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."   

The Melting

At that time of year where the snowdrops and crocus have given way to daffodils, when the forsythia and cherry blossom are beginning to bloom, and the broad jade leaves of the tulips hint at what is to come - we know that spring is upon us.

Here in Mellowdene, we hold a celebration of the season with an occasion known as The Melting.

Shortly before this year's Melting, Cecile and I were discussing the events that would be taking place - I was involved in a small way - when she wrinkled her nose in that cute way she has, signifying she'd remembered a question.

"What is it, Cessie?"

She smiled. "I was wondering the other day - most everyone knows the traditions, the link with the Snow Queen and so on, but why is it really called The Melting?"

I pondered for a moment. "I'm not 100% certain, but I think it relates to an isolated spot in Sylvania called Winter Valley. This is high in the mountains and is ice-bound for months on end. However, there is a part of the year when the sun is able to shine into the valley, and the ice melts - providing water to replenish the underground rivers that irrigate the land far below, allowing new season's growth for the plant life. In this way 'the melting' signifies the beginning of spring."

"Whew!" she laughed. "And that's you not being 100% certain?"

"Alright, sweet wrinkle," I grinned, tapping her knee. "I mean it's not from a textbook or any official source. I overheard Horatio Seadog explaining all this to Twitch Hazelwood and Murky Waters a couple of years ago."

Cecile nodded. "Right. Well, I prefer the Snow Queen story."

"I'm sure the same goes for the children, and probably most of Mellowdene."

The thing is, most of the village were brought up with the legend of the Snow Queen. It was a sort of creation myth that explained how Sylvania came to be. A sort of rabbit deity - although other species have adapted this - who saw that creatures needed protection from the world. A gentle home where they could flourish. The Snow Queen created Sylvania by sacrificing herself, melting away to endow a hidden but blighted land with her magical essence. For the first time plants would spring forth, clear water would flow and life would pulse from the land. Giving us a home.

We even have a statue of her on the village green. When celebrating The Melting, most Mellowdene inhabitants make a point of visiting the statue at some time within the day.

The legend of the Snow Queen is a tale that rabbits have told their children for years. I remember my father telling the story to me and to my brothers, and in turn I entertained Brendan and Beverley with the tale. When Russell is older, I will undoubtedly tell him.

We don't spend all our time around the statue, though. That wouldn't be much of a celebration! The children are more interested in another tradition - the consumption of chocolate bunnies. These are sculpted by Frasier Chocolate and his family, making use of their confectionery skills. This year he had even made a larger chocolate bunny, covered in golden foil and intended to represent the Snow Queen. This would be a prize in a competition.

The competition would only be one of a series of other events.

I'd been asked to play the accordion so that there would be music for Poppy Dappledawn and Abbie Keats to dance their intricate steps around the maypole. I know it's not yet May, but that doesn't matter. The girls are very skilled in their footwork and timing and it's always a treat to see good dancing.

After finding out about Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys recently, Chris Snow-Warren was able to convince his father Bernard to sing for everybody at The Melting. We had a handful of rehearsals to brush up on some songs that were suitable for his vocal range, and I was most impressed. Again I played the accordion to accompany him. On the day, his voice rang out across the green and with each song the crowd grew.

His rendition of "Remain here in Sylvania" had some of the older ladies - and a couple of gents - wiping tears from their eyes. And everyone joined in with "Happy Critter Holiday". Bernard was pleased with the response, and his chums turned up to congratulate him.

On the night before the event, Frasier, Niles, Daphne and Cadbury Chocolate had been joined with Eve Wildwood, and they went around the village green hiding chocolate bunnies. These treats were in a variety of sizes, and all wrapped in foil for protection. By convention, all younger critters in the village were kept indoors so they wouldn't know where the goodies were hidden. They were similarly discouraged from visiting the green the following morning prior to the official start.

Eve Wildwood - familiar to all the children as one of their teachers - announced the rules of the foil bunny game so that the kiddies knew what they would have to do.

"You should search all around the village green for the chocolate bunnies," she said, "but DO NOT trample on the flowers. Before you begin you will be given a flag to stick into the ground near the judges. Yes, Daisy Cottontail - I'm one of the judges. But listen carefully to the rules.

"Because the bunnies are different sizes, unlike last year, we won't be judging the winner on the most found by a competitor - it will be by weight. Mr Chocolate tells me that the larger ones are better hidden but you should have long enough to find them. You will have twenty minutes to do your searching and bring your findings to your flag. Now keep listening during this. A bell will ring one minute before the end to give you a chance to bring your last findings and the bell will ring again to mark the end. After that, no more findings will count. Any questions?"

Inevitably there were. It took a while to explain that if you worked in a team, the total weight of the team's findings would be divided by the number in that team, but eventually everyone was happy. The children decided whether or not they wished to work alone and the flags were allocated.

Ben Hopkins decided to search alone, as did a few other children. A number formed family teams whilst some others joined together with their friends. Notably, all the Waters children decided to work as one big team - save Murky, who wanted to join with Oscar Marmalade and Basil Hazelwood's boys Twitch and Sniff. Twitch wondered if they were a little too old, but Eve assured them that it would be fine this year.

The starting bell rang, and the children ran in all directions, squealing with happiness.

I turned to Cecile. "I see Beverley has joined Biddie and Lisa Snow-Warren. Where's Brendan gone?"

She pointed in the opposite direction. "With Lucky and Coco Chocolate. He's promised to give half his plunder to Russell. He's a good lad."

"Plunder? Where's he got that from?"

"Lucky Snow-Warren has a book on pirates. It's all 'plunder' and 'aarr me hearties' recently. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"I suppose that explains the hopping."

"Aarr," said Russell helpfully.

I rubbed his ear and looked towards the edge of the green where Brendan appeared from behind a tree, leapt over a flower bed and ran in our general direction. As he passed us he yelled, "Got one," and continued towards his flag.

It continued in this vein with children running in all directions until I heard the penultimate bell. It was then that the Waters children made their memorable appearance.

Misty was first, urging her brother and cousins towards their flag. Leo was next, jumping up and down saying "bunny bunny" over and over again. Next came Roger pulling a serving trolley with Crispin pushing from behind. On the trolley was the enormous gold-wrapped prize chocolate rabbit. Ripley, Lindsay and Lester were running in their wake - at least until Lester fell over. In the distance I could see their uncles Wally and Willie laughing.

"What are they doing?" Cecile said, watching them in fascination.

"Taking advantage of the rules, I suspect. That bunny will be some weight."

As expected, once the final bell had sounded, there were some different opinions as to the Waters children's interpretation of the rules. I won't reveal the judges' ruling!

As the day came to a close and we started to walk home, I glanced back towards the village green. Twitch Hazelwood's uncles - Burrell, Scully and Turnbull (better known as Burrow, Scurry and Tumble) of Mice & Clean - were helping with the cleanup, not that there was much mess. Niles and Daphne Chocolate were retrieving any undiscovered chocolate bunnies, and the other organisers were carrying the tables and flags back to the village hall.

"A good day," I commented.

Cecile, carrying a sleeping Russell, agreed.

Brendan and Beverley were tired too. They clung to their small sacks of chocolate bunnies and trudged along ahead of us, Beverley pulling Russell's toy behind her.

Over the next few days the final tradition of The Melting would take place. One by one, a chocolate bunny would be melted over a low heat, and sugared bread-sticks would be dipped into the melted chocolate and eaten slowly accompanied by mugs of cold milk. Judging the state of my dozy children, that tradition wouldn't be exercised tonight.

I heaved my accordion into a more comfortable position and, listening to the blackbirds sing, feeling the warmth of the late sun on my back, I found my mind wandering. On such a magical evening with thoughts of The Melting, maybe the Snow Queen wasn't a myth after all.

Timbertop Farm

When the village community decided to document our life in Mellowdene, one aspect was to highlight the people and businesses that support the families living here.

This first report concentrates upon the family of one of our elder residents and the work they do to provide us with much of our food. I'm speaking, of course, of Gustav Timbertop and his farm. I went to speak to Gus and his wife Fern, but also had the opportunity to chat with other members of his dynasty...

Recording the memories of Gus and Fern Timbertop

The History of Timbertop Farm

When the recently married Gus and Fern Timbertop came to Mellowdene years ago, they didn't expect their future life to develop quite the way that it has. They came to work on a failing small holding that was owned by a distant relative - Bertram Grizzlethorpe - and the work was hard. Nevertheless, they had no complaints as Bertram treated them well, and in turn they helped turn the business around. Gus was made farm manager, and by employing temporary workers at busy times of the year the farm grew in strength,

When Fern became pregnant, Gus and Bertram took on her tasks but the farm work became progressively difficult as Bertram was getting quite old. Gus wrote to his old friends - Smokey Wildwood and Winston Cottontail - to see if they could come to Mellowdene to provide some temporary assistance. They did, and to Gus's surprise along came Mack Periwinkle and Bernard Snow-Warren too. This group of friends had shared various pastimes throughout their childhood and early adulthood, and now they were back together they continued their comradeship on the farm. Neither Mack nor Bernard were particularly suited to farm work, but their help was appreciated nonetheless.

Mack had a new bride Mabel, and she was a great help to Fern during the birth of her first son Taylor.

Over the next four years, Bertram became too infirm to work on the farm, and his involvement was  primarily confined to paperwork. He included Fern with this, saying that she needed something to occupy her now that Taylor was at school. Unbeknown to the Timbertops he had other plans in mind, which became clear when poor Bertram died. He had bequeathed the farm to Gus and Fern, and so Timbertop Farm came into being.

Many years passed. His rabbit friends had taken on other jobs within Mellowdene. Bernard Snow-Warren had found a bride fairly soon after his arrival in the village, but now Winston and Smokey were married too. Fern had a daughter Peony, and another son Tyler, and once their schooling had finished all three young Timbertops began to work on the farm.

Timbertop Farm today

Now, Gus and Fern have taken a back seat, and Taylor - married to Rose - has taken over management of the farm. Tyler enjoys the physical work, and Peony - now married to Zebediah Cody (of the Kodiak Codys) - is in charge of egg-production.

Zeb and Peony, Rose and Taylor, and Tyler in the farm yard

The next generation of Timbertops are already on their way to continue the legacy of Gus and Fern. Taylor and Rose's eldest boy Birch is a great help in the fields and their eldest daughter Ivy is showing an interest in the paperwork. The two youngest - Bud and Daisy - enjoy the outdoor life and Bud is often found watching his dad working.

Ivy, Daisy, Gus, Fern, Bud and Birch in the farm yard

Timbertop Farm is now the primary source of vegetables and eggs for Mellowdene. However, this hardworking bear family provide other services to the village.

The wheat fields supply the village mill with the raw material for their flour, and straw for Wildwood's brickworks.

Taylor harvests the straw whilst Bud daydreams. Zeb is on the tractor.

Peony Cody is solely in charge of the farm's free range hens,and although young Daisy would like to be more involved, her school work must take priority.

Peony gathers eggs. Zeb photo-bombs.

Zeb is quite technical and he ensures that the tractor, muck-spreader and other farm machinery are well maintained. Although he can and does drive the farm vehicles from time to time, he is happy to let Tyler do most of this - which suits Tyler since he was the one who convinced the family to become more mechanised. He even named the tractor "Chuggles".

Tyler prepares to fertlilize the fields, whilst Birch, Gus and Fern look on.

Although they produce a lot of vegetables, Timbertop Farm do not have a complete monopoly. Salad vegetables and domestic fruit are the concern of the Blackberry rabbits who maintain orchards and greenhouses.

Many thanks to the Timbertop family for providing this information. And their wonderful carrots! [JB]

Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys

A couple of hours after the mystery of the "secret admirer" had been solved, Merlin and Eliza returned with our little Russell. He was a little tired from his play date with Jamie and Hannah Periwinkle and pleased to see his mum.

"Hey Jack," said Merlin soon after they arrived, "You'd never guess. Alex Periwinkle told me something unusual about his dad."

I asked him to explain and he replied, "It turns out that, before he was married, Mack used to be in a music group. Alex had no idea."

"Ha. That is news," I said. "How did Alex find out?"

"His parents wanted to borrow their big room for a slide show, inviting a few of their pals, and Alex caught sight of a couple of the slides."

"I knew he'd played the harmonium for Kelvin Waters at a couple of weddings but a band? Well, he kept that quiet."

"That's not all," laughed Merlin, "as it turns out the other members of the band were Smokey Wildwood, Winston Cottontail, Gus Timbertop and Bernard Snow-Warren!"

"What?" I was astounded. "Chris has never mentioned this."

"I sort of get the impression that no-one knew."

Once my brother and his wife had left, Cecile looked up from playing with Russell. She had a knowing look in her eye.

"Go on. I know you want to go and find out more. I'm sure Christian Snow-Warren will want to quiz his father, too."

I smiled. She knew me so well. I gave her a kiss and then went to phone Chris.

It was true. Chris had no idea about his dad's musical past. As we walked to Bernard's cottage at the end of his garden, he mused about his childhood.

"I've not heard my dad sing recently, but he did have a reasonable voice. But you don't think about that sort of thing when you're little. I can't understand why he's never mentioned being in a band. 

Upon arriving, Chris confronted his dad.

Bernard smiled. "Well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag now. It was a long time ago, before any of us had met our brides to be. Except Gus Timbertop, that is. He was going out with Fern, and she tagged along to most of our shindigs. She took some photographs back then, and had them made into slides."

"And were these the ones you were showing at the Periwinkle's house?" I asked.

"Last night. Yes," said Bernard. "Fern had found the slides but had no way of showing them. Smokey Wildwood said he had a projector in his attic, so we arranged to have a viewing, bringing the band back together. It was a good night. Mack had Alex bring in an extra sofa so we could all sit comfortably."

Relaxing, he recalled the evening and led us through the events...

- o 0 O 0 o -

After we'd settled down, Smokey put Fern's slides into the cartridge, checking that they were the right way up before they were fed into the projector.

I was there with Fern and Gus to my right, then Smokey checked that the projector was properly facing the screen.

To his right, Mabel and Mack were snuggled on the smaller settee, and Winston Cottontail was at the far end.

"Right," said Smokey, "Can you turn out the lights, Winston?

So he got up - not quite as nimble as he was duck-walking across the stage with his guitar, mind you - and did the honours.

Job done, he went back to his seat and the show began.

The first slide showed Winston on his guitar.

The next slide showed Smokey on bass. Literally.

The next slide showed Mack Periwinkle on keyboards.He got up when his slide was being shown to remark about some defect there had been in the instrument, We told him to sit down.

The next slide showed me singing my heart out. Fern asked me if I could remember what I was singing. I couldn't but pretended I could. I actually sang a few bars there and then. And yes, they told me to sit down too.

The slide of Gus showed him throwing his drumstick in the air during a performance. We had to stop him doing that as he kept losing the stick and it was embarrassing asking the audience to give it back.

There were some other slides, but the one of the entire band was nice to see.

- o 0 O 0 o -

At that point Bernard went silent, back with his memories.

Chris brought him out of his reverie. "What was the band called, dad?"

"Oh?" said Bernard, "We called ourselves Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys."

"Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys?" said Chris and I in one voice.

"Well, it was Gus's band..."

"Okay," said Chris, shaking his head.

"...and it could have been worse. Fern wanted to call us the Bear Buns."

Chris and I spluttered with laughter. When we could keep a straight face, I asked the question that had been growing in my mind. "And why did you stop playing, Mr Snow-Warren?"

"Priorities, really. We got married, and decided to move to Mellowdene. Money was short. The kiddies came along. Life just sort of moved on."

"What about your instruments? Did you have to sell them?"

"They weren't ours. We rented them from the shop where Winston worked. It was a music shop and whilst he had a discount, we could just about afford them."

"And you've never been tempted to start playing again?

"After all these years we're really out of practice. Except maybe Mack. I guess most of the guys would be embarrassed to be heard."

"That's a shame."

Chris lightly punched his dad on the arm. "You could sing for us, though."

Bernard chuckled. "Maybe sometime. No - don't frown, Christian. I'm not fobbing you off. It's just that my voice isn't what it was. Perhaps if we found the right song."

"And the others?"

"Er, probably not. During the slide show we all realised something now that we have the benefit of maturity."

"What's that, dad?"

"About Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys - we weren't very good!"