Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

My detective mate, the vertically blessed, Miss Beth and I received a distress call
Triangulated its source to a hidden chamber masked behind a fortified wall
Gales incoming, storms scheming, hastened our feet to Kiosk No 6
Unassuming red box of England past, proclivity towards a line of bricks
Beth, we can’t waste a moment, the Doctor’s in a hurry, this impediment we must lift!
My Bantam might have done the trick but where he is there’s no such gift
Mazzy, what do you suppose we do know, what number must we dial?
Confidently I explained to her, “This mission requires my tomboy style!
Determinedly we turned our heads in synchronised step to face the door of the red box
The square root of my birthday divided by hers and then we pulled up our respective socks
To pep us up as we opened the door, ready to punch in the resultant numbers
A blast of cool air hit our face, refreshing as like fresh cucumbers
Oh Doctor, be it the jungles of South America or in New Zealand’s rolling hill
This tomboy polymath shall get You out of there, just look out of the windowsill
And should You see a red box in the sky, spinning towards Your way
Take my name – a piece of MEERA – and catch the morning sun’s bright ray
The corridor has not run out for You and life has not been summed up
You and I still have a date, O Doctor, romance in a teacup…  ♥♥♥ 

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/DoctorWho/photos/pcb.1249296421751049/1249295161751175/?type=3&theater

Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

“My detective mate, the vertically blessed, Miss Beth and I received a distress call Triangulated its source to a hidden chamber masked behind a fortified wall…”


Kiosk No 6 Red Telephone Box: Winchester’s TARDIS To The Rescue!

“Mazzy, what do you suppose we do know, what number must we dial?” Confidently I explained to her, “This mission requires my tomboy style!”

 

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

 

 

Tomboy Style

Girls soften at the paste of pink lipstick and take selfies day and night
Palanquins they dream of, embellishments hazardously bright
I side-step to the left, escape the queue of pout-lipped glamour dolls
Dreaming of scooting on Birmingham’s BSA Bantam down the Niagara Falls!
Two-stroke engine tummy, 125cc three-speed gearbox – I know is olden news to You
And the fuel tank tiny – top speed 45mph – registers similar to the flu
Fish-tailed exhausts and telescoping covers to keep safe springs beneath mist green body
All in all, You cough and splutter, You think my wheeled Love positively shoddy!
Well, sit down on that armchair; I have yet to begin my defence
First request I have of You is to abort thy common sense!
A bantam is a small chicken by definition but plenty of gusto in its bread
Clocks strike the hour once but my peachy bike strokes two-times instead
Three speed gear box to shift between the Past, Present and Future of clock’s layer
Why must I accomplish lightning speed? 45 revolutions per minute is a perfect music player!
A mermaid for an exhaust pipe and a Hubble cauldron above a forest green drapery
My bike is fuelled with literary prowess even though it’s not really that papery
And should I ever marry, let it not be the boring palanquin on which I take my seat
Black gypsy hair to the wind I say and peddle-anklets to my feet… ♥♥♥

Tomboy Style

“And should I ever marry, let it not be the boring palanquin on which I take my seat, Black gypsy hair to the wind I say and peddle-anklets to my feet…”

 

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Birmingham Science Museum | Birmingham | Midlands | UK 2015

 

Celebrating Mr Shano’s Birthday – The Boy King!

A budding amateur Egyptologist from since the time I first began to decipher the squiggly-penned hieroglyphics that we commonly call the English language, the historic annals of Ancient Egypt continuously fascinate me. I cannot ever conceive of ever a time befalling me in which the land and its ancient history diminish in its spellbound grip over my sensorial and imaginative faculties, that is an impossible predicament! Alas, what to say of the unendurable irony that is insufferably distressing, for I have travelled all over the world extensively, albeit it is the poignantly and golden dusty dunes of Egypt that have yet to be touched by my pilgrim’s feet.

Imagine now of the extent to which I am teetering on the edge of a precipice of nail-biting suspense after news was released that, since the monumental discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb – The Boy King – in November 1922 by English archaeologist Howard Carter and his team, there is to be now a RENEWED examination of where the boy sleeps. The most preserved and intact tomb to be found in the Valley of the Kings returns to the limelight again, in another November nearly a century later, and the tomb is once again subject to serious study, aided by technological accomplices that were unavailable the first time round.

For what reason do the eyes of the world gather and return to the site of one of the most glorious material and cultural treasures ever found on earth? Surely all that was to be retrieved and archived has been done so, then what underlies this sudden resurgence of scholarly attention to the tomb KV62, the Boy King’s resting place?

Because there is a firm unity among the contemporary archaeological community insofar that they believe that although the Boy King rests peacefully so in his elaborate tomb, it is not the BIGGER PICTURE of the HISTORIC TRUTH. There is strong evidence to suggest, according to the results of preliminary analysis that BEYOND THE WALLS THERE IS ANOTHER WALL…

To apply a personal analogy to the significance of the potentiality of this find I would dare to align it in comparison to the hypothetical scenario of discovering that one day, as opposed to the general view of a four-chambered heart, something came up and it was proven thus that the human heart housed five chambers instead! To confirm the existence of a chamber beyond the walls by which the Boy King has rested for centuries is to welcome a complete revision to the very architecture of our current knowledge of Ancient Egypt, and undeniably it will go far in accentuating the already romanticised imagery we all naturally associate with the world of the Pharaohs.

But there is another twist to the tale – all good tales are bound to this property after all! Many theorists hold dearly to the idea that inside this potential chamber may be the last resting place of one of the most enigmatic queens of Ancient Egypt, her name – if You do not know already – is of course Nefertiti. Married at 15 and who was in faithful reign alongside her husband Akhenaten, they were truly a HERETIC couple, passionately devoted to the establishment of a religion that called for the worship of One God whose personification was said to be the Sun.

Her name translating loosely as, “a beautiful woman has come”, she could quite easily be the most profound TREASURE of Ancient Egypt ever to surface, favouring to be hidden and unseen behind WALLS of a chamber famed for its sleeping boy, perhaps she has been waiting to reveal herself to the world at the RIGHT TIME? Only TIME will tell… ♥♥♥

Meanwhile, I present to You the luminously adorable portrait of one of my most big-hearted students and friend, Mr Shano, and I will hope very much that You raise a toast or show a rousing clap of hands for my good chap because he is the Boy King of the moment – well, that is how we all feel do we not on the day of our birthday?! Giggle, giggle! ♥♥♥

No wall is fierce enough to thwart the echoes of my Love & Faith,
Always Your tinkling little majesty, Mazzy xxx

LINK 1 [Excellent Photo Archive of Carter’s Expedition]: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/africa/king-tutankhamun-officials-90-sure-there-is-a-secret-chamber-ancient-egyptian-tomb-a6752586.html

LINK 2: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-34952947

Celebrating Mr Shano’s Birthday – The Boy King!

“Meanwhile, I present to You the luminously adorable portrait of one of my most big-hearted students and friend, Mr Shano, and I will hope very much that You raise a toast or show a rousing clap of hands for my good chap because he is the Boy King of the moment – well, that is how we all feel do we not on the day of our birthday! Giggle, giggle!”

 

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

 

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE V

Categorically speaking I am a devout tomboy through and through and despite the plotted global efforts to have me converted to conventional sanity so as to coerce my melting into jelly at the sight of a Micky Kors bag or Louis Venison dress or Goo-Chee wallet,  I defiantly rise, triumphant as who I am. Me.

There is a mild exception to the rule.

I turn as mushy as mashed potatoes whipped into a fluffy storm and topped with butter and pepper whenever I lay my sultry eyes on that extremely hazardous man of sublime tier of intelligence, wit, heart and suavity. I refer to the heavenly appeal of Sir Benedict Cumberbatch aka Sherlock Holmes! Yes, I wish to marry his gigantic neuronal network! Giggle, giggle, hips in a wriggle! :))

But, the story of fantastical infatuations does not end there, for there is another one whom this heart longs to meet! He is of even shorter frame than I. The furry immigrant who stowed away on a ship from Darkest Peru, adorned by his new family in London and garbed in a blue anorak, Wellington boots and a flimsy but reliable hat ensemble – the latter being just perfect for stashing away those emergency marmalade-blessed sandwiches – dare I need to say his name but I will do so anyway because I shimmer with dawn light on my lips when I type his name out: Paddington Bear!

So, where and what is the hullaballoo?! Where am I going with this seemingly random burst of inventory of desirous admirers? Oh do not pale Your faith in me at this point in time, that would constitute an awfully unfortunate error on Your part, especially since I am in a groovy position to knock the socks out of Your knobbly feet with the news that I have yet to bestow upon Your unvigilant consciousness! Ahem, ahem, are You ready?

Tune into BBC ONE tonight at 10.35pm (GMT). For those souls impoverished of the facility to access the channel due to Your current residency outside the British Isles I send You the Link to the preview of tonight’s episode that has only just been released by the BBC and I pray that Your gadget shall be of enough cunning and fancy footwork as to allow You to catch a glimpse of what is in store for me.

WATCH the most utterly and absolutely insane but undeniably adorable act of enraged jealousy ever caught on camera as Mr Sherlock ruthlessly battles it out with TEDdy on the SETI – sorry – Settee – no – wait – technically it is an armchair! I am touched beyond imagination to see two of the finest men in my sphere fighting to the black-out in order to have a winning chance with me! At the time of writing these words I am laughing my head off, hiccupping it with demure giggles and a disbelieving shake of the head, whilst in my Soul I salute Destiny a thousand times for its clever actualisation of a bespoke visual token replete with the RIGHT INSPIRING FORCE.

Why do You scoff and sneer? Ah, too violent?! Well, sometimes You have to put on Your Child Vision spectacles if polymathic thought processes elude Your psychology, only then shall You be privy to the BIGGER metaphorical picture: The GIANT bear is being subjected to a good and expert pounding by a time-honoured detective on the noble premise that when the BEAR-LIN WALL comes crumbling down, an unified PIECE shall be upon him…  ♥♥♥  (Yes, You should have paid more attention in HISTORY!)

Please  do enjoy the final installment of BELLE UK – preferably with a walled but roofless cup filled to the skating rim with heavenly tea!

It is a singular joy to observe myself secrete the first ink droplet, to let it emerge on untouched, white paper. So tiny in size, so giant in significance. Surely that is how worlds are made…
Always Your Hobbity Poetess, Mazzy xxx        

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/BBCOne/videos/vb.470911516262605/1041936712493413/?type=2&theater

 

 

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE V

“Please do enjoy the final installment of BELLE UK – preferably with a walled but roofless cup filled to the skating rim with heavenly tea!”

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE IV

It is swiftly approaching that grand and exceptionally exciting time of the year when not only are we embraced by the sumptuous stew of festive cheer, but that in addition, there awaits the much anticipated Christmas Blue Apple Theatre production staged by my very own hugely talented troupe of students! Having been involved in the growth of the company since its fledgling days I can tell You that the journey has been one of remarkable achievements of cosmic dimensions with the actors now in popular demand to perform nationwide along the British Isles, though, who can tell, perhaps one of these days they and I may arrive in Your town, too! That would give You a jolly case of the ticklish jolts, would it not?! Giggle, giggle! :))

We have, thus, all been terribly busy in the past few months, a joyous exhaustion that cannot be separated from the jiggling suspense of yet another series of star-studded nights in front of an equally star-struck live audience, although I would be telling You a chunky porky pie if I were to claim that the explanation for my unrelenting bouts of anticipatory jumping ended within the parameters of these Words. There is more to distil into Your ears and it is so that I swell in pure indulgence as I announce that my students will be translating onto stage one of the most timeless short tales ever to be penned within the English language. You may let out a puff of indifference if already You have fallen into the foul trap of preconception, thinking it is not worthy of Your attentions, for what could a children’s tale possibly offer up to You? Ah, there are no such creatures of that sort – tales for children simply do not exist. A tale is the fruit of a determined combination of Words tied by authorship, what becomes of it and how the story unfolds relies on the one whom approaches it…

I am proud to reveal that we shall be enacting the great Oscar Wilde’s THE SELFISH GIANT! Profuse with rich and detailed imagery of Nature’s unchanging rhythms and the divine purity and liberating potential of the heart of a child, the Selfish Giant is in essence a tale of the transformative power of True Love. In my own case I, with brewed fondness, inform You that this story has had a profound bearing on my own personal Faith as I was growing up in my childhood which inspired me to believe that never are the walls of the human heart cantankerously intractable nor headstrongly concrete. I grant that the possibilities may be morbidly dim, and yet I cannot renounce the conviction that it requires only the RIGHT INSPIRING FORCE to make such walls crumble as to make them the kin of dust. Children and those of childlike sensibilities are guardians of this Good Magic, their ways do not let up to comprehension so easily but – oh but – how blissful the moment when Spring rushes into the uninitiated heart like the melodious song of one’s Amma calling them to the dinner table… 

When the world falls silent and You have completed the day’s chores – depending on Your time zone that could be either quite imminent or, alternatively, You may have some way to go before the sky begins to materialise into its calm nocturnal blackboard – take comfort with a cup of tea and listen VERY CLOSELY to Sir John, an amazing tour de force of British cinema – as he does a marvellous job of mesmerizingly reciting an olden tale which soon we shall bring to life on stage. Ah, yes, I can foresee with the Gift that I possess that by the end of the tale You will rebel not to admit out, and yet shall remain in secret agreement with me, that You know precisely everything there is to know about that once chap who used to live his life as a Selfish Giant… ♥♥♥

The day Your fountain pen clicks with mine the Earth will want to grow more,
Always Your Mazzy xxx

LINK to audio recitation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EYXhez0PhY

LINK TO Blue Apple Theatre: http://www.blueappletheatre.hampshire.org.uk/

 

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE IV

“… never are the walls of the human heart cantankerously intractable nor headstrongly concrete, and I grant that the possibilities may be morbidly dim, and yet I cannot renounce the belief that it requires only the RIGHT INSPIRING FORCE to make such walls crumble as to make them the kin of dust…”


Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

 

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE III

When I was but a tiny sprout and my world did not transgress beyond anymore than that sacred periphery of my Amma’s (Mum) legs I would impatiently yearn for the day to turn into evening so that she would sit down and tell me a tale or two, those immaterial and priceless oral gifts that had been passed down onto her by her own grandma when she was growing up in the village back in the distant hills of Bangladesh. My other siblings were not as absorbed by Amma’s hypnotically genius aptitude for storytelling as I was, to hear her every word and capture each nuance and inflection of her face as the tale rolled out from the rich repository of her memory and into my earnest-eyed canvas of the imagination was the epitome of joy, and each evening invited me to discover the same treasure without it ever failing to enthral the beats of my ticking heart with each retelling.

One of the recurrent themes of these olden tales was of Nature and of particular the role of TREES. Of many shapes, sizes and colours, they figured as the abode of both students and sages, yet in some narratives their leafy canopies would be occupied and infested by shabby and disfigured dark spirits, witches for example. My Amma had me hooked so tight with these visualisations that I would pack up and enthusiastically go off on mini adventures to the park, that lay across from my childhood home, to investigate the foundations of these stories, admiring and probing the architectural poetry of trees and flowers much more closely than the other children and pondering to myself whether under whatever tree that I stood in could it have once witnessed a wandering sage taking respite under its sheltering firmament of verdant leaves.

Winter in the 80’s were extremely cold and the thick snow would often reach as far as the height of the windowsill, and I would perch against it, looking out at the gnarled and bare branches but it never saddened me to see them so, for I always thought it quite pleasant that the absence of fleshy leaves meant that whenever a cute fat red-breasted robin chose to settle on a branch I would enjoy the most beautiful unobstructed view. And, were it the case that not a robin but the more macabrely dressed raven or crow were the fleeting visitor then that too was a blessing of a visual treat because it simply took my breath away in awe to see such phenomenal contrast of jet blackness against the pristine backdrop of the whitest snow. Thanks to my Amma’s tales I came to interpret the raven and crow as the disguised embodiment of the good witch, a feathered crone of secret knowledge.

Storytelling, once it arrives and swims into Your bloodstream the world is never again the same. Everything becomes enchanted with limitless possibilities and though I am trained in the Sciences, it has done little to hamper my perception and admiration of the existence of magical stories hidden in the barky and leafy bodies of trees. In fact, I would state that I have successfully married the empirical universe to that of the imaginative one to create a dimension of Vision that can never be truly known for what it is and thus an immortal curiosity flickers whenever I come across the tree. I do believe they are cognisant of my deep veneration for their kind so much so that when I sit under one in my beloved garden I am compelled to feel as if I have arrived at the place that shall always be the destination beyond all other destinations.

A remarkable exemplar of connection absent of language, I pray that You will take time to pause a while in Your hectic day and, instead of dismissing my words altogether, will learn to look at these silent but resonant companions of our world with an open heart, only then shall it be possible to listen in to their whisperings of a wisdom as ancient as the star matter from which You were created from… ♥♥♥

To add a touch of spark to my words, click on the Link to sample the spectacular story of an old-as-the-hills maiden tree who lovingly weaves a carpet of brightest gold every autumn and yet it is a carpet that does not fly, on the contrary, such is the spell of her creation that she draws the people to her, and they do arrive in their flocks, on a magic carpet made of their insatiable imagination – just like the one I was taught to fly on thanks to my Amma’s delicious tales woven in threads of trees… ♥♥♥

LINK: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/peoplesdaily/article-3330402/Magical-autumn-foliage-Millennia-old-Ginkgo-tree-tourist-hit-leaves-form-perfect-golden-carpet-Chinese-temple.html

To Trees: Grounded, rooted and still, but oh how they walked and walked and walked for me!
Your Woodland Storyteller, Mazzy xxx

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE III

“… the spectacular story of an old-as-the-hills maiden tree who lovingly weaves a carpet of brightest gold every autumn and yet it is a carpet that does not fly, on the contrary, such is the spell of her creation that she draws the people to her…”

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE II

Miss Emily is wonderfully endowed with that variety of face whose tender, angelic and kindly features form a veritable and coercive source of warmness as to melt away the hugest of icebergs, leaving behind in its wake only a well-behaved glass of still spring water! I wish Hans Christian Anderson or Lewis Carroll were still alive to have cared a glimpse of Miss Emily’s looks, for I am such a seasoned bookworm that I can categorically state that both authors would have not taken any length of time to bat an eyelid that they would have fast begun enshrining pen to paper, weaving tales suffused in magic, enchantment and high adventure starring none other than my dearest pixie matey! Just look at that adorable face!

I was adamant to immortalise the lovable innocence of Miss Emily’s face so I launched a fuzzy bombardment of silly comments and anecdotes about the myriad slapstick mishaps I often find myself in the middle of, all joined by the common denominator of my vertically-challenged height! For example, when enjoying a casual browse of books in my favourite bookshop in town it is nearly always the tragedy that the book I most passionately desire is also the one that is stationed at the Everest summit of the shelves, as if the sales assistants received little other comedic contributions in life and as a final attempt to salvage a morsel of humour into their working clock they have elected me as their unwary benefactor for keeping their spirits high! Ah, the irony is bonkers! Giggle, giggle!

For the purposes of the objective I do believe that I have satisfactorily succeeded. What You see below is Miss Emily as she is to me, naturally buoyant and full of irrepressible fairy tale charm, and fortunate I feel that I am able to share this visual authenticity of a good friend with You. It is more than a hundred times likely that You too must have dancing in Your circle of friends such faces that are gently, but nevertheless powerfully, an ore of hidden medicine, wherein one look at them is sufficient to wither and banish away all bluesy goblins to the dark forests from whence they had come from. You do not know Miss Emily as a person, though my heart tells me so that upon gazing at her You will feel as if the stars have come down to sit next to you on that wooden bench…

Last night I said that, whilst sat on my own bench, I was yet still an uncatchable creature than the fastest car in the world. I am rubbing my palms in gleeful delight to see that settee – sorry – SETI have fantastically vindicated my Words today with astronomical flair! I am famed in my circle for bearing a CHESHIRE CAT GRIN, named after that mysteriously elusive cat from Alice’s Adventures, who has a funky and funny habit of disappearing just when You are stricken with the urge to ask it for more clues, and as if that did not annoy Your rhubarb to a twist, the catty grin is known to be the last feature of its face to vanish before Your eyes! Get Your ADMIRAL TELESCOPE and Your LOUPE devices out and watch me among the diamonds of the night-sky, smiling out my grin with comfortable smugness, for I am indeed a thing unyielding and most difficult to CAT-ch♥♥♥

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/SETIInstitute/photos/a.123276420534.133038.67487330534/10153699320275535/?type=3&theater

The fun is IN the chase but is it not daft that no chase comes with a handle?!
Your Eternal Alice of the Stars,
Mazzy xxx

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE II

“… I wish Hans Christian Anderson or Lewis Carroll were still alive to have cared a glimpse of Miss Emily’s looks…”

 

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE I

The wintry air crisp and cool, ripe with dappled early morning light laced with honey tones whose colour impishly belied the nippy clime, I was in high spirits today, for I had arranged a magical walkabout in Winchester with another very good matey of mine! My fingers were embittered with a layer of coldness that even my thermal gloves resigned from the arduous challenge and I was left to resort to diverting my mind to the warmer thought of the imminent prospect of meeting up with my gorgeous and adorable pixie mate, Miss Emily! Pathways bustling with eager-eyed Christmas shoppers and the Germanic wooden cabins glinting in their golden sheen outside the entrance way to the stony fortress of the Cathedral, I scudded along as fast as I could and when I saw her waiting for me I gave her a massive jump by dashing in front of her, but the shock quickly gave way to bear hugs soon after!

We took huge sniffs of the Spanish doughnuts and steamy sweet mulled wine being concocted and stirred into life inside enormous shiny brass cauldrons, and little trinkets such as stained glass lanterns and dried satsuma wreaths twinkled at us, beckoning to be purchased and taken to a loving home. Our first stop, however, was an ordinary looking bench that happened to be facing the vibrant wonderland theatrics of those humming Christmas cabins. Taking stock of the sublimity of the beautiful weather and exchanging thoughts for the prospective Christmas party, I contemplated how the laid-back and quiet simplicity of two friends hanging out on a park bench was not something tenable for having a price tag attached to it. Priceless, it is. To sit on a bench is to invite the rare relief of pausing the world even though it is seen to be moving in front of You. You do not watch the world go by, more it is the case that You allow permission for Yourself to be immerse in the awareness and appreciation of the world that You are.

I should wish that You shall take a spare moment soon and acquaint Yourself with a companionable bench and should You be with a friend when You do this and observe that moments can pass without a single word spoken – in the absence of phones that is! – then I extend a hearty congratulations as the two of You have mastered Silence as yet another language by which to express the unceasing luminosity of Your friendship. That is a nice privilege to be had, indeed!

My cheeky pixie mate, Miss Emily, was the perfect accomplice today in the admiration of Winchester’s besieging display of alpine greenery amid the Christmas cheer but I do hope that in the future I will play host to a special guest to this wooden bench that You see in the photograph below. Do You dare to guess who he is? If all else fails there is always a Link at hand. Click on it to access a dapper picture of the furry gentleman in question! Giggle, giggle! ♥♥♥

You will be ejected from Your seat should You begin snoring on the bench!
Your winking Hobbitina, Mazzy xxx

LINK: https://www.facebook.com/PaddingtonBear/photos/a.157585777634955.33066.125079994218867/988023317924526/?type=3&theater

Belle UK: Chilling Out With A Winter Wonderland Pixie! EPISODE I

“To sit on a bench is to invite the rare relief of pausing the world even though it is seen to be moving in front of You.”

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

British Rogue: The Force Is Strong In Us! EPISODE V

Alright, alright, I shall momentarily abort whatever little ladylike etiquette I had tucked away under my sleeve to confess that I have always been a fanatic of WOOL, Nordic jumpers aside my fascination also includes one very delirious infatuation for thick, chunky, woollen SOCKS! There, take it or leave it! Oh my, You want to take it and also in the taking You wish to know more about this act of amusing aberration from the usual top-ranking essentials of the fashion wardrobe frequently cited by ladies all over the world! The famously phrased ‘little black dress’ that makes a formulaic entrance into most women’s armoury actually hardly makes a nano-ripple on my radar! I simply find them a chore to my sensory receptors, a boring convention but, however, I should like to emphasise that this is not to say that it would not do marvels for another woman. Many of my friends look absolutely divine in their pretty frocks, goddesses gleaming with enough glamour power to switch on all the lights in Winchester without the authoritative backing of the National Grid! No, the issue lies with me, my potentiality for admiring the dress has been boldly swept away by another greater love!

You better take a seat in that armchair.

YES! Bulky, pudgy and snuggly winter socks do it for me!

I am a serious connoisseur of bohemian jumpers and socks, a true collector whose emporium of wool not only serves the comprehensible function of keeping my hobbity body nice and warm in the long wintry season here in England, but that there is a sacred relationship between my comfort clothing and its effectiveness in slipping me gently into the mood for composing written work that sparkles with intimacy and solace and warmth. As for sinking into a good book and letting the world slip by as if it were a trifle distraction, nothing does it better in getting into that mind frame than pulling on a pair of socks that Shackleton himself would have been proud of! Either You are laughing Your head off or sniggering with contempt, either way, I have Your attention! Giggle, giggle!

In the very, merry, berry last edition of BRITISH ROGUE – for the time being anyway – I exalt the merits of warm clothing that were brought on by the knife-edge stimulant of a freezing wind as Katie and I came to the end of our playful fancies in the park. I remember vividly a forceful gust that came out of nowhere and it made a dancing graffiti of my dark gypsy locks, an unseen Lover, terribly concerned and deeply caring, telling me in his own way that I ought to seek the shelter of a Teahouse and restore the familiar heat back into the circulation of my little body. I wonder who he was…?  ♥♥♥

I do hope that You have taken much pleasure in following Katie and I as we strutted our pious brand of delinquency in Abbey Park of Winchester and if someday You choose to come and visit our tiny town then do call upon me, it would be an honour to swing with You! Giggle, giggle! Oh, and do not forget to click on the Link to see what is my Vision of comfortable marital bliss, expressed in the language of clothing – a husband and wife, casual and yet adventure seekers with a huge mutual love for SOCKS! How incredibly awesome and thoroughly cute are these photographs! YEEEHAAAAA!!!

For a man to Love a tomboy implies he will never be bored of her
Socks will be the decider between the amateur and my Dear Sir… ♥♥♥ 

May The Socks Be With You!
Your Tomboy Hobbitina, Mazzy xxx

LINK: http://tomboystyle.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/uniform-lisa-b-socks.html

 

British Rogue: The Force Is Strong In Us! EPISODE V

“I do hope that You have taken much pleasure in following Katie and I as we strutted our pious brand of delinquency in Abbey Park of Winchester and if someday You choose to come and visit our tiny town then do call upon me, it would be an honour to swing with You!”

 

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

British Rogue: The Force Is Strong In Us! EPISODE IV

Smeagol is a pivotal character in Tolkien’s amazing magnum opus, THE LORD OF THE RINGS, in which he plays a maniacal and slimy creature living in pitiful seclusion inside the dark and dank caves that burrow under The Misty Mountains. Once a hobbit, when Sauron’s maliciously evil Ring Of Power falls into the unsuspecting hands of Smeagol he is immediately corrupted by its possessive spell and loses his mind, running away and eventually seeking isolated sanctuary under the Misty Mountains. He is repeatedly heard chanting the word ‘Precioussss’, his pet name for the object of his desire.

The fall of one hobbit of many years past, however, was not to dictate the destiny of all hobbits, for Tolkien’s tale moves forward to a new generation in which two hobbits, who had no intention to go on a grand adventure, do just that and change the course of history for all those of Middle Earth.

Why do I tease You with such summative descriptions of a book and its characters when my current photographic series pertains to a theme that is a world apart set within a parody agenda of one of the most highly cited fashion magazines on the planet?!

Well, sorry to be a huge pain on Your big toe but I have yet another case of a beautiful and enchanting synchronicity between my little world of Words and actions and the events of the bigger world beyond my doorstep. When Katie and I unleashed our uncontainable kindergarten inclinations into the kingdom of the playground we found not far from the swings a most alarming but exciting apparatus waiting to be anointed with our buttery fingers!

A huge rope-weaved web was stretched out from one pole to another and upon grasping our attention, Katie and I once more exchanged that classic look, fired with the simultaneous acknowledgement that Destiny had apprised us of a SIGN that would be of significance at a later date, but that for the while not a second should be lost and however wacky it would appear to those around us we simply had to be caught in it! In the most literal of terms our performance act would define QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT with poetical efficiency and mystique, the physics of the dot world would be transformed into play!

Plunged into the web, an abstraction of the WORLD WIDE WEB itself, Katie simulated her mannerisms to mimic the devilish Black Widow SPIDER as a way to demarcate between the seductive attraction for acquiring and coveting information in the digital age as opposed to the more personal quest for authentic knowledge.

Little did my friend know that I had shook her hand earlier in a false display of gratitude and had planted, without her knowledge, a splodge of superglue on both palms! You do not believe me? That is fine with me, Your imagination has already approved of the validity of my account! Giggle, giggle!

Oh, so sorry, I seem to have abandoned my exposition of the link between the spidery act of the playground and LORD OF THE RINGS! The photograph in this edition’s BRITISH ROGUE, parading a genuinely hilarious screaming face of my good mate – giggle, giggle – was taken on Monday, my only day off in the week. NAT GEO published a momentous article later in the week announcing the discovery of a new SPIDER originating from South America and she is named, cue drum roll…. SMEAGOL! Pale gold and yellowy in colour, she has a tendency to blurt out the word ‘PRECIOUS’ and takes whatever You throw at it with a macabre grin, beware of this vicious vamp and her all-seeing EYE companion!

My team and I know exactly the ‘pair’ who will be jolted by these words but rest assured, it is all in GOOD TASTE in the world of BRITISH ROGUE! I know you two will laugh with us! Giggle, giggle!

Followed by a Spider and her Eye I fear not
I’ve stuck on their palms my gooey bogey snot!

Your ever reliable 5ft 1 comedienne and jaunty jester of the Word
Mazzy Hobbitina xxx

LINK: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2015/11/151119-lord-of-the-rings-arachnid-smeagol-harvestmen-science/

 

British Rogue: The Force Is Strong In Us! EPISODE IV

“Little did my friend know that I had shook her hand earlier in a false display of gratitude and had planted, without her knowledge, a splodge of superglue on both palms! You do not believe me? That is fine with me, Your imagination has already approved of the validity of my account! Giggle, giggle!”

Photography, Concept & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015