toadstooltales

Another week begins with Pendragon quietly slipping through the white front door,so not to disturb a sleeping Amarantha. We lay awake till Wally the cuckoo clunked out at midnight,to remind us that work beckoned next day for Him and parchment duties for Me,so we fell to slumber.
I rose but took my time,running myself a pampering bath,being careful with my dressing and perfuming,and preparing a fruity breakfast and some light spelt toast. I had some administration to do for my used parchment business,but that done,I settled down in our Sun Room to reflect on the weekend.
The big happening of the weekend was my first rehearsal with the Metropolis Elven Theatricals. Pendragon accompanied me for moral support,and a tasty muffin/coffee brunch,and then disappeared for a few hours to make his own entertainment while I entered the portals of the Workshop.

Remindur Toastyspur, the Assistant Director for this production,met me at the door and ushered me to the theatre studio. Other cast members began to arrive,and they were a motley,if merry assortment. Five elven ladies,and seven strong elven actors.Over yet another acorn decaff. we shared experiences and personal details until Remindur called us to warm up. We stretched and groaned,finding muscles we wished we had honed for a few weeks prior to this,if only to conceal our embarrassment at the creaking sounds we emanated.We laughed ,breaking the ice, and got the measure of our fellow protagonists.

Remindur has said we will spend the next three weeks honing skils, and so he began with Choral Technique.
We divided into two groups,to work on a short piece for performance one hour later.
It was fun. I have worked with this company several times before,in this venue. Group members often change but modus operandi rarely does and that gave me some reassurance as I found my composure,and my remembered skills.
At three we devoured some oaten biscuits and hot tea,before another short rehearsal and then to performance. Choral technique demands precision to detail,good teamwork, being a listener,and making a strong effort to bond with the rest of the group. We had one reluctant participant in our group. Not to perform,just to perform with us. She kept interrupting to tell us she didn't agree with anything we were doing. Luckily our combined elven good humour,and the newness of our acquaintance stopped a more aggressive burst of tension,or one of us quite simply telling her to "take herself to the gates of Hades".

We performed,and it went well. Not perfect, but strong enough to impress our director. He felt we had done more than he had asked for, and rewarded us with great compliments. I have to admit that I felt that I had been noticed,as when my voice rang out loud and precise across the stage,I felt Remindur turn to take in my delivery. I have a striking ,clear voice with precise articulation,and my voice carries well. We finished at four,and when I strode to the front door,light of heart and high in spirits,my dear Pendragon was awaiting me with smiles and hugs.
We headed for home ,taking the tram to Lobelia Drive, with me hooting and laughing with excitement ,and describing the minutest of details to Pendragon which had occurred that afternoon.
He was very patient with me,sensing how much this matters to me. I have not undertaken a personal project of this kind for a little while. Commitments at Dingley Dell Academy always took priority. I am now doing this for me.
I can remember my very first adult flurry into the dramatic arts. I had seventeen elven years and enrolled for some evening classes, not sure then if I had any talent of note.The class wasn't going well,as most follk would not let their elven hair down long enough to rid themselves of inhibitions.The educator was looking peeved and struggling to give the two hour instruction period any life. He issued a challenge in our improvisation section.

"Here is a chair" he said. "I want you to think of the most unusual way you can use it. On no account must you use it as a seat ".
The class shuddered with the fear of inexperience. Two or three elves and goblin folk attempted something half-hearted that didn't quite work.
It was my turn next. I'll never know where the idea came from,but before I knew it I had positioned the chair,positioned myself,started breathing heavily and declared my chair to be "an iron lung". The room erupted in laughter. Good,friendly laughter. The instructor said "well done",and some other classmates,spurred on by my lack of inhibition, came up with some more idiosyncratic ideas. The class improved greatly from there on in. We had fun,learned a lot,and my thirst for an audience and working on stage had truly begun.
Dramatic Arts have given me so much over the years,but I feel there is still much to derive from this kind of communication and challenge as I feel my way in my New Life.
The day started with rain,and looks like it will end with another plout. It's windy here too,with just an oocasional burst of Mr. Sun. The garden continues to show off its colours,but we have had no time dry enough to enjoy a seat there,in the past fortnight.
May July be less uncertain and our tans grow less rusty. Talking of rusty,we saw Mimsey and Jeraboa Dagwort from number 10, return last night with their silver,camping trolley and their long faces.Two days away from children and damaged hedgerows do not seem to have lit the fires of renewed devotion. Mimsey left the motor carriage,stomped up the path,seemingly carrying all their holiday paraphernalia, and audibly banged their old oaken door shut. Not too hard ,Mimsey, you don't want another repair !!

The Primpoles at number six have not been seen for a few days,but I did notice their elder son and his elven wife come to call this morning. They seemed reluctant to enter Primpole Holdings without an angry exchange first,and only when their fiery spat ended with Her slapping Him from shoulder to thigh,did they push open the gate and dawdle up the path. Clearly Severity's warm relationship with Weedy,has rubbed off on the younger generation,and the ladies in that family clearly wear the lederhosen.
Pendragon is working tonight in Metropolis,but he will call soon to know that I am safe and well. Tommorrow I have a visit early to Dr. Scroat,and will spend some time contemplating the details of my new gossip column for the Daily Scandal.More fun and more business. However did I have the time to work before ? The difference now is that everything I do ,I WANT TO DO.

Much love to you all,my dear hearted friends. You listen with good humour to my quaint meanderings,allowing me to vent my cosmic spleen about the injustices and transgressions in the world, and celebrate the rectitudes and virtues,although sometimes they may seem a little more thin on the ground.
Stay strong nad believe in the good,for happiness and fortune will be yours.From all at number five,the fifth toadstool on the left,but especially Amarantha Willow ,the Rainbow Faery.

I must be feeling a lot better from my elven poorliness as I seem to be acquiring my interest in the rantings and ghastly behaviours of my neighbours again. I saw Mimsey and Jeraboa Dagwort last night,leaping (may be some exaggeration) into their dog-eared (classic) four wheeled motor carriage with a little silver mobile trolley attached behind.They were heading for, well somewhere. I was doing a spot of tidying behind the curtains,as you do, at twilight time, and I saw them set off. They did not stop long enough for a wave or a cheerie goodbye. Jeraboa was his usual sartorially unelegant self,in terracotta blouson and baggy,beige,cut-off hose.The short hose either needed to be longer,or his legs could do with some pruning below the knee. Either way they didn't seem to fit his lumpy body. Mimsey was her traditionally bleak self,with lowered sad eyes,under a large straw hat with a pink rose balancing precipitously over the brim. That was all the colour she could muster as the rest of her was pale grey,both top and botttom - baggy grey tunic and baggy grey slouching pants. Mimsey should not be grey, nor should her ample curvature be seen in anything remotely resembling slouching. In an outfit matching her pink rose she would have been a revelation.She seems to hide in her coverings,as though to be brighter would make more demand of her than she could bear. I often wonder if she is happy living with a warlock as incident prone as Jeraboa. Maybe she was once destined for greater things in her private circle. Living with the fatuous Jeraboa will have surely put paid to that........
There they were heading off into the blue beyond and a fence still reeling from Jeraboa's earlier conflagration. The slats unevenly nailed across the hedge are now hanging loose. The hedge has made no indication of its intention to grow back, and I have seen Oggie the Hood and Rikki Tikki the Red recently poking their light sabres into the gaping branch holes . It can only be a matter of time before some dastardly deed is done. Oggie has no conscience and Rikki Tikki has no sense,so between the two of them, that garden space will be open season for some vandalistic merrymaking.I must remain vigilant.
From the size of their silver mobile trolley,not much was being taken with the Dagworts. Pendragon says it is a holder for a tent,common to regular campers, who lack a purpose built storage vehicle.

Poor Mimsey.
I hope she is not nurturing thoughts of a romantic weekend under the stars,or rather ,under four poles and an old striped blanket,as I fear her dreams are about to be crushed. My good friend, Hazey Dillfoot, spent her first night with an ardent lover,in a shelter such as this, and four hours of constant precipitation,soon knocked the blistering heat out of that blossoming relationship.Sadly it never recovered. Mimsey may never recover,as wandering beasts in the night are oft times attracted to such structures,and take a predilection to storming the poles,or running amok with the covering material.

Poor Mimsey.
I must watch for their return,as she may need the comforting only a good neighbour can give.

I am going to be busy tomorrow,however. At last I am beginning my work with the Elven Theatricals in Metropolis. I am to meet with the company on Sunday afternoon,and begin some workshops devising scenes for the final production.It promises to be an enthralling piece, full of love,and duty, of revolution,and power, stealth and argument, contrition and devastation. A piece set in times of the Ancients,when they did not seem to have too much else to do apart from rampage and storm. Not too many laughs then, I would think,unless the rest of the cast are particularly entertaining. Pendragon will join me after my workshop,so we can take in a favourite coffee house and share the afternoon's tales.

My life is certainly busying up. There are lots of activities now in the offing. My theatrical piece, a week of art work in July, my new role with the Daily Scandal,starting in a few weeks, preparing for our betrothal,and visiting Dingley Dell Academy to present some awards next week.

However will I manage to find the time to do all of this, and keep a weather eye on the errant natures of all my neighbours, sweet talk my beautiful Backyard Boys, trim the lively wisteria,keep the home fires tastefully burning for Pendragon,and cock a snook at street corner toerags and other folks' red-necked husbands. What a woman I am ! No doubt I will only have the steely jaw and stout heart of my forefathers to fall back upon,but it should suffice.

A beautiful Saturday to you all, my dear and true friends. May all YOUR fences be fixed,and there be no slouch in YOUR palazzo pants. Life is for living, fun for the taking, let no minute be wasted in unnecessary assessment of the minutes passed. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

Since we returned from our weekend trip, I have been suffering from a bit of elven poorliness. Granitonda had been somewhat cold over our two day stay,and our trip a little tiring,but on Monday my temperature seemed to be high,my zest for life strangely low, and most of my waking hours seemingly found me performing with alarming frequency in the lavatorium. Flying germs ? Possibly. An upset stomach ? Possibly. A war torn bladder ? Very definitely.
Yesterday I rested for the greater part of the day ,only wrapping up to make my appointment with the Faery Physio. He could see that I was unwell, so kept the interview short,and bade me make a visit to the Alchemist,Dr. Scroat, as soon as an appointment was possible. I returned to my bed, sleeping right through until Pendragon's return in the evening.
He found me in the kitchen,struggling to organise myself and the evening dinner. He questioned me for a couple of minutes to try to identify what it was I was supposed to be putting together,but I was fevered and not making myself very clear. Pendragon put me back in our soft-pillowed bed,and left me to sleep for an hour or two. When Wally the toadstool cuckoo clattered out to the sound of seven, Pendragon appeared at the foot of our oaken couchette and uttered the magic words "Hot Soup".
Tomato and carrot,to be precise. Hot,sweet, and full of woodland goodness. He had also warmed a couple of warm oatmeal baps and layered two kinds of honey beneath the lids,hoping their royal jelly components would restore my joie de vivre. Nothing so miraculous did take place, but the warm liquid warmed my body
and stilled my fever,and allowed me to sleep right through the night.
i woke this morning feeling better. Not completely back to my ususal chirpiness,but well enough to call on Old Scroat, for some recuperation advice.
Wrapped up as though it were midwinter,,with two woolly scarves,and my woollen cape tightly wrapped around, I found myself in the surgery for thirty minutes past the eleventh hour.
Dr. Scroat was having a liquid break, so I sat chatting to the elderly elven lady, in the next wooden seat. She had a glossy magazine in hand,but was making much to me of the fact that it was full of dismal articles. I spared no time in recommending the new look Daily Scandal to her, emphasising its problem page and entertainment sections,as being very good reading value. She was just assuring me of her intention to follow my recommendation, when Jubilicious T. Scroat called for Amarantha Willow in Room number 4.
Jubilicious is a Dingley Dell alchemist of very long standing,who has the trust of all his patients in the village. Sometimes his remedies can seem a bit outlandish and involve the gathering of rare/unpalatable ingredients, but he has considerable knowledge of the potions of the Ancients,and is known to be sure-footed in his diagnostic and prescriptive solutions.
He could see that his favourite Amarantha was in poor spirits from the moment I opened his gnarled ebony door. He is always welcoming,but it was not long before his question and answer session had produced a lightning leap to his prescription pad.

"For the next five days,Amarantha, you must bathe in the oils of the evergreen eucalyptus, while wrapped in a hot mustard seed salve. Take these hawthorn and rosehip pastilles three times per day, and drink two cupfuls of sparkling water ,drawn from the Dingley Dell Spring,every four hours. I am sure you will be better in no time. How's the agony column going ?"

I can't say my conversation was scintillating, but we did share a few bon mots, before I carried my weary bones to the door. I smiled a wan goodbye, before heading to the dispensary to collect my ingredients.
They made a huge bagful,,especially the eucalyptus leaves, which I stuffed into the front seat of the car.

Pendragon telephoned on the woodland phone to find out how his lovely patient was doing.He got a few grateful grunts in reply,then he offered to make the mustard seed salve. It is a smelly,messy job and my darling is welcome to it,I am afraid, but I know he will do it well. He has even offered to rub it in, so selfless an elven creature is he.
I am sitting now in my most comfy of nightgowns,pink slipperettes tied with gossamer bows,and my most favourite cranberry scarf wrapped round my scrawny aching neck. I will sleep soon. And when I wake my dear Pendragon will be home,ready and willing to find some comestible which I feel ready to swallow,and to tuck my tiny tootsies back up again in our cosy four poster.
He is such a fine fellow.He loves me to read my diary to him every night,so that he can be kept posted about my worries,and troubles, and share the adventures of the day.
He said to me on Sunday,that he had written an entry for my diary,which he hoped I would like.

So today,this is the Addendum of Pendragon,Mystic,Philosopher,and Healer of Souls.(and maker of mustard seed salve.)
I have not altered it in any way,so will have to accept compliments and brickbats with equal good humour.
.........................................................................................................

My dear Amarantha is such a sweet elf,I just have to intervene in her daily communications from Dingley Dell. I have asked her to take the betrothal ceremony with my elven self,and she has graciously consented. I am so very happy because she has said "yes". Our betrothal will be one of the happiest events in our joint lives together. I know that Amarantha's readers might think I'm taking on quite a bounteous and bountiful handful, though in that they would be WRONG.
She is the most delightful elf in our green ecosphere.Now some of you may feel she is a little too curious about our nearby neighbours and their shenanigans in their little toadstool homes. But there is another way to look at this. My view is that this is one way of showing how much she cares about other elven entities. Amarantha wants to know what makes them tick, in case some day she might be called upon to help them to alleviate their laughter-free existences and to further them on their journeys to Elf-Nirvanah !!
Such are the words of the elven Pendragon Willow.

.............................................................................................

Goodnight for now ,all my dear friends,as I enjoy the sleep of the just, and the aroma of the cranberry and rosehip pastillles. May you have avoided the plagues and boils of working life this day,and rise tomorrow to feast on renewed glories. From the slightly queazy Amarantha, the Rainbow Faery.

Our weekend in Granitonda was quite magnificent,if also a little whirlwind. We drove up on Saturday some 78 elven miles, and arrived at the first stroke of noon. We arrived just in time to have the first spoils from the roasting,and be first in line to present our gifts to the birthday sprite. Lucantus looked so grown up,and smiled so politely to every one of his guests,while grabbing gleefully at our beautiful wrapping paper. He was well pleased,with his sky glasses,astronomy book and explorer's outfit. He waded through dozens of wonderful items from family and friends, each geared to different aspects of his personality and interests.
We had a grand feast and enjoyed the company of all,catching up with each other's ploys and successes over the past few months. The sprites never ceased to fascinate us all with their merry laughter,and comical quips. Tiny Marcellino grinned when I gave him his bubble machine. He blew and he blew,and millions of miniscule bubbles with a rainbow of colours,streamed out on everyone sitting in the garden. Everyone, including the more mature elven folk had to try it out. I wished on reflection that I had brought more bubble contraptions with me,to allow us all to explore our inner child for longer .

Pendragon and I had booked a room at the local hostelry,The Water Wheel, and briefly returned there to change clothes before returning to our friends for an evening repast in a local inn.We had a happy evening,although I did find the food very strange and the service folk quite slow. Some of us were awaiting the dessert,when others were just beginning their starter.
Twenty past the eleventh hour found Pendragon and I walking back to our overnight dwelling,taking in the moonlight glow,and watching rabbits emerging from their warrens to make a midnight forage. The rain began five minutes into our walk,and sad to say, we arrived back at the Water Wheel with soaking feet and damp vestments.
Strangely there were no electric motor carriages parked outside,when we strolled up to the door. At this time of year we would have expected this hostelry to be quite full. We thought little more about it as we were shattered from our travelling and carousing, and soon our curly elven heads were laid upon a pair of pure white pillows.We slept well.
On Sunday morning we rose at eight,dressed quickly,and found the breakfast room. It was laid out perfectly for a stream of visitors,but it seemed we were on our own. Nothing else had been used. We chose a table near the breakfast foods, and enjoyed a serene sunday repast of fruit,cereals ,and oatmeal breads. We felt somewhat odd having the whole place to ourselves. And then the thought struck us that if we were the only two for breakfast,we were the only two in the whole hotel. Imagine the joy of a whole hotel to yourself. A dainty dark-eyed elven maiden served our smokey fish and eggs,and she told us the Water Wheel was being renovated. It was under new management,and travellers might be few till it was completed. What fun !
We should always insist on having a choice of two hundred rooms!
We travelled back to Dingley Dell after saying our goodbyes to family and friends. Much hugging,much kissing,and many "we'll see you soons".
Rain was falling heavily on our return,but our toadstool home was safe and sound.
So back to work today,with a good all round show at Dingley Dell Community Radio Network. No special visitor today ,so I devoted my attentions to good presentation ,and great music.My artist of the week was Edanna Roodbin,a starring songstress in the old Millennium. I had researched her career,and collected samples of her recordings to intersperse with my wild words and fierce imaginings.Edanna had a smooth soprano voice and was very popular with our elven grandparents.
Her lilting tones wafted round the studio,reaching the heights and plumbing the depths of vocal pulchritude. My favourite tune is definitely "The Last Briar of Winter, and if I had not had lots of Dingley Dell ears listening, I would have played it twice.
Back home I found two important messages on my electronic box. One was from Remindur Toastyspur,assistant director of The Elven Theatricals in Metropolis.I am to begin rehearsals with them this coming Sunday,and am short of details as to what exactly I shall be doing.But he sounded eager to see me,and I am sure once he has seen the full extent of my elven dramatic abilities ,a starring role will surely be mine.
The production does sound interesting,as it will involve actors from many different corners of the Metropolitan arts.
The other was from my Physio,altering my appointment from Friday to tomorrow at eleven. So more travelling on the morrow,with some hunting for used parchments in the afternoon, and a cosy lunch at the Buttercup Bistro . This promises to be a busy week. Pendragon and I are looking to organise our betrothal transport,flowers and picture -taker. On Thursday we go to discuss our requirements for our bonding rings with a specialist worker in white metals. Organising all these things seems to bring my betrothal to Pendragon even closer .He is working tonight in the Metropolis, and won't be home till tomorrow. I miss him.

Much hoping that you, my dear friends, are not alone tonight,and have ample supplies of family and friends on which to test your evening culinary successes.Much feasting,and much hugging,from Amarantha, stage star -to- be,the Rainbow Faery.

I set off early this morning,hoping to walk all the way to the Daily Scandal in the sunshine,giving me time to gather my thoughts and my emotions before facing any decisions which Portamus Cumberpatch wanted to throw at me. I had dressed in my finest summer vestments, a pale blue floaty skirt, a matching pale blue top with tiny straps and a long fine pale blue overcape,in case the breeze from the water should cause me a chill. Dingley Dell High Street looked glorious as I strolled along.The sun was beaming on everything in the first moments of the working day. Mercantiles were opening,workers were on their way to take up their trade or their skill,and all seemed to hurry with renewed enthusiasm for the frey.
I stopped to take in a view of the Big Water from the promenade. There is a wooden bench there,where those who wish to muse upon the waves,take stock of their lives or just absorb the landscape for miles ahead, can rest their weary elven bones to do so.
The Daily Scandal is only five minutes from there ,in a huge stone building,with imperious facade,and a myriad of stairways inside. When you first go there,you feel like a rabbit in a maze,but after several visits you know to avoid most of the warren and head for the second floor.
The wide marbled glass door says in bold black letters : The Daily Scandal:ed.Portamus Cumberpatch.
and in red highlighted print :WE APPLAUD THE POWER OF THE PEN .
I always want to add there ; - As long as it is only one hundred words.

I took a deep breath,and turned the handle. Everyone inside the wood and leather office looked up as I timidly stepped inside. Some of the better known faces to me ,received a coy smile from me as I moved towards the reception desk. I knew who would be there,because she is always there, throwing fear and trepidation into any who are brave enough to call.
Faladinka,Cumberpatch's secretary was reading through a pile of papers when I reached the desk. She looked up, rather scathingly I thought, and raised her eyebrows towards me in some kind of invitation to speak. My stomach was turning and my heart was beating faster,but I was determined not to let her destroy my confidence.
In a slightly higher voice than I normally use, I squeaked out " I have an appointment with Mr. Cumberpatch - at nine".
She stared back , her eyes delivering condescending mode.
"I know," she drawled. "You will have to wait. You are not the only one he needs to see. Sit there".
I felt like a recalcitrant sprite as my eye followed her pointy finger to a small sofa near Cumberpatch's door. "There's no tea. I haven't got time."
I felt everyone was looking at me as I took my place beside two other elven appointees,already waiting.
Faladinka was such a witch,with her dark red mouth threatening to engulf anyone who came too close to it. Her eyes were black as coal,with falsely formed black eyebrow furniture. Her face always carried a scowl,and an air of discontent. She was impossible to befriend as she terminated any sociable overture immediately with a vocal slap of aggression.
The two other waiting folk looked sombre,and uneasy under her constant look of censure. I dared not interact with them ,fearing the wrath of Faladinka coming down on all of us. So we each sat in silence ,praying that Portamus's door would open soon,and we would be invited in.

One half hour passed, and still no Cumberpatch. It was difficult not to shuffle. Faladinka's loud tut-tutting whenever one of us coughed or jiggled,was almost an incentive to annoy.
But the door did open. Portamus Cumberpatch's white curly head popped round the door, and alighted on ME.
He smiled,a wide toothless smile,and signalled with his arm for me to join him.
As I picked up my gossamer coat,I spied Faladinka's disapproval at my being taken in first.
But she didn't venture further,so I gallously smiled my very best smile in reply to her disgust.

Portamus Cumberpatch settled back in his dark oak editor's chair,and smiled at me benevolently. It was almost as unnerving as Faladinka's scorn,so I just smiled sweetly back and hoped he would put me out of my misery quickly.
"Amarantha" - he began - You have done very well with your column. Ask Amarantha has been very popular. Your readership has grown every week. Now that it has settled in,I am going to give it to one of the junior elf reporters and see what she makes of it."

My heart sank. I felt that I must try to be professional and accept his clearly erroneous judgment.
"Of course,Portamus,-"I began,but there was no point. He was on a roll and there was no room or time for any desperate manoeuvering from me.

"So " - he went on again - " What am I going to do with you, Amarantha ?"
He leaned forward in rather too conspiratorial a tone,and I inwardly hoped his next suggestion was going to be both wholesome and journalistic.

He rambled on. "You see ,you move in high places, Amarantha . I believe you have the ear of Queen Brighid the Bright. She speaks very highly of you. And your successful interview with Dudley Forepiece a few weeks ago,well, that suggests to me that maybe there is a place for you here,as our newest gossip/entertainment columnist".
I was stunned. Me ,a future in gossip ? From where had Portamus gleaned that unlikely idea ?
But it was already growing on me. "Amarantha's Place" - that could be the title,or maybe "Around Town with Amarantha" - or possibly, "Amarantha's Dingley Dell".
Portamus was watching me now to gauge my reaction.It could only be positive. I knew I had to do it.
I had to play it cool though. There were details to be worked out..................

I am home now and have just given my good news to Pendragon. He smiled one of his inscrutable smiles when I told him.

"Well done, my honey", he said, and do tell me .Exactly how many words ?"

A jolly weekend to you all ,my friends, and may there be adventures galore in the midsummer sun. Remember to laugh, to be kind to those you meet and book your copy of the Daily Scandal in good time.
From Amarantha, teller of tales and keeper of the fifth toadstool from the left. She is the Rainbow Faery.

At exactly fifteen good minutes past five of the clock last evening,Piccallilli Peasegood tapped on our toadstool door. When I opened our shiny white door,there she stood,smile akimbo,with a bunch of pale pink freesias in hand. I welcomed her in,and placed the kettle on the stove to boil.The whole world lights up when Piccallilli is around. We grabbed our cups of steaming hot vanilla pod tea and buttered our currant tea cakes,and took everything into the sun room. Dribbles of rain were falling on the windows,but she could still get a good view of the back garden. She whooped and called with delight as she noticed everything new. She marvelled at the flowers,and the bright terracotta pots. She waved to Mandolini and the Backyard boys,as they laboured in the wetness. She seemed happy even at the end of a long working day. Piccallilli has a new job in a school she loves,and her former troubles in her previous appointment now seem behind her. She asked me about the show at Dingley Dell which I had attended in the morning,and we then set to talking about the present state of Dingley Dell under its new leadership. Piccallilli and I had worked together there over about seven years, and she very much shared my fears about the new management there. I left in October past,and things appear to have deteriorated further since then. The Academy has no visible funds despite having received new funding in April. The rate at which finance disappears suggests spending on unnecessary items,while the ordering of necessary books and pencils is not addressed. With a new session still to come,how will the tools of education be found ?

Bozzo the Clown blunders on,moaning to all who will listen that he does not know why these disasters keep happening.His hapless Management Team blunder on with him. Serendipity Weasel is functioning no better,her disciplinary tactics being virtually non existent,while one and all concur that she is ineffective with a capital EF. In every quarter. Standards in her area of the Academy are at an all time low,with new and struggling members of Staff failing to receive any appropriate advice,or meaningful discussion. The new Depute in my old department,of whom the Staff hoped so much, is proving to be tainted with the same lazy qualities of his erstwhile mentor,Bozzo. So now they have to suffer a Bozzo,backed up by The Blimp, while Serendipity floats along on a semi-conscious wing and an elven prayer.
It was very sad to listen to the anxieties of my former colleagues when I visited this week. Some are tense and tired,others are disillusioned, some at the end of their educational tether, some just waiting for the retirement bell to release them from this nightmare. All are worried about where this disintegrating situation will lead. How do they define what is wrong ?

"He just can't manage",they say.
"He just cannot organise" they say,as though this were some physical ailment for which he requires medication.
"He has no idea what he is doing" they add. And they soldier on.
But from my outsider perspective now,I can dispassionatley say, they really should not have to put up with this. He is collecting copious amounts of geld for leading the educational ship there,and he is a completely unmitigated disaster. Something does need to be done.
Piccallilli and I rumanated over all the unrest before moving on to more congenial topics - her daughter's betrothal,my betrothal in the Faery Ring, the recent machinations of Queen Brighid the Bright, Piccallilli's Summer Solstice holiday plans, my up and coming weekend in Granitonda,and life and times with the Daily Scandal. We laughed aloud at my dealings with Chief Editor,Portamus Cumberpatch,and his dotty secretary, the Mighty Faladinka.
I am due to visit Portamus tomorrow to discuss the future of my writing career with the Daily Scandal. My Agony Elf column was only awarded a few experimental weeks,so no doubt he will wish to tell me whether he wants it to continue,whether he has other plans for me,or whether he wants to give me the elven equivalent of the "Daily Scandal Bum's Rush". I will just have to take a philosophical view until I know my journalistic fate.
Pendragon appeared home at the hour of seven,to find Piccallilli and I still laughing,and the twilight coming down. She would not stay for tea despite our coaxing, but left with a hug,another large smile and a promise to join me for coffee at the Jolly Woodman in early July.
Pendragon and I waved her off in her four wheeled motor carriage , noting that she was waving with both hands when she really should have had both hands on the wheel. How does she do that ?I must ask her next time I see her.

A great good evening to you all my friends,and may the loud rushing wind which currently whistles round your toadstool ,die down to the whisper of a balmy breeze.
Much love from all at number five Lobelia Drive, the fifth toadstool from the left, and in particular Amarantha,the Rainbow Faery.

Over the last two days I have had two invitations from my former place of work -Dingley Dell Academy.The first was to join the older sprites at their leaving celebration. The second was to join the whole school for their school end of term show this morning. Both were enjoyable and energising,and full of reminders of everything I loved about my work at Dingley Dell. On Monday night I found myself dancing alongside sprites I have known since they had three elven years. They are on the brink of growing up now,and show all the good manners and confidence which we always want our young folk to have. They were a pleasure to be with,asked me all sorts of questions about my new life,and generally took care of me throughout the evening. I signed their autograph parchments and wished them all the best for their future.
Today I watched their show,and marvelled at their enthusiasm for entertaining. Young singers,dancers,violinists and recorder players went through their paces,in perfect time and tune. It was good to be remembered by them all. I was treated to much waving and clapping,and smiling and bits of news being flung at me as I made my way to my seat. After the show,I visited every class to wish them well,and listen to all their little stories.
The truth is, it was also nice to walk away when I wanted to at noon.I spent 27 wonderful years there,but my thirst for dealing with the daily anxieties and vagaries of staff and parents,has waned completely. It is nice to return to celebrate all the achievements, but I don't want to be there any more as a career.
I've served my time,paid my penance,fulfilled my duty,and freedom is mine now for the taking.
But their childish smiles will always touch my heart,and I do get a warm glow knowing that the small ones of Dingley Dell Academy will always hold me dear, and I them. I have said that I would be willing to return to do some fantastic drama work with them in the New Year,some all- singing ,all- dancing affair which will make our cheeks glow and our hearts race. This joy is still mine to give.

Pendragon has organised some art tuition for me in July. I am really looking forward to this as it involves painting in the open,and sometimes in the "mean streets" of the Metropolis. I learned so much last year,and I am hoping to improve once again.

It's raining again outside. I am awaiting the arrival of my good friend ,Piccallilli Peasegood.She is coming straight from work,so I will have something hot for her to eat and drink. Toasted currant cakes and vanilla pod tea are her favourites. We will sit in the sun room(there is no sun today,whatsoever.)and talk of times new and old. She also has wadges of gossip to impart,so the walls of our little toadstool will be ringing with the shock factor of it all.

Time to tidy up and set out the tea things, my dear friends. A bracing cup of something for you all at this twilight time, and may you also enjoy the tales of the day with someone close.

Till the morrow,from Amarantha Willow of Dingley Dell,the Rainbow Faery.

No sooner had I said my electronic box was working,than it decided it wasn't too happy and I had to call "the electronic goblin " back in again. I have to say I am not too comfortable in the presence of electronic goblins ",due to my being reasonably electronic box illiterate, and it takes these maestros precisely one or two technical questions to determine this. Something in their eyes tells me they have sussed this, and I then continue dejected for the rest or our interview together.
However needs must,and I made the call on the woodland phone. A rather delicious transatlantic voice replied,and offered to pay me a call,to help identify this seemingly on-going problem. I love the voices of Transatlantia,as my dear Pendragon hails from those shores. It is a soft entrancing voice,luring in the listener closer ,it is a delight to listen to.
Anyway,yesterday, as Wally my industrious cuckoo sauntered out at the chime of one,I saw a rather tall figure,somewhat eccentrically dressed for these climes ,stroll up the front garden path and rap twice on our little toadstool door.
He smiled instantly, as I opened the door, and bade him enter. I showed him the way to the Blue Room and my offending electronic box. The offending article was just lying there on the desk,looking meek and mild,as though butter would not melt in its tiny electronic mouth. But the beast of ineptitude was definitely lurking within,and my erstwhile "electronic goblin" was not to be fooled.
He sat down in my tiny desk chair,his long goblin legs stretching out as far as the window,and began his work. From here I could observe him more closely, and the detail of him was not unpleasing. He had long shoulder length locks, as soft and grey as his eyes, and he wore a pale grey doublet,blouson and dark grey hose. Nothing so unusual there, but there was something about him which just seemed to spell out DIFFERENT.
He was a strange looking character, carrying the allure of an era long past, but with the softest grey eyes I have ever seen. Soft yet sad. I had a feeling that his life had somehow not been easy in the past. Those eyes hid previous troubles and unsolved angst.And yet when he smiled,the Blue Room seemed to light up in the glow of those peepers. He worked and talked as he worked,explaining to me what he was doing and why he was doing it. I only understood bits and pieces,but I understood enough to sound reasonably aware when I replied. But I felt I could be honest with those soft grey eyes,as he did not make me feel like an incompetent nincompoop when I had to admit that I did not understand a term which he used.
He completed his repair,and was just shutting down his electronic windows,when he came to some pictures on his memory stick. He said these were pictures of his true home in Transatlantia -in a place callled
Wen Moxxen - pictures of forests,wide and dark,miles of open desert land and small farm lands .
I asked him how he had come to Dingley Dell. He said he had been at sea,searching for the dark oil,for many years. That job came to an end and he had decided to work for himself with the skills he had.
He liked Dingley Dell, but his home would always be in those forests,wide and dark,in the open desert lands with his five brothers and their families. Those soft,grey eyes seemed to drift away at that point,as though memories were stirred,and sadnesses returned. I did not want to ask any more..
Those dark places were his to occupy and deal with.He did not need me to intrude. He suddenly smiled again and I thanked him for his great work. My electronic box was back up and running,not daring to play any more nasty tricks or stop working just when I need it most. It had submitted to the mastery of the Tall Grey Stranger, my electronic goblin, from lands far away.
I said goodbye,and he strolled back down the front path,leaving me feeling that I had met someone quite unusual this day, and there are not too many of them to the pound in Dingley Dell .

Much good fortune to you all, my dearest of dear friends, and may warmer climes than Dingley Dell be yours. Watch out for tall grey strangers, and remember to make all such travellers feel at home in our land. From Amarantha Willow( and her errant electronic box), The Rainbow Faery.

My electronic box decided not to work on Thursday morning,so I have had to have it in diagnostic care for the last 24 hours. The problem is fixed ,thank goodness, as I missed being able to communicate with all my dear friends. I have kept very busy though, in the meantime. The toadstool is shining from top to bottom,as I spent all of Thursday morning spinning round its interiors with dusters,polish,soap and water,and maximum elbow grease. In the afternoon, I went to the Jolly Woodman to amass some more gardening supplies. I had a most enjoyable afternoon,fishing through the dwarf shrubs,the border plants and the hardy perennials. I bought some new brightly coloured pots for my house plants too,and fresh soil and feed. I came home with two patio roses, - one for the front yard,and one for the back - in slightly differing shades of peach. I have been carefully watering and feeding them for the last two days,before transferring them into larger,prettier pots. The garden is awash with flowers generally at the moment.Everything has decided to put on its finest weeds,and dress gaily for the summer days. Watering is my most difficult chore to be honest,as much preparation was already done in the garden,before we planted the summer beds. Pendragon and I share the garden jobs,with him seeming to get the muckiest, sad to say. I swan around telling everything how wonderful it is looking, while he mans secateurs,shears , garden scythe and spade.
Downstairs at the moment,Pendragon is preparing our Saturday repast. He wants me to have a little time off from cooking chores at weekends.I am not sure if this is a mark of kindness,or just a reprieve for his stomach from my simple helpings. I am a good plain cook,with fair knowledge of healthy elven recipes, but Pendragon's father worked in some of the best kitchens of Transatlantia, and passed down to him many tricks of the seasoning trade.
At the end of next week,Pendragon and I are going to visit some of my elven relatives in Granitonda.My niece's little boy, Lucantus, will be celebrating his birthing day. He now has seven elven years, and presents as quite the well-mannered young sprite. He wants to become an astronomer,and spends much of his leisure time,pouring over books about the stars. We have bought him some special binocular glasses with which to stare at the heavens in his thirst for astral knowledge. His elven parents are holding a barbecued lunch party for him,and all the family who can come. It will be a great opportunity to see members of our clan whom we have not seen for a while. Lucantus has a little brother sprite who had two elven years when we saw him last. His name is Marcollino ,and we are told he has grown a lot taller. We are going to stay overnight in a watermill in Granitonda,and will be taking lots of photographs of our stay.
My used parchment selling business has really taken off,and I am dealing with purchases every day at the moment.The Blue Room is so full of merchandise that I think I am going to organise them rather better this weekend. I need more shelving,and am going to look into that this coming week.
On Monday next week I have been invited to attend a special evening back at my former place of work,Dingley Dell Academy. The eldest sprites there are leaving to go on to their next stage of education,so a celebration is in order. I am their special guest,and it will be really fun to see them all again, and join in the fun. Lots of dancing,lots of eating,and maybe a bit of singing,will be the order of the evening. Elven sprites learn from a very early age how to celebrate in fine style,and will all attend in their finest, most fashionable garments. I hope to also see some of my former colleagues who will be in attendance at this occasion.
The rain has decided to fall..I can hear it tap,tapping on the window. The dozens of birds we have had visiting all day ,have fled for shelter to treetops or hedges elsewhere. We were watching them at lunchtime today, scrambling for their share of the goodies hung up for them .Jumping ,leaping around ,pecking each other, crash-banging into the coconut shells from above to knock another bird off.Many of the visitors today have been young birds,looking for fodder to fatten themselves up,and
turn their downy plumage into sleek feathers. From starlings to thrushes,dunnocks to finches, coal tits and robins,we have seen them all this week at some point. They seem to be getting used to my presence pottering in the front garden. At first they would fly off if I appeared. Now they keep feeding if I am around, as long as I am at a safe distance from them. Sometimes they just sit on top of the garden fence till I have gone,and then return to the feeders.
The last few days in Lobelia Drive have been relatively quiet,neighbour wise. The Forlorn Faery has been out a lot,walking her new beast,Daisy.She very kindly offered me a bag of green nuts for my birds this morning,which she had brought back from her holiday away. Mimsey and Jeraboa Dagwort have been on vacation in the Sunny Isles, and the Primpoles have been away visiting one of their sons.Nobby Shilpit and his brood have been seen from time to time, but only a glimpse of one or other of them,disappearing into their toadstool.
Son Oggie the Hood is still keeping a low profile,maybe he is a changed sprite. Any distinctive change of personality would have to be more than skin deep though to alter the neighbourhood perception of young Oggie. Let us hope this peace will last for a while. Although judging by the intrigues of the past few months,nothing ever stays quiet in Lobelia Drive for long.

Peace and Tranquillity to all of you, my fine feathered friends, this mid month weekend. May you all be engaged in health giving pursuits, surrounded by those you love. From Amarantha Willow, Dingley Dell's own Bird of Paradise, the Rainbow Faery.

Walking around in the centre of Brigantia yesterday,it was interesting to note all the new building which is happening. Round every corner ,goblin workmen would appear,brandishing spades,or hammers,or other assorted items,in their rickety hands .Their pale green faces were marked with another layer of cement dust,and grime. Bottles of ale to slake their thirst were tucked into their safety vestments.It was therefore not the quietest place to be,but it was busy. Some areas have already been finished,and already in use. One new seating area was full of city folk eating their lunch or just sitting around talking with colleagues or friends. The day was somewhat gloomy,but warm,so no one was dissuaded from this pursuit by the weather.
I was in Brigantia,mainly to visit my Faery Physio,but thought I would use the waiting time to scour the library and used possession shops, for further stocks of used parchments to sell on.There were plenty on offer,but I felt I needed to be circumspect before making a purchase .It is so important to weigh up all aspects before laying geld on the counter. Age,condition, sellability, topic, all need to be taken into consideration. And how much it will cost to put them in the mail slot to a buyer. I seem to show promise in making wise decisions but it is still early days.
I arrived a little early for my Physio appointment, but did not have to wait long. He seemed pleased to see me,and we settled down to discuss how my sore hand was progressing. Tendonitis takes ages to go away,so although there was progress.I still have some weeks of exercise and treatment to go.

This morning I rose early with Pendragon ,as two little gnomes were due to undertake some house repairs, and no doubt would appear sooner than expected. Breakfast and bathing was completed,and tidying begun when the toadstool door knocker was rapped and the Power Specialists were here.Their appearance ,I have to say,did not inspire enthusiasm or credibility. I do like my workmen to take their career choice seriously,with possibly a uniform,matching cap,and an air of workmanship about them. These two had been lucky- dipped out of the Dingley Dell postal list, and first glance told me ,maybe we should have dipped again. They were both overly tubby specimens (definitely,too many Dingley Dell pies),and the moment they entered the toadstool,I just knew that their every movement would be a liability to our designer furnishings. They were to fix a special switch to our new glowworm fitting,and repair our control on the heating mechanism. Neither job very difficult,but in the wrong hands.......................

They did eventually set to work,after wandering about for twenty minutes,and I thankfully got the impression they did know what they were doing. But Bobbus and Beamus,as I have decided to call them,were finding the navigation of their girth ,around our splendid but small toadstool, rather a challenge. I found myself following them around,just trying to steady items in their wake. Two books fell out of the bookshelf as Bobbus passed, and my collectible white jugs were teetering back and forth ,as Beamus
used their resting place to sit on. I couldn't wait for them to finish.They talked all the time, ( and kept calling me missus. )so it was difficult to escape them,but I was so anxious about our decorative objects, that I could not have left the room anyway. Finding myself rooted to our leather settee as a ventage point from which to avert any destruction,they seemed to have drawn from this that I was then available to listen to all their troubles. Divorces, medical ailments, financial stress, their many relationships,other folk's relationships, holiday disasters, work projects past and present - they hardly drew breath between topics,and I was completely wrecked physically and emotionally by the time they turned their final screw in the heating control.
My smile was very wan indeed. I had barely the strength to hand over their fee (desperation kept me going). Bobbus wrote me out a receipt,while Beamus tossed their working tools carelessly into an old leather bag. His chances of finding anything at his next job,within half of one hour, would be less than remote. Not my worry,for by now I was clutching the geld in my left hand,waving it in front of Beamus as I led him casually to the front door. Only when both of his feet were on the doorstep did I shove the notes into his puffy hand,say a swift cheery-bye, and close the door. Relief swept over me just knowing they were gone. If we develop any other repair jobs,and Pendragon suggests these two rapscallions,I shall tell him to throw the phone list into the air,open it where it lands,and choose the first name which is not Bobbus,and does not rhyme with Beamus.
I needed some restoration after this,so I headed to the Jolly Woodman tearooms,for a baked tomato with assorted salads. In the gardening shop next door,I found two patio rose bushes,a yellow and a pink. I also bought some bird treats, and some spicy candles.
I brought them home,but before I could begin my planting, the heavens opened with a very sharp shower. The garden will be pleased, even if we have to put our plans aside for another day.

Much happy doing- it- yourself, my dear friends, and may the joys of the gnomic workman be kept forever at a distance. From Amarantha,currently in her wellies,the delightful Rainbow Faery.

Dingley Dell is a very loving place. As you walk about the village you often observe couples either holding hands or seated on benches,lip to elven lip. There must be something in the salty air which induces romantic thoughts .
I stayed around the toadstool in the morning as the wind outside was so blustery. The air was warm,but the wind,she did blow, fast and loose. It was a day for completing toadstool chores,and putting the finishing touches to some writing for the Daily Scandal.I buzzed about,collecting various items of Pendragon's vestments from various rooms in the toadstool,and set them out to scrub and rinse. I swept the floors,and dusted our decorative objects, cleaned the cooking room,and scrubbed out the lavatarium. Chores done,I sat in our sun room,watching the wind catch the wisteria branches,and thought about my afternoon show.Last Monday's interview had been such a success,with Dudley Forepiece singing my praises as he left the building.Today's guest might not be so distinguished,but it was up to me to get the best from her. Yes, an elven lady this time, a carer of sprites and pixies, who was to give me the inside view of her daily work. Her role in a Developing Room for elven families should find lots of interest from Dingley Dell's mothering community. I jotted down some opening questions,and some notes about her work,and carefully packed these with my silver disks in my specially designed Radio Box. Lunch time came and went in a haze of juniper berry soup with chive croutons,and soon it was time to make my way to the studio. It was during this walk,through the centre off Dingley Dell,that I noticed how many spooning couples there were. I decided that I would mention this in my show,and invite any dedicated "spooners" to phone in for a chat.
I opened the door of Dingley Dell Radio network and headed for the Reception desk to sign in and collect my playlist. Cushie Gilliemangel was manning the desk. She looked at me with a smile larger than the Big Water Tunnel.
"Hi, Amarantha", she called, "well,someone has an admirer".And with that she pulled out from under the desk, a huge basket of summer flowers and assorted greenery.
"Flowers ?" I stammered. "Who ? Me ? Why ? What .......? I fumbled for the words.
"It's no use wondering", Cushie said."The card just says Amarantha, and there's no message,just enough plant life to dress your toadstool several times over".
I was stuck for words. Flowers, and no message. Now there was mystery indeed. Cushie looked after the basket while I did my Monday "Razmattaz", Half way through my guest arrived. Cushie Gilliemangel ushered the tiny elven body in. So this was Marrigollda Fleabane,carer of sprites extraordinaire and winner of the Queen Brighid the Bright Award for Services to Tiddlers.
She was a strange looking creature,agonisingly thin,with her boney frame clad in her Carer's navy uniform . I doubted whether her gaunt face and pinched lips had ever seen a smile,let alone a thick thistle pasty.
She sat down in the guest seat,her eyes maintaining their continuous downward gazing at the floor. I uttered a friendly hello,to no obvious reply,and realised in the same moment that this interview was going to be no easy stroll down Marrigollda's memory lane. She looked decidedly ill at ease, but I chatted on,hoping to relax her with my merry quips and stunning description of her good works. She seemed to get smaller in the chair at the very mention of her own name.
I played an Alicantor Bing favourite, and offered her the page of interview questions for her to follow. She just kept looking hard at them,and not at me,so I decided all I could do was begin.

"Miss Fleabane", I began,tentatively, "you have worked at the Dingley Dell Development Room,for 25 years now. Tell us more about your work. "
I stared across the desk at her,willing her to expound a treatise on her life and times.
"MM,"was all I caught,emerging from her pinched bow. Nothing else. The silence hung in the air.
"I see you have won a special award ", I coaxed.
Some kind of high pitched squeak followed,with a whispered "yes" closeted within.This was purgatory for both of us.
"Are there any favourite moments from your long career ?" A strangled cough leaped across the desk at me.
Have you any tips to give to our parents,out there, to help their wee sprites ?
She was still staring at the polished floor boards,humming and hawing in some kind of muffled language.
I tried my final pitch.
"Have you any hobbies,Marrigollda ?"
As though suddenly galvanised by some external motivator,she looked up ,and said,in the clearest of bell tones," Knitting. I like knitting."
AT last. I had connected with some safe topic in the poor creature's psyche. We went on to discuss knitting for a few moments more,( at least I did)but the interview was effectively over .I smiled once again in her direction,hoping to intimate that her suffering was almost over,thanked her for being my guest and pushed the fader up on another merry tune. Alone with her,conversation was barely possible, as she just looked so defeated and apologetic. I thanked her again,assured her the interview had been alright,and showed her the door.
I am ashamed to say I was furious,and a little upset. Who had asked this poor creature to do an interview ? What were my audience thinking of such an inept piece of work ? All the joy of last week's triumph faded into nothingness as I contemplated the whole miserable experience with Marrigollda Fleabane. Was it Jiminy Jinks having a laugh,or Queen Brighid the Bright wishing to cut me down to size ?
And then I stopped,and thought - if it was miserable for me, how must Marrigollda have felt ? Out of her depth and out of her comfort zone. We had both been rained on from a great height.
She was still at Reception when I finished my show.She was gathering her coat and handbag,when I walked forward and pressed the basket of flowers into her scrawny hands.She stared at me in complete surprise,and a small smile almost began to blossom.
"Thank you again,I said, for taking time out to give us an interview. We are very grateful. "
I could swear she almost skipped through the door. When I turned round,Cushie Gilliemangel was smiling an even larger smile than before.
"What's that for ?"I said.
"You will always get flowers, Amarantha",said Cushie. Because they'll always love you."
I just laughed,but I did feel on this occasion that I had done the right thing.

Much love to you all,my friends,on this windy June night. Stay tucked up in your gossamer blankets and fleecy slipperettes. Till tomorrow's fine weather,from Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

We have just arrived back on the woodland tram from the Metropolis. The weather outside has been beautiful,but we had to return early as Pendragon has an early start tomorrow. But we had the whole of Saturday and this morning to enjoy some of the treats of the city.
Yesterday Pendragon served me breakfast in bed - a wild berry porridge,with assorted other fruits ,and some mulberry toast. He came back to bed after this,and we enjoyed another hour of lying close,and talking, and planning our lives away.
We dressed for the warm weather ,myself in a loose turquoise shift and he in a dark green light doublet and hose. The city looked fine and ready to welcome us as we stepped out into the sunshine. We headed off to the city centre as lots of the supermercantiles were already open. There are lots of visitors in Metropolis at the moment ,very obvious by their stopping and staring at the city architecture,and their using their picture boxes to record their holiday images. They have come from all corners of the elven globe to view the many wonderful sights of Metropolis and enjoy the hospitality of Metropolis folk . City elven folk can be just as nice as the woodlanders,if they feel you need help or are lost in the big Metro.
We walked down to the city centre,grateful for the small breeze,and keeping our eyes open for somewhere nice to have an acorn latte.At this time of year in our Metropolis,everyone sits outside to enjoy maximum sunshine as they dine. We window shopped for an hour,looking at quality summerwear for Pendragon and I. As I used to be working at this time of year,I never really built up a good summer wardrobe. I always had to maintain my credibility as a manager ,by wearing a piece of tailored suiting,whatever the weather. Now that I can wear what I like,I want to find items which project my feminine elven personality,preferably soft floaty skirts,and off the shoulder bodices. We found a couple of items which I really liked - a black top with a floaty long ,black and white skirt, and a navy cape,with matching palazzo pants,and a brightly coloured button-up top. They all look so cool and summery. So my new wardrobe begins. Pendragon hunted through all the elven menswear we could find ,and eventually settled on a pale grey and blue,long sleeved doublet,in a linen material,with two pairs of matching hose which he could interchange. Holding our purchase bags tight in our excited little hands,we set off to cool down in a nearby cafe bistro, The Tearful Turtle.
Inside the cafe seemed to have been recently refurbished,with silver metal chairs and tables,and the walls painted in shiny black and silver.The waiting girl was young,but efficient and before either of us could say "every elven elder except Eddie eats electric eels", she had returned with two hot and steaming pale acorn lattes.We like hot drinks in cool weather ,and would rarely order a cold refreshment. Cold chills my elven molars,and does not cool me down. In contrast, the warm latte does kill the thirst, and my elven gums find it much kinder. Quite hungry after our shopping ,we also ordered two pieces of red onion tart with a chive and butternut salad. Certainly healthy cosmopolitan fare,it really fired us up to complete our shopping spree. As always I felt the need to explore a few used parchment shops. A successful hunt as I found two worthwhile scripts which I felt could be sold on with an ample profit. Pendragon said he would prefer if I bought shoes, as I should be finding some new ones for myself. I begged to be allowed to leave this for another day, as my tiny elven feet were swelling as I tramped around in the heat. The ground underfoot was "Hot enough to fry a pigeon's egg on" as my elven mother used to say. Too hot to go barefoot in the elven way.
We returned to Pendragon's basement toadstool,dropped off our parcels, and headed back out again to find a place in the park opposite to rest our legs and soak up the rays. It was glorious . Many elven couples were doing the same,and some families were playing elven games to get some summer exercise. We lay till five of the cuckoo clock,before gathering up our blanket and heading home for tea.
I had a long soak in Pendragon's kidney shaped bath. He came in with some spice scented oils,poured a half bottle in,and left me to relax in the warm aroma. We drssed in some of our new vestments and hurried out to have an evening meal in our local eaterie, "The Red Pepper House".We sat outside there,and enjoyed watching the evening unfold.Consumed with an interest in just each other, we hardly noticed how busy the restaurant was, or who was sitting at each table.
Truffle pancakes, a mint and green bean ristto, two large mulberry mousses,and oodles of gooseberry wine, passed our lips. We left at eleven, huge smiles for everyone there ,sweet kisses for each other, and walked the 500 yards to reach home.
We slept soundly,falling into each other's arms as Pendragon's cuckoo sauntered out at midnight plus ten, and not reawakening until he reappeared again,, at eleven plus twenty the following morning.
Today,Sunday,dawned and we ate a hearty yoghurt breakfast,before keeping an appointment with the Faery Seamstress who will be making my gown. She wanted to take some new measurements, and show me some sample materials for the bodice and sleeves of my dress.
Soooooooo exciting !.
Pendragon waited outside her studio as he thinks it a little superstitious for an elven man to see the betrothal gown before the ceremony.He was pleased to see me so excited when I emerged in the noon sunshine.
Back home now,we have had a lazy afternoon. Pendragon has read and re-read the Sunday Scandal,and drunk two cups of chocolate latte. I have watered both the front and back gardens, sent some messages to friends and family on my electronic mail box, and consumed two cups of menthol tea.
Pendragon is cooking tonight,so my dinner will be prepared with love as well as two bowls of spinach.
There are no signs of any of our immediate neighbours who all seem to have disappeared for the day. Over at number ten,however. Jeraboa has been busy.For the last three hours he has been attempting to mend the fence. The fence with the gap,destroyed by his own brand of barbecueing ,a few weeks ago . The gap is considerably bigger now than it was three weeks ago,due to Mimsey using it as her own private thoroughfare into Dagwort Holdings. Mimsey is not small,not nearly as small as the hole once was,and repeatedly pushing her fleshy love handles into the gap has rendered it the size of a small barrage balloon. With good intentions,Jeraboa emerged from his shed with a large pile of slats,no doubt to methodically and precisely reshape the border of his land.
Sad to say,he has ignored all form that the fence once took, and carelessly nailed all the pieces in hotchpotch fashion to one another. Wait till Mimsey sees it ! Although she is personally responsible for making it worse, I am sure she was hoping for a much better completion of the repair. Jeraboa might as well have not bothered. Pendragon has bet me ten pieces of geld that it is torn down again by midnight,and that Mimsey will be seen before dawn,dancing in the dew, manifesting a spell to take care of the unfortunate devastation. I feel my money is not safe,as only a touch of magical divination can now save that rotting piece of garden protection.
The fence may be ok. but Jeraboa's hide is far from being out of the woods yet.
Tomorrow I make music at Dingley Dell Radio Network, and a new week begins.

Much love to you all, my fine feathered beauties,and may you all be relaxing in the glow of the day,with copious chocolate crispies and tankards of fine mead to hand. Remember that with work days to come, some of the brew best be left for another time and another day,as a clear head always beats the folly of the grape.
From all at Flowerpot Cottage,fifth toadstool from the left,from your favourite Amarantha,the Rainbow Faery.

Waiting for the Glow Worm Technician this morning,I decided to check watering conditions in the front garden. I had only been there for two minutes when the door to number four opened and something on four legs came scampering out. Long white hair with black intervening spots,it looked frisky,and ready to play. It spotted me and came towards the fence to have another look. We were both timidly surveying the other,when the Forlorn Faery came running out.
"Oh,there you are",she said, looking at the creature. She turned to me and said,"This is Daisy. I got her from the Dingley Dell Refuge. She'll be good company for me. I have wanted one for a while"
The little mutt came up to the fence ,jumped up and licked my hand.I warmed even more to her as I patted her head. She has two beautifully plaintive eyes,guaranteed to melt the heart of anyone who sees her.
"She's lovely",I said.
Just then a four wheeled carriage arrived ,and out stepped the Glow Worm Specialist. I smiled cheerio to the Forlorn Faery and went to meet him. He was not quite what I expected. Tall, lean, tanned,wearing a warm,fleecy doublet in warm weather, and cut off hose, carrying several boxes of tools and tricks with which to secure our new glow worm fitting.I have forgotten to add that he resembled something gorgeously honed and sun kissed, and I immediately suspected his middle name might be Adonis. I say middle name, because his first name turned out to be Pepisko,and it emerged in our later conversation,that he hailed frm the distant shores of La Mora,where he had once lived in the Seven Golden Hills. He surveyed the task,then busied himself with unpacking our new glow worm fitting,and assembling his tools. He called me when he had finished ,and wss clearly pleased by my exclamations of delight. I thanked him, and he set off ,down the path and away from Flowerpot Cottage to fit more glow worms elsewhere. Before he went ,he told me he was fitting the same arrangement in another home, that of Queen Brighid the Bright. My eyes must have shown my surprise. Not because Queen Brighid apparently had the common sense to order such a beautiful glowing light, but because I knew she would have had a fit of the "hairy habdabs" if she knew that someone else had the same one, and in particular,ME.
Time for some work.I had lunch,checked for messages on my electronic mail box, and found an order for my used parchment about Management Skills. I packed it carefully. I love parcelling,and sticking the labels on the front. I then had to hurry to the Mail Slot before it closed. The light was starting to fade a little when I arrived at my next destination - The Dingley Dell Beauty Parlour. My usual Regeneration Assistant, Looby Lupin, was laying everything out when I put my tired and weary elfen feet over the threshold. All I have to do when I get there is to lie down, and Looby Lupin does the rest.
A pimple busting facial and a blitz of my eyebrow covers, can also be a great way to wind down after a stressful afternoon.She plays haunting elven themes as she carries out her work. Sometimes I doze off,and only awaken when I hear her say" Would you like a glass of water, Amarantha ?" Those words signal the end of a most restorative experience.
I walked back up the hill on my way home to Lobelia Drive,thinking how content I am with this wonderful life. It has been rather a good week,with some major successes in my Radio, Writing and Parchment Work. My enthusiasm is at its height for these creative pursuits, and my imaginative channel seems to be re-awakening. Pendragon is helping me all he can,in word and deed. He came home tonight with some more used parchments for me to sell. Tomorrow we head for the Metropolis to have some fun in the Big City. Along the way,there will be time for some dreaming,some planning,some laughter,and some serious tonsil tennis. After all,an elven girl can't have too many kisses,can she ?

May your days be filled with the many leisure pursuits,which Dingley Dell has to offer, and may your nights be filled with the wonder that is two. Much love to you all,my dearest of friends,from, Daisy, The Forlorn Faery, and all at number five Lobelia Drive. Most of all,from Amarantha, the Rainbow Faery.

The day began with a cool shower in our bathing room. It was rather warm last night and I don't think either Pendragon or I had a complete night of sleep. I began work by checking my electronic box for messages and possible parchment sales. Two orders were in ,and before breakfast I had them checked and parcelled up,ready for the Postal Slot. My used parchment business is slow but certainly steady at the moment with a few orders every week.Not enough to make a fortune with,but hopefully as I learn how to manage the business well,my sales will improve. I am taking some time to assess the parchments which I have,quite carefully,before stating my prices. Research already has fished out 3 parchments worth between 40 and 150 pieces of geld. Hopefully some buyers will fish these out from my list and make me a serious payday. I really enjoy working with these parchments and dealing with my woodland customers. I enjoy working with other folk of all sorts,from sprites to boggarts. Parchments are so beautiful to handle. I have always loved them. We had lots of them in my elven home as a child, and I was encouraged to read and handle them. When others were out chasing squirrels and hobnobbing with hedgehogs, I was to be found under the patched eiderdown in my little toadstool room,completely immersed in some old parchment- the older and fustier the better. When I visited my ancient elven grandmother, I was never to be found playing in her rose and geranium garden.No, I always asked if I could read the old poetry parchments,or the classic stories written by the ancients ,which she kept in an oaken chest by the hearth.
A little parchment grub,that's what I was,soaking up the ideas and the images in these great works. My elven mother used to despair of me. I think she was proud of my ability to read and understand, but worried that I was allowing my friendships to fall by the wayside, as I followed my passion. I did play with my brothers and sister, and had many friends, but there times when only a parchment would do.

Pendragon has to stay in the Metropolis tonight, as some visitors to the University have to be entertained. I am journeying to his city basement toadstool tomorrow night,and we will weekend there.He has promised to take me shopping in the city mercantiles, dine later in one of the city's finest restaurants.We must visit the Faery Seamstress on Sunday, for a second fitting and fabric discussion.
It looks to be a fine weekend there. I will return on Sunday night to complete some work.

Tomorrow promises to be busy too. I need to rise early as the Glowworm Fitter is arriving at ten to fit a more modern glowworm setting in our main room. It will effect a very subdued glow of light in our
sitting area,and can be lightened or darkened at will. We have awaited its arrival for seven weeks,as it was ordered from Transatlantia,land of Pendragon's birth.
We both like nice thngs,and know that this will subtly change the appearance of our living area,making it more 21st century.
I have several chores to complete this evening before I can relax. I must tidy our bedroom and press our vestments,pack some items for my weekend stay in Metropolis,and generally clean up our eating space. Before the light comes down,I need to water all our growing things,as rain will be a few more days away.
An elven woman's work is never done, but so be it. Our toadstool home is our pride and joy,and no amount of effort is ever too much to keep it spick and span.

I have just seen Mimsey and Jeraboa Dagwort passing my window, dressed in bright pink running vestments.
On her it looks too young, loose and flimsey, on him it just looks ......................well, I am sure you can supply your own descriptive terms. Me oh my, the things you see when you haven't got a spell book.
If Pendragon ever dares to don such a garment, I shall post pictures of it to all his friends ,as a penance.

Much light in your lives this evening,my dear electronic friends, and may the joys of the city Ie yours for the travelling, this dazzling summer weekend. From Amarantha, your very own Rainbow Faery.

The trip over the Big Water today to Brigantia was a fine one. The water looked so calm and was a beautiful shade of greyish blue. Traffic was less at the time when I journeyed, and the freeflow allowed me to enjoy the crossing more.I was on my way to visit Ally Bally Drillhammer,to keep my alternative appointment with him,as the original had been missed last week. Not my fault as I am sure you will remember.Ally's back had taken a turn for the worse and he had headed back home, leaving me high and dry in the waiting room .Ally has an ongoing problem with his spine,and neck, which sometimes leaves him in agony trying to carry out dental work in extreme positions. When I arrived,however, he was in the waiting room and seemed to be back in good spirits. I only had to wait two minutes ,before my name was called.
Allowing even the most accomplished Dental Technician,which Ally Bally undoubtedly is,the opportunity to rummage through my potential cavities, is very difficult for me. I have sensitive gums and thin enamel,which compounded together,makes for a rather fearful experience.But Ally Bally was pleased. He gave my biting mechanisms a good inspection and declared them in excellent condition and fighting fit for action.
That is, all except one.
I do have a small molar with a budding cavity. Tiny in fact,but it could develop into something more vicious,so it is going to have to be fixed. News that I was dreading, but Ally Bally took great pains to reassure me that it would not take long or present any difficulty. The thought of drilling of any kind sets off my antipathy to all things dental, but needs must. At least I have two full weeks to enjoy myself before the injection looms and the drill digs deep. I am dreading it already, and am sure I will have to partake of one of Pendragon's desensitizing courses just to get through Ally Bally's door.Either that,or a large bottle of Pendragon's homemade raspberry mead. It has a kick like a mule,and even if it doesn't kill the pain, you are a lot happier in your suffering.
That done with, I set off back home,back across the Big Water, to collect some provisions from the Supermercantile in Dingley Dell. Bags of fruit and fresh vegetables were piled high into my trolley,plus a few secret treats to enjoy while I am writing to all my friends. Plum jelly jubejubes, sweet and sour crab apples, minty pearballs, and a selection of liquorice toffees. Not on Ally Bally's list of approved sweetmeats,but guaranteed to clear the brain when writer's block descends and threatens the life of my agony column.
Talking of which,Portamus Cumberpatch came to meet me on Tuesday when I delivered my page.He also seemed to be full of summer bonhomie as I popped my head round the door,and called out for me to join him in his inner sanctum for a spot of peppermint and eucalyptus tisane. I was running late,but it is one of my favourites,so I nodded acquiescently, and joined him for a cuppa. As his wrought iron kettle bubbled on the hob, he signalled to me to look at the sheet of paper on his desk. It was a letter in a rather fine hand,addressed to the editor, singing the praises of the Daily Scandal's newest columnist, Amarantha. I had the decency to blush and assume my coyest demeanour as Portamus scanned my features for any reaction. Inside,I was jumping up and down with fevered excitement,and longing to yell "yipee" out loud. But I did resist this rather infantile show of self praise in favour of a blast of measured self deprecation.

"That's very pleasing " I said,sweetly. "I have been trying very hard."
"Yes,indeed,said Portamus. "You seem to be very popular.More letters are arriving for you every day. I must say, I didn't know that Dingley Dell had so many problems. I have been thinking.......

My heart sank.This was always a dangerous admission from the likes of Cumberpatch,as it could only pre-empt the announcement of something that he wanted and I didn't. To be sure, his next words were......
"I feel we might allow you an extra letter to answer,Amarantha, and maybe each reply could be 150 words. Starting next week........how about it ?"

I was feeling less than enthusiastic,to be totally honest. The magic words, "more geld" had not been mentioned, and I had never been in this position before- having to find the necessary negotiating vocabulary to win a higher salary.
He seemed to read my mind,did good old Cumberpatch,though. My uncomfortable pause after his main congratulations must have conveyed to him that Amarantha,his prize agony elf,might not be going to instantly agree without some kind of incentive.
"Of course,I will make it worth your extra work, Amarantha. How about it if I double the pay for an extra letter ? I can't do more,I"m afraid,you see the economy.......too many wages.......too few dividends, .........a lot more overheads.......
I stopped him short with my zealous "YES! YES ! YES ! ONE MORE LETTER, AND DOUBLE THE GELD !"
We both laughed, and full of renewed joie de vivre, I leaned over and placed a timely peck on to old Cumbie's fevered brow.
"OH,dear, oh my," was all he said.
By this time, I was dancing through the inner sanctum door,past the gaping junior reporters, - waving to Portamus's frowning secretary ,the sanctimonious harridan who guards my every move, and kicked up my heels as I closed the outer door. Yes,it is true. As an agony elf, I think I have just arrived.

Much love to you all my good friends, on this wickedly wonderful Wednesday. May all your stars be on the ascendant,and may all drillings in your life be only for Oil. From a very happy Amarantha,the sylph of the problem page,your very own Rainbow Faery.

I arrived at Dingley Dell Radio Network rather earlier than usual,to make satisfactory preparations for my show ,and the potentially daunting interview with Dudley Forepiece,author and raconteur of this elven parish. In the hour which I had to spare before he arrived, I sorted all my music into order, had my show notes on one side and my "interview" notes on the other. At two hours of the cuckoo clock,I faded in my opening music and promo, said my welcoming words and "Razmattaz' was off and running. I knew that Dudley would arrive sometime in the middle of my show,and I would have to keep the show moving while he settled in. No easy task,when he was a demanding, self concerned elven toerag,and the last thing I wanted was for nerves to make me make some basic error on the desk. The show was flowing smoothly.I had played tracks from elven crooners,big band noises, some 20th century pop combos ,and delivered my "Poem of the Week". Dreelie Firethorn put his tousled goblin head round the door to wish me luck,when from behind him, Jiminy Jinks gave me the thumbs up that Dudley had arrived. To be honest I could hear him in the background before I saw him. A loud jangly voice,with a myriad of high and low tones,which seemed to reverberate around the Station. Jiminy bowed a low cheeky bow as Dudley flounced into Studio One.Dudley was not tall,but in his pink and white leather doublet,with matching cerise hose, he was certainly not a figure one could ignore .He had finely sculpted elven features,but rather too sharp a classical nose, and a shock of black swept back hair . I could feel his black piercing eyes take in my tiny frame,and could sense already that he could sweep away any confidence I might have pretended to have,with one sarcastic blow from his stock of razor sharp witticisms.

"Dudley, this is Amarantha. Amarantha,this is Dudley."announced Jiminy, before clicking his 2 inch heels together,and leaving me with his wickedest smile.
I signalled graciously to Dudley to occupy the best seat in the house,while I announced a further
track, and that Dudley Forepiece was in the building.
The next piece of music was a particular favourite of mine by an elven crooner of the early twentieth century, Alocantor Bing.He was to sing " All alone,in the pale moonlight",and I explained to my listeners , before he began,that this had been a particular favourite of my elven mother.Imagine my surprise, as the first few bars rang out,to see tears welling up in the eyes of Dudley Forepiece. It is a very moving song,but I had not put Dudley down to be the sentimental type.The song drifted away in its last moments,and opening both microphones, I welcomed Dudley to my programme.

He looked straight at me,his pink lacy hankie still dabbing at his eyes, and said, "Hello everyone,and thank you so much ,Amarantha, for playing a piece of music that means so much to me too. My own dear mother loved to listen to Alacantor on her little woodland turntable, and that was the song which was dearest to her heart."
I was dumbfounded. Was this just outrageously good fortune ? Had I managed,unwittingly,to pave the way for an interview with Dudley,that might just pass without incident or insult ? I had no time to consider further the whys or wherefores, it was time to begin.
"Yes, Dudley," I replied. "Alicantor Bing was one of our finest tenors."
At that Dudley came in again to put forth his critique of the Bing Back Catalogue,clearly lost in a sea of memories and sentimentality. The interview for him had clearly begun.
"And you,Dudley,are one of our finest writers of romantic fiction. How did it all begin?" I asked.
Off he went again,needing nothing in the way of prompting to explain his raison d'etre. And so the interview went on. All I had to do was drop in a small cathartic comment,and off he went, baring his writer's soul, and fulfilling all those answers to all those questions that my listeners might have wanted to ask. Nay verily, he went off at such a tangent on occasion, that he might well have been vaccinated with the proverbial woodland turntable needle.
Twenty three minutes later, we had covered boyhood,manhood, past loves and future dreams, old parchments, and tomorrow's yet to be published scripts. He was still smiling, his hankie was still dabbing some wet glint in his eye, and I was still holding my own with this "enfant terrible" of the romantic fiction world.
"Thank you ,Dudley Forepiece,for being my guest today," I said." We will all be awaiting Dudley's latest offering," Fast Flows the Elven Tide",on sale in Dingley Dell's good mercantiles tomorrow. "
And now for our final track from Alicantor Bing - Farewell, my elven youth".

I pushed the fader to go,and Alicantor's tenor voice filled the studio. I was just about to thank Dudley for what had been a mesmorising interview, when he rushed forward out of his seat,grabbed my left hand and with a final Forepiece flourish, proceeded to cover my fingers with kisses. The urge to pull away was great,but I had got this far with Dudley without an unkind word, and I was reluctant to mar the euphoric haze.
Before any words could leave my lips,though, the great man stopped me with a finger to his lips.
"Thank you,dear Ms. Willow, for a wonderful afternoon. How did you know my favourite singer was the Mighty Bing ?"
Thankfully I did not have to make up an answer to that question, for the studio door opened, and Jiminy Jinks,clearly stunned into disbelief, announced that Dudley's large motor carriage had arrived.
Dudley Forepiece strode to the door,and with a final kiss blown from the doorway, called out "Bye now,the Divine Ms. Willow ? "He turned on his heel and was gone.

Alicantor Bing was just finishing, so I publicly thanked Dudley once again and finished my show with a flourish and some other fine tunes.I packed my music back into its box,collected my coat and made my way to the reception desk. A delegation of presenters and secretaries ,and one or two back room boys were waiting there to say " well done".
"How did you know ,Amarantha? said Jiminy Jinks. How did you find out what his favourite music was ?
He was eating out of your hand ."
"That's for me to know,I laughed. And for you ,Jiminy Jinks, to find out. "
I laughed all the way back to my motor carriage,and back to the peace of my little toadstool home.

Who could have supposed that this afternoon would have turned out this way? Ours is not to reason why - ours is just to accept "gift horses " as they trot along. I will take great pleasure in playing back my interview with the deadly Dudley, to Pendragon this evening. He will be surprised ,and pleased for me,and I suspect a little relieved that no "elven leg" needed to be flourishedI. I don't think I'll mention the kisses, though.

Much good fortune to all of you,my dear friends, on this mad and mildly middling Monday. May all your challenges meet with heavenly intervention, and may all your woodland phonographic helpings be the vocal renderings of Alicantor Bing.
From Amarantha Willow,writer and broadcaster extraordinaire, the Rainbow Faery.

I checked my small greenhouse cloche this afternoon as the rain has railed down in sheets all day . They have received no damage at all and in fact, seem to be going from strength to strength. The sweet peas are now plants, and ready to be repotted.
Pendragon and I had a leisurely breakfast in the Sun Room. I made my special yoghurt surprise,of mixed berries,two kinds of yoghurt, oats, seeds,pineapple,raisins, apple and honey. We do enjoy this healthy mixture, and I followed it up with some sices of healthy wholemeal toast and acorn coffee. There was no blue sky for us to eat it under, but the day was warm,and the backyard view very pleasing.

We have not seen the Forlorn Faery for three days now. Pendragon thinks she has gone on holiday to sunnier climes,giving the opportunity to a host of goblin workmen to complete a few key tasks in the garden.
They have been banging at all hours, hammering a new shed and some decking together.The copious weeds have been hacked down,but there is still much to do before we could call it a "garden". She is a game old bird,as they say,to be taking on this slightly delapidated toadstool,but she is definitely making a difference.
Due to the appalling weather conditios today my surveillance of the goings on at number 6 has had to be curtailed. We know that Granny Primpole is there this weekend,so the Primpoles activities will be limited any way to running up and down stairs at her every whim. They were all out in the Backyard yesterday,pouring mead,and munching on barbecued meat sticks. Granny Primpole only has one way,and that is to shout out orders ,loud and long, and mainly in Weedy's direction. Weedy was in summer mode,in a yellow short-sleeved blouson,with khaki knee length cut-off hose. He looked like a rather bilious over ripe banana to be honest,and Granny Primpole could hardly miss him if she needed a target. From my vantage point,skulking behind the camelia bush, which is creeping along the back slatted fence, he conveyed all the timidity of a down- trodden elven son-in-law. Despite the apparent merriment of the others,Weedy looked like he just wanted to be somewhere else.
So the mystery of the "blue striped blanket stuffed into back of motor carriage" remains unsolved, or unsolveable for the time being .Should Weedy be seen to repeat this after the weekend, then Granny Primpole has to be a key candidate.
Over the road the Dagworts at number 10 continue to surprise. On Saturday,and today, Mimsey and Jeraboa have been noted jogging to and fro in their efforts to attain bodily rehabilitation. It would be difficult to identify any visible improvement at the moment,but time and effort, I am sure , will prove the personal punishment to be worthwhile. However, if Mimsey continues to complete her jogging schedule,then retire to the front lawn munching a large bag of toasty fries on every occasion,
perfection may take a little while longer.

Monday will bring my showtime at Dingley Dell Community Radio Network, so I have some preparation to do tonight. Dudley Forepiece ,local celebrated author, is to be my guest,so I need to check out the resume I have put together. Since I have not read any of his romantic novelette parchments,I shall have to make my preparation thorough. Jiminy Jinks has warned me that Dudley can swallow interviewers whole at one sitting, metaphorically speaking,if they show a lack of knowledge of his "distinguished career". "If in doubt" ,he said, "show a bit of elven leg".
Since I have no intention of allowing smarmy Dudley Forepiece to catch a glimpse of my elegant gams,I will have to fall back on the only other talents I have, my undeniable charm and a strong abilty to "coast".

Happy weekending,to all my friends, and may the joys of the future week be already unfolding. From Amarantha,Mrs. Willow-to-be, the Rainbow Faery.
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