Strange things happen when you take your eye off the elven ball. I was chewing a bowl of oaten munchies this morning,when my eye caught sight of something new across the street. Our toadstool directly faces on to the side of the Dagwort's three up and down ,and their boundary hedge in particular. It has been lying waiting to be fixed,thanks to Jeraboa's incendiary hobbies,and has been lying a good long time. However, this morning,it is as new,no signs of charring,large holes,sundry gaps in the branches or loose boards straddled across the yawning divide. This is puzzling,since there was no new growth yesterday,and no signs of any visiting workmen/gardeners around looking to effect a repair.
So,how can this have been achieved ?
Wishful thinking,you can discount. Miracles are too much to have expected. I can only surmise that there must have been some potion fixing,some spell weaving or some minor mumbo jumbo carried out at number 10 overnight. I shall be watching Mimsey as she passes from now on,to see if I sense any embarrassment or tension in her demeanour. According to the local Grand Order of white witchery to which Mimsey belongs,these kinds of antics have not been allowed for some time.Let nature be the way,they do say,and no tampering with normal regrowth. She must have been sick fed up looking at it,so gross was the disrepair which her lumpen betrothed effected. I must admit to feeling a certain sympathy for her situation,as it was never going to be right any other way.My sympathy has also magnified since I caught sight of the huge cardboard box of mead bottles waiting for collection by the rubbish uplifters today. This represents only one week's consumption,so someone in that toadstool has been giving sobriety a fair bit of battering. It can't be the sweet little Mimsey(although,who could blame her ?),so it must be the red-necked,and now possibly red-nosed Jeraboa. Disobeying the orders of the Grand Order can lead to excommunication from coven for life, so I hope no one else in the close has picked up on the overnight immaculate mend.
I had lots of admin. to do today, and a mighty parchment order to ship,so my feet never touched the pavement till after lunch. I took everything to the Mailing Slot,and sought a little peace and quiet reflection in the Tumbling Weasel Cafe.
Not one of my prettier haunts,,more a last resort saloon,when Wednesday closing has given me no alternative. It was very busy today,being the only one open,and although I found a seat ,I couldn't enjoy the pictures from the window,because the tables were so full,and the view obscured.To add insult to injury,my order of a pleasing plate of coriander and carrot consomme was cold,and my teacup showed signs of overflowing tea leaves. I didn't want to complain.Young Lotus Verbena served me,and she already looked on the verge of tears due to the lack of enough support behind the counter.
I passed the time contemplating my new role as Entertainment columnist with the Daily Scandal, and scanning the present visitors to this little cafe on the prom.
Aster and Curmudgabo Barleymould were sitting across from my table.I hid behind my menu with my head down,to avoid having to acknowledge their presence. They singlehandedly converted the Tumbling Weasel from dull to depressing. Of the two,"She who is in command" ordered,paid, and dictated the size of the other's portion. Curmudgabo just sat listless,doing her bidding,in painful acquiescence to his complete emasculation. He must have been a captain of industry once,but definitely not behind the chintz floral curtains. Aster is an elven lady to be reckoned with, a friend of Queen Brighid the Bright; she moves in the same illustrious circles,with a finger in all the socially advancing pies. Her short,dangerously sculpted white hair, face like a walloped haddock's backside, prim exterior of jacket and skirt bucking any fashionable trend to a fault- all made her an unapproachable and imperious figure.
They left,after a half scone and one cup of dandelion tea,taking their pinched mystique with them.
I left too,with thoughts of Pendragon's dinner,and a little tidying up in mind.
Tomorrow, definitely Brigantia,and more buzzing around.
Much love to you all,my trusty companions of the electronic box .Keep your minds open,your hands full,and stay clear of pinched lips and cold ,cold hearts. Wise words from Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.
