April Showers

My good friend, Chris Snow-Warren, penned this verse after seeing me in the rain, calling Brendan and Orton in from the garden. I thought I'd share it with you.

 

April Showers

The showers came, that April morn

yet none complained, none felt forlorn

in Mellowdene, where I was born,

for that is not our way.

And even when the minutes passed

an hour or more, sky overcast,

we knew the showers would, at last,

pass by; they wouldn't stay.

The weeks of warm spring skies had blessed

us with bright days, then from the west

the clouds edged in to say "a rest

is well earned by the sun,

and whilst we're here, it's time, we think,

to give the plants down there a drink."

We barely had the time to blink!

I guessed that some might run!

Yet through a window on that day

I didn't see that old cliché

for two young boys were hard at play -

to rain, they paid no heed,

For one, by habit, was well cloaked,

the other cared not he was soaked;

they splashed and skipped about and joked;

a joy to see, indeed.

A mother's voice that says, "Be told!
We don't want them to catch a cold,"
can cause a vision to behold:
Shiny, blue and wet.
The sight of friend and workmate Jack
Resplendent in a plastic mac -
I wrote this verse to give him flack
so he will not forget!

In my mind's eye I tend to see

The Keystone Critters off TV

(my brother once invited me

to watch this vintage show).

The children will begin to chat

on seeing Jackson in that hat -

Let April show us joy in that,

and let the laughter flow!

Christian Snow-Warren 

o 0 O 0 o

Chocolate Flavours

When chatting with Frasier Chocolate the other day, the conversation turned – not surprisingly – to chocolate. He had recently expanded his considerable range of confectionery to create a treat named after his daughter Freya. The freychoca delight used a different variety of cocoa bean; its flavour had a slight hint of strawberry. It was proving to be quite popular with the youngsters.

“Where do you find these new beans, Frasier?” I asked, “Especially since you never seem to leave Mellowdene?”

“Don’t need to leave, Jackson,” he grinned. “I have an extensive network of contacts. They keep me up to speed with the latest chocolate news.”

“Would that be the hill cats?” I knew that Frasier’s deliveries came by canal.

“No. I keep in touch with my contacts by telephone. We’ve paid for permanent switchboard connections and have special switching boxes so that we don’t inconvenience Mabel Periwinkle and the other operators. ”

“Oh. But how did you make these contacts in the first place?”

“Simple. They’re my family.”

 “Family?”

“I’ve got distant relations all over Sylvania, many of whom have been in the business for generations. How do you think we got our family name?”

I laughed. “I never really thought about that. Are they all as adventurous as you?” I teased.

“Most of them are happy to stay home, love their families, make chocolate, I gather.”

“Most?”

“Well… there are a few notable exceptions.”

“Go on.”

“There’s Clamber Chocolate. He likes mountaineering.”

“Then there’s Waverley Chocolate. He likes surfing.”

“And I can’t forget Cousteau Chocolate. Deep sea diving’s his thing.”

“They’re the main ones that come to mind. Although the craziest of all are Wilbur and Orville Chocolate. Orville flies his bi-plane and Wilbur walks on the wings.”

“Bi-plane? Walking on wings?”

“That’s right. Orville owns one of the few flying machines in Sylvania. He dusts crops down south. Wilbur is just potty.”

I had to laugh. Especially since I visualised Frasier doing all these things.

“I think I’d prefer you stick to your domesticity rather than start walking on the wings of flying machines.”

“Me too.”

I smiled, and my thoughts meandered, thinking of the wide variety of Frasier’s chocolate beans. They were sourced from all over Sylvania – although I wasn’t sure how the hill cats were able to satisfy his delivery requirements. I must ask him one of these days.

o 0 O 0 o

Additional Flavours

Southwest of Acorn Valley, in the west facing mountains of Pinnisula, you may stumble across the cocoa mines where blocks of wispachocs are embedded in the rock walls.

Spelunker Chocolate - one of Frasier's numerous relatives - is an avid caver who became one of the miners here. He extracts the blocks for transportation to Mellowdene and the rest of Sylvania.

o 0 O 0 o

A Fête Worse Than... Unless...

When Cecile told me that we had received a phone call from Alex Periwinkle, that he had a problem and he needed to see me urgently, I hurried round to his house. When I arrived, he wasn't alone. Frasier Chocolate was sitting, watching Alex pace up and down his living room, shaking his head.

"No, Fraze," Alex was saying, "it's too late for that." That was when he noticed me. "Ah, Jackson," he said, a smile fighting but failing to sustain, "So good of you to come. I hope you can help me. There's a problem with the Melting."

He indicated that I should sit, then outlined the situation.

"I was asked to organise the music. After the success of last year, with Bernard Snow-Warren singing, my initial thoughts were to try and get his old band back together. They were a little unsure at first, but they warmed to the idea. I'd given them plenty of notice, so they could start to practise. As you know, my dad still plays; being organist for Kelvin Waters keeps his hands agile. For the fête he would use the instrument from the village hall. Bernard was so proud of the response to his singing, he's kept that up."

"So Chris tells me," I commented.

"Yes, and Gus Timbertop often plays his drums in a trio at the Bear Pit. So that only left Smokey Wildwood and Winston Cottontail for the bass and guitars. We had no problem finding a guitar for Winston, but we had to arrange for a suitable stand-up bass to be shipped in to the village."

"Okay," I said, wondering how this related to the mysterious problem. I was to find out.

"Well, the first thing was Ramsey Nettlefield's idea of attracting bands from all over Sylvania. That takes some arranging, so my attention was diverted to seeking out possible musicians to ask. That meant I didn't keep on top of the Bunny Boys and their progress. After all, we wouldn't be totally reliant upon them."

I thought I saw where this was going. "Then Ramsey had second thoughts."

"Yes. Well, that was part of the problem. Of course, I had to contact those musicians who'd expressed an initial interest, thanking them but explaining the music festival was not happening."

"So you were back to the Bunny Boys being the main event of the fête."

He nodded. "They had to expand their set list again, meaning more practice. Then I discovered that the bass had been late arriving and then it was damaged in transit. Smokey needed to get another, and he was worried he wouldn't have time to practise. And then the real bad luck started."

I slapped my head. "Of course! Winston broke his arm, didn't he?"

"He did. And Bernard has developed a throat problem. I don't know if it's a strain on his vocal cords, laryngitis, a minor infection - but he's been advised to minimise talking for a couple of weeks. Singing is a total no-no."

"That's a real shame. I wonder why Chris didn't tell me?"

"The diagnosis was only two days ago."

"Ah."

"That's why I was wondering... how do you feel about singing?"

I laughed, then saw his face. "Oh, you're serious." I reigned in my laughter. "I'm sorry, Alex. I can hold a tune, but my voice wouldn't suit a performance."

"Oh." He was crestfallen. "I didn't know who else to ask. Do you know anyone suitable?"

"I can give it some thought. Presumably you need to know as soon as possible?"

Alex was about to answer when his wife called him.

He was needed on the telephone. He gave us his apologies and said he wouldn't be long. I was left alone with Frasier, who exhibited a hint of a smile. I wondered what amused him, so asked.

"It's Alex, panicking," said the village chocolatier. "He was so honoured at been asked to organise the Melting music, and now he sees it all going wrong. His idea of bringing back Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys looks less and less likely."

"And that's funny?"

"No, of course not. But his view is too narrow. I've suggested a solution, but he can't see it fitting in with his original plan."

"Oh. What was your idea?"

"My niece Belle is pretty good on the violin. Her flat-mate Tegan is marvellous on the cello."

"What was Alex's objection?"

"That they wouldn't have time to work out arrangements of the Bunny Boys' repertoire and practise them."

"Do they need to play Bunny Boy songs?"

"That's why I said his view is too narrow." Frasier relented. "Maybe I'm being a little unfair. Perhaps he's thinking the Bunny Boys would have difficulty getting up to speed with songs other than their own."

I nodded. "Maybe. I think Mack Periwinkle isn't comfortable performing new songs unless he's thoroughly practised them. Preferably with manuscript. I don't think playing by ear's in his comfort zone any more."

"Gus is happy banging away, though," laughed Frasier, "although maybe not with classical violin and cello."

I had to smile at the thought. "True, true. So is that why you're here? To volunteer Belle and Tegan's musical expertise?"

"No. There was a rumour the entire event was going to be postponed. I wanted to know if it was true. As you know, I'm creating the chocolate rabbits for the Bunny Hunt. A change of date wouldn't affect me but my brother would be hiding them and a postponement could affect his availability."

I did laugh then; a memory returned of the previous Bunny Hunt. "Oh, those Waters children last year!"

"The Bunny Hunt rules are being amended to close that loophole," said Frasier with a wide grin.

We chatted a while until Alex returned. He found a seat and slumped into it.

"No Bunny Boys this year. My dad has the flu."

o 0 O 0 o

Alex was dejected. "I phoned Gus and told him it was off. I can't fight any more. Maybe I should have planned for health problems." He looked up. "You must think I'm awful, going on about the fête when my dad is ill. The clinic wants him to be monitored for 24 hours but they believe it's only a mild bout, fortunately. Henry Bearbury says he should be fully recovered in two weeks. Just not in time for the Melting."

I sighed. "You're really down aren't you? Providing the music is weighing down upon you."

"It is my responsibility. I agreed to do it."

"Well, I don't like to see you like this. You're normally such an upbeat chap, Alex."

He shrugged.

"Right." I had reached a decision. "Since Mack is unavailable, I'm prepared to play. I still won't sing, but I'm comfortable improvising and playing the piano by ear."

It was as if Alex had been given a tonic. "That's great, thanks. I should let Gus know."

I held up a restraining paw. "Don't do that. I won't be playing a Bunny Boys set. I've just thought of a vocalist but the material would need to be appropriate. And I think we should be talking to Frasier's niece."

Alex's eyes went wide.

o 0 O 0 o

It was only a few months ago when I heard Belle Chocolate and Tegan Golightly play at a recital and I had been impressed. So much so that I arranged - via Belle's mother - for Chris Snow-Warren and I to hear them again. They were certainly a pair of talented girls. I accepted Alex's worry that they wouldn't have time to adapt to the Bunny Boys' music, but if they played music with which they were familiar they couldn't fail to impress a crowd at the Melting.

I had sufficient confidence in my abilities to know I could competently accompany them. And I knew certain songs they played were written in such a way that vocals were an option.

A few people remember the young contralto Roxanne Renoir from around six years ago. She duetted with Lionel Grande on one of his popular gramophone records, touring with him around Sylvania to promote the album. A wonderful voice, but Roxanne didn't enjoy being in the limelight. She still makes recordings, but few people see her in public. She prefers to live privately. She lives in Mellowdene.

I know, because Chris and I have written some songs for her. She loves living in Mellowdene and is happy that few people know they have a noted singer on their doorstep. That's because she doesn't use her professional name in her ordinary life. To all the villagers she is simply Roxy Renard.

o 0 O 0 o

I'm not going to detail all the events of this year's Melting. Call it a festival, call it a celebration of the Snow Queen - whatever tag one gives it, it wouldn't be considered the worst fête - as Alex Periwinkle had feared it might.

And as Roxy Renard's velvet tones floated above the village green, woven around the melodies from the violin, cello and harmonium trio, I noted in particular that three of our audience had contented smiles on their faces. Maybe they were temporarily suffering ill health, but these three Bunny Boys wouldn't have missed this performance for the world.

o 0 O 0 o