Some Bridges and a Rose at the Round Table
Dear Ms. Maid. E. N. Marion,
I believe you are a time traveller filling in for the honourable columnist Ms.Nixie who is presently on hiatus, possibly seen in close proximity to the Duke of Melbourne and most probably ready to rumble (with the John Pertwee Appreciation Society). I too am a time tourist my dear lady. And on the subject of who and the time space continuum, I seem to have wormholed my way from the woods right back to the year C496 (with a wee little help from a rose and a bridge and an Einstein aka Einstein Rose Bridge.) I'm here to tell you, indeed I doth survived reasonably unscathed but for the odd sudden collapse, radiation burn and liaison with some rather exotic matter (although twas indeed the exotic matter that acted as a stabilising device). Suffice to say we did stabilise the porthole and it is bequested upon me the honour of imparting the truth now on the subject of this. Bridges are indeed essential, as alerted by yours truly my dear, and though those with poppy cock hearts and cocky pop sockies, whose pyromaniac hearts brought torches and half way there prayers, did scoff, it seems that, behold, a wild burning of bridges could be quite the bit catastrophic. I hope you might pass this on to Ms Nixie so that she could warn the people of 2016. Time travel does indeedeth dependeth oneth the bridge. Is the bridge, pray tell, the shortcut that would reduce time travel and distance? Ahhh, yes my Marian, yes tis true.
If it would not be too forward of me Marion, might I suggest that in the words of Mr Isaac Newton, who I popped in on for a tasty morsel of apple pie in the year 1673, that while those bequeathing you a walled jail of silence that;
"We build too many walls and not enough bridges..." so may you break each wall apart to centre on your heart for I have of course known you before and let us just say my brand of tights has room for leeway. But to the next conundrum, prithee might you offer some advice to the pitchketttled clan of knights I have stumbled upon in C496. They are all in a tither over tables and rows and whereabouts. They gather to plan and plot and wonder and fight. I know you as a peaceful soul Marion, and that you are, but I suggested you may offer some advice all the same, albeit from a distance of say about 1,520 years or so. It's the issue of their meetings, the gatherings. How to sit? How to be? How to debate without looking at the back of ones head in a row, how to deal with the lazy sod procrastinating with a stone tablet at the back of the room. They tried the rows. They even tried a horseshoe, squares and triangles. Still it's fraught with people disagreeable and less than united. What might be the answer my darling sheperdess?
Yours Truly,
Robin. C. Hood
Dear Mr Hood,
On the subject of hoods, I was, just as it happens in touch with a well known leggy lady sporting her hood game, singing up a storm, dancing like a goddess and enjoying a spot of fancy dress in the style of a cute little puppy. It was via this strange letter wall known as the internet and it seems you can post comments if you wish as though you know her close up even. But anyway that's another strange and interesting story altogether. I shall tell you about it Mr Hood when our time one day overlaps again and finally matches up completely but alas until then yes, we must write, darling. The tables? Hmmm, I've been thinking? Might the knights consider a round table Coco? Can I call you that still? Do you remember how I used to call you that. Oh it seemed like hundreds of years ago, well, of course it was too. Oh so handsome in your Lincoln green and lush cocoa locks. Yes, I should think a round table would be conducive for the knights to sit in a pod together and all be heard without as much cause for obstructions.
And another thing, i was wondering lately am I crazy to believe in ideals? I don't think so. Just in case you manage to get back to the Merry Men, I know that even though the taxation regime of the Normans seems unfair, there's a part of me that knows the hospitals need more leeches, that the schools need quills and that roads need to be re-cobbled as the 11th century was a very wet time and wear and tear was of course inevitable. In other words don't rob the tax man in the woods. Might be wise to go straight to the Sherif of Nottingham. Perhaps turn his pockets inside out, peacefully of course.
Anyway I should tootle off. I've to practice my Irish whistle. But you live in my heart forever Coco. oh how I've missed you. Oh I meant to ask? Are the dealing with the topic of dragon extinction yet? Are they on the endangered list yet? Oh I wonder if you might not change time? Could it be dangerous? There's an egg you see. Find the egg that hatches into a darling chicken under the round table. But it isn't an ordinary chicken for it lives with the dragon heart and magic will come back to earth on that day. If you find me in this time I will know you have the dragon chick. There is one but person who can hold this chicken and rebirth the wild but peaceful dragons, of order and crystal strength. It is you Coco. It was told to me over a cup of tea and toast thousands of years before our time. To infinity and beyond....
Until me meet again,
Yours
Miss Marion.
I believe you are a time traveller filling in for the honourable columnist Ms.Nixie who is presently on hiatus, possibly seen in close proximity to the Duke of Melbourne and most probably ready to rumble (with the John Pertwee Appreciation Society). I too am a time tourist my dear lady. And on the subject of who and the time space continuum, I seem to have wormholed my way from the woods right back to the year C496 (with a wee little help from a rose and a bridge and an Einstein aka Einstein Rose Bridge.) I'm here to tell you, indeed I doth survived reasonably unscathed but for the odd sudden collapse, radiation burn and liaison with some rather exotic matter (although twas indeed the exotic matter that acted as a stabilising device). Suffice to say we did stabilise the porthole and it is bequested upon me the honour of imparting the truth now on the subject of this. Bridges are indeed essential, as alerted by yours truly my dear, and though those with poppy cock hearts and cocky pop sockies, whose pyromaniac hearts brought torches and half way there prayers, did scoff, it seems that, behold, a wild burning of bridges could be quite the bit catastrophic. I hope you might pass this on to Ms Nixie so that she could warn the people of 2016. Time travel does indeedeth dependeth oneth the bridge. Is the bridge, pray tell, the shortcut that would reduce time travel and distance? Ahhh, yes my Marian, yes tis true.
If it would not be too forward of me Marion, might I suggest that in the words of Mr Isaac Newton, who I popped in on for a tasty morsel of apple pie in the year 1673, that while those bequeathing you a walled jail of silence that;
"We build too many walls and not enough bridges..." so may you break each wall apart to centre on your heart for I have of course known you before and let us just say my brand of tights has room for leeway. But to the next conundrum, prithee might you offer some advice to the pitchketttled clan of knights I have stumbled upon in C496. They are all in a tither over tables and rows and whereabouts. They gather to plan and plot and wonder and fight. I know you as a peaceful soul Marion, and that you are, but I suggested you may offer some advice all the same, albeit from a distance of say about 1,520 years or so. It's the issue of their meetings, the gatherings. How to sit? How to be? How to debate without looking at the back of ones head in a row, how to deal with the lazy sod procrastinating with a stone tablet at the back of the room. They tried the rows. They even tried a horseshoe, squares and triangles. Still it's fraught with people disagreeable and less than united. What might be the answer my darling sheperdess?
Yours Truly,
Robin. C. Hood
Dear Mr Hood,
On the subject of hoods, I was, just as it happens in touch with a well known leggy lady sporting her hood game, singing up a storm, dancing like a goddess and enjoying a spot of fancy dress in the style of a cute little puppy. It was via this strange letter wall known as the internet and it seems you can post comments if you wish as though you know her close up even. But anyway that's another strange and interesting story altogether. I shall tell you about it Mr Hood when our time one day overlaps again and finally matches up completely but alas until then yes, we must write, darling. The tables? Hmmm, I've been thinking? Might the knights consider a round table Coco? Can I call you that still? Do you remember how I used to call you that. Oh it seemed like hundreds of years ago, well, of course it was too. Oh so handsome in your Lincoln green and lush cocoa locks. Yes, I should think a round table would be conducive for the knights to sit in a pod together and all be heard without as much cause for obstructions.
And another thing, i was wondering lately am I crazy to believe in ideals? I don't think so. Just in case you manage to get back to the Merry Men, I know that even though the taxation regime of the Normans seems unfair, there's a part of me that knows the hospitals need more leeches, that the schools need quills and that roads need to be re-cobbled as the 11th century was a very wet time and wear and tear was of course inevitable. In other words don't rob the tax man in the woods. Might be wise to go straight to the Sherif of Nottingham. Perhaps turn his pockets inside out, peacefully of course.
Anyway I should tootle off. I've to practice my Irish whistle. But you live in my heart forever Coco. oh how I've missed you. Oh I meant to ask? Are the dealing with the topic of dragon extinction yet? Are they on the endangered list yet? Oh I wonder if you might not change time? Could it be dangerous? There's an egg you see. Find the egg that hatches into a darling chicken under the round table. But it isn't an ordinary chicken for it lives with the dragon heart and magic will come back to earth on that day. If you find me in this time I will know you have the dragon chick. There is one but person who can hold this chicken and rebirth the wild but peaceful dragons, of order and crystal strength. It is you Coco. It was told to me over a cup of tea and toast thousands of years before our time. To infinity and beyond....
Until me meet again,Yours
Miss Marion.
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