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.
