Return

There is no doubt that an absense such as mine must be explained. It indeed remains to be seen if those dear fond readers will forgive such a lapse. My last post, I shudder to look upon it now, with it's exuberant photograph. Oh what travails have I passed since then. That snake, that worm, that treacherous bedevilled vertebrate, Hieronymus. Suffice it to say that he was indeed a creature with otherworldly connections, which he used to entrap me in Hades. He lured me onto Charon's ferry and set me down the river Styx. It has taken me this long to extricate myself and only after playing endless rounds of backgammon with a very bored Persephone. She finally relented and allowed me to leave (and this only I suspect because a talented Go player had lately come to Hades and she was getting bored of backgammon!)
Upon my return the ever gracious Norma Jean gave me tea and cupcakes. It seems she is allowing
The Constance Spry Cookery Book to lie fallow in favour of The Constance Spry Book of Flower Arranging as her oracular conduit. She offered to give me a reading. I was so discombobulated I was not sure which aspect of my troubled existence the oracle might address. Nevertheless a reading was given and these were the words offered.

"We do not know whether everyone sees the same colours and I have often heard two people give different names to what seems to be the same colour. Try all colours in different combinations..."

This expansive missive from the fates has led me back here dear reader.

Finding a Bear-Leader

Three days, three days.
The Anonymous Patron had given me only three days to find my Bear-Leader (a chaperon for my Grand Tour).
I arrived, despondent, at Norma Jean's front door.
She led me into the kitchen and made some soothing tea.
I explained the problem. Just as she was reaching for that infallible Oracle, the Constance Spry Cookery Book, an insistent tapping attracted our attention.
Hieronymous the axolotyl was uncharacteristically mobile within his domain, his gills aquiver.
Norma Jean leaned closer, nodding, her face illuminated by the glow from a small model Moulin Rouge, a recent addition to the extensive decor of his abode.
'But of course, my dear Found, you need search no further. Here is your Bear-Leader.
Well, Axolotyl Leader I suppose really, but nonetheless, a most suitable chaperon for your European Odyssey'
This I had to agree was true, for if I took on faith Norma Jean's assertion of mystic guidance from the pages of the Constance Spry Cookery Book, I had to accept also her certitude, that Hieronymous, in a past form, was indeed a milliner in Revolutionary Paris.
'But Norma Jean, I cannot understand him' I quailed as the flaw in this gleaming jewel of insight became apparent.
'But you shall. We shall practice. It really is not hard at all'
And so it transpired that, as you see from the photo, Hieronymous and I set sail on this grand adventure together.
He, comfortably ensconced in a specially fitted tank in my bag, myself attired in my new striped suit. I had some misgivings about the crew of the vessel, however Xavier assured me the blessings of Poseidon were with us.
The Anonymous Patron even came to see us off, having wholeheartedly approved my choice of chaperon. He arrived in a curtained sedan chair of red velvet, one gloved hand appearing to give a little wave of benediction. And so the Grand Tour began and we were bound for Greece.

The Grand Tour Began like this...

So. It all began with another meeting at the Anonymous Patron's Club, The Stag on the Moor.
Again I found the gentleman seated, cloaked in impenetrable shadows, apart from his elegantly clad feet. These were elongated in exotic slippers of bright yellow satin and were quite distracting.
Until he spoke.
His deep voice drew my attention up towards his shadowy visage.

'I believe you should take The Grand Tour' he said

'Ah' I replied.
The Grand Tour. I imagined myself in Vienna, in Rome, Florence, in Paris. I grew quite dizzy.

'However' he said 'I think you should begin in Greece'

I saw myself crowned with olive branches upon a pebbled shore, dancing, Byronic.
I nodded.

'And you will need a Bear-Leader' he said.
I must have looked flummoxed

'A tutor, a chaperon, some one to guide and guard you' he said

'Do I really need...I mean after all' I said

'No I insist. It must be so. You will find a suitable Bear-Leader within three days. It is mandatory.' I blinked.

'You may go' said he.

Fumbling, nodding, clearing my throat I was shown to the exit.

Poseidon, Hieronymous and Norma Jean

Where have I been? Where have I been?

Well may you ask and indeed my silence has been long and profound.

Dear Friends, too much time has passed for a cursory reckoning of my doings.
Let me begin with the most notable news.

Having performed the office of Best Man to Xavier and his lovely bride Ariadne, I now find myself in an even more serious role. That of God Parent! Yes it's true, I am God Father to a delightful small fellow they have named Poseidon (of course).

This personage is small of stature, boomingly loud and large of appetite, he fills our vision from horizon to horizon's edge and beyond, we are all his subjects and he is our small Imperial Majesty and we adore him.


During his gestation I was out of the country on an adventure which was, in part, the reason for my long silence.

I have been in spheres Celestial and only heard of Xavier's impending fatherhood mere days before Poseidon appeared.

It all began with the Anonymous Patron sending me on another art junket. What was to have been a short story, became however, an epic tale and one which I shall divulge in due course.

Of note too in my absence, that crow, that partridge, that porcupine Hugo (Seneschal to the Anonymous Patron) has begun to romance Norma Jean with, of all things buttons, leaving little packets of them on her doorstep with fragranced notes of his appalling poetry, and she seems to like it! Still Hieronymous (her Axolotyl companion) and I are back now. But this brings me to the beginning of my travels, and why Hieronymous was with me and where we went...

Wedding Part 1

The Wedding, The Wedding, The Wedding.
As a little aperitif I submit Ariadne's triumphant procession to the altar. Xavier appears and then so do I (they are both a little put out by my appearance)

The Aura, The Axolotyl and the Astroscan

Well as I described, Norma Jean and I had been busying ourselves with Ariadne's dress. Samples were sewn, drawings were coloured, maquettes were constructed and tinsel liberally applied. Finally Ariadne was summoned for a fitting. We did try so hard to fulfill her declaration that her dress should forever stretch the boundary between the idea of a dress and the great beyond.
Sadly however she was crushingly, devastatingly, vocally, (shall I say hysterically? Yes I shall) hysterically disappointed. She wailed, she threw fabric samples across the room, she flourished her hankie and thoroughly upset poor Hieronymous, and I will admit rather discomposed us too.
So after she was pacified with tea and another goodie from Marguerite Patten, Ginger Prune Crunch (which Norma Jean remarked later might also help dislodge any unwelcome 'humours'), she went home and we were left dispirited.
All our labours and inspiration for naught. How could our collective creative sensibilities have gone so astray? Norma Jean said perhaps we should not have asked Hieronymous to choose the colours, but I said no, he was an excellent judge of hue. The fault must lie with our interpretation of her Idea. (I actually believe that having eschewed a traditional dress Ariadne now regrets this hasty rebellion and wishes to be 'beautiful'.)
So downcast were we, we could not face a new beginning (even despite the enlivening effects of the Ginger Prune Crunch). Norma Jean, ever resourceful being that she is, declared,
“Found dear man we must have some distraction” and produced a leaflet entitled 'Mind Body Spirit Festival Guide'.
So to this munificent gathering of all things eccentric, earnest and eternally hopeful we ventured. Hieronymous showed signs of great animation in his small 'carry tank' (made for Norma Jean by Hugo it resembles a little pink handbag with glass sides front and back.)
The aisles were crowded and the stalls closely packed. The haunting melody of pan pipes could be heard from a distant stage and the queue for Psychic Readings was disconcertingly long. Norma Jean pulled me past it saying
“We have Marguerite Patten and Constance Spry and we need no others.”
Norma Jean found a stall with gloriously chromatic clothes and was quite charmed by the proprietress who greeted her with the welcome words
“In my range you are a size small” which are not words I gather she hears often.
As she basked in this phenomenon I wandered past a stall selling majestic chunks of crystal and glittering racks of gemstone necklaces. I gravitated into Aura Photography. The price was high, too high for me really, but the temptation to view my own halo was too great. I sat before the mystical camera and placed my hand on a metal plate. I swear I felt the tingle of otherworldly presences pass through my mortal flesh as I sat there. I was pleased to discover myself aglow with a greenish haze leading to yellow flashes and what appeared to be a purple firework fountaining from the top of my head. The vendor handed me the photo rather reverently and I swear the other patrons seemed put out.
“They just have Aura Envy” said Norma Jean loudly as she shuffled me out, now gloriously robed in fuchsia pink.
We sipped on Pomegranate juice and nibbled Buddah cakes. We were discoursed on Enlightenment and the Way. We were assessed by spiritual advisors and Reiki masters, we were dosed with wheatgrass and ritually purified with sage smoke (this last seemed to distress Hieronymous. “It's the karma don't you know” said Norma Jean cryptically.)
Finally we finished with full spectrum light therapy, which cheered us up no end (a yellow light was shone onto our upturned faces and we felt like sunflowers). I was sorely tempted by the flashing electro 1970's inspired panel that was the Astroscan but the spruiker scared Hieronymous by tapping on his carry tank and declaring “This old boy needs a scan” and blowing a puff of cigar smoke at his glass. We decided it was time to go.
So we went back to Norma Jean's, only to find Ariadne waiting on the doorstep, flowers in hand and full of chagrin.
"I was wrong, so wrong my dear friends" she said, whereupon Norma Jean enveloped her in a fuchsia pink embrace and said "Now now dear heart, let's us go in and make you Beautiful". And so we did, as you shall see when I report on the wedding.

An Axolotyl's Dream

The Anonymous Patron has summoned me to his lair at the Gentleman's Club 'Stag on the Moor'. I must admit a certain degree of trepidation. I have not as yet furnished him with a proposal for another film, though I do have a vision.
All thoughts of film making must stand aside for the spectacle, the undertaking, the broo ha ha that is the wedding of my friend Xavier to his bride Ariadne. I am to be Xavier's best man, I am proud to say, and am also assisting Ariadne in her quest for the perfect costume statement. Well her recent comment will give some idea what this latter task involves,
“Found dear friend, this is not merely a dress, or rather, the notion of 'dress' is to be pushed into territory so new and exciting as to stretch the parameters of that word to their limits, where 'dress' dissolves into something else and offers the viewer a farther vista, a new Universe forever changed. For it is not just a dress, it is a moment, a gift, an offering to my sweet Xavier of all that he is and is to me...”
Well, the farther vista, the vast Universe, the archetypal statement are our themes and Ariadne is our canvas. Norma Jean and I have been spending some time together armed with pin cushions and sturdy sewing scissors, pattern making paper and colour charts. We find ourselves wondering whether papier mache can be fashioned finely enough? Do we need an expert on beading? What are the mathematical equations that govern the flow of waterfalls? Where can one find inexpensive aquamarine sequins? How to transpose the exact dimensions of Philip Astley's famous Circus, whether the original 62 foot or the later 42 foot?
Through it all Hieronymous is our faithful watch Axolotyl. He seems preternaturally engaged in the whole procedure, watching us from his tank as we work at Norma Jean's friendly kitchen table. When I remarked as much Norma Jean replied,
“Oh yes, Hieronymous reincarnated from the 18th Century and was in fact a milliner, so he takes quite an interest in my sewing” whereupon I replied that he was rather fortunate to be living with a person whose interests so mirrored his own.
“Indeed” said Norma Jean “although you know these things are rarely accidental”
Later as I prepared myself for sleep in my rooms, I found myself pondering whether life as an Axolotyl in Norma Jean's kitchen represented a karmic back or forward step and decided she is such a dear woman it could only be the latter.