and Maid Marian, respectively. They had a Ouigi board with them, and were chanting out all sorts of gibberish about 'contacting the spirits of Old Nottingham'... 

Thankfully, the incense was not too strong, for Marty and I were aware of what was going on enough to take advantage of something that was just too rich to pass up. Marty chose to be Robin and I Marian, and we each took turns on the Ouigi. It was great fun, with the kids dressed like Robin and Marian really getting into talking to their favorite literary characters. And knowing how crude teens tend to be these days, Marty and I were very impressed with how polite "The Robin Hood Society" was in asking their questions...even though they did make the odd uttering here and there. My favorite being "Maid Marian" getting a little upset at the fact that since they were talking to the "real Maid Marian", she was not the reincarnation of the character. But despite that, Marty and I decided to take it easy with the kids afterall...

About an hour into our fun, Marty felt a tap on his shoulder, turned and let out a yelp, signaling me to look up from the seance...a few inches away from us was a bloke who looked to have stepped out of a Renaissance fair. He was dressed in solid white medieval-styled fancy clothes, sported a goatee, and held a white sword in his hand. Just like who we had encountered at Nottingham Castle, he also spoke in a medieval accent, and said something about having finally found Robin Hood and that Marty and I were wearing clever disguises. Then, much to my fears, the man thrusted his sword towards a frightened Marty's throat...

...and before I knew it, I rapidly breezed towards the swordsman, and almost unawaringly, conked him on the head with the same open-ended spanner I had conjured earlier on top of the tour bus. While Marty's assaulter reeled back, Marty and I quickly popped out of that scene to safety...a hill overlooking Nottingham. But after our incident with who had to be the legendary Sheriff of Nottingham (making not only Marty thank me for saving him from whatever sort of 'injury' he may or may not have sustained, but also both of us wonder about just how fictional those Robin Hood stories are...), we decided that we wanted to spend the rest of our holiday in a place with considerably less ghosts, at least as far as we know...and materialized back in Coventry.

And after getting our fill of Coventry, Marty and I are back here at our graves...still recovering from our more than interesting encounters. As much as we enjoy learning about the history of our country, Marty and I will certainly take the lesson we learned in Nottingham to heart: Never stay past sunset in most, if not all historic locations...and not to mention to never, NEVER impersonate certain literary characters ever again.