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.
