I know, I know! It’s a Tuesday and she’s posting, what is the world coming to. But seriously, this couldn’t wait for my ‘every-Thursday-like-clockwork-Ms-Organised-2016’ routine! We’ve officially entered into bizarro-world!

The stuff from Monica arrived today. A couple of pictures of mum, some of me, and also some letters he sent her. A scarf that’s either mum or dad’s, a hippocampus charm on a chain (!) Interesting, but all pretty normal.

But then there is the book. It’s a journal dad wrote and at first I thought it was full of quotes, like he was taking notes, but the more I read of what’s in it the more I’m convinced this is something he himself was working on. But none of it makes any sense at all!

I’ve just skimmed through it really, it’s all over the place, though I could have missed something completely and it’s just some sort of stream of consciousness first draft of a book he was writing.

Something called The Monarch Papers Volume One.
There goes my Tuesday…
DGx

UPDATE: Last evening, after a few hours (and a few relaxing glasses of wine) I was feeling less flummoxed by the whole thing and started noticing there were bits of a little story broken up on different pages. This book is so terribly dense and disconnected I have trouble finding pages I’ve just read, (though that might be the wine) but I managed to jot it all down. Was dad writing some sort of parable? Not sure what he was trying to get at, but maybe this was just the first scribbling?

• Fox was hungry, and took a fancy to one of Mrs Carey’s chickens. The largest in the flock in fact. But this chicken, being bigger than the rest, was stronger, faster and smarter than the others. To save her sistren, she decided to lead the fox on a merry dance away from home.
• By now the fox had circled round the Knight and was on her trail once more. He angrily skulked past the pool and seeing the signpost took the road toward a certain land.
• Poor fox, however, exhausted from running all day and night and day again, had little energy for the swim and soon got into trouble and drowned. When chicken reached dry land, she shook the water from her feathers and sighed.
• The fox ran after as fast as he could and nearly caught her at the bridge. But the chicken flapped and was able to stay out of the reach of his jaws to land at the feet of a brave knight on horseback. The knight held the fox at bay with his lance, allowing the chicken to flee eastward far past the forest, past the reflection, to rest at a palace. Here the King gave her shelter and soothed her tired spirit with laughter and song.
• She ran far south, maybe twenty thousand thoughts from home, just fast enough to keep the fox on her trail. She led him to the field of wings, arms and hooves where she thought she might lose her pursuer. She was right, the fox was confused by the flurry of hooves, and almost missed the chicken heading to the lighthouse nearby.
• Chicken would have to swim to safety. But all she could see was water, she could see no land to rest on. Then she noticed the man on the sands who looked out and revealed where the nearest point of land would be.
• As he approached the palace he heard the sound of merriment and clucking and realized the chicken was inside. Fortunately one of the fiddlers in the court saw the fox sneaking up on his prey and struck up a dreadful noise, alerting everyone to the intruder.
• Chicken could not stay with the pixies, she knew. The fox was too close and would find her soon enough. So she came up with a plan. She told the pixies to say she was heading north to the trolls. Instead she turned east remotely, and after many thoughts found a nest to rest in.
• The fox was lost and roamed the roads for the rest of the day and through the night. With dawn came a shift in fortune, and he found the chicken’s scent near the tower. Chicken was surprised, and a frantic chase began, through waterfalls and caves, o’er hills and woods, until reaching the shore.
• Hearing the noise, the chicken took to wing once more the chicken ran through a cornfield straight into the path of a snail, who suggested that she head Southward instead to take shelter with the pixies. But the fox, full of fire and hunger was near upon her, and was it not for an onlooker’s intervention she would have been caught long before she reached the wall.
• He chased her to the top of the lighthouse where the chicken had to jump to safety, catching the northeasterly wind, carried almost a thousand thoughts on her outstretched wings toward a distant bridge.
• Where had her tale ended?

  That’s it. I’m not even sure if it’s in the correct order (wine.) What was he working on? I do love a mystery…