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 .