I slunk along Princes Street, then cut through the new shopping centre in the East End to take the best lit route to the bus station. I phoned my sister to let her know that I would be staying with her in Perth that night, but then had second thoughts. I hung up. I would text her later explaining that my phone battery had failed, and I had been refused passage as a result. I stayed instead in a hostel in a residential street off Leith Walk, dreaming about insects.

The following morning I meandered up towards the bus station again, and found myself following in the footsteps of The Benefaktor. I walked the streets that he wrote about at the start of these blogs and imagined myself copying his loping stride. Feeling as out of synch with my own natural rhythm as one of The Benefaktor’s jazz classics I realise that I am being mimicked on either side, and look left and right to see The Benefaktor and The Foundation Doktor respectively. The Benefaktor is on the traffic side, obviously, playing the part of the gentleman. I mutter an uncaffeinated greeting and am persuaded down the steps to an independent café.

The Benefaktor has his phone on the table, zoomed into the last words of my previous blog. So he knew that I knew. A weight removed. We talk quite normally for a while, relaxed even. And we move effortlessly into the purpose of writing, and what we want from life. The Benefaktor is experienced in this, from all his professional roles. After he left the ministry, he explains, he found himself on various charitable boards, then a directorship, and at one point did some media work. He undertook various leadership programmes to support this work, and couldn’t recommend them highly enough, looking at his granddaughter, generation skipped.

I felt small and insignificant against their collective knowledge and qualifications. Apparently sensing my discomfort they asked what plans I had made after the loss of my job and the insecurity around our Highland home. And for once I was able to bring some positivity and “agency” to our discussion. Yes, I had applied for jobs, and yes I was on a shortlist for a completely new role. It felt like meeting an ex but not being pulled under by the usual undertow. I felt no ties to these people anymore.

GANTOB

7 November 2023

Don’t forget to enter The Foundation Doktor’s competition to win a unique piece of art by GANTOB (inadvertently using TFD’s bootlegged text of an imagined Curt Finks story).

I feel like a naughty child as I creep back up the stairs in the café thirty seconds later. I’ve removed my red jacket, folded it, and placed it in my bag. I slip into a corner behind a column beside the toilet, and sit back to gain a view of the window seat that The Benefaktor and his young female companion have moved to. I find myself holding my breath, taking up as little space as possible, a silent shadow.

I can’t make out what they’re saying. But catching a few glimpses under the table as I pretend to search my bag, I can see the characteristic “y” of the earpieces to a stethoscope. The Benefaktor is in profile, his hawklike nose marking him out as a hunter. His partner in crime is face on, but as she turns to look out over the castle it’s clear she has the same nose. I have seen enough. I don’t need photos.

Outside, keeping close to the wall to avoid being seen from above, I flick through the images on my phone. I study the photos of the signing of the original artwork that The Benefaktor and I worked on, and find one that we didn’t use – a display of pictures on the bookcase beyond the desk showing a photo of The Benefaktor’s wedding, and two younger generations. The children now into middle age. And the grandchildren in various school uniforms, all teeth, braces and hair. And there she is – medical school graduation, a London university, dated 2023. She must be The Foundation Doktor.

I slip down the steps beside the café entrance and wait behind the bins, invisible as a vixen. I shrink back to avoid the staff as they prepare to close down, and stay in that position as I hear The Benefaktor’s patrician drawl as he descends the steps at a trot that is matched by The Foundation Doktor.

“Keep lights full beam”, he advises. “And no headphones”.  

“But it’s just an audiobook”, she retorts. “For research. I always listen out for cars”.

She appears to look straight down towards the bins as she works on the lock, which she then fits back together and places in her pannier.

“Well, you do need to keep going with that”, The Benefaktor agrees. “And the writing. Holding position for now though”.

I share this here so that they know I know.

GANTOB

6 November 2023

Don’t forget to enter The Foundation Doktor’s competition to win a unique piece of art by GANTOB (inadvertently using TFD’s bootlegged text of an imagined Curt Finks story).

This Kontrakt (our first) was written on the back of two napkins in a café on Princes Street, Edinburgh. GANTOB, squiffy with kaffeine, scribed. The Benefaktor diktated. We have both signed it and also agreed the wording of this blog.

Here are terms:

1. The Benefaktor, and associates, will not be allowed to post on the blog/ social media accounts or send emails, without GANTOB’s prior agreement.
2. The Benefaktor will maintain access to the above forms of kommunikation, but solely as a backup in case anything happens to GANTOB.
3. The Benefaktor and The Foundation Doktor will retrakt the bootleg Curt Finks story (The Twilight Years of Life), posting this in The Benefaktor branded announcements from the GANTOB2023 account on Instagram and X.
4. The Foundation Doktor will produce an image based on The Twilight Years of Life, using competition entries if there is a clear winner by 19 November. She will also animate this using stop motion techniques to share on social media.
5. The Benefaktor will pay for a new book from GANTOB Books. This will be based on the blog – 99 posts (400 words each, except the slightly longer first post), and options for a (genuine) Curt Finks story. The book will be illustrated, in colour, and will be sent to people who have a blog accepted that is based on one or more of the cast of characters previously included in the book, associated pamphlets and paraphernalia, or blog. Either 17 or 23 copies of the book will be printed, depending on the number of applications received. The terms of that competition will be announced separately in early November.

6. GANTOB will ensure that a daily post is made from GANTOB.blog until the end of 2023. This will roughly follow the plot of 2023: A trilogy by The JAMs, but will attempt to be more coherent and believable than that book. If GANTOB is ill or otherwise unable to post she will arrange a deputy to post on her behalf, within these same rules.
7. GANTOB and The Benefaktor will complete the story of their meeting and the circumstances that led to their joint operation, either in blogs that GANTOB will send to The Benefaktor in advance, or in a specially produced pamphlet for a book drop(s).
8. The Benefaktor and GANTOB, and associates, will stop making threats/ attempts on the life of the other.

Signed:

GANTOB and The Benefaktor

5 NOVEMBER 2023

Don’t forget to enter The Foundation Doktor’s competition to win a unique piece of art by GANTOB (inadvertently using TFD’s bootlegged text of an imagined Curt Finks story).

Sitting alone in this unfamiliar coffee shop, watching the clock tick by as The Benefaktor makes prostate-based excuses by text message, I speculate that the clock might strike 13 by the time he re-appears. A more familiar signal marks the hour across Edinburgh and The Benefaktor returns. He has obviously been dabbing the food stains on his fleece. Clean clothes, virtuous life presumably. They simply reinforce the character blemishes.m

We lift and replace our cups like chess pieces, but so exposed on a bare wooden table I cannot see any smart moves for The Benefaktor to gain an advantage. I feel virtuous, powerful. It’s an unfamiliar sensation.

“The blog seems to be….., um, progressing”, he offers.

I sit stony-faced, silent.

“You’ll need to meet The Foundation Doktor”.

Sip.

“I think you’d like her”.

“Anyway, cheers”. He raises his cup.

I make my move. “I thought you were in hospital”.

“Ah, well, that’s my karakter”, he answers, annotating the Ks with his fingers.

“How long were you in for?”

“Me or The Benefaktor?”

“You”.

“That would be telling”, raising an eyebrow that makes me want to give him a proper black eye.  It’s easy to forget that he’s an old man.

I pull out my phone and show him the photo of the most recent delivery, in its snipped chaos. He gazes at it blankly. “And?”

“No idea”, he replies brusquely, without apparent recognition. Poker time.

“And The Foundation Doktor – would she know?”

This time little fluffy clouds appear across his cheeks, reddened by the evening sun. We’ve been sitting for hours, circling. “Ah yes”, he mutters, “I see”.

I wipe my mouth to conceal the bitterness of the end of my matcha tea, ordered to try something different after my earlier drinks. My grimace could be misconstrued. I try to shift the cloying paste between my tongue and roof of my mouth. The travel, caffeine, heat and proximity to The Benefaktor add up to a powerful dyspepsia. I take a slurp of water from the bottle in my bag and resume negotiations.

It is towards the end of these discussions, when it is completely dark outside, that I become aware of the young woman sitting at the end of our communal table. She is holding a book, but does not appear to be reading. She is listening. And she looks vaguely familiar. We finish up and I hurriedly excuse myself.

GANTOB

4 NOVEMBER 2023

Lots has changed in the landscape between Badenoch and Edinburgh in the weeks since my last visit. I have plenty of time to daydream in the bus journey along the A9, from the Dalwhinnie bareness now imposed on the Highlands by another approaching winter, to the end of the autumnal glory of Perthshire. The bus is, as usual, too warm. I manage to take a few notes in my notepad, but my phone is off limits.

Edinburgh is busy. It has also changed. Several phone shops have left Princes Street, and I think about the tech giants who feature so prominently in 2023: A trilogy. Thinks have moved on in the period between that book’s publication (2017) and the year it was attempting to predict: The Old Five, The New Big Five and Nicola Sturgeon. I wouldn’t want to predict next week at the moment. I rack my brains for mention of Elon Musk in 2023: A trilogy, but can’t be sure. He’s something even more unknowable.

As we have seen from the blogs posted around his birthday, The Benefaktor is nothing if not predictable. I sit in the Starbucks at the junction leading down to Carlton Road. The Benefaktor strides past, a curious mix of upright propriety and scruffiness (today he’s wearing jobby catchers and trainers and a food-stained fleece). I have to make two steps to each of his, but I keep up, along Princes Street, preparing to cross and turn up towards the Mound and The Benefaktor’s favoured cultural institutions. He’s clearly not avoiding the Playfair Steps.

I intercept him on the island in the middle, no escape between two trams. Catching sight of me he looks pale but alert. Up close I can see some yellow bruising to his face, but otherwise he appears unharmed. There is no sling or plaster cast, and he holds himself normally. If there is any contrition, he hides it well. We talk above the electric buzz from the trams and agree to head to a coffee shop. I lead him towards one of my favourites the next block along, but it has changed hands. I accept his offer to buy the drinks, and we head upstairs to a quiet corner away from the students and tourists. He asks if I would excuse him for a moment and heads to the toilet. He says that I can trust him to return.

GANTOB

3 NOVEMBER 2023

I am reading about Beastie Boys, looking for a reason why “Curt Finks” might have referenced them in a short story. Perhaps just a signifier of loud noise for an elderly gentleman.

I’m not sure that The KLF sampled Beastie Boys, but The JAMs appear to have been influenced by their sound. A Google search takes me down some blind alleys, but also into some interesting and uncharted (for me anyway) territory. I knew about The JAMs’ use of Beatles samples, and The Beatles themselves splicing their own material up to create new sounds, but not about the Beastie Boys sampling the Fab Four on The Sounds of Science. They end with “Eat a chicken gizzard with a girl named Lizzy”.

My thoughts slip around on connections, landing in unexpected places. I am left with an earworm from the White Album: “Her name was Magill and she called herself Lil/ But everyone knew her as Nancy”.

Ali comes in for lunch and we knock about my current preoccupations. I put on Rocky Raccoon to scratch the Magill-shaped itch, and we talk about nagging doubts about The Foundation Doktor and the trees around Ely Cathedral. Who can we ask to double check the state of their foliage?

Ali starts talking about Bronwyn from Kings Lynn. You may remember her from Curt Finks’ story “Brent Goose Rock”. She is the only person in GANTOB (the book), or associated writing, whose name has been unchanged (with her permission). Ali recalls that Bronwyn’s nickname at school was “The Pig”, on account of the blues band Blodwyn Pig, and her father’s occupation (farmer). But this concealed a more obvious piece of nominal determinism, her maiden name being Gosling, suiting her fulltime job with a bird protection charity on the East Anglian fens. Paul McCartney would no doubt have had a field day with that one.

Ali phones Bronwyn after lunch, and they talk about the recent arrival of thousands of migrating geese, and how much his Dad loved this time of year. Ali explains the reason for his call and settles down for a long chat. A few minutes in, he jots down a note and slides it across the table. “She says the trees locally are in full leaf, though autumnal!!!”. We have the evidence we need to confront The Benefaktor and The Foundation Doktor’s lies. I ready myself for a trip to Edinburgh.

GANTOB

2 NOVEMBER 2023

I have wasted my extra hour today, the end of British Summer Time. Waking at my usual hour, 06:00, I meandered down to my study, doing a couple of the word puzzles that The Benefaktor mentioned in a previous post, and popping on my tea kettle to 80^oC. This far north (Badenoch), dawn is half an hour later than say London at this time of the year. The extra hour gained by putting the clocks back is important, and I relished the ability to do some preparation for this week’s blogs. The Foundation Doktor’s posts on alternate days are also taking the pressure off.

Half the way through my mug (and midway through typing up my planned blog) I heard a noise from the porch. I wondered initially if we had shut one the cats in the porch, but quickly discounted that because I had both on my knee after their competitively gobbled breakfast. They shifted grudgingly in anticipation as I moved to go through to investigate. On the flagstone floor lay a long thin white letter envelope. It was not stamped or franked, but had the following words typed directly onto the paper:

‘Newly discovered Curt Finks story.

292 words in story (including title).

107 words in covering “letter”.

Use in any order you like (all 399 words) to create your own short story.’

I felt the envelope, noting the characteristic bulge at the bottom corner. I opened it carefully, with tray at the ready, to catch the neatly chopped pieces of paper. Each snip had a word on one side, but no number on the reverse. I sifted through them looking for a pattern, noting some apparently highlighted snips. This was going to take some reconstructing.

After breakfast, Ali joined me. He mansplained the lack of a postal service on a Sunday (as I knew he would) and attempted to find a quick answer to the puzzle (which I knew he wouldn’t). He sauntered off, defeated, to ready himself for the day’s service. I tinkered around, blog forgotten, until around 10:40 GMT (service forgotten). I would be in trouble. I had established that there were indeed 399 snips, and took a photo.

I’m posting this under my pew, and set you this challenge:

Produce a coherent story from these 399 words, by 23:23 on 19 November for a chance to win a related original artwork by yours truly.

GANTOB

29 October 2023

Help me find the most plausible use of these words. Email your entry (one per household) to 100percentvinyl2@gmail.com or direct message me on Instagram or Twitter(X): @GANTOB2023. Entries must be typed, in the body of the message or in a standard word processor format. No late entries accepted – closes at 23:23 on 19 November (your timezone). Use all 399 words and no more. Choose your own punctuation and add or drop capitals as required. Please include your full name and postal address. The artwork sent to the winner (one prize only, winner chosen by GANTOB) will be unframed, A4 size, produced from printer paper and Pritt stick on 300g/m² hot pressed grain satine paper. A stop-motion animation of the artwork will also be dedicated to the winner in due course.

*** CHECK OUT THE UPDATED RULES (AFTER THE FOUNDATION DOKTOR’S APOLOGY 5 NOVEMBER 2023) ***