Wednesday 7 October 2009

ANY REQUESTS?

Mes tres chers amis de mon coeur, or words to that effect. Have you missed me? Silly question; of course you have! Every last one of you, even Inky, that sumptuous old scapegrace. And you ache to know where I've been. Well, let me just say this: sophisticated, soignee, sumptuously attired; rigorously cosmopolitan, regularly un peu distrait, relentlessly loaded, I am above all things a mother, and when a child calls for my ministrations I rush to its side, regardless of the cause. A broken heart, a bouncing cheque or a bellyful of Butyrophenone can all be eased by a mother's warm embrace and a working knowledge of oral antipsychotics. I know all parents will smile with wry recognition at these words, as they recall the finer points of The Misuse of Drugs (Notification of Addicts) Act 1973, a text more well-thumbed than anything by Dr Miriam Stoppard in this house. In short, I had an indisposed child in a foreign country, and I rushed to her side. Which mother wouldn't? Kind friends will be heartened to hear that I found the time to stop off in Singapore for some shopping and I arrived home in a silk Roksanda Ilincic and a pair of Pedro Garcia ankle boots. The words "Portsmouth on paynight" trembled on the lips of a baggage-handler, but someone has to rock the raddled old tart look, and it may as well be me.

Anyhoo, as a result, I am half-maddened with fatigue, and cannot find an original thought to call my own, so I have decided to re-visit some of my finer pieces. For many months, my inbox has been becrammed with requests, and so I will start by gratifying the whim of Mr Claud Thirst of Cookham Dean who writes: "What price the jolly old season of mists, eh, Mrs Pouncer? My wife, Muriel, and I would oft-times settle down with a steaming pot of Darjeeling and 120 Milibands of Pyridostigmine Bromide, the better to enjoy the reports of your rural rambles. Any chance of re-running your greatest work "Still Autumn", with a dedication to our dear friends Lillian and Gillian Raine? It will remind us of happier times, before Mrs Ulrika Jonson moved in and bang went the neighbourhood".

Mr Thirst, I am happy to oblige.

STILL AUTUMN by Mrs Clarissa Pouncer First published 23 September 2008

An old faker, whose name happily escapes me, once said it was important to "breathe native air", and I must say I agree. I return ever and anon to the dewy pastures along the A4 where my very character was built, and my very soul delights. I know how important it is to those of you who live in the squalor of our cities to share this with me.

I crossed over the county boundary past Maidenhead, past Cookham and into Buckinghamshire. Almost immediately, the beech takes over, and I can only hope that my humble pen can capture the true majesty of the trees in their splendour. These woods are regarded as the best of the ancient British woodlands, and some of the pollarded trees are over 500 years old. I can't tell you about magnificent Autumn colours, because beech trees are the last to turn, sometimes hanging on until late November, but the beechnuts were thick on the ground. Beech nuts were once known as "buck" which is how the county got its name, although the proper term is "beech masts". Needless to say, the whole place was aswarm with greedy squirrels, and almost as many mycologists peering at the fungi, and taking scrapings, which is technically illegal. I didn't say anything; I've benefited from enough mycology in the past, God knows.

I was surprised to see so much elder around the edges of the wood. Elders stink, quite literally; a strong antiseptic smell, which flies and other pests hate. A piece of split elder makes an extremely effective fly-whisk and cases of elder used to be shipped out to the colonies in the glorious old days. When I was a child, it wasn't unusual to see horses with elder leaves on their browbands to keep the horseflies off.

I became quite overwhelmed with nostalgia as I came back through Bourne End, hard by Hedsor, and saw the dear old river ahead. As a girl, and well into my twenties, I would swim off the gentle bank, losing myself in the gritty water, with my feet sometimes hopelessly entangled in the waving weeds. I once swam with a boy I loved all the way to the backwater at Bray, but noone shouted Health and Safety. We could all swim like mermaids, and those weaker ones could at least scream for rescue. These days everything is verboten, and I blame the lawyers. They have advised the agencies that permanent lifeguards are required to avoid litigation, and as a result river swimming is dying.

Immersion soothes muscles, relieves depressions and releases a natural endorphin high that elates the senses and creates an addictive urge. There is absolutely nothing to be lost by taking the plunge.



22 comments:

  1. Ha! I'm first - in spite of a locked comment box. Swimming in any river let alone with waving weeds takes courage. Paddling in the Camargue always made me twitchy.
    Cookham conjures up a picture of Stanley Spencer in his nothings.
    And did you know they are presently burning Ginko trees in the States because of their awfully smelly droppings?

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  2. Hmmmmm?
    Good to have you back!
    Sx

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  3. ...someone has to rock the raddled old tart look, and it may as well be me.

    i am so glad i'm not the only one, sugar! welcome home! xoxo

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  4. Phone Sex and A Young Turk.
    Sx
    [These are my requests,btw]

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  5. Welcome Back.Autumn Seems Slightly Safer Now........

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  6. Ginger Rogers and a jar of Marmite

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  7. Welcome back Mrs P: you've been sorely missed

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  8. Glad to have you back on the pages of blog land. Once you have regained your composure and dress sense. Could you let us know where the fuck you have been. Singapore, no one just goes to Singapore, except maybe the odd expat on the way to jail. Pray tell us all.
    Woof x

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  9. I hear women of your social standing and bank balance enjoy a lift, tuck and polish, but I suspect you've been on one of those 'Sandals' holidays where certain activities are commonplace.

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  10. Welcome back. The offer I made to you in person still stands (nudge nudge).

    Singapore - Switzerland in a sauna. I trust you limited your stay to under 72 hours. A day or two in the Lion City is marvellous; having to stay a week makes you want to blow the place up.

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  11. Baggage-handler... a lesser woman would have made that into a double-entendre. V.g. Mrs P, 9/10.

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  12. My apologies for my earlier comment put it down to the evils of daytime drinking. Welcome back. Burp.X

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  13. Many thanks to all my friends and admirers who have rushed back to my side. I have taken careful note of those who - it would appear - can't be arsed. Disappointing. Very.

    Pat, Mr Spencer was known to me. When I was one-week old, he peered into my pram and said "What a lovely little fellow!" Of course, he was extremely shortsighted, and had a pram of his own.

    Scarlet, yes isn't it? I shall waste no time in bringing a certain joie de vivre to your humdrum life, as per.

    Of course you're not the only one, Sav! It is all the rage in the glorious Thames Valley (home to Ulrika Jonnson, Kate O'Mara and Princess Michael of Kent).

    Scarlet, again. Phone Sex and a Young Turk are two of my favourite things as well. I will upload them quicksticks.

    Tony, merci bien. And can I say how much I love initial capitals? I started it, of course.

    Kev, Kev, Kev. Of course, and who wouldn't? (I am writing to you under separate cover later on btw). Cx

    Dear DT, "sorely" being the operative word in your case, I imagine. Have you tried an application of modified maize starch in paste form? It is the only thing for chafing.

    Grump, you are garrulous and I suspect strong drink has been taken. Thank goodness someone knows how to start the day.

    Emerson, you flatter me. But no; once is enough as far as Sandals is concerned. Surely you recall my report of the inadequate catering and poor tailoring on show? Wake up.

    Gyppo, your offer was - is - irresistible; but where shall we find the required equipment? I have trawled the internet in vain. It seems we share a niche interest.

    Inky, dear, you know how I abhor entendres both single and double. I am made of nobler stuff, as you shall see.

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  14. It's not that I can't be arsed, you can't take three weeks off and expect me to be sat there on your doorstep waiting when you return at 3 in the morning. I was starting to worry though, especially with the demise of Petite Anglaise and Jimmy B. We can't afford to lose any more.

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  15. Oh, good heavens, Daphers, as if I'd disappear without so much as a by-your-leave. No, I was called to the aid of a distressed daughter, and then I found myself with bigger fish to fry: an enormous flounder to be exact. But then, in the way of fish, it lost its savour and started to stink, so I am back. Cod's off.

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  16. Mrs P - I was thinking of the one involving lunch with a person of mutual interest. But I seem to have scared you off, so no worries...

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  17. Chag sameach, segulah shel Emek ha-Temsah! And welcome home.

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  18. Oh, yes, Gyppo, I hadn't forgotten. I will write under separate cover *furious nudgings, winkings, forelock pullings*

    Boyo, you are out of the loop. So far out it may not be easy to pull you back in. All the best people have decamped to Facebook, where we lead blameless lives playing Scrabble, taking quizzes and poking each other. It is great fun. You should join, too. Today, Gadjo and I went head-to-head in the quiz Put The Nolan Sisters In Order of Intelligence. I won on aggregate. Then I played Which Dental Implant Do You Need? with Daphne and she beat me with a veneered incisor.

    La Problema! Here, too! And for Boyo's inf., she is also on FB and friended me in a trice. See, Boyo, all the best people.

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  19. I'll put my best man on the job, Clarissa.

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  20. How about one verse and chorous of 'The Lame Cuckoo'?

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  21. I went swimming naked in the sea not far from Hastings only a few weeks ago, I agree that it is a great fillip for the body and mind, though I my case, I may just be a pervert.

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