Wednesday, 20 October 2021

Coltsfoot and the Autumn Colours

The trees are beginning to change colour here in Mellowdene. Autumn in almost upon us, and we will be able to delight in the rich leaf colours that come when summer prepares to go on holiday.

That is almost lyrical; it must be Chris Snow-Warren's influence! And yet it's not only autumn that will be colouring our particular lives shortly. I'd better clarify. It all started with a number of letters delivered by our postman Pete Petite.


Two weeks ago there was a letter for Cecile, and we subsequently learned that there had been similar communications sent to my brother Newton, to Bruno Bearbury at Minestrone House, and one addressed to one of our millers (Maynard Chestnut) and his brother Durwood. 

The sender? Coltsfoot Ivory, Cecile's cousin. The Ivory family were returning to Mellowdene.
 

Whilst this was marvellous news, it brought to a head an issue that Cecile herself had created. Her brother Rowan was not aware that Colt had been a Mellowdene resident for much of the ten years Rowan himself had been away from the village. With the sparky relationship Cecile had with her brother she had thought it would be a fun prank to present Colt to him as a complete surprise. She hadn't expected her cousin to stay away as long as he had, so her secrecy had begun to work against her.


Unusually for her, she hadn't thought through the details. If anything, she'd made it more difficult, asking her cousin's friends not to mention Colt's Mellowdene residency to Rowan. Even when we had visited Colt and his family last December, Rowan had been told that we were visiting the unchanging climate of the so-called calm strip in order to stay with an old friend Celandine, neglecting to mention that she was Colt's wife. Rowan didn't know his cousin was married; indeed, he wasn't aware of any details of his childhood friend's life since he and Cecile used to play with him years ago. 

The issue needed resolving. And I wasn't alone in thinking this. We had visitors. 

o 0 O 0 o

The Chestnut brothers - Durwood and Maynard - arrived first. Maynard was the lodger who had been looking after the house on Cherry Blossom Avenue whilst Colt and his family had been away.
 

"I know that Colt and Celandine wouldn't mind me staying on," said Maynard, "but I don't think that's a good idea."

"You've become used to living alone?" I ventured.


"Oh no, it's not that," said the raccoon with a hint of a smile, "but their youngest is old enough for his own room. I'd need to move sooner or later. This way there's no pressure."

Durwood nodded. "He can move in with us until he decides where he wants to go."

"That's nice," said Cecile, "and I should thank you for not mentioning Colt to Rowan."

"That's okay," said Maynard. "It sounded like something Colt would enjoy. Surprising your brother, that is."


"How are you planning on doing that?" said Durwood.

"I wish I knew," said Cecile, "I'm open to suggestions."

At that point our next visitor arrived. My brother Newton. 


"Ah!" said Maynard, "It looks as if the old gang is assembling."

Newton did a double-take. "He wrote to you all too?"

"Of course he did." Cecile indicated a seat. "Take off your jacket if you're staying, and sit down."


"Hmm. Right." He complied. Most people do with Cecile. It's not that she's bossy; she seems to have an air of assuredness that inspires confidence. That's what made this Rowan issue out of the ordinary.

Durwood moved to Newton's side. "In my letter, Colt says you've been writing to him."


"Only when I've had an idea." said Newton. "I can rely upon him to tell me if my... more unusual... ideas are..."

"Crazy?" suggested Maynard.


"Feasible," said Newton. "It will be much better when he's back and we can discuss things properly." He turned his attention to Cecile. "Did he give a date when he'll return?"

"Within the month. So we haven't long to decide how we tell Rowan."

There were nods all around but no suggestions.

This pause for thought was interrupted by the arrival of our next visitor. Bruno Bearbury.

  
I suppose this is the point I should explain the connection between Coltsfoot Ivory and our visitors. Years ago their informal discussions led to a sort of inventors' club. It should be no secret to you that Newton is very brainy. The fact the Sylvanian Research Group sought him out and have now - I understand - promoted him to an influential position is evidence of that. And yet, whilst practical in many ways, his theories can far exceed those abilities.

Coltsfoot Ivory is a talented engineer. When he and his family moved close to his in-laws' home in the calm strip there was no worry about him gaining employment. He was snapped up immediately by a nearby company as a consultant. I think Newton felt Colt's absence more than he'd admit. But you know Newton - or maybe you don't (!) - he doesn't say much on such things.
 

Maynard Chestnut works at Timbertop Mill with Elmer Timbertop. His hobby is making intricate models. As such, he's invaluable for making small prototypes and parts for larger devices.
 

Durwood Chestnut is a craftsman and furniture maker. He enjoys constructing sturdy models based upon his brother's prototypes.


That leaves Bruno. He calls himself a handyman and he's essential to the smooth running of Minestrone House, but that doesn't describe his capabilities fully. Electrician, plumber and a key part of this inventors' club.
 

"Alright guys?" said Bruno. "And Cecile. You okay?"


"Fine thank you, Bruno," Cecile replied, smiling at the bluff greeting by the good-natured bear. "You're here about Colt too?"

"Yeah. Should be good to see him. But I thought we should get our heads together about Rowan."

"I'm glad to hear that, Bruno," smiled Cecile, "but so far we've been unable to come up with an idea."


"Right. Fair do. So maybe you'd like to hear my idea?" He scanned our faces and acknowledged our affirmation. "Good-oh. It's a simple one, and I know you like to be a bit tricksy with him, Cecile."

He paused until we urged him to continue.

"Right. How do you tell Rowan that Colt's lived here for years? Simple. Don't tell him."
 


o 0 O 0 o

Once explained, the idea appealed to Cecile. She remembered how Rowan had neglected to mention that he had a wife and two children when he returned to Mellowdene. She recalled how he'd surprised us by revealing them at the house he'd also secretly purchased.

Bruno's suggestion was perfect. Rowan would be delighted that Colt had moved to Mellowdene, apparently buying a house from Maynard Chestnut. Rowan would be surprised that Colt had a wife and three children (Cecile loved that).


And yet that wasn't the best bit. Cecile adored the idea that - over days or even weeks - different villagers would recognise and greet Colt. How did they know him? Each chance meeting would confuse Rowan and his curiosity would mount. Undoubtedly Colt would play along and extend the prank as long as possible.

A reminder of the sort of fun the young Cecile, Rowan and Coltsfoot Ivory had in their childhood.
 


o 0 O 0 o

When Colt and his family arrived on our doorstep a couple of days ago it was a happy occasion.
 

 
The children were ecstatic to resume their longstanding friendship. Orton was introduced. Celandine and Cecile had a good chat, and then Colt heard of the plan for Rowan. As expected, everyone was on board.

Maynard Chestnut had moved out, so the Cherry Blossom Avenue address was vacant but welcoming for the returning Ivory family.

Within a day, the club of inventors met. Rowan wasn't the main subject, although it was noted that the skills he'd had in his earlier career might come in useful. As an architect he'd been a more than competent draughtsman. 
 

Ideas flew around like autumn leaves blowing in the wind; a storm of colour. The simile is not by accident. 

Years ago, Newton's wife Audrey had coined the phrase when she saw the group stood in a line, their clothing catching the afternoon sun. 

"I don't know about an inventor's club. Look at your clothes. You should be the Autumn Club."
 


o 0 O 0 o







Friday, 15 October 2021

Musical Chairs : The Sylvan River (1)

The premiere of the musical The Sylvan River was approaching. Naturally our anticipation was mounting and we were wondering about the practical details. 
 

Darcy Fielding had spoken to the Truffle brothers and had tentatively arranged a bus to take us to the theatre in Calico New City. Everton Hopkins was agreeable to be our driver. However, there had been no real details about tickets. There was a collective sigh of relief when a letter arrived one morning.


This was short lived. The good news was that we had been allocated a small theatre box. The bad news was the number of tickets. Four. One for Chris Snow-Warren, one for me. And two "Plus-Ones". Cecile and Charity, obviously.  


It was probably naive of us to think that we'd be able to take our families. Had I misunderstood producer Grant Foxworth's words when he phoned a few weeks ago and mentioned tickets for friends or family? I had assumed Beverley and Brendan would accompany me; probably Orton, Merlin and Eliza too. Similarly, Chris had thought Hope and Susan would go with him and Charity. Also, with my nephew Figwort showing such an interest in music and my songwriting, I'd even considered taking him and his sister.

Four chairs. 


A phone call to Grant Foxworth (via Pearl Babblebrook on the village switchboard) didn't resolve the issue. The tickets were already allocated: there were some for a small number of VIPs, some for the press (including Darcy - he was more pro-active) and the rest had gone to assorted sales outlets. They had sold out. Whilst that was great news for the musical, it didn't help me.

We hadn't promised the children anything, but I didn't like the idea they would have their expectations dashed. When I told Cecile the result of the phone call she sighed. Her brother Rowan was visiting and his gaze followed us,  switching back and forth.


"Can't be helped, mate," he said, presumably an attempt to make us feel better.

"I should have checked earlier."

"By the sound of it, it wouldn't have made much difference. How many additional tickets were you hoping for?"

I did the mental arithmetic. "Nine, I think."

"Oh."

"I would have liked Figwort to come. He's so interested."


He smiled. "Yeah. You've done a great job with him, mate. I'm so grateful he's opened up. Angelica is too."

"Hmm. She said something similar when she visited, a few weeks ago."

"Right." He pursed his lips. "You know we met some arty types when we were travelling Sylvania in our camper van?"

Cecile spoke up. "How could we forget? It led to Beverley's portrait of the mayor."


"Yes. Well, Angelica's maintained some contacts. Maybe they have suggestions."

"Right," I acknowledged, although I didn’t hold out much confidence.

o 0 O 0 o

That afternoon we had a visit from Angelica. She had a free period from her teaching  at the school and she had something to report.

 
"Rowan came to see me at lunchtime and explained the problem. I've made a few calls and have some news."

Cecile stared. "You're not saying you've found some more tickets?"
 

"Sadly no," she grimaced, "but I have made an arrangement with the school. I have arranged for a school trip for the children to see a matinee in a couple of weeks. It's not the premiere, but Beverley, Brendan and their pals will get to go together. They'll like that, won't they?"

I smiled. "It will lessen the blow about not going with us, certainly."

"Thanks, Angelica," said Cecile. "I imagine they'll enjoy a bit of showing off about their dad's musical."


"Yes, thanks Angelica," I said. "I thought Figwort would particularly have enjoyed the premiere, but this goes some way towards..."


"Oh, don't worry about that. I did have a tiny success with my contacts. I'd hoped Lucian Frogg - as a VIP - might have a spare seat. He didn't, but my old chum Maudie Fox-Brown does, and Figwort knows her. She's agreed he can sit with her. So if we could travel with you..."

"Of course! But what will you do whilst we're in the theatre?"

"Maybe I can convince someone to let me help backstage!" she said with a straight face. Seeing our reaction she laughed. "No, but seriously, I could go out for a posh meal. Treat the bus driver, perhaps."


"That would be Everton Hopkins," said Cecile.

"Roger and Rosa's uncle? Doesn't he usually drive the long distance routes? We should have plenty to talk about. Maybe Rowan could tag along, if there's room on the bus..."


o 0 O 0 o

So, although it wasn't an ideal situation, the children would be able to see the end result of their daddies' work over the long months they'd worked on The Sylvan River. Brendan was delighted that Lucky, Nolly and Hughie would share his reflected Sylvan River fame. Beverley was a little saddened not to attend with her daddy, but the combination of her friends' company and a possible visit to a city ice cream parlour (open daytime but not in the evening) helped just a bit.

o 0 O 0 o