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.
