toadstooltales

I did not rise quite as early as I had planned,for I had much to do. Two orders for used parchments had arrived and I realised that I would have to shift my tiny elven body a little faster if I were to make it to the Post Slot in time. In Dingley Dell,the Post Slot closes at noon on Saturdays.It was a beautiful day and I walked there fairly quickly,taking in the busy huddles of village folk,on their way to variious enjoyments. All seemed to have cast off their spring vestments in favour of summer shortened hose and filmy summer skirts. I was astounded to find a huge queue for postal attention,winding its way from the counter to outside the Postal Slot. I took my place at the end of this tail,next to an aged and slightly infirm dwarf,who nonetheless,had a cheery smile for one and all. Well,we waited and we waited, and we waited some more. The ageing dwarf and I chatted about every topic under the sun, as the two Post Slot attendants got more fractious trying to reduce the size of the waiting throng. Looking behind us,we were both stunned to see at least another two score of Dingley Dellites had joined the queue behind us. Gradually the folk in front of us disappeared,and I handed my parcels to the attendant. She looked rather red in the face with her continuous exertions,but she was very pleasant and she dealt with my business as quickly as she could.
I headed back out into the gleam of the day,making my way down to the harbour and The Buttercup Bistro. Pendragon had promised to meet me at one of the cuckoo clock,but by one hour and one half past,there was no sign of his tantalising pointy feet. I had an acorn latte but with the last piece of frothy milk,he had still not arrived. I walked back up the hill,feeling the effects of the roasting sun beating down upon my red elven curls. It was just a little too hot. As I jumped into my red carriage holder,I heard the sound of a familiar voice,calling my name. It was Pendragon,just arrived,and having spotted me from a distance,trying to catch my attention .We hugged,I was so relieved to see him. We drove home to the toadstool ,and had our lunch there,in the warmth of our beautiful Sun Room.
Pendragon then set to work to work oil into our new garden table,using a ittle elbow grease,and bundles of rags. I left him happy in his work for a while,as I had some admin. work to complete,and some craft work to finish. From the Blue Room I coould smell the smells of Pendragon starting to prepare our spaghetti supper. We will dine in the Sun Room with the Black Fat Cat joining us to gather some sunbeams. I will water the garden plants ,and Pendragon and I will finish the waterproofing of the garden table together. Tomorrow the sun is due to continue in Dingley Dell,so Pendragon and I are taking a trip to view the DrumCourt Castle and its grounds. The old castle has many artefacts and relics from the 16th century,and rooms full of costumes,and battle gear.I love finding out more about my elven heritage, and Pendragon cannot resist the opportunity to swing a few battleaxes,under safe scrutiny,of course.

May the day be bringing the brownness of the berry to your rosy cheeks, and may the night bring a touch of sparkle to your dreams. Tomorrow is the first day of the new month,June. The summer solstice is upon us ,my friends, make it yours in word and deed. From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

I met with the Faery Physio at halfway past the cuckoo hour of two. Not the elven lady of my last visit but a tall elven gentleman called Jupiter Lovage, who smiled all the time throughout my appointment. He joked with me for a while about the deluge outside,and then listened when I explained what I felt had happened to my left hand and what Dr. Scroat had given me for it. He then went through an assortment of tests to try to ascertain my level of difficulty,and establish exactly from where in my hand,the problem was emanating. That done ,he then said he did not feel the cause was tendonitis, but something he called an inflamed joint . He said the joint concerned was at the base of my wrist,and not the base of the thumb,as I supposed. It has been caused by lots and lots of repetitive work,mainly my weaving tasks,which I so much enjoy. It needs time to heal ,he said, but it should heal well. Meanwhile he has given me daily exercises to "cool,stretch and strengthen the joint". If ,when I return to see him in two weeks, the hand is not progressing quickly enough, he will put some special liquid into the joint.He was so helpful that my heart lightened and I left the Physio room with a skip in my step. It is very debilitating to have constant pain in any of your limbs, so I was thrilled to hear that it will not last for ever.
I celebrated this good news by heading to the mercantiles of Brigantia,to windowshop for objects with which to beautify the toadstool and some summer garments for myself. I saw many interesting things along the way,but nothing which tempted me to buy. I did find the furniture oil which Pendragon needs to waterproof our new oak garden table. So one of us will be happy this weekend.

I always enjoy weekends with my Pendragon. He takes so much good care of me,and is always looking for ways to ease my day or give me some fun. He makes me laugh.He sees the beauty in me, and remembers to tell me so. He wants for me what I want for myself. He wants to share my life,as his betrothed, and have Amarantha and Pendragon Willow emblazoned on the toadstool door. I waited such a long time for him to come into my life, and now he is here,I want to treasure every day with him. Tomorrow we are going for a long walk to work out our elven pins and fill our lungs with the sweet fresh air. We will take a coastal route leading to Mendaly and sit awhile there in a cornfield,drinking from our acorn tea flask,and munching on fresh pulpberries.We'll return before the dusk falls, to a hearty supper devised by Pendragon. We will cuddle up on our cream coloured settee,and listen to some favourite silver disks,or sing while Pendragon accompanies me on his mahogany lute.If the weather stays fine we will dance in the moonlight on the lawn while the stars shine down on our weekend merrymaking.

I saw Granny Primpole arrive tonight,bellowing at Weedy to be more careful as he staggered from side to side in an attempt to keep her upright on the path. She was large as life and twice as obnoxious as I remember her,so it cannot be her that Weedy was stuffing into the back seat of his maroon motor carriage.Maybe he is now wishing he had. So the mystery remains unsolved.I am starting to wonder if I just had a moment of wild imaginings,but Severity's nervous glance as I passed,remains with me.They were up to something,that's for sure.Time will tell,they will slip up sometime and all will be revealed. Coming to think of it, I haven't seen the Forlorn Faery for a couple of days. That lead definitely needs to be followed up.

In the front garden my two Flowerpot people are settling in well.
Horticultura Pot is adorned with pink daisies,while Fresca Pot sports some large sunflowers in her terracotta headgear. They have two jolly pink faces,and seem interminably happy in their protective spot in the rockery.They are doing a sterling job of keeping slugs and snails away from my young plants.Nothing gets past these grandes dames,so everything around them blooms and shines. I am unsure how well they are proceeding in friendship with my other garden helpers ,Dulcie Woodnymph and Gerania Sylph.They have been looking after and blessing the front garden for three years now,and may feel they have cause to resent this unwarranted intrusion into their special patch by two flowerpot fly-by-nights.
I want them all to feel welcome.New visitors join the garden crew all the time.Some stay for a while,then move on.Others like Mandolini and the Backyard Boys choose to make my humble paradise their long term haven. In fact two little pot gnomes have arrived in the back yard and I know that Mandolini and the boys have granted them their own homestead pots. Crabappleton and Artemus look very much at home in their pots of ivy and primroses.
Dulcie and Gerania are both tall and elegant in their fine white robes,and are used to having the rockery to themselves.Hopefully the funloving Flowerpot people will win them over with their hard work and kooky smiles. If not,I may have to have a timely word with my two exquisite angelic ladies,and remind them that all who come are to be extended the same warmth and affection- and as my bringers of good fortune to the fifth toadstool on the left, I expect their aura of generosity of spirit to be upheld and granted to every quarter of our domain. I am sure they will respond.
The lights are fading fast here in Dingley Dell, and I have had to ask the glowworms to light up our toadstool early. Pendragon will be home soon and our weekend will begin with a hot,spicy bowl of tomato and persimmon soup,with toasted eggplant batons on the side. His green pointy slippers and brocade dressing robe are laid out. A small glass of blueberry mead awaits him on the oaken table. With him by my side, my days here in the fifth toadstool from the left, my beloved Flowerpot Cottage, are idyllic.

May all your days in your harvest home be marked by their warmth and peace,my dear friends, save the times when they are marked by feasting, and carousing, and lindy hopping into the night. Every faery needs to party sometime. From Amarantha, the delightful Ms. Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Pendragon looked rather astounded last night when I related my tale of the " neighbouring Primpoles and the blue stripey blanket shoved slyly into the back of motor carriage". He did not seem to take it in at first,and asked me to tell him again. His initial puzzled expression turned from rueful and worried facade, to amused grin demeanour,back to puzzled and yet unharried smile. He doesn't believe me,I thought. He thinks I am either gilding the lily for fun, or have allowed something simple to become a mountain rather than remain a molehill. In truth he never said that, but he didn't jump up and down yelling for the number to call the Dingley Dell Investigation Runners either. But he did eventually realise I wasn't joking, and rather limply said I should call them if I was really worried.To be fair he was tired ,having had his own brand of problems to solve within his daily workload. We sat down to eat our simple supper, and sensing I was a bit quiet,he asked me why I thought something untoward was going on in toadstool number six. It was difficult to explain,since I had no evidence other than that of my eyes and ears ,but I was able to tell him that Severity had just looked a bit shifty.
"Shiftier than usual", said Pendragon ,with his irresistible twinkle in both eyes.
"Yes,"I said softly."I am just responding to my inner intuition".
At the words "inner intuition" Pendragon knew to take me more seriously. My inner intuition in the past has proved to hold more than a little accuracy. He touched me gently on the shoulder.
"Stay vigilant," he said." Don't say anything to anyone about this. But stay alert. Maybe some other clue will develop. Maybe you will discover that there is not much to this. Maybe your bag of bottles theory will prove to be the true one".

I slept soundly,as I always do after a heart to heart with Pendragon. He is a Mystic,Philosopher,and Healer of Souls, and has the relevant skills to soothe the troubled heart.

I woke early this morning to the sound of twin barking coming from number six,so at least it cannot or does not appear to be either of the wildebeests wrapped in the untidy blanket. If it had been the black one with the evil eyes,I doubt if I would have lost much sleep. But if the beasts are still there, I now need to rule out Granny Primpole.
Granny Primpole is the older image of her daughter Severity, just a lot plumper and with white rather than grey cropped hair. She is large,- in fact you could roll her like a barrel down the toadstool path. Her huge surface is clothed in large tent like structures with brightly coloured patterns. She has the daily miserable and mean appearance which I associate with Primpledom. It seems they only allow themselves a smile and a laugh on special occasions. I have never seen Granny Primpole laugh.I would imagine if she did,the whole world would shake and avalanches would fall. She usually is helped out of the motor carriage by Weedy on a Friday night,and steered towards the toadstool lest her wobbly gait should overturn her on the path. Maybe they have simply tired of her vicious stare,or felt the need to access Granny's geld account.The major stumbling block to this theory though,is the fact that I doubt if the stripey blue blanket was large enough to cover any of Granny's extensive bulk.
So, my possibilities are narrowing. I am now looking for something or someone small ,who has gone missing.
No stone in Lobelia Drive shall remain unturned until this mystery has been solved.Primpoles beware, Amarantha is on your trail.

It will have to wait till the weekend,though, as I journey to Brigantia tomorrow,to see the Faery Physio.
Tendonitis in my left hand is improving,but I am hoping she will have some further ideas for me to get rid of it all together. I am attending some art classes in the Metropolis in July and I do not want it to hinder the possibility of my creating a few decent works of art.

My new chair has arrived for my working space in the Blue Room. It is pink and perfect,and so comfortable. Imagine my surprise to find that it is high enough for me to see across my desk,out of the window onto to our backyard, and down into the Primpole's paved garden space. This could be useful,as I sleuth my way into next week.

Kindest regards to you all my friends,and may the dust of mystery fall from all your eyes,clearing all current secrets from your lives. From Amarantha Willow, scourge of the deceiver and the malcontent. From dearest Amarantha,the Rainbow Faery.

I have drunk my third acorn tea in 45 minutes. Right down to the dregs at the bottom of my green and white spotted mug. It has been a day for doing things to the nth degree.I stayed in this morning to await the arrival of a garden table,which Pendragon bought on a whim in Metropolis. The woodland phone went at the eleventh hour,and a youngish voice said in matter of fact tones,that the table would now be delivered in the afternoon. Any plans to go to the Jolly Woodman Tearooms would have to be shelved.No matter.I had plenty of admin. work to do in the Blue Room,and besides the sky was fit to burst with more rain. It has been pouring wetness since 5 of the cuckoo clock this morning,and everything outside is sitting in small flowing rivulets of water. I struggled out for five minutes to scatter some rye breadcrumbs on the birdhouse table,and and had to rush back inside as quickly as I could to avoid another deluge. The vast array of birds which descended,signalled the extent of their gratitude. I worked for the rest of the morning on filing parchments,and packing orders for mailing.

The table was not delivered until four .A loud rap on the front door of our toadstool heralded the arrival of a large white furniture carrier. An ever so cheerful goblin ran up the path,to check it was our toadstool awaiting delivery, and within two winks of a centipede's eye,he returned with a large slim box on his shoulder . I signed his sheet ,and closing the door,took a few minutes to consider what I still had to do, and how much time I had left to do it in. Shopping for one or two necessary items for supper was a major priority,so I looked out my overlarge waterproof jacket, in which to hide from the continuing precipitation. Outside, I was just closing the iron gate,when I noticed the Primpoles hovering round the back of their wine coloured motor carriage. They were both huddled closely,looking solemnly into the back seat. They were mumbling quietly,and did not see me approaching. I cheerily said hello.Weedy did not seem to notice me, so busy was he,bundling something in a striped blanket into the back. Severity made an attempt to smile and returned my greeting,but seemed to have an air of tension about her. I just hurried by,and ignored whatever was going on. It looked mightily suspicious to my keen elven eye,but what lay behind the subterfuge,was impossible to determine from my viewpoint beside my own motor carriage. One thing was certain. Neither Weedy nor Severity wanted anyone to see or know what had just been pushed into their vehicle. Plots from much loved mystery tales flooded my mind as I sped down to the supermercantile. Was it body or beast cocooned in that blanket ? Why were they putting it in their motor ? Had they come by it honestly or by stealth ? What have the Primpoles done ? By the time I turned into the supermercantile motor carriage holder,I had them tried and sentenced in my mind. Had their black wildebeest finally lost its wits,and had to be quelled ? Had Granny Primpole come to visit,and they were disposing of her to collect her inheritance ? Or was it just a desperate attempt to rid themselves of the vast mountain of bottles and debris ,left after their outdoor shindig on Saturday ? I made up my mind at that point to be increasingly vigilant and monitor the Primpoles every waking move.

I hurried round the supermercantile,wanting to get home quickly in case I missed any clues which might prove to be important in bringing Weedy and Severity to justice at some later date. There was a fairly long queue at the pay slot,so I was soon finding it difficult to contain my impatience. I accidentally pushed my trolley into the leg of the poor dwarf in front of me,so keen was I to get my purchases nearer to the door, and get home. Once out,I drove as quickly and as safely as I could back to Lobelia Drive. I parked my little red motor carriage and laden with bags of produce, headed towards our toadstool home. There was now no sign of either the Primpoles or their motor carriage. There were no glowworms lighting any of their rooms, and no signs of elven or animal life to be heard. Whatever could be going on ?
I watched from my toadstool window for a while but they haven't returned yet. I must alert Pendragon and remain ever watchful of their next moves.
All this excitement has left me no time to darn Pendragon's hose as I promised. He will have to wait or hope that I can find time later,between washing up and peering out of the window from behind the curtains. All in line with my community duty,of course.

Have a dry evening,my friends,remembering to stay well clear of dripping porches, soggy waterproof capes, and couples with blue stripey blankets.
From your budding amateur sleuth, Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Cold winds slapped the face of Dingley Dell and Brigantia all day long today .It felt like an autumnal kickback,with a showery encore waiting in the wings . Rain was starting to blow through as I closed the door of the four wheeled motor carriage ,and it was splashing the step as I opened the front door.It's good to be home. I have been on the move since eight of the cuckoo clock this morning. Pendragon,who was working late last night in Metropolis, called at 5 towards the eight, to check that I was up and around. He knew I needed an early start with so much to do. I was crunching oaty bits at the time ,and had one slipper on,so I was almost ready. Packing everything I needed into the back of my motor carriage, I headed for the offices of the Daily Scandal to deliver my column. They start early on Tuesdays as it is deadline day for featured columnists, and all layups need to be completed as soon as possible . My column can be found in the leisure supplement on Wednesdays and Saturdays. As Amarantha, Agony Elf, I tackle one problem in each column,making two per week. Cumberpatch has limited me to one hundred words per column,but so far I have written a bit more,and the typesetter has included it all.Either Cumberpatch cannot count,or he has decided to turn a temporary blind eye to this flagrant disregard for his rules. Neither Portamus or his secretary were around when I opened the office door,so I smiled gamely in the direction of one of the lesser reporting staff who took my humble writings and said he would pass them on.
"There 's a letter for you," he said. Not another problem, although we have quite a pile for you. No, it's a thank you letter. How about that, eh" ?
I must have looked very surprised,but inside I was bubbling with excitement. I opened the envelope, and alongside the dog-eared parchment,a few grains of white sand fell out into the palm of my hand. The hand writing was rather scratchy but legible. It was a note from the ancient seaman who wrote to me last week,looking for help with developing his social life,now that he is a retired landlubber. He had met someone at one of the activities( Aquatic Bingo) which I outlined to him in my column, and all was going well. She was a mermaid from the west coast of Dingley Dell,who seemed to share many of his life experiences and interests. He claimed to be deliriously happy,and with stars permanently seeded in his twinkly blue eyes. His concluding remarks made me smile.

Dearest Amarantha, he wrote, I hope she will make my years as an ancient ,truly blissful, but if it doesn't work out, what do YOU do on Thursday nights ? You sound like my kind of sea-faring gal. Many thanks. From Captain Billious Carbuncle,your much weathered friend and admirer.

Dear oh dear,whatever would Pendragon make of this ? He can be rather a territorial paramour,so I think I will choose a good humoured moment to reveal my erstwhile camp follower.
My next task was in Brigantia,to chase up my delivery of furniture ,which had not actually happened as requested last week. My new desk and book holder,were both still in the warehouse and I wanted to know why. The goblin salesman told me they had run out of oaken chairs and would I accept a maplewood one ? It seemed just as pretty as my first choice ,so we have rescheduled delivery of both for Thursday. This should put the final touches to my working space.
Back to Dingley Dell then, for an afternoon of broadcasting at Dingley Dell Radio Network,with much emphasis on smooth romantic sounds, summery tales and an interview with one or our local alchemists. He was purporting to my listeners, the benefits of elven podiatry once per month and imbibing regular doses of ipecechuana for "comfort and regularity". Definitely educational,but lacking a ittle in celebrity lustre. Next week promises more ,with Dunkley Forepiece,a noteable writer of up market parchment novelettes. He should be deliciously erudite, and potentially unconventional dynamite.
On my return, I was removing my slipperettes in the toadstool hall, when I heard some faery footsteps on the path. I opened the door to Scamp,the postal Imp,bearing three parcels,all in my name. One was my face cream,from distant antipodean climes,the second contained a red embroidered gossamer cover up, and the third - the most beautiful blue velvet jacket in the world. All shades and patterns of blue,and I cannot wait to strut my elven bones around Dingley Dell in something so perfectly formed and delightfully stitched.

Pendragon will be home soon,to a dinner of mushroom patties ,mashed spinach and some roasted parsnips on the side. He needs a hot meal after a cold tram journey.
Tomorrow I am having a working day. Writing, parcelling up used parchments,finishing some divine woven garment for a young pixie , and maybe a leisurely lunch in the Sun Room.
A nearly perfect day, only made more wonderful if Pendragon were able to join me. Sadly he belongs to the Healing World during the week, and I must wait till the evening to partake of his fine company.

May the rigours of Dingley Dell weather be far removed from your little toadstool homes ,my friends,and may all your admirers be as remarkable as the divine Captain Billious Carbuncle .
From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

I have spent part of the day working on my used parchment business.Things are shaping up nicely and some sales are starting to come in. Elven folk love their scripts,especially self improvement manuals, healthy woodland eating parchments and any historical or magical text. At the moment I spend as much time reading the parchments as I do working with them. Finding new ones to sell is becoming a regular part of my shopping trips,and almost as important as finding foodstuffs for our teatimes. It gives quite a new meaning to the term "foraging".
It was quite difficult to concentrate this morning as the sounds of banging resumed next door at number four. The Forlorn Faery is having some work done both in the garden and inside the toadstool,and it all seems to involve wielding hammer and nails. The front garden grass has finally been cut and I think she intends to keep it short,so Pendragon will have to stop thistle spotting from our front fence. We think the former occupant, Gumble the gnome, perceived it to be a flowering plant, and allowed it to scale the heights. Pendragon was constantly staring at it,secateurs or chopper in hand,willing it to set a leaf across our fence ,in the hope that continually cutting it back,might cause it to finally lose the will to live. No such good fortune,but finally last Friday it bit the dust. The garden goblin who carried out the work, yanked at it for a solid hour till it pulled free from its moorings. I am sure I heard the earth groan behind it. Let's hope no small roots were left in the soil. Today the goblin workmen are back, to dig up the disastrous array of weeds in her backyard,and build a little wooden deck for her to catch sunbeams on. The garden is beginning to look much better for her now ,and I would be lying if I said her neighbours were not much relieved too.The backyard weeds were also starting to make their way beyond the fence and Pendragon had to frequently pull them out before they took root in our sunny patch. The Forlorn Faery has overall made quite a difference to the demeanour of toadstool number four. She sits outside under her front porch - sometimes legs dangling from her blue and white striped seat, taking in the rays,and reading her copy of the local rag,while smoking on a tube of bindweed. We chat quite a lot as I come and go,and I am tempted to counsel her on occasion,as to the perils of inhaling such a plant known for its dangers to her health.But by the time I would have given her any advice, I would also have inhaled some of it myself. So I choose not to linger,and hope that at some point,her little black beady eyes deign to read the crystal clear warnings on the bottom of the packet.
I am on my own tonight,as Pendragon is working late in the Metropolis. I will have a small dinner of last night's leftovers and await his call on the woodland phone. Plenty of time to sift through my ramblings for my column for the Daily Scandal. I always hand them in on Tuesday mornings,which means a short visit to Portamus Cumberpatch's office, and sometimes a chance to extend good tidings to the great man himself. His desk is always covered with the remains of his store bought breakfast,so I carefully place my pristine copy as far away from his supermercantile paninis as I can. Maybe I should offer him a healthy elven eating column as well. At least he would scan the advice,even if he didn't use it. He can be quite charming if he cares to take his head out of the pile of parchments in front of him. At most ,to date, I have had a thank you grunt, and his usual timely warning "remember ,just 100 words". as I sally to the door. An elf of few words and too many paninis,that's Portamus Cumberpatch,the roly poly editor of The Daily Scandal.
In Brigantia tomorrow ,I am to visit the Geldhouse and collect some more paints for Pendragon to finish our shed. It was gleaming in the sunlight this morning when I filled the birdhouse with some rye offcuts. Pendragon will give it a second coat ,and maybe paint the birdhouse as well.Our flying visitors will surely love their five star billet,and all year round restaurant.
Much good tidings to you all, my friends, on this May Holiday Monday. May there be no supermercantile paninis or smoking bindweed in your repertoire today. May good health be yours.
From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Pendragon and I lay for quite a long time this morning ,talking about how we met ,and reminiscing about our good times here and in the Metropolis . It is his birthing day today,and we will spend most of it quietly here in the toadstool. I wished him Happy Birthing at midnight plus one last night,and we fell asleep with a long cuddle and the sweetest of words. I brought him an acorn coffee,as he lay back reading his latest mystery parchment,and the first of his cards. It pictured an elven couple sitting on a tree branch ,with their arms around each other.They had a beautiful aura ,and the word "sharing" completed the picture. I made him a beautiful healthy breakfast of oatmeal and berries,a light chocolate croissant,and crushed apple juice to follow. I could hear him singing in the bath house while I watched the oatmeal rise. An airy elven tune of love and commitment,sung at the top of his voice. We sat in the sun room, watched by the Black Fat Cat,and ate our morning meal- chatting and laughing and enjoying Pendragon's new year.
He is now outside in the Back Yard, wielding a small woodbrush. We decided to paint the woodshed in more glamorous colours. It is a Coastal Look in Jasmine white,Seagrass,Blueberry and Lavender stripes. It will look stunning and be the envy of elven folk for miles around. Pendragon has been out for an hour now,and already he has completed the whole of one side. I cannot wait for him to finish the job.
At three I will make him an afternoon libation,and check on his further progress.
Today we can see the fruits of yesterday's garden chores. I need to water the pots every day now as they dry out so quickly. But my daily endeavours are paying huge dividends. Everything stands tall in the beams of the sun,and smiles when the droplets from the watering can splash each petal face. The garden is so quiet today. The Primpoles were seen by Pendragon early this morning, piling dogs and parcels into the back of their four wheeled motor carriage. No barking, no singing,definitely no sniggering behind the fence, for a whole day.
We never seem to see the Fearless Faery on Sundays. The front bedroom window is always open,so I think she lies late in bed. No one or nothing to have to get up for,I suppose. She confided in me last week,as we dallied a while across the front fence, that she finds Lobelia Drive a little on the quiet side. Some days she sees few people ,and she does not seem to have many hobbies with which to occupy her time. It is surprising to me to find an elven lady like her,of not so tender years,with so few visible accomplishments or crafting skills. She has provided only a couple of clues to her elven past, and both present a fairly sad and troubled picture. Her former partner, of gnomic origins, is now in a special hospital for the gravely ill. Her children,two it would seem,left home a few years ago, and she has not seen hide nor hair of them since. One elven girl,and one gnomic boy. So sad. She has no other family on her side,and on her partner's side, she says they don't speak to her since he has been ill. She seems terribly alone. I told Pendragon all this ,and I have to say he looked at me askance. "Be careful,my love."he said. 'You don't know the real truth of the matter. Be nice but take matters with a pinch of sodium, until you are more sure of her honesty".
Pendragon is not usually so cautious with newcomers,but he is also very intuitive,so I have taken his advice to heart . I will be nice but I will keep a small distance until I am surer of her. She has said one or two contradictory things to me in our conversations,which do flag up a sign of some contrivance in her nature. For now, I pass the time of day with her,and do my best to make her feel welcome in the cul-de-sac.
When Wally the house cuckoo strolls out at four,I shall begin making Pendragon's birthing day dinner. A fine feast of cucumber salad with a fruity overtone, and Amarantha's vegetable paella. If we need a sweet dessert to follow, my raspberry and apple bake should melt his heart. After our meal I have a special present for Pendragon, brewed 25 years ago in the hills of Dingley Dell,and laced with elven stardust. We will go for a walk in the moonlight as it is to be a fine night,and will dance our elven dance beneath the stars. Birthing days are very special to me,and particularly today, as it is a chance to celebrate the coming to the world of someone so fine and individual as my Pendragon.
Much happiness to you all, my dearest of friends, and may your Sunday be bringing you a taste of the high life and a chance to soak up the finest of elven days this year. From Amamrantha,the Willow girl, the Rainbow Faery.

I spent the morning finding Pendragon's birthing day gift and a couple of meaningful cards.I always buy two cards as no one card ever says everything I want to. One generally has the unique message and the other usually the picture on the front which will mean something to both of us. There is a charming craft makers' studio,The Harbour Bell ,in the lane nearest to the Buttercup Bistro,which stocks very varied works of art .I found a special card there,with two elven figures holding each other tight, and one word written beneath them - "sharing ".It just sums up our life together,and signifies his nature so much. The artist had painted the card and it was one of a kind. The other card I found said " some people think the world of someone ,others think that person is their world". That is the way I feel about Pendragon - he is my world.
The mood of celebration on the sunnier days continues in Lobelia Drive. The Dagworts at no. 10 jogged past our toadstool at ten this morning- he in a sweaty grey jogging robe and she in a sweaty pink jogging vest and pants. Enthusiasm was clear,if jogging skills slightly hindered by Mimsey's bulk and Jeraboa's laziness. It's a wonder she wasn't carrying him on her back by that point, his efforts were so lacking in any speed or endeavour.She's a game bird,old Mimsey, and I daresay she feels these weekend physical jerks are bringing them closer together. I hope she is right, although I don't think she should wear Jeraboa out until he has fixed the hole in the fence.
The Primpoles were up with the first starlings,welcoming members of the Primpole Clan in for the day,to join them for a barbecue and to listen to the Dingley Dell Community Radio sports commentary. Their two sons,Boneyback and Abstemio Primpole, are tall by Primpole standards with stout arms ,honed by lifting huge tankards of mead,on a regular basis. They had elven girls in tow today, blooming and busty, with merry smiles and filmy blousons,loosely draped from one shoulder,and seemingly hanging by willpower. They all took up position in the Primpoles' back garden,stocking up on regular infusions of ale and meat pasties , and squealed and shouted the afternoon away,in tandem with Dreelie Firethorn's scintillating radio repartee. The Dingley Dell CLog Hurling Finals were being broadcast and each time a clog was thrown,the whole Primpole party yelled their congratulations ,then giggled at the ostentation of it all. I was working hard in the back garden, - weeding,planting,watering and drinking the cups of acorn tea Pendragon kept bringing ,and it was hard not to be amused at some of their goings-on. Weedy was knocking back the tankards,and I think he was reaching the point of not even bothering what was in them. His constant rantings from the other side of the backyard fence were rapidly becoming slurred with every swallow. Even Severity seemed less severe than usual,occasionally stopping her rant to circle Weedy provocatively ,and kick up her legs and her sun skirt, in an enticing bid for attention. I saw all this from the Blue Room window,as I went to get my sun hat. I have to say that by now,Weedy was in no condition to respond anyway,and any overtures being made for a little afternoon flirting ,were completely falling on stoney ground. He kept raising his tankard with a "heyyyyy,hooooo,hoyyyyyy,woaaaaaaa" ,slobbering down another slobber, and veering ever so slightly closer to the paving stones with every move. They seemed happy in their own merrymaking,so I returned to my own garden funfest,and got lots of useful jobs done by the time the cuckoo called four. It was very warm,and everything looked so beautiful. My tiny plants are growing well,the colours grow richer every day,and cutting back my wandering ivy a little,will really help to allow other shrubs to spread out. Pendragon made our evening repast, a sumptuous miscellany of peppers on a bed of creamy parsnip vermicelli. He is quite the Masterchef,with no seeming limit to his abilities to make new and more scrumptious delicacies. I have planned a special meal for him tomorrow. It may not rival his expertise, but it will press all his buttons in terms of love and effort.
May you all be making merry in your sunny back gardens this weekend ,my sweet friends. Just remember,take care, as you don't know who may be watching. It might even be me, Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

They say when clouds bang together you will get rain. Appointments are a bit like that too. When they clash, the heavens sort of open and your day kind of gets rained on. I was about to set out for Brigantia this morning ,when the receptionist from the Tooth Technician's parlour, rang me on the woodland phone. My appointment with Ally Bally Drillhammer ,the tooth technician, was meant to be in the late afternoon . I had planned to visit Brigantia in the morning and return to Dingley Dell afternoon ward to see Ally Bally. The receptionist said that Ally Bally had hurt his back, and wanted to go home before four on the cuckoo clock . Could I maybe come a bit earlier ? I felt my morning plans disapearing into nothingness even as she spoke,but Ally Bally is a very pleasant and accomplished Tooth Technician , so I felt that I should be as amenable as required.
"That's fine",I said,arranging to call in at 10.30,and thinking that I would not now make it to Brigantia. No window shopping for summery bits and pieces. Ah well, there is always another day. I said goodbye, and got myself ready to make my new appointment. It says a great deal for my fortitiude in this respect as I rather fear the machinations of the tooth technician,even though Ally Bally is such an unequivocably nice elven fellow. I sit hunched in the tooth throne ,awaiting his next whim,and seem to get smaller and more shrivelled as the appointment proceeds. To be fair,he has worked wonders with my elven molars and my gums are surely in the finest of tartar free zones,as a result of his unstinting work. However I determinedly arrived at the parlour,to meet today's dental fate. I smiled at Teeny Muckletitch,the young and giddy receptionist, as I walked through the door.
"I'm Amarantha Willow",I said," I've come early, as arranged ".
She stared at me with growingly despairing eyes.
"He's gone",she replied. "Gone home.He's not very well".
I looked at her, a might suspiciously I suspect.
"I know that" ,I said, with a venomous glint just starting to form in my eyes. "You told me to come in for 10.30. I could have made another appointment. "
I was about to deliver my treatise on the importance to an elven woman of Friday window shopping, and how much my life was now blighted by my pre-weekend hobby having been taken away from me. And how I had turned up in good faith at her behest .But one look at her sorely downcast face held me back .
"I know",she said weakly,tears welling up, and me now feeling like an transylvanian ogre.
"It's ok",I said,trying to force a palliative smile. "I 'll just make another appointment now,please".
A new card in my pocket ,I staggered out into the sunlight again, wondering at which point Ally Bally had decided that I should be ignored and he should seek the comfort of his oaken studio bed. Before or after my woodland call. And did no one think they could have avoided my unnecessary journey, by letting me know.
So clouds banged together, my arrangements were all askew , and I got rained on.I decided not to bother with my Brigantian morning,prefering to use the time to consider my afternoon show at D.D. Radio Network, and have a nice lunch when Wally the cuckoo waddled out at one of the clock. Pumpkin and wild rice soup ,and nifty,chubby wholemeal garlic croutons - a dream meal, for a feckless Friday.
I clocked in at the Radio Station for two,only to be told that Jiminy Jinks had just turned up, his dew fever having taken a turn for the better,and he would just go ahead.I could not believe it. Not again. Another waste of time. Was the whole elven world having a laugh at my expense? Were the heavenly powers giving me a lesson in exercising my tolerance button ? Was I to be able to retrieve any of my carefully planned day ? I smiled another palliative smile, wished Jiminy Jinks a wonderful showtime,and headed for the cold and windy outdoors. I didn't really wish him well. In truth I hoped his silver music disks would all crumble to dust,and that his microphone would come to an unexpected halt, and go up in smoke. Once again, why did no one bother to phone ? I fear that the normally considerate and impeccably mannered elven world in Dingley Dell, is becoming tainted with the self obsesssion perceived in other worlds. I shall let someone know. I shall not let it pass. Someone has to speak up when it is a matter of protecting our elven heritage. The Ally Ballys and the Jiminy Jinks of this world must be made aware that the fibre of our society is in their hands too, and right now, it is looking a little shaky because of their lack of attention . I walked back to the toadstool,writing the appropriate scripts in my head. By the time I opened the iron gate, I was exhausted,and feeling a lot less inclined to right the wrongs of the day. Maybe I would give them one more chance. After all, the day was fading fast, Pendragon would be home before long, and I am no good at hanging on to real or imagined slights for any length of time. I finished the afternoon,listening to some of my favourite lute recordings, washing down the Backyard Boys and having a quiet observation of Mimsey Dagwort at no. 10. The Backyard gnomes are sparkling like new, although it took me quite a while to track down Verde ,to get his monthly bucket and polish. He is a little soap and water sensitive, and had decided to hide in the wisteria bush, at the sound of my delicate footsteps. They have such hearing precision with those pointy ears,there is not much they miss ,from quarrels at the Primpoles ,to workmen banging in the Fearless Faery's back yard.I suspect this accounts for Mandolini's look of wordly wisdom.
It has been quite a day. I hope tomorrow will be more productive, as I have a meal to prepare for Pendragon's birthday on Sunday, and some work to do for my weekly column in the Daily Scandal.
Busy I will be,indoors,I think .For it is reported on the electronic picture box tonight ,that clouds will really bang together ,tomorrow.
Much celebration this holiday weekend, my dear friends, and may all your appointments remain forever unhampered by the ill- advised unreliabilities, of the loose willed and the morally bereft.
From dearest Amarantha, Pendragon's Rainbow Faery .

I have just sold my second parchment today. You can imagine my excitement. I am trading on my electronic box,and it still comes as a surprise to me that any other elf would wish to buy them. Most of them are in split new condition, though,bought for my work at Dingley Dell Academy. Most were used once or twice,then carefully placed back on the shelves. I posted them in the Dingley Dell Community Post Slot today. Hopefully the two elfen ladies who bought them will enjoy them.
It has been a day of surprises,as a call came in from Queen Brighid the Bright this morning. She was bursting with enthusiasm,and glowing in the aftermath of the Dingley Dell Heritage Week. I have to admit,if a small tad grudgingly,that she did a good job.Pomp and circumstance was ever her style, and she delivered with ease. She invited me to yet another meeting,to make plans for the next event. We chatted for half an hour,the longest I have been able to maintain the bonhomie,and also made plans for a meeting regarding our betrothal ceremony. We need to set the agenda in terms of readings, and music. I have a good idea of what I want, but it will do no harm to talk it over,and stay in our Queen Brighid's good books. So it looks like July will be a red letter month.
I walked to the Mail Slot today,no small task and all uphill on the way back. Just a part of my new ongoing fitness regime. In the village, I took in my usual weekly visit to the Ladies Of Mercy Charity shop,where they had a new array of used parchments on offer, and some sweet pieces of porcelain.I resisted the bears and hedgehogs,but a few romantic parchment novelettes did find their way into my shopping bag. I stopped awhile to talk to the aged elfen on the desk. Her white flossy hair and pale red lips made her appear more gaunt than her chubby arms belied. She only took 3 geld for the parchments and wished me the joys of the day. I also had a coffee in the Buttercup Bistro,and a delicious plate of potato,leek,and gherkin soup. I sat by the window and looked at the Big Water rolling hard into the dark pebble beach. I love my days here in Dingley Dell,working at the pastimes I have chosen,and watching the rest of the world go by. I feel very privileged to have this time.
I wandered around our little toadstool on my return taking in the warmth of it all.It is the sunniest of homes and I always rejoice in coming home to it. It is always bright with fresh flowers,the aroma of acorn coffee and the lightness of oaken furniture. Pendragon and I will enjoy fresh salads tonight in our sun room.We will go for a walk up the avenue to see the stars,and return home in time to water the young plants in the garden, and check that our garden visitors are all in good shape. Today Mandolini sits on the doorstep of the sun room ,looking particularly exhausted,sitting on his log. Beside him,Pianolo is rummaging through yet another text. He always has bright stars in his eyes and a jolly laidback smile.
Under the wisteria,I can see Basso Profundo carrying sunflowers,and looking rather solemn for the day. Lying beside him,sheltered by the trailing wisteria branches ,is Verde, tiny red and white toadstool in hand. They truly are my favourite Backyard Boys. Everything seems sunnier because they are there,and when we are away,we know how well they take care of our home.
In the front the Flowerpot people keep the starlings at bay. These birds' daily squabbles over food supplies persist,so much so that our smaller flying visitors only come to the back garden at the moment.I don't want to stop feeding them,as their babies need the fruits of their foraging,but I am sorely tempted to cut back for a few days.
Tomorrow I journey to Brigantia, to do some window shopping , keep a appointment with the Tooth Technician and on my return,I have a late afternoon show to do at Dingley Dell Community Radio network. Jiminy Jinks has gone down with a dew fever and cannot attend,so my name came up on the filler roster. I shall spend some time this evening sorting my playlist,collecting some data and devising some merry quips. Another busy day,at the fifth toadstool from the left in Lobelia Drive.
Much frolicking this evening, my dear friends, and may the night not come before you have done everything you wish to,before the sun sets. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

I have had a whirlwind couple of days in ,around, and away from the fifth toadstool from the left in Lobelia Drive. I went to Brigantia yesterday to find a comfortable chair and storage unit for my new office cum work space. I found a lovely soft,high backed folding seat,rather than an office chair ,and since the Blue Room is rather neat in size, I was happy to hand over 7.95 in geld for it. A bargain,Pendragon will be so pleased. I also have bought some white storage units to put in the corner of my office space to hold my work folders and tools. I am nearly organised. All is being delivered on Friday,so the excitement is building.
Imagine my surprise on my return to find that young Jenny had phoned from my former place of work.She is a bright young thing, an elfen lass of singular abilities,whom I am sure will go far . She phoned to say that my old buddies ,and supporters,Lillibor Bindweed and Cremola Catchfly are retiring in June. The last of the old redoutables,it would seem,are wending their way out of the education field ,and looking for quieter,and saner pastures. This will effectively mean that all but one of the teachers who worked alongside me for 27 years will have left. I cannot say that I am surprised. If I had not the stomach to work for an educational numbnut, then I know it would only be a matter of time before my colleagues felt the same. No one is happy at Dingley Dell Academy now. No more to be said. Jenny was asking if I wanted to go to their retirement dinner,and (sting in the tail ?) would I like to do the speeches. I had built something of a reputation for fun filled after dinner meanderings while I worked there. I don't mind,really.I had not particularly wanted to do any more,but these were special colleagues and this time it rather gives me an important piece of closure. I have very much moved on in the last two months,but I dare say "once more with feeling" won't be impossible.
Well I never, I have just seen Mimsey Dagwort go through "the hole ". Her husband made that hole on Saturday,with his pyrotechnic exploits, she went berserk at him about it, berated him to a pulp about it,and now she is using it as a quick route thoroughfare to their back door. He spent an hour laying planks across the gap to stop other people using it as a bypass, and now Mimsey is dislodging everything,and squeezing her more than ample charms between the slats. A little hypocritical ,Mimsey, and I am sure you are hoping that Jeraboa won't hear of it from one of your concerned and observant neighbours. I wonder whom she will blame when he finds out the wooden filler has been moved . Oggie the Hood,I daresay, he seems fair game at the moment. He doesn't seem to be getting out much this week .Nobby clamping down,I think, before they lock Oggie up and throw away the key.
Pendragon headed off to the Metropolis this morning with a rather dubious plant in a pot. He was surveying the wonders of our back garden last night,when his eyes alighted on a rangey growth in a pot, sitting against the back fence . Further investigation proved it to be a cutting from a sycamore tree,gathering muster,and growing taller by the day. Our little garden patch could not support the growth of a full size sycamore tree,so he has decided to find a home for it with a friend in Metropolis. I am sure the tram driver and his passengers were in for a rare treat this morning when he stepped inside with a large pot underarm.
I sincerely hope he finds a good home for it within the day,and I don't care how much he has to bribe someone to take it. If he comes home with it tonight again,he and his sycamore can bed down together under the stars. I have a vague memory of Pendragon planting such a cutting,once upon a moonbeam,although he denies all responsibility now.
I stopped off at the Supermercantile today,to collect this evening's comestibles,and bumped into Famabusta Balsam as I rummaged through the leeks. She was a parent of a wild child many years ago,and she has never forgotten my efforts on his behalf. She wished me a happy retirement,and stuck a bottle of beaujolais in my hands. "Docken is getting on fine," she said. "He is so much better now". She then proceeded to fill me in on the last thirteen years of Docken's development. He still has some problems,but it is clear that the love of his elven mother has helped him to blossom into a thoroughly sociable and helpful young man. She just wanted to say thank you. Pendragon loves "these fruits of my labours".
A bottle of beaujolais may not be a king's ransom, but does provide some evidence to suggest my days at Dingley Dell Academy were not completely wasted.
Much fine reward for your efforts,my dear friends, and may all your days be awash with the spoils of rampant endeavour. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

I have just returned from the Metropolis on the tram. It stops off at the back of the toadstool,almost making it our private mode of transport. Pendragon and I had a wonderful weekend. We spent Saturday walking and window shopping,before returning to Pendragon's one bedroomed toadstool in the Metropolis, where he concocted a veritable evening feast of Italian pasta for us.We had cancelled our dining reservation at the "Stately Galleon" till next weekend,which is Pendragon's birthing day. On Sunday we had an appointment with the Faery dressmaker to try to agree upon designs and fabrics for my betrothal gown. I still have not made a final decision,but have ruled out some designs I don't want. So the process is moving on reasonably satisfactorily. She is a very patient seamstress, who recognises the importance of being comfortable with your choice. It is for one of the most important days of my adult elven life. I am hoping to wear a burgundy gown with white somewhere on it, and I am now favouring more of an Italian Renaissance gown. The designs are very elegant,suit my shape ,and will not make me look like a white powder puff. I intend to carry a white and red rose bouquet,to compliment the gown,my hair styled appropriately with an Italian Renaissance hair cap/veil, probably in red /white. I love dressing up, and long flowing styles suit my pesonality.Pendragon has been making very complimentary noises during our discussions about the dress,even though he has said he would marry me if I was draped in a black rubbish bin liner. We had a very cosy weekend.On Sunday night we dined out at the "Verdant Meadow" on pea and mint soup and filo pastry pies.
He is working late in the Metropolis tonight,doing standby duty at the Metropolis Community Hospital. In a large city there can be many emergencies to be appraised,and sometimes Pendragon has a very busy duty rota. As a Mystic,Philosopher and Healer, he is called to assess the possible emotional damage to patients in certain endangering situations. He will be home tomorrow,for some of my fine cooking, and one of my warmest cuddles.
I have much to do this evening, anyway. I must copy out my final submissions for the two problem parchments which Old Cumberpatch gave me. One is from a young elven maiden, who was living in the Metropolis, but who now has returned home to live with her ageing mother,following her relationship with her boggart boyfriend breaking down. She is trying to piece a new life together,and has been going out with her friends to the city, but to her horror,her mother keeps insisting that she comes too. Mummy dearest has taken to wearing young elven weeds,too low cut,and too short in the knee, and the young maiden is embarrassed,nay mortified.She does not want to hurt her mother's feelings,but she does not know how to handle this. I believe the only way is with complete honesty.Her mother should know better,and the daughter should be able to discuss this quite frankly with her. It is a pity that the young maiden came home in the first place,and she really should consider whether she can make some alternative living arrangements. She had left home ,and has only compromised herself by returning. She needs to have that "mutton dressed as lamb"conversation as soon as possible. The ageing mother is not advancing her own social life by travelling down the wrong entertainment routes. She needs to meet people of her own age and interests. And let her daughter find her own way. This need not lead to diminished relations between them, but honesty and a little courage are called for. The other letter is from an old dwarf who has been a mariner all his life, combing the shores of Brigantia and beyond for lost treasures. He has now retired to a small toadstool apartment in Dingley Dell and wants to know how to make a few friends. Maybe I should put him in touch with the previous letter writer's mother. Maybe not. I have furnished him with a long list of suitable hobbies for strong and sturdy wayfarers, and wished him well. Portamus Cumberpatch will have my copy at the start of his working day tomorrow. And I shall have a few days free before I do it all over again.
May you all have had a great working spurt to the start of your week,my friends, and may the length of your ageing mother's skirts give you no sleepless nights. From Amarantha ,much blessed and much loved ,the diminutive Rainbow Faery.

I am packing for my long weekend in the Metropolis. I have to be ready to catch the tram when Wally the cuckoo clock strikes two exactly. I always find it difficult to restrict myself to just a few items. It is already raining outside and there is no sun even on the horizon. So what do I take ? I need to be prepared for any eventuality,such are the vagaries of our weather at the moment. It is warm too, so thick sweaters or tunics are out of the question. We are staying there until Monday, so I feel I need a few choices. Pendragon is so laid back about this . "Limit yourself", is all he will say by way of advice. The very idea of such a thing is unthinkable for most elven women. We love full blown clothes too,not slim slinky pieces, but skirts with yards of lace and gossamer, tunics with billowy sleeves ,long coats with pleats and folds. They are very light because of the materials, but put enough in a bag and they will seem heavy enough. and then there are the shoes. Enough said. I am dizzy deciding. I will reach a compromise with my aesthetic and style sensibilities in due course.
My fears last night about the small bonfire at the Dagworts would seem to have been realised. We went to bed ,watching tiny pieces of flame flying above their hedge,blowing around in the wind. Luckily none have made it to our garden, but their own hedge seems to have suffered some damage. Pendragon rose this morning early and called me to come to the front door. Across the way we saw a hole, not such a small hole at that , gaping from their evergreen hedge. There were clear signs of singeing, and through the hole you could see right into the Dagwort's garden area. Rather a plush area to boot,complete with decking, table and chairs,and glowworm lights. I was seriously in danger of straining my neck muscles to take in all their special effects. Mimsey and Jeraboa appeared within minutes to view their own catastrophe, and it would be fair to say that Mimsey was less than pleased. Jeraboa looked a bit non-plussed,and surprised that blame for this disaster was being laid at his warlock feet. We closed the door while Mimsey concluded her tirade,to be mindful of their privacy, but I continued my surveillance of the scene from behind my front curtains. All in the interests of concern you will understand. Jeraboa ,hands in pockets, shuffled off to find something to block the hole with ,and returned with a few fat,knotted planks. He spent the next hour and a half working out what to do with them. He has blocked up the gap now,but for how long who can say. I hope Oggie the Hood and his vandalistic mates don't spy it as an excuse to wreak a little havoc. All in all, you might discern that Jeraboa is a bit of a lazy oaf,and Mimsey finds him a trial on occasion. She is so sweet,too. Where did she find him and why did she hang on to him ? You would suppose that the many experiences of an ageing warlock would have taught him how to deal with a few embers. Poor Mimsey.No doubt ,even as we speak, she will be somewhere in their three up and three down toadstool, speculating on whether any particular spell in her collection might make things as good as new.
The front windows are thick with the effects of smoke,but they will have to hold their stoor till Monday. For now all I want to think of is my long weekend. Glaur is for weekdays,weekends are for expressions of pleasure. Dinner tonight at the " Stately Galleon", tomorrow we picnic at the Verdant Meadows,and we should be able to do a bit of healthy walking too. We walk as often as we can in the Metropolis. Nothing we need is ever too far away.
I have packed two more letters to answer for my weekly column in the Daily Scandal. I shall pick Pendragon's brains as to the most sensitive and effective replies. He is a Mystic, Philosopher and Healer of souls,after all, he must have some thoughts on these matters.
Much happiness to you all my friends, and let no one persuade you of the joys of late night incendiary moments,this weekend. From the ever solicitous Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

The sunshine this afternoon brought our neighbours out in full force at various junctures. I made a short trip to Brigantia to collect some essentials, from my former toadstool home and ended up doing some weeding there for an hour. Back in Dingley Dell I stopped off at the Hypermercantile for some milk, fresh fruit and some jelly beans and completed my shopping expedition with a bowl of carrot and coriander consomme in the cafe next door. Then home to tidy our cosy lounge ,and do a little entrepreneurial business on my electronic box. I was drawn to look outside by the heat coming through the window,and spotted Mimsey Dagwort from number 10, walking past our front greenery. carrying half her clothing under her arm. Half may be a slight exaggeration but judging by the perspiration on her cheeks,and the redness of her countenance she had been sitting somewhere warm. Mimsey travels to and from the Metropolis every day,on the local tram service, and I suspect today she had taken a window seat. She was still wearing a vest top and a billowing blue skirt, but her work uniform of navy jacket, white tunic and scarf, was under her arm. She was puffing a little hard too as she struggled towards the door. Poor Mimsey ! I suspect the minute she got inside she downed a gallon of cold water,stripped down to her cotton bloomers and put on her sun hat. Conjuring up this picture does bring a smile. Meanwhile there also seemed to be some action at number six. Weedy Primpole was setting out to walk the wildebeests, or rather the wildebeests were walking Weedy. His arms must be at least six inches longer after one of those excursions. In this heat he must have found it quite difficult to keep up any pace. I decided that maybe my young plants and seedlings might like a good soaking so I headed off to find the watering can. Everything received a decent spray from seedlings to blossoming plants, and by the time I went to the back garden, the sound of merry voices on the other side of the fence signalled that Weedy had returned. Not a very long walk then,Weedy !
Woofing and barking first, then I heard Woody's voice calling the usual "stop that, stop that right now". The beasts never listen to him, but then neither does Severity. I was now watering the spot directly opposite that part of the fence with some open slats. If I peered carefully,while continuing to water, I could see the merrymaking at number 6. There was Weedy, now in his shorts,-big,baggy green shorts,and his top was OFF. His bare flabby chest was on show for all to see. A tin of cold ale sat on the oaken outdoor table, and the Daily Scandal was stuck in front of his nose. I swallowed a large swallow,hoping he was not glued to the problem page. Severity emerged from indoors to join him. She was clad in summer vestments too. A bright orange top,directly clashing with her bright orange hair, pink knee length capri pants and she seemed to be teetering on a pair of heeled sparky flip flops. My first impression was that there seemed to be rather too much of Severity and too little of the fabric in her choice of summer vestments. She laid her mug on the oaken table,and sat down, staring towards the fence. I felt the burning of a pair of black eyes on the slats of the fence. Determinedly I soldiered on with the watering, splashing water everywhere. To my dismay, some of it even went through the slats. I heard some giggling from the other side of the fence.
Then something shaking itself, and the golden haired wildebeest stood up behind the fence,whimpering all the while. I must have inadvertently sprayed it with my watering can. The woofing and barking began again so I took myself indoors into the sun room and listened.The barking and wailing had stopped,and the Primpoloes had been laughing,so I have to presume that no offence was taken. However I also have to hope that the golden wildebeest has a short memory, especially when I pass the gate.
A cup of acorn tea pacified my slightly shattered nerves well enough for me to go to the front garden and resume my gardening. I had only been out there five minutes, when two goblin forms on two-wheeled motor carriagws rampaged back and forward up and down Lobelia Drive. It was the infamous Oggie the Hood and Rikki Tikki the Red,his partner in crime. Their hooping and calling was getting wilder and wilder, and they almost knocked over an elderly elven lady, who was on her way down to the tram stop. Devilment existed in both pairs of eyes, and I feared how outrageous their behaviour might become. But the noise was broken by the opening of number three's door, and the sound of a shrill voice from within. No one appeared,I just heard the voice . And so did Oggie. All it said was "get in here now. Wait till your father gets home ". Oggie immediately stopped the whooping,dismounted his vehicle and head hung low, went back into number three. Rikki Tikki looked on, stunned at the change in his dare-devil accomplice and suddenly looking lost ,quietly sloped off out of the Drive. Wings thoroughly clipped,both of them, and all by a disembodied voice. I have never seen Mrs. Shilpit, only Nobby ,and he does not seem to have much disciplinary hold over Oggie. But it is clear to me now, that not only is Oggie afraid to disobey her,she probably is the one who wears the doublet and hose in that particular toadstool.
I have just seen smoke rising over the fence at number 10. THe Dagworts have started some kind of a bonfire and the fumes are blowing in the direction of our side of the street.Thankfully, our toadstool windows are closed,but my nice clean window panes clearly won't benefit. I am assuming they are burning the brushwood they cut back a few weeks ago, and it is not just a sign that Mimsey is overheating further.
Summer seems to be bringing a kind of madness to the neighbourhood. It can only be good for our health and wellbeing that Pendragon and I are spending the weekend in the Metropolis.

Umbrellas and sou'westers may be needed tomorrow,my dear friends. May you all find a quiet spot to shelter from the damp and dreary days. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

The chilly winds of early Spring have returned with a bang to Dingley Dell. Any plans I had to do some leisurely planting in,have had to be put to one side,till the back and front gardens are considerably warmer. I have watered everything everyday in the last week, so all flowers big and little are putting on their best bibs and tucker. When you leave the toadstool and return you are met by such a sea of gold,and blue,purple and red,the corners of your mouth just cannot stop themselves from turning upwards into a smile. It is a glorious display,rain or shine. The last couple of days have been so busy ,as I have been setting up my new business on my electronic box. When I finished at Dingley Dell Academy I decided not to replace that job with another nine to five career. So my plan is to do several things to generate some extra income. My time is spent currently, improving my art work, writing my column for the Daily Scandal,selling used parchments on the electronic box, finding other journalistic work and making small garments for little sprites,through sewing and knitting. A lot you may say,but I only do each to complete deadlines,and there is still plenty of time to clean the toadstool, to drive out and about in my four wheeled motor carriage, to plan some nice meals for Pendragon and enjoy seeing some of my favourite friends.As they say, it is a nice life.
I have had some positive comments about my column in the Daily scandal from those who know who "Amarantha" is. Constructive in the main,but no one has held back if they have had something negative to say. Many have said "Why was it so short ? There's so much more you could have said to that poor elven woman ."
They are right, but with only one hundred words you simply have to condense your thoughts. I did suggest they appealed to old Cumberpatch if they want more of a good thing. They have all agreed with me about the stealing from the Supermercantile ,though. You just cannot condone taking things which do not belong to you. I have wondered what has happenend since my reply was printed. Has he told his parents ? Did they listen ? Is he alright ? It has crossed my mind,as you know, that the letter may have been written by one of my next door neighbours,Wally Shilpit, at number 3. But nothing obviously has happened yet to let me know if that is true. I saw Oggie the Hood arriving home at four tonight,sucking a frosted lollipop between his jaws,and he did not look either remorseful or subdued.I fear if it was Wally who wrote ,he may lack the courage to do what he knows is morally right, and may have decided to leave the situation to fate. Brother Oggie will no doubt get his comeuppance in the fullness of time. I just hope he doesn't mess up family life completely in the process. And brother Wally may regret not having sought a more immediate solution.
I was in the garden at lunchtime,chasing a couple of snails from my pots when Mimsie Dagwort from number 10 passed. She was off to work in the Metropolis,and looked very smart in her navy geldmarket uniform. Mimsie is a white witch,with the most gentle of personalities,who lives for her family.She said hello and spun me the sweetest smile. It is very pleasing when neighbours remember the social niceties.When she had turned the corner I realised tthat she was probably amused at my snail chasing ritual.Everytime I picked one up,I went uuurgh, before dropping it in the bucket.I did this at least 6 times, before throwing them over the garden wall. It must have looked rather strange to the observer. I don't mind snails having a life, but I don't want them to nourish themselves at the expense of my garden. Last year I had pots of nasturtiums whose leaves were riddled with holes. If my snailchasing fails I may have to consult Mimsie Dagwort for a suitable spell or two.
Pendragon is back from his lecturing engagement in the West . He was very romantic last night after supper. He told me he had missed me, and how much I mean to him. He gave me such a huge hug, and kissed my elven ears (a very sensitive spot for elven folk). Tonight I shall make my spinach and dandelion tortilla wrap for him as these are his favourite finger food. Tomorrow I need to travel to Brigantia to sort out some financial affairs at the geldmarket there. I may scan some of the Clothing mercantiles too,as Pendragon and I are staying in the Metropolis for a long weekend.
I want to look cute and sassy for my fiance.
May much satisfaction come to you from your labours ,my friends, and your coffers be eternally filled with geld. From all at Flowerpot Cottage,especially Amarantha,the Rainbow Faery.

I have been staying in my former house in Brigantia for a couple of days. Pendragon is travelling to the west to give a lecture in the Great Western University, so I went to Brigantia to do some work on the toadstool there. It is a very pleasant little place with two large bedrooms,and quite a big garden. I chose some new colours to paint the hallway,one of the bedrooms and the cookhouse. I kept busy,as I always miss Pendragon when he is away. He calls me on the woodland phone when he can, to reassure himself that I am alright.+ We laugh a lot on the phone, and look forward to being together again. I came back early today to my beautiful Flowerpot Cottage.. The sun was shining over the toadstool roof,and every flower smiled at me as I carried my overnight satchel up the path. Inside I made myself a peppermint tisane and re-read my draft for my column at the Daily Scandal. I was pleased with what I had put together. Both replies were within the 100 word limit set by Cumberpatch,and I felt I had been true to myself in what I had replied. To the lady with no confidence,despite an embarassment of riches, I urged her to write down all the things she felt she could do, her skills,and good points - no time was to be spent writing down anything that she "had". Then to think of all the ways in which she could use those skills -maybe for charity,maybe by taking a course/class in something, maybe by helping someone. Happiness and confidence come through our relationships with others. Feeling valued by others comes from what we give to folk in terms of time.I feel she needs to be dwelling less upon herself,and spending more time on just enjoying the adventures which life can bring. One step at a time,though.Start with something comfortable for herself,and then see where it leads. She has a close friend whom I am sure will want to help her find the first rung of the ladder. She must take courage and confide in her. As for the husband who does not have time to understand, well, when he finds her busy with her new activities, maybe he will see things and her, in a new light. If not, hopefully she will have the confidence to see him for what he is ,and ditch him with the fortnightly rubbish.!!
Letter two was more difficult,dealing as it was, with taking stuff from the supermercantile. The sprite who wrote the letter about his brother, clearly knows such behaviour is wrong,but is torn about what to do. Yet he has not told anyone, even his goblin mother and father.It certainly won't be easy telling them what his brother is getting up to. But I can't let him think that it is ok to turn a blind eye to it. So I told him the right thing to do is to tell whichever parent he feels he can talk to .Do it,and do it quickly. It may not be pleasant,but it is for the best.And in the long run,it will help his brother. You are never to young to learn that sometimes you have to stand up and be counted.
And so the column begins with some straight talking. It may not be the only way,but it is the way of Amarantha.
I dropped my ramblings off at the Daily Scandal. Portamus doffed his cap in my direction,and handed me next week's letters to be getting on with. He didn't comment on my work other than to say "no more than 100 ,remember."
I headed off for a late afternoon acorn tea in the Jolly Woodman, to celebrate my first column. One thing led to another, and I emerged, skipping, into the breezy air with four boxes of plants for the garden, fresh earth, new plant pots, and some cheeky nibbles for my friends ,the birds. A true day of celebration. Twilight found me,strolling round the garden, watering them with my Jolly Green watering can . I can't wait to bed them in tomorrow Won't Mandolini and the Backyard Boys be pleased ?.
Much good potting in the shed,to you all my fine friends, and may all your peonies and lobelia be trailing ones .From dearest Amarantha, the wild and woolly Rainbow Faery.

Pendragon prepared me a beautiful vegetable risotto last night,then presented me with a bag from one of the Metropolis's finest boutiques. Inside were two of the prettiest pieces of nightwear that I have ever seen.In white lace,with finely scalloped edges. One was short and the other full length,and I could not decide which one to go to bed in last night. Eventually I settled on the shorter one. I felt very feminine wearing it,and Pendragon was full of compliments. Since I finished working at Dingley Dell Academy, I have not been very confident in myself ,vestment wise. I used to wear rather masculine tailored clothing when I worked there,as I was a manager, and needed to exude a certain resposible presence about the place. Now I don't need to do that,and I need to redefine my style again. How do I want to appear to others ? Flighty and frivolous in gossamer gowns ? Smart and casual in pants and tunics ? Expensively coutured ? Or just like any other Dingley Dell floosie,in petal pink sports pants and hoodie top ? I certainly think I am a woman born to stand out in the crowd . Pendragon wants me to be comfortable in whatever I wear,but I think he does feel I could spend more time on myself,and that quite a lot of my clothing needs replaced. So I shall be making more frequent trips into Metropolis in my search for a new style for Amarantha.It has not been my custom to spend too much on summer clothing,as I felt I never got much wear from them. Dingley Dell summers tend to be rather lukewarm,but Pendragon and I take more vacations overseas now, so my travel wardrobe has been enhanced. Maybe I could persuade Piccallilli Peasegood to come with me sometime. She would leave no stone unturned in searching for the ultimate outfit,and I am sure we would be laughing all the way to the checkout.
Today I got down and pretty dirty in the back garden doing some heavy weeding.One of the flowerbeds seems overgrown already,due to the heavy rain. So I had a ruthless moment,(not like me at all) and pulled out all the cineraria,and some of the poppy plants. Poppy plants spread so vociferously if not kept in hand. I dug the bed over,spread a new layer of topsoil,and left it in a ready state for some new planting.I checked out the front space, making sure that the pots were either completely overhauled, or left ready for some new bedding plants as well. I am off to a new place in Brigantia tomorrow,run by Snobbie the Gnome,where I hope to find some interesting garden greenery. I also did my first read through and draft for my Daily Scandal column. It is to be called "Asking Amarantha" initially and can be found on page 20, between the Puzzle Teasers and the Gardening Hints . Portamus Cumberpatch has promised me better billing if my agony answers are popular with enough of his readers. I have chosen two problems which I felt it within my range to respond to.One was a letter from a wealthy elven lady,who said she had no confidence in herself.Her family are grown,and her paramour away travelling for great parts of the year. She feels he takes no interest in her life. When he is home he sleeps, expecting her just to attend to his meals and his washing. She has lost all sense of her own womanliness, The second letter was from a young pixie lad, and may be more difficult to answer.He said his brother was continually taking "stuff " from local supermercantiles,and he did not know what to do about this,but was worried that his brother would end up in a faery institute for young offenders before too long .He said that his nosey neighbour has already spotted this happening. Since this letter keenly resembles the situation with my young neighbours Wally and Oggie,at number three, I shall have to be very careful not to allude to them. Since I know that young Wally would never see me as "nosey" (how could he ?), and have great doubts that his spelling skills could be this perfect, I have to presume that Dingley Dell is awash with other thieving hands and literate juvenile miscreants.
Maybe it has been written by the brother of thr redheaded Rikki Tikki the Red, a candidate for faery penitentiary if ever I saw one. I am taking this evening to consider my responses,before making my final submissions to Cumberpatch on Tuesday. I would like my first steps in print to be suitably enlightening.
Pendragon will no doubt cast a wary eye over my ramblings to ensure they are neither plagiaristic or libelous. I would hate my journalistic endeavours to be over before they begin.
Much good reading in your local scandalsheet, to you all my friends, and may all your problems be answered in no more than 100 words. From Amarantha,the everlovely Rainbow Faery.

As I was waiting for Pendragon to arrive today, in the "Buttercup Bistro", my thoughts returned to the very first time we met at another waterside 7 years ago. It was the summer of 2001, I was beginning a seven week break from Dingley Dell Academy, and I was about to go on a week long landscape painting course on the outskirts of the Metropolis. I packed my materials and a few summer vestments ,and headed off for a well deserved break in the country. I stayed in a little farm cottage,fending for myself, knowing that I could always find a teahouse or restaurant if I did not want to cook. On the Monday I arrived at what was little more then a large shed to begin my artistic endeavours. This was to be our base, and where we would receive our instruction for the week. I wandered inside to find a couple of elven ladies already there,making themselves a cup of tea. I said a cheerful hello.They looked in my direction,mumbled a hello back,and then proceeded to finish their own conversation. I made my own tisane and found a seat,waiting for the others to arrive.They duly did,but my heart sank to find they all seemed to know each other,and were not much bothered about meeting anyone new. I hoped it would all become more convivial as we got started. There were ten of us, six elven ladies, two tubby dwarves, a boggart gentleman, and a wizard from the Southern Regions. The teaching artist was very nice, but she had her work cut out just doing the teaching and checking how we were all getting on. We mixed watercolours in the morning,stopped for lunch,and then were transported to the waterside in East Metropolis to do some outdoor sketching. When we stepped out of the transporter carriage ,everyone disappeared to find their own subjects to draw, leaving me on my own for the rest of the afternoon. I did not mind so much as I was busy sketching, but after a couple of hours,in a cold and increasingly rainy spot,I have to admit I could have done with hearing the sound of a friendly voice. Later in the afternoon, we all returned to the shed to show our work and have a final cuppa. Once again they all drifted off in their own little groups to chat, leaving me feeling like the village wallflower. I was cold and wet,and fed up,so I gathered my things and left. Back in my wee croft, I really wanted just to pack my things and come home. I had paid for a week's tuition, and I am usually made of sterner stuff, not allowing a few unsociable types to get the better of me. I decided to return to the course for one more day. If it failed to improve, then on Wednesday morning, I would go off and do my own thing,just painting for myself.
I was in the shed pretty early,and determined just to be myself.I had wrapped myself up in a blue woollen overtunic and my bright red waterproof cape, to stay warm. I had all the allure of a Metropolis bag-elf.
I said hello to everyone,to much the same response as on the Monday, and was just in about to speak again,when the door opened and an elven fellow,new to the course,walked in. He breezed over to the tea table, picked up a cup and said,with a transatlantic lilt in his voice ,"Hi,my name's Pendragon. Pendragon Willow.Pleased to meet you all. " As we drank our tisanes,he suggested that we find a seat together where we began setting up our things, chatting about this and that,till our drawing class began.During the day, he was never very far away, and by the time we went home, I knew that I would return the following day if he was there. On Wednesday we shared our evening meal in a nearby hostelry. I was glad to be able to show him that I looked much better when I was not wearing an old red cape and no makeup. We laughed and shared tales of our lives,the happinesses and sadnesses so far. We really enjoyed each other's company. On Friday at the end of the course, he asked for my woodland telephone number, and waved goodbye. I had had a very happy week,just getting to know him,and now he was gone. I drove back to my home in Brigantia, and never expected to hear from him again. On the Saturday morning the woodland phone rang. It was Pendragon. We talked for a couple of hours, before he asked me to catch a tram and meet him in Metropolis. The rest is history as they say. We still enjoy spending time together whatever the task,or pleasure. He is still my favourite elven gentleman, and undoubtedly my soulmate. To this day, neither of us can remember anything about the other members of that landscape painting course ,although we spent five days with them. We only had eyes for each other it seems.
We are home this weekend in our wonderful Flowerpot Cottage, and loving every minute despite recurrent showers,and intermittent thunder and lighting.
Much happiness to you all my friends in your little elfen homes, and may the tremors of this good earth not give you a poor night's rest. From Amarantha,soon to become Mrs. Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

I was woken gently to the sound of Pendragon shuffling to and fro getting ready for work this morning. He looked rather dazed, as he shambled around looking for fresh hose. I had some time to study him through my half open eyes. He is not tall,but perfectly formed for his height. Sandy coloured hair and golden skin,and with the bluest of blue sparkling eyes.He returned from the kitchen in a few minutes with a hot cup of my detox tea. Nettles,hibiscus and dandelion root all blended together,working on my internal system to wash out any impurities,keeping my skin and nails, and complexion fresher than fresh.It is not the most appealing of tisanes,until you get used to it. It has taken me three years but now I gulp it down and actually enjoy the faint bitterness of the leaves. I took the tea, smiled good morning to him, and received a large wet kiss for my trouble. I said "cheerybye| and heard his gentle feet trip back downstairs. I heard the door close,and and decided it was time for me too to rise and meet the day. Pendragon is working late in Metropolis tonight, so I will use the time to catch up on some of my chores,and do a little writing for my weekly column.After a fair bowl of my blueberry porridge, I sorted out some of my summer vestments, and put some much needed order into some of my paperwork. The weather outside was threatening rain,so I wrapped myself up in my pretty green waterproof cape and headed out to get the tram to Metropolis. I wanted to track down a paper pattern for my bespoke betrothal gown. Pendragon and I had some initial talks last weekend with the Elven Seamstress, and when I visit next week I want to at least take a picture of a possible gown with me. The main body of the dress will be burgundy satin,with white satin used as a complimentary material.The gown will be Renaissance style ,with a burgundy bodice, burgundy overskirt, cream/white satin underskirt and burgundy red/white long sleeves. I trekked about the principal dressmakers in Metropolis before finding a pattern I liked,not in the right shades but in the shape of my dream dress.I also looked at some materials,but I want to look further before deciding upon anything. My petite feet were a little weary by this time ,so I found the nearest tearoom, "The Green Bean", and had a tasty vegetable pasty for lunch. The tram brought me back quickly to Dingley Dell,as it made very few stops on the way.There was only myself and an aged boggart at the front of the tram,and he was snoring merrily all the way. Everytime he snorted out,his long whiskers blew upwards in tandem. I read my book and stared out of the window in turn,waiting for the heavens to open, and knowing a gigantic wetness would follow. It started just as I left the tram ,and by the time I put the key in our toadstool lock, there was a heavy pitter patter on the front step. Pendragon called me on the woodland voice box,as the cuckoo was marking five,to tell me he has purchased some nice lacy articles for me which he found in a store in Metropolis. He would not give me details, so all I can hope is that they bear some resemblance to my present size,and they won't be something you would only want to wear on a very cold night,with your tartan bedsocks.
He is the sweetest fellow,always thinking of how he can enhance my life . Yet, all I need or want is him.He has added so immeasurably to my happiness since we met.Tomorrow,we will meet in our usual Saturday haunt, "The Buttercup Bistro" ,for a couple of coffees and to to hear each other's news. Then walk by the harbour,watch the seagulls hopping about on the sand ,share a couple of kisses by the Lifeboat shed and walk home up the hill,to Lobelia Drive.I hope the weather will have settled,as there is much to do in the garden. My unplanted pink dianthus simply won't wait.
A very pleasant Friday evening to you all,my friends, and may the Lifeboat shed be just as generous to you. From Amarantha Willow, the most benificent Rainbow Faery.

"Never cast a clout till May is out", is an old Celtic saying much favoured in the elven world. But with temperatures in Dingley Dell remaining very high all day today,I had to search through last year's summer wardrobe to find something cool enough for the day. Light navy wide linen pants and a navy loose crinkle fabric tunic seemed to call out to be worn for my late morning trip to Brigantia. Before noon I busied myself putting the sparkle back into Flowerpot Cottage ready for the weekend. I had just put away my polishing rags,and was turning the lid on my jar of beeswax,when the woodland telephone rang out in the main room. A very soft and gentle voice said," Is that Amarantha Willow ? This is Zukinta Romantika from " Betrothal Monthly", and I"m phoning to congratulate you. You have won 500 pieces of elven geld to put towards the payment for your betrothal rings. " I was astounded, astonished, and lost for words all at the same time. I eventually summoned up a rather weak "thank you",and a cheerie goodbye,before dropping down in an ungainly heap on our settee. I do remember filling in the form for this competition, but not what I had to do to win.I must have done something right though, for a brand new bespoke platinum betrothal band is to be mine. Pendragon phoned just as I was leaving for Brigantia .His voice went to a surprised squeak when I told him . "Well done,my honey ", he said. Maybe you could try some more, and get me a pair of brown suede pointy shoes. "
I floated out to our four wheeled motor carriage, and drove in somewhat of a cautious haze, to my former home in Brigantia. I spent a couple of hours cleaning and another two painting the toadstool hallway there. A beautiful light jade for walls and paintwork. I"ll finish it next week,as there is much to cover.
The cuckoo stepped forward at the turn of three and there was a very sharp rap on the door to follow. It was Diaphnous from next door, wife of Gerontius, mother of Blip,the sprite from the depths of the Bog. He is very rude, misuses his mother, is selfish and often in trouble, causing Diaphnous much heartache. She came laden with parcels,left for me by Tamlin the post pixie. She began by saying she was in a hurry, and then spoke for a solid hour on the doorstep,giving me the full extent of her woes with Blip. I offered all the advice I could, all immediately rejected by her, and it left me wondering if the readers of my column in the "Daily Scandal", would be so cavalier with my words of wisdom.
Pendragon was already chopping vegetables on my return, with which to stuff some sweet red bell peppers.The aroma of garlic vied with the smell of newly baked walnut bread and together they filled the kitchen with the tempting promise of a fine supper. Pendragon is a bit of a Masterchef,and I love the evenings when I can come home to one of his culinary surprises. We celebrated my competition win with a couple of glasses of cherry and elderflower mead. While we awaited the roasting peppers,I watered our plants in the front and back gardens. Everything is blooming,but their little raised heads showed how ready they were for a long cold drink. Mandolini and the Backyard Gnomes had clearly been busy while I was out ,for I could not find a single weed. They were all lying under the pink Begonia,save for Verde who was nowhere to be seen. At last I found him, looking a little miserable beside the Birdhouse. Unfortunately my enthusiastic watering had soaked him through. "You will have to move a little more smartly, Verde," I said. I rubbed him dry with the sleeve of my old garden cardi. He rejoined the others,looking much happier,and no doubt a good deal cleaner than he was before. Gnomes are not known for their frequent visits to the bathroom. Before bedtime tonight I mean to give a first read through to the pile of letters Portamus Cumberpatch gave me, as I have to write my first column this weekend. I am already feeling a slight flutter in my elfen tummie at the responsibility of it all.
Much bathing in the sun this weekend to you all,my friends, and may all last summer's vestments still cover everything they need to. From sweet Amarantha, an ear for all your woes, the delectable Rainbow Faery.

I woke up this morning,with thoughts of yesterday's trip swirling round in my head.It had been such a wonderful day . Images of walking round the island, picnicing on the grassy knoll with Piccallilli,and the breeze blowing through my hair on board the ferry, resurfaced with such clarity,I almost felt I could touch the Isle of Mikkelbark in my mind, it seemed so real. I spent the morning bustling round the toadstool,doing everyday chores,but my mind was somewhere else most of the time. Spending the day with my dear friend and ex-colleague had also allowed memories of another time and place to resurface too. Only the good times to begin with - the plays and entertainments we had worked on together, the happy times we shared working together with the smallest sprites, helping each other to achieve something new,her dogged perseverance with a task, her faith in me as a manager and organiser. Happy days.But the last eighteen months had been less than happy for both of us.She, misused at times,and not given an adequate measure of respect for her successes, and myself drowning in anxiety,working for someone with neither the vision,talent or sufficient skills for his post. Some folk would say it doesn't matter any more. I am free at last from the despair of it all.I will cling to the good memories as my life moves on, and know that the hurtful recollections will fade away. I can only hope that Piccallilli too will find the same measure of peace in time. All this inevitable soul searching drove me to the shoe rack by the front door. I needed to see the sun now, and remind myself that there was more to life than picking over my past. I put on my favourite navy linen tunic top and matching leggings, and tied on a pair of pale pink pointy slipperettes.They are my most favourite Spring footwear,and emerge from the shadows of the oaken wardrobe at this time to spur me to great deeds. I found them on a beach several years ago,probably left behind after another's picnic. I fell in love with them immediately,so light and lovely,with long silken ties. I float along on their pink leather soles, invogorated for the rest of the day. I walked down to the shoreline,and watched the tide bumping against the harbour wall. The Big Water was strong and lively, and pressing forward with all its might.I walked all the way back to my red four wheeled carriage, feeling restored,and full of renewed zest,maybe having absorbed some of that great water's power into myself.At home, I took out my silver bells,to practise a little before Pendragon arrived home. We often play together in the evenings, he on the lute,harmonising with the tinkle and ring of the elven bells. The sweet sound reminded me that all that I have, is all that I need. True happiness always lies very close to home.
Wishing much music and love in your lives, dear friends ,and may all your slipperettes be pink ones.
From Amarantha, the Rainbow Faery.

Tuesday has brought rising temperatures reaching 22o as the afternoon approached. A beautiful day to be going out and a beautiful day to be out at sea. My good friend Piccallilli Peasegood,finding herself with a day to spare, due to Dingley Dell Academy being closed for an essential repair, has agreed to take the ferry with me to the Isle of Mikkelbark. We had a late breakfast and a giggle at the Buttercup Bistro, before making our way to the ferry. Piccallilli's scrambled egg parfait and my hot berry souffle with honey toast really hit the spot and we settled back in two charming window seats to finish our acorn brew and catch up with news. To be honest I know when I meet Piccallilli that she will tell me the truth,even though she knows how much I loved the old Academy, and how much it hurts me to hear how the present Head Teacher is letting standards drift. "We all really miss you ",she said for at least the tenth time since I retired. "Everything seems wrong there now, without you. Nothing is any better. The longer he's in charge,the more everyone feels that something needs to change, and no one knows what to do. He just won't listen." I understand what she means,because that is really why I left. Months and months of trying to help,and trying so hard to sort things,but going to bed at night,knowing that nothing seemed to make any difference, and not being able to sleep,although I was completely emotionally exhausted.
Seeing the slightly guilty look appearing on my face, she hastily said,"No one blames you. They all understand why you went, and they all hope you are having the kind of life they all wish they had".
Piccallilli brought the smile back with a cheery hug and a gently delivered "It's not your worry any more". I changed the subject with a speedy request to know what was happening on the "affair front". How were our dear Chief Catering Officer,Dolores Dinkweed, and the caretaker Ferrungus Belch getting on, or off as the case might be ?
Piccallilli put on her gossiping hat at this point,bending closer to my left pointy ear in a small bid to be discreet. Unfortunately she delivers at twenty decibels ,so all tables within fifty feet would be included in the secret. "Well",she said, Dolores is back at work,telling everyone who will listen,that the story circulating about her infidelity, is a pack of lies. She would never do anything to upset her current paramour, Nooksmith Dinkweed, even if he is a notorious drinker and chaser of elven skirt. She cries at the drop of a hat", said Piccallilli, but is still being seen sneaking into the caretaker's lair when she thinks no one has clocked her. As for the bold Ferrungus, he is a broken boggart, still wearing sackcloth and ashes and a huge board round his neck,declaring "IT WISNAE ME." At this,I am sorry to say,we both dissolved into hysterical laughter, for which we should be thoroughly ashamed. Piccallilli always cheers me up, she is a much better story teller than I , on every occasion.
We found a long queue forming as the ferry boat "The Lass of the Loch" moored at the pier. We found two seats to the rear of the ferry,so that we could capture all the delights of the Big Water with our digital picture snappers. It was so beautiful to be out on the water. The sky was a perfect blue behind a thin film of fluffy whiteness. A gentle breeze blew round our shoulders as we soaked up the sun. We approached the Isle of Mikkelbark , followed by flocks of seabirds coming in to land on the surrounding rocks. Families of seals basking in the warmth of the day, rose and waddled to the shoreline as the ferry boat came in to moor. The master of the boat passed us on his way to the prow, bucket in hand. We watched as he lobbed the bucket full of fish scraps into the grey water and in the direction of the blubbery hord es.Some caught the fishy meal in the air,others dived down into the watery abyss,and returned with the fishy spoils in their mouths. Piccallilli and I watched this with somee excitement and no small pleasure.
Once on shore we undertook a mile long walk round the isle,studied the half ruined outhouses,long since abandoned, and sat on a delicious grassy knoll,studying the bird life and dipping into our packed lunch knapsacks and flasks of nettle tea.The Isle of Mikkelbark is a natural beauty spot, with only the grassy element having been scythed to make sightseeing easier. We picked from clumps of gorse, and rosewood blossoms,bluebells and celandines,wild daisies and thyme.Piccallilli packed bunches into her empty knapsack to show the children back at the Academy. We returned to the ferry at three precisely,and enjoyed a slightly cooler but just as pretty sail back to Dingley Dell Pier.I said goodbye to Piccallilli Peasegood in the four wheeled carrriage holding area, and thanked her for her company on such a wonderful day out.I cannot be certain,but I thought I spotted a tiny tear escape from her eye, as she hugged me tight. "I'll see you soon,"I said. "Take good care, and may all your days be such happy and exciting ones."
I waved as she drove off in the cooling of the day. Such friends are hard to find and must never be forgotten. I mentally made a note to find another such day and time to enjoy the delights of her company in the not too distant future. Till then I have a knapsack full of blossoms and picture snappings to regale Pendragon with,over our supper.
May you all,my friends, be enjoying the fruits of a beautiful day and be relaxing in the mellowness of Maytime weather.
From Amarantha Willow,your Rainbow Faery.

Today is May Day Feastday, and a National Holiday for most of Dingley Dell .Everyone it seems but my poor Pendragon. Because he works in a Metropolis Care Centre, he has to follow the rota lists as set down. As we have no sprites of our own, Pendragon often finds himself detailed for work on public holidays.It is deemed more appropriate to award such leisure times to families to spend together. I hope they are enjoying quality time in each other's company and not wasting it doing humdrum activities like washing or shopping. I waved goodbye to him wistfully this morning,knowing that he won't be home again until tomorrow evening. He has urged me to enjoy the day,but I have let much of it drift by a little aimlessly,catching up with household chores ,dealing with some overdue correspondence and some gardening chores. The weather is beautiful outside,so I ate lunch in the backyard,while Mandolini and the boys caught up with their tasks of the day. Mandolini stood in a position of authority at the door of the Sun Room,watching while the other three scattered themselves around the borders. Basso Profundo and Verde sought shelter under the rhododendron bush, to avoid the hottest rays of the day.The bush is laden with burgeoning deep pink blossom ,casting a long and heavy shadow on the pale grey bricks of the patio.Settled there for the afternoon,Verde gazed intently at his gardening manual,while Basso Profundo peered over his shoulder,no doubt looking for inspiration from the unfolded pages. Pianolo lay under the wooden birdhouse,watching the starlings gather their noontime repast, and keeping count of the vast number of sunflower seeds and peanuts they were guzzling into their empty beaks. The still of the garden afforded me some personal thinking time,the perfect opportunity to compose letters to friends and relatives not contacted for a while. I was enjoying the laziness of the passing day, but knew this restful interlude would be over by the hour of three, as I had a late afternoon appointment with the editor of Dingley Dell's news rag,"THe Daily Scandal." I must on no account be tardy, as Portamus Cumberpatch is renowned for reducing the confidence of erstwhile elfen journos with two shakes of his milk white locks and a look that would curdle a newly laid egg. Wearing a light blue linen tunic and matching trews,with my 'Ideas' folder tucked under my arm, I was welcomed at the tiny newspaper office by Cumberpatch's secretary, who introduced herself as "just call me Faladinka". A rather weak and sickly cup of thistle tea followed,and I was just trying to decide into which plant pot I could safely despatch it , when Faladinka reappeared and said "Mr. Cumberpatch will see you now."
I discreetly abandoned my china goblet out of Faladinka's eyeline, and floated a little tremulously through the open door of the Editor's office. Portamus Cumberpatch was not as I had imagined him.He was rather less the captain of journalistic industry, and more the ageing retrobate,with time on his hands and mischief to make. He looked at me over a pair of spectacles,which had also seen better days,judging by their attachment to his face with only one working leg ,and a bridge held together with white packing tape. I smiled hesitantly in his direction."Welcome,Ms. Willow", he boomed at me ,and stretched out his left hand to draw me forward. Well,not so much a draw as a sharp pull. So hard, I almost fell on top of his broad mahogany desk. Steadying my balance,I stumbled into the waiting seat. I listened while he fed me the policy of the "Scandal",in the droning tones I suspect he regularly adopts for his shareholders. I remember none of it now,but it did give me time to assimilate his two small sparkly black eyes, his gat-toothed expressive mouth and his nose,broad enough and flat enough to be the landing strip for an aircraft carrier.He finished and I smiled weakly again. Taking this as some sign that I was in full agreement with all I had just heard, he chundered on with, "You start on Monday,here are some letters,thanks for coming.And remember, no more than one hundred words each,tea and sympathy,that's all they want." And with that ,before my "Ideas" folder had time to reveal its treasure within, his broad right arm had swept me to the door.
"Thank you " I squeaked,finding myself face to face with the incomparable Faladinka,who,wasting no time,with her broad right arm steered me to the outer door. I was outside before I knew it,and marvelling at their impressive teamwork. I was clearly going to be working for a formidable organisation.
My first deadline would be Tuesday's edition and there is much to read and write. Dear Pendragon will not believe that I went to an interview and only uttered two words. Inconceivable as it is to him,that his dear Amarantha would ever be at a loss for pertinent conversation. Tomorrow I have organised a special trip to give me the time to clear my thoughts before I begin writing my column. Piccallilli Peasegood and I are going to take the ferry from Dingley Dell Pier to the Isle of Mikkelbark ,famous for its rolling hills and wildlife inhabitants.I have always loved its untamed qualities and unspoiled beauty. Piccallilli has not seen it before and is excited to know its charms. Her unfolding of the next chapter of unlikely liaisons and rampant skullduggery at Dingley Dell Academy,as we cross the mighty Big Water, will be the icing on the cake.
Much pleasure in the warmth of the day, my friends, and a magnificent May Day Feast to one and all. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

The Primpoles next door at number 6 have a toadstool on wheels. It is a small one - roomed affair,and not built yesterday,but is still the source for them of several holiday breaks per year.They do not generally say more then hello or cheerio to either Pendragon or myself, so we never know their destination when they set off into the blue beyond. On Saturday morning, bright and early,the toadstool on wheels had its door flung open and Severity Primpole, wash pail in hand, descended upon it,and clambered inside. Everything,from rag ribbon rugs to faded bedding cushions, was flung outside on the cement pathway next to our four wheeled carriage holder.The wheeled toadstool seemed to sink a little lower with the weight of Severity inside, and soon the sound of her bustling about,making the dull brown interior sparkle and shine, was significantly louder than the dawn chorus.Half an hour later,Weedy emerged from the Primpole cottage with bags and boxes of necessities for a new trip to celebrate the May Day Dew Holiday.He had not balanced everything as he should,and before long he was leaving a trail of tea bags, and soap suds, paper towels and broken biscuits from his garden gate to the door of their getaway toadstool.A few curses under his breath later,Severity was standing watching him stagger and stumble from the doorway,hands on hips and face like thunder.
"You had better pick all that up,before you do anything else." she snapped. But when he did bend over to pick up what he could, it only served to imbalance him further,and more items tumbled to the ground. Severity's screech level was now reached . "Watch what you're doing. Give me that. Look at the mess.How could you ? You are dropping everything. Stop that. I said watch what you are doing. Get in here now. Don't pick those up.They are ruined. I'm not eating those. Oh, get out of my sight. "
Weedy was stunned by this barage into standing completely still and not replying to any of the abuse. I fear he had trodden through this path of unworthiness before. She advanced towards the debris, and gathering all of it up in her sinewy stubby fingers, swept Weedy and herself into their mobile home,from which the sounds of further beratement continued.
I heard all this from the relative safety of our front garden at Flowerpot Cottage. Severity is someone who has always struck me as having a relatively short fuse in times of trouble.Weedy,having signed up with her for the long betrothal haul,clearly knows this and presumably has learned to deal with these outbursts. However when he passed back into number three(to collect replacement chocolate chip munchies,I would imagine) I distinctly overheard him mutter under his breath," I"ll get them when I"m ready !". At the door he turned and pointing emphatically in Severity's direction,(although she was too distant to have seen him do so) said with pique in every syllable - " So there. Put that in your elfen pipe and puff it."
He banged the door behind him.I smothered a small escaping giggle and pretending not to have noticed, continued pruning the honeysuckle by the door. They must have smoked the pipe of peace later, for by two in the afternoon,I saw them hitching the mobile toadstool to their four wheeled motor carriage,lead out the wildebeests and put them on their back seat, and eventually head off for a vacation somewhere green and woody. The cul -de -sac always seems quieter when they have gone. No dogs bark relentlessly day or night, and you forget to fear the red in their eyes as you pass the iron gate. Maybe they will take a longer break on this occasion,and our shattered nerves will enjoy a well earned celebration.
Pendragon and I really enjoyed our theatrical outing in the Metropolis last night. The comical drama we saw was beautifully written,and very funny indeed. Curdken Finnbar and Sensonita Rush had superb comedic timing,and the rest of the cast were able additions to the teamwork on stage.We walked home to Pendragon's city toadstool,with a light in our eyes and fun in our hearts. We do so love our metropolis weekends and I know that Pendragon has many more such outings planned.We love the theatres,we love the eateries, we love the cityscapes and trendy filmhouses. Tomorrow I go to meet Portamus Cumberpatch,the editor of the Dingley Dell Daily Scandal,to discuss my new column as "agony elf." I am to write for the local broadsheet twice every week, answering local readers' problems,and commenting on life's dilemmas along the way. I am anticipating this new role with much joy,and not allowing the reputation of the worthy Cumberpatch as a bit of an unforgiving tyrant ,to put me off. I shall dress in my finest executive vestments,and smile all the while,no matter his forbidding exterior. Pendragon has advised that I make no attempt to try to alter the fine person that I am, as Cumberpatch merely wants a nosey parker of the highest order. I am a mite uncertain as to why he would feel that I would fit the bill, but will trust that my true rainbow colours will cast a comforting glow throughout tomorrow's proceedings.
Much striving and successful endeavour in the new week to you all my friends, from Amarantha Willow, the dear Rainbow Faery

Oh, what a beautiful day it has been. Today was my last day in attendance at the Dingley Dell Heritage Week activities at the castle. It has been fun overall,despite very uncertain climes. I could have done without the rain always threatening,and cold seeping through to your bones under layers of warm woollen things.But there were many memorable moments. The sight of two jolly monks dancing the "Twist together " to keep warm,the incredible skill of the falconer in managing so many wild birds.The beauty of the young kestrel and the soft downy snowy owl,which blinked interminably in the early grey of the morning.Like us, he was probably thinking "what am I doing here ?" The dancing steps on the first floor,led by Queen Brighid the Bright,sometimes quickly picked up by the attendant sprites,and sometimes falling apart to the sound of merry laughter when everyone in the room seemed to have two left feet.The moves were simple,but the difficulty arose when each group had to move together,in time. I was called along to demonstrate and was much regaled by the cheering as I spun and slipped,and circled to the wistful tones of the clavicord,and the bells. I will also remember telling tales while the mist grew over the grey- pink clouds in the dim light of the castle.The early music group which played on ,apparently immune to the weather changes,lulling us all to the breathless rhythms of the lute,the mandolin and the faery lyre.We ate the food the Ancients would have eaten,wore the clothes, and told the tales. I left at noon,hardly daring to look back,yet knowing that we all had learned something about our culture,our history and ourselves this merrie old week. I am even looking at Queen Brighid with new eyes,such a stalwart as she was ,encouraging us all to get the most out of the experience.We WILL do this again.
I had an appointment at one with my favourite alchemist,Dr. Remedius. He was pleased to see me looking so bright and rosy cheeked,and commented that I did not need to dress up just for him. (I was still wearing my silver/black dress under my cloak,as I had had no time to change . It caused quite a stir in the waiting room too!)He was encouraging about the improvement in my left hand,gave me more ointment and reminded me to carry out the exercises from the Faery Physio. I told him I had been completely resting it,of course, which was nearly true. I did not want to spoil his day, by telling him that shopping at the mercantile frequently takes more than five fingers. Home then to pack,as tomorrow Pendragon and I are going in to the Metropolis for the weekend.On Saturday we have seats at the Theatre of the Comicals,to see "Brambles and Mandolins " by elven writer Daedanus Feat.The ticket blurb says the drama is a Celtic romp.with some well known theatricals in important roles. Great fun I think, and our pre theatre dinner will be in the "Tartan Archway",well known for its fine meads and herb souffles.On Sunday, Pendragon and I make our first visit to the Elven Dressmaker who will make my Betrothal Gown, and his doublet and hose. She has many fabrics to show, and a miriad of patterns to sift through. I hope this will not take too long as I know what I want and in which colours. She may of course have more problems with Pendragon,as right now, he says he'll agree to anything.Not while I'm around,he won't.
From Monday, I am finally starting some of the work projects I have been planning. Selling woollen vestments for young sprites and selling used parchments, using my electronic box are two, the third being writing a column in the Dingley Dell Daily Scandal.It will be called "Asking Amarantha" and will be open to all readers to send me their personal burning questions and problems for me to solve. Pendragon is particularly pleased as he feels that I have a natural penchant for this kind of work, - certainly,if the amount of time I spend watching other folk through the window ,and commenting on them, is anything to go by. Talking of that, I have spotted Oggie the Hood (from number three) running amok in the cul -de sac with his notorious playmate Rikki Tikki the Red, several times this afternoon. This does not bode well,for anyone with a four wheeled motor carriage, pet tortoise, glass garden house, or oaken gate. Since that includes all of us, tensions are about to rise. No toadstool is safe when either of these liabilities is around.They just look like they are looking for trouble. Oggie's permanent smirk will lead him to the jaws of some penal institution in the fullness of time,of that I have absolutely no doubt.
Wishing you all, my dear friends,a weekend of mirth and memorable musicality. From your favourite and new "agony elf",Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.