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Month: March 2013

Message from a Hostel – They are witches, witches!

Archbishop Cranmer stood up and approached the Manager and Nora.  “Ladies you will now undergo the broom test to establish once and for all whether you are witches or not.”  My fellow clergymen brace yourselves.  Hold onto your hats.  Lock the doors and protect the windows. Remember once witches are airborne they can cause enormous damage. My good ladies, I command you now to mount your brooms.” Nora grabbed a broom, threw her leg over it and ran around the court room shouting “Ye Haw, Ye Haw.” As if she was riding a  toy horse. “Giddy up there pony.” “Stand back,” shouted the Archbishop.  “This witch will be in the air in seconds.” Nora was racing around the court hooting and howlin’ In the meantime the Manager had taken hold of her broom and moved over to where the Higulator was sitting on a table.  The Manager gave the digital box a slap and the lights lit up.  They started to flash on an off. She quickly shout to Nora, “wind your neck back in Nora and get over here.” Nora came running over towards the Manager.  “Grab a hold of the Higulator Nora.” The Manager set the start button and within seconds there was a flash.  Nora and the Manager were gone. There was astonishment in the court room.  “They were witches, witches withes,” they all shouted. Suddenly the Manager and Nora were back in the court room. “And now for our next trick,” said Nora. “Does anyone have a bunny rabbit? “ The Higulator had malfunctioned from the slap the Manager had given it.  It kept resetting itself back and forward in time. The Manager was pressing all the buttons on the Higulator frantically.  Again Nora and the Manager disappeared. To be continued





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Message from a Hostel – The Broom Test

“Thank you Archbishop Cranmer.  My ladies please tell us about this land you say you have travelled from?” shouted one of the churchmen from the side of the court. Then they all started to shout out questions. “Yes, how do you know such things of our King?” “So you say you are not witches, yet how do you speak of things that we in this world would not know?” “For feck sake, I suppose they will want the lottery numbers next,” muttered Nora. The Manager stepped forward, “learned men, your questions are such that we must take time and consider our responses. For you are truly learned men.” “Yes,” Nora added.  “We would like the option to phone a friend or ask the audience.” “What is this talk of strange words of ‘phone a friend’?” inquired one of the members of the court. Nora was about to try and explain, when the Manager responded.  “Gentlemen of this great court of knowledge and justice, you question us both to find one answer. Are we witches or are we not?. Let us not beat around the bush here. How do we ladies think we can fool such learned men?  I suggest a test.  We know that witches use brooms to fly.  So if we are witches, then we should be able to fly on brooms?” stated the Manager. The learned men gathered in the court. They looked at each other nodding in agreement and muttering to each other.  Yes this lady is correct. “Let’s to the broom test,” they all agreed. The Manager winked at Nora.  Nora turned to the Manager and said.  “Holy feck, do these clowns want us to start riding brooms around this court room like Harry Potter?” “It is simple Nora when they see we can’t ride a broom they will believe we are not witches and set us free.” “What the feck happens if my broom takes off?” asked Nora.  “I think I would be better off with the question and answer session.” Nora shouts out, “Listen lads the Manager here, I mean Lady Catherine, has suggested the broom test, but I feel you have already made up your minds, that we are witches.  So what would convince you that we are not witches?” “The witches broom test,” they all shouted in unison. The servants of the court brought in two large brooms and lay them before Nora and the Manager. The members of the court were getting very excited and they started to shout out “ride the broom, ride the broom” Nora and the Manger looked at each other “Have I missed something?” asked the Manager. “Sure,” replied Nora.  “Where the feck do you think broom dancing started?” To be continued
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Message from a Hostel – Questions from the Floor

“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, I’m stuck in the middle with you Nora,” sang the Manager. The Archbishop rose to his feet. “Gentlemen, these two ladies I claim to be witches, with magical powers beyond what we have ever seen to date.  Have no fear we are men of the church and their powers are of no use against us. Lady Catherine of Ontario has pledged to disclose to me who they are and why they have come to the Kingdom of King Henry VIII.  On hearing their stories it will be my learned friends that will determine their faith. Burned as witches, their evil powers cast to ashes or set free.” “Sounds like they are planning a BBQ for the lads.  I think we might be fecked,” said Nora. “Your eminence, may I start to explain to you who we are and the precious land we have travelled from, only to be mistaken for witches.  I, lady Catherine of Ontario and my friend lady Nora of Monaghan have travelled for over one year and eighty days. Travelling across lands and oceans and dealing with pirates and vagabonds, who stole our gold and most of our gifts, leaving us for dead.  Dressed only like peasants you found us resting at some old shed.  This contraception you see before you is a gift from our great Doc, Lord Higgins of Navan. We travelled here to bring good news, to your King Henry VIII.  We have heard that your King is in grave mourning within his heart, and this day he has no more love for his wife.  You, your eminence and good learned men present in this court, seem to understand nothing of the ladies of your lands.  We have studied the love of thy self, counselling in marriage and the ways of the female that will support bringing about new thinking for your Queen Catherine of Aragon.  This in turn will only please the King and put you Archbishop in great favour with his majesty.” “Nice one Manager. Did you ever thing of taking up acting?” asked Nora.  Nora then joined in the explanation “Yes, we have studied feminism. We have burnt our bras’. Lady Catherine is right, once we have an old natter with the Queen, you Mr. Archbishop Cranmer will be the dog’s Bollox with the King Henry VIII. I think we have them on our side Manager” “How do you know of our king’s troubles and his unhappiness in marriage?” asked the Archbishop. “Well we know he is fed up with the Queen of Aragon or should I call her the ‘Queen of she’s gone’.  We know the King is mad to get it on with some lady-in waiting, ‘called Anne what’s her face’. Oh! Yes Boleyn that’s her name, ” replied Nora. “What are these strange words of ‘get it on’ with reference out great King,” asked the Archbishop. “Your eminence, what Lady Nora is saying is that we as women understand such things.  That the King may wish to bed another in the future.  Who in time will provide him with an heir to rule in his kingdom,” replied the Manager. “You seem a much learned Lady,” replied the Archbishop. There is wisdom in your words. How do we know these issues of our King and that you are true in what you say. Not a witch that could cast a spell over our King?” “I know you are aware of the King’s dilemma and his trouble with Rome, your Archbishop. But if you allow both Lady Nora and I, we feel we can bring sense to this matter and cast you in much more favourable light with your King.” This needs more investigation. I will open the discussion to the floor for questions from my good men of the holy church,” replied the Archbishop. “Here we go a bunch of feckin’ men dressed in skirts with pointy hats, going to ask us questions,” said Nora.  “Let’s blind them with science and baffle them with bullshit for the craic.” To be continued



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Message from a Hostel – The Circus is in town

The Manager and Nora had been washed, massaged and oiled.  They had being given several ladies dresses to try on.  They were fed and watered for the night.  They had downed a bottle of the Archbishops best wine and had a good night’s rest. The following morning after breakfast and have been ordered to stay in the room, until the Archbishop summoned them, Nora asked the Manager, “what are you going to tell the Archbishop about the time travelling?” “We’ll not mention that at first, I think. He strongly believes that we are witches.  We’ll have to make sure that he understands that we are not witches, for we are in danger of being burned at the stake.  We will have to convince him that we are from a different land far away.” “Like the land of far, far away in Shrek?” replied Nora “Nora, I might skip the Shrek part and just mention it’s  across the ocean,” said the Manager. “Well you seem to have the Archbishop on your side Lady Catherine,” laughed Nora.  “ I think he might try and burn me as a witch.” “Let me do most of the talking Nora.  Last night just before I went to sleep after the few glasses of wine I wrote down a few notes.  It’s hard using a nib pen and ink again.” The door of the room sung open and in came two soldiers.  “Right, you two get yourselves ready, we are taking you over to the Archbishops main court room,” shouted one of the soldiers.  Nora and the manager were then taken out of the room to the court yard.  There was a horse and carriage waiting.  They were both told to get into the carriage. As they were travelling along the road they were obstructed by a peasant farmer herding sheep.  The soldiers were trying to clear the road but all they were doing was making things worse with the sheep running all over the place.  Nora jumped out of the carriage and started driving the sheep out of the way.  She waved her arms wildly and shouted at the peasant and soldiers to cover the gaps and keep the sheep heading in the one direction. “Mind the feckin gaps, mind the gaps,” Nora shouted.  Within a few minutes Nora had the road cleared and they were on their way again.  “Learnt to drive sheep from when I was knee high,” explained Nora. Those feckin’ soldiers couldn’t drive nails into a bog bank.” The Manager and Nora arrived at the place where the Archbishop was holding his court.  They were escorted into the centre of a large court room.  On a table was the Higulator. To each side of the room sat six men, all dressed like bishops, waiting as if they were getting a call from ‘old red socks’ in Rome. “Fellow clergy, these are the very two ladies that I have spoken about,” said Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. “Well would you take at look at this,” said Nora.  “The feckin’ circus has come to town. Look at all these clowns.” To be continued
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Message from a Hostel – Ladies-in-waiting.

The Manger and Nora were escorted out of the cell into the main manor.  The large room over looked a lake and there beyond in the distance stood Windsor Castle.  Within a few minutes two young ladies-in-waiting fearfully entered the room, knowing of the rumours travelling around the great manor of the witches that were captured. Their voices quivering “my ladies we are here to assist you in dressing,” they said.  They were immediately followed by several other lady servants with arms full of garments.  Carrying pitchers of hot water and followed by two man servants with two large floor bathing baths. “Well Manager or should I say Lady Catherine, this is the feckin business. Servants, ladies-in-waiting, two handsome men and I’m going to get a good old back scrub,” said Nora with excitement. “This looks better than the Sparking Hills Resort,” replied the Manager. “Oh feck, I don’t have any of my oils,” said Nora. “Oils my lady,” responded one of the ladies-in waiting.  She summoned a young girl over carrying a tray of rose petals and several small jars of essential oils.  “ I wonder do they have a distributor here at the castle?” asked Nora. Meanwhile back in 2013 the Doc was pulling his hair out trying to find the Manager and Nora’s location and time zone.  Now that the Doc’s shed was gone, he had pieces of equipment lying all over the house.  When Alistair arrived he said, “Doc, the Manager won’t be pleased with the state of this place.” “Al, my man I don’t think she will give two flying fecks, as long as I get her back here. “Maybe Doc they’re having the time of their lives. Seeing Doc’s worried face he added, “they will appear back here with the travelling shed anytime now.” “I know my Manager Al, and they would have being back here in an instant once the buttons were pushed.  The Manager would of reset the Higulator and come straight back.” “You seem very sure Doc?” “Yes Al.  It’s the first week of the month and the Manager gets all fired up about the business operations on the first week of every month.  She has not missed this week since I have known her. There is something up Al, I’m sure of it.  I feel in me waters.” “Do you have any idea where they might be Doc?,” asked Alistair. “Not a feckin’ clue Al, but I’m working on it.  Once I have this spare Higulator working and building this tracking system, I should be able to locate the Higulator from the shed to within one year and a 20 miles radius of where it is,” said Doc. “You’re a genius Doc.” “Up here for thinking, down there for dancing the Zumba,” laughed Doc as he starting throwing a few fancy dance shapes across the kitchen floor. To be continued


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Message from a Hostel – The Castle of Blayney

“Now my two strange witches. I need to extract some information from you, before I decide what to do with you both.” “There he goes again calling us two bitches. Who does he think he is?  said Nora. “Hey listen here you big feckin eejit. Who do you think you are?  Some drug dealer from New York City with your two bitches comment.  I’ll have you know we are two respectful ladies. Well the Manager is anyway.” “New York City, what city is it that you refer to in this strange tongue,” replied the Archbishop. “What is this witch’s talk or magic you cite?”  You are certainly witches and you are not dressed like ladies, but peasant men in you pantaloons.” “Your eminence,”  requested the Manager as she made courtesy. “May I address you?”  Let me explain who we are and where we are from, but before I do that, may I request we are able to change from these strange clothes as you may see them.  I would be happy to discuss and provide you with whatever information you wish, without having to resort to any extraction methods.” “You seem a more understanding witch than this other one”, replied Archbishop Cranmer.  “How do they address you within your circle of witches?” “I am called Catherine of Ontario and this is my friend Nora of Monaghan, your eminence.” “Well turn me inside out and grow tomatoes from my arse, aren’t you the new lady in court,” Nora said under her breath to the Manager.  “Yes, Archbishop, as Catherine the other one says,  I’m Nora of Monaghan of the Castle of Blayney.”  Manager, I think I’m getting your drift with this eejit. “I admire your confidence Lady Catherine of Ontario. A place I have never heard of. I am not sure of this witchcraft or spell you are casting. As I’m a man of the Church, I have nothing to fear. I am happy to oblige with your requests,” replied the Archbishop. The Archbishop ordered a soldier to summon two ladies-in-waiting and take the Manger and Nora to a room in the back of his manor.  When I return in the morrow, I expect you will honour your commitment Lady Catherine as you so call yourself. As the Archbishop was leaving the cell he said, “I have although heard of that peasant land called Monaghan on the Isle of Ireland.  Not a place one would even invite their enemies to visit.” Nora was about to lunge straight for the Archbishop but was grabbed by the Manager. “Hold back Nora, and put your fighting cock head away. You’ll have plenty of time to respond to remarks like that.  We are lucky the Doc was not here.  He would of flattened the Archbishop, if he had said anything about the Lord Doc of Meath,” laughed the Manager. To be continued

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Message from a Hostel – Yes, they were beheaded my King

Thomas Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, being an educated man, knew that there was more to these two witches, whom he had encountered at the shed.  He was also going to get to the bottom of that strange piece of machinery(the Higulator), which he had ordered to be removed. Archbishop Cranmer was fascinated with witchcraft and the possibilities of understanding their secret magic.  He had reason to be fearful of the female powers to corrupt King Henry VIII and his Kingdom.   The Archbishop knew by their language and manner he was not dealing with witches like he had come across before. He would tread carefully with this pair. When he arrived back at Windsor Castle, he gave orders for the soldiers to have both the Manager and Nora taken to his residency. Locked in one of his special cells on their own. Archbishop Thomas Cranmer went on to visit the King. He would conduct further integration into their magic on his return. “Your Majesty I hope you have recovered from your fall?” asked Archbishop Cranmer. “Yes Archbishop.  I have fallen many times from my horse, I am use to such falls,” replied King Henry VIII. “Mostly on your head.” muttered Thomas Cranmer under his breath. “Well that’s good, my King you are well. I am sure Queen Catherine will be glad to know you are uninjured. “Speaking of Queen Catherine, any news back from old red socks in Rome,” asked Henry VIII. “Nay your Majesty, but I am confident we will hear good news.” “Thomas, you better get the right answers out of Rome, because Wolsey couldn’t, shouted Henry VIII. I must go now and see about the two females that caused your fall my Lord. May I take my leave,” asked Archbishop Cranmer. “Females, Archbishop.  I thought they were two peasant men.” “Well my king you are quite right.  At first we thought they were just peasant men. On further investigation they identified themselves as ladies. One of them shouting something about headlights. Whatever that mean Your Majesty, I am still very unclear,” Archbishop Cranmer informed the King. “Thrown from my horse by two women, I shall be the laughing stock of all France if they ever hear such a story.  You beheaded them both, on the spot they stood for their actions?” demanded Henry VIII. Not wanting to offend the king and put himself in bad favour like Wolsey before him. Archbishop Cranmer replied. “Yes  they were beheaded my King, that is what I ordered. I will go and ensure their bodies were thrown to the crows your Majesty.” On given leave from the Kings presence, Archbishop Cranmer quickly returned to his private residence. In the meantime, both Nora and the Manager were locked in a cell. “Well Nora, I feel we might be, as the Queen of feckin everything would say, ‘Kerf**ka.  The Doc’s shed burned to the ground. The Higulator was taken away by soldiers,” said the Manger. “It could be worse,” replied Nora. “Worse Nora, how worse could it get?” “It would be feckin snowing back in 2013 and poor old Alistair would be shovelling snow on his own,” laughed Nora. “Well I suppose all we can do is laugh Nora.” Suddenly, the door swung open and Archbishop Cranmer entered the room accompanied by two soldiers. To be continued
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