After a morning of whipping the toadstool into a state of tidiness, I took more time than usual to prepare myself for my luncheon engagement.By one on the clock in the Jolly Woodman Restaurant, I was seated at a window table, half way through an acorn latte, and reading this week's copy of Toadstool Times. I had just started the home baking article when the doors of the Jolly Woodman parted and in flew Picallilli Peasegood, black beret at a strangely tilted angle and her brolly still open.She called at the top of her voice :" Amarantha ! I'm hee-ee-re"! Well that was a bit of an understatement,as all 30 of us in the restaurant could hardly fail to notice her arrival ,breaking the calm and soporific atmosphere of the dining room.She waddled up to the wicker table, plonking herself and her belongings on three out of the four seats around it. One carved oaken seat held her shopping, one held her outsize,woollen Stewart tartan plaid cape, and the third was wobbling under Piccallilli's true magnificence. How are you ? she smiled breathlessly. Glad to see you ! she giggled. It had been 3 months since our last luncheon together.It was so good to see that she was the same old dear Picallilli that I had known and worked with for so many years. The same warmth, the same caring ,and indeed, the same loud brown t-shirt with a teddy bear on the front ,and her loose yellow floral capri trousers. She would never be catwalk material,but no one could fill her shoes better as an honest and trustworthy friend. We talked for a while before ordering the walnut quiche of the day,and a fennel side salad. With our latest escapades and family news out of the way, we got to the main business of the conversation - Piccallilli's latest scandal. It was work based and she was clearly upset by it all . Piccallilli is as moral as she is loud. It had been a Tuesday two weeks ago, and just before lunch. She had decided to take time to visit the Dingley Dell Academy Catering Chief to arrange for a particularly slimming lunch to be organised for herself. She was just about to wave Dolores Dinkweed (the Chief) a merry hello,as she pushed the swing doors of the kitchen open, when a terrible sight met her eyes. Far from being busy counting out asparagus tips or spreading almond butter on sourdough fingers,the bold Dolores was lying flat on her back on the stainless steel worktop, lips clenched against the puckered up smooch of Ferrungus Belch, the school caretaker. Picallilli admitted to having been completely overwhelmed by this revelation and had squeaked a faint "oh dear",which immediately brought Dolores and Ferrungus out of their gloopy embrace and back to the reality of having beeen discovered. And discovered by Piccallilli at that, known the length and breadth of Dingley Dell for her inability to keep shtumm about anything. Ferrungus was the first to volunteer "I'm just checking the burners of the stove, and Mrs. Dinkweed was assisting me".Dolores had looked hard at Piccallilli to emphasise that that was the explanation ,and she better had believe it,or else.
Poor brave Piccallilli braced herself and said in her most heroic of voices,"Not in that position,you weren't ." They got my drift,she said. Dolores had immediately left the building,claiming the sudden onset off Patagonian flu,and has not returned. Ferrungus has had himself assigned to outdoor duties and has taken to wearing sack cloth and ashes in the hope that Piccallilli will notice the extent of his remorse, and not feel the need to spill the beans to Anaconda, his large Boggart spouse. By this time Piccallilli was talking at the top of her voice,squeals and groans coming thick and fast in her anxiety to complete all the details and underline the enormity of it all. Sadly it only served to allow everyone in the Jolly Woodman tearoom the opportunity to overhear. Let's hope none of them has Belch or Dinkweed blood in their genetic fingerprint ,or Piccallilli's poor attempt at secrecy will all have been in vain....
"It's not been the same since you left" said Piccallilli,profoundly, while patting my knee to reinforce the depth of feeling in her statement. I was not sure it was a great compliment to be citing my departure as the catalyst for Belch and Dinkweed's undignified fumble. I hardly dared ask her what other indiscretions may have erupted as a result of my quitting the hallowed halls of Dingley Dell Academy.She concluded by saying that she was "keeping an eye on things",and what about a big portion of roly poly honey gateau with our acorn coffees. We sat there at least another hour, giggling about past joys and former experiences,then we parted with a warm hug and a promise to meet up again soon. Piccallilli left first ,barging out the same way she had pushed her way in. Dear Piccallilli, larger than life, and twice as much fun. I hope she will always be a friend and that life will not always be so hard for her.
Tomorrow, I have a meeting of the Heritage Committee. A fine opportunity to sit staring daggers across the table at Queen Brighid the Bright, while blocking her every Machiavellian move. Our differences have not been resolved,and are unlikely to be, while she attempts to usurp all my free time. Pendragon has urged me to stay calm, not rise to any provocation, but ensure that I make my position very clear, before the meeting closes. I think I'd rather lock horns with a rhino, than attenpt a temporary coup with the Queen of Dingley Dell. We can only hope that my better nature, and her dislike for showing that her feathers have been ruffled, will prevail. Tomorrow is another day, let's hope it is a sunny one. Much love to you all my friends, and may all your friendships be long and happy ones. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.