toadstooltales

I had an early wander around Dingley Dell Harbour this morning. Pendragon woke me at seven with a cup of spearminr and camomile tea,and once I had had it, I could not fall asleep again. I got up,washed and dressed,had a rushed but hazy breakfast,and popped out to make my way to the village centre. I was much too early for my appointment with the Faery Beautician,so I wandered the length of the High Street until I came to the Lifeboat Shed. Other elven folk were already around,some staring out to the Big Water like myself,others sitting on the nearby benches soaking up the new morning air and being at peace with themselves. The sea was a very calm blue and the view very clear across to the horizon and beyond. There is an island under the bridge and every inch of the fortress which stretches across its middle could be seen. Every dark window, every grassy knoll,every rangey battlement stood proud in the early morning light. I sat on the one empty bench and took in the sights.
I was not due to have my face cleansed and polished till eleven,so I felt a cup of some warm brew was due to me while I was waiting. I headed back to the Buttercup Bistro ,which had just opened for the day , and captured that all important favourite window seat. Better still the boggart boy was not there. I think he only works in the afternoons,so I felt I would be safe from his limpet eyes and his puppy dog gaze. I was young myself once and I am sure I suffered from painful crushes of all kinds,so I do understand.But it is no fun being the recipient of one,and to be honest,I have not the patience to wait for his doomed attachment to run its course.
Having a hot cup of acorn tea in solitude gives one time to think and count one's blessings. I lost myself for a few minutes in my own thoughts and in the first few pages of today's Daily Scandal. Once I had demolished the headlines I could not hold back a burning desire to read my own column on page fifteen.
There it was ,bold as you like,with my byline. This week's celebrity interview with Pandora Nascallora,the concert pianist,towered above my book of the week, my film of the month,my review of the current play at the Boysenberry Halls,and Amarantha's tittle tattle upon a week of life and love in Dingley Dell. It was a full colour spread,and I smiled to myself,still tickled to find myself unbelievably in print.It all looked very good and I hoped my team and Cumberpatch were well pleased with it too.
In the beauty Parlour, I lay listening to relaxing music while the shy elven maid Lukushia massaged my neck and face with sweet oils. I drifted off to a lightwieght slumber at least a couple of times,while she polished my skin and trimmed my eyebrows.
There were many other tasks to be undertaken today,so I was grateful for the extra sleep.
Pendragon and I have a full weekend ahead of us from tomorrow,including dinner and a theatre visit on Saturday,and merry pranks with the Theatricals on Sunday. I shall relax tonight,pack a few fine vestments for my stay and watch an exciting thriller on the electronic picture box.

I hope you have had a fruitful week,my dear redoutables. With much praise and satisfaction coming to you for your labours. Take care to enjoy the last of the Metropolis Festival, and maybe lay plans for that sun-kissed autumn holiday for two or more. With love from the troops at Lobelia Drive,especially dear Miss Willow,the divine Amarantha,the Rainbow Faery.

The Fearless Faery and I chatted for ages yesterday over the front garden fence. It is amazing really,as we do not really have very much in common. Our lifestyles are very diverse,but we seem to get along just by being interested in what the other is busy with. She always has some tidy gossip to tell me and I seem to thrill her with my tales of my exploits in Metropolis . She has a gentle nature on the surface,but I think she could be a smouldering fire underneath. I feel there are many things she does not tell you,and has a kind of presence which she shows the world,but keeps the door shut to some other secret life. Her pretty little beast Daisy ran around trying to capture a butterfly of stunning red shades as it flitted to and fro between the fading blooms in both our gardens. The butterfly had the best of her,unfortunately, being much too fast and much too wary to be caught by a mere barking creature.

Our meeting with Queen Brighid the Bright went reasonably well. Pendragon did not look very pleased for most of the evening,as she ploughed through reams of ancient parchments trying to settle on choices for songs and readings. He wanted to be somewhere else doing other things, instead of listening to her droning tones.
We did eventually find some mutual ground and made up an agenda for our betrothal ceremony. We did laugh occasionally and reminisce over some joint activities we had been involved with, and she seemed pleased at our ardour to be wed,and share our lives together. I am sure I saw a small mist well up in at least one of her shiny blue eyes when we talked of how we had met,and the great times we had spent together already. Queen Brighid used to have a partner a good ten years ago - a startlingly handsome elven stockbroker,whom she loved to parade on her arm at Dingley community events.But it all came to a sad and nasty end when he ran off to foreign parts with a local tavern wench named Salliva . She was a buxom piece with mouth to match ,with a rather too well-known and chequered history with Dingley's lotharios,and not at all the kind of woman you might have expected him to fall for. Un-educated,uncultured and with a taste for the grape. Anyway,Queen Brighid has not heard of,or seen him since . She tells those in her inner circle that she cares not a whit, and that if he ever returned she would drum him back out of the village post haste. But in the dead of night,when she is at her most alone,I fear that her heart still aches and her soul still pines for the dark-haired lothario who once shared her four poster. The incident has hardened her feelings to the plight of others though,and sometimes,in some critical situations she comes across as brittle and sharp.
So I daresay Pendragon and I got off lightly on Tuesday. She sailed through our interview with hardly a harsh word. She tittered a little when I said my dress would be dark red, but made no big fuss. Pendragon is such a darling soul in company that I don't think she dared break his happy mood,and I think the magic that pervades our homely toadstool brings feelings of warmth and comfort to all those who enter.
She left with a gay goodnight and almost a smile.

I met with the Rugman today. The carpet on our stairway is looking the worse for wear,and is proving very difficult to clean. So the Rugmsn came to inspect it,declared it past its best and has measured up for a beautiful ,pure wool navy runner.I am very excited about it. It will make a great deal of difference to our hallway ,the first part of our toadstool which visitors see when they arrive.Wally our clock cuckoo,darted out and in a few times as the Rugman was leaving,thereby giving the navy choice his full approval as well.
The rest of today has been full of chores from pressing vestments to writing letters,to sweeping paths,and filing documents. A working day is what we call it. The fearless Faery was out scything her grassy patch, when I went to the Mail Slot and when I returned I bumped into Weedy and Severity Primpole returning home after a long walk with their wildebeests. They smiled (at least their lips seemed to part in that direction) and trundled on. They would not want to stop for fear the wildebeests followed their natural instincts and ate me. Weedy seemed to be having particular difficulty hanging on to the black one,and was dragged back through the gate and up the path. Severity gaily trotted behind with the old gold beast, and gingerly pushed it into the house,before closing the world out and them in.

Tomorrow I have another busy day.The morning in Brigantia,a meeting over lunch with my editorial team, and maybe a quiet coffee somewhere nice before taking some photographs for one of my painting projects.
i have my first betrothal gown fitting on Tuesday .I am very excited about this. The dress is going to be beautiful. On Monday I am going to be fitted for some lacey underpinnings as I want to look my best in my ceremony dress.
The days this week have been characterised by greyness and windyness outside.The nights are growing colder. The garden seems to have lost a lot of its colour and strength. The birds visiting the birdhouse are growing fewer and I have not seen Bob the Bee for two weeks. Some sad,dying wasps have hovered,in their last throes of life. And our little black toad has not been seen either since two weeks past Friday. Nature is turning, and we cannot alter the circle of life.

Button up your overcoats,my dear winsome ones, and strap on your galoshes up to the knee. Woolly scarves and mittens are about to make a reappearance, when the wildness of autumn days comes upon us.
It might be too much to hope now for signs of an Indian summer, but Saturday might delude you into thinking that may happen.
From Amarantha Willow,the pride of Lobelia Drive,the Rainbow Faery.

Our visit to the theatre on Saturday was mesmerising. We had a beautiful dinner in the Gourmet Toadstool,and headed off to the theatre three doors down. The dance company was International,and the production a mixed media affair. Perfect dance moves,fantastic backdrop of moving images, impeccable music and stunning visual impact all added up to a thrilling performance. We walked home afterwards to Pendragon's city toadstool,with the stars of contentment still in our eyes.
We sat up for a while sipping our cocoa,and talking about the evening,and then fell into bed, in each other's arms.
On Sunday we went out for brunch ,a tasty vegetarian grill with tall glasses of bramble juice. We walked down to the theatre by The Water of Hilthe.It was sunny and the water shimmered.We passed sundry other walkers all stretching their legs in the late summer sunshine. I arrived at the theatre on the stroke of one,to find the other Theatricals either there or arriving.
Remindur gathered us all together,ran through a warm-up and exercises,and then set us a task to prepare a choral piece together. Some musicians in our merry band prepared a piece of backing music ,and we performed music and choral work together. It sounded terrific. Remindur was pleased,and felt it would help him to make decisions about the larger parts on offer. We have not yet been told how our auditions went,but every heart beats to be told it has been successful.
Another lovely day. Pendragon and I returned to our toadstool home in Dingley Dell for six,and Pendragon threw some ingredients together in the kitchen to make our evening meal.Off to bed at ten, I slept soundly.
Today has been blustery outside,so I have not ventured far.I did admin. work this morning and housework this afternoon. Suddenly I seem to be seeing more of our neighbours after a couple of weeks of them being virtually invisible. From my living room window today,at various times, I saw Jeraboa Dagwort, Weedy Primpole, Nobby Shilpit, and the Fearless Faery. The Primpoles have arrived back after two weeks gathering rust in the Drookit Hills of Perothia. It rained every day.I heard Severity tell a passing neighbour so,as she was hanging over the gate of the Primpole Toadstool. I cannot imagine why they take these ghastly holidays in their small touring toadstool. Hardly room to swing a marmalade cat in ,never mind two large wildebeests and themselves,Weedy and Severity. They must have been damp inside and out for a whole fortnight. The wildebeests have been barking round the clock since they returned.
Jeraboa Dagwort seems to be putting on a little weight around his middle. His red neck seems to be even thicker than it was before, and there is a distinct roll of blubber hanging over his belt. I have not seen Mimsey for ages.It does seem strange.I have seen Jeraboa occasionally,with his daughter Ariadne,but not with the ever anxious Mimsey. I must keep an eye on things.Who knows what murky plotting may be afoot in the arbours of number ten Lobelia Drive ?
Tomorrow I travel to Brigantia to the GeldHouse to transfer some funding,and possibly purchase some parchments.I need to return early,as we are receiving a visit from Queen Brighid the Bright in the evening. She is coming to see Pendragon and myself to discuss the arrangements for our Betrothal Day.I want the toadstool to gleam as she is notorious for finding fault with every one she visits.
I will have some red wine and canapes ready should she have time between criticisms to satisfy the needs of her stomach.
Dear sweet Pendragon will be the soul of gentlemanly good manners despite any of her annoying comments,and I shall also put a hold on my tongue,should any of her withering remarks head in my direction. Hopefully she will tire of us quickly and leave our toadstool haven by ten pm.

Love and stuff to you all,my dear friends, and may Tuesday's climes be fine wherever you may be.
From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

I was barely out of my gossamer nightie and into my black palazzo pants and tunic when the woodland phone ringing commanded my attention. It was Portamus Cumberpatch,my editor, with a song in his voice. He was definitely chirpy,and full of today's missing sunshine.
"Amarantha, my dear, well, well, well. You did manage to carry the day, yesterday,didn't you ?
I had Whimperstrand on the phone only this morning,asking when the photographer was likely to call. He wanted to know so that he could look his best." said the old boy,full of wit and bonhomie.
I decided not to sound too smug,and just lap up any compliments going.
"Thank you ,Portamus", I said. "So he was pleased,then ,with the way the interview went ?"

"Seems like it,although you can never tell with old Gravelpounce. He did ask a lot of questions this morning,wanting to confirm everything you had told him about the article,but that's just what I would expect from him. He trusts no one. The main thing is, there were no complaints. A complete first. He did actually ask what your background as a journalist was,seemed to be fishing for something I thought,but when I said you were rather new to the game, he said he thought you were very thorough and very professional."

And very pushy, I thought,but did not say it aloud.
"Thank you, Portamus, I did my best, and kept my eye on the ball."

He reminded me about Friday's editorial meeting and said cheerybye. I was left to wonder. What was Whimperstrand looking for in his questioning about me ? Did he remember me from two years ago ? Or was he just a man who could not rest till he knew everything about you, hoping to find something you would not want him to know ? I suspect the latter was true, but made up my mind to be thankful that my part in the interview was over for now, and I would definitely be watching my back when the Director of Dingley Dell Festival was arounnd. I had written the article in such a way to avoid his being offended or suspecting ulterior motive. Surely that's the last i would hear of him for a while ?

I have been shopping today,most specifically for new vestments for myself. Pendragon tells me my old vestments seem to have seen better days (he means it kindly ) and wants me to have some new items to enjoy myself in. So I went to the elven designer retail outlet and picked out a black lady's dinner jacket and trousers, a lacy party dress and a new designer overjacket.All very sleek and well made,and making me quite the elven lady about town. I am sure Pendragon will be pleased .

He is working with an electronic picture box company in Metropolis today, lecturing the employees on stress and how to manage it. He is very well thought of in the outside world, having written several parchments,and done many broadcasts for the same company. I am so proud of him. And I know he is proud of me.
The sun has started to shine again but I feel I cannot trust the weather to stay this way long enough to hang some washing. So the toadstool seems musty and slightly damp in corners. They will dry fairly quickly, I hope, as I hate Pendragon coming home to a sea of limp,washed garments draped over every orifice.
Tomorrow I visit Brigantia to have my tresses treated by the Faery Hair Technician. My technician Melissande is always charming ,and takes great care of my crowning glory, my beautiful dark red flowing curls. We usually have a good gossip too, and several cups of acorn decaff. plus a planning session for my Betrothal Day hair.
On Saturday Pendragon and I are staying overnight in his city toadstool ,following a special meal and a show. We are going to see the work of a dance company, Moderna Entrechats, who are on tour and visiting the big city. I love dancing , and all things dance, so will be glued to every move on stage.
I rehearse again on Sunday with the Theatricals. Remindur has asked us to bring a musical instrument with us. I am still not sure what to take as I am not accomplished on any fine instrument. However I could be coaxed to do something on the lyre, or shake the tambour in time to some lively percussion.
Maybe I will just offer to dance in time to other's playing as my skill has not diminished with the years ,and I have been known to bring a room to a standstill with my accomplished arabesques and jetees.

Till I speak to you again, my little wonders of the modern world,ensure you are keeping yourself abreast of cultural matters and refining your own artistic skills. Love and much terpsichory to you all,from Amarantha Willow, Grande Dame de Ballet, the Rainbow Faery.

I looked at myself long and hard this morning in the mirror,checking for those signs of professionalism that I used to see when I was working at school. Yes, I was well pleased. My hair was beautifully washed and set, my clothes were smart and pressed, and my small- heeled slippers were perfect for a business suit. I had a briefcase full of pens and parchment,with which to take notes, and a clear head with which to deliver important questions. I looked the very measure of a high class elven journalist. Refusing to allow any negative thoughts to creep into my mind, I had a healthy breakfast of fruit and cereals,and sat down to do some admin. work before I had to leave.
Twelve noon came around sooner than I wanted,but Wally our toadstool cuckoo never gets it wrong,and the sight of him stumbling out of our pretty Swiss clock ,to the tune of tinkling bells,did cause my heart and stomach to flutter a little.
I was determined to walk to the Dingley Dell Town House where I was sure to find Gravelpounce Whimperstrand, waiting with baited rasping breath no doubt ,to swallow my reservoir of confidence in two shakes of a peacock's feather. Keeping up this sham of unassailability was proving difficult. But the warm wet air surrounding me on my walk, restored my spirits, and rejuvenated my taste for the fray ahead. I had time for an acorn decaff at the Buttercup Bistro, and to read a chapter of the latest Mallicia Goldstammer romantic novelette,before climbing the pathway towards the Dingley Dell Town House.

I arrived at the glass -doored building,and pressed the entry button. It was exactly 1.45 pm and I was early enough to be considered punctual. A cultured feminine elven voice answered "Your name,please ?"

"Amarantha Willow,to see Mr. Whimperstrand. I'm from the Daily Scandal.I have an appointment."

"That's fine, just come in."
I pushed open the glass door,and saw the receptionist, Hetty Dimpelwing, smiling at me from the front desk. I know Hetty rather well,as she was one of my hardest working parents from Dingley Dell Academy. I smiled a little limply back ,and asked for instructions to the Great Man's Office.

"First floor, second on the left, and don't let him phase you. Be yourself ,and keep smiling. He hates that." said Hetty cheerfully. "I know you'll cope,you had much worse to deal with at Dingley Dell."

I thanked her with a slightly wider smile and hit the button for the lift. Two minutes later,I was in Whimperstrand's outer office,and his secretary,a thin slip of a teenage sprite,was letting him know that I had arrived.
She re-emerged and bade me go in.
I tightened everything above and below my pearl buttoned belt and with confidence in my step turned the handle on the Director's door.
I spoke immediately, hoping to set the mood before he did.
"I'm Amarantha Willow" I said,offering my hand as I turned towards the carved ebony chair behind his desk. He offered me his in return,and we both stopped,slightly open- mouthed.

You see ,we had met before, and at that moment, I am sure, we both remembered when and where. So this was Gravelpounce Whimperstrand, Director of Dingley Dell Festival. A tall man, sturdy in frame,with a bouffant of grey hair piled up over his ears. Bright eyed,the elven siver blue, a rather beaky nose, and a mouth that seemed to naturally curve into a sarcastic smile. Yes, I remember him.
Two summers ago, I had taken a similar walk down to Dingley Dell Community Radio, for an interview with the Management Committee, to apply for a presenter's position and a daytime show.
I never knew the name of the man on the committee who gave me a hard time,was rude,asked me insulting questions, and made me feel like a jibbering upstart, until now. Gravelpounce Whimperstrand,that was his name. I got my show and became a presenter, but it was no thanks to him. Luckily others on the committee knew my previous work and spoke in my favour. I carried the vote and was welcomed aboard,but no congratulations came my way from Him.
We stared at each other for a few minutes,both I suspected unsure of how to proceed. I seized the moment and smiled a sunny hello. He would not reduce me to a tearful shadow of myself ,not ever again.
I sat down and began.
I made my play with a stunning appreciation of the Festival,its shows, its galleries, its theatre,its musical artistes,and concluded with a fine appreciation of the work of its Director. His mouth seemed to have opened even wider.
"How did you begin this year ? I asked. I was still smiling, harder than ever.
He started to speak in slightly surprised tones,but speak he did,and I took abbreviated notes.
Whenever he stopped I rushed in again,giving him no time to think of some malicious remark or overpowering rebuff.
My questions were studded with compliments,and implied the direction of a Master at work in devising the Festival Programme.I explained how much space the Daily Scandal intended to give to this article,photos to be included , especially one half page of himself, and added how important his work had been to the future artistic standing of the Dingley Dell Community. He was glowing. I was lying. But it did not matter. He rambled on about his philosophy and philanthropy, and I kept writing.
Three quarters of an hout later I wound things up. He was about to have a further rant about his vision for the Community, when I politely thanked him and mentioned that I had lots of information and needed some time to write it up for my deadline. He smiled and rose to see me to the door.
Just as I stepped out into the corridor,he looked at me quizzically and said, "Have we met somewhere before ? I seem to remember..........................."
"No," I said crisply."I am sure I would have remembered someone so charming". And I left, smiling all the way down the stairway,past Hetty ,and all the way back to my toadstool home.
I laughed and danced around the house,and flung my notes around our leather settee. Later I would write,but now a cup of acorn decaff was much needed to celebrate my calming of the deadly Whimperstrand. Putty in my pretty elven hand,maybe not. But he didn't get the better of me either. I couldn't wait to report to Portamus that my mission had been successful.
He was out when I called,but I left him a message ; Director duly interviewed, and column ready for editing.
Tomorrow, I am going to have a lovely day out,treat myself to lunch and buy myself some new vestments. After all,you never know when I may have to interview Him again.
Till the morrow,my trusted friends, may all this rain be replaced by a stunning rainbow, and may its colours light up all your lives.
From Amarantha Willow, writer and raconteur, the Rainbow Faery.

We were such a jolly bunch on Sunday at my regular rehearsal with the Theatricals. Remindur was concentrating on improving our skills with some work on breathing techniques and vocal attack on lines. We also had a visitor ,first name Darsecretta,who taught us some helpful exercises to improve our articulation and our singing. It is only recently that I realised singing would be involved. I am not really a singing individual ,having rather a limited vocal range. But I can hold a tune as they say. Not all we elven folk can perform the lyrical tunes of our ancient heritage,so oftimes heard in the whispering of the wind,and in the rolling of the sea. But we have other skills in the area of performance,as rejoicing in the dramatic arts, is indemic to the elven nature.
We laughed a lot together,but were serious in our work. We are becoming quite a tightly knit group as we get to know each other's strengths and needs. We worked together on breathing skills,and I was paired with Chicolitto. He proved to have a strong diaphragm and lungs when we attempted to locate our diaphragmatic equipment in exercise terms.
Pendragon appeared to collect me at four and we wandered off to have a smooth decaff acorn latte and an apricot croissant. We journeyed home on the tram ,and lazed away the rest of our weekend,watching raindrops fall through our Sunroom window. Pendragon cooked a fabulous couscous and vegetable stew,which we shared in a bluster of conversation and laughter. We finished our day with a selection of fine tunes played on our electronic music box ,with me lying in a heap of cushions on our oak wood floor,while Pendragon lay beside me giggling and singing,and being the attentive paramour.

My betrothal dress is coming on apace.I know all betrothal dresses are special, but this one is going to be really beautiful. It is dark red,with a brocade bodice with jewelled and embroidered effect. The neckline is high in keeping with my long neck,and the full skirt has several layers of differently weighted materials. I shall feel like a queen,or at the very least, Pendragon's princess.

Today I went racing about,with my Dingley Dell Radio Show this afternoon and my business deliveries in the morning. I had some local purchases which I was able to take to the door,thereby saving some postage. This is unusual as my sales are usually much further afield.
I have also spent some time considering my interview for Wednesday with the formidable Gravelpounce Whimperstrand. I am not confident of it going either well or to plan. In my mind as he becomes more awkward I seem to visualise him getting bigger in size as well. I am sure by Wednesday he will have assumed gargantuan proportions. Hopefully the real thing will seem much diminished when I see him.
I am determined to be as professional as I can ,and not let his manner get to me.

Pendragon has just phoned me to say that he will be late tonight. He has an executive hospital meeting which may go on till quite late,and it is possible he may have to stay over in Metropolis till tomorrow. That will give me lots of time to do some housework and press some vestments,and ensure the toadstool is at its shiniest for his return tomorrow night. He also has to work away from home on Wednesday night,so this week the toadstool should be gleaming. I always do housework when he is away.I don't know why.But I am sure Pendragon is grateful to see the untidy corners disappear and my parchment business remove itself back into my Blue Room Office.

I also have some letters to write. I have a card for Piccallilli to wish her well back at work. And some friends who stay further afield have written to set up a dinner date with myself and Pendragon, sometime in September.
We have several theatre dates to fulfil before then,so we are in for a busy time. Generally I feel that there are exciting days ahead,as there seem to be lots of things to be involved with right now. The theatre,our betrothal plans, my business, my leisure activities, our life together. Life is good and must be enjoyed to the full.
Colder days will soon be upon us,so we must grab the sunshine when we can.There has not been too much of that lately,so I wear light vestments but remember to carry the weatherproof overclothes I am almost certain to need on an afternoon or evening out. Little woollen gloves have suddenly appeared in my shopping bag,along with a soft purple scarf, ready for the chills and plouts.

Till the morrow,my friends and readers, may your thoughts be of the good times ahead and may your deeds bring health and wealth to all your households.
From Amarantha Willow,the busiest person in Dingley Dell, the Rainbow Faery.

Pendragon has been working away from home for the past two days. Sometimes his work takes him to the far flung outposts of civilized elven life,as he is a senior consultant in his role as Healer . There are troubled souls everywhere it would seem, and everyone wants my Pendragon to do something about their particular woes. He keeps in touch with me all the time on the woodland phone but I do miss his wonderful smile and loving ways when he is away.
I keep busy,as there is always something to do either in my business life or around our toadstool home.
I am cataloguing at the moment,as I have almost 400 used parchments for sale. It is important to know what you have for sale ,to have them in some order,and with relevant details recorded,so that you can cope with enquiries.
Everything is beautifully organised in the office upstairs and for the moment I am managing to keep it that way.
I spent some time this morning in Tinymidmunching, scouting for saleable used parchments. There were three possible merchants' stores to browse in ,although only one really provided the quantity or quality I was searching for. But by the time I had finished I left the store with 12 good pieces of work, all likely to double their money at least, once for sale on the open market.

I wanted very much to spend some time in the garden today,but the weather was poor. Strangley warm,but with a good wind blowing,and with the promise of frequent squally showers. There are jobs piling up and begging to be done. As I was walking up the path on returning to the toadstool,it occurred to me that I had not seen much of Bob the Bee recently. Little fat Bob has been in our garden every day of the summer this year,flying by on his way to some pollen infested blossom, usually in our front garden.
He has gotten fatter and fatter by the day,and looked magnificent in his natural black and yellow sweater last week when I saw him. But I have not seen him since last Friday . I hope he is ok. Summer is fading and I fear Bob may have had the best of his all too short life in the sun. He has given us much pleasure just in watching him fly by,and I hope we have added to the quality of his existence with some magnificent blooms from which to extract his nourishment.
I love watching the birds as well,as you know, but sometimes their behaviour does dumbfound me. Every morning around ten the local group of itinerant starlings descends upon our fat treats. Not one at a time,but in a group of about a dozen. They swoop and dive,bump into each other,jump on to each other,peck and attack ,all to get their unequal share of what's on offer. They are greedy and selfish in their modus operandi. I cannot understand why they come down together,when it is obvious that they can't all eat at the fat balls at the same time. You would think they could work out some kind of rota system ,to ensure everyone of them gets a square go at the food supply. But starlings are not endowed with finer grey matter,so they go through the same pointless,noisy ritual every day,grabbing and grasping and fighting it out,in such an unseemly manner. None of the tinier birds come down till later,clearly avoiding the melee.

I had my second meeting at the Daily Scandal this afternoon. My team were there,bright and cheerful ,and not the least bit upset by the rudeness of Gravelpounce Whimperstrand. They were all hugely sympathetic,but all had met him at some point before,and could confirm his unpleasant personality. Cub reporter Smurpo Weirdwater had had a run- in with him at a Dingley Dell Festival Meeting, and Trilloaka Bint had endured complaints from him on several occasions for having taken shots of him "in a bad light ".

"He is fussy about his hair",she said. "He doesn't like you to take photos of his bouffant without his hairdresser present. And I am sure he wears a fake sun tan lotion,as no one could be that nasty orange colour without having a terrible disease. " She giggled heartily,and the others joined in .
Squeeble the page designer added " He's always in the paper for some reason. Some good works or other. But what folk don't know is that he does it all to make himself look good. He isn't nice to his Staff, and his family- well, we'll just have to wonder about that. "
They were all trying to help,trying to give me as much information as they could, but little did they know,it was only serving to make me more insecure about my interview. I had re-sceduled for next Wednesday at two ,and I was looking forward to it even less than before.
Dubisthmus ,my sub editor saw my face as Squeeble finished,and hastily moved the conversation to what we had ready for next week. Photos of Zecturo,the flautist, the Dingley Dell finale concert, reviews of some new parchments, a local restaurant, and Amarantha's take on Festival Week. . My interview with Gravelpounce would complete the first page of my new column. It had to go well,and it now needed some thought as to how I would approach the world's most unpleasant benefactor.

As we packed up after our discussion, Dubisthmus approached me with a few timely words.

"Don't worry," he said, You'll be fine. Be aware of how he is, but remember, he wants publicity, and you are his means to get it. He won't want to annoy you,it's a good write-up he wants. He may appear churlish,even unhelpful , but he will make sure you get an article showing what a great guy he is. And it's an article you need. You don't have to like him".

I thanked Dubisthmus. He was right . Just do my job. I could see that Dubisthmus would do much to help me in my pathway to being a successful columnist. I had much to learn, and I knew how to listen. And he had much to teach.

Tomorrow Pendragon and I are meeting in Metropolis, to buy some new vestments, and pay a fresh visit to the Faery Seamstress for a fitting of my Betrothal Gown. Pendragon will wait for me while I endure much prodding and jostling. He cannot see my dress till Betrothal Day,so will drink copious cups of acorn coffee in a nearby vegetarian bistro.
On Sunday more theatrical playmaking,and a chance for Pendragon and I to spend some much wanted time together.We are at our happiest when we are together,exploring our new life as a couple.
So tonight, I will work for an hour or two longer, till the lavender candle melts to a puddle,and then to bed,my acorn tea in hand ,and my favourite picture of Pendragon by my side. I will sleep well.

Much sound sleep to you too ,my friends, my wondrous cast of redoubtables,and may it bring dreams of a new dawn with fame and good fortune at its centre.
From Amarantha Willow, toast of Dingley Dell, and the Belle of Lobelia Drive, the Rainbow Faery.

My appointment with Gravelpounce Whimperstrand,the Director of the Dingley Dell Festival was to have been this afternoon. A call from his office at the eleventh hour (twenty minutes before I was due to be there),gave little by way of an apology,save a plea to me to understand how stressful his work was at the moment,and to beg for a work free afternoon today. I was gracious,if terrifically annoyed,and made sure his assistant pencilled me in for next week ,same time.
I telephoned Portamus to let him know the appointment had been postponed. He was not best pleased, but thanked me for my initiative in the matter. He is an old committee partner of Gravelpounce , and had no doubt called in the interview as a favour. A few expletives rippled down the woodland telephone towards me (not at me), and I audibly heard Portamus say "wait till I see him". Not a great start for my new post,but I remain positive that small problems will sort themselves out.

I occupied the rest of the day with laundry,cleaning and betrothal matters, so it passed comfortably ,quietly and slightly excitedly.
It was nice to have a quiet day,to catch up with chores,and just smell the breeze. I managed a walk round the flower beds to check on the weed population,and my Backyard Boys. The rain of the past few days has made my Boys look rather grubby,so a quick brush and wash-up was in order. Mandolini looked pleased to see me and to have his valeting done, but the other three eyed me gingerly as I approached, hose in hand. They looked so much better when I had finished,that I hope they saw the worth of my endeavours. I checked the bird trays, and bird bath,and left them sparkling. New fat balls and peanuts will surely attract a spate of bird life for miles around.
I am making Pendragon's favourite vegetarian goatherd pie for tea tonight.No goatherds in it ,as you will understand,but brimming with carrots, peas, soya mince,and parsnips . He loves it, his cradle food he calls it,and it is sure to warm him up on this colder summer night. I feel Autumn days are pushing to get through,and although a little sunshine showed for an hour today,it is basically greyer than it was. My front plant pots are losing their bloom, with my annual plants now past their best.
I bought lots of autumn and winter bulbs yesterday at the Jolly Woodman,and am now looking out for winter pansies and any dwarf shrubs which will survuve the frost when it comes.

I wrote some letters to friends this afternoon, and a well-wishing card to Piccallilli who returns to work next week. Yes, school summer holidays are almost over , in Dingley Dell at least, and Piccallilli will be already looking out her school outfits,and swilling out her lunch box.
I miss her camaraderie in my daily life,if not the work itself. October will bring my first anniversary as an escapee from teaching. I have used the time well and am currently pleased with my progress so far. There is still much to do, and more new paths to follow,but I have opened doors,leading to a new course in life.

Tomorrow, my friends, I journey to another new haunt in my search for used parchments, and may visit Brigantia for further garden supplies. I am also going to my former toadstool in Brigantia to pick some apples from my apple tree.
Pies will abound,my true and quirky friends,and Pendragon will be even more mellow with such an onslaught on his already sweet tooth.
Love and crumble to you all,from Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

Monday has been rather quiet and restrained,following a few days of whirlwind activity,abundant leisure and special outings.
We really enjoyed our weekend in Metropolis. I duly arrived at the theatre for my audition at one ,had to hang around for twenty minutes while director and assistant director set their studio up ,and was a small bag of heightened nerves when I eventually was called in. Both deciders of my dramatic fate were seated at a long table ,with scripts and notebooks at the ready ,and a seat was set out for the intrepid auditionee, which at that moment,was me. I was really more nervous than I have been for a long time in that situation,and did try to keep a handle on my feelings,but I knew my confidence deep down was not high. They asked me lots of questions,after the first introductions were made. I had not met the Great Director before,but he came across to me as a pleasant,thoughtful man,who would listen a lot,and only say what he felt needed to be said.
Questions over,I was asked if I would like to do my audition piece. I took my stance and began with great gusto,only to blank on the words after two lines. I felt embarrassed,but they were very nice and bade me begin again. This time I got to the end but I felt I had had finer moments. However ,they were complimentary,and thanked me for my efforts. I now have to wait for their final decisions along with all my other comrades from the Theatricals. We all met up on Sunday again,for our regular workshop,and their stories seemed to match my own. "Didn't go very well",and "could have done better" seemed to be the order of the day. However, my hopes remain high,and certainly no one could be keener than I.
Pendragon and I celebrated a little on Saturday evening with a fine dinner at Le Bon Viveur,before going to see an opera by Terpsichorda called The Three Spinsters. It was a jolly piece,and none too serious,full of joyful singing,and choral interpretations. We walked home through the brightly lit streets of Metropolis ,remembering other fond times and loving strolls together. I slept soundly,till Pendragon woke me at nine. (He has no cuckoo in his clock)
We went for breakfast in a local cafe,and walked down to the theatre again,where I would spend another happy afternoon improvising and learning character work.
Both Saturday and Sunday were marked by sheets of rain endlessly falling between short bursts of sunshine overhead. We did not let it interfere with our pursuit of pleasure in this happiest of cities.
On Sunday evening we returned home to our toadstool ,to find several used parchment orders banking up on the electronic mail box. I busied myself with the administration and wrapping of these ,while Pendragon delivered a supper of perfection.
Today has been a working day,with phone calls to delay me, and parchment orders to spur me on. I spent part of my self imposed lunch break reflecting on my meeting with Cumberpatch on Friday.
It was in the final analysis a useful discussion and meeting of minds,but it started rather badly with Portamus keeping us all waiting some thirty minutes after our official meeting time. I was punctual at two,and rather frostily ushered into the editorial room by Portamus's secretary. She doesn't like me ,and for the life of me, I really don't know why. I have a feeling she doesn't really like anyone that Portamus likes,and sees anyone in his favour as some threat to her elevated position with him. She is a spikey woman.Everything about her is sharp,from her piercing voice to the tip of her aardvark nose, and the pinched corners of her lips. I doubt if I have seen her smile.If she has,it has been so fleeting that I have missed it,rather like the life of the average mayfly. She was attempting some convivialty on Friday,by dispersing coffee from a large pot to all the writers present, but her small talk was confined to the occasional grunt as she offered milk and a timely "how many lumps",as she dumped a single cube into cups as they passed. So coffee was drunk,and silence reigned as we waited for the arrival of the great man. This gave me some time to get my bearings and the measure of others invited to attend.

Portamus's sub-editor, Dubisthmus,was sitting next to Squeeble the page designer,and across from me,was Trilloaka Bint,head photographer,and lastly ,cub reporter Smurpo Weirdwater, a bright eyed boggart lad,eager to push back the frontiers of frontline journalism,as long as it can be done from the back of his two wheeled motor cycle. No one spoke. We all stared off somewhere into the distance,rather than be the first to open civil relations.
Eventually I could bear the atmosphere no longer and I said as boldly as I could "I'm Amarantha".
They all stared and I think Squeeble let out a nervous cough in reply. I wasn't going to be daunted though,so I just kept going.
"I'm Amarantha Willow, and it's so nice to meet all of you."
Smurpo looked at the others and decided a little ground breaking interaction was just what he needed.
He started to tell me about his job,and how much he was looking forward to helping with my column. Within minutes we were all chatting and sharing our views on the way ahead.
Still no Portamus. We were well into talking about photographs,possible interviews, headlines and underlines,when the door handle turned and the mighty Portamus Cumberpatch lumbered in. Once again silence reigned,and we all stared in his direction.
He blundered in,took off his great coat,flung it in the direction of the coat hook,(it missed) and with a big sigh,lowered his heavy frame into his large walnut chair.
"Traffic" he said, "Held up at the lights". We assumed that was his apology,and waited for him to begin.
Well, begin he did with a full explanation of how he saw my column developing,with interviews, listings of events, social comments, gossip, photographs,community commwntary, reviews,all wildly exciting.
He wanted a team approach ,with everyone in the room working together, under my byline. I was amazed,and thrilled. He outlined how he saw us working together,then said "That's all then,I'll let you get on with it." And off he went ,leaving his chair rocking and us open mouthed.
But not for long. We had a good discussion and plans for the following week were formed .We would meet again on Friday with all our individual bits and pieces ,hopefully enough to put together the first
Amarantha's World, to be published on Friday the 22nd.
So there is much for me to do this week .An interview has been set up for me with the Director of the Dingley Dell Festival and I need to carry out a review of the concert of the local flautist, Zecturo
Hornshimmer,in town and flagging up his new platter, "Moods of the Golden Morn".
Apart from that I will just keep my ear to the ground for any talk of skulduggery and impropriety in public office. That should shake a few new readers out of the woodwork.

And now to bed-tomorrow takes me to Brigantia 's parchment shops and markets,plus a walk in my favourite park and a lunch in town.
For the hundredth time I wish you all well ,my dear friends,and I hope to a hundred times more and beyond. Sleep well,and let the new morn bring you cherished times.
From Amarantha Willow, Team leader and Arch organiser,the Belle of Lobelia Drive,the Rainbow Faery.

Early to bed and early to rise,makes an elf healthy, wealthy and wise- so the old saying goes. Reluctantly I shall have to follow this adage this evening,and have a relatively early night. I need to leave for Metropolis early as my audition is at ten, and there is still much to do.
I am sorry about this as there is so much to tell you all,but I would be writing until past midnight if I started a great tome to you now.So my plan is to make this missive short and sweet,and celebrate one hundred postings to you on Sunday when I return ,with a very special toadstool tales 100.
Then I can enlighten you as to the machiavellian events of the afternoon,and the strange but true , further eccentriciities of behaviour from across the hedge at number 6.

Further tales of my city ploys at the theatre,our evening at the opera and my take on the Dingley Dell Fair, will no doubt leave you breathless and enthralled.

So buckle down to a couple of days free from employment strife, play out in the open air whenever it is fine, and stay tuned to this elven epistle for the next instalments.

Much love to you all,my gladsome well-wishers, from your creative muse,Amarantha, the Willow wild child, the Rainbow Faery.

The Primpoles at number six really are the strangest couple to be living next door to. I sped back from my appointment with the Faery Physio,tackled an hour's top-up shopping at the Supermercantile and couldn't wait to get home to my toadstool haven due to the constant deluge of rain. Flood warnings were being given on the electronic picture box and the listening machine,folk were being told to stay indoors to avoid problems, and everywhere the weather was keeping regular activities to a minimum.
But what were the Primpoles doing ?
Well, I have no idea where Severity was, but Weedy was in the front garden with his high power washer (in the height of the precipitation) giving his front path and our mutual hedge,big licks.
I sailed up to our gate,and could not believe what I was seeing.
They had also dislodged their four-wheeled motor toadstool from its usual moorings by the motor carriage holders,and plonked it in front of our gate. For the past four days they have been preparing their mobile toadstool for something. Pulling stuff out,putting stuff in, polishing the windows, cleaning the metal fittings, and yet showing no sign of actually going anywhere.
Today,may be the day.
Once inside, I could not help but be glued to the front window so eccentric was his progress. Weedy got fed up after half an hour and turned his power hose on the mobile toadstool ,splashing it and everything in sight with gallons of valuable aquatic resource. It is an absolute wonder that our fence is still standing after this mighty soaking. The machine made such a noise,between a grunt and a roar that I feared if I made any move to go into the front garden, I might be sucked up with the soapy suds. He was like a small sprite with a new water pistol. And we all know how dangerous they can be if they find a moving target.
I doubt if Pendragon is going to be too pleased,as Weedy has unknowingly pushed all the dirt,and grime and rotting vegetation which was lying under the hedge, through to our side. It has dispersed itself to various vantage points on our lawn.Penders will not be thrilled to see that the space which he spends time every weekend clearing up ,is now littered with composting waste.
Weedy has stopped for the moment ,and left his power tool on the path. The shrill call of Severity from inside number six,caused a fast action response,and he beetled indoors to do her biddding. Whether he will resume his devastation remains unclear, but I just hope Pendragon does not arrive home while he is power washing,or he may either be swept down to the next street or disappear altogether in a tidal wave of lavender scented foam.(even from inside our stately toadstool ,my nostril detectors are very keen. )

This is a situation which must be monitored over the next few hours. If I spot Pendragon leaving the tram,from my back window,I need to run at top speed to the Backyard gate,and drag him inside from there.He will either think I am in a state of high emergency, or that my desire for him has risen to new levels . I will have to let him down gently on both counts, at least till after supper.

I am going to spend some time tonight packing for the weekend,and going over my notes for my meeting with Portamus tomorrow. I have jotted down ideas for interviews and for topics for my new weekly column.
I have managed already to pick up a few bits of gossip from my trips down to the village,,and they are juicy enough to make Portamus's elven ears waggle. I have also gathered information about some forthcoming local events,and noted some key contacts for them. I hope Portamus will feel I am making a very professional stab at the job. My column will only be once per week,but will be full page ,and receive pre-advertising throughout the week.I have even heard some talk that I am to be given an assistant. I hope this is more than a rumour,as working as part of a small team could be very rewarding.
I may need to keep this rumour going myself,until I am sure it has reached Portamus's hearing,and then act surprised if he raises it.

Saturday's audition is looming large. I am ready,I know my lines,so I hope my nerve will hold. I really want to do my best. The relevant outfit has not become clear yet, but I will spend some time on it tomorrow. And then ,my success will just be down to how well I perform. And a few crossed fingers,and touching of wood. We will hopefully be celebrating later, with our visit to the opera, and a Mediterranean beanfeast.

Wish me luck tomorrow, my well-meaning pals, and I shall surely win through.
Wish me luck for Saturday too and I shall surely be blessed twice over.
Wishing you blue skies and rainbows tomorrow,as this would be a gift I would truly love to bestow.
From Amarantha Willow,friend to the stars, and Diva in the making, your very own Rainbow Faery.

Precipitation has dominated the day today. I kept busy in the morning with letters to absent friends, learning my audition lines,and cataloguing my new used parchments. A useful day ,you might say, but I was just longing to see the sun,and to have the opportunity to go out and have adventures. Everything outside looked so wet and I knew I would return home instantly if I even dared to poke my nose beyond our white toadstool door. This does mean I will have to do more on my travels tomorrow,as Friday and the weekend are pretty much spoken for.
My outing with Luvaboo Dreadminch and Piccallilli Peasegood was also cancelled. Luvaboo called on the dot at ten to say she had an agonising sniffle,and "could not bear to leave her bed", and Piccallilli was not far behind telling me her woes,and claiming family crisis. In Piccallilli's case I know this to be true,as her daughter is giving all of them some grief as they prepare for her betrothal. Piccers seemed down,in a way she is never down,so I trowelled on the sympathy and promised to call her before the end of the School Summer break. As for Luvaboo,she will have to make me a pretty special offer if I am to join her for a cream tea any day soon. She loves to wallow,and I am no lumbering hippo.
So here I have been for most of the day,drowning my sorrows with endless cups of peppermint and nettle tea,and wishing for something lovely to capture my day.
A call from Pendragon at half past two was full of affectionate banter,and his wish that my day was going well,and I wasn't letting the weather get me down. I immediately felt guilty,and made up my mind to pull my shabby self together ,and at least get out for a walk in the rain.
I wasn't going to get dressed up,so I just donned my ample red overcape,pulled on my stout walking shoes,grabbed the letters for posting and headed off down the long road to the nearest Dingley Dell Mail Slot. I tied my hood tightly about my ears so that no speck of rain would dribble onto my ears or coiffured hair. I huddled in my overcape,but strode out strongly to meet the afternoon. Only a few elven folk were out struggling with the elements,and they all seemed to be rushing in the other direction- namely. home.
There was a fresh wind starting to blow,and I wished that I had put on another gossamer woolly ,maybe even a scarf and gloves, to keep my elven bones from chilling. The elements were definitely blowing against me as I trudged on in indomitable fashion,determined to catch the postal slot before four,and maybe grab a cuppa somewhere warmer. At the Postal Slot ,Scamp the Postal Imp, was just opening up to collect the stored letters and packets to take to the Collections Office. He smiled as he took my small bundle.and wished me the compliments of the day ,before hoisting the heavy sack on to his shoulder and heading off to have them stamped and distributed. I stood by the postal slot,weighing up my options. The nearest cafe was still some distance away,and the wet was getting wetter. Was it worthwhile slogging on ,just to sit in a warm bistro in my increasingly soaking clothes ? I could feel the wetness seeping through to my cardi,as my overcape was an ancient waterproof and losing its effectiveness. Drips were dripping from my uncovered extremities - my nose ,my fingers, and the tip of my chin. I had little time to make up my mind ,as the heavens opened further,and a deluge threatened to wash me all the way down the road to the Big Water. I turned on my heel and headed back up the hill , moving as fast as my tiny size threes would take me. At least the wind was blowing in the same direction,so I only had to fight my way through one element all the way back. I reached the gate of our lovely toadstool ,and could not wait to turn the key and get inside. I had no time to amble by the peonies,or petunia baskets,no time to chat to the Flower People or the simpering Ariadne, or practical Gerania- no,all I was aware of was my squelching feet in rain drenched shoes and the cold chill on my inner clothes.
I stopped in the hallway and drew breath. I slipped off my shoes,dragged off my overcape,cast my other vestments to the four winds and raced upstairs to smother my tiny frame in my cosy winter dressing gown. It was so good to be home. I would have a hot bath,I decided,and a cup of tea,and put a log or two on the log fire. As I warmed up,I felt no regrets at my rainy outing,in fact I was very pleased with myself for taking the plunge. I was a bit cold,even a bit sniffly ,but inside,elated by the freshness of the day,and the challenge of my journey, I felt renewed. I'll just settle for watching the trees blow and the drips dropping on my garden furniture till Pendragon calls "honey ,'I'm home", and brings his sodden brolly into our hallway at seven.
I'm cooking a mushroom fricasee and rice meal for supper with fresh bread croutons.
Wherever you are today,my fine and worthy companions, I hope you have remembered to carry your galoshes and windscreen wipers for your face furniture. A tot of something hot is surely awaiting you as you return from your daily toil.
Till the morrow, make haste and make sure all your anti flood measures are in place. For more rain is sure to fall.
From the redoubtable Amarantha, Lobelia Drive's own weather girl,the Rainbow Faery.

Well,it's been a bit of a whirlwind day,as I've raced around finding new pastures for grabbing used parchment bargains. It was a successful trip though,as there was much available in the mercantiles of Columnestra and neighbouring Ludillanka,just four miles from the streets of Brigantia. Both are somewhat run down as small towns go,but flourishing in terms of Charity shops and second hand businesses. This is perfect territory for me to find used parchments,hopefully in the best of order. I eventually returned with twenty of the finest which will hopefully bring fair profit. I stopped for lunch at a Neapolitan bistro,where their minestrone soup was full bodied and packed with wholemeal goodness. I returned to the toadstool by two of the afternoon,in good time to avoid the gathering wind outside. I had admin. work to do ,and letters to write, so I busied myself at my electronic box for a while,between cups of peppermint tea.
I wandered down to the Mail Slot, to send off a few orders,and have a wander down the High Street to view the Festival decorations. It is Dingley Dell Fair Week,and the orange and green bunting hangs high all the way along the highway. Individual pennants describing various historical elements of Dingley Dell add to the festive look. There were dozens of visitors passing up and down, visiting the Museum and walking around the Town House. Green Dingley Dell has filled every high street pot with petunias,lobelia and marigolds.So the old town looks so beautiful today. The local tram service was dropping people off every twenty minutes so crowds were beginning to gather by the harbour. I would have stopped at the Buttercup Bistro for a cup of acorn coffee,but it was full to the brim with holidaymakers,even at the outside tables.As I peeped through the door on the offchance of an empty seat, the Boggart boy saw me ,and he grinned and waved. I hurried out. I definitely didn't want to hang around if the Boggart boy,with his puppy dog boggart eyes,was likely to pester the life out of me with his unwelcome attentions.

"Maybe he has a Mother Complex" said Pendragon when I voiced my angst about this teenage crush.The cushion which bounced off his right ear well expressed my feelings about being called somebody's mother.
Pendragon may exert his psychoanalytical powers on others,but he is sure to fare badly if he tries it out on me.
I don't really mind the boggart boy having the crush. Maybe it is very flattering that an elven woman of middle years can still sound an attractive note for a young man. But I just don't want to know about it,and I definitely don't want him to do anything about it. Keep it to himself,that 's what I want.
So I walked back up the hill without my afternoon coffee ,fending off the windy day,and planning our evening meal in my head.
I have much to organise this week. My meeting with Portamus Cumberpatch ,editor of the Daily Scandal, happens on Friday afternoon. On Thursday I visit my physio to discuss how well I am managing with my tendonitic hand. I also need to find some small but special red buttons for my betrothal gown. And tomorrow, I am meeting an old friend, Luvaboo Dreadminch,with Piccallilli also in tow, at the Jolly Woodman. I admit to having some foreboding about this outing.
Luvaboo has had some difficult marital times lately and ,I know , will just want to talk .(even cry)
She is not really a kindred spirit with the effervescent Piccallilli Peasegood, who chases any semblance of gloom before she starts. Luvaboo sadly invented gloom,so she is going to be hard work. I will be sitting in the middle between Luvaboo's woeful outpourings and Piccallilli's constant "just pick yourself up and move on" approach. I hope the food is good,as we will need something we agree on,and something that they can shut up for.
Pendragon finds my choice of companion rather strange, and often suggests to me that maybe with my new life ,I may be outgrowing some of these odd personalities. But they all belong in my life somewhere,they helped to form me and I am not just going to abandon folk because they may have some singularly peculiar traits. I'll manage,as they say.
I am still looking through possible bits of apparel to wear for my audition on Saturday. I have found a possible top and skirt,but I may go shopping in Brigantia on Thursday morning to find something new and special. Sommething with that feelgood factor.
I am stuffing peppers tonight with couscous and assorted vegetables. This is one of Pendragon's favourite mid-week munchables. He found my fajitas at the weekend simple "divine",and raves regularly about my cashew nut roasts. How wonderful to be so appreciated by such a fine fellow.
We are theatre-going in Metropolis on Saturday after my audition, with a fine pre-theatre meal at our favourite restaurant,Le Bon Viveur.
I intend to dress up as it is a first performane,and may look out my best little black number for the occasion.
Fun and games,my merry friends, are a necessary part of all our lives. Something to look forward to,something to dream about, something with which to perk up the mundane days of work.
I hope you have a theatre seat or two booked for a future evening of pleasure.
Till the morrow,take rest and take heart, life is for living.
From Amarantha Willow,actress and painter, writer and dancer, washerwoman and hoover maid, the Rainbow Faery.

Sunday. After tea.

Remindur Toastyspur,our assistant director and mentor, is late in arriving every Sunday. It was only five minutes to begin with,but today we were still languishing in the rehearsal rooms at 30 minutes past one o'clock. Pendragon had already kissed me sumptuously on the lips five times and left to pursue his own interests for the afternoon before Remindur appeared ,in cut off hose and a loose blouson, hailing us all with a cheery "hello".
I smiled back but my eyes signalled a little disapproval. I dare say I was not the only one. Anyway we went through a physical warm -up to bring back the mood of theatrical industry,and then worked for a further hour on characterisation. I love this kind of work,so threw myself in to the task we were given. We had a group size of five ,and had to create a scenario,where we had to undertake a task together. Each person had a role to play in completing the task,and we had to have a finishing goal for the task we undertook.
Chicolitto was in my group,so I knew we would have some problems devising our scenario.He tends to go off at a tangent,and although his ideas are full of colour ,they are not always fully possible in the time we have. Jonquil was also in my group,with Jarvus and Klava. We devised an intriguing scenario with a bit of perseverance and effort,and had some fun putting it into practise.Remindur always seems pleased to see my work. He gave us an interesting and full critique,but there were no negative strands to it,so it would be fair to say he liked our piece. Before we finished he reminded us that auditions would happen on Saturday next,to get ouselves prepared,book an appointment,and take our chances.
Well, so be it. I am almost ready with my set piece,and I dare say I will drive Pendragon mad this week with my repetitions of some 24 lines.I am very keen to acquire a speaking role,one to challenge my skills and sharpen my dramatic sensibilities. To this end I have chosen a set piece with lots of light and shade.I intend to surprise Remindur by dressing as the character too when I deliver my lines. Black buttoned up tight cardi, long black ankle length skirt,hair tied tightly back in a strait-laced bun,and tiny heeled sensible slipperettes. I should definitely look the part of the introverted school marm.

Monday. After lunch.

At home I am really enjoying my new washing line,recently set up by our Antipodean handygoblin. It works so well,and there are no more wet vestments hanging around the toadstool. I watch several times per day to see if the passing breeze is catching our fine things ,and go outside to check their dryness several times in the morning. I just love the smell of newly dried washing.
It is amazing how simple things like the gentle whiff of fabric softener can comfort the soul and perk up the day.
Now that my artistic escapades are over for a few days, I can settle down to checking the status of my nearest neighbours. I am so out of touch with their recent ploys,and need to get my information banks back up to full power.
Several matters seem to be afoot.

The Primpoles' four wheeled motor toadstool had its small door flung open when I returned today from the supermercantile. Merry sounds of folk songs were coming from within plus less welcome banging,shifting and rattling sounds. I hung around for a few minutes as I locked my motor carriage door,but no one emerged. They may be just summer cleaning,or planning another break away ,but I shall find out which before too long. We seem to have begun a few days of riotous sunshine, so maybe they are heading for a country exploration. I shall have to keep my eyes peeled to notice what they are packing. At least it will mean a break from the ever-present barking of their wildebeests .
Weedy cut the beech hedge last week while I was tidying in the front gsrden. He passed me a few cheery grunts as he laboured,and every time he grunted I could hear the evil black beast pacing up and down their pathway, growling all the while. He was watching me through the hedge,so I stared hard back at him,daring him to make his attack. Such bravado is only a measure of the huge beech hedge between. If I pass their gateway, I shall no doubt move at my usual top speed,not giving him time to notice he has missed out on another victim. Let us hope the Primpoles' holiday is long and takes them very far away.
I saw Ariadne Dagwort out this afternoon too,worrying something by their "newly fixed" fence. She seemed to be examining the hanging lilac branches behind the fence. For ten minutes she pulled and dragged them forward till there was only hanging lilac where the "hole " used to be. Trying to help her mother Mimsey no doubt, help her cover her tracks after the sudden "fixing" of the fence. Sticking together,whatever the weather,is what it's called in white witch territory.

This afternoon found me working in a very warm studio at Dingley Dell Community Network. All the windows were flung open to attract some air into our working space. Passers -by were stopping to peer into the studio,or reception area to enjoy the music playing ,or maybe just to satisfy their elven curiosity about radio stations.
I chose lots of summer elven sounds,to remind my listeners of heady summer moments,lost loves and childhood days in summer fields or wild wet woods. My visitor today was Daedalus Cinquefoil ,my art teacher and painter to the rich and wealthy. He had seemed keen when I had invited him during my art tuition week,and indeed today seemed pleased to endure my simplistic questions,and offer his general viewpoint on creative matters. He took the opportunity to advertise his September workshops,and between conversations,I noted he had pulled out his sketch book. It was only after I had thanked him,and signed off my show for another week,that he produced the sketch of myself at the studio desk ,speaking in to the microphone,and looking very happy to be there. I was thrilled ,as Daedalus only evers works on commissions,and expensively at that. This was his way of saying thank you for my giving him air time,and he had signed it too,making it clearly his work,and adding to its intrinsic value.
Pendragon wants to take it with him tomorrow to Metropolis ,to have it framed. Fancy that ! Drawn by Daedalus Cinquefoil, my image forever recorded for posterity.

Tomorrow I go used parchment hunting in Brigantia. I have found some new outlets,and need to explore their possibilities. Hopefully the sun will shine on my endeavours. I also hope to pop in to an art workshop recommended to me by one of my colleagues on my art course.They offer new techniques for etching and print reproduction,and I'd like to add these skills to my repertoire.
I feel the summer days are going in quickly,and that autumn is only around the corner. Apples are forming slowly on my apple tree. Horse chestnuts have been found lying on the path leading to the tram. There are berries flourishing on the Primpoles' rowan tree. And we saw wild cherries on our Sunday evening walk,growing by the roadside.

Be thinking now, my dear and trusted friends, of autumn woolies,and warm winter socks. Just somewhere at the back of your minds,not enough to send you rushing to fish them out. But remember, in September,you won't want to discover a drawer of single socks or a gossamer jumper with holey sleeves. So keep your eyes open for new mercantile shopping trends and bargains from last year.

From Amarantha, Pendragon Willow's girl, and all at number five Lobelia Drive, the fifth toadstool from the left.
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I was on a parchment search today,firstly in Brigantia,then on my home turf of Dingley Dell. I found eleven suitable for my business,so was well pleased. My last port of call was the Ladies of Mercy Charity Shop where I frequently find good bargains. I found two good examples of ancient texts there and headed to the counter to pay. The shop was so busy with folk bringing in stuff to sell,and folk queueing to buy purchases, so I took my place at the end of the line. The Ladies of Mercy seem to be getting older by the minute. Two of the oldest elven ladies on the team were in charge today,so things were moving but slowly. When Dilly Lightbell wrapped something up and went to the till,in the meantime, Old Polly Chink peered in the bag and took it out again. And vice versa. Two steps forward and fifteen back,you could say. Customers were stepping in and sorting them out,with a smile. When my turn came, I smiled a lot ,encouraging one or both to shape up and do it right. They are a merry twosome , Dilly and Polly,and no matter what their shenanigans,their industry is to be applauded. Dilly,in her pink lacy sweater and blue tweed skirt looks the picture of efficiency and management aplomb. Looks being the figurative word there. She manages till she has to do something,and then she seems to forget what it was she came to do.Old Polly likes to believe she is keeping Dilly right, but goes off at a tangent,invariably in a completely different direction. They are fun,the two of them, and so delicate you almost fear a puff of wind will catch them and blow them clean away. Paper thin fingers, plaster coloured skin, tightly coiled salt and pepper curls,and spindle shaped legs - these are the tools of the average Lady of Mercy.

I had to finish the afternoon with a cup of frothy coffee,so i headed for the Buttercup Bistro.It is the cafe I frequent the most in Dingley Dell,as their soup concoctions surpass all others.
The braised lettuce and chard combo today looked especially inviting. The boggart boy served me.He always rushes to serve me.Today his haste almost caused a clash between the washing up elf and the sandwich spreading gnome. He apologised to them,to me and flushed to the roots of his already red hair.
I smiled benevolently and ordered a big bowl and a pot of tea. I wandered over to find a seat where I could read my magazine ,and enjoy my lunch. But it was difficult with a pair of sharp black eyes peering down at the back of my neck. I did not look up or over. I knew who it was. The boggart boy seemed to be carrying quite a torch which I was finding it hard to put out. I had noticed him looking before,but put it down to my having a speck of gardening dirt somewhere on my person. Today he was not holding back. I looked up just to check. His big toothy grin smiled in my direction. I stifled any attempt to grin back and replaced it with my most stern countenance. I looked down again and kept my glance glued to the paper. When he appeared at my side to bring my lunch I still did not look up,but mumbled a quick and abrupt thank you. Clipped. Short. Terse in every way. He lingered longer than he needed to,arranging my plates on the table . I still did not look up. Eventually he gave up trying to attract my attention and lumbered off. He had gone but now I could not settle. He might come back. He might start more smiling. He might start throwing things to attract my attention. My overactive imagination was forcing me to shovel spoonfuls of soup in as fast as I could swallow,slurp down my tea and make a hasty exit,so much did his teenage boggart hormones upset my equilibrium. I wanted just to tell him to STOP,but instead ,keeping my head down, I paid for my lunch and head forward,no looking round, I left the building. Outside, I was really annoyed with myself. Why did I leave ? It was my most favourite place apart from the Jolly Woodman. He was just a silly boggart boy,and I was a grown-up sophisticated elven lady. My responses should have been more mature and laid back. Oh,stuff that, I'd just have to find somewhere else to guzzle down my soup.
Back home ,I set to furiously tidying up our toadstool home. So many things seem to be in the wrong place. A mountain of pressed vestments lies in the kitchen; boxes of parchments lie in wait on the stairway to trip you up; our oaken coffee table is sinking under the weight of booklets and magazines; and vegetables lie mouldering on the worktop next to the back door. I need to clean up !!

Pendragon is working in Metropolis tonight . Hopefully he will return tomorrow to find his toadstool haven restored to the sleek palace he likes to remember.
Tomorrow Pendragon and I are visiting friends in Metropolis for dinner. Neapolitan fare ,I think, and lots of it. On Sunday,I spend another afternoon with my Theatrical chums. Happy Days !
Next week I meet with Portamus Cumberpatch to discuss my new job as entertainments/gossip columnist. Some serious work beckons. One of my first jobs will be to cover events in the Metropolis International Festival. I believe Portamus has already set up some meaningful interviews for me.

Eat your fill this weekend,my ravenous friends,before the credit crunch has you fumbling for the value packs on the bottom shelf. A little of what you fancy may become very thin on the ground indeed.
Much good fortune to you all, from Amarantha Willow, teenage temptress, the Rainbow Faery.