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.