Friday, October the 29th, 2004

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The Field of the Cloth of Gold

Yes, that's what I said, the field of the cloth of gold. That is where I have just been, and it is where I want you to go. So up you get from your bed of straw, pin those crutches under your armpits, and get cracking. I have made you a packed lunch of beetroot pie, potato thirds and juice squeezed from nettles, so you will not go hungry on your journey. Wait. I want you to take this owl with you. There are far too many fieldmice scurrying around in the field of the cloth of gold, and the owl will tear them to shreds with its lacerating beak. The lucky ones will escape by running off to the adjoining field, if luck is something one can ascribe to mice. What do you think? Does Dame Fortune shine her bright lantern on such tiny beasts, or is she only concerned with that which is human? Speaking of which, you had better have a wash and spruce yourself up before you go. You look as if you haven't been out of that bed of straw for months. Just because all the bones in both your legs are fractured beyond repair is no excuse. Why do you think I shelled out ten fat coins to buy you the crutches? Why do you think I got Old Hengist to varnish them so splendidly? Take the owl to the field of the cloth of gold and come straight back. I have another job for you. The spigot is jammed, and not for nothing are you known as The Man Who Can Unjam Spigots With His Eyes Shut. Get thee hence!