The Great Perfume Hunt Of '09

You've heard of The Secret Seven. You've heard of The Famous Five.

Pah. Amateurs.

When you're on the scent of, well, The Scent, you need the best of the best. You need The Thaumaturgical Three. (Er, you may also need a dictionary, if you're not a Terry Pratchett fan).


Reunited for what would prove to be their most challenging case yet, Alien Wally, Mags, and Shirley-Mom vowed to utilise all their investigative power to track down the elusive Scent from its hiding place somewhere in the UK.

Here are some highlights from the case files:

The Three started out in Windsor, posing as tourists, hoping that the castle would hold some clues to The Scent's location. The presence of soldiers suggested the guarding of some very important national treasures. But, it was to prove a herring as red as the soldiers' fancy outfits.


Foiled, The Three decided to search for the Scent in London.

First stop: Trafalgar Square. Nada but for Nelson.


Mags searched vainly in the National Gallery for clues, though as usual got hopelessly distracted by the Turners.

At first sight, Harrods, with it's gleaming perfume bottles, seemed a likely spot for The Scent to hide. But 'twas not to be.


And with Big Ben not telling them anything besides the time, The Three gave up for the day.


The following morning, they tried to draw on the wisdom of the animal kingdom, but were laughed out of the field.


With the trail of The Scent growing cold in The SOUTH, The Three decided to try their luck further north. But, before they could leave, Shirley-Mom needed to update her skillz to blend in seamlessly with the locals.


The trip north encompassed a quick visit to York, where they learned one important fact.


And they arrived in Scotland to a very warm (er, cold?) welcome.


Where better to start in The Land Of The Water Of Life than with the life-giving elixir itself. But, despite its sublime aromas, no clues as to the location of The Scent were revealed.


Mags and Shirley-Mom braved the winds on the Forth Bridge to see if The Scent was trying to make a break for it on the river.


They asked the locals.


They tried Edinburgh Castle. They watched the cannon closely, saw some ghosts in the cafeteria, checked out the Crown Jewels and even descended into the Castle's deep dark depths to see what the prisoners had left behind. But to no avail. The Scent was more deeply hidden than that.


Alien Wally and Mags tried to persuade Shirley-Mom to swim out into the North Sea to Bass Rock to search for The Scent there. But, this is as far as she got. *Cough* Wuss *cough* (to which the only acceptable reply is *Cough* Hypocrites *cough*).


The East Lothian countryside seemed full of possible hiding places.


Eventually, they turned their sights further north.


Like Nessie, The Scent was nowhere to be seen.


Perhaps too far north? How about slightly further south? They tried the Lammermuir Hills, where Alien Wally thought he spotted something fishy, and the gargoyles were stony-faced.


Strange stone carvings led The Three to realise they hadn't yet tried the obvious place – the home of the Holy Grail. But, despite promises of Truth, even Rosslyn Chapel wasn't telling any of its secrets.


In desperation, they eventually thought to ask Madam, who had spent most of the adventure sleeping. “Duh,” she said, yawning in obvious annoyance at being disturbed, “St James, the Patron Saint of Scent.” And she was right. Case closed.

That’s What It’s All About

Ya know, sometimes these things happen. There you are, doing the hokey pokey, and you’ve managed to put your left arm in and your left arm out. You’ve managed to shake it all about. And then… it’s time to put your tongue in, which is the same thing as putting your tongue out, and then it all starts to get a bit confusing – is your tongue in when it’s out, or out when it’s in?


And then your brain freezes and you totally forget what you were doing in the first place and you wonder why the paparazzi are taking pictures of you. Must be because you’re so cute.

A Typical Day At The Office

09:30... Rub head repeatedly against corner of monitor while purring loudly. Try to get Mags to stare into my eyes rather than the computer screen. Paaayy meeee atttennntionnnnn! Want second breakfast!


11:00... Cat onnahead onnamat onnadesk innaoffice. Is winter. Is cold.


14:00... Pour heaps of scorn on impertinent birdies in tree outside office window.


14:05... Pour heaps of scorn on Mags for not doing something about the impertinent birdies.


15:00... Have forgiven Mags. Now is cuddletime on Mags' lap. Warm here. Big purr.

.

Beam Me Up, Scotty.

Mags has always known that the aliens were coming to get her. She just didn’t know that they were so close. She should have twigged, of course…. Alien Wally. Alien. Wally. So obvious, in retrospect. Hindsight is always 20/20. But then, Mags’ eyesight is so bad that without contact lenses she can’t see her hand in front of her face. She didn’t stand a chance. This is obviously how Alien Wally managed to sneak in a funny fluffy thing from his home planet to keep an eye on Mags during the day when he’s out at work.

The Effects of GCH* on the MacNoodle Brain

[*GCH = Gas Central Heating]

This is the MacNoodle brain without GCH:


This is the MacNoodle brain on GCH:

In Which Everyone Needs A Holiday To Recover From The Holidays

They nearly got themselves arrested a mere six hours after arriving in London (tip: do not take pictures of “sensitive” buildings in the nation’s capital or official Stop and Search procedures will be carried out upon your person). They nearly got lost in Edinburgh trying to find the Wally Abode (tip: Alien Wally and Mags do not live in Leith. Near to Leith, in the sense that Edinburgh is a small city and many places are near to other places. But they do not live in Leith itself, per se). But Maw and Paw Wally (aka The GrandHumans to the MacNoodle) eventually arrived for The Holidays.

A Meepy Catmas To Everyone!

What a day! The MacNoodle tried to eat the Christmas tree. The pink blobs ate more than an elegant sufficiency of vegetarian victuals (a decision having been made to forego the (un)usual practice of celebrating the season of love and peace by chopping off a turkey’s head). Many drams were consumed, single malts as well as some blended (Jingle) Bells. There was bubbly and there was non-bubbly. Crackers were cracked, hats were hatted, presents were presented. The Christmas pudding was set on fire (uh, deliberately, that is). The Christmas pudding was consumed (uh, after the fire was out, that is). Eventually, copious amounts of coffee were drunk. Wait, that’s not quite right – it was the pink blobs who were drunk… the coffee would like you to know that it was completely sober and maintained decorum throughout. What a day!

The Sozzling
If Alien Wally and Mags hadn’t been right there and heard it with their own two ears (or should that be four ears if there are two of them?), they would never have believed it. But it happened. She said it, she really did. It went something like this…:

Paw Wally (to the room in general): “Maybe we should catch a taxi sometime, see what it’s like.”
Maw Wally (with completely serious demeanour): “Yes, that’s a good idea. Maybe we should go and get sozzled on Saturday night so that we have to take a taxi home.”

Ah, the UK’s binge-drinking culture is insidious it seems, dragging down poor innocent tourists, none of whom are more innocent than Maw Wally. At least, she was innocent before the sozzling incident. Because it happened. They did it, they really did. It went something like this:

Pre-pre-prandials: The Wally Abode, near Leith.
Pre-prandials: The Auld Hundred Pub, Rose Street.
Dinner and prandials: The Auld Hundred Pub, Rose Street.
Post-prandials: Dirty Dicks Pub, Rose Street.
Post-post-prandials: The Wally Abode, still near Leith.

Yip, Maw Wally did a pub crawl of sorts up Rose Street. Although she is to be commended that she did not actually ever have to crawl at any point in the evening. Not even into the taxi. Because, yes, there was one at the end of the evening. That was the whole point of the sozzling, after all.

Arthur’s Seat
Lest ye all think that the Wallys did nothing but empty bottles for recycling purposes these holidays, they would like you to know that they did other activities inbetween, such as walking up Arthur’s Seat.

Then they walked back down the other side. Where Duddingston’s Sheep Heid Inn, the oldest pub in Scotland (since 1360), provides a handy stop for weary walkers…. Oh dear, Mags can see where this is going. Again.


Hogmanay
Despite being cancelled twice in the last four years as a result of inclement weather (read: gale force winds and horizontal rain), Edinburgh’s Hogmanay remains a popular event on the city’s social calendar. Although the MacNoodle elected to stay at home for Hogmanay, the rest of the Wallys ensured that they had tickets for this esteemed event. Having lived in Cape Town for many years, however, Alien Wally and Mags have learned a thing or two about fashionable lateness, and so planned a pre-party party at Hamiltons, one of their favourite restaurants.

Hamiltons lived up to its excellent reputation, and provided a fantastic start to the evening. So fantastic that by the time the meal was over, the Wallys were a tad reluctant to leave. But leave they did, as they had decided to experience the street party on Princes Street at least once in their lives.

In the streets outside, there was a very definite directional trend. All roads lead to Princes Street, it seems. The Wallys joined the throngs, and made it into the party just before “doors” were closed at 11pm. They pushed their way through the 100 000 strong crowd to get into Princes Street itself, but then beat a hasty retreat as the crush of the crowds became too much.

They managed to find a wee spot in Frederick Street with a good clear view of the castle, the launching pad of the fireworks which were to be let off at the bells. And what fireworks these were! According to the Scotsman newspaper, there were £1.3 million worth of fireworks set off at midnight. What do £1.3 million worth of fireworks look like? Big, bold, and beautiful, for one. Very smoky, for another…. After a while, the castle disappeared behind the smoke cloud generated from said fireworks, and the sky was as bright as day.

Everyone was entranced, heads angled upwards, taking in the display. Once it had finished, people started looking around with dazed and glazed looks on their faces until they figured out why they had just witnessed such a spectacular thing. Oh yes, New Year! And then the hugs and kisses and greetings started rolling through the crowds as everyone welcomed in 2008.

The Wallys then began the trek homewards, fully expecting to have to walk all the way (about 40 minutes from city centre to the Wally Abode by foot) on an evening of few taxis and even fewer buses. But then, lo, a taxi did appear. And, lo again, Alien Wally made a magical hand gesture and it stopped. Feeling very privileged (even though one has to pay for this privilege, of course), the Wallys were whisked quickly and efficiently back to the Wally Abode, where they continued the party with the MacNoodle until the wee hours of the morning. Needless to say, they woke up very late the next later that same morning.