Ramblings of a Misguided Squirrel

~Musings on Life from a Squirrel and her resident Umpa Lumpa~

Will you look at that. Fandoms ruin my life, AGAIN!

on May 1, 2014

Well hey there.


I dedicate this post to Eleanor, since she is the reason for it happening in the first place and it’s really pretty much solely directed at her.


But regardless, I’m (kinda) back!

From the depths of my recently re-instated Good Omens obsession.


So, back story!

GO has always been one of my favourite books, and fairly recently I leant it to the aforementioned Eleanor to read (before re-reading it myself, because really? Knowing the book? Who wouldn’t?) and since she loved it and I had rediscovered it’s magnificence, there has been somewhat of a downward spiral of discussion and fangirling going on – my endless apologies to the rest of my friends, particularly Elly, who has really no idea what’s going on.


Now, Good Omens synopsis time!

So, from the back of the book:


According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world’s only completely accurate book of prophecies), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday in fact. Just after tea …


So anyway it is this incredible book about a variety of things that is actually really hard to describe when you try, but stars, among others, Aziraphale (An Angel, or Principality) and Crowley (an Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards). They are amazing. (And lend themselves brilliantly to Supernatural crossovers …. but anyway). ‘Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions:

  1. that he was English,
  2. that he was intelligent, and
  3. that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.’

Crowley, on the other hand, well. ‘Crowley had dark hair, and good cheekbones, and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue. And, whenever he forgot himself, he had a tendency to hiss.

He also didn’t blink much.’

Well regardless, they are fabulous and impossible not to ship, especially since they constantly refer to each other as ‘dear’ and ‘angel’ respectively.

And it’s written by Neil Gaimen and Terry Pratchett, both of whom are amazing authors.

And it is just one of my all time favourite books, and I’m currently trying incredibly hard (and failing) to keep it out of my English assessment. It really isn’t helping that we’re currently studying ‘Heaven, Hell and Purgatory’ in R.E. The amount of Supernatural and Good Omens I am having to push out of my head!

Well the point of this post was to send these three pieces of music that just constantly remind me of Crowley and Aziraphale (I mean there are others. SO. MANY. OTHERS. But these three matched the mood at the time.) to Eleanor. So, without further ado, the first of our pieces (with a quote! From their very last appearance in the book.):

They went to the Ritz again […]. And, […] for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.


That certain night, the night we met 
There was magic abroad in the air 
There were angels dining at the Ritz 
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square 




Also then there was this, which applies to them as a unit really, not so much one to the other and kind of made me sad and happy at the same time (E-nor: cos of the Purgatory thing? HOW LONG MUST I BE HUNG UP ON THAT?!)

This is also Supernatural applicable, which makes it doubly sad.


And then there’s this, and I’m not sure where it fits except that it popped into my head whilst I was finding these and I couldn’t take it out, so if anybody can rationalise it, I owe them!


Well I think that’s it for now.


So there you are Eleanor! Supernatural/Good Omens feels and random perfection.


If I find more, you can have them.


For everyone else, I would 100% recommend this beyond-belief book.


Although your life will be ruined.


Apparently there’s a copy in the Vatican Library. It’d be nice to think so.


It is incredibly dear to me, and I do treasure the increasing beat-up-ness of my copy.


Although Arizaphale is forcing me to say ‘dear’ near-constantly.


And I am turning into an eclectic mix of Aziraphale and Crowley.


But hey – ineffable, eh?




Well then. In the style of Crowley, Flash Bastard and Serpent of Eden,







P.S. A boy asked me out. I said no. More details next time?




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