toadstooltales

My recent fling with the Theatricals came to an abrupt halt two Saturday mornings ago when I fell. Simple as that. Despite my lissmome ways and elven lightness of foot, I fell. Right on the front of the stage, in front of everybody. I looked up at them from my crumpled form,uttered a sharp aaaagh, and watched as the looked disbelievingly back at me.
I picked myself up and limped to my theatrical position. Was it ok ? Well, maybe. But alas,no.After five to ten minutes my leg below the knee began to swell . The pain began and I've been treating it ever since. I could not continue so I left the stage while they continued to rehearse................
I got home around three and collapsed on our oaken bed in tears. Pendragon arrived home shortly after to find me a wet,limp mangled form at the foot of the bed. he listened to my story in horror.

Whe I left the stage, no one seemed to really register my needs. The Stage Technician Supremo looked at my knee dismissively and fetched a cold cloth that looked like he had been wiping the floor with it. (What - no ice, I can hear you say) !
i was probably in shock,bbut nothing was offered for that either. I kept thinking - there must be a Faery First Aider - they will come along soon.
They never did.
I sat for an hour and a half in pain. People ooccasionally came by and just looked. The Costume Designer Kenniolto was solicitous, "popping by", looking at my injured leg,offering me two painkillers but appearing with every visit a little more worried about the damage done.Another kindly soul offered me a bottle of iced water to hold against it.I was stunned and dismayed. More time passed.
No one took charge, no one offered to take me to the nearest Faery Accident and Emergency Station which I instinctively knew I now needed.
At 2pm they stopped rehearsing. Remindur appeared looking unusually sheepish and surveyed my swollen leg.

"I don't think it's broken," he offered. "wOULD YOU LIKE A TAXI ?"
In a haze of pain I let them gather my belongings and bundle me into a yellow cab.
The driver of the cab showed more concern than they had.

Later at A & E the Faery Accident Technician was clear, after several tests had been done.Not broken but massively bruised.
She asked what the First Aider had done. ?
What help had I been given after my fall ?
Had I had the essential Ice and Elevation ?

NO, NO,+NO.
THE INJURY MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN TOO BAD WITH IMMEDIATE CARE,BUT NOW THIS WOULD TAKE MUCH LONGER. WEEKS.
AND YES, I WAS OUT OF THE PLAY.

I cried then, and I am still crying somewhere inside.
One of those long deep, heart clutching sobs that sits congealing inside you, waiting to well up and swallow your whole being. WHy me ? Why now ? Just why ?

Pendragon says the crying will stop. And then I'll just be angry. He is angry already. but has said we will address the matter to the Theatricals when I am feeling better.
And what of them ? I don't know.
The show opened last Thursday without me. Did they fill my role ? I don't know.
We left director Remindur messages on the woodland phonne and e-mails telling him what had happened.To date there has been no reply. No sorry to hear your news. No thank you for letting us know. No- we will miss you, no concern for my injury, no thank you for all your hard work, no - we'll miss you.

No thank you for everything I gave.

And the hardest cut of all. I believed I mattered to them, I believed in their friendship, I trusted that they cared for me after all this time. That they held none of these things dear is the most crushing disappointment of all.

Yesterday the long congealing sob within me seemed mighty large indeed. Today, well.......I am starting to feel a little angry. I must be feeling somewhat better....................

To happier times dear friends. In the meantime I'll settle for easier ways to come and go from the toilet on one leg, learning to gain some control of my elven crutches, and to finding a smile somewhere amid the myriad of difficulties which temporarily dominate my day.
Love and warm winter woollies to you all from Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

Apologies for the lack of tales from the toadstool,but the Rainbow Faery has had an accident. She was treading the boards last Saturday morning,and slipped and fell. Her pretty pink slipperettes caught on the side of the stage and she fell in rather ungainly fashion on her right leg. Massively bruised,massively sore,and massively upset. So she is temporarily lying in her four poster oaken bed,surrounded by Pendragon's love,bottles of spring water,and Pendi's healing watercress soup. She will return soon,when her leg is healed a little more, and her disappointment subsides.

Much love to all my friends out there,wish me a timely improvement,and any tips you have for my immediate recovery would be very welcome .
From Amarantha Willow, the Rainbow Faery.

I had barely opened my eyes this morning and allowed the sunrise to flood in,when Piccallilli Peasegood telephoned to beg for some dispensation to sleep in late,as a poor alternative to our proposed day-out. i bit back my real feelings and said "yes,of course",but inside did feel slightly miffed,as this is the second time she has made an arrangement with me and cancelled. But I can't really be mad with Piccallilli for long. She has had a rather intensive time recently due to her daughter's wedding,and seems genuinely drained with all the family fallouts and in-law piques. She was quick to add that she is free next Thursday, and could I make it then ? I tentatively said yes,and assured her that I was looking forward to seeing her. The phone call over,I felt the silence and the long unprepared expanse of day ahead of me.
However ,rather than making a start to my personal preparations,I suddenly felt tired and a little poorly. I do have some problems occasionally with an unpredictable colon,a diverticular unsettlement of sorts, which can arise out of nowhere. That is what seemed to be happening now. I went back to bed for a couple of hours,and felt slightly better on waking.

I decided not to go far but to wash and dress,and face the day with a gentle walk down to the village.
The rain had started when I set out,but didn't last long,and I soon saw the village at the foot of the hill. The Ladies of Mercy Charity Shop was open,and I can never resist popping in ,and having a quiet rummage through the bargains . Three of the Ladies could be seen on the shopfloor - Avuncula Dreary, Peelliebarra Mouselock,and Twistlething Snout. All very different,but usually up for a chat or a right good moan.I love their dedication to their charity work,even if it sometimes includes a rant or two.
i very quicky found a wonderful purchase. Fifty different copies of parchments by my favourite author, Thackeray Chrackling were beaming up at me from a yellow and red box. All in good to excellent condition. And all at rock bottom prices. The parchments ranged from the 1950s to the 1980s, so I took them as a job lot,plus a couple of bags of blue and white wools for weaving.
At the desk,I asked Avuncula what was happening,as I had heard the shop was closing. Avuncula kept her eyes down,but mumbled "yes" and "don't know in a very gloomy way. Peelliebarra passed on her way to the ladies'clothing stand and put in "December",and glanced at me for consolation. Twistlething looked over with a resigned smile,while continuing to shuffle about tidying things. She seemed rather oblivious to the realities of the closure.
I watched Avuncula packing my bags and knew that I would be very sorry not to be able to chat with them,and hunt for bargains. Monday and TThursday afternoons would not be the same without them.
I found the Buttercup Bistro full apart from a lonely side seat,so I thrust down my packages beside the seat,and consulted the menu for lunch. I ordered a bowl of butternut squash soup with parsley croutons, and surveyed the munching diners in my midst. I was beginning to feel a little better thanks to my walk and the warmth of the day. It had been a grand day for walking,with light shining everywhere,through mercantile windows,on the bricked buildings,and in the small cosiness of the Buttercup Bistro. Even better, there was no sign at the counter of Aristotle ,the Boggart Boy,and his wide-eyed lusting eyes.
Instead , Betuballa took my order,and called a merry "how are we today?"

I supped soup and flicked through some of my purchases. I scarcely noticed other folk finishing their snacks and making for the door, but when I did look up,there was only me in the side seat ,and Spectrolius Dewberry,and his wife Nausollita , sitting in the corner window berth, drinking tea . They are both elderly,long time residents of Dingley Dell, and well-known among the literary crowd. She, with her sculptured blue rinse , and smart brown suit,neat in every detail. He,long suffering and pale in his navy and red waterproof cotte,and beige hosen. (never a good combination foor an ageing complexion.)
nausollita scanned the menu for what seemed an eternity,then ordered a tea,specifically with a jug of pasteurised milk. Spectrolius ,with some glee,added a hot scone ,with cream and some of his favourite persimmon jam. It was the only time he smiled.It was the only time he spoke,in fact.

meanwhile Nausollita fussed, tutted, tidied him, tidied the cups, the plates, and gave me a look that said she would have tidied me if only given half a chance.
But in this tidy picture there was something that I had not expected.
Three quarters of the way through this display,Spectrolius sliced off a piece of scone, carfully creamed and jammed it,then romantically placed it between the lips of a thoroughly surprised nausollita. She swallowed hard but the smile she passed to him was reassurance enough that Love never dies,even if it occasionally rolls up and gets wrinkled. It reminded me of what I have always known - that sometime, somewhere, someday,in our dotage, Pendragon and I are sure to exchange that same glance I saw today, over a skinny blueberry muffin and a decaff. acorn latte.

Ain't Love grand ?

They left, warm and toasty, and full of the completeness of their lives together.
I left too,after gathering up my packages,while Septimus Grunt,just arrived and sitting in the seat nearest the door, was shovelling in a whopping sausage roll and giant scoop of beans. The Ingratious and Antisocial recalcitrant munched his way through the pile of steaming food without even taking his peeked blue cap off. Betuballa,clearing the last crumbs of the day from the wooden tables,waved a merry cheerybye.
What a fine day !
It had started so slowly,yet had brought me unexpected pleasure.
Days like these are to be savoured, my dear friends, as is any opportunity to survey the life around you,contemplate the meaning of all things,consider the ups of living in such a beautiful place, and come to terms with the occasional sadnesses, such as losing our best loved Charity Shop.
Much love to you all,may all your days be such gracious ones. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.

My dear niece Manderlay has sent me some beautiful photos of her two children today. Such angels,at least in print. The youngest sprite is called Celandine. She has two and a half elven years, has blonde trailing curls,and has the sweetest smile I have ever seen.She is so beautiful,and growing up with Manderlay's sunny personality. Young Ossiemandius, her nearly four -year old brother,is just as handsome,with his stunning dark eyes,hair and looks. Cheeky imps,but of the nicest kind. They look so full of fun. I will write back and pass on all my news to them.

The rain has suddenly started down in sheets.It is pressing hard down on the window,and rattling the pane. The light has gone down and the day feels as though it is slipping early into night. Winter is chasing Autumn hard on its heels. Tonight it wil be much colder,the weather man has said,and we must learn to bear it as we do the changing seasons at this time of year.Time to search through my Autumn weeds and find something more suitable to wear than dull-coloured t-shirts with cover up cardies.
It is time for big jumpers with cable patterns and warm woolly sleeves.

I can still see the Fearless Faery out in her garden,rampaging across the lawn and hacking at the corner weeds. She is a game old broiler,and knows how to put in the effort when needed. She works hard in her garden ,but stopping to put on a mackintosh and sou'wester might have been sensible if she is to continue out there. Her companion beast ,little Daisy ,is careering round in circles,enjoying the wet feeling on her coat and paws. She's going to make a right mess on the Fearless Faery's carpet when she finally goes back indoors.
I needed lots of consoling yesterday when I found out that the Ladies of Mercy Charity Shop has been sold. The hotel next door has bought the lease,and someday soon,my little used parchment haven will be no more. I am paying a visit there tomorrow,so I will find out exactly when the shop will meet its demise.
It has been in Dingley Dell for twenty years ,and will be much missed.

Pendragon's campaign against marauding slugs continues apace.He has built a new trap out of an old milk carton, and assures me it will be impossible to beat as a catcher of the Slime Brethren. I am sure he is correct ,but feel a little note on the gate, warning slugs and snails not to enter here, might have been kinder. I don't care for their greenery consuming ways,but feel that all living things deserve something of a life. Retraining for slugs ,however, would not seem to be an option.

Tomorrow I am making a visit to The Jolly Woodman,to get some autumn gardening supplies. Piccallilli Peasegood has an afternoon off,and has promised to join me. We will have a delightful time,choosing gardening products,and plants, and eating our lunch in the Tearooms. Piccallilli is bringing her daughter's betrothal photographs,so we will be making an afternoon of it. I have lots of news to tell her ,and she will be ever so pleased to hear about my betrothal dress. So the afternoon will pass, in fits of laughter and squeals.
My work with the Theatricals continues at pace as well. Our rehearsals are finishing later,and I am almost sleeping on my return to the toadstool each day.I returned at eleven last night, on the Metropolis tram,clutching my script and flushed with the successes of the day. Pendragon was propped up in our four-posterbed with four soft pillows,but still managed a smile as I popped my head around the bedroom door.
This weekend we will have a quiet time at home when I am not at rehearsals. Pendragon cooks up a storm on our return from metropolis and we get time to enjoy the dubious charms of our high definition picture box.

Snatch a quiet moment,yourselves, now and then, my merry mobile chums, and remember to wear two pairs of thermolactyl socks whenever possible. We of the elven breed particularly suffer from sensitive feet and even the slightest of leaks into our leather slipperettes,will see us shuffling and sniffling for days.

With Love and Spiced Apple turnovers,from dear Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.