20,000

Hello! Just a quickie from me, Darcy Fielding on behalf of myself and Jackson.

I've noticed that our writings have now been viewed 20,000 times and I am delighted. Thank you to all of you in the human world who have taken time to read our tales of Mellowdene.

 

Maybe some of you have wondered how this blog came to be. (I remember a time when the word blog was meaningless. That's no longer the case, obviously.) Well, it started with the twin brother of my old schoolfriend Jackson Butterglove. 

You know I'm a curious mouse. As a newspaperman it goes with the territory. That's why I started asking lots of questions when I'd noticed that the Sylvanian Research Group were providing a handful of other businesses with a range of new equipment to increase safety, efficiency and productivity. What did the SRG mean to achieve? I cornered Newton Butterglove, scientific boffin and - I knew - part of that very organisation.

He originally tried to be evasive but soon gave up when he remembered how persistent I can be. I'm quite aware that I can be a pain sometimes. I don't always like being that way, but it is a useful technique when ferreting out information.

"Alright, Darcy," he said, "I know I'm being secretive but it's nothing bad. Mellowdene is a growing community and there are needs to fulfil. The SRG has access to technology, and if we can use some of it to support Sylvanian values whilst easing the villagers' workload..."

"We are ideal fodder for their social experimentation?"

"Wow, Darcy. That's a dark way of looking at it."

"Maybe. But I've seen some of the technology. I've been round to look at the recycling and processing equipment at Mice & Clean's waste management site. It looks very advanced."

"It is."

"Where does all of it come from? How many genius inventors, designers and engineers are there in the Sylvanian Research Group?"

"Quite a few, actually," he said, but I detected something else in the way he spoke.

"They invented ALL of it? How long have they been stockpiling such a wide range..."

Newton held up a paw.

 

"Darcy. There are some things that I can't tell you."

"I have to find it out myself?"

He looked at me in silence. I realised the next move had to be his. He sighed.  

"Okay. Jackson always said that you were driven."

"So?"

"So, I'm prepared to tell you what you want to know - but only if you don't publicise it. It's not a subject for the Mellowdene Examiner."

"I won't agree to that before I know the details. Public safety comes first."

"Then you shouldn't have a problem. That's the primary aim of the SRG."

"Go on, then."  

o 0 O 0 o

I'd heard rumours but I didn't realise how true they were. A vast human world beyond Sylvania. The Sylvanian Research Group had contacts that had been investigating it for decades.

Whilst many inventions were of Sylvanian origins, some technology was inspired, borrowed or derived from human endeavours. It wasn't unrestricted acquisition - much was rejected as it was contrary to Sylvanian ideals. Some ideas could be used with little or no deviation. Others needed discussion. Technology could only be integrated when it was deemed safe - physically and philosophically. Newton was a resident of Mellowdene so able to slowly introduce ideas, gadgets and machines that would suit the village.

"I can upgrade the technology on your newspaper," said Newton. "We have devices called computers that can make editing and typesetting less error-prone."

"Is this a human-based technology?"

"Well, we've adapted it, but yes. It's the main way humans create newspapers these days. They can even connect these computers and share information over incredible distances."

"So I could connect to them."

I could tell by his expression that I'd surprised him again.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"They don't all have Sylvanian values."

"You don't understand," I said. "I don't want to be influenced by them. It's more the other way round. We could educate them."

Newton laughed. "And how would you do that?"

"Tell them about our lives. Who could fail to see the advantages?"

He fell silent. I waited whilst his mind whirred.

"You know, Darcy," he said, "that's not a bad idea. But it would need to be handled carefully."

"Life in Mellowdene. Sylvanian villagers going about their day-to-day lives. Subtle enough for you?"

"And you would write that?"

"I could do some, but practically I'd need at least one other writer to handle most of it."

"So much for keeping a secret. Bringing in someone else? No. I think we should forget the idea. Stick to upgrading your newspaper."

"But if I could suggest a writer who would keep the secret..." I began, then had a brainwave, continuing, "...and I know someone that both of us could trust to do that."

"Who would that be?"

"Someone who once entertained the school by writing 'The Great Green Gumpy Globbit of the Grasslands'."

Newton stared at me before laughing. "Jackson?"

"I think I could convince him."

"I don't doubt it. You can be very persuasive." He shook his head, smiling. "Tell you what - let me think about it. Once your new system is running, maybe we can discuss it again." 

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

We would discuss it again, but as far as I was concerned it was a formality. I would ask Jackson.

And now... there have been twenty thousand peeks into life at Mellowdene since we began. Whether it has changed any human lives for the better, I don't know. I'm doing my bit. The rest is up to you.

I'm happy. I hope you are!

o 0 O 0 o 

 

A Small Holiday

I guess it started with something Beverley said. She mentioned that Nichole Maces had returned from a holiday by the sea. She didn't have any ulterior motive; there was no hint of envy - not that I would have expected it. She was simply happy that one of her school friends had enjoyed herself. Nevertheless the remark had me wondering. Were we neglecting our children by not taking them away for holiday?

Yes, I know we travelled to one of the calm strips to stay with Coltsfoot Ivory and his family eighteen months ago. At the time, it was a much-needed break, we avoided a few weeks of winter weather and we could spend time with Cecile's cousin. We enjoyed ourselves. It was also the only real holiday my family had ever taken.

Why? Numerous reasons. A big one is our love of Mellowdene. The variety of people, the feeling of community, a climate that is - for most of the time - mellow; all of this keeps us here from choice. Another reason - never really discussed but at the back of our minds - was the financial considerations. I've said before that a career in songwriting isn't known for generating a large income. An inherited home shared with one's brother provides stability, but there's always an aversion to unnecessary extravagance. Holidays fell into that category, especially given our contentment in Mellowdene. But now?

The last couple of years have been kind. Lionel Grand included three of our songs on one of his long-playing records, and as a best seller it's still generating income. He's recently released another record - accompanied by Roxy Renard - and that contains two more of our songs. Discussions with the baritone Corbert Mulligan has resulted in a commission to write six (yes, six - a wonderful surprise) songs for him. The toothpaste jingle we wrote is continually being used in a series of television advertisements. All this is in addition to the Sylvan River musical. It is not only earning money for us - it has raised our profile and we're getting enquiries for further work.

With this in mind, a holiday could no longer be considered a financial burden. I mentioned it to Cecile.

o 0 O 0 o

"A holiday?" she said, adding with a teasing grin, "but how would that be any different for you, my love?"

I blew her a kiss. "It's nice to be appreciated, bunny cheeks, but I'm serious. Don't you think we deserve some time away?"

 

Cecile wrinkled her nose. "It would have to be special if we stayed any length of time. I do like my own bed and the freedom of being at home. Were you thinking of that museum of music in South Sylvania?"

"I was thinking more about the children. Don't you think the they would like to go on holiday?"

"Brendan would be happy wherever his mind is. And you know Beverley likes to visit her friends. A long stay anywhere might not be the best news for her. Where's this come from? Aren't you happy here?"

 

"Of course I am, Cess. I simply thought it might be nice for the children to generate some good memories in a different place."

Walking towards the kitchen table she seemed to consider. "Is this because Beverley mentioned Nichole's holiday last night?"

 

"That's what got me thinking, yes."

"Well, did your thinking suggest any particular destination?"

"Nothing concrete. That's why I wanted to discuss it with you."

"But you've had some ideas, I can tell."

"You seemed to be interested when Doris Seabreeze was telling you about where they lived on the coast. Her parents still live there, don't they?"

"Mister and Mrs Columbus? Yes," said Cecile, "but no. It might have been nice spending time with Doris when she lived there, but now she and Lawrence live here."

"Oh. Scrap that, then."

"What else?"

"We've got some contacts in Purrchester. And you know I don't just mean the Purrchester Shantymen connection from my songwriting. We mustn't forget the families who tried to help us when Rowan went missing and we went looking. You still keep in touch, don't you?"

"I write, yes, and I'd not forgotten their kindness. I suppose it would be nice to see them. It's a long way to travel though. Is there anywhere closer to home?"

"Well, Horatio regularly goes to Possum Creek in the Marita May. That would sort out the logistics for traveling. We could go there, rent a place and spend days at the beach."

"A few days at a beach might be nice. A week might be a bit long, though. Would it be worth renting a place for less than that?"

 

This was proving more difficult than I thought. I decided to concentrate on the positive.

"You fancy a beach holiday, then?" 

"For two or three days, maybe. But... I know!"

The sudden change in attitude startled me. "What?"

"North Beach! It's not too far."

I wasn't sure about that. According to the Umberhounds, they had come ashore towards the western end of North Beach (*see Arrival - The Umberhounds) and walking to Mellowdene - circumnavigating the end of the mountains - had taken them over six hours. Granted, they won't have been rushing, but we'd need to consider practicalities.  

"But there's nowhere to stay, and it's a long way on foot," I said, aware that the conversation had flipped so that I was the one airing objections. 

"Not if I have a word with Rowan."

I was no wiser.

o 0 O 0 o

All soon became clear. For years, Rowan had traveled around Sylvania with his family, living in their campervan. It was his pride and joy, and despite it having had minimal use since he'd returned to Mellowdene, he'd ensured that it was well maintained. At first, Cecile had worried that this was so that her brother could use the campervan to disappear again, but she soon realised her fears were unwarranted. Now, it was the perfect vehicle - no pun intended - to solve our travel and accommodation requirements.

o 0 O 0 o

It wasn't a long journey to North Beach in a vehicle. Once we had crossed the river bridge, the road would lead us around the last foothills of the mountain range and towards a notable flat rock area known as Gorse Flats. Whilst we would leave the road here, it would continue to wend its long journey along the coast. The road would eventually pass a junction where one could travel inland to Sweet Berry Valley or continue further along the coast to Arcfield and beyond.

Route to North Beach (map based upon Sylvanako's map of Sylvania, with thanks)

The Flats were safe to drive upon, although a little attention was required to avoid gorse bushes and to wind through beds of stonecrop and other native rock plants scattered here and there. Where Gorse Flats ended there were natural paths leading down to a series of small sandy coves. These were the westmost extent of the area we knew as North Beach. To be pedantic, North Beach ran north eastwards, but it wasn't up to me to rename local geographical features. What mattered was that we would reach our final destination. We would park the campervan a safe distance from the edge of Gorse Flats, and using this as our base, we could choose our own tiny private beach.

That was the plan. When we arrived, it appeared that having a beach to ourselves might not be possible. Others had preceded us. There was an private hire bus (empty except for the driver, Stan Bearbury), Gordon Doughty's hamburger wagon, and Dolly Dale with her candy floss tricycle.

 

"We don't need a private beach, Jack," said Cecile.

I shrugged. "It would have been nice, but I can't disagree."

"I wonder who else is here?" said Beverley, looking round. 

 

She pointed towards the hamburger wagon at a uniformed figure in conversation with Gordon. "I can see Mrs Bearbury. She'll know who came on the bus."

 

Brendan gazed towards the Hamburger Wagon and his eyes drifted to other activities nearby.

 

His head snapped back to look at us."It might be a secret," he said. "The passengers might be on a mission."

Beverley looked away trying to stifle a laugh. Brendan noticed but didn't seem offended.

"You may laugh," said Brendan, "but it's our duty to find out. We could question Miss Dale. But we'd need an excuse to go over."

Beverley understood instantly, as did Cecile and I. Our daughter grinned. "Perhaps we could pretend to be her customers."

"No," said Brendan, shaking his head. "Pretending's no good. We'd need to be realistic to maintain our covers."

 

Such inventiveness deserved reward. "Perhaps we could buy you candy flosses," I suggested. A redundant suggestion if ever there was one.

"Great idea, dad," smiled Brendan. He looked down. "And obviously Russell agrees."

o 0 O 0 o

 

As the children devoured their candy flosses, Dolly Dale informed us that she couldn't name all the bus passengers, but she did notice that the bus had been full.

 

 "Did you see if they left any of the beaches empty?" I said, not expecting an affirmative reply.

"I can't be certain," said Dolly, "but there is a secluded beach that most people miss. Do you see that large boulder behind that group of gorse bushes?" She pointed. "Go around the boulder and there's a small path that leads down towards the sea."

 

"That's good of you to tell us," said Cecile.

Dolly nodded towards Beverley. "My niece Iona is friends with your daughter. She'd want me to tell you."

Brendan's voice tentatively interupted. "Dad?"

 

We turned and saw why. Brendan didn't need to explain, but he did.

"Russell's having flossy problems."

o 0 O 0 o

The beach was lovely. It was small, and the u-shaped enclosure extended into the sea, providing a private bathing area.

 

We placed some towels and set up appropriate shade, then settled to enjoy the gentle sun, watching the sea birds skimming the surface of the ocean. Our first summer holiday.

The first couple of hours was glorious and I suspect I dozed through at least a quarter of that. Cecile nudged me awake.

"Wake up dozy," she smiled. "Brendan says he has a question."

I blinked and gave him my attention. "What is it, son?"

 

"Hi dad. I was thinking about my story about Michael..."

"The sea serpent one?"

"Yes. It was because I was looking out to sea and it got me wondering. Could there be any serpents out there?"

"Shouldn't think so. Did you want to go for a swim? I'll come down and watch you if you do."

"Right..." 

He seemed unsure, but he is half Ivory. Sometimes I could see a smattering of his uncle Rowan in him, and there was a noticeable growth in his tendency to play jokes. Inoffensive amusing ones, granted. Was he setting me up? I thought I'd play along.

"Come on, chum - what's troubling you?"

"I thought I saw something in the sea."

"Oh," I said, surreptitiously winking at Cecile. "Then maybe Michael has escaped the underground river network."

Beverley giggled.

Brendan shook his head. "No dad, I made Michael up, remember? I'm not joking, I promise. I really did think I saw something in the sea a few minutes ago." 

We all looked, but I didn’t expect to see anything. But then there was movement beneath the gentle waves. Something was approaching the surface.

 

Cecile took hold of the children. "Do you see it, Jack?"

And then they emerged...

 

o 0 O 0 o

We weren't the first to settle on this particular section of beach. A family had arrived earlier in the morning. The Neptune sea otter family had been enjoying a lengthy swim. 

 

As they left the water, Narissa smiled and pointed towards us. Caspian waved.

"Hello, Cecile, Jackson, all of you. I hope we didn't startle you."

 

I rubbed Brendan's ears. "This one thought you might be sea serpents," I remarked but - although he gave me a sidelong glance - my boy said nothing. 

Young Shelley ambled forward, tiny Sandy by her side. "Maybe we are. What do you think, Sandy?"

Sandy made a subdued roaring noise.

This clearly intrigued Russell as he stared at young Sandy for a few seconds. And then he attempted to echo the sound.

 

Everyone laughed. The Neptunes settled down next to us and we chatted a long while. 

 

Eventually, Caspian suggested we get something to eat from the Hamburger Wagon. As we weren't day trippers, Cecile had brought some food in the camper van to tide us over whilst we were away from home. Of course that didn't prevent us treating ourselves from other culinary establishments. We were on holiday after all.

Yes, I know it wasn't an extravagant summer holiday, but that's not us. We had nice weather. Decent food. A comfortable dwelling. With the unexpected addition of the Neptunes we had enjoyable company and conversation. A little controlled silliness from the children. Good memories for the family.

What more could we ask?

 

Well, Beverley had a suggestion. "You do realise we didn't ask Dolly Dale about the passengers' secret mission? Maybe after we've finished at the wagon we could see her again." 

"Pretend to be customers?" I said, perfectly straight faced.

 

Brendan started to open his mouth but I winked at him. A wide smile was his response.

The Neptunes were totally confused with this talk of secret missions, so Cecile took it upon herself to explain. Sort of.

"There are rumours that some of the bus passengers are not here to simply enjoy the sea and sun. It may be that they are searching for a sea serpent called Michael."

Confirmation that it's fun to be daft, sometimes.

o 0 O 0 o