Finley and the Critsberg Oktoberfest

Merlin and I had called in at the Bear Pit Club to have a snack and a mug of the club's citrus shandy. Part of the appeal of these visits is to see if the landlord, Finley Osbourne, has any new tall tales to entertain us.

On this occasion, vibrating lips from a noisy sigh suggested Finley had something else on his mind.

 

"Problem, Finn?" I asked.

"Uhuh. Oktoberfest," he said, clearly unhappy.

Bertram Bamboo, drinking nearby, overheard.

"We're getting an Oktoberfest?" he said, hope bordering on excitement.

 

"Not us," said Finley. 

Bertram's shoulders slumped. "Aw, shame. Good ales, Charlie Furbanks with his hot dog van, pretzels from Appleblossom’s bakery... It would've been good."

 

"No Bertie, it's being held at Critsberg."

"Not too far then," said the panda. "I'll have a word with Charlie and see if he's going. Maybe he can give me a lift."

  

Bertam thinks...

 

Bertram thinks further...

 

Where is Critsberg?. Well, if one were to cross Mellowdene bridge and take the road towards JollyOakFields, about halfway there you would pass an area of sparse woodland on your left bordering a country lane. This leads to the small village that is Critsberg. A few years ago the inhabitants decided to try and raise the profile of their village, holding a few events ostensibly to attract newcomers to join their population. An Oktoberfest was probably one such event.

Why would this be a problem to Finley? I asked him.

"It's to do with Mellowdene Day approaching. Did you know it's five years since the last formal celebration?"

"Is it? Oh, I suppose it is. It was the time Newton did a little presentation about how Mellowdene got its irrigation."

"Yes. Well, I had it in mind it was only four years ago. I only realised my error this morning, that I would need to arrange a beer tent and a large supply of ales."

Merlin nodded sagely. "The Oktoberfest would give you supply problems."

"Spot on. I contacted Marcus Tan at the brewery but the organisers at Critsberg have reserved all his extra stock. I've got my regular order for the Bear Pit but by all accounts Marcus won't be able to add sufficient ale to his stock before Mellowdene Day."

"That's unfortunate."

"I've only got myself to blame. Marcus gets a finite amount of hops from his wife's family. The Huntingdons grow a decent sized crop but they can only harvest a certain amount."

"So what are you going to do if the brewery can't help you with enough ale?"

"Look further afield, I suppose."

"Does it have to be ale?" asked Merlin. "Horace Honeybear might help you produce mead. The sea cats should have access to grog. Tanner Blackberry might have enough apples for cider."

"Potcheen," said Bertram. "Get some potatoes."

Finley inclined his head, presumably considering this. "Marcus is making a delivery today. I could ask him if he could do that."

 

An accented voice cut through. "Oi could do what, Finn?"

Marcus Tan had entered the room. Finley summarised our conversation and Marcus shook his head.

"T'would be nice, " - he pronounced the word as 'noyss' - "but the equipment is different. Oi'd need stills to make potcheen. Sorry, Finn. It's a shame, though. My Oktoberfest contact really wanted more variety than the beers oi makes."

"Really?" commented Merlin.

"'Tis roight. It'd help you, Finn, if oi could've obloiged 'em. You could've had half of the beers oi've reserved for 'em."

Merlin glanced at me before rejoining the conversation. "Chunglewood," he said.

We all turned to look at him and he went on to answer our unasked question.

"Because they brew their own drink from a mix of vegetables and other edible plants. Owen Quiller calls it whoopsuckle juice..."

"Good name," said Bertram.

"I suppose so. Owen had a flask of the stuff and he have me a little to sample. It was... very pleasant. Anyway, Owen told me they make a lot more than they can consume. The surplus alcohol is used for heaters and other equipment they need to power. Still drinkable nonetheless." 

"What are you thinking, Merle?" I prompted.

"If we could ask them to trade their excess whoopsuckle juice for some equipment that wouldn't need the alcohol to run..."

Marcus nodded. "...and, provoided it's decent, oi can replace maybe half of the Oktoberfest beer with this other stuff. It would help you too, Finn." 

"We'd need to give it a good taste test," said Bertram.

We all looked at him and he had the good grace to laugh. "Well, I'm an aficionado of fine beverages." 

Nodding slowly, Marcus turned towards Finley. "Speaking of foin beverages, Bevan Acaster is waiting in the wagon outsoid. Are we okay to unload the barrels?"

 

"You are, pal," said Finley. "The store room's unlocked."

"Roight. We'll get on."

With that, Mellowdene's much appreciated brewer made his exit to join Bevan.

 

 

Our thoughts returned to the promise of whoopsuckle juice.  

I wondered how the trade might be approached. "I'd recommend having a word with John Silk to see how best to do business with the Chunglewood people."

"I agree," said Merlin. "Jackson's been there and I've had extensive discussions with Owen. Although it might be only be a one-off deal, you'd want to make a good impression so that other trading opportunities are looked upon favourably."  

"Excellent point," mused Finley, "And if all goes well it would make my contribution to Mellowdene Day more of an Oktoberfest."

"Novemberfest," said a voice. It was George Mulberry. He had been sipping his ale, quietly paying attention to the conversation. 

He smiled at our confusion, adding, "'Cause Mellowdene Day is in November."

A fair point.

o 0 O 0 o

o 0 O 0 o

  

Flash Gopher and the Micro Rays

It was Saturday morning and my sister-in-law Eliza had gone to visit her brother Denzel over at Butterglove Lodge. She goes across every couple of weeks to give Denzel and Samantha a day off from their quads. On this occasion, Cecile, Beverley and little Russell had accompanied her. Merlin was elsewhere in our house leaving me with Brendan, Orton and Snorker.

Brendan was enthusing about one of his Christmas presents, an activity book tied in to his favourite television show. Yes, you know the one. Flash Gopher. He was reading snippets aloud, showing Orton some of the themed puzzles and the prospective craft work to create facsimile props as used by the actors. Orton began by simply showing polite interest (although co-opted into the game, it's more Brendan and Lucky Snow-Warren's infatuation) but I could see the lad becoming infected with Brendan's enthusiasm. 

"Look at this," said Brendan. "Plans for Flash's jump-car. Just think if Mink the Muckiless had one like it..."

 

"Mm," said Orton. "Does it say how it flies?"

"No. I suppose some bits need to stay secret."

The conversation was interrupted with the entrance of Merlin. He looked almost as excited as Brendan.

 

"I've got to show this to someone. Come through to the Cauldron."

He disappeared back through the door and the boys looked at me. A brief pause and they scrambled to follow him.

 

"Coming, Pappa!" Orton called.

 

I followed more sedately, although my curiosity was rapidly mounting.

o 0 O 0 o

The Cauldron was the nickname for Merlin's kitchen. When he wasn't reading or engaged in librarian duties, my brother liked to be inventive in the culinary arts. He would share his creations - always tasty and something eagerly anticipated. 

Butterglove House has been in our family for generations and currently both Merlin and I live here with our families. Being such a close family we have no real issues living together but we had to admit scheduling the use of a single kitchen and bathroom was a challenge at times. 

Now, there have been modifications and extensions to the house over the years. The most recent was prompted by a suggestion from Merlin. We agreed the idea to extend the rear of the house to add an extra kitchen made sense, and that is how the Cauldron came into being. 

 

Henry-Lloyd Construction were engaged and Merlin played a large part in specifying the design, liaising with their senior architect Hector Corntop. Hector had seniority following the resignation of his friend and colleague - Cecile's brother, Rowan Ivory.

Bamboo Builders did the actual building with Bertram Bamboo liaising with Henry Corntop. Diego Woolly and Slick Slydale were the primary bricklayers and were heavily involved throughout the construction.

 

Milton Chocolate was engaged to do the decorating.

Mice and Clean - represented by the Hazelwood brothers - dealt with the additional water supply and laying of extra sewer pipes.

Perry Babblebrook did all the internal plumbing. In fact he's done it twice - once when the kitchen was built and again when Merlin and Eliza decided that the original sink unit was too basic. The second time they decided to site the replacement beneath the window figuring it would be nice to view the wildlife whilst they were washing up.

 

Like our kitchen, the Cauldron does have a table for eating away from the dining room. In Merlin's case, this proves ideal to give him a little privacy with Eliza. Also, since Orton joined the family, time there helped him bond with the couple who would become his surrogate parents.

It has freed up some space in the dining room too. I'm not claiming sole use (Merlin and Eliza eat there when they invite guests) but it is less cramped than it would be now that our children have grown.  

With Merlin's excitement I expected either a new gadget or the sharing of an brand new culinary delight.

o 0 O 0 o

Merlin took us through to his kitchen and we saw there was someone waiting. Our brother, my twin - Newton Butterglove.

"Newt," I said in greeting.

"Jackson. Boys," he said in response. 

Merlin was beaming, an arm extended to one of the worktops. "Look what Newton has given me as a belated Christmas gift. It's a microwave!"

"It's for you and Eliza, and it's from Audrey as well as me," said Newton gathering his tools. "I've installed it into your secondary power ring." 

 

"Yes, yes," said Merlin dismissively, then realised he was being impolite. "Sorry, Newt. Thank you." He then addressed me. "But isn't it great? It is the first one in Mellowdene."

"It's SRG approved," explained Newton. "We should see more become available, but I thought you'd like one as soon as the Research Group okay-ed the technology."

"What does it do?" I asked.

"It's a type of oven that generates microwaves," said Merlin. "It will help with my veg prep and all sorts. It cooks things faster too."

Newton smiled, happy at our older brother's reaction. And yet, I was distracted by some rapid whispering from the boys - mainly Brendan.

"What are you two whispering about?" I said.

Brendan turned, wide-eyed. "It's the micro rays thing. I've been reading about it in my book."

"Your Flash Gopher book?"

Brendan began to get quite animated. "Yes! Micro rays are what powers Flash's ray pistol. The one that makes people good. Pyoo pyoo and he wins against the army of Mink the Muckiness. Dr Skunkov invented a generator to charge the pistol. And here it is in the Cauldron."

In this longstanding role play game, Lucky Snow-Warren adopted the role of Flash Gopher and Brendan played the evil Mink.

"I was telling him that it's a microwave," said Orton. "Waves not rays. Different."

"And yet light can be considered as both waves and rays," commented Newton.

"Probably not helping," I muttered, aware of the potential of Brendan's imagination.

"You see?" said Brendan. "I am Mink the Muckiness. If I can sabotage the micro ray generator, then Flash won't have his power over me."

"You won't be playing with the microwave, Brendan," I said firmly.

"Oh, okay. I guess I won't need to. I just need to stop Flash getting to it to recharge his pistol. That's how it works. The book says so."

Merlin looked at Orton. "And who are you supposed to be in all of this?

"Mink's advisor, General Octon," said Orton sheepishly.

"Then advise Mink not to play in my kitchen."

"Looking at Brendan's book, it seems Mink doesn't always take advice."

Newton stepped forward and aimed a power drill at Brendan.

 

"Pyoo pyoo. You've been goodified."

Brendan stared, confused by this uncharacteristic behaviour by my boffin of a brother. "Uncle Newt?"

"Also known as Professor Newtov, colleague of Dr Hans Skunkov. Henceforth you will be known as Mink the Mild Mannered."

Orton laughed. "As your advisor I advise you to give up, mighty Mink."

From the side of my mouth I whispered to my twin, "How do you know about Flash Gopher? Are you a secret fan?"

"Hardly. The Sylvanian Research Group provided technical advisers to the show's production company. I went on set a couple of times. Don't tell Brendan."

Brendan had turned to leave, his shoulders slumped. I saw him pause, smile at Orton and say something. I only caught a few words but it explained the smile.

"...effect is only temporary."

o 0 O 0 o