toadstooltales

Next week's schedule is going to be very busy. I have spent much of today organising next week's projects. On Monday I am working in a group of artists,making sketches at one of our local theatres. My follow-up task will be to choose selected sketches to paint up. Lots of focussed work with creative juices primed and ready.
On Tuesday, I catch up with business work, and do my usual parchment runs in the nearby towns. Wednesday finds me helping in the new Charity Shop where I am in charge of the parchment marketing, Thursday finds me at the Faery Physio and the Community Radio Station, and then we are back to Friday again. Maybe I'll get some me time then, but it's more likely I'll be catching up with toadstool tidying, garment laundering and garden development.
It is good to be busy, especially when I love all the things I am actively involved with.................
Working at the Charity Shop arose out of the blue. You will all remember how much I loved the charity project run by the Ladies of Mercy, and was broken hearted upon its demise. However it has performed the old phoenix trick of rising from its own ashes, bigger, better and in new premises.
Way back in May,it was announced in the Daily Scandal , our local broadsheet, that the Charity had found a new home, and would be requiring new volunteers. Some of the former volunteers were quite elderly, nay, even quite ancient in fact, and they felt they could not undertake a new enterprise, so the door was open for me to sweet talk my way into a much cherished role as Parchment Coordinator. I do other tasks as well, but sorting and pricing the myriads of parchments handed in, takes much time and patience. It is a task close to my heart, though, and I feel that this is a skill I have to offer.
I have made many new elven friends, and met many differing types of elven folk on both sides of the counter. Some quite astoundingly magnificent in their commitment to their Charity posts; some quite outstandingly notable by their strangeness, their thrawn demeanour, or their obvious ability to "create a storm in an empty toadstool."

"There's nowt queer as folk", especially woodland folk , and the infinite complexity of their range of odd behaviours, is fascinating to observers of the populace as myself.
Pendragon delights in my Wednesday tales of things seen and done in the name of good works. But life at Dingley Dell Academy , with its own peculiar band of denizens has fitted me well to observe the rich tapestry of beleaguered souls presented to me mid-week.
I spent the afternoon looking out and organising my art materials for Monday, then ventured into the gardens front and back to continue planting out our winter display.
The new paving in our front garden makes it look bigger. I have only started potting up the new pots,but the four now ready do look stunning. Pendragon phoned me twice when I was out there - once to tell me he has found a goblin tiler to complete our bathroom makeover, and secondly just to determine how I was, and to wish me telephone hugs and kisses before he started his overnight shift at the Metropolis Infirmary. I miss him on Fridays. No one opening the door at seven and calling my name; no one telling me how fine his supper was; and no one to cuddle up to after lights out.
He will be home tomorrow.
I was knee deep in flowering winter pansies, when I heard a snigger from behind. I knew before he spoke, whom it would be. Shilpit Senior ,the goblin from number 3. I didn't look round ,hoping he would just take my silence for absorption in my task. But no- silence just seems to incite him to further menace.

"Is that you working on your little garden ?" he said. He laid special emphasis on the words " working " and "little", and on both occasions it was with a derogatory sneer.
I turned ."Yes, it's very little I said." But small and beautifully formed."
He turned his back to me. "Oooh, he said, just like yourself, eh ?"
I didn't answer him this time. He always had to have the last word, and it was always carved out to be slightly demeaning. I continued with my dibber and spade, and when I looked round discreetly a few minutes later he had gone. I couldn't enjoy my relief for it was immediately followed by a flashback of our last encounter. The Fearless Faery and I had been enjoying a mid-morning chat across the fence, when the sniggering voice from number three interrupted us. He did not wait for us to offer any reply but immediately went into a gormless tirade as to why Pendragon and I were dollarts to have paved our front garden, plus a treatise on how the workmen had undertaken the work, a blur of technicalities neither of us wanted to hear, and then completed his pontification by stating that he would never have had THAT paving, ever.

"It's not your garden," I said."You don't have to have it. But we do want it, it's our garden,we love it, and that's what matters."

He just stared at me , aghast that I had had the audacity to answer him. That was not what he had expected. He quietened to a peep for a few seconds, then finished by adding, "You've got the best garden now. It used to be mine, but it'll be you now."
I turned back to my planting. It had completely missed his goblin sensabilities that maybe that was not important to us. We were not in a race to bypass the Shilpits. We just wanted to be enjoying a lovely garden space.
He sidled off towards his front door, banging it shut as he entered.
It would have been easy to counter his nonsense with equal insults but to what end.
The Shilpits have problems of their own a-plenty, no need for me to exacerbate them.
Tomorrow, I have to spend a little time at the Charity shop tidying my parchment empire. There will be lots of time to complete the morning with lunch at the Buttercup Bistro, and a meander round the Dingley Dell Used Parchment Emporium.
Later,Pendragon will make a stunning supper, and we'll talk till the night falls.
On Sunday, I have calls to make on the woodland phone to catch up with Piccallilli Peasegood, and old friend Revillatta Windspa.
I'd better leave a good part of the day free for that, as such calls can eat up a whole afternoon. Pendragon usually punctuates these get-togethers with at least a couple of acorn coffees delivered to my perch in the Blue Room.

May your Saturday find you busy with your favourite things, my friends, and Sunday take you to your favourite spots. May a weekend of warmth and harmony be yours.
From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery, from number five.

Pendragon was awake and threatening tea and toast very early this morning. He had some time off today and was going to devote it to fence adornment. We have been working very hard to upgrade our gardens front and back, as we enjoy growing things so much. In the back space, we are retrieving a much overgrown growing space, and have renewed all the fences and the paving. Never ones for bland beech or murky mahogany, we have chosen to paint all our back fences in a glorious bluebell blue. Very cheering no matter the time of year, it seems to enhance the plant and flower colours, and even on the cold days,gives a semblance of warmth and real beauty.
I crawled out of bed (after the obligatory tea and toast )to find him already started on the fence, and with half the work completed. Still a little groggy, I staggered through the usual early morning personal health and beauty chores, had a rushed breakfast of corn flakes and fresh soya milk, before planting a firm farewell kiss on Pendragon's cheek . I left him to his painting while I headed off to complete a few postal tasks, and a morning session at the Community Radio Network in Dingley Dell.
Gerromica Dieselgorff can't make it in today, so I have been summoned to fill the 11-2 pm slot. I am not sure if her listeners will feel that I am filling her slot, as she has a strongly classical feel to her show (all lyres and lutes ), whereas I use a more eclectic approach to both the music and the chat. Working at the Community Station is always a joy,every show I do is a new work of art, and I can never say no to any additional shows offered to me.

We have moved to new premises , with state of the art audio equipment, and refurbished studios, so working there has never been more enticing.
Luck and some interested wealthy well-wishers have combined to provide the necessary geld to re-set the station to such a quality to ensure its long term future.
I do Mondays mid-morning, plus the temporary Thursday spot (Gerromica may be some time in returning, I heard today ) should satisfy my lust for broadcasting to the elven masses for some time to come.
My four -wheeled motor vehicle was stacked on front and back seats with paraphernalia for my show. More seemed better than less as I was going to be working at short notice.
Indeed the showtime passed very quickly as it happened, and at 2.00pm, the presenter following me put his perky head round the door and whispered hello. I was just signing off, so we exchanged some light banter, and I packed my large clutter of materials once again.
Dimpo Flibbersnip is quite a lively fellow, but not really one of my favourite presenters. He is not the ideal person to be passing on your show to. He makes patronising remarks, and slightly insulting comments about your musical choices, and you are never sure whether he has made them seriously, or whether your listeners have taken them seriously.
I shall have to grin and bear it while I do my Thursday stint , but it won't be pretty and it won't be easy.

Lunchtime had passed when I left the studio, but I found some carrot soup still on the menu at the staff canteen, and eked it out with a wheatberry roll with almond butter.A little wizened elven crone was on serving duty, and despite her clear lack of competence with anything culinary, she did finally present me with something hot and carroty.
This gave me sufficient strength to get back on the road and head for my old toadstool home in downtown Thyros. I am decorating it at the moment and preparing it to become my new office and storage premises for my used parchment business. Our toadstool home has become rather cramped trying to maintain storage for the myriad of stock I now have, so Pendi and I have made an executive decision to use my former home as an ideal substitute. It is starting to look ready for transfer of the business equipment. I shall still retain some workspace at home in my Blue Room, as I work from my e-mail box quite a lot there too. But Thyros is very close by, so I shall ultimately spend time working in both places as it suits.
Tomorrow will also be busy I fear, as I have a further early trip to Brigantia to visit the Geldmeister, and in the afternoon I am booked in for an afternoon stint at our new Dingley Dell Charity shop. So much to do !
But I shall tell you more tomorrow. I have some root mash to make for Pendi's dinner ( what, more carrots !) and a country pie to make.
Roasted peppers and broccoli on the side, and a glass of dark berry wine to wash it down. He is such a lucky man. Radio presenter, entrepreneur , charity worker, stunning home cook,- is there any beginning to my talents ?

Till I return to my e-mail box to speak to you all of Friday's delights,
may the sun shine on as it did today. Be sure to be home before the night falls, and the cold wind gathers.
Love and fresh parsnips to you all.
From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery, and a cast of thousands in Lobelia Drive.

Rain has rather devastated my plans today. I woke to the joint sounds of rain bombarding our bedroom window and Pendragon whistling one of his favourite tunes, as he mashed my early morning cup of rooibos and vanilla tea. He brought it up to me, along with a perfectly toasted and buttered piece of rye sourdough bread, pecked my sleepy cheek,wished me a wonderful day, and then strolled downstairs to head off for the tram to Metropolis. I did eventually rise , but was slow to bathe and re - organise my day.
I carried out some paperwork,necessary to my used parchment business,washed a few of Pendi's smalls, watched the rain lashing further on to our front garden, dried a few of Pendi's smalls, then reached for my waterproof overtunic,determined to seek at least some of the day in the outside world. You can see that the stunning pace of my day was driving me to seek a little elven interaction, or at the very least to view the rest of the Dingley Dell populace from a soggy distance.
I had a few stores to collect from the supermercantile and the drive to and fro , woke me up to almost being fully conscious .
I hate days such as these , when I struggle to achieve the most from them. There are so many tasks in hand, and I have so many projects seeking completion.
My new life as Pendragon's wife is making me very contented and happy. Pendi makes me happy, so aware is he of the stuff of life which makes my world go round. He always wants the best for me, and for me to make the best of myself in every corner of my interests.
Our wedding day , on the 30th May, seems a long time ago now. It was such a special day. The sun shone all day, and the ceremony took place in the sunshine ,under a bower of green leafy trees. We had twenty -five guests, either friends or family, there with us to witness our ceremony, and join us for a luxury feast afterwards.
Pendragon looked stylish in his dark tunic and hose. My made-to-measure burgundy gown dazzled in the summer light, and my bespoke headwear, laden with handmade flowers was to prove a major talking point.
We were so happy, no visible nerves at all. Queen Brighid the Bright delivered the vows for us to confirm, and a stunning personal address which we will remember always. Behind us our company of well-wishers, clapped and cheered at the giving of the ring, and the first kiss.

When the rain stops I shall venture out to our front porch to check that our winter pansy plants have survived the deluge.Autumn is pushing its rusty nose through the door, chilly winds have begun to blow across the Big Water, and smart cloaks and woolly tunics are beginning to replace the lacey weeds of summertime.

Time to rustle through your recipe sheets for your damson and blackcurrant recipes, my dear friends, to begin the baking of bread for warmer, more filling meals, and to watch the landscape turn from silver and golden glow to russet ,ochre and orange twill. It is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and we must all rise to the celebration of cooler climes.

May the last few days of summer sun be yours ,unhampered by the showers of this day. Long,windy scarves, and soft, knitted wrap-me-ups are only a whisker away.
From Amarantha, Mrs. Willow,the Rainbow Faery, matriarch and keeper of toadstool number 5. More from the toadstool tomorrow.

Just married, this Saturday past, surrounded by Family and friends. A day to remember, to revisit whenever the clouds are grey. We holiday in the principality of Feranche for ten sunny days. When we return, further tales from the toadstool will unfold.

Till then, dear friends, may the kiss of sunshine alight on your waking hours, and your days be noted by your earnest endeavours and blissful leisurely interludes.

From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery, mistress of the fifth toadstool to the left in Lobelia Drive.

Dingley Dell has cast off most of its winter weeds and today was bathed in sunshine. Bright blue warm sky was punctuated liberally with white puffy clouds and wherever we walked the heat of the new day followed us.
I have had another busy working week, selling new and used parchments to allcomers, and only found small pockets of time to rest, relax and celebrate my working freedom this week.
Pendragon was working into the early hours at Metropolis Infirmary last night, so I spent a lonesome Good Friday house cleaning, garden weeding, and reviewing our wedding arrangements.
I got lots done, but I do miss Pendragon when he is away. His sunny smile, his even temparent and his endless ability to encourage and see the best in me, were glaringly absent from our house ambience.
This week was littered with appointmnets. On Tuesday the Faery Seamstress
arried out her penultimate fitting of my bridal gown. It is so beautiful, and fits my elven frame so perfectly. My maid of honour, Catalysta, came with me to have her fitting ,and to make pertinent comments on the style and progress of my gown.
We shared a happy lunchhour in a sidestreet bistro before making our way down Dassunda Row to Seamstress Teggamarra's studio.
She is such a lovely person and her talents in gown design are manifold. Catalysta and I left an hour later feeling confident in how we are to look on Betrothal Day.We found an art gallery and teashop on our way back to the tram, where we shared our thoughts and contentment with Teggemarra's work to the accompaniment of two acorn lattes and a large chunk of pear and frangipani tartlet.

On Wednesday I met Pendragon in the High Street of Dingley Dell. He threw his arms around me, gave me a Pendragon sized hug, and we sought a quick lunch at the Buttercup Bistro.We were to seek an audience an hour later with one of Dingley Dell's wedding officials to rummage through our paperwork. We ordered soup and wheat-free brown rolls,and chatted gaily, one to the other. It was only as we scraped our lentil broth bowls clean that I noticed Aristotle, the Boggart boy, leaning forward on the food counter, to catch a closer look at my companion. Oh, dear, I thought, first of all,- Aristotle clearly hasn't thought that there might be a Mr. Rainbow Faery. Secondly I thought,- oh good, at last he will realise there is no longer any purpose in carrying around a crush for me as large as his maiden Auntie Jessamine.
He did look miffed,and kept scrubbing at the same spot on the glass counter so he could maintain a clear vantage point to monitor the happenings at table Willow. He twice passed our table on his way to delivering lunches to other diners,and on both occasions bumped Pendragon's chair quite hard before apologising profusely to him,then looking at me for some sign of recognition. I just kept my head down. I didn't want Aristotle's pathetic langouring to invade the peace and happiness of my day.
Pendragon surveyed Aristotle quizically at the second bumping,then purposely moved his chair permanently out of the Boggart boy's path.
"I think he's got it bad", was all he said,throwing me an amused glance,then laughing to himself quietly.
I just wanted to stand up and say, "Aristotle ! Stop this foolishness now ! " I am much too mature and sophisticated to be your companion at the teentime boggart allnight raves. Believe me , you'd be less than keen if you saw how I disintegrate after midnight.!"

But I didn't. I just hoped he would see sense when he was finally alone ,and able to contemplate what he had seen at the lunchtime service.
Pendragon finally put the seal on things,by waiting for my return from paying for our meal, then confidently throwing his arma around me and planting a Pendragon sized kiss on my elven scarlet lips.
I melted in his arms. I laughed at his sudden show of affection. I could hear the muffled giggles from the bistro waitresses behind us,but did not dare look in Aristotle's direction. Hopefully the die was cast and Pendragon's timely show of possession would be enough to wake him up from his delusional love mist and send him scurrying back to seeking after pixies of his own age.
We left and I didn't look back. Pendragon is a very wise man. He knew what was required . A simple show of dominance and territorialism from one elven male to another, was enough to bring protocols back to the norm.

We hope.

On Thursday I went parchment hunting in Brigantia. A wild and windy day, but it kept me moving from one treasure trove to another. I was standing in the middle of the main pedestrianised walkway, when I heard a scream of recognition. Not just a scream, but someone behind me actually laid hands on me and turned me around. It was Revillatta. Revillatta Windspa. My dearest friend of many years, but someone I have not met up with for quite some time.

"Amarantha !" she called again with a smile.
"Revillatta!" I called back, and we just hugged. we went for coffees,and talked well into the afternoon. Previous plans took flight,but the afternoon felt really worthwhile in her company,reminiscing, exchanging news,and meeting her new pixie grandson Sligo.
Revillatta and I will always be friends ,even though life's happenings separate us for long periods. In coming together the in-between years just fade into insignificance and we take up friendship together instantly. We danced together once in our theatrical histories, saw each other through ilnesses, family trials, and work successes. We are true friends. And now she is coming to my Betrothal Ceremony in May, to wish me well again. How wonderful.! How complete !

Tomorrow is Eastering Sunday. We hope for a long walk, one of Pendragon's fine dinners, a host of garden planting, and some letter writing in the SunRoom. I hope,my dear friends,that Eastering weekend is bringing you sunshine and as many flowers as you would wish.
Tulips and narcissi abounding, pansies and geraniums to the fore.
More tales from the fifth toadstool to the left - very,very soon.

From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Finding time to write to all of you, my dear friends , has been difficult in the last few weeks. Partly due to having lots of betrothal tasks to do, to having social engagements in the afternoons on more days than I think is really good for me, to a rapidly expanding used parchment business, and to having a small resurgence of my problem with my favourite writing hand due to repetitive strain injury.
I have tried to leave time everyday to achieve some epistolary work,but there have been too many outstanding tasks and too little time left to complete them. So I do have lots to tell you and I will have to take a few sessions to catch up with you as the Faery Physio is only allowing me a very short time each day to prattle on my electronic box, as she says I need to rest my left writing paw.

Pendragon and I are in the midst of our final preparations for our May Betrothal Ceremony. The Faery Seamstress has almost completed my dress. I see the final version on Tuesday 7th. My headdress is being made by Gribbgea the Embroidress. I should see that too on the 7th. She is designing it from scratch,and I have no idea what form it will take. It will be red, and sumptuous, though.
I have visited the place where our ceremony and feast will take place, and returned overwhelmed by the beauty and aura of the setting. Set in acres of countryside, wildlife come and go as you wander through, and inside each room ,the palatial nature of each strives to outdo the one next door.
We are going to have such a lovely time, and a wonderful day, I know we are. Surrounded by friends and family, we will take our vows in the Garden Orangerie, and feast afterwards in the Rennaissance Atrium.

I have ordered our invitations, special favours, some pretty cupcakes and have only the floral decorations to decide upon. Lots of white and red, I feel, will enhance our dining experience. I have booked my appointments with the Faery Beautician, who will be perfecting my hair ,face, eyebrows and nails on the day. So exciting, and only nine weeks to wait.

All is well within the neighbourhood,although we have not seen lots of our neighbours recently. They are only now beginning to reappear from within their toadstools, after a long cold winter in Dingley Dell. The coldest for many a year.

The Fearless Faery is still giving us cause for concern. I emerged from my four wheeled motor carriage yesterday to find her outside in her garden with her wildebeest, Daisy. I spoke cheerily to her as I teetered up the path,laden with supermercantile bags.
As I got nearer to her though I realised that she was not going to look me in the eye. She spoke to me with her head down,and seemed to be hanging on to Daisy to hold her up. She had been imbibing the fruits of the alcoholic beverage it appeared, and was distinctly the worse for wear at four oclock in the afternoon. She had just emerged from her own four wheeled motor carriage, and had been driving three sheets to the wind.

I could not bring myself to taint our friendship by mentioning my concerns . I don't think my opinion would stop her, and maybe I can help at some point, when she wants help. Pendragon just shakes his tawny head when I tell him. It is very difficult to know what to do or what to offer. I just hope she stops sometime soon.

The Shilpits at number three have been very elusive for the last few weeks. Bu they are back. Wally spoke to me earlier today as he passed our garden. He is always very polite(quite unusual for a Shilpit) and willing to offer help at every available opportunity.

His brother Oggie only offers a scowl. Dad Shilpit has been almost invisible during February and March. No doubt when he sees us breaking sweat in our little toadstool garden ,weeding and planting, he will emerge to give us his untimely and unrequested advice. A goblin with only slabs wall to wall can hardly be expected to offer pearls of wisdom on the subject of rhododendrons and wisteria.

I spent the morning in Brigantia today,tracking down parchments,and sharing coffee time with friends. I came back with my motor carriage loaded just as the rain began to patter on the daffodil heads lining our front pathway.
I love watching the vagaries of the weather,-from inside only , looking out.It is raining again, and the blue has long since left the sky. Grey clouds promise we will be wet throughout the weekend.
Pendragon is hving a roast dinner tonight. Roast salmon, roast vegetables and small roast potatoes. I will welcome him home,feed him, then cuddle up to watch my favourite Faery Soaps with him on our leather settee.
We are a happy pairing, my dearest chums.Remember that now Spring has come, you must remember to push your time pieces forward one whole hour this weekend. On Saturday night, so they say. Wally our house cuckoo is already looking very smug at the thought that he will have to stumble out and mark the passage of time once less than is customary.
March fever is now about to give way to some April tomfoolery and we can only hope that we can carry this out in temperatures of at least double figures.

Tomorrow I'll tell my tale of garden groupies, postal petulance and Daily Scandal "scandal".

Till then,take care, and much love to you and yours.
Fom Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Pendragon was up at seven of the clock today. and I hid warm and cosy under the covers until he appeared with a steaming cup of acorn tea and a bright good morning. I got up quickly,as I had promised myself a day off today. Free from work, I was going to travel and take in some of the sights of two of the neighbouring villages,stopping for lunch at one and parchment hunting at the second. I intended to set out after Dilly Gumm had been to clean the toadstool floors. She always does the floors first on Thursdays and completes her weekly cleaning schedule with a massive toadstool dust around ,and a cleaning flourish to the bath and toilet.
She always arrives at exactly one minute to nine, but at quarter past her stout brown brogues had not touched down on our path and I began to worry. I was just about to rummage through my busy diary for her woodland phone number when my own lounge telephone almost rang itself off its cordless base.
It was Dilly,strangely quiet and staunchly resolute.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Willow, but I can't come this morning. I'm really sorry,I know you are expecting me, but I can't come. It's my oldest girl, a bit of a crisis, I'm afraid. I need to go. I'll see you on Monday. "

"Nothing too bad, I hope," I said cheerily."Is she ill, Dilly ?"
I had just let the Dilly escape from my lips when the line purred and went dead. I don't know whether she heard my enquiry or not, or she didn't want to elaborate further, but she was gone as quickly as she had dialled, leaving me barely any the wiser.
Wally the house cuckoo reminded me it was half past nine with the dainty tapping of his boots as he popped in and out of his little chalet home.

Still reeling from the call from Dilly, and still trying to work out whatever was the matter, I collected my waterproof longcoat and tied on my lacing slipperettes. The view from our front window caught my eye.

It was snowing and snowing hard. Not tiny light flakes of decorative fluff, but large conjoined pieces of battle-trained ice,intent on reaching earth as quickly as possible and covering ground thick and fast.
I could tell it was not going to stop any minute soon,so I took off my coat and settled down on our beige leather settee to ponder the trials and tribulations of Dilly.

Whatever was wrong, she clearly had not decided to confide it yet. Maybe she wouldn't,I would have to wait and see how the story unfolded. If she called in sick on Monday, I would have to be strong and ask her outright what was on her mind.
Pendragon had had nothing to report when I had asked him last night if the Gumm household was ok. He looked surprised, said he had seen Dilly's husband that day, and he had been full of bonhomie and witty remarks about the state of the clematis in the hospital front gardens. He promised to keep his elven pointy ones close to the ground as he is fond of the Gumms too.

At two the snow storm had started to abate. I dressed for the cold weather and set off to walk down to the village.The day had started to thaw a little and the walk was pleasant and unhampered by the slush lying in pools on the roadway to Dingley Dell.
I walked all the faster to reach the Buttercup Bistro to get a warm cuppa and a bowl of pea and mint potage before I shopped for supplies at the supermercantile. The bistro was quiet and I got the full attention of the waitress Reggatta when making my order. I was just paying for my gastronomic delights and smiling to Reggatta when I noticed a figure observing my every move from the back of the kitchen .

It was the boggart boy who had been working there over the summer time.
I had not seen him for a few weeks and thought he had left, thankfully, as it appeared he had developed an unwanted crush on my compact little person. I could not move without his attentios in June and July, and it
had left me feeling that I didn't want to lunch at my favourite bistro while he was there.

He was back. Ginger hair, bottle top glasses and his neat black apron tied tightly around his waist. And smiling ,yes smiling, at me from afar.

It was too late to scurry out of the door. I had paid for my lunch, and Reggatta was about to plate up my soup and butter my bread. I turned politely away, and looked around for the furthest away seat. I had just reached my seat and placed myself carefully with my back to the counter,when a large black shape descended merely two feet away. I looked up to find Aristotle the boggart boy wiping down my table and leering at me all the while. I smiled helplessly back and remembering the parchment in my bag,reached down and pulled it out. It would provide some cover as I pretended to read intently from somewhere in the middle of the text.
He was still wiping, wiping and looking, and smiling, yes smiling at me.
"That's fine ,thank you," I said,trying not to be too harsh,but praying he would desist and go.

"It's a terrible day,isn't it ? " he mumbled awkwardly,shoving his dirty cloth in his clean and tidy pocket, and still smiling. "Is that a good story you are reading ?"

I could see he was trying to develop something called a conversation,and it had to stop.I saw Reggatta approaching with my hot soup and bran roll and called out gaily "Over here,that's right,and I am so looking forward to it".

As she laid out my lunch on the table I engaged her in avid discussion about everything I could think of, children, working, weather, holidays, plants, springtime, deckchairs - did I really get desperate enough to talk about deckchairs ? She must have thought I was like a chinchilla on heat, so quickly did I race from one topic to the next.
But it did have the desired effect. I saw in the corner of my eye,as Reggatta and I talked rhododendrons ,the boggart boy slink away to the back of the counter to turn his attentions to making salad sandwiches rather than making hay with me.

I have to confess to not knowing whence this attraction developed. The only words we have ever exchanged have concerned baked potatoes and tuna mayonnaise. And whether the scones are mnade from wholemeal flour .
Not exactly poetry to turn heads.

I ate my meal, ensuring my head stayed low, allowing no opportunity for our eyes to meet across a crowded bistro .I waited for him to be sent to the stockroom at the back ,giving me a small window to rise and pay for my meal, and leave.

I'll have to find a new lunch spot. I can't digest properly with two small black eyes trained on my every spoonful. Pendragon thinks its funny and has urged me to remember when I was young. Did I never have a crush on anyone ?
I suppose I did. But I never tried to do anything about it. I never let the object of my affections know they were held in such loving esteem.And I never fell for someone old enough to be my father's best friend. Aristotle the boggart boy needs a new interest, preferably one whose age has barely reached double figures and a half.

Tomorrow I journey to Brigantia to check my toadstool property there, do a parchment run and meet with the faery beautician to have my face exfoliated and my eyebrows waxed into regimental condition.
A chance to lie down in a darkened room and contemplate the events of the nest few months ahead. A marriage, a birthing day and a splendidly exciting two weeks painting by the sea.

More of these later, my dear stoic companions. Wrap yourselves up in your warmest woollies,pull on your knitted long socks to reach to the knees, and check that your underpinnings are made of thermolactyl lace (ladies only)and equal to the torrents outside.

I will speak to you all again tomorrow. From Amarantha Willow, near femme fatale, and counsellor to the worried and perennially beleaguered.
Have a frisky, fanciful Friday, from all at number five toadstool - Flowerpot Cottage, Lobelia Drive, Dingley Dell.

I have had quite a slow day today really. Under threat from precipitation, snow falls and occasional thunder, I have had a working day,organising my catalogues and boxing up my parchments properly,so they can be found at the drop of an order into my electronic box. Occasionally staring out of the window , to understand better where the rest of my small world is today, and seeing no one, led me to believe that everyone had decided to stay indoors,just like me. It has gone back to being cold again and I resent that - deeply.

I received a call quite early from the Faery Milliner to tell me that she wants to meet with me to discuss how my hair will be on my Betrothal Day, and to make a start on designing my headware, a stunning attifet,in burgundy and white, with sumptuous trimmings. I have been quite excited since. We are to meet next Thursday to begin the creative process.

Someone who wasn't looking very excited yesterday was my cleaning operative, Dilly Gumm. For two weeks now she has presented a picture of abject despair and careworn demeanour that I am beside myself knowing what to do to help. I plied her with tea and buns half way through her cleaning schedule,but even my witty repartee on the subjects of errant children and the vagaries of village life raised ne'er a smile or even a look of passing interest. At one point there was just a silence between us,me not knowing whether to break it,or what to break it with, and she just looking into my gaily spotted china teacup as though her heart might break at any moment. I sipped my tea as quietly as I could, praying for inspiration,or that one tiny word that would allow me behind the mask and into Dilly's inner world. Only to help. I value Dilly, I care about her , and her little family. She was so helpful when I had my accident before the Winter Solstice, went several extra miles to give a hand, just because in Dilly's world - that is the thing to do.
And now ,when I feel she has some terrible worry preying on her mind, I don't know how to reach her,and make it better.
"More tea" was all I could come out with,and in a squeak at that.
"I'd better get on," was all she mumbled back,laying down her half empty cup and heading for the kitchen.
I heard the pots clatter,and the sound of bustle in the kitchen,putting up the barriers for the moment to our having that all important exchange of information.

When Wally our house cuckoo came out for a prance at twelve, she collected her old woollen coat from the hall ,popped her head round the living room door ,carefully avoiding my gaze, and said in a strained but bright voice,"That's me done, Ms. Willow. I'll see you Thursday".

The voice was brighter, but the tell tale red marks above her cheekbones told me that she had shed a few solitary tears over the bedmaking upstairs. I could hold back no longer.

"Dilly, what's the matter ? Maybe I can help ? "

She looked at me with surprise,like a frightened rabbit caught foraging in the cabbage patch.
"Not today, Ms. Willow. I can't talk about it today. I'll see you on Thursday".
And with that ,she scurried down the path,not looking back,incase I chose to follow, or by lingering,she should give more away.

Poor Dilly. Not just suffering but keeping it to herself,like the tidy little brownie she is .

Dear Dilly. She must be helped. On Thursday I will speak with her, and I will open that door so that she can share her woes with someone else.

I must ask Pendragon if he knows of any grief occurring in Dilly's family network. Her husband works on the caretaking staff at Metropolis Hospital - Pendragon sees him regularly as he goes through the day .Pendi has such a feel for healing the unquiet spirit that I am sure he will have noticed if anything is afoot.

Tomorrow I visit the Faery Physio for more exercises,chosen to bring my muscle strength up to speed. I am almost one hundred per cent better,but occasionally my right leg decides to be difficult and tires easily.
I am also going to fit in an extra radio show in the afternoon, as Brinkus Hottenscotch is away on a one day break ,and he stipulated that my dulcet tones and knowledge of his kind of music were the only suitable replacements he could recommend.
I am truly flattered.

Take care, my rosey-cheeked comrades, to step lightly where the muddy paths wander. Slipping on an icy,mucky roadway now will leave you bruised to the bone and wet as a kipper.

From Amarantha Willow, the toadstool sylph, and all who abide in Flowerpot Cottage, 5 Lobelia Drive .

The first of March has arrived. We welcomed it in this morning with a happy smile and a nod of expectation but sadly it came accompanied by a hail of rain and a sharp wind.I stood with my tiny graceful elven nose pressed to the kitchen window, a large pile of wet vestments under my arm,waiting for the dampness to change into an aura of blue sky and white fluffy cumulo nimbi, but the rain,it just kept lashing,undaunted and unhindered by the hopes and wishes of we Dingley Dell opportunists. So I have busied myself with other ploys,most of them catching up on some much needed ordering of our toadstool home. Pendragon doesn't know why I bother on a Sunday.
"Dilly Gumm is here tomorrow" was all he would say as I bustled round tidying our lounge and rearranging the clutter in our kitchen. "I know, I said", hearing him but still determined to go my own sweet way.

Dilly,my weekly cleaning operative, does come tomorrow, but I don't want her to think that the toadstool she turns into a small and neat palace twice per week, is left to go to rack and ruin on the other days. Just a small matter of elven pride, I am afraid, and you'll not change it by insisting on practicality and sound reasoning.
If Dilly does the big things, I owe it to her magnificent stewardship to do the small.
Pendragon and I have spent a quiet weekend, walking yesterday by the shoreline of Dingley, eating one of Pendragon's fine meals in the evening and watching some choice programming on the picture box until late.My red curls hit the pillow at eleven and I listened to Grisander
Ellikor's Hearthclub show before sleeping a deep sleep and resting well.

Today,home tasks done, I've been working in our Blue Room, cataloguing used parchments, wrapping a couple of orders, and planning for my Community Radio Show tomorrow. My favourite part of planning is listening to prospective fine tunes,and writing out possible intros and links. It is a creative chore,and hopefully pays off in terms of continuity as my programme themes unfold.
I am now doing my broadcasting in the mornings. It suits me better,as I seem to be livelier and more inventive in the mornings, and it leaves me free to do my writing or business work in the afternoons.

Everyone here in Lobelia Drive seems to be thriving as far as I can tell. I frequently bump into the Fearless Faery either in Dingley High Street or the Supermercantile on the Hill. We exchange greetings,even a bit of gossip or two, before moving on to complete our shopping elsewhere. She seems to have settled in well, enjoys walking her new dog Daisy, and chats to everyone she encounters as though she has known them a lifetime. She is the source of some juicy local tales,too, as I have discovered. How she finds things out I do not know, but she always seems to have some titbit to exchange about someone you know, which leaves you gobsmacked and baying for more. When I meet her next I must study her conversational techniques. Who knows? Maybe she takes my little snippets ,seriously embellishes them and passes them on to other folk in all their glory. I may be The Femme Fatale of Dingley Dell by now, for all I know.
In my quilted blouson and gardening snugpants(which I am wearing at this very moment,I may add) it would be very hard to convince anyone of my
sensual ways and invincible allure. I am cosy, though.

Pendragon only has eyes for me, whatever I wear. He tells me so, but maybe he just needs his spectacle prescription renewed. He is a very alluring individual himself , especially so in a freshly laundered shirt and his favourite beige moleskin pants.He makes me laugh, he dries up my tears when I am feeling low, and he knows just when to boost my self-esteem when it is in tatters or hanging asunder. That's what all great men do and we love them dearly for it.
When Dilly Gumm comes tomorrow I must ask her for an update on how the family are doing. She seemed a little low herself last Monday afternoon.But she was busy ,and in a hurry to finish her duties to keep an appointment on time, so I said nothing. I'll wait till she has finished mopping the kitchen floor tomorrow before broaching the subject.
She always has a short sit-down after mopping the floor,to catch her breath before moving on to polishing the taps. And I am sure a hot cup of meadowmarsh tea with one of my renowned apple doughnuts will set her up for a good chinwag.

Tomorrow will be busy,that's for sure. Business, radio, laundry, cooking, several chatty calls on the woodland phone - all in all ,a whirlwind of a day .
Take care, my trusty friends ,and don't let the Mad March winds bite you to the bone. A teaspoon or two of Auntie Govina's Myrtle Jelly is all you need to keep you safe from the raging swirls and the ice-cold whips.
I'll speak to you soon.

From Amarantha Willow, devil-may-care and downtown roustabout, the talk of Lobelia Drive, the Rainbow Faery.

I sat in the Apothecary's mercantile tonight at four minutes to five of the clock, awaiting the reception of yet another set of bottles and potions from our goodly medical diagnostician, Jubilation C. Scroat. January and February this year have been marked by cold and dampness unsurpassed in recent years in Dingley Dell. With the frost and ice have come bundles of snowflakes, high screeching winds, and the need to cover up everything from head to toe to evade the onslaught of passing viruses.I haven't always been lucky,and seem to have succumbed more than once to streaming nose ,aching bones,and the raw,red throat. Upper respiratory malady is what Jubilation C. calls it, and full of sympathy for my ailing demeanour he raids his bulging medicine chest for suitable remedies to restore me to a rude state. I have had potions of every colour and consistency, tablets and capsules of dried tincture, rubs and scrubs, linaments and inhalants, and still the thieving malady seems to linger on.
I'll be better in the Spring,it must be just around the corner. The blooming daffodils,beds of crocuses,and dwarf tulips are daring to put their heads and colours out into the heart of the day,trying to prove to all us elven folk that nothing weather wise is as bad as it seems.
I have bought some transitional plants to take us from winter season into the first flush of Spring. Priimroses, pale white crocuses, tiny daffodils for the rockery and some winter flowering pansieswhich will bloom on deep into the days of April and May.
The gardens front and back still wear their darken weeds,but some recent blue skies and sunny outlooks have given them courage to begin their early leafing up.
So there I sat,waiting for my prescription,on a dull white seat , while others passed me by,collecting their own remedies or buying for loved ones at home. The minutes crept by,and I entered a strange solitary reverie,sitting there, somehow forgotten by the passing crowd. I fell to watching this pedestrian traffic clutching their medical forms or grabbing their healing parcels and wondering what was on their minds this February day.
Pinkora Nagalleekie shuffled to the counter ,dear old soul, scrabbling in her overlarge holdall when she got there,looking for something important to her, and possibly to the mercantile assistant too. She seemed older today,than I remember her, more bowed, and wrinkly, and growingly needful of the assistance of others- yet hanging on to the last to whatever independence she could muster. She is one of Dingley's oldest residents, she knows every inch of the history of our little town these past eighty years, and often stops to tell of those olden times to anyone younger who takes time to listen. Interesting, wordly wise and wordly dismissive at times, Pinkora seemed especially tired today. The young elven maid behind the counter was cheerful and kind,offering her help,and a merry quip or two, to make her day. But sadly Pinkora never returned the laugh with a smile or two, but stuffed her purchases deep down into her holdall, kept her head low and shuffled off into the cold twilight air. The waiting crowd in the pharmacy were a rum bunch, a mixed horde of restless consumers,unable to hide their desire to be off and away as soon as possible, pushing ever relentlessly forward whenever a chink appeared in the queue, blissfully unaware of anyone else's woes and distresses, and desperately hoping that the next prepared prescription called would be theirs.I was almost slipping into a sleepy reverie,thinking of Pendragon, what parchments I would buy, what ploys Saturday would bring, which delicacies I would make for tea, and how I would spend my Friday evening - on my own, as Pendragon is meeting with the Academics of Metropolis this evening in some grand city hostelry no doubt.
I will miss him but try to get some outstanding chores out of the way and spend at least some time on myself, painting my nails, fixing up some clothes and trying on some delicate new underpinnings.And maybe when the light has fallen to a new darkness, I'll read my favourite poems, plan my radio show, or just sit planning some part of our May
betrothal ceremony.

The Community Radio Station is moving. At our coffee meeting in the Jolly Woodman some weeks ago, Syncopatius Timpo made the announcement. Our lease is up on the building we have been inhabiting and new premises have been hard to find at reasonable rates. Our new studios are being set up and redecorated in a couple of rooms at the back of the Black Fortress,a main Hall in the centre of Dingley Dell's main thoroughfare.
It will be nice to be so close to the centre of the town's lively hubub, but we will miss the sprawling surroundings we have been used to. So it is with trepidation that we make this move. Syncopatius has made it clear that this is a temporary home until a better base can be found, but cheerful though we try to be, the resident presenters are finding it hard to believe that a permanent studio may be some way off in the future. We move in, in March, so more details will unfold as that time approaches.
This is no time to be downhearted though. I resist such glooms as every cloud needs to feel a silver lining will duly evolve. There is much to do to prepare for the Spring time,the fever of new life and a blossoming world will soon be upon us,and the excitement of warmer climes will animate our lust for new activities and new society. I love this time of year. We will glow with renewed vigour and enthuse each other with big dreams and wild schemes before the new month of march is much older.

Make your plans my fine friends for a riotous Primavera, Be looking through last Spring's seasonal garb for items to save. We are in Credit Crunching territory and recycling last year's fashion items will leave us feeling all the more righteous for the experience. Swish it,don't ditch it, as they say.
Merry weekending to you all. I have some scones to bake and a new lace overshawl to complete before the bells of Sunday morn should ring.

Much more soon, from Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.