(Did anyone notice that Catan reference in the second Kinfolk comic? No? Ah well, doesn’t matter, just my ’tism being the ’tism.) Okay anyway, I think I may have found Eden and I thought it important to report back to the internet. In the actual real world, I’m currently sitting on a creaking leather chair in a pub that’s older than capitalism (the pub, not the chair), listening to the crackle of a huuuuge log fire and the occasional creak of ancient floorboards as one or two people move about the otherwise empty place. Bliss.
Hold on … the mantlepiece of this fire is taller than I am!! Crazy. I mean I’m not particularly tall, but still. I could walk bodily into the fireplace without stooping. [Edit: Oop, no I can’t. Nearly, though.] This is one of the things I love about Merrie Olde Englande, you can’t beat the ancient crap lying about; this pub is about an hour’s walk from my home and I’ve never tried to walk to this particular one before, but here we are. Oak barrels and dark smugglers booths and candles and … it’s like a scene from the Witcher, except real and actual and basically untouched for hundreds of years. I love places like this. Zero gambling machines, zero LED lights, zero wifi, zero music, and there isn’t even a Carling label or a bag of nuts to be seen. Just in-house brewery and Camra signs. Perfect.
In fact the only thing that suggests this is not Eden, is that … I just bought a pint of organic ale and the guy said “That’s £7.40 please”.
And I said pardon me.
As we know, in the 1600s, £7.40 would’ve bought you a house, a pig, a vast barrel of [obviously organic] ale and a clutch of sluts for a month of big-titted debauchery.
Fucking capitalism. This fucking pint had better be fucking good.
Seven pounds forty.
I frequently have to go to Westminster, and even that den of misery doesn’t take quite so many pisses.
It tastes alright.
Fuck.
Hold on, their non-organic beers are half the price and I’ve only just noticed.
Fuck.
…
Ah well, reminds me of a moment from one of my unreleased development comics (which are many). It’s a scifi but this guy gets marooned on a planet where the little green aliens are a touch behind in developmental terms, it’s a slightly Lord of the Rings scenario, just with green hobbits. Here’s the page in question:
… it wasn’t SEVEN pounds FORTY though, was it?! Anyway, maybe I should release all of my half-finished comics? I do wonder that – if I’m really not going to finish them (and some have been shelved for many years), I could probably just dump the scripts at the end of them as text-only, and release them into the wild anyway? Hmm. No rush. I might get to them in the fullness. They’ll see the light in some form, one day.
(you’d think there would be a point to this blog post. No.)
