A Renewed Acquaintance

The tavern didn't exactly appear to be your average Weatherspoons but alas I had little time to explore it further as I was ushered quickly upstairs by my two gnome escorts and bundled into a room where, without further explanation, the door was slammed shut and I was left alone. Rather pointlessly I tried the door to see if it had been left unlocked, but unsurprisingly, it hadn't.

I went over to the bed and sat down on what I presumed would be a straw filled mattress, as that seems to be the norm for such places as this, according to all the fiction I have read over the years. Sadly, whoever ran this particular tavern had failed to read the same titles as I had, and I found myself sitting on boards instead. Hard boards, covered by a thin, worn blanket which itself had a small colony of lice that had moved in and seemed as settled as they could be. I even saw a tiny, well manicured lawn that the respectable lice had tended carefully, complete with flower borders and a minuscule swing seat.

Careful not to upset the lice further, who seemed to be shaking small, licey fists at me for interrupting what would appear to have been their annual fete, I got up and instead sat on a chair that had been provided for that very purpose. I was busy looking around for a plug socket for my laptop but only managing to find dust, splinters and a mean looking spider sharpening scissors on the back of a millipede, when the door was unlocked and in stepped someone that made me sit very still.

With my mouth open.

Wide.

'Hello' Sidney said, striding into the room, wearing what appeared to be a chainmail bikini.

'You're....here' was all I could manage, followed by a pause and then 'Talking?'

'Yeth' Sidney said, smiling broadly. 'It appearth that here I am able to talk, but I theem to have a lithp.The barmaid downthtairth found it motht appealing. Thee gave me her number.'

I continued to stare at my cat.

'Do you like my armour?' he said, twirling round and rattling the links of his impractical swimwear.

'It's very........nice' I was finding the link between my brain and mouth had been severed by shock.

'Yeth I thought tho' Sidney continued to beam at me.

'Tho' he said, walking over to the bed where he sat down. I heard the screams of lice and the crunching of what I presumed was the ferris wheel they had erected for their fete. 'What ith going on then? They didn't tell me much.'

'Me neither' I said just as the door opened and in stepped someone who, I had a funny feeling, might be about to let us know just what was going on.

Tolkieny

This morning I feel I have to recount the conversation which ensued after being faced with the previously mentioned hedge, as I feel it one that is worth a mention. I will revert to the present tense for the entire dialogue so as not to distract from the overall tone of what I experienced. I thank you for your time and patience which, during the conversation, I had begun to lose somewhat.

Me: Why has that hedge got a skirt on?
Wilf: What hedge?
Me: The big green leafy thing in front of us, with twiggy bits.....and a skirt.
Wilf: I can't see a hedge.
(At this point I had looked at him for a few seconds, then raised my eyebrows and shook my head slowly. Really slowly.)
Me: That hedge.
(I pointed to what was then the most obvious hedge in the world, whether Gnomic or human.)
Wilf: Oh that's not a hedge. That's a shrub.
(I remember sighing deeply and rather pointedly.)
Me: O.k, so why has that shrub got a skirt on?
Wilf: Because she says that trousers chafe.
Me: She?
(It was at this point that the shrub joined in the conversation, causing, for the briefest of seconds, my pulmonary artery to almost give up its job of blood pumping, pack its bags and go on holiday somewhere nice and sunny, leaving me to fight for my life.)
Shrub In Skirt: Helloooooooo, I am here you know, please don't talk about me when I am so blatantly stood in front of you.
Wilf: Say sorry and stop asking stupid questions.
(I looked down at Wilf, considered questioning the whole concept of 'stupid' but gave up.)
Me: Sorry
Shrub In Skirt: I should think so too. Are you always this disrespectful to gates?
Me: Gates?
Wilf: (Whispering out of the corner of his mouth).............
Me: You'll have to speak up you're too far away from my ear.
Wilf: (Shouting) She is The Gate.
Me: Oh. Which means what exactly?
Shrub In Skirt: 'I am The Gate through which all who pass will reach the land beyond.'
Me: Why are you talking all Tolkieny all of a sudden?
Shrub In Skirt: It was a quote. So, are you going through or what?
Wilf: Yes we are.
Shrub In Skirt: Righty ho, off you pop then.

And then Wilf opened The Gate which still, to all intents and purposes looked like a hedge in a skirt, and him and his rather quiet gnomey friend prodded me forward with their pointy sticks.

Once through The Gate I expected to find myself in some kind of old tavern, with sawdust on the floor and lots and lots of gnomes in various states of drunkeness. I even expected to see maybe an adventurer or two, scarred from battles with dragons or something and, quite possibly, a shady character with a hood in the corner of the room.

Which is precisely what I did find.

Hedge

It was a fresh morning this morning, one where even the birds had put on tiny coats and crammed their feathered wings deep down into snuggly pockets. Some of them had even pulled on ridiculous looking hats with ear flaps and scarves in an attempt to keep both warm and to look more dapper in front of their chirpy friends. Sadly, they failed miserably and simply looked silly.

At approximately seven o'clock this morning I found myself standing on the patch of wasteground by 'Chippies Chippy' after being forced to spend the night in a cardboard box with two gnomes, not something I ever thought I would be writing, let alone doing. It wasn't the warmest of nights and, thanks to one of the gnomes, Wilf, having adenoidal problems and twitchy legs on top of the fact that he kept stealing most of the small, smelly blanket, it was not one of the conducive nights for sleep either. Apparently though, from what I could discern from a particularly heated discussion between my two abductors, we had arrived too late yesterday for them to take me any further, hence the overnight accommodation of a cardboardy kind.

But, even though the time was still so early that even Sidney was probably still asleep, having nightmares about enclosed spaces and small hammers, I was handed a blindfold. I dutifully tied it over my eyes and, with sharp jabs of pointy sticks, I was ushered onwards.

Finally, after what seemed like minutes of stumbling like a fool, I was told to remove the blindfold which I thankfully did, blinking in the morning light and rubbing at my eyes like a small child who's been kidnapped by small men who are only usually seen fishing by the ponds of old people. And then I saw it in front of me.

A hedge.

Wearing a skirt.

Hmmm

Well what can I say?

It simply is astounding. Something which I am quite sure hardly anyone with eyes that are vaguely human has ever seen before. Unless of course, those possesing the eyes have actually seen a bus at some point, no matter how distant, in their lives.

I am sitting on the number 82 bus, with a gnome in each pocket of my cardigan. I can feel the tips of their tiny, but painful, sharp pointy sticks digging through the 100% acrylic, nudging sharply against my sides at every jolt of this fusty mode of public transport.

I am being taken to a secret location where, I am assured, I will be shown this fantastical thing/place/person. For what purpose I am being taken to see it, I am as yet, not sure.

As an apparent gesture of goodwill for my seamless compliance, I was allowed to speak to Sidney on a cumbersome looking mobile phone which was handed over to me by a burly gnome who also just happened to be called Burly. The conversation with Sidney was, as you have probably already guessed, rather one sided, although I am sure I heard him purr at least once. It was either a purr or him doing that funny thing he does in his throat when he's eaten too much grass.

Either way, I was reassured somewhat by the gesture alone that Sidney has been released unharmed and uncharcoled.

Judging by the pointed nudging coming from my adjacent pockets, I think we are now arriving at our stop. It seems to be the one by 'Chippies Chippy' and the wasteground where the old cinema was bulldozed by mistake, whilst showing 'Gremlins 2' a few years ago now.

I shall leave this blog entry and get off the bus with my hips being pinned from either side by small gnomes with pointy sticks.

My next blog entry may be one of wonder and amazement, or I may be on another bus.

Oh the excitement that comes with being kidnapped by gnomes is almost unbearable sometimes.

Under Garments

Late yesterday afternoon as I had been trying to work out just how I could squeeze some salmon cat food through the microwave door without turning Sidney into something resembling cat shaped BBQ briquettes, I received a hand delivered note which was rather surruptitiously pushed under my kitchen door from the garden.
The entire thing was written in some form of cyrillic cuniform. Whether this was an over sight on behalf of whoever wrote the note, or some attempt to impresss me with their knowledge of outmoded forms of writing, I wasn't sure. Needless to say, thanks to the evening class I took a few years ago in cyrillic cuniform after my initial choice of 'Make Your Own Jigsaws' was cancelled due to poor initial interest, I was able to decipher the enitre thing within seconds.
This impressive feat of translation was made somewhat easier by the fact that all the note said was 'Pack your things, you're coming with us.'
I laughed out loud and even held it against the glass in the microwave door so that Sidney could have a giggle at the faux-assertive nature that had been attempted.
As I was calming down I turned around to find a smallish gnome, one I had not seen before, pointing an extremely heavy looking crossbow at my shin. 'The note said to pack your things. Get packing' he said.
'Now then I don't think there's any need for that kind of...' I had not previously realised just how much pain a tiny bolt, from an equally tiny crossbow, (albeit a heavy looking one) can cause.
Needless to say I began packing immediately.
Alas now though I have no idea what the time is at present. All I know is that they promised to free Sidney just as soon as I was out of the house. I am currently in my shed, in the dark with just my laptop and a cardigan as they have taken the rest of my things. Apparently I am going to be shown something only a few have been allowed to see before which is either going to be extremely interesting or may prejudice my health. Either way, I am beginning to think that maybe I should have packed more clean underwear.

Goodbye Sidney?

Today I woke bright and early to a rather nice sunny day. I pulled on my dressing gown and went downstairs for my morning cup of tea and a glance at the mornings newspaper which had been unceremoniously crammed through my letter box.

Upon entering the kitchen however, I was met with a sight that was far from conducive for my early morning sojourn with tea and news.

The cupboard where the Gnomes had been residing in their bijou jam jars was open. There was rice everywhere from a packet that looked as though it had been split on purpose and the jam jars were smashed to pieces. How I didn't hear any of the commotion that this act of vandalism and rampant destruction would have caused I do not know and can only put my apparent deafness down to the fact that I sleep with ear plugs in, in a pathetic attempt to ward off the noise of the car down the road spluttering into life each morning.

More importantly though, was the disappearance of the Gnomes themselves.

I pulled out packets of lentils and pearl barley, shifted jars of Horlicks and honey but there was no sign of any of them.

It was then that I noticed Sidney. Usually he is to be found rubbing around my legs waiting for his breakfast, purring so loudly it makes me smile as I ignore him and concentrate on my own needs first. But this morning he wasn't actually capable of rubbing around my legs or indeed purring.

It was the way the microwave had started to move slightly that had drawn my attention away from my search for the Gnomes. I stood up and was surprised to find Sidney staring at me through the glass of the door, his little mouth covered with some sort of tape and his four legs and tail trussed up with string. I was reaching out for the door when his instant look of horror and rapid eye movements towards the door handle drew my attention away from his stickered face to the side of the microwave.

Some sort of contraption had been contrived so that if I attempted to open the door of the microwave the small toffee hammer I usually keep in one of the drawers for Christmas, would fall down onto the 'Quick Cook' button and that would be the end of Sidney.

As I stood pondering the predicament I noticed a small note taped to the 'Defrost' button.

It read 'Wait for further instructions.'

Which is why I am now sitting here writing this and Sidney is still in the microwave. I am waiting for further instructions which as yet, have failed to arrive. The waiting itself has, quite frankly, disrupted my breakfast time in such a way that I have only just managed to force down my fourth cup of tea and fifth slice of toast, but nevertheless, I will wait and see what the rest of the day brings with it.

Hello

Today, while searching for a tin of 'Rouged Red' silk emulsion in the cupboard under the stairs, I discovered a family of gnomes. At first I was rather taken aback, not as much, I'll admit, as Jeffrey the male gnome who was in the process of lowering his trousers for a reason I thankfully will never find out, but after I'd introduced myself I began to warm to the idea of having them in the house.

I introduced them to Sidney, my cat, showed them around the kitchen and pointed out the locations of pots and pans, plates and cutlery. I instructed them on how to use both the oven and the hob and was surprised to find that Hilda already had quite a good working knowledge of Indesit gas cookers. We then settled down in the lounge for a nice cup of tea with a few Digestives thrown in to heighten my hospitality just that bit further.

Jeffrey explained that he and his family had been living in the house three doors down for a good part of the year, but had moved after being discovered. Hilda then said that they would have to move once again now that I too had discovered them as it is apparently against Gnomic law for them to stay in a house once they have been stumbled upon.

Sadly I had already become far too attatched to the family to allow them to move on and so I have, at the time of writing, got them tucked up quite happily in their own individual jam jars in the cupboard where I keep the rice. I have made provisions for them to be able to continue to breathe by puncturing holes in the lids and have given them a tiny piece of blanket to keep them cosy which I'm sure they appreciate despite the rather colourful language that both Jeffrey and Hilda seem intent on using. They most likely picked that kind of language up from the family three doors down who swear like troopers well into the early hours and have a car that coughs itself awake every morning ruining my lie-ins.

Besides, by allowing them to stay here in the cupboard, they'll make a fantastic talking point at all of the parties I'm considering having soon, once I begin to make some friends again after losing most of my best ones in last months debacle with the Salmon en Croute. I can just imagine the faces of my guests as I carry in the jam jars under a hand towel, whisking it away at the moment of triumph. Their gasps and adoring cries will ring around my house for years to come, ensuring that I am talked about in the neighbourhood for much more than simply accidentally poisoning five of my friends with a fish.