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.
