Miss Pearl's Opera House disapparated (Mr. Webster says that is not a word, but a Mr. Harry Potter disagrees, and who am I to cross wands with such as Mr. Potter?) one day, leaving, for the moment, a delightfully flat piece of land next to Rhianon's house, on which one can easily land a medium-sized airship. Next to that, Miss 3ring Binder has replaced the existing structure with a store: Bad Kitty Clothing. I was about to suggest to Miss Binder that the palm tree would be much more likely to survive in a climate more tropical than that of Caledon, but it was gone the next time I passed by.
Professor Swindlehurst's lab is not new, but I still enjoy the most unwelcoming welcome sign ever devised, including "Tremendous Dangers to Life, Limb, and Sanity." I've never quite reconciled "No Tresspass" and "No Breathing" with "Welcome." We moved on.
New to the Downs, along the rail tracks: Casmir's Eclectic Items.
The next two shots show the Belisa Bing estate:
Though Miss Ladyartista Labrada sold much of her Downs property, she still maintains a small, peaceful plot near Windemere:
Moving just into South End, we encountered the firing range. First, we took a rest beneath the large, gnarled tree:
Then it was time for target practice! I take aim:
As I stand aside, Rhianon adopts her best "execute the prisoner" pose:
Magazines emptied, trigger fingers sore, targets blasted to pieces (and, as an aside, one should not miss the experience of shooting at the stone target to the right of the wooden target; while it does not blast apart the way the wooden target does, giving a great deal of psychic satisfaction, it does produce some amusing statements when hit), we decided to call it a night. I love the smell of cordite in the evening!
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