Waste and Woolies

Dear Ms N. Imure,

As you might very well be aware I am the most assiduous of advisors and acutely occupied in social circles of all the right hobnobbing and mingling fraternizers. Why there’s rarely a Saturday night where I’m not catching up with the Targaryen’s for tea or Tim Wonnacott for a hunt round the town….very busy, very busy my dear. It’s not often then that I should come by even a moments breath to pen a second reply to any of my adoring epistorlarians. In your case I should think an exception might definitely become the new rule. How was it that you got on with Mr Merlin then? Please write me, wherever you are oh lovely excursionist of time.

Yours Truly,

Nixie.

Dear Ms Nixie,

It is most definitely serendipity that you should write this here wayfarer and former (unofficial) advisor to the great Merlin. You see I happened to be walking across a beautiful Welsh field, lush and lavishly covered in the spoils of spring and all of it asking questions of the Wye Valley . Busy I was too , much like yourself talking with Ms Lamb and her kin when a wild storm took hold and fortunately the shelter of a nearby cave beckoned. It so happened a worm hole must have been activated (as they so easily will be by time tourists such as us) and I slipped on forwards to the year 1,000 AD. The long and short of it is that I became attached for a time to a grand ruler and his partner. Alas, it seems his lordship and lady threw me to the curb before long in favour of a Ms. D. E.M.Ure, part time Chamber Pot Maid, part time Artisian. Why you could put the girl, demure and meek, in a set of stocks and she’d still sing his praises, whistle a happy tune and wear a red rose for his most wretched regalement. Not I. Not ever. Oh I stayed a long while under great duress and with the fullest of loyalty on my side until I could not stand a minutes more of such revolting carry on. In the middle of such times and a Peasant I was forced to take a position in the woollen trade after a request above my station for his golden heart and truth and time and fairs fair, all turned rather pear shaped. It’s not a position most of this time or any time might favour, however someone has to take the piss (literally) and face the world head on. I’m a fuller my Nixie.
Chain-wear undergarments are of grave importance round here and so too are vests. He’s a vest wearer of course. Why all of the kings and the knights wear woollen vests under their chains but you see they did become rather itchy, the vests that is. That’s where my love of science came in and I realized a wee bit of “wee” might drown out the lanoline from the wool. Oh I have to dance up to my knees in everyone else’s waste but the ammonia closes the fibres of the wool and locks them together. The cloth is then as snug as a bug in a rug. I have to regularly fight the urge to throw up in my own mouth but oh heck, someone has to do their part along with the weavers and dyers and merchants to make a world beating export. And just as well as he’s comfy right and flouncing around in sumptuous clothes while entertaining at court and tournament?
Ah, the trouble is Miss, his lordship still insists on calling by my hut for further council. Can you believe it? Well most recently I suggested they stop fighting the French and come home to help defend against the Vikings whose boats have been sighted more regularly. It seemed he hadn’t noticed.

Oh Nixie, whatever shall I do. I don’t know how long I shall be stuck here and they never seem to understand anything I say.

Yours Truly,

Ms N. Imure

Dear Ms Imure,

You’re in luck. I found a brief window in which to reply. It so happens I was just in time travel touch with Mr H. Arthur (a great writer) and he was feeling a little down and out himself. I should like to pass on the same advice as I did from him to you. There’s not a lot to say however except urine trouble with the troubled and the trouble with life is that some people might never change at all.
People… “are made to be loved not understood… Who being loved is poor?..”.. and If they didn’t love you enough “in your soul there are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.”

Never give up. Always here for you. Stay in touch.

Yours Truly.


Ms Nixie Nicla xx.

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