Another lovely day, and another week since I posted anything (again!). So what’s new?
I have been kept busy with all the written work, but that’s nothing new I suppose. I have received quite a few queries about the new Comic book, and I can tell you that is scheduled for next month. I will let you all know the publication date soon, but I can tell you it has all the old ‘stars’ in it. Well, tell a lie, a couple of new one’s have been added now including my American friend Don Ecker who is depicted as being put on a certain ‘bishop’s’ hate list. Not too sure if Don will like his picture, but if you’re reading this, Don, be assurred I didn’t draw it! Gareth’s also in it as well, and Cousin Hoggy’s also back who dies after scoffing a Christmas Dinner turkey laced with poison that was intended for myself. He ends up in heaven (wings et all) but is quickly kicked out (minus his wings) and ends up in the ‘firey pit’! But I mustn’t give too much away or I’ll have the American mafia after me!
I have also received many queries about the 2nd Volume of my autobiography which hit the bookshelves (and Amazon) this July. I can see no harm in putting another short extract here now that the book is on public sale. But only a short one as I don’t want K telling me off again! She lives too close for me to feel entirely safe!
Seeing Della and Gareth tomorrow, so that’s some more wine to look forward to. Probably mean another very late night as well, as we (that’s Della and me – not Gareth!) tend to enjoy the early hours. Probably get her to make some sandwiches to save cooking after she arrives.
Anyway, here is the extract, so hope you enjoy. For now
London was very quiet, almost too quiet, after the frenetic activity of Paris. It was good to be back to a usual routine, although the flat seemed somehow ‘empty’ without Colette. After all, we had been married for almost three years by this time, and her possessions all around only seemed to magnify her absence.
Little things like coffee mugs she had bought, or her clothes still hanging with mine; or her paintings and sketches adorning the walls; all reminding me of my marital status, although without any chance of physical communication. I knew that she’d be back, but somehow the months grew longer as they edged towards that hot August of 1982.
In June of that year, I received a visit from a French girl I’d met at the Luciferian Congress and kept in touch with. Her name was Annie Leteneur, and I later discovered she was well known in France; although the used the name “El Cat” in her profession as a medium and clairvoyant. In fact, she was one of the same girls who had given myself a ‘vampire kiss’ during the ‘marriage’ ceremony, and been featured (with myself) in the French Press.
In the course of our correspondence, she’d expressed a desire to visit London, and it wasn’t too long before we had arranged for her to stay for a week at my flat.
She arrived attired in much the same outfit she’d worn at the Congress; a flowing black dress, shining ‘occult’ rings on most of her fingers, with painted green finger-nails and lipstick to match.
I met her at Victoria Station, and as she kissed me lightly on each cheek, I couldn’t help noticing the alluring smell of some French perfume which did little to quell an arising sense of excitement. Yes, this sense was mainly sexual, as usual, and probably evoked by the smell of the perfume; but with it came an overwhelming compulsion to feel her flesh and ultimately take her to bed.
She spoke good English – although I had remembered that from the Congress.
I took her to the flat and that evening served her a meal of carefully selected food. She had already explained in letters that there were certain things that she had to avoid eating; not out of personal preference, but because she was on a careful diet that she didn’t want to ‘break’. I had done my best at avoiding any potentially ‘fatty’ foods, although I couldn’t help thinking just how strange people’s eating habits could be sometimes. To myself, food was ‘just food’ in its natural state – including such things as eggs milk and butter – and it was only ‘junk food’ that should really be avoided. I had respected her requests, of course, but couldn’t really see the reason. Apart from that, she wasn’t even ‘fat’!
We sat talking until the summer light faded, and she then asked if I could light some candles instead of the main light. It was more ‘relaxing’, she said, besides which, ‘real vampires’ didn’t like bright light, she added laughingly.
She took my hand at one stage, and then turned it. She had seen certain things ‘in my eyes’, she told me, and wanted to see if these things were to be a part of my destiny.
It felt strange sitting there in the flickering candlelight; her expression intense, her hand almost ‘heated’ by the physical contact.
“I can see there has been deep tragedy in your life”, she said eventually, “it’s still there for you, isn’t it?”
I remained silent, but my eyes questioned hers.
“Love that was very young, but which did not meet fruition for you”, she said almost definitely.
I gently but firmly pulled my hand away. “Yes, but I really don’t want to talk about it”, I told her.
In fact, I was uncertain of whether she was talking about Alison or my mother; but it didn’t matter, I didn’t want to discuss either, certainly not in terms of vague semblances.
“I’m sorry”, she said, at the same time wiping away some moist tear that must have found its way down my cheek. “Let me hold you, as the past doesn’t really matter.”
I felt her warm form pressed against mine, although I made no attempt to retract. She may have been a very gifted spiritual medium, but sexual impulses seemed to be fast taking over.
We eventually climbed into a large double-bed in another room. She walked around in a black transparent nightdress she’d brought from Paris. ‘No’, she wasn’t ‘fat’, I concluded, it was definitely her feminine imagination.
The bed was soft, like her body. But at one stage I couldn’t help having a ‘tinge of conscience’ as I straightened the sheets and felt Colette’s nightdress neatly folded up under a pillow.
“David Farrant: Out of the Shadows”, July 2011
I hope my red satin robe doesn’t get fondled in a guilty fashion when I am absent; or you’ll be making your own sandwiches!
See you in a bit,
My dear child! I would never dream of ‘creasing’ your beautiful red satin robe; nor indeed would I allow anybody else in my Parish to disturb its forlorn sanctity where it remains guarded in the Victorian wardrobe. Even Br Gareth has not been allowed to touch it; and his idea that he would like to try it on was firmly rejected by myself who told him quite succinctly that he had enough ‘girlie clothes’ of his own, and to keep his wine sodden paws off yours.
Seriously the beautiful satin vestment lies uncreased and unsoiled where I frequently remember it in my prayers. Must say though, it looks much better when its wrapped around the soft body of its owner, which really affords it pride of proper place. So worry not my child, it is well guarded in the boudoir sanctum.
No doubt be seeing you in it again over the long weekend.
Yours for the moment,
P.S. – Don’t forget you still have yet several sandwiches to make to my esteemed satisfaction!
I just discovered this page, you just made a mistake, the name under which I am known in France is Hecate, not El Cat.
I sent you a message a few months ago for a small internet contact, but certainly you did not receive.