The Alternative Rainbow Songbook

The Alternative Rainbow Songbook

Why An Alternative Rainbow Songbook?

'God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh' (Voltaire) 'The earth laughs in flowers' (Emerson) When I first came to the Rainbow I felt like an outsider. I didn't have dreadlocks, I didn't know the words to the bhajans, I only vaguely considered myself a hippy and, although I could sense the joy and love that was pouring through the atmosphere, I felt locked out.

I just didn't know how to connect to people who believed that they had been King Arthur in a previous lifetime or that when flies buzzed around us they were secretly repairing the holes in our auras. I saw the Rainbow like one big hippy refugee camp and didn't come again for years.

When I eventually returned my heart was a bit more open and the Rainbow seemed to me like a 24 hour comedy show. Instead of judging and withdrawing from what I saw, I channeled my perspectives into these songs and had a lot of fun laughing at the Emperor's New Clothes.

I half-expected to have leftover polenta thrown at me for some of the verses I sang but instead people started giggling as the words struck a nerve. Others felt the same way as me but had kept their doubts to themselves and our laughter brought us closer together.

Even more rewarding was that I finally felt like I belonged to the Rainbow. It;s often said that 'every colour of the Rainbow is welcome' in the Gatherings and I felt I had last discovered mine. I could laugh at and with the Rainbow and still be part of it.

The occasional Rainbow Fundamentalist considered the gatherings to be too sacred for humour – one Austrian sister even burned a copy on the fire. But if the jokes didn't touch a nerve here or there they wouldn't be doing their job.

As one anthropologist wrote:

"Many native traditions held clowns and tricksters as essential to any contact with the sacred. People could not pray until they had laughed, because laughter opens and frees from rigid preconception. Humans had to have tricksters within the most sacred ceremonies for fear that they forget the sacred comes through upset, reversal, surprise. The trickster in most native traditions is essential to creation, to birth."

Spirituality ends the moment we start taking ourselves too seriously.

Tommy 2010 tom@tomthumb.org

A Few of the Trickier Chords

Please feel free to change, distort, interpret, rewrite and do anything else funky and creative with the songs in this book. Many of them are based on melodies of other songs which should make them easier to pick up but if you're still in doubt some of them can be heard on www.tomthumb.org

Song Index 1. Hippy Rehab – forget Prozac, just head to the nearest Rainbow for all the free hugs you could ever need.

2. Let's Go to Babylon – when the freaks are freaking you out and you need the urban antidote to crystal fever.

3. Mexican Medicine – a homage to the Peyote spirit, based on an old Madonna tune.

4. The Beneficio Song – there's no rent in a tipi...

5. Rainbow Loving – Grease meets the Rainbow love fest. Tell me more, tell me more...

6. You Can't Always Get What You Want – but if you try sometimes...

7. Rainbow Rock – would Elvis have come to a Rainbow?

8. Be a Colour in My Rainbow – our lives are lit by the light of those we love.

9. I Love All of Me – turning around the depressing old jazz song and making amigos of our egos.

10. Alternative Magic Hat Song – it's holy but it aint got no holes

11. Om Namah Shivaye, Life Goes Om – a Beatles rip-off on making a family within the Rainbow family.

12. There She Was in the Main Tipi - singing hari, hari, om 13. Come Together - I and I means you and me.

14. The Rainbow Family - they're friendly and they're freaky.

15. I Believe in Magic - it can happen to you, too.

16. Everyone's Happy Inside - they just don't know it yet.

17. It's Time to Play the Music - (Muppets theme song) 18. You've Got to Believe in Shiva - coz he's the only cool god.

19. William Blake Song – tribute to the 19

th

century mystical poet

20. Little Prince Song – in the voice of the little traveler himself.

And some spare pages for your Rainbow songs...

And a few stories, too: The Kissing Tribe, The Three Thieving Demons, The Emperor of America, The Tale of Tails, The Wishing Well and The Man Who Fell in Love With the Moon

The Alternative Rainbow Songbook

Hippy Rehab(ilitation)

A

E9

E13

When you’re feeling negative A E9 E13 And you’ve run out of reasons to live, A A7 D Dm When your heart is blocked and your feelings are locked, A E7 A Get down to some hippy rehab When your head is full of fears, And you're living neither now nor here, When you’re tearing out your hair and you’ve forgot how to share, Get down to some hippy rehab.

E7 A Oh, you’ll get bitten by bugs, You’ll get kisses and hugs, D9 E9 Walk everywhere barefeet and say Ommmmmm before you eat E7

A

Oh, you can grow your dreads, do your birth chart, D9

E9

Then go make your bed, out under the stars, So grab your guitar, And a bag full of marijuana, And go with the flow down to the rainbow And get some hippy rebab (that’s rehabilitation!), And get some hippy rehab.

Let's Go to Babylon Am The Rainbow is where it’s at, I don’t doubt that E7 But today I could do without, Am I’m sick of bhajans and shamans in trance E7 And all the freaks are freaking me out, G Am G Am Pots of brown rice and falling head lice E7 Am Dropping out and turning on, Am E7 Am Baby, let’s go jump in the van and go to Babylon, We could eat some meat, and watch some tv And drink beer in a bar, Then go to a club, dance to some dub And take drugs that are design-ar, I’ll act cool and I know that you’ll Dress up like an atomic bomb, Baby, go put your crystals away, we’re going to Babylon, We can meditate another day, Let’s go see how the city folks live, Turn on the mobile, send some email, Plug into the Matrix, I’m sick of bug bites and candle light and though the Rainbow is where we belong, Baby, let’s take a break for a day, and go to Babylon.

Mexican Medicine (To the tune of Madonna’s La Isla Bonita)

Dm Am Dm Last night I drank some San Pedro, F C Am The shaman made the tea, a holy ceremony, Dm Am C Dm All the way from Mexico, took me where I longed to go, C Gm Dm How I love that morning glow, te quiero San Pedro, Dm Am C Dm Mother Earth beneath our feet, and smoking holy leaves, C Gm Dm Magic in all that we see, a Mexican medicine,

A naked crowd in the sweat lodge, Holy herbs to purify, open the door before I die, Singing bhajans in the dark, songs to open the heart, And trying hard not to fart, oh San Pedo, The next day dying of heat, while everyone makes their speech, And all I can think is when do I eat, a Mexican medicine,

F C Am Oh, I want to feel like I did that night, F G Gm With the Great Spirit guiding us to the light, F C Am The magic that is in the cactus, F G Gm Dm Helps us love the life and the life to love us,

And we ate paste of peyote, Grandfather, oh abuelo, told us what we longed to know, Froze my ass off through the night, then by the morning light, We all got the feeling right, oh, Peyote!

4 spoons of cold, black guck, feeling strange in the gut, And trying hard not to throw up, a Mexican medicine Chorus Oh, last night we drank some San Pedro‌.

Beneficio Song (to the tune of the Cheers theme song) G D Living in the city can be quite shitty G D when all you want is some fresh air, G D Or maybe you’ve been on the road for too long G D And you want to rest somewhere, Bm E A There’s no rent in a tepee, C7 D7 in Beneficio, G F C Where everyone walks with bare feet, G F C And they say Om before they eat, Bm C You want to be where you can see, Bm C people going with the flow, Bm C You want to go where the good D7 G D G Ganja grows, When the reiki just aint working, Maybe you lost your touch, If you can’t remember your mantra And the ganja costs too much, Go where you can grow your own, In Beneficio, Where everyone loves to get high, And you can let your freak flags fly, You want to go where people know, The words to the bhajans, You want to go where nobody, Makes plans,

So if you want to make babies Or grow marijuana, Pregnancy and THC Are the valley’s karma, Up in the mountains of Spain, in Beneficio, Where everyone walks with bare feet, And they say Om before they eat, You want to be where you can see, People going with the flow, You want to go, where the good ganja Grows,

Rainbow Loving (To the tune of Summer Loving from Greece)

C F G F G (boys) Rainbow Loving, it's a love fest, C F G F G (girls) Sisters and Brothers, it's like incest, C F G A (boys) Met a girl with her own teepee, C F G A (girls) He had dreads down to his feet, C F G Am (both) Rainbow Romance, singing bhajans F G C and heart chakras rotating fast, C F G F G C (boys) Tell me more, tell me more, did you make her some massage?

C F G F G C (girls) Tell me more, tell me more, did he open his heart?

C F G F G (both) Hari om, hari om, hari om, hari hari, C F G A Hari om, hari om, hari ommmmmm (boys) She showed me how to control my mind, (girls) He told me my mayan sign, (boys) She said the answers were deep inside myself, (girls) Said he'd love me 'til 2012, (both) Rainbow Love, naked in the sun, surrounded by the family,

(girls) Tell me more, tell me more, did he have lice in his dreads? (boys) Tell me more, tell me more, did she have hair on her legs? (both) Hari om, hari om, hari om, hari hari, Hari om, hari om, hari ommmmmm

(boys) Things got steamy down by the sweat lodge, (girls) I said 'no sex' 'til he had a wash, (boys) She was a goddess, yeah she was in tune, (girls) My period came with the full moon, (both) Rainbow Sex, chakras connect and nowhere to buy condoms, (boys) Tell me more, tell me more, did she know some tantra? (girls) Tell me more, tell me more, did you make love under the stars? (both) Hari om, hari om, hari om, hari hari, Hari om, hari om, hari ommmmmm (Am and slow, sad) (boys) No attachment, I had to meditate, (girls) The I ching told me we had to separate, (boys) We parted with gifts of flowers. (girls) Our farewell hug lasted an hour, (both) Rainbow Love, better than drugs, F G C Our hearts one in the fa-m-i-ly, F G C This is Sacred,

You Can't Always Get What You Want (slow) C F Well, I went down to the food circle, C F Begging bowl in my hand, C F I saw they where serving polenta, C F I said oh no, not again, man,

C F But you can't always get what you want, C F No, you can't always get what you want, C F Say, you can't always get what you want, D But if you try sometimes, F You just might find, C F C You get what you need, yeah, you get what you need, (Faster)

I saw her today by the main teepee, She had flowers braided in her hair, She was practiced at the art of reiki, Well, I could tell by her aura, yeah, I said let's go down to the river, You know, we could get naked and swim, But along came this real cool fire dancer, and she went away to swim with him, Chorus

(slow again)

I went down to see the shaman, Said, oh shaman, make my wishes come true, He said, oh but it's all written in the stars, man, not much is really up to you, I said don't give me none of that bullshit, see, I create my reality, But the shaman he just started laughing, Lit his pipe and handed it to me, and he said, Chorus

Rainbow Rock

(to the tune of Jailhouse Rock)

F# G Come on, daddy, don't you be square, F# G If you want to be a hippy, better grow your hair, F# G Get a piercing or a tattoo, F# G G7 But it's what you got inside that makes you cool, C7 G G7 Let's rock, everybody let's rock, D7 C7 Whether you're a hippie or not, G Come dancing to the Rainbow Rock, Now I'm not a Hindu, you understand, But I got nothing against no bhajan, Singing mantras puts you into trance, but it's not what you want when you want to dance, Let's rock, everybody let's rock, Whether you're a Hindu or not, Come dancing to the Rainbow Rock, G G7 Yeah dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing to the Rainbow Rock, C7 G G7 Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing to the Rainbow Rock, D7 C7 G Dance until you drop, yes, dancing to that Rainbow Rock, Now if you believe in demons or angels with wings, well, hippies will believe just about anything, Leave your soap at home, oh my, oh gosh, In the Rainbow no one needs to wash, Let's rock, everybody let's rock, Whether you wash or not, come on and dance to the Rainbow Rock

Be a Colour In My Rainbow F Fmaj7 You could be my colour of blue, F Fmaj7 like the sea I dive into you, C C6 C C6 C C6 Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow, You could be my colour of red, like the blood rushing to my head, Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow, F F6 C My life is lit by the light of the ones that I love, C C6 C C6 C C6 do-do-do-doo, do-do-do-doo, do-doo-do-doo-do F F6 C My life is lit by the light of the ones that I love, C C6 C C6 C C6 do-do-do-doo, do-do-do-doo, do-doo-do-doo-do You could be my colour of brown, sentimental autumn leaves falling down, Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow, You could be my colour of pink, kiss all night 'til our lips synch, Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow, chorus

You could be my colour of green, making love in spring time fields, Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow, You could be my colour of yellow, sunlight making me soft and mellow, Be a colour, be a colour, be a colour in my rainbow,

All of Me

(upbeat jazz) G B7 All of me, I love all of me, Em E7 C Am Though I'm proof that no one is perfect, B7 Em E7 My teeth are yellow, I've got dandruff, Am D7 But when I look in the mirror, I look with love, G B7 Say, my ego, is my amigo, Em E7 C If I didn't love me how could I ever love you?

Cm Bm7 E7 I do my best to grow and progress Am D7 G and that's why I love all of me, All of you, I love all of you, Even the bits I'm not so crazy about, If I've got a problem with someone else, That's a problem I've got with myself, All of you, I love all of you, Because in your eyes I see my reflection, We're just two parts of the same heart, And that's why I love all of you, All of me, I love all of me, Though sometimes I'm hard to live with, I'm a nightmare first thing in the morning, I've got my demons, I give you fair warning,

All of you, I love all of you, Because in your eyes I see my reflection, We're just two parts of the same heart, That's why I love all of you.

Alternative Magic Hat Song (played fast with a quick change on the G to the A and a funky feel) E GA Magic people, E GA How about that?

E GA Put your magic money in the E GA magic hat, A7 The magic hat is holy A7 but it aint got no holes, B7 C7 B7 Puts magic food in your magic bowls, Magic moments, Magic meals, We all know how good the magic feels, The magic don't just grow on trees, The magic comes from you and me,

Om Namah Shivaya (Based on Oh blah di, oh blah dah)

E B7 Shanti met Maya by the main tipi, E Maya she was singing bhajans, A Shanti says to Maya I like the way you sing E B7 E And Maya says this as she takes him by the hand, E B7 Cm#7 Om namah shivaya, life goes Om, hey!

E B7 E Lalalalalalala, life goes Om, E B7 Cm#7 Om namah shivaya, life goes Om, hey!

E B7 E Lalalalalalala, life goes Om!

Shanti married Maya after magic hat, the family gathered around, the light of the rainbow in their eyes and everywhere you could hear the sound: chorus In a couple of years they build their own tipi, Do the festivals in a volkswagen van, and make their own rainbow family...

Shanti plays guitar for the magic hat, Maya lets the children lend a hand, All day long Shanti digs big shit pits and in the evening Maya still sings her bhajans,

Oh namah Shivaya, life goes Om, hey, lalalalalala, life goes Om, Oh namah Shivaya, life goes Om, hey, lalalalalala, life goes Om... and if you want some love, hahahaha, sing Om namah Shivaya, hey!

There She Was..

C F C There she was, sitting in the main tipi, C F C singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om, C F C Flowers in her hair and bells on her feet, C F C singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om, C G C G She looked good, she looked fine, C G C G She looked good, she looked fine C G C G7 And I nearly lost my mind,

C Am Oh, oh, ooooh, I knew I was falling in love, F G G7 Oh, oh, ooooh, I knew she was the one I'd been dreaming of!

Before I knew it she was sitting next to me, singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om, Singing softly and massaging my feet, singing, hari, hari, hari om, hari om, We went, to my tent, We went to my tent, She showed me what making love meant...

Oh, oh, ooooh, I knew we were falling in love, Oh, oh, ooooh, this is what we'd been dreaming of,

Now we're together almost every single day, singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om, We sing and we pray and we meditate, singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om, I'm her god, she's my goddess, I'm her god, she's my goddess, Every day in love is a day blessed, Oh, oh, ooooh, we are so in love, Oh, oh, ooooh, and we're living the life we've been dreaming of, singing hari, hari, hari om, hari om.

Come Together

(Yes, another Beatles rip off) Dm Check your email, get the map and directions, Grab your guitar, hitchhike 500 miles, A7 In the rainbow you're never alone, G7 Dm You know you've got there when you hear 'welcome home', Dm Hey little brother, we're of the same blood, yeah, Hey little sister, oh how I've missed ya, A7 I and I means you and me, G7 One thing I can tell you is you've got to be free, F G A Dm come together, right now, family,

Get water for the kitchen, get wood for the fire, better relax 'cos nothing's under control, go with the flow, no need to fear it, all is in the hands of the Great Spirit, Put the colour of the rainbow, all together, and you get one bright,shining light, The rainbow's a tribe, you can belong if you like, Babylon's nothing but a state of mind, So come together, right now, family, Yes, come together, right now, family

The Rainbow Family

(to the tune of The Addams Family) E A They're happy and they're hippy, B7 E Some are a little dippy, E A Sometimes it gets quite trippy B7 E with the Rainbow Family, They're friendly and they're freaky, They like to live in tipis, Even if a little leaky, The Rainbow Family, E Freaks, A Hippies, B7 E Love and Peace, So if you're on your own, Come and be welcome home, You'll never be alone with the Rainbow Family!

I Believe in Magic E (with a riff on E6) If you don't know where you life is going, See which way your river's flowing, F#7 If there's one thing I know it's this, B7 You've got to follow your bliss, E Wherever it goes, Cm#7 A You see, I believe in magic, Fm#7 B7 It can happen to you, Cm#7 A Though I don't understand it, Fm#7 B7 Fm#7 B7 It happens to be true, (it can happen to you) If you're looking for truth, You'll still be looking when you're 72, The secret is there's nothing to do, truth is busy looking for you, Didn't you know?

So if you want to live in bliss, learn to love life as it is, don't worry about the where and how, live life in the here and now and you'll be fine,

If you've lacking love you'll stay poor, If you've got enough then you'll get more, Time waits for no man or god, If you want pure love... marry a dog...

Everyone's Happy Inside C F Everyone's happy inside, C F They just don't know it yet, C F Everyone's in love with life, C F It's the best kept secret, C F We are made of the C F stuff of the stars, C F We dance our lives to the C F beat of our hearts, G F C F We dance 'til we die and we're born again G F C F We dance 'til we die and we're born again, lalalalala

It's Time to Play the Music (to the tune of the Muppets theme song) C Ebdim G It's time to play the music, C Ebdim G7 It's time to dance by moonlight, C C/Bb F/A G# Light the fire, get inspired C G7 C At the rainbow tonight,

It's time to make some magic, It's time to let our spirits shine, Here together now and forever at the Rainbow tonight, C/G F#m Fma7 F/E At the inspirational, sensational, celebrational, Rainbowational, Dm7 G13 C This is what we call the Rainbow!

F C I wonder why angels are so flighty F C7 while we're left on the ground, F C It's coz they take themselves so lightly F G7 and don't bring anyone down!

You've Got to Believe in Shiva C Am Oh you've got to face the facts, F G Even if they're odd, C B Am G You've got to believe in Shiva F G C Because he's the only cool god.

F G C Am How many gods have dreadlocks?

F G C C7 Or skin that's moonlight blue?

F G C Am And Kali, well she's hardly the kind of woman F G most gods could wake up next to...

Chorus How many gods dance destruction?

With cobras wrapped around their necks?

How many gods stay stoned for thousands of years at a stretch?

William Blake Song

A9 Dmaj7 To see a world in a grain of sand, A9 Dmaj7 And a heaven in a wild flower, A9 Dmaj7 To hold Infinity in the palm of the hand Emaj7 Amaj7 and Eternity in an hour,

William Blake, weary of Time, Like a sunflower, counting the steps of the sun, Ever seeking that sweet, golden clime, Where the traveler's journey is done,

A9 Em9 Rose, thou art sick, A9 Em9 The invisible worm that flies through the night sky A9 has found your bed of crimson joy, Em9 A9 And with his dark, secret love, Em9 with his dark secret love, G D D7 Does you life destroy,

A9 Every morn and every night, Dmaj7 some are born to sweet delight, A9 Every night and every morn Em9 A9 Some are to darkness born, A9 Some are born to sweet delight, Em9 G D D7 Others are born to endless night,

A9 Hold onto a joy Em9 and the winged life you destroy, A9 Dnaj7 But kiss a joy as it flies Emaj7 Amaj7 and live in Eternity's sunrise.

Emaj7 Amaj7 Because Eternity's in love with the Productions of Time.

Little Prince Song E Fm# B7 E I've seen drunks and geographers,, accountants and kings, Cm# D B7 I've seen so many very strange things, A7 People with no roots who go, E Cm#7 D B7 Anywhere the winds blow, (a tree told me so),

I never should have listened to a word she said, I should have just breathed in deep her scent, I was too young, I was too dumb to know how to really love her, now i'm in this desert, A7 She was vain, she was a pan, E her pride drove me away, A7 But I was too young, I was too dumb B7 to know how to really love her...

So now I must find a way to return home, There's a flower I left there all alone, she's just got 4 little spines, what counts in life can't be seen with the eye (so now I must die), B7 E Look for me on a star...

Your Songs

Your Songs

And now some stories because the printer insisted on 80 pages...

The Kissing Tribe I was once a very angry young man. I was disgusted with the modern world - the pollution, the corruption, the desperate chase to a happiness that was forever just around the corner. It sickened me. I longed to breathe air free of poisonous gases, to meet people unconditioned by the mass media, to find a way of life uncontaminated by the excesses of our so-called civilization.

So it was I found myself walking deep into the tribal territories of North Pakistan. It was as remote a place as I could find on the map and with each step that I took into the mountains I felt my spirit lift, freed from the burden of having been born in the late 20th century.

In fact, as I made my way through forests, across rivers and up mountain paths beyond any outlying village, I could have been walking through the world at the dawn of time.

I traveled light, just a down sleeping bag, a pot and a bag of rice and dried fruit and made my bed in the shelter of caves or even the generous branches of ancient trees. With no one to talk to my mind began to fall quiet and all that I thought I knew fell away to be replaced by a childlike wonder at being alive in such a beautiful world.

And so it was, on one autumn afternoon that I ascended a path through a pine forest, that I felt her eyes on me. I looked up and saw possibly the most stunning woman I'd ever seen. Her hair was long and matted and sewed with feathers and dried flowers. She was barefoot and wore only a loose leather skirt and her body was decorated with tribal symbols painted on with clay. But it was her eyes that left me quite speechless; they were wild and gleaming with a freedom of spirit I'd never seen before.

Before I could find anything to say, she sprang forwards with the agility of a deer, landing square in front of me. She took my head in her hands and, bringing my lips close to hers, engaged me in a kiss like none other. But though it was as deep and intimate a kiss as I had ever received, there was nothing amorous in it. It was more like

she was trying to communicate something.

As suddenly as she had advanced, she sprang back up the hill and then paused, confused, as she saw that I hadn't moved. A ripple of confusion passed across her smooth, tanned countenance and she made a kind of an awkward gesture with her hand that I should follow.

By now I was thoroughly entranced and had already surrendered my will to this enchanting creature. I scrambled up the slope and did my best to keep up with her but as we passed up through the forest and across mountain passes, she had to wait for me to catch up on half a dozen occasions. The temperature dropped as we climbed higher and with the sun sinking behind the hills to the West, I began to wonder where on earth we were heading.

At last the path began to descend a little and presently we arrived at a hill overlooking a narrow valley, hidden away in the depths of time.

The last of the sun glowed on the clay huts down below and people began to pour out of their dwellings as they saw us approach. My guide skipped down the slope to meet her people and they formed a circle to greet her. She took her place among them, turned to the woman behind her and kissed her for a full ten seconds. Then she turned and passed on the kiss to the man behind him. The kiss passed around the circle like a wave, changing and evolving as it went until they seemed to come to some kind of conclusion and my guide ran off into the village, returning soon after with an old man who needed to be shown where I was standing, his eyesight not quite meeting the task.

'Welcome!' he called in a crackled Urdu as though he hadn't spoken for quite some time, 'Welcome! Please come and join us.'

I picked a path down the slope and marveled that everyone present watched me in total silence as I followed the old man through the village and into the clay hut where he lived. It was dark and musty inside and he gestured for me to accept a seat on a rug on a floor. He

took a seat opposite me and as tea was brought, he began to tell the story of his village. His voice was weak and my Urdu was rusty but I just about managed to follow the tale.

'Once, my friend, this was a village like any other. We lived in a natural Paradise and yet jealousy, hate and misunderstanding poisoned our lives like they do everywhere else. It was such a mystery to us – we knew that we were all basically good people but somehow we failed to get along peacefully. It seemed almost as though what one person said was never what the other person heard.

'We took the matter to the village shaman and he in turn went to ask the spirits of the mountains what was wrong. He came back after three days of not eating or sleeping, his eyes ablaze with revelation.

The problem, he said, was the air. It changed the meaning of our words as they passed the distance between the mouth and the ear.

'The answer, he said, was to learn to communicate through a kiss.

Mouth to mouth there was no way for the air to intervene and contort what we wanted to say. No one could ever lie with a kiss and even the inarticulate could express themselves with their lips and tongue.

'So for one day a week we fell silent and learned to say everything through a kiss. It was hard at first but the second year we extended it to two days a week, the third year three and so on until after seven years we no longer needed to utter a single word. That was over 40 years ago and now there are few people left alive in the village who even remember how to speak at all.'

I blinked hard as I tried to absorb all the old man was saying but before I could put any questions to him, he leaned forwards, grabbed my head and told me the story again... through a kiss. His lips were roughed and cracked and his breath smelled vaguely of raw onion and yet... somehow I felt I understood better the second time around.

I stayed with the tribe for several months, learning their language and

their ways. Like ants that embrace briefly as they meet each other on the path, so, too, we all exchanged brief kisses through the day as we brought in the harvest, forming circles at night as we told stories and poetry lip to lip. When a baby was born in the village it was greeted by a kiss from everyone present to welcome it into the world and when someone way dying they were bid farewell in the same way.

I would have stayed with the but the winter was coming in and I just wasn't hardy enough to stand the bitter cold and biting winds. The snow would have trapped me in the valley for months and reluctantly I took my leave of the village that had restored my love for life.

Everyone in the village turned out to say goodbye and by the time they let me go, my lips were sore.

I headed back down the mountain, back to the broken, confused world I had left behind. In the end, it was where I belonged and who knows, maybe I could even help heal it.

Maybe even through a kiss.

The Three Thieving Demons There were once 3 demons sat in a hole at the end of the world and they were very bored. They had deep, cruel eyes that could read the naked hearts and minds of any human or beast; they could run, jump and fly around the world in the time it took a drop of their acidic saliva to hit the ground; and they could devour any creature in the world, tearing the flesh off their bones while the heart - the juiciest morsel of all - was still beating n the skeleton...

And yet they were utterly bored.

'Anyone hungry?' said the white demon with slanting green eyes, licking the scabs on his thin, springy legs.

'What's on the menu?' asked the fat, yellow demon whose head was one big mouth.

'Anything on the earth.'

'Had that yesterday.'

'What about if we go and start a war between the humans?' the blue demon lisped, a slithering blue creature that never stopped writhing around.

'Do you really think they need our help with that?' the white demon sneered, squeezing out the pus from his foot and slurping it up.

And so they sat about in their stinking hole, picking at themselves, fidgeting and slithering about; masters of the earth and with nothing to do.

'Wait - I've got it! the yellow demon announced with a loud fart, 'We'll play a game!'

'Which one? I-Spite?' the white demon asked excitedly.

'Hide and Shriek?' the blue demon hissed.

'No. Treasure Hunt. We'll take turns at stealing whatever is most important to the humans.'

'Great! I'm going first!' the white demon declared and with one spring of his scabby legs he was gone.

In a matter of moments he was perched on a rooftop of one of the great cities of the world, a cloth sack on his shoulder, studying the humans to see what they would miss the most.

'They love looking at things,' he observed to himself, 'I could take all their eyes... not very subtle though. Got to be cleverer than that. Ha! I've got it!'

The yellow and blue demon awoke from a lazy nap to see the white demon scramble in the hole, splattered with red spots.

'Been in a fight?' the blue demon inquired, his tongue darting about curiously.

'No! I've gone and stolen the colour red! It's all here!' the white demon snorted, slapping down his full sack, 'You should see 'em! No more pretty sunsets - the sun looks like a bit of ash going down! No more kissing - grey lips like old iron aren't very inviting! And best of all, everyone keeps burning themselves on fires the think have gone out! What a laugh!'

'You're nothing but an amateur,' the yellow demon sighed, 'Let me show you how it's done.' He inhaled deeply, slurping in the air greedily and his already swollen belly began to inflate and he drifted up off the ground and out of the hole. Then, hitchhiking on a passing wind, he was blown thousands of miles through the sky in a heartbeat.

He came to a halt floating above a marketplace in Africa. He watched for a while and saw that though the humans had to work to make a living, they got through their day with plenty of smiles and laughter to keep their spirits up. This really is a doddle, he thought and opened up his sack.

Back in the hole, the white and blue demons heard the sounds of muffled giggling as the yellow demon approached.

'That dumb glutton. He's gone and forgotten about the game and just brought back some kids for lunch!' the white demon snarled.

'Oh no, I haven't - though I did stop for a snack in a playground on the way home,' the yellow demon admitted as he landed softly, the ripples of belly fat settling one on top of another and a smirk spreading across his face as the other demons stared curiously at his sack. 'I've stolen all the laughter in the world! Now when something funny happens the humans try to laugh but nothing except tears comes out - beat that if you can!'

'Simpletons. The both of you. To take what the humans value the most you have to understand what holds them together. Just watch.'

The blue demon slid out of the hole, his body hugging the ground jealously and in a moment he was gone.

Unlike the other two, the blue demon didn't need to sit and think about to steal for he'd lived among the humans since the earliest times and knew full well what was most important to them. Opening his cloth sack, he crawled through the world and stole all the stories. * 'Stories? What difference is that going to make?' the white demon scoffed.

'Can't even eat them.' the yellow demon sniffed.

'Fools! Stories are what held their whole society together. Without them their world will come apart at the seams. Just watch.''

And to the grudging admiration of the white and yellow demons, that's exactly what happened. Without stories to inspire them, the humans stopped building and creating. Without stories to help them see the world from another's point of view, everyone blindly believed that they alone were right. And without stories to teach them the

lessons of the past, people just went and made the same mistakes again and again and again.

Without stories to help them see what they had in common, the humans began to think only of themselves. Without stories to teach them values, everyone did exactly as they pleased without a thought for anyone else. Without stories to connect them to the deep, magical mystery of life, people began to lost all hope and will to carry on.

Families fell apart, strangers fought in the streets, people robbed, bullied and cheated one another and the only thing left for anyone to believe in was 'every man for himself'.

Now, it happened that a little girl about 8 years old called Libi, sat on the balcony of her house and watched the chaos in the streets below her sadly. What happened here? she asked herself. But she didn't know so instead she looked up at the sky and asked what happened?

What happened? What happened? over and over until she fell into an enchanted sleep.

In her dream she saw three disgusting demons sitting in a deep hole somewhere with drips of a colour she couldn't remember ever seeing splattered on the ground. They were taking turns to sip from a cloth sack and falling to the ground in hysterics afterwards. Then, from another sack, they pressed their ears close and listened intently, quite absorbed in whatever it was that they heard.

Those rascals, she thought, It's all their fault. Awaking, she knew at once what she had to do. She filled her lunch box with apples, cheese and biscuits and set out to take back what had been stolen. * Under normal circumstances, it might have seemed strange to see an 8 year old girl walk out of the town and into the fields alone. But no one knew what was normal any more and were too busy looking after themselves to pay her any mind.

Libi didn't know where the demons lived but guessed that it was probably not on any map so she just walked steadfastly on, day after day, allowing the winds to guide her. The land grew empty and bleak

as the miles passed, plants dying out and all things beginning to blur around the edges. The sky became a haze that seemed to fade into the land so there was no long anything you could really call a horizon and, though there was always light, she could no longer see the sun in the sky.

On the 7th day of her journey she thought she saw a small creature dart across her path and disappear down a hole. She stood very still and after a few moments a pair of gleaming eyes could be seen in the darkness of an underground tunnel, sizing her up. Presently, out stepped a white fox, so perfectly suited to his environment that Libi could only see him at all by his eyes and his shadow on the ground.

The fox stared at her intently and finally said: 'Where on earth do you think you're going?'

'To take back what was stolen.' Libi replied simply.

'Ah yes, I heard about that,' the fox replied, licking a paw attentively, 'And what makes you think that you can get the demons to give back what they've taken?'

It was a simple question but it was proof of Libi's simplicity that she simply hadn't thought about it. She just knew that it was the right thing to do, that was all. How she was going to accomplish it had never occurred to her.

The fox couldn't read minds but the little girl's face was an open book and he wondered at her utter lack of guile. He was a creature that had learned to be crafty in order to survive and to see a creature as painfully naive as Libi touched him to the core of his fox's heart.

'Listen to me,' he said, 'If you go there unprepared then those demons will have you for breakfast before you can open your mouth.'

'Then what should I do?' Libi asked.

"You must learn the weakness of demons!' the fox said with what might have been a smile. The, looking both ways to make sure no one was watching, he leaned forwards and whispered in her ear.

* The demons had had a rather fun morning. First, they'd thrown red all over each other - which really wouldn't have been that funny except that they'd drunk deep from the sack of laughter - and now that they'd calmed down a bit, they were about to squeeze out a story from the third sack when an unfamiliar scent wafted in from nearby.

'I don't believe it.' the white demon growled, 'I can smell-' 'Little girl!' the yellow demon said, patting his belly, 'And I smelled her first!'

'Sss, wait,' the blue demon hissed, who was more sensitive than the other two, 'This one has more to give us than just a snack. Let's see what she wants.'

And so it was that Libi saw the three demons crawl out of their hole, the first a mess of infected scabs and matted hair, baring his razor sharp teeth; the second a repulsive yellow belly with a mouth on top, openly drooling at the sight of her; the third less terrible in appearance but somehow more frightening by the intensity of the penetrating reptile eyes with which he stared at her.

'Hello.' she said, resolving to overcome her fear by being friendly.

'Hello? You don't say hello to certain, terrible death!' the white demon snapped. 'You don't say hello to a demon who's about to suck out your eyeballs.'

'Or squash you into chutney!' the yellow demon added, licking his lips.

'Or drink your blood sip by sip.' the blue demon threatened.

'But then we wouldn't be able to play a game.' Libi said cheerfully.

'A... game?' the white demon asked, his voice quavering a little.

'Yes, it'a a guessing game. If I win then you must give me back everything you've stolen and promise to leave us alone. If you win-'

'Yes?' the yellow demon belched.

'You get to eat me for lunch.'

'We could eat you anyway.' the blue demon retorted.

'But then we wouldn't get to play the game, stupid!' the white demon scowled, 'What can this little pipsqueak possibly know that we don't anyway?' Turning back to Libi, he said: 'We accept and we go first.'

The three demons then huddled together to compose a riddle between them, cackling each time they found a way to make it even harder to guess. After a few bites and scratches and awful giggles they settled on a final version and turned around.

'I'm neither there nor here,' the white demon began.

'No one wants me but I visit everyone,' the yellow demon added.

'I'm only found when things disappear,' the blue demon said in a mocking tone of voice.

'I only come when others are gone!' the white demon concluded and they all broke up cackling, confident that they'd set an impossible riddle.

But Libi was not all fazed. She met their eyes calmly and said: 'Loss."

'What? How could you have guessed so quickly?' the blue demon spat angrily.

Libi shrugged. 'Look at what you did to my world. You took away what was most important to us. It was loss you gave us. It was loss that brought me here. Now it's my turn.' Closing her eyes to concentrate she recited: 'I could be common, but I'm usually rare, I'm the criminal's hope, the sinner's prayer, I cost nothing but I'm worth a lot I'm the only way a wound can be forgot.'

The demons bit themselves until they drew blood at the difficulty of the riddle. They thought they had heard all the puzzles before but this one was new to them and they found themselves gripped by the fear of losing.

'We get one guess each!' the blue demon insisted.

'That's not fair.'

'Since when were demons fair?' the white demon snarled, 'I guess.. gold! It's rare, criminals hope for it-' 'It can't make you forget a wound though, can it?' Libi smiled. 'Next!'

'Immortality!' the yellow demon cried, 'Everyone hopes and prays for it, and if you live long enough you forget any wound!'

"It can't be common though, can it? Next!'

The blue demon was a good deal wiser than the other two and didn't just snatch at a guess. Instead he used all his sensitivity to read the girl's heart and mind for the answer. But though he scanned every cell of her body with burning intent, he couldn't find it anywhere.

Finally, he looked into her eyes with unswerving hatred and said: 'I give up. What is the answer?'

Libi looked at him with pitiful eyes. 'Forgiveness.

The demons at once let out a loud howl of anguish and scratched themselves viciously with their dirty claws, hitting their heads against the ground in anger. The answer was so alien, so foreign to them that they were unable to see the little girl in front of them was full of it.

The only reason she'd had the courage to come here in the first place was that she had already forgiven them for what they had done.

'You might have won,' the white demon growled, looking up at her hungrily, 'But what's to stop us eating you anyway?'

'Because if you did the word might get out that you cheat and then no

one would ever play a game with you ever again.'

The demons shuddered at the truth of her words. More than killing, eating and causing pain, they loved most of all to gamble and they could not risk losing their reputation. Despite themselves, it was their only point of honour. The snake demon eyed Libi icily and observed: 'You've been talking to foxes.'

But before Libi could reply he pulled out the three sacks and ripped them open with his teeth and the bleak land around them burst into life; Libi's eyes filled with a colour brighter and more vivid than anything she could remember seeing, her ears tingled with sounds of millions of voices laughing and she felt a whirlwind of stories sweeping around her, a myriad of scenes and characters and metaphors flooding her senses until she no longer quite knew where she was or what had been happening...

She awoke some time later on her favourite chair on the balcony of her house. Her mother laid a cup of hot chocolate on the table beside her, stroked her hair and walked back into the house. Libi leaned forwards tentatively and saw that life was going on as normal in the streets - there was a couple kissing on the corner, some delivery men were sharing a private joke and an old man on a park bench was telling his grandchildren a story that had them wide-eyed with wonder.

Libi leaned back in her chair and sighed. She hoped the demons wouldn't get too bored in that nasty hole they lived in. Why couldn't they make a nicer home for themselves? * There wasn't a shadow, or a scent on the wind or the slightest sound but something told the fox to dart at once into the nearest hole.

'Miserable ball of mangy fur!' the white demon cried, 'I'll teach you to meddle!'

'I'm going to floss my teeth with your tail.' the yellow demon bellowed.

'I'm going to poison your soul drop by drop.' the snake demon promised.

'Oh I wouldn't do that if I were you.' the fox laughed from deep inside his hole.

'Oh no? Why not?' growled the white demon, getting ready to jump down and grab him.

'Because then you wouldn't find out how to keep eating humans.' the fox simpered.

'But we promised to leave them alone from now on!' the snake demon hissed in rage, 'And it was you who taught that little brat the trick!'

'Oh, of course but that was when you just snatched them up. I'm sure no one would hold it against you when you're invited to dine.'

'You better start making sense quickly!' the yellow demon moaned, overcome with hunger.

'You just have to start eating them up from the inside.' the fox explained, 'No human wants to give you his body to eat but the soul is pretty much up for grabs I'd say. Just look around. All the humans who have given up on life, who have given into despair, who chase sordid dreams of lust and glory while dragging their hearts through the mud - doesn't that sound appetising to a demon?'

The three demons looked at one another in astonishment and slowly, surely, a smile formed on their lips and they began to laugh maniacally. How had they never thought of that before? Already they could smell desperation and despair on the wind blowing in from the nearest city. Forgetting about the fox, they turned around and set off in search of lunch.

The Old Man and the Sea There was an old man who lived on a beach in a shack that he'd built with his own hands, using driftwood that had washed up on the shore.

It had a crooked metal chimney and no door, only a large window that you climbed in and out of – only you never did as the old man had no real friends and never invited anyone in.

For him, the sea was company enough. Every day at low tide he'd walk along the shore to see what gifts the tides might have brought him - it might be that he'd find a crate of oranges, washed in from Africa, or perhaps a badminton racquet that he'd use to... swat flies!

Or perhaps he'd find only a piece of old rope that would serve him as a washing line.

The people in the village thought that the old man was crazy and warned their children to never go near his shack. But of course they did. When the old man awoke from his afternoon nap and opened up the shutters of his window he frequently found 8 or 9 children sat patiently on the sand outside, gone silent at the appearance of his red nose and white beard.

"Go on, be off with you!" he'd growl but the children would just gulp and sit right where they were. "Hmm, I suppose there's no getting rid of you until you've had a story?" the children would nod eagerly and the old man would light his pipe and say, "Well, now, yesterday we had the tale of the Dream Gypsies, and the day before that what was it? Oh yes, the Bad Breath Pirates.. But did I ever tell you the story of the Man Who Fell in Love With the Moon?"

And of course he never had and that was the amazing thing - the old man had never been heard to tell the same story twice. He came up with a new tale each time and so they always came back, running down the path from the cliff as soon as school was out.

The adults in the village had once been children, too, but they'd long forgotten the days of listening to stories on the sand. There was clearly something wrong with someone who had no friends or even a job and they preferred to ignore the old man altogether until one day, a surprise event made that quite impossible.

On a bright autumn morning an expensive car pulled up in the main square and a man with tidy hair and a shiny suit stepped out and walked straight into the mayor's office like he owned it. Shortly afterwards the word was passed around for everyone to meet in the church for an emergency council. It was a small village and soon they all were gathered on the wooden pews, wondering what on earth could be so important to be called together like this.

The mayor took the pulpit and with a smile that seemed to leap off his face he announced: "Today will be a day you'll remember forever. Mt Farrell, here," nodding to the man in the shiny suit sat in the front row, "Belongs to a very powerful oil company and they want to buy our entire village! From the fields where our cows graze to the houses we live in to the beach down below!"

"But, if we sell our houses," the librarian asked, adjusting her glasses nervously, "Where will we live?"

"Anywhere we want to - we'll be filthy rich!" the mayor cried, rubbing his hands together with glee and when he told them how much they'd be getting there was spontaneous applause. People jumped to their feet and began to slap each other on the backs and even dance in the aisles.

"But do you suppose the old man will sell?" the butcher asked and everyone froze in mid-celebration.

That afternoon the old man woke from his nap and, when he opened his window shutters, instead of a small group of children, he found a crowd of 50 or so stern-looking adults. The mayor cleared his throat and stepped forwards.

"I'll come straight to the point - how much would you sell your shack for?"

"What? This old thing? It can't be worth more than a hundred pounds," the old man chuckled, "It's just a bunch of driftwood and rusty nails." Everyone heaved a sigh of relief but then the old man added, "Still, it is home and I don't suppose any price can be put on that."

"But if you sell your shack you'll be able to live anywhere in the world!" the mayor pointed out anxiously, "And you'll be able to have all you want!"

"That's a very interesting offer," the old man agreed, "But you see, I'm actually quite happy where I am and as for having all you want, well now, I don't think anyone has that."

Another emergency meeting was held in the church that night and tempers were running high. To be so close to getting rich and to be held back by the infuriating obstinacy of a stubborn old man. The oil company would only buy if they could have the whole village and the beach down below but there was clearly no point in negotiating any further. The old man just didn't understand the value of money.

So they decided to starve him out. The baker and the grocer stopped their deliveries and a blockade was placed on the path leading down to the beach. The plumber cut the water pipe leading to the old man's shack and they reckoned they'd soon see him change his mind.

But as the days passed, they saw from where they spied on top of the cliff that the old man had just taken to fishing more and gathering mussels from the rock pools at the end of the beach. When his gas ran out he used driftwood for his fire and to collect rain water he used a couple of old umbrellas that had washed up on the shore.

Things came to a head one night when someone crept down to the beach and poured petrol over the old man's roof. A match was lit and the shack went up in flames with a roar that burnt it to the ground in no time. The next morning the villagers gathered on the shore and stared in silence at the pile of charred wood and ashes before them.

No one could find the courage to step forwards and poke through the remains for the old man's bones.

Although no one knew who could have done such a thing, the truth was that the thought had occurred to them all and now, as the waves crashed on the shore behind them, a part of their minds was unlocked, releasing memories of when they had come here as children to hear the old man's stories. Images of Indian emperors, whales that sang love songs in the deep, kissing tribes and flying

carpets flooded through their minds, and tears streamed down their cheeks as they remembered just how much they had forgotten.

"I've been meaning to rebuild the old thing any way - do you think I should put a door in this time?"

One and all turned, astonished, to see the old man walking towards them along the shore, a wooden crate under his arm, "A box of grapefruit washed up this morning. They're quite good if you cut off the bottom half - can I tempt anyone?"

And all at once they understood what the old man had been trying to tell them all along. Some things just could not be sold. Listening to the waves arrive on the beach and the old man's stories belonged to their childhood and was part of the story of their lives. And no price could ever be put on that.

When Mr Farrell of the oil company drove up to the village the next day he found the place deserted. He walked over to the cliff and shook his head to see everyone down on the beach, helping repair the old man's shack.

"Set the roof straight there!" called the mayor - not getting his hands too dirty.

While to the side the old man sat talking with the children and not a few of the adults, too.

"You'll be wondering where my stories come from - have you not already guessed? After all, I won't be around to tell them forever. The answer is that just like everything else here, they wash up on the shore. The sea is the greatest storyteller of them all."

The Emperor of the United States (a true story) The writer Neil Gaiman said in one of his stories that ‘it’s the little bit of madness that keeps us sane’. I saw the truth of this in one of my heroes, a man called Joshua Abraham Norton, who was Emperor of the United States from 1859-1880.

Norton was born in England, raised in South Africa and came to San Francisco in the 1840’s and made some shrewd business deals, making around a quarter of a million dollars. But then he pushed his luck too far buying rice from Peru and lost all of his money overnight.

Some say that he lost his mind as well and he disappeared for a while without a trace. But a couple of years later he was seen again when he marched into the office of the San Francisco Bulletin with a proclamation that read: ‘I, Joshua Norton, do hereby at the request and desire of a great majority of the citizens of these United State, declare myself Emperor of America and Protector of Mexico.’

And so began his glorious 21 year reign.

Norton began by ordering Congress to dissolve on charges of corruption and fraud and when, inexplicably, they failed to do so, his second order was for the army to march in and throw all the scheming politicians out. They, too, seemed reluctant to accept Norton’s authority.

But it would be wrong to think that Norton’s decrees were all ignored.

It was he who first ordered a bridge to be built across the Bay to Oakland - and it ended up being built some 70 years later. But even more remarkable was his vision for a League of Nations so that warring countries might resolve their disputes peacefully – this dream came true after the First World War when the League of Nations - the precursor to the UN – was actually formed.

But it would be wrong to think he only wrote out impressive sounding orders – for Norton was very much an Emperor of the street. Wearing an old military outfit with shiny brass buttons that he got from a sympathetic army camp, and a huge beaver hat with large peacock feathers, he marched the streets of San Francisco every day, closely

followed by his two most loyal subjects – street dogs by the name of Lazarus and Bummer.

And what did he do?

He inspected the state of the sidewalks, the maintenance of the cable cars and even the uniforms of police officers – a habit that eventually caused one of them to arrest Norton on suspicion of insanity. But when crowds gathered at the police station to protest, inspired by scathing newspaper editorials, the chief of police decided to let Norton go. To his credit he said; ‘To my knowledge, Mr Norton has neither robbed anyone, spilled any blood or despoiled any nation – which is a lot more than can be said for many in his line.’

Norton magnanimously granted the officer who had arrested him an imperial pardon and, thereafter, whenever policemen passed the Emperor in the street they gave him a full salute.

In fact, the whole town had quite warmed to their monarch.

Restaurants competed to feed him for free, in the hope that he would let them put up a plaque outside saying ‘By Imperial Decree of Emperor Norton I.’ The town hall gave Norton an imperial uniform to wear, the Metropolitan hotel gave him a room for free and, when he needed some cash for his daily expenses, he simply issued his own money with the help of a local printer. His banknotes soon passed into circulation and were accepted everywhere.

Some believe that Norton won his popularity because he was good for tourism. Newspapers around the country had picked up on the story and visitors to San Francisco looked for him so that they could pay a dollar in tax – Norton would write them impressive looking receipts that they could take home to show their family.

But the real reason Norton was so loved was for two particular acts.

The first was during the anti-Chinese riots of the 1860’s when anyone from Asia was liable to get beaten up and have their shop burned

down by racist agitators. When Norton came across a mob in the street one day, working themselves up to violence, he simply walked into the middle of them and began repeating the Lord’s Prayer over and over until eventually the crowd dispersed, feeling quite ashamed of themselves.

Perhaps, though, he really won the hearts of the people with a famous law he passed. Now you might get away with calling San Francisco ‘San Fran’ – maybe even SF – but there is one name you must never, ever use. Norton’s law read: ‘Whomever, after fair and proper warning, shall be heard to utter the abominable word “Frisco’ shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanour and ordered to pay a $25 fine.’

Finally, in 1880, after 21 years of office, Norton collapsed on the street one evening. A carriage was sent for but by the time it had arrived he had parted away. The next day the newspaper headlines declared: The King is Dead In an editorial dripping with sadness, the San Francisco Chronicle reported: ‘On the reeking pavement, in the darkness of a moonless night, Norton I, by grace of God Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico, departed this life.’

His funeral was paid for by a community of local businessmen and eyewitnesses say it was attended by ‘all classes from the capitalist to the pauper, from the priest to the pickpocket, from well dressed ladies to those who garb and bearing hinted of the social outcast.’

The funeral procession was 2 miles long as 30,000 people came out to pay their respects to their one and only Emperor, Joshua Abraham Norton the First, a man whose little bit of madness had kept him sane.

The Tale of Tails I went to the desert in Jordan last year to do some walking and think through where my life was going. But any hopes I had of finding some peace of mind were dashed by my choice of guide, Ahmed. He was a nosy, talkative, irritating man who never stopped moaning about how hard it was to make a living as a guide. As we walked through majestic canyons, rested in peaceful oases and slept under the dazzling starry sky of the desert, Ahmed kept up a running monologue about how if it wasn't for the generosity of foreign tourists he could never make ends meet.

Finally, I suggested as politely as I could that guides ought perhaps to be seen more than heard. Whereupon Ahmed took instant offense and fell into a deep sulk, muttering to himself all day and throwing me dark, resentful looks. But by that point I couldn't care less. It was just such a joy to finally hear myself think.

That evening we came to a hill with some caves and scrambled up to one of them to take shelter for the night. While Ahmed tried to coax a fire out of some dry branches, I went with my torch to check out the rest of the cave to make sure there were no wild animals living there.

You never know. There was no sign of any wolves or bears but I did recognize the unmistakable smell of bat shit. Bat shit, if you're fortunate enough to have never come across it, is the worst stuff in the world. It's sticky and smelly and if you get any in your hair it takes weeks to get it out again. I didn't find any bats but shining my torch around I saw something that took my breath away.

There were paintings on the walls - probably by the original inhabitants of these caves, thousands of years ago. That would have been an amazing discovery by itself but there was another detail that sent my head spinning.

Some of the people in the paintings had tails.

Not thin, graceful tails like a monkey or cat might have, but rather thick, crusty things like a reptile. And some of them sat high up in the air with their tails coiled beneath them while others, these without

tails, served them food and drink on the end of long poles.

“Ahmed, have you seen this? What's the story here?”

Ahmed looked up from where he blew into some embers.

“Guides should be seen. Not heard.” he remarked sullenly.

“But were these paintings made by the people who used to live here?”

I asked excitedly, sitting down opposite him, “And did they really have tails?”

I could see Ahmed was torn between maintaining his sulk on one hand and wanting to impress me with his knowledge on the other – and thereby increasing his chances of a good tip. So I pretended to lose interest and eventually, of course, he couldn't help himself.

“Yes!” he snapped, “They were made by ancient people and yes, they had tails – not everything your scientists are knowing, hah! “They had tails like the lizard – they could fall off! But not when they were scared or running away.

“Their tails fell off when they lied, or cheated or did some dishonourable thing. Their tails fell off from the shame of it.”

“But some of the people in the paintings didn't have tails at all-” I began but Ahmed waved his hand imperiously.

“Who is telling this story? You or me? Hmmm, so yes, there was born a generation so wicked, so sinful at heart that they could not go five minutes without doing or thinking some evil thing and so their tails never grew at all. Next to these sinners, the others felt even more virtuous and pure and they sat up high on their tails and whoever sat the highest was the purest of them all. But pride comes before the fall.

“One morning the righteous ones clapped their hands for service but none came. They called down to their slaves for breakfast but there was no answer. The sinners had run away in the night, abandoning their masters to starve to death on top of their tails coiled so high in the sky. One by one, hungry and thirsty, they tried to get down and

one by one they fell to the ground, their bodies breaking into many pieces. “And that is why we humans have no tails. We are descended from that race of sinners and that is why the world is in such an evil state, where even a poor tour guide cannot make ends meet to feed his family...�

Ahmed got his tip. He deserved it, after all - not that I believed a word he had said but... even if he had made the whole thing up, yet there was something... true in the tail

The Wishing Well Before the world was mapped there were many more places you could go. The only borders were the natural ones - impassable mountains, violent oceans, treacherous swamps and... the limits of your imagination.

These days, of course, we live in a world that has been mapped and measured, examined and explained. We know where everything is, how long it's been there and how long it will last.

But it was not always so. Once - and it may well still be true for those with particularly strong imaginations - you had only to dream of a place to be sure that it existed somewhere. The world was but a mirror of your mind.

One such place was the Wishing Well. It didn't look like anything special, just an ordinary stone well with a wooden bucket in the middle of a field. But drop the bucket down into the Wishing Well and it came up full, frothing and bubbling with your deepest desire.

Childless women came to the Well and pulled up a bucket with a new born babe inside and many were the musicians and philosophers who came to drink deeply of a draught of Inspiration.

But though few saw it in their excitement of finding the Well, a carved on the rim of the stone well were six word of warnings; an old curse.

May all your wishes be granted Take those who came seeking riches, for instance - pulling up a bucket of gold they discovered their treasure was too heavy to carry.

Their skeletons were sometimes found resting upon their riches, teethmarks left behind on their gold coins.

The brokenhearted, too, came to the Wishing Well, desiring only to forget. But after drinking deep from the Well, they forgot not only the name of their Beloved but also their names, origins and professions, condemned to wander the world for the rest of their lives like aimless ghosts.

It was said that the Wishing Well was only ever found by those who believed they would find it. No sooner had they emptied the bucket of their wishes then the Well would vanish and reappear somewhere else.

So it was perhaps ironic that the last person to find the Wishing Well was one of the rare souls who wanted nothing at all. His home was wherever he lay his head to sleep that night and, owning no more than the clothes on his back, he was grateful that he had nothing to carry. His friends were the people he happened to meet as he walked the earth and he traveled wherever the winds blew him - until one day when a mischievous gust nudged him into a large open field with a stone well in the middle.

It was a hot day so he walked up to the well to slake his thirst and lowered the bucket to pull himself a drink of water. The rope seemed creaky and reluctant though and when it came up too light to have filled, he expected to find holes in the bottom of the bucket. Instead there was a folded note. Opening it he read: Are you sure?

Scratching his head he suddenly saw the words carved into the stone rim and all at once he understood where he was and broke into hearty laughter. What on earth could he wish for? He needed new shoes, it was true - but the ones he wore were so comfy now that his feet were used to them. He could do with something to eat but he was willing to bet there were berries in season in the forest. He briefly considered asking for a new razor as the one he had was going quite rusty - but it seemed a waste of a wish and he rather fancied himself with a beard anyway.

It struck him as a little sad that so many people would have given their little finger to be where he stood and yet he couldn't think what to wish for. Then inspiration struck and he lowered the bucket, chuckling as he dunked it in the water below and pulled up a load of...dynamite. Striking a match on the stubble of his chin, he lit the fuse and, as he let the bucket fall, he ran away as fast as his legs would carry him.

A loud explosion from behind sent him sprawling flat on his face and

suddenly the air filled with a cacophony of sound; elephants blowing their trumpets mixed with the sound of roaring locomotives and a New Orleans jazz band. He raised his head to see all the water from the Well shooting up in the air in an impossible collage of images flamingos performed ballet upon the back of an enormous sunburned whale, polar bears kissed passionately in tuxedos and telephone boxes argued furiously about whether there was such a thing as free will...

And then it was all gone. The water of the Wishing Well evaporated into the sky and mingled with the clouds. A sharp breeze came along and in no time the clouds were dispersed far and wide across the planet.

Which is why, if you ever want a wish to come true, all you have to do is take a walk in the rain, stick out your tongue and maybe, just maybe, you'll catch a drop from the Wishing Well. .

The Man Who Fell in Love With the Moon Of all the stories of broken-hearted lovers, none was ever quite so desperate as the man who fell in love with the moon.

It all began in the park one evening as he sat on a bench, shrouded in self-pity, staring at his cell phone in despair. His girlfriend had just dumped him - by SMS – and he felt all alone in the world. He no longer cared what happened to him now that there was nothing on earth for him to live for but... wait! Who was that in the Western sky, curled up above the horizon with a shy silver smile?

And in that moment - moonstruck - he knew he would never love anyone but her again.

She soon retired for an early night, being but a young thing and her admirer stretched out on the bench where he was, staring up at the sky in sheer gratitude, hoping beyond hope that she would be there again the next night.

He passed the next day with his nerves on edge until around sunset he saw her again, a little higher in the sky this time - and how she had grown in a single day! When the fat old sun in the West flopped over the edge of the horizon, the moon gracefully followed, too young to stay up late.

Over the next few nights she began to mature into womanhood, staying out for longer after dark and when the man courted her by the pond in the park, small shoals of moonfish swam to the surface to feed on her light.

With each passing night she grew brighter and brighter until her radiance banished the smaller stars from the sky. Finally, on the 14th night the man could hold back no more. He awaited her entrance at the eastern horizon anxiously and as she rose majestically into the

sky he thought he would go mad with love. He danced and sang to her all night, even climbing the trees to be closer to her, but still the moon drifted across the sky without paying him any mind. Was it possible that he would be rejected again?

The next evening she was late to arrive and he wondered if she might have moved on to other skies. But then she rose again from the east, seeming to struggle against the jealous pull of gravity until she broke free and began her journey across the night. Again the man howled declarations of eternal love until his throat was hoarse. He begged for a single word of kindness from her, a sign that she would accept his devotion but she seemed not to hear and continued her way calmly.

The following night the moon arrived even later and he noticed that she seemed to have lost some weight. She seemed thinner around the edges, no doubt due to the long distances she had been traveling but still he worried for her health. Night by night she became thinner and thinner, losing her healthy shine as though she were being eaten away by an illness of the heart. He dragged a doctor to the park at 3am to see what could be done but the medic just shook his head and wrote him a prescription for a sedative.

Nothing it seemed could be done. The man kept a solemn vigil, staying awake each night and late into the mornings, his beloved these days unable to even make it across the sky, so thin and tired had she become. At last came the day he had known in his heart would arrive, the night when she didn't come at all.

He couldn't bring himself to move from his bench and sat there weeping feverishly through the days and nights, surviving only on the coffee and bread that kindhearted passers by brought him. He stared at the pond and wondered whether he should end it all for what was life without her? He had more or less made up his mind to throw himself in when... there! – in the Western sky – he had to wipe his eyes and pinch himself to be sure, there she was once again, a newborn babe with a bright innocent smile.

As the sun's rays filtered through the branches the next morning, the man suddenly understood. She was probably too shy to make such a public love affair here in the town. He laughed as he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before and drove out to the desert where they could get some privacy at last.

Alone at last, surrounded by nothing but dust and cactus, the man watched his love grow each night, now more beautiful than ever without the distracting lights of the city, each day assuming greater possession over the reign of the dark heavens. And when she reached maturity on the 14th night he once again sang out loud his love to her, dedicating his life, his heart, his soul, he was hers for the taking.

And again she made no sign that she had heard and towards the western horizon, the hounds of dawn hot on her trail.

And though she was now far from the polluting influences of the city, still she was struck by the same wasting illness as before and again her admirer went through untold agonies on the earth, watching her fade away. Months passed by in an endless cycle of passion and despair and the lover of the moon could take it no more. He wanted to have her, to hold her, to possess her love all for himself. And finally, he came up with a plan.

On the 14th night of his 7th month of courtship, he waited until his love was at the peak of her beauty and withdrew a long knife which he then plunged deep into his chest. Withdrawing the blade with a little piece of his heart on the end of it, he threaded it around a fishing hook and line and cast it high up in the sky to the left of the moon. A hungry star swallowed it at once. He plunged the knife in again to take another piece of bait and cast his line out to the far right of his love where another star wasted no time in biting hard. He cast out five lines this way and tied the ends around his bleeding heart and fainted, overcome with the effort.

The moon, having taken center stage of the night, began her song of departure, drifting across the sky and downward to her bed in the west as always but on this night found her way blocked by a kind of

net. She was caught like in this web stained with the blood of a lover's heart and could not break through. The sun came up some hours later and she winced before the merciless brightness of his light and scorched by his heat as he passed close by.

She passed several days of this torment before she shook herself free awake from the dream of birth, decline and rebirth that she had lived for millions of years. Held motionless in the sky, her magic began to fade and her light became more dull each night. She looked up and saw that the stars were holding her in place.

“Why are you holding me prisoner like this?” she asked reproachfully.

“Don't blame us!” the stars cried, “We also want to move on but we're stuck too!”

The moon looked down and saw for the first time her lover and perceived at once his total desperation and how much he had sacrificed for her. His passion so great that her light had filled his soul almost entirely and there was very little of him left. She told the stars to all pull together and they slowly lifted up the barely conscious man through the sky, swaying through the air and then out into the space, setting him down gently on the surface of the moon. With a sob the man cut the lines and threw himself upon the object of his heart's desire.

“Please forgive me!” he begged.

“If you had held me there for much longer I would have died forever,” the moon replied gently, “My light is for everyone and cannot be owned by any one person, however in love they may be.

“But stay, ride with me now and sing to me during the dark passages when even my heart grows afraid. It will be a comfort.”

And so ends our story of desperate love. But if, on a clear night, you hear snatches of song from far away up above, look closely and you just might see the man in the moon.