SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE!

Dearest Emily,

'Twas the night before your Fashion Uncle Henry Conway zooms onto our telly screens in The Jump and we're getting excited for him and wishing him lots of luck!

So, I've sat myself down to do some 'colouring-in' Em (you know what that's like.) I've been looking forwards to settling down to doing this one since I was lucky enough to scan it from the collection of a direct descendent of the Founder of Punch.

PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JANUARY 13TH 1894

'A DIRTY CROSSING'

The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street (loq.)"O dear, O dear! I wish I were out of this nasty mess!"

It's a constant source of amazement to your Grandmother GiGi, how things crop up here in a timely manner. This sums up my week! Tenniel was brilliant at satirizing with character- but I don't suppose for a minute he realised how much of his work would chime in with the zeitgeist in years to come.

'Some Things Never Change' Em, as my little Shop has adopted as its 'Isle of Wight-centric' tag-line- and here this cartoon has a relevance to the current Economic status-quo just as it did when it was drawn by Sir John Tenniel a hundred and twenty years ago.

More-over, in a week where in a Looking-Glass Fashion, I have been fighting my own Jabberwock- and dealing with Slithey Toves and other Creatures, I'm drawing my own strength to keep fighting for the good and just side, by smiling when I think of my own Muse- our lovely HC. When our dear Henry, hits a contretemps or two- he is simply himself. Always, and honestly. Never afraid to galvanise or fight a good fight- he is simply his delightful him.

Which I'm sure, a lot of people are about to see as he bravely hits the ski slopes and tries to find his (non-existant) inner-Beast. We used to laugh about Grumpa's 'Black-Dog' (of the kind Churchill referred to as plagued him) and say Henry just didn't have one- with Churchill and Led Zeppelin as references. But Em, he is brave...

We are lucky to have all our good friends in life, and of the many things I adore about your 'Fashion-Uncle' is his honesty and joie de vivre. This is underpinned by a core of truth, strong values and a supportive and loving family. What more can you have to draw upon.

HC the froth on my Coffee- I am so looking forward to watching you on 'The Jump'- though I shamefully always pooh-poohed any reality TV shows you were offered. But this one rather suits you!

And of my own political fights, I shall say just one thing to you Emily. Truth, always. Know your own truth, be passionate about what and who you care about- and never be afraid of consequences coming from those. Never allow a Bully, and never walk away from what you know to be right.

Enough said, now for the entertainment- Good Luck Henry!

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi, xxx

GiGi and the Cat- The Worm who couldn't Dig.

Dear Emily,

Let's go back for a moment to your little sister's book.

If it's a spoof of a parody, perhaps she should have a lost chapter too! Last week I was the lucky winner in a give-away and received this in the post;

It is from 1977, and contains the galley proofs of the section that was dropped from 'Through the Looking Glass' because illustrator Sir John Tenniel thought it was 'altogether beyond the appliances of art'. So here's our Volte-Face Emily- that we shall throw out for the same reason, before we publish it!

...and she was just going to spring over, when she heard a deep sigh, which seemed to come from the wood behind her.
"There's somebody very unhappy there," she thought, looking anxiously back to see what was the matter. Something like an old man (only he had two faces) was sitting on the ground leaning against a tree, all huddled up together, and shivering as if he were very cold.

"I don't think I can be of any use to him" was GiGi's first thought, as she turned to head back to Mrs Cameraman's House:-"But I'll just ask him what's the matter", she added, checking herself before heading on. "If I once head off again, everything will change, and then I can't help him".

So, she went back to the Worm-rather unwillingly, for she hadn't really seen him as a part of her story.

"Oh, where are my bones, my old bones!" one of his faces (the grumpy one) was grumbling on, as GiGi came up to him.

"It's Purgatree business, I should think" GiGi said to him, and she stooped over him, and said very kindly "I hope you're not in much pain?"

The Worm only wriggled, and turned the Grumpy face away, so GiGi was facing two profiles- one smiling and one grimacing. "Ah, deary me!" he said to himself.

"Can I do anything for you?" GiGi went on. "Aren't you rather cold here?"

"How you go on!" the Worm said in a peevish tone. "Worrit, niggle! There never was such a Cleaner here!"

GiGi felt rather offended at this answer, and she was very nearly walking on and leaving him, but she thought to herself "Perhaps it's only pain that makes him so cross." So she tried once more.

"Won't you let me turn your face around to the better side? Things will look a bit better that way?"

The Worm let her approach him, and she gently turned the smiling face towards the front, where she considered it better, but he then got settled down again and the face turned instantly, the grumbling one saying "Worrit, niggle, Can't you leave us both alone?"

"Would you like me to read you a bit of this?" GiGi went on, as she picked up a newspaper which had been lying at his side.

"You may read it if you've a mind to", the Worm said, rather sulkily. "Nobody's hindering you, that I know of".

So, GiGi sat down by him, and spread out the paper on her knees and began. 

"Latest News. The Committee have made another tour of the Business, and concluded that there is nothing that needs doing. Councillor Just, said the Insidious Rumours would be playing the Down, Just said as they did- back with the Hay Days."

"Any Funky Diggers?" the Worm interrupted.

GiGi hastily ran her eye down the paper "No, it says nothing about Diggers" Oh, I see- thought GiGi to herself- he's reading a quite different Newspaper to ours- no wonder he's confused! 

"LET IT ALL STOP THERE!" said the Worm, and he shuffled sideways turning the grumbling face straight towards GiGi. "THAT'S WHERE IT SHALL ALL STOP. PUT THE NEWSPAPER DOWN, AND LEAVE IT ALONE."

GiGi put down the newspaper. "I'm afraid you are very sad" she said in a soothing tone. "Can't I do anything for you?"

"It's all along of the 'Dig'" the Worm said in a much gentler voice.

"Along of the 'Dig'?" repeated GiGi, quite pleased that he had recovered his temper.

"You'd be cross too, if you were a 'Digger' like me, and you got worrit's and niggles about your right to 'Dig'. And then I gets cross. And I gets cold. And I gets my scarf , and I ties it round my face as at present."

GiGi looked pityingly at him. "Tying up your face(s) is very good for the toothache" she said.

"And it's very good for the Conceit" added the Worm.

GiGi didn't catch the word exactly "Is that a kind of toothache?" she asked.

"Well, no" he said: "it's when you hold up your head- so- without bending your neck".

"Oh, you mean stiff-neck" said GiGi.

"That's a new-fangled name. The Funky Diggers called it Conceit in my time".

"Conceit isn't a disease at all" GiGi remarked.

"It is though." said the Worm, "Wait till you have it, and then you'll know. "And when you catches it, just try tying a scarf around your neck- it'll cure you in no time".

"I'll tell you how I came to wear it. When I was young, my ringlets used to wave!" With this, he untied the scarf, and GiGi couldn't help but see how sparse he looked...

A curious idea came into GiGi's head. Almost everyone she had met had repeated poetry to her, so she thought she might see if the Worm couldn't do it too. However- GiGi thought- this Worm is reading an altogether different newspaper- he wont understand poetry in this way- he wants to sing!

"Would you mind singing it to me?" she asked very politely.

He was silent for a few minutes, then he drew himself up, shook both of his heads together into one- screwed up all his features and beating his tail to a rhythmn, began;

"When I was young, my ringlets waved

And curled and crinkled on my head;

And then I said 'I should be shaved

And wear a purple wig instead'

But when I followed my advice,

And noticed the effect,

I thought I didn't look so nice

As I had ventured to expect

They said it didn't fit and so

It made me look extremely plain:

But what was I to do, you know?

My ringlets would not grow again.

So now that I am old and gray,

And all my hair is nearly gone.

The Worm can't dig without a gig,

So where else could I bring it on?

And still whenever I appear

They hoot to call me Dig!

And that is why I do it dear,

Because of a purple Wig"

"I'm very sorry for you" GiGi said heartily, as he clearly thought he was in fact wearing the wig! " I think, if your Purple Wig fitted a little better, then everyone could see how fine it is. I think-"

The worm interrupted her here "Your wig fits very well- its just the rest of you that's all wrong! Your jaws are too short, your feets too big, and what's more you just aren't here to Dig!" At this, he laughed at his own words, and gathering courage and humour he carried on "Your eyes, well you've only two- and they are both the same size- what use is one head, when two can suffize!" 

GiGi stepped back, noticing how well the Worm had not only recovered his spirits, but had set one face- the smiling one, on straight. His tail, still beating to his own tune, was beginning to dig at the soil underneath him. GiGi thought she might safely leave him. "I think I must be going on now" she said.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbyee, and thankeee" sang the Worm, and GiGi tripped down the hill again, quite pleased that she had gone back and given a few minutes to making the poor old creature comfortable.

So there we are Emily, that is the 'lost chapter' that I shall throw out of Annabel's book! It was fun writing it though, and good to go back and revisit something I might not have bothered with.

Enough of my nonsense for now. Hope you enjoyed the Natural History Museum yesterday- what did you make of all the Dinosaurs?

Your ever-loving Grand-Mother,

GiGi xxx

Testament of Devotion

Dearest Emily,

Yesterday was a day of inspiration in some rather surprising ways. It was the first of a planned series of Road Trips on Dimbola missive. This first one was to the Watts Gallery in Compton. I have heard so many great things about the team there, and how far they have come from humble beginnings and achieved excellence. So- I was all prepared for this- and hoped to be inspired and re-energised by what has become something of a Beacon for us at Freshwater...

What I was not prepared for however- was to become converted to being a Watt's fan! I've sort of skirted around his work- without being very drawn to it- possibly for the same reasons I didn't previously get into the Pre-Raphaelites. My age being an issue here- in the mid-seventies at school, the desks smelling of Patchouli oil, and the older girls with Hennaed hair- immediately sent me rebelling off on an Art-rock tangent via Mr Ferry and Mr Bowie- and my head was turned away. It started to come round last year though when I went to the Tate Modern exhibition- helped by darling Henry's fashion commentary along the way! Also, my growing collection of prints from contemporaneous books, contained several of his illustrations- this one being my favourite;

Not having a date for it- I don't know if it's Angelo Collarozzi Senior or Junior- but that's another story- anyhow- here's Senior, in Julia Margaret Cameron's hands-

Which is where I kind of began on this trail, back in 2005! 

Back to Watts...

I met up with our Chairman in the fabulous Gift Shop and were warmly greeted by the Staff- all of whom are Volunteers. Brian bought books (as usual) and we waited for Nick our guide who is the Curator. 

Nick and his lovely family stayed with us last Summer- so he knows what we are trying to achieve at Dimbola- and is very encouraging. He explained the relationship of all the buildings surrounding the Gallery- and I got a developing sense of the past and present very symbiotically singing off of the same hymn sheet.

Mary Seton Watts- G.F.Watts second Wife, had created this fascinating enclave- for herself and her husband to work in. The effect of her own aesthetic- Arts and Crafts-centric- enabled me personally to look at Watts with a more appreciative eye. Similarly- this seems to me to be The Watts Gallery's secret weapon- as their task is to convert those historically not loving his work!

Chatting with Nick outside- the recent extreme weather has left them with local flooding- his genuine concern for his place of work was overwhelming. In the early days, the Gallery had buckets dotted about to catch leaks from the roof- and he was fretting about their return today! 

Everyone gives you this feeling here- it is a very special place...

The past, the present and the future are all working together here- an absolute inspiration!

Thoughtfully curated- somehow for me at least- they have managed to let us see Watts as his Wife saw him- her devotion (and the current Team's devotion)- allowing his work to be seen afresh.

Next road-trip Em- I think it'll be to Watt's first Wife's home. Ellen Terry fascinates me- and there is a recently restored 'Beetle' dress to be admired that apparently Lewis Carroll remarked on when he saw her wearing it at a performance shortly before his death.

What fun Emily!

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxxx

Another Fine Day on a 'Remote British Island'

Dearest Em,

A Happy New Year to my gorgeous Grand-daughters. Well, it has been wild here! Nature's being rather dramatic- and locals tend to walk about- shoulders set, with a sort of 'weary of the constant sound' of the wind expression. I've kind of given up listening to the Weather forecast, as it seems we are bashed about every few days right now.
So- you'd expect everyone to be indoors right? Not a bit of it Em, down at Dimbola I felt like applauding everyone who came through the door- just for getting there. Then they stay quite a long time- so we're all happy! And today at the Bookroom, more of the same. Sandbagged Yarmouth still functions rather well.
My first delicious day back there since Christmas, and time to pick up my Christmas present to myself- here it is Em...

Apologies for the flash and the rubbish angle- but I was in a hurry to show you. This lovely piece is number two in my Freshwater and Isle of Wight map collection- I fear it will grow and eat up my wages rather too quickly! But ooh Em- just look, it is dated 1817 and amused me because The Isle of Wight is classed as a 'Remote British Island' which I guess it was, by horse and cart- but even so!
Also, it has a fab engraving of the Bay, and no GiGi's house to be seen- in fact nothing at all. No Fort Redoubt, no Plumbl'ys Hotel, no Albion, no 'Cabin' which should've been there on the Beach. That (also known as The Mermaid) was by all accounts a bit of a dive. It's where the artist George Moreland hung out and got drunk after escaping his creditors on the mainland. So- there's another reason for remote visiting I guess. Then Mr Tennyson and his desire to escape adulation, thought he'd got the remote bit right- until everyone started coming over to catch a glimpse of him (including our stalker Dodgson.) I guess varying reasons for coming here are pretty much the same centuries on.
Anyhow, that was then, and this is now. Your Grandmother thinks it is the Centre of the Universe as you know. But, I did think that maybe the internet helped me move here. Perhaps it did Em, and I love the remoteness of living on the edge of the Down, and looking out of the window at night in the Winter- seeing no people, no buildings, paradoxically for me feels the opposite of being alone.
However- what with all this Weather- I sometimes think it's more like Newfoundland in 'The Shipping News' and again- I quite like that.
Last week though, we had a bit of a test. The main internet mast broke- and Grumpa installed a washing machine in my office and left all the router plugs disconnected. So what we thought was down to the mast, became prolonged down to a lack of plugging-in. But, guess what Em, we got used to it. It was a bit odd to begin with, but then it ceased to matter.
I'm glad it is back on- I enjoy catching up on what my friends all over the world are up to for one thing.
But it was a nice little test for me here on a 'Remote British Island' theme. LOVE IT.
So, I shall sign off for now, and await the next storm!

See you both again soon. We shall go for our walks with Milly and Marley, you will pinch my hat and pretend you are me. You'll comment on me doing my make-up and discern that the one made up eye is 'quite nice- do the other one' , and I shall feel all over again how rich my life is and how lucky I am! Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxxx

Who Dreamed it?

Dearest Em,

GIGI stared at the cat, who was still grinning from ear to ear.

She scooped him up from the table and stared him straight in the eyes.

"I see now, Mr Storm-Cat- all this mischief has been of your making, hasn't it?"

The cat didn't reply, and wriggled out of GiGi's clutches. Heading out of the French windows, GiGi followed him. He stopped at sat down opposite the Purgatree.

GiGi stood next to him. As they watched, the Cautionary Tale faded until it had completely disappeared. Harpy Lapette was shrieking at the Slithey Tove. "It's no use- you ca'n't go back. You've shown your true colours- you ca'n't teach an old Tove new tricks you know. You're mine! All Mine! Oh look at you all in the Tangled wood- come here so I can put out your eyes properly!"

Ethan Safertie was no-where to be seen.

The cat then got up, and headed off towards the Bay, GiGi joined him.

"You know what's happened here, GiGi?"

GiGi was frowning. The cat went on "No. You don't do you?" The cat paused, and shook his head. "Well then, just as Mrs Cameraman did, I shall simply have to spell it out for you too."

He sighed and muttered to himself as they carried on towards the Bay.

"You remember earlier on when we were outside in the garden, and you were wittering on about this being Heaven on Earth? Well sometimes, dear GiGi, you DO gettit. So, Ithought perhaps you might understand nonsense better, so then you'd be able to make sense of things for yourself.
I overestimated you- you rather let us all down- it took you a whole eight Chapters GiGi for you to know what to do!
Thankfully, you got there in the end- but goodness me- we came rather close to giving up on you!

You see the Purgatree?

It's there for those who don't see what's good for them. It's there for reflection, and contemplation, but it is not a good place to be.

However, sometimes it is a necessary place to be. When you ca'n't see Heaven on Earth. When you ca'n't make your own Sunshine. Once they've suffered there, most come out with some knowledge of the laws of the Universe. But GiGi, some don't. Hear me well GiGi, because you- you walk about thinking that everyone will see the Good eventually. But no, dear GiGi, some don't, you may as well wake up and smell the Coffee here. Some don't, or won't or ca'n't.

The Harpy's prey on these. Once the Harpy's get their eyes, well there's nothing anyone or thing can do. You ca'n't reach them, they are too busy entertaining their own Demon to care or notice anything beautiful.

But. You need to remember yourself here GiGi. You do know your place. We called you loud enough after all. Phew that was hard work! We left you quite a lot of messages. Still, you gottit in the end.

But you MUST remember your place. Sometimes it's not easy. But you'll never have to spend any time in the Purgatree if you do remember your place. You must not waiver. Ever, GiGi.

If you want Heaven on Earth, then you must have faith in it.

You had to clean Mrs Cameraman's house- change the air around a bit- because some stain had left an attraction for those who should have been in the Purgatree at the time, but they kept coming back in.

So, you've done that, and now it won't seem attractive to those who are not like-minded. Just wait, it'll play out. So thank-you for doing your little bit in the story. We may call on you again, if there's anything else to be done.

I'm off- there's someone else I need to reel back in."

All at once- Storm disappeared. GiGi suddenly felt rather tired and sat down at the Bay, gazing out over the sea.


*     *     *    *     *    *     *      *     *     *     *      *      *      *      *     *      *        *         *        *

It was a lovely, vast night. 

That strange harmony which is not sound, which is not silence, was vibrating everywhere.

The moon was slowly winning a silver victory 

and conquering realm after realm of Sand, Down and Sea.

Anne Thackeray Ritchie at Freshwater Bay.

In the stillness, GiGi remembered later, that it was at this time when she noticed a feeling akin to waking up from a dream. A Looking Glass Dream, she dubbed it to herself. As though this was some kind of Fairy Story take on her own life? Or is that nonsense- she thought to herself- as she watched the moonlight- which wasn't a moonlight, but actually a sunrise!

"Oh, it's all topsy-turvy round here! Well at least it's day-light, and I can get on with some real things I need to do...."

As she was about to head home- she caught sight of something on the horizon, which zig-zagged about, but appeared to be heading in her direction. As it got closer- she slowly made out a boat named 'P.GREENE' and then she saw Grumpa and Storm inside! 

Her boat was coming in. Had Grumpa realised his own way back to Heaven on Earth?

Or, was that a Pig flying above her head?

She then realised that she was still wearing little Alice's Angel Wings. "Oh my", said GiGi "Am I dreaming this, or is this dreaming-me!?"

Well dear Emily and Annabel- which do you think it was?

That's all for now,

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxxxx

A Fit of Peake.

Dearest Emily,

Whilst the rather eerily similar drama of reality here plays out alongside the writing of your little sister's book- we shall pause a while- and take a little Dodgson tangent.

As I am now doing the Winter stint at the Bookroom, it's sadly down to one day a week for me here- but ooh Emily, I do rather relish that day! As we know- something always comes up- and today was no exception. Except- that as there were very few customers about- spending most of my wages on a book I spied on the shelves, probably wasn't wise. But look!

A Mervyn Peake 'Hunting of the Snark' all in mustard boards, the same size as your little book- and ooh just so pleasing to my eye! I had to have it Emily- you'll understand. After all, once I've finished Annabel's book- it's all about Dodgson again and his flip over to the East-side of the Wight for me! I'd put those thoughts away, as I don't even start my research degree until next September. However, in between times, some fabulous bits and bobs for the topic have found their way to me (thanks to Mark, and Elisabeth notably.) I shall add this to my muse-board. My reason for this is- just look at the character that Peake has drawn Em...

We know Dodgson's ruse of cariacature- did Peake gettit and do the same some seventy years later? Here's a cariacature of Mr D that I've got- think it was by Bentley, but I'm not sure as I scanned it from a book- and five minutes later sold the book to a customer...hrrmph!

I had saved this as one of my card designs for later Emily- but look at the face- you can see where I'm heading here. The next two are Gertrude Thompson's portrait of Dodgson, and finally a photo of him. 

Scan from the top illustration Emily and we aren't a million miles away from concluding the Peake may have done a 'Tenniel' so to speak, and cariacturised Dodgson here!

Anyway food for nerdy thought! Back to GiGi's week here at Wacky-Bay...

Nice to see that an article in the County Press picks up on our Ann Thackeray 'Commonplace' quote. Talking of which- I gave Mummy the tea towel with the quote on when Annabel was born- do you think she might like this one too?

I got this design manufactured this week, I do love Anny's quotes! The sentiment is great, and she was so daintily pithy in her writing sometimes. Even reminds me a little of Moliere in feel.

Anyhow, back to the drawing board- enough dalliance Dodgson-wise again- up to my neck in setting up our on-line shop right now.

Ok, one last musing...

If our Mrs Cameraman (in Annabel's book) had a notice-board on her kitchen wall Em, with some Letterpress fridge magnets to play with- do you think that on one of his visits, whilst standing there rather bored as Mrs C chatted away to all unsundry- he might just have arranged the letters like this??

As we say here Em- 

Until next time,

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxx

'On With their Heads!"

Dearest Emily,

Well it's three whole weeks since you were promoted to the 'Big Sister' role in life. Hope you are settling in to it well. It's a tough call Em, I'm one too- and what happens is that your siblings look up at you- and actually- they get the better deal- coz they get to learn from all your mistakes! Still, always be gracious about this, and then you can always retort to "I made that mistake so you won't have to". That way you retain the moral high ground and save face at the same time. Just ask your Granny, anytime for these little wise-cracks- it's what I'm here for- apart from knitting, sitting by the fire and baking you cakes...

Anyhow- back to reality- or not in this case.

The reason that I haven't written over the last week- is a rather curious tale. It was the Olde Bookroom Serendipity at work again- but this time it rather stopped me in my tracks! I shan't go into it too much here- the potted version will suffice.

Chap comes in and searches the Local History shelves. He's been in before, so I know his face. Somehow- upon choosing his purchase, we get chatting about Dimbola. The long and short of it Em, is that he tells me a story about a Medium or two- and what he is telling me- mirrors the theme of my tale. SPOOKY! - Keeping details to myself- as requested, but it sent me into a bit of a 'Writers Block' until dear Prof. Bob, upon hearing what I've said to you- told me it's an 'ism type thing. Got a name- like Factor X, or something similar. Will look up when I have time- and when you are older, will tell you the back-story.

For now, it's back to business....

THE SIGHT OF the smiling cat, stopped GiGi in her tracks, after all, she had been trying to remember the cat, without success until now.

Storm stepped back, as if greeting GiGi, and entreating her on with her business.

Clasping her broom, GiGi leapt up the stairs. Beginning with the Attics, she rolled up her sleeves, and swept as though her life depended upon it. She opened all the windows as she went. The wind seemed to pick up in the process and rustling sounds accompanied the whirl, as she went from room to room, feverishly sweeping. Dust, sparkled in the half-light, the wind howled, and she thought she heard human-like voices, though she couldn't make out any words.

The rooms seemed energised by the sweeping, she thought- and continued her mission- and as she descended the main staircase- voices from the Tearoom reminded her of the Trusty's and her Bored Meeting. She swept the ground floor- and rested a while on her broomstick. Storm passed by, and in his new role of Butler- he led the way to the meeting.

GiGi entered the room, just as the Chairman called for 'Any Other Business'. GiGi went to take her seat, muttering apologies. The french windows opened, and in the half-light- GiGi made out Mrs Cameraman, and little Alice descending from the sky, opening a gate, and all at once they were by her side. GiGi giggled. There didn't seem to be anything for her to say.

Then, Mrs Cameraman spoke-

"Hello". She looked around the room, at the upturned faces. I'm glad you are all here. I've been trying to get back in- but for various reasons it has all proved rather difficult. Now, with Alice's help and a rather tedious plea to this particular lady (she jabbed GiGi in the side at this point) I am here. Let us get some things quite straight!"

" A certain Mr Carroll, whom I knew as Dodgson, wrote a book or two. In the second one- he placed me, as a Queen- and I need to set the record straight! In my book, my 'type' never says 'Off with their heads!" Not my style. The opposite is true."

At this point, she laughed her husky chortle, and little Alice giggled again.

"Those of you who know me, understand that I did what I did, because I had to. I never wanted to leave this place. My darling Charles wanted to go, eventually, so I went with him. But I came back- and the difficult 'seam' that runs through these houses, got dark again- and I was 'exercised'. And though all the great efforts in saving the house culminated in its becoming a museum to my work- it never could get rid of a bad smell.
It was there when we lived there. We saw it- this began before us.
But, it didn't reckon with me, and what will happen tonight."

At this point, the mixture of tea-time and evening meal (it had been a looong meeting), flew together off of the table, and the candlesticks shot shooting stars into the air...

"The negatives, have gone to the Purgatree. Those who see what is what, will come back- and those that do not- will seek out other Pearls, before their Swine."

GiGi looked out of the window at the Purgatree...

More next week, ma petite. Looking forwards to seeing you all for Christmas!

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxx

A New Broom

Dearest Emily,

Well, we welcome your little sister Annabel at last! Best get this last chapter drafted for your perusal then- so we can get on with her book!

'But the rose was awake all night for your sake,

    Knowing your promise to me'

Tennyson- Maud

AT THIS PRECISE MOMENT, GiGi sensed that somehow everything had turned back into the way it was before (surely?) She was outside the house again, and could hear the bickering Trusty's at the Bored meeting, and she was just wondering if she had been dreaming all this time, when she was all at once interrupted by the sound of laughter- the chuckling of a baby girl, accompanied by the chortling husky laughter of a woman- who then spoke...

"Her besum broom went snicker-snack,

Through hall and parlour, and out to the far-door,

Sweeping house from the front to the back!

Well go-on! 

What's stopping you Dear?"

GiGi looked around her for her broom, which she must have left somewhere along the way. She looked up to the sky where the voice and the laughter had come from- but all was dark, except for the faint outline of a smiling black cat.

"Now, no excuses please- here take these!"

 A new broom then appeared hurtling down from the night sky accompanied by a pair of goose wings. They landed on the grass in front of her. "The wings are Alice's" said the voice- she puts them on as a prop- try them- they can only do good! Now, it is high time you went back in and did your cleaning for me."

GiGi decided to do as bidden, and looked at the shop-door which was closed fast shut- with no light on inside. She put on her wings, and went round to the front of the house to the main door, where through the stained glass she could make out a light inside and to the left the voices of the Trusty's in the Tearoom. She knocked, rather hopelessly as the Trusty's din drowned out the possibility of the Warden hearing anything from the back of the house.

A young man appeared on the step beside her, dressed in jeans, hoodie and top hat, carrying a walking cane. He wore Wellington Boots that were several sizes too big for him.

"What do you want, and what is your Business here?" he asked.

"I want to be let in." said GiGi, "I'm late for a Bored meeting, for which I am a Trusty, and also I need to clean the house first."

"Well you won't get an answer knocking like that." he said "You need to rap, harder, and with a cane, like THIS!" He approached the door, twirled his cane, and rapped three times. 

The door swung open, and there on the doormat, was the cat.

Concerning which, dear Em, we shall hear more next week. For now my little one- enjoy your new baby sister. Soon she will grow bigger and then you can play together. In the mean-time, be helpful to Mummy, give Daddy a hard-time, and I shall make you some goose-wings of your own for when you come at Christmas!

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxxxx

It's my own Unintention.

Dearest Emily,

Well, my journey to work at the Bookroom this morning became rather an adventure in itself- and I started to feel rather like GiGi the character in your little sister's new book!

It all began as normal- 'Rush Hour' hereabouts actually means me rushing because I'm late- free-wheeling down the lane, around a corner then so on downwards to meet the old railway line. Then it's a bare ten minute cycle along the leafy old track, with the odd interruption- a hello to a man and his dog, or a stop and let a horse-rider go by, and heigh-ho there I am opening up the shop for the day.

Not today though.

There I was cycling along amidst my own thoughts- admittedly vaguely noticing a few more puddles to navigate than usual- when I was suddenly caught short by a proper big flood barring my way. The house next to what used to be a crossroads, but was now a river- had been deserted. I must have been stock-still, mouth agape for quite some time. Late as usual, I pondered my choices. If I went round the road-way, which would also require turning back the way I came- it'd take me a good additional forty minutes. So, I decided to go 'off-piste' and walked through what I'd wrongly considered to be a large puddle leading to a field. Ordinarily the road must have dipped down quite a bit there- as I found my padded boots covered, and now rather heavy as they soaked up as much water as they could hold. My jeans reciprocated the favour, and I was reminded of conscious exercise sessions taken in Hyde Park in years gone by, when I would run its perimeter weighed down by choice with ankle weights. Not to be deterred, I spied a field, with a gate and without a Bull in- and traversed across this diagonally to ( I thought common-sensibly ) rejoin the railway track post-flood. I hadn't reckoned with the field also being water-logged. But, my trusty old 70's bike and I squished across this- and met with a small bracken-covered valley- a four tier barbed wire fence, and my beloved rush-hour normality beyond this. So- bike lifted over, I just about managed the fence myself- and with a rip on the seat of my jeans- rejoined the track, smoked a celebratory Camel, and continued as normal.

But still, a good two hours later as I begin to write this, with my boots drying on the radiator beside my desk, my socks past caring about in the bin- and two thirds of my days wages spent on a natty pair of red over the knee socks at a nearby establishment, my soaking jeans leave my feet rather cold- and I'm sneezing up a storm.

What a palaver Em! Back to our story methinks...

CHAPTER SEVEN- GIGI AND THE CAT- 'IT'S MY OWN UNINTENTION'.

 " I heard no sound as I stood,

 But the rivulet from the lawn,

Running down to my own dark wood,

Or the voice of the long sea-wave as it swell'd,

Now and then in the dim gray dawn"

                                                                                                Tennyson-Maud

AFTER A WHILE, the noise seemed to gradually die down, till all was dead silence, and GiGi lifted up her head in some alarm.

There was no-one to be seen, and her first thought was that she had missed something- as though something had happened but she didn't see it- with a feeling like a dream you cannot remember upon wakening- she thought later. She also remembered later, that it was at this point in her adventures that the sky was at its darkest, and that looking up into it- she had seen no Mrs Cameraman, no little Angel Alice, but she had thought she made out the face of a black cat, and that it was smiling from ear to ear at her. 

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of:- "Ahoy! Ahoy! Mrs Middleton, I presume?"

This greeting came from a White Knight, who drew up at GiGi's side, and promptly tumbled off of his horse, head-first, into a ditch. 

Mumbling away to himself, he stood up, re-mounted his horse, and put back his shaggy hair with both hands.

His armour was quite ill-fitting and GiGi thought he looked like quite the most unlikely soldier that she could ever imagine.

"Hello. Are you all-right, can I help?" she said.

"No, no, it's quite all-right" said the Knight "I am here to help you. I shall see you safe to the edge of the wood".

At this, he smiled gently, and slid sideways off of his horse.

Climbing back on, both horse and rider continued alongside GiGi repeating a series of unfortunate events along the way. This began with the horse stopping (which it frequently did) and then the Knight tumbling off either over its head, its back-side, or to the left or the right. GiGi learned quite quickly that it was best to walk at a fair distance between herself and the White Knight- just to be on the safe-side.

"Ahem, you appear to have quite a bit of trouble staying on your horse. Have you not had much practice?"

" No, no, yes, yes- I have had lot's of practise. Lots of time with horses, indeed its my own Unintention, that is the problem- always has been!" said the Knight by way of explanation. "Anyhow, the important thing is to see you safely out of the wood. My Unintention will always be the same, as ever!"

GiGi was just about to venture that she didn't quite understand, when the horse startled again, stopping short quite suddenly- which projected the Knight straight over its head and he then fell on top of his own head exactly in the path where GiGi was walking.

She was quite frightened this time, and said so in an anxious tone as she picked him up "I hope no bones are broken?"

"None to speak of" the Knight said, as if he didn't mind breaking two or three of them.

"As I was saying. My Unintention has always been like this- which is why I put a bell on his Bridle". So, GiGi gleaned, that the horse's name  was Unintentional, and that he had always been like this. However, GiGi did not quite get the bell-bit.

"So, how does the bell help?" she said.

"Ah, well- that was a stroke of genius" said the Knight. 'He kept stopping you see. I decided that the bell would help keep him focussed on where he was going- rather like a carrot with a donkey- what is more- the sound of the bell would make him continue to look at it! Clever- huh?"

GiGi bit her lip- as she was about to say that it was not working very well- but the Knight carried on.

"And, it works! You should have seen him before. He was never able to walk more than five paces without stopping short and throwing me off.Now, as well, he has an audible early warning system- so others know he is coming!"

At this, he smiled and looked so pleased with himself that GiGi thought better of response.

There was a short silence after this, and then the Knight went on again. "I do have clever ideas you see, I daresay you noticed, last time when you picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful?"

"You were a little grave" said GiGi.

"Well, I was just inventing a new song- one which answers questions, you see. Would you like to hear it?"

"Ye, es" said GiGi hesitatingly. "Is it very long?" as she had heard a good deal of poetry already that hadn't really made an awful lot of sense to her ears.

"It's long" said the Knight " but, it is very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it- either it brings tears to their eyes, or else..."

"Or else what?" said GiGi, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.

"Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is 'Past Forward', but that's just what it is called for now. I think it has a better name coming soon 'Ways and Means'. No, I changed that- better is 'Portals of Fate' or not, it could just as well be 'Passing through the Gate'."

So saying, he stopped his horse, and let the reigns fall on its neck, and then slowly beating the time with one hand, and with a faint smile lighting up his face, as if he was enjoying the music in his head, he began...

"I'll tell thee everything I know. There's little to relate.

It's all about Mrs Cameraman,

A-passing through a gate.

Where are you Mrs C, I said,

And why not in your crib?

And her answer trickled through my head,

Like water through a sieve.

She said she was among the skies,

And couldn't reach the gate.

Those in the House who couldn't see,

Had helped to seal her fate.

But while in uffish thought she stood,

A soul came gallumphing through,

And tallied in the Tulgy wood,

Giving hope as to what it would do.

So, tell her once, and tell her twice,

When they are in the 'Purgatreeeee!' 

To get her broom, look twice at the moon,

And sweep the house 'thrice cleeen!'

( at the end of each second line in this verse, his voice got very shrill )

And now, if 'er I put,

My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze my right-hand foot,

Into a left-hand shoe.

I weep for it reminds me so,

Of the Mrs C, I used to know.

Whose look is mild, whose speech now slow,

Whose fame is whiter than the snow,

Whose eyes, like cinders all-aglow,

Who seemed distracted by her woe.

Who rocks her body to and fro.

And mutters mumblings sweet and low,

As if her mouth is full of dough,

And snorting like a Gruffalo,

It now seems like long ago,

She told me how she should be shown."

At the end of this ballad, he gathered up his reigns, and turned the horse's head along the road by which they had come. "You've only a few yards to go," he said "down the hill, and over that little brook, and then you'll be back at the house. But, you'll stay and see me off first?" he added as GiGi turned with an eager look in the direction to which he had pointed. "I sha'n't be long. You'll wait and wave your handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road! I think I will be encouraged you see."

"Of course I'll wait," said GiGi: "and thank you very much for coming so far- and for the song- I liked it very much."

"I hope so," the Knight said doubtfully: "But you didn't cry as much as I thought you would."

So they shook hands and the Knight rode slowly into the forest. "It won't take long to see him off, I expect," GiGi said to herself, as she stood watching him. "there he goes, right on his head as usual! However, he gets on again pretty easily- that comes of having things here and there so much." So she went on, talking to herself, as she watched the horse walking leisurely along the road, and the Knight tumbled off, first to one side and then the other. After the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, and she waved her handkerchief to him, and waited until he was out of sight.

"I hope it encouraged him" she said, as she turned to run down the hill; "and now for the last brook, and back at last to the house, and my Cleaning! How grand it sounds!" A very few steps brought her to the edge of the brook "Home, at last!" she cried, as she bounded across.

And so we end tonight, dearest Em. lovely to chat with you yesterday. Shame your Magic Wand couldn't conjour up more fireworks!

Sleep tight,

Your ever-loving Grand-Mother, GiGi xxxx

GiGi and the Cat- Don Churchillion and the Litany Bird

Dearest Em,

Well the week begins with a great big storm! You bumped your head, and we are still awaiting the arrival of your new baby sister. So let's divert ourselves and get another chapter drafted- over to you Em for your perusal...

BY THIS TIME, GiGi had given up being surprised at anything that happened here-abouts, as she walked away from the shop and her older self and Emily who continued their chattering and laughing.
She walked down a hill in what she considered a likely direction back towards the house and the Bored Meeting. Suddenly the Champagne bottle came rolling down the hill, knocking her off her feet and shouting 'whooahhh!' as it headed towards a tree. There it stopped, and was promptly joined by a Magpie, who pecked away at the top until it had managed to get the bottle upright. GiGi now saw that the bottle was a sort of man- well, it had a man's head anyhow. The bottle-man was laughing and looked straight through her.

GiGi stood up, dusted herself off, and thought she might just be ready for an apology. She waited, arms crossed.

"It's very provoking" the Bottle Man said, after a long silence, looking away from GiGi as he spoke "to be stared at, with crossed arms as well, very!"

"I", began GiGi... "Well; I just thought you might perhaps be about to apologise for knocking me over!"

"Some people", said the Bottle Man- looking at a tree "expect all the wrong things. No common-sense- none whatsoever!" GiGi didn't quite know what to make of this last sentence, or how to speak further with this 'person' whose glance suggested he was addressing a tree rather than her. However, he, and the Magpie, were rather crossing her path, and she deliberated going around them perhaps, whilst standing a while in thought.

Whilst doing so, the words of the poem she had first started reading at the house, came back to her and she pieced them together and spoke them out loud;

Twasn't brillig, as the Slithey Toves,

All growled and gambled, and were grave.

All whimsy were her Borogoves,

And the Home-Rath's dismayed.

"Beware the 'Ware-of-All" my Girl!

The mouth that snipes, the claws that snatch,

Beware the Monstrous Crow, and Shun,

The frumious Can-all-Snatch!"

She took her Besum Broom in hand,

Long time the vexome for she sought-

So rested she, by the Purgatree,

And stood a while in thought

And as in faffing thought, she stood,

The ware-of-all, with eyes aflame,

Came baffling through the tulgy-wood,

And murmured as it came!

One-two! One two! And through 

The besum-broom went snicker-snack!

Just then, the man looked her straight in the eyes, and said:-

"Oh, that's not the end of that poem you know, there are a clear two and a half more verses, and- don't just stand there chattering away to yourself, pray tell us your name and state your Business here!"

" My name is GiGi, and I have no Business here that I know of, at least, I don't think so".

"You don't think!" said the man. "Well, that's rather stupid! One ought to think, at the very least. What is more- of course- you have Business here, else you wouldn't be here! Why, I am Don Churchillion, and I know my Business, and so, my girl- should you!".

Just then, the bird decided to stop pecking at Don Churchillion's head. He spoke-

"I am Litany Magpie, and I; know my Business, and Don Churchillion's Business, and your Business, and Tweedleton's Business, and the Business of Franklin D Rarebit, and Business concerning Harpy Lapette. I also know the Business of the Slithey Tove, and Ethan Safertee's Business is known to me. The Business of the Cautionary Tail is second to none in my knowledge. The Business of the Lily, and the Rosebuds and the Daisies are all of my known. Mrs Cameraman's Business and that of Alice in her helping, are of my own deep regard. I, make it my Business to know about the Business of all about here. Business information is shiny and like treasure. Each pearl, I could string into a necklace of wisdom about your throat!"

GiGi interjected here. "Excuse me, but did you say that you knew my Business, and Mrs Cameraman's Business? Please tell me what they are?"

Litany replied, "No. I said- ' I am Litany Magpie, and I; know my Business  and Don Churchillion's Business, and your Business, and Tweedleton's Business, and the Business of Franklin D Rarebit, and Business concerning Harpy Lapette."

Don Churchillion cut in here with a polite cough. "You shouldn't encourage him to repeat himself you know- he does this quite often. THANK-YOU LITANY" he said "That is quite sufficient for now".

The bird looked rather crestfallen, and continued repeating its discourse though quietly to itself now.

"Now, let us get back to your last remark".

"I am afraid that I don't remember it" said GiGi.

"Well, that's no good at all" said Don Churchillion "Being afraid of remarks, is quite simply something that Churchillion's DO NOT DO. Now, just take a good look at me. I am one who has descended from a Great Leader. You know I am, mayhap you'll never see such another, and to show you I'm not proud, you may shake hands with me."

He smiled, and looked rather pleased with himself, but no hand appeared.

"Yes, I have Churchillian ears, you know. If I need to get the answers to anything at all then we all get together and we decide what to do about it. Only the other day, we were all in a cabinet, and discussing the ways of this and that, and how the numbers didn't add up, and we decided that it just was not good enough- and that something should be done, and all in all we decided that it was a funny Business".

At this, the Bird piped up " You see, that's what I said. I know Don Churchillion's Business, and your Business, and Tweedleton's Business..."

"EXCUSE ME PLEASE BOTH OF YOU" GiGi interrupted "I apologise for cutting in, but perhaps both of you would be so kind as to enlighten me as to what exactly my Busines is?"

They both looked at each other, and Don Churchillion spoke...

"But, you already know this- you said it yourself in the poem!"

"I did?" said GiGi.

"Oh, dear me". Don Churchillion shook his head, seconded by the Litany Bird, who then whispered in his ear.

Don Churchillion spoke. "If you had all of the numbers and then took one away, what would you have?"

"I'm sorry, what numbers?" said GiGi.

"The numbers. The ones that don't add up." said Don Churchillion.

"But, that doesn't make sense" said GiGi "If the numbers don't add up, then how can you ask someone to take one away?".

"Well there you are, that's what I said. " said Don Churchillion "You are a clever girl- we agree with each other!".

GiGi tried another tack "You mentioned that I said it myself in the poem?" They both nodded at once.

"What, exactly, did I say in the poem?"

"Oh, dear me!" Don Churchillion and the Litany Bird shook their heads in tandem. "Shall I repeat myself? " said Litany "NO!" said Don Churchillion. "I shall SPELL IT OUT FOR HER".

"GiGi, Dear Girl. Your Business is to enable Mrs Cameraman to come back home."

They looked at each other and sighed ("She's picked a dim one here") was said as an aside.

"You have a broom, don't you?"

GiGi did, and she said so-

"Well, the 'Ware-of-All' needs defeating quite clearly, and what is more- all the nay-natterers are in the Purgatree right now- so you can go about your Business freely! Now, we don't think that you intend to stay here the rest of your life; so, Good-Bye!". Don Churchillion promptly shut his eyes tightly.

At this, both turned around, and waved in unison stating again "Good-Bye!".

GiGi thought about speaking, but at that moment was interrupted by the deafening sound of stomping feet...

And that's the end for tonight, dear Emily. 

Sleep tight, dream nice dreams,

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi,   

xxxx