Living Coral

Living Coral. That's the colour, supposedly. Although the sun may have taken its toll over the years - and that's quite a few years.

I'm talking about our sofa. Our settee. Couch. Whatever you want to call it. I'm not sure what the proper name is, but it's been in our living room since shortly after I was married. And it wasn't exactly new then.

The thing is, Cecile loves it. Snuggling down in the accommodating upholstery, a glass of milk and a squishy almond cake by her side, delving into a good novel - well, she is in her element.

For some time I wasn't quite as enamoured with this coral couch. Why? A bit of history.

The Buttergloves were one of the first four families who settled in the area many years ago. They actually camped nearer to the foothills of the mountains, closer to Sweetwater Lake that is nestled there, hidden from casual sight. The lake still provides our water, but the decision was made to start building our village further down in the calm, sheltered valley that is served by the river. Hence Mellowdene.

What has this to do with the sofa, you may ask? Well, being long-standing families in the village, the current Buttergloves traditionally live in the houses built by our ancestors. My brother Merlin and I live in different parts of the house in which we were raised. My cousins Biddie, Samantha and Jonathan all live in the house in which they were raised. Newton lives in a brand new house funded by his job, but my other brother has always gone his own way. The point is, when I married Cecile, she agreed to move into the house that had been in my family for generations. This was on the proviso that she would bring a selection of her family belongings. That was fair enough. The coral settee was one of the bigger items - and it was not in pristine condition even then.

Some years later I suggested we buy some new furniture.

"Fine," she said. "Just so long as there's room for my sofa."

It wasn't exactly an argument. A frank exchange of views, some people call it. The conclusion was that the settee stayed. I didn't mind too much, but I was a little confused. Cecile is the sensible one. The common sense one. I'm the arty creative one lucky enough to earn a living doing that sort of stuff. Cecile is wonderfully supportive, the one who budgets our money and ensures our children get fed. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating; I do my bit. But Cecile is the insightful practical one. I couldn't understand why the sofa was important. I asked her, and her reply was that helpful phrase that has infuriated many a husband.

"Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

There's nothing useful gained by rising to this accusation. I dropped the issue, thinking I might find answers elsewhere. The children were the first port of call.

"We've got to look after coral. It's good for the envileoment," offered Brendan. "Miss Wildwood told us in class." He had missed the point, but the fact he was referring to his school lessons was a positive.

"Maybe it's an antique," suggested Beverley, reading a magazine.

"Mmm," said Russell, demolishing a bowl of orange segments.

Clearly I had to look further afield. I considered her old school friend Doris Seabreeze but she was elsewhere in Sylvania in the years immediately preceding my wedding. What other friends did she have who wouldn't immediately report back to Cecile? Then again, would it matter if they did? If nothing else it would show I was making an effort.

My next idea was more promising. Marion Brighteyes had been Cecile's Matron of Honour at our wedding.

I caught up with her at her workplace - the Blackcurrant Café.

After a little small talk I homed in to the subject that had brought me there.

"Marion, do you remember that coral-coloured sofa that Cecile is so fond of?"

She pondered a moment before smiling, momentarily closing her eyes and nodding at a memory.

"Oh yes. The one that she and Rowan helped their dad make. What about it?"

I had forgotten that Cecile's dad used to make furniture. The sofa was only one of a few such items she had brought with her, but if this was the only one that involved working with her brother, maybe Rowan was the key. I returned my attention to Marion.

"Well, it's still going strong," I replied, somewhat lamely. I beamed at Marion's slightly confused expression and continued with some other small talk for a while. As I was leaving I expected she was wondering what all that was about, but I didn't care - I believed I had the answer.

I knew Burdock Rowan Ivory before I'd met his sister. In fact, he introduced her to me. Whilst it might not have been love at first sight, there was a definite attraction between Cecile Ivory and this young songwriter. At first, Rowan was naturally a little protective towards her - after their parents had passed, they had watched out for one another - but when he realised the potential depth of our feelings, he became supportive. As the months passed, Rowan watched us grow closer. When it came to the wedding, Rowan had given her away, bringing her down the aisle so that we could be joined.

Maybe it was seeing Cecile settled that gave Rowan the opportunity to fulfil his suppressed ambition. To go travelling.

When he left Mellowdene, we didn't know how long he would be away. Months became years and there was little communication from him, then none at all. He never was a big letter writer. I suppose he figured that his sister was settled and happy, and words on paper were not that important. And because he didn't stay in one place too long, we didn't know where he was.

So maybe the coral sofa was Cecile's emotional contact with her brother. A strong memory of happy times when they worked together with their father.

After this revelation I didn't pursue replacing that particular piece of furniture. Even when a spring poked me unceremoniously in my bobtail I didn't complain - too much.

Brendan thought it hilarious, of course.

Cecile and I made the sofa repairs together and I think it brought us even closer.

o 0 O 0 o

A couple of weeks ago, the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. On the stoop there was a smiling rabbit, a small suitcase by his side. It was Rowan Ivory.

"Close your mouth, Jackson. Unless you're going to sing me a song?"

Bringing him inside, Cecile cried when she saw him and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. Her brother was back in Mellowdene. We didn't know how long he would stay, but for now Cecile was gloriously happy.

Conversation flowed. We heard tales of some of the places he'd been, and apparently he ended up in Vandykeville. And then the subject turned to Cecile.

"And what about you?" said Rowan. "Two children is it?"

"Three. And you'd know that if you'd kept in touch, you toad," she laughed. "Russell is our youngest. He's at nursery. He doesn't talk much yet, but he's an active little bee."

I chipped in. "And Brendan's our middle one. Energetic with an active imagination."

Rowan laughed. "I look forward to meeting my nephews. They sound great." He looked at Cecile with a raised brow. "And how is my niece? Did you call her Coral?"

Cecile actually blushed. "No. We called her Beverley."

I looked at her but she avoided my gaze. And then the realization crept upon me as the coral sofa caught my eye, screaming for attention.

That evening, a couple of months after the wedding. Two bunnies, very much in love. We didn't make it to the bedroom.

Beverley. Our living coral.

o 0 O 0 o

The Seabreeze at Mellowdene

A few older residents will remember the Columbus family who lived here some time ago. Ferdinand Columbus and his wife Vesper lived at Columbus House overlooking the river, and they were proud when their young daughter Doris earned a place at Leveret Hall College at the east of Sylvania.

It was a surprise when the couple decided to rent out their house on short-term leases and move out of the village to join their daughter. It was another surprise when, years later, Doris returned to Mellowdene with a husband and three children, taking up residence in her old family home.

It emerged that her parents had decided to remain on the coast, but it was unclear why Doris had returned - particularly since her newer family appeared to be influenced by all things nautical. Indeed, her married name was Columbus-Seabreeze, although the family often foreshortened it to Seabreeze for convenience.

They appeared to be quite wealthy but their affluence had no bearing on their down-to-earth friendly nature. Doris had been at school with Cecile and they rekindled their friendship. Lawrence was a jovial chap but astute when it came to business. Most of his dealings were related to nautical concerns; having earned money in shipping, he had shares in a franchise of seafood restaurants too.

Once established in Mellowdene, he helped renovate the docks, and kept his pleasure cruiser The Marita May there in sight of Columbus House. To the inland waterway system that terminated at the northern boundary of Mellowdene, he brought a trio of canal boats, and these provided a useful connection to the north, out of Mellowdene County and towards the mountain pass that led through Pinnisula past Acorn Valley to the north coast.

The odd thing was, despite their sailor suits and clear love for the sea, they spent little time on their boats. The Marita May was captained by Horatio Seadog on their behalf, and the canal boats were crewed by a range of critters from along the route of the waterways. The Rose of Sylvania II tended to be run by a friendly group of hill cats, some of whom elected to take rooms in Mellowdene when they were in the area.

My curiosity was stirred but I didn't say anything - Doris was Cecile's friend after all, so it made sense that she would find out. Except she didn't pursue the matter.

"Doris will tell us if they want us to know," she said, and no amount of wheedling would change her mind. I gave up.

o 0 O 0 o

When Lawrence and Doris invited us out to a fancy meal at their sea food restaurant we were to find out. Cecile and I dressed in our posh clothes and Merlin and Eliza were happy to babysit. As we lined up to pass muster Beverley said we looked smart and even Brendan agreed. At least, I think his comment that his mummy looked like a lovely juicy fruit was a complement. Russell's attention was elsewhere, but in any case he was too young to express an opinion!

We set off and arrived at the Seaside Restaurant for 7:30. I always thought it unusual that Mellowdene had a seaside restaurant when we were nowhere near the side of the sea. Sitting whilst awaiting our meal, Lawrence explained.

"I always loved sea food," he said, "and I thought it unfair that inland communities should miss out."

"People seem to like it," I commented.

"True," said Doris, "but probably not every night. Once or twice a week, it would seem more special, and there'd be more custom."

"I can understand that," said Cecile. "Are you noticing a drop in custom, then?"

"Transporting fresh fish from the coast every day isn't cost effective," explained Doris, "but designated seafood days would solve that."

"There would still be freshwater fish available the rest of the week," said Lawrence, "but without seafood continually on the menu the restaurant would still need to diversify to take up the slack."

"And that's why we wanted to invite you to a special meal tonight," said Doris. "We are selling the business and it changes hands tomorrow."

I looked at her, then looked at Cecile.

Lawrence laughed easily - but not particularly quietly. "Your face!" he chuckled.

"You're not losing a restaurant," said Doris, "as the Hazelwoods are taking over. They'll maintain the connections with the seafood franchise, but they'll expand to take advantage of their independence."

"I've tasted Basil Hazelwood's food. People will love it," said Lawrence. "And there's the possibility they'll rename the place "The Mousehole."

"You seem to be coming less nautical every week," I laughed.

And then I saw Cecile's face. She wasn't laughing.

o 0 O 0 o

Fortunately the Seabreezes were not offended (and despite Cecile's opinion, I saw no reason why they should be).

Doris put her paw on Cecile's arm. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Cecile. I know we appear to be distancing ourselves from the sea. There is an explanation. Just one that most people may not understand."

Lawrence nodded. "We still love the sea. It's why we dress the way we do. Why we involve ourselves with ships and stuff. Selling the restaurant is purely for economic reasons."

Doris continued. "It's just that we had a rather traumatic experience, and we felt that we could best handle it by moving away from the ocean."

"At least for now," mumbled Lawrence.

"That's right," said Doris, fixing him with a stare. "We agreed, Larry."

Cecile looked at her schoolfriend with concern, reaching out to her. "Whatever is the matter, Doris?"

Lawrence nodded and Doris began. "We were sailing east of Sylvania, far beyond the fishing grounds...

"We were bearing southeast and passed the coral reef and nipped through the gap of... What was it, Larry?"

Lawrence took up the tale. "The name's not important - it won't mean anything to them. The point is that soon afterwards I slowed down the ship as we encountered a light sea mist, and then I realised that we were further out than we'd ever been before."

I remembered Horatio Seadog a few months ago, entertaining Brendan and Beverley by telling them a moderately scary story. It related - slightly - to the Snow Queen myth, and the children had been wide-eyed, allowing their ice creams to melt, as they listened with rapt attention.

"Not outside the Ring of Sylvania?" I said in an unintentionally hoarse whisper. I coughed to clear my throat.

"Fairy stories, we thought," said Lawrence. "The first sign was with Nessie, our youngest. Despite her age, Nessie is a great talker..."

"You know that, Cessie," said Doris.

Cecile agreed. "She's only a few months older than Russell, but she talks like a little old woman."

"She's my clever little one," said Lawrence. "Anyway, she started squeaking like a small animal. It was... distressing."

Doris shook her head, reliving the memory. "And whilst we were attending to her, Tristan and Morgan dropped on all fours and started doing it too. It was scary, Cecile. Our children weren't acting like people at all. And then my head started feeling fuzzy..."

"When Doris started acting funny too, I knew I needed medical help. I turned the ship and started back towards the coast."

Doris sniffed. "My head started to clear, and shortly afterwards the children started to cry. They were better, but didn't understand what had happened. I hugged them until we reached shore."

"The rules about venturing too far out to sea are there for a reason," said Lawrence. Most sailors comply without question, so they won't have encountered the... phenomenon."

Doris lowered her voice. "I don't know whether that part of the Snow Queen legend is true. That she made a magical place where crittizens could thrive but that only extended so far - but it meant I wanted us as far away from the ocean as we could be."

Lawrence regarded his wife with concern. "There could have been another explanation - something borne on the sea mist, some medical explanation - but whatever it was, we knew we needed a break from the sea."

Doris smiled at her husband. "So I came home to Mellowdene. The children are making more friends. We have a lovely river, access to a well-maintained canal network, a lake to the south..."

"And good sea food. And it's about to be served. Let's dig in."

The smell of lobster in a seafood sauce wafted towards me. Hopefully the meal would lead my imagination to a calmer place. Away from the thought that the Ring of Sylvania truly exists. For the suggestion that there could be a boundary between being Sylvanians or beasts - that is an uncomfortable thought.

Cecile was hugging her schoolfriend. And Mellowdene hugged us all.

o 0 O 0 o

The incident left me feeling decidely unsettled. I decided to have a word with Horatio Seadog the following day. It emerged he was aware of the Seabreeze's experience.

"It's your Mellowdene upbringing," he said, scratching his whiskers. "Doris remembered the tales she had been raised with, and with the odd things happening on the Marita May, they scared her. It's natural."

"But something did happen."

"Sure it did, man. But there's a logical explanation as well as the weirdy one."

He paused for effect, much has he had done when entertaining the children. "Snakeweed." He drew winding shapes in the air. "It's a type of seaweed that grows near to some corals. It has pods that can get a bit gassy. Under the right conditions they can break free and float to the surface. Usually, they pop and the weed sinks again. The gas usually disperses quick like, but it can linger if there's a sea mist."

"And that affected the Seabreezes?"

"Can't say for certain; I weresn't there," he said, "but it can affect young lungs. Not permanent, like, but it doesn't do to hang about."

"And Doris?"

"Bit of a panic attack, I guess."

I sighed. "You've put my mind to rest, Horatio. And with you being an experienced sailor..."

"Glad to help, Jacky boy. Them sailors' guidelines are there for a reason. Snakeweed's only one o' the things you have to watch for." He stretched. "Anyway, if that's it, I've got to see Amos about some cargo that's due."

As he made to move, he delved into his pocket and brought out a small bag. "Some toffees for your little 'uns from Uncle Seadog."

"Thanks, Horatio." As he reached the door, I called after him. "You've sailed beyond the Ring of Sylvania, haven't you?"

"You've heard I was a bit of an animal in my younger days, eh?" He winked, and then he was gone.

o 0 O 0 o

Jingle Sells

The first inkling I had was when I was walking home after taking Russell to nursery. A gentle breeze carried a little tune towards me. It was whistled slightly off key, but it seemed familiar. I glanced towards the whistler. It was Elma Mulberry doing some work on his motorbike, oblivious to the rest of the world. Shrugging, I continued my journey.

A couple of blocks further on, two young hamsters passed by me - Jane and George Hamilton. As usual, little Georgie was protected from the sun by his enormous hat. However, this time there was more than his pale little face emerging from beneath the brim. The same melody, hummed but more tuneful than Elma's whistling. I frowned. Why did it sound so familiar?

I walked on, wracking my brain, and I was getting closer to remembering. It sounded like...

From behind a garden wall a voice sang out, punctuated by grunts of activity. "...the brightest, micest smiles I've seen..."

Not like. It was a jingle that I'd written, together with Christian Snow-Warren, a few years ago.

The singer straightened so that they were visible above the wall. It was Perry Babblebrook doing a spot of gardening. Catching sight of me, he nodded a greeting. "Smashing day for a bit of weeding, Jackson. That bit o' rain last night has loosened the soil nicely."

"Good to know, Perry. Keeping well?"

"Can't complain. Can't complain." His attention was caught by something by his feet. "Well, must get on. Give my best to the family." He disappeared again and the singing resumed. Our jingle.

Now a job of song-writing doesn't guarantee a steady income, so Chris and I used to earn some money writing some advertising jingles for a few products. This particular jingle was for a brand of toothpaste, and it became quite popular when they used to play it on the radio.

"Squirrels, hamsters, mice and rats,
Need strong teeth - those are the facts.
The brightest micest smiles I've seen
Are fresh and clean from Rodentene"

Corny, I know, but coupled with a catchy tune it paid quite a few bills, making it a worthwhile endeavour. But that was over three years ago. Had the radio station started playing it again?

o 0 O 0 o

Back home, Cecile called from the kitchen. "In here, Jack. Chris has come to see you."

Entering, I saw my work-chum sitting at the table, enjoying a coffee. He smiled when he saw me.

"Hi mate. You'll never guess why I'm here."

"Rodentene?"

His face froze for a moment, then relaxed with his lop-sided smile. "You've seen the advert too."

"Television?"

"Yes. The family were round at Clary's last night and we were all watching a variety show on CCV. There was a commercial break and there it was. Some animated mice advertising Rodentene toothpaste, complete with our jingle. That was a surprise, I'm telling you. The children thought it hilarious."

"Calico Crittervision playing our jingle? Yes. That's... unexpected."

Cecile put her head on one side and regarded me. "Especially since the Rodentene people didn't let you know. Or pay you."

It was true. Trust Cecile to remember that we had been paid for radio broadcasts, not television. Her other point was well made too. Not so much the makers of Rodentene, but certainly the Tell 'em Sell 'em agency should have contacted us. They had been the intermediary that had created the radio advertisements using our jingle.

"It's early enough to catch the switchboard," I said, "I'll phone them."

Whilst Mellowdene has a small telephone network that allows direct contact between local households and businesses, long distance calls to other parts of Sylvania require that we go through a switchboard. This is only available at certain times in daylight hours, and switchboard duties are shared between four residents.

Having located the number for the advertising agency, I dialled the code for the switchboard. Mabel Periwinkle was on duty.

"Hello, Jackson. How are Cecile and the kiddies?"

"Hello, Mrs Periwinkle. they're..."

"Mabel."

"Mabel. Thank you. They're fine."

"Good. I saw your brother Newton the other day. Audrey will be pleased he's back from working away. And it's good he's here to help with the twins."

"Yes. It's nice he's home. Now I need to..."

"And wasn't the Melting good this year? I did enjoy hear Bernard sing. And you on the accordion, of course. Mack commented on your ability."

"Yes. Thank you." I paused, waiting in case she was going to impart more village news. But today she was less talkative than usual.

"Now I mustn't let you keep me talking. You'll be wanting to telephone someone."

I gave her the details and listened to the whirrs and clicks as she tried to connect me. I heard muffled voices as she talked to her counterpart in  Willowbank County. Eventually she spoke to me again.

"I'm sorry, Jackson. That number is not available. The company are no longer there."

o 0 O 0 o

"Our deal was with Tell 'em Sell 'em," I said, after relating to Chris and Cecile the details of the phone call. "I'm not clear how someone else could produce the advert without their involvement."

"And it was the same arrangement of the jingle, albeit re-recorded," said Chris.

"I suppose we could call Rodentene," I said, thinking aloud.

"What about Ashley?" said Chris.

Ashley Maces (the business mind behind the Mice & Clean waste management company) had put us onto Tell 'em Sell 'em when we were seeking an advertising agency. Maybe he knew what had happened to them. A couple of phone calls and we located him at Minestrone House where he has a small apartment.

"I haven't needed to deal with them recently," he said, "but I remember reading that they had moved to Oak Tree Meadows to be nearer the television companies. Oh, and they'd changed their name to  TESE Advertising to present a more professional front."

"Thanks, Ashley," I said, "that's really useful."

"Are you back writing jingles, then?" said Ashley, "I thought the songs you wrote on Lionel Grande's last two records would have steered you away from those."

"No new jingles, but Rodentene toothpaste are unexpectedly using our old one again."

"Ah. Don't use it myself. I've used natural products for years and see no need to change."

"Well, as I said, thanks for your help Ashley."

o 0 O 0 o

Back to Mabel Periwinkle, and with a little work she was able to connect me to TESE Advertising. Unexpectedly, I was put through to the appropriate department quite quickly.

I spoke to someone called Bernard Sellars. He knew my name and from the start of the conversation he was very apologetic.

"Mr Butterglove," he said, "I'm so pleased you have contacted us. We have had some issues here at TESE and we have been unable to locate you. I can only apologise that it's taken so long."

He went on to explain that the move to Oak Tree Meadows had not been entirely successful. Some files had been misplaced - hopefully temporarily - during transportation, and our contact details had been amongst them.

On top of this, Rodentene had been in touch to relaunch their prime tooth-care product using television. They had already engaged animators, but needed us to supply the jingle, and the target date was fixed.

"We had a decision. We could either decline, or to go ahead in the hope that we could strike a deal that you would find satisfactory when we were able to contact you."

"And you couldn't really decline," I said, "as they are a major client."

"I'm grateful you understand," said Bernard. "I hope that when I tell you the deal, it will help compensate for the delay in communications."

o 0 O 0 o

When Bernard Sellars ended the call, I was standing immobile for a good minute, phone receiver still in my hand, replaying the deal. It wasn't what I expected at all.

With the radio advertisements, Tell 'em Sell 'em had agreed a one-off flat fee for our work - generous at the time. With the new television advertisements, TESE Advertising had secured a considerably larger fee, but had also managed to get additional small payments for each showing of the commercial. The longer and more widespread the campaign, the more we would get. It seemed the Rodentene people really liked our little tune.

Bernard said that he would be contacting Hugo Trunk, manager of the Mellowdene Bank, once our phone call had concluded, so that payments could commence immediately.

o 0 O 0 o

It's nice when your work is appreciated - whether it's Lionel Grande having a hit record with one of your songs, or a toothpaste company who pay over the odds because they're intent on using a little tune you've written.

Hearing your songs whistled, hummed or sung on the streets of your village gives one a warm feeling. And when your own children raise their voices in song...

"Squelching hankies, nice and wet,
Is it snot or is it sweat?.
It's red and glows with such a sheen
Don't rub your nose with Rodentene!"


There's no way one can become big-headed in Mellowdene..

Telly Parties

There aren't too many television sets in Mellowdene. Most families seem to be happy enough with the news and music supplied with their radiograms. Some are wary of the new technology, some don't see the need, and a few think it could be a bad influence.

At the moment I suppose I fall somewhere in the second camp, although I'm not averse to being convinced otherwise. I periodically check the TV schedules in the Mellowdene Examiner, but - compared to the radio schedules - I feel neither the STC nor the CCV (the two channels we could receive) offer much extra.

My boy Brendan would probably disagree, but that's probably because he is often infatuated with a particular TV serial. I know Brendan's infatuations are frequently short-lived so his occasional pleas of "Why can't we get a telly?" can be diverted in the knowledge that his attention will be redirected before too long.

In any case, Lucky Snow-Warren's family own a television and they are happy for Lucky to hold a weekly "Telly Party" to which he can invite his pals. As Lucky's best friend, Brendan is invited and he naturally looks forward to this. We show our appreciation by inviting Lucky to eat with us beforehand.

Telly Parties have become small community events and seem to encourage friendships through a shared interest. A bit like book clubs, I suppose.

o 0 O 0 o

One afternoon recently, Brendan and Lucky were playing a dress up game. Lucky had some sort of dome over his head meant to represent a space helmet. Brendan had a false beard and he had borrowed some fancy clothes that made him look like a sideshow magician.

"Ptoo, ptoo!" said Lucky, pointing his finger at Brendan.

"Ha-harr!" said Brendan, "My magic aura melts your raygun stuff!"

"Noooo!"

I called them over.

"Who are you supposed to be, then? Bunny Rogers in the 25th Century?"

Brendan laughed. "No, dad. Lucky's playing Flash Gopher. I'm Mink the Merciless."

"You're the baddie?"

"Yes!" He turned to Lucky and growled. "Gurrr! I am the baddest man in the galaxy. You are in my power. Yield before me, Flash Gopher!"

"Never!" said Lucky,

Their play was interrupted when Beverley popped her head around the doorway. Upon seeing the role play between her brother and Lucky, she rolled her eyes. "Mum says to go and wash your paws 'cause tea is ready."

Lucky removed his space helmet and we made a move. Walking along, Lucky whispered to me. "Is it true that Brendan had an uncle called Flash who died?"

I nodded. "My cousin Bobbie was married to a rabbit called Flash Bobtail. Shortly after Biddie was born he accidentally fell from a rooftop. It's very sad."

"Yes, it is. Maybe that's why Brendan chose to play Mink rather than Flash Gopher."

I looked at the little white rabbit by my side and smiled. Such insight for one so young.

o 0 O 0 o

The meal was over. It would soon be time for the Telly Party and Flash Gopher and the Purple Moon of Saturn. As the boys moved to depart, Lucky turned to Cecile, his face suddenly serious. "Thank you for a lovely tea, Mrs Butterglove."

"Why, thank you Lucky," replied Cecile suppressing a smile.

Brendan's voice called from the vicinity of the front door, "Come on, Lucky - we'll be late!" and Lucky responded with an uncomfortable smile, a tiny wave, a steady walk out of the room and the sound of rapid footsteps as he ran down the hall. A slammed door and we heard laughter as the two boys hurtled down the garden path.

"The siren call of the television set," I remarked.

Cecile put her head on one side and regarded me with mock concern. "The lure of the piano. The clutch of the carrot casserole, The stickyness of a jam session..."

I chuckled. "Point made, Cessie."

o 0 O 0 o

It was nearly two hours later, shortly before dusk, when I heard the door click. Brendan had returned. He made his way to my side, wiping his nose with the back of his paw. I could see dried tear marks on his cheeks.

"Whatever is the matter, my little man?" I said, putting my arm around his shoulders. I felt him shuddering, trying but failing not to cry.

"It's Flash Gopher," he sobbed. "I think he's dead."

I managed to find out that the channel had aired the last episode in the series, and the drama had ended on a cliff hanger where the hero had apparently fallen to his death. Undoubtedly a new season of the show would have him miraculously reappear, but that wouldn't be for some months. I tried to reassure him, but he looked up at me with glistening eyes.

"But Auntie Bobbie's husband didn't come back when he fell off that roof. Biddie never met her daddy."

It never occurred to me that Flash Bobtail's death could be made real because of a TV programme. I hugged my boy until he calmed down. When Cecile came downstairs from attending to Russell, Brendan detached himself from me and went to hold his mum instead.

Shortly afterwards, after cuddles, warm drinks and reassurances, Brendan went to bed.

"You can't blame the television," said Cecile.

"I'm not," I said, "It's probably good that he got those feelings out."

"Yes. But it makes you wonder what will come next."

"And how Flash Gopher will return," I said, wiggling my fingers in the air.

"Idiot."

o 0 O 0 o

We needn't have been concerned about Brendan. The next morning, Lucky came to play. He had brought his book on pirates.

Brendan hopped into the room with a mop under his arm, pirate hat on his head.

I looked down at my youngest, who had stopped rocking on his rocking horse.

"Aarr," said Russell.

o 0 O 0 o

Editorial: Broadcasts to Mellowdene

Most - if not all - residents of Mellowdene would agree that life is good here. Part of this is due to the careful assessment we make regarding "progress". Quality of life is always the most important consideration. It is the duty of us all to balance comfort, convenience and technology whilst maintaining the values and environment we have established over many years. The Mellowdene council has been foremost in clarifying our choices and, so far, it seems to have worked. We have drinking water, electricity and sanitation in most of our houses. That is positive progress considering that the village was founded by four families around a watering hole!

Wow. That was serious, wasn't it!

One item that was debated was the issue of radio and television and how it would affect our way of life. It's quite a few years ago, but the idea of radio programmes broadcast from locations around Sylvania was thought miraculous and was almost universally accepted. Many households own radiograms.

The acceptance of television was less clear-cut. Younger residents were happy with the idea, but some older crittizens thought that radios were sufficient. There was only agreement after assessment of the quality of the broadcasters  Practically, Mellowdene can only receive television from two Sylvanian broadcasters - the Sylvanian Television Company (STC) and the Calico Crittervision (CCV). Their programming tends to be family-friendly. Educational broadcasts, news and a handful of dramas, all fitting within a window of five hours a day.

Unlike radiograms, the take-up of television sets was limited. This has increased associations between youngsters so that they can congregate when popular dramas are aired. They call these "telly parties."