Author: Tom

That’s better. I’m back in my woollies again now.

I used to spend every winter tucked up in a snug cupboard, safe from all danger and viruses.

Very peaceful. Very dark.

It was warm in there. I’m not used to the cold.

But I have so many responsibilities at the moment that I can’t go in the cupboard yet.

I have to find out where my friends Ruffy and Points are being held.

We don’t even know if they’ve been unglued from their paving stone.

My plan is to telephone every prison in the country until I find the right one.

I don’t like making telephone calls.

You never know whether the person at the other end is busy, or asleep, or just not feeling like talking.

But Prison Officers shouldn’t be napping on duty. And if their job is to answer the telephone, they’ll be used to being disturbed.

Anyway, this is an emergency.

I’ve been polite to the Police Officers, and the Prison Officers, and they’ve just laughed at me.

So this time the gloves are off.

Oh dear. Oh dear. I need to sit down.

I was so rude. How did I know how to be so rude?

But it did seem to work.

Also I said that I was calling from Scotland Yard. That was completely untrue.

I don’t feel very well. I think I need a little rest before I call the next prison.

Slow breathing. In, two three four. Out, two three four five. In, two three four. Out, two three four five.

Oh, who’s that on the phone?

Poor things. I expect they are.

Wandsworth Prison is next.

Before I’m rude to the Prison Officer there, I’ll put out a peanut for the birds.

It’s very very cold.

I wonder if that hedgehog has been eaten up yet.

I was sore and achy after my bicycle accident.

I thought a hot bath would be soothing.

It was, but I’d forgotten about the major drawback of washing.

Some younger furry people can dry off quickly, but my sort of furriness stays wet for a very long time.

The warmth and comfort of the bath soon wore off.

I was chilled to the marrow, and I felt worse than before. But one should wash now and then, I suppose.

I had to dry off in the airing cupboard.

Cupboards are good places for thinking.

Few distractions, and in the case of an airing cupboard, useful white noise.

It’s exciting that the Stork has promised to take me to see Um and the Baby.

I wonder where they are? I wonder whether either of them has started to speak English yet? I wonder if the Baby still likes tying people up with string?

It will be good see that little hooligan again.

Of course I’m worrying about my other absent friends as well.

We must find out where Ruffy and Points are.

It’s ages since they were arrested on their Climate Protest, and we don’t know which prison they’re being held in.

Once they’re found, we have to get them out. Whether by legal means or illegal I really don’t know.

I don’t think I’ve ever knowingly broken the law before. Unless you count that time in Oswestry.

I have an idea for finding out which prison they’re in, but it will involve saying things over the telephone that aren’t true.

I don’t like that, and I’m not very good at it.

But failing to help my friends would be even worse than saying an untruth. So as soon as I’m warm and dry I’ll face that task.

Snuggling up in a cosy airing cupboard after getting cold and wet made me think of people less fortunate than myself, such as my friend Kimbleton Tardigrade.

They’ve gone on an expedition (at my request) to hunt for Walrus and Bruno.

Walrus and Bruno set off to the seaside in the middle of The Third Lockdown, which really wasn’t sensible.

I hope they’re having fun, even if it was an irresponsible idea.

Whether the Prime Minister is right to let everyone mingle recklessly is another matter, but at least Walrus and Bruno aren’t breaking the law now.

It wouldn’t do for all of us to end up in prison.

I don’t know what Kimbleton’s plan was for finding them.

I’ve heard nothing from him, not so much as a postcard, so I haven’t known what to think.

Then Jenny discovered that we could follow their progress on Facebook.

Apparently Kimbleton is swimming all round the coast, looking out for likely seaside resorts, since the Seaside Experience was what Walrus was after.

I know that tardigrades are infinitely durable, but swimming from beach to beach, with no access to an airing cupboard, I’m afraid poor Kimbleton will be even colder and wetter than me.

Brrrr. I’m still quite cold myself.

To be honest, I don’t believe the airing cupboard is really very warm at all. I blame all that insulation.

I’ll get out the nice scawl that my kind cousin Peter sent me.

And I’d better put on some warm winter woollies before I start on my difficult telephone calls.

I’ve been hoping that the Stork would tell me some news of Um and the Baby.

They lived here with me for a while after I happened upon Um on a beach last year.

I didn’t find out till later that she had a baby in her pocket.

Then the Stork took them off somewhere.

I decided to invite him down for another cup of tea.

I hoped that this time the conversation might get round to where Um and the Baby are now, and what they’re up to.

I made a batch of shortbread, partly for the Stork, and partly to take to my friends Ruffy and Points, who are in prison at the moment.

I arranged some on a plate.

When I came back from putting the kettle on, I found the Stork had already eaten the shortbread.

He’d flown back up to his hook without waiting for any tea.

But he has left a message for me. I wonder if it’s telling me what I want to know.

He doesn’t speak English, but luckily he’s good with a pencil.

It doesn’t say where they are, but yes, that’s definitely Um and the Baby looking cheerful in a little house.

That’s very good news.

And I see he’s drawn himself, taking someone to visit them. I think it must be me, because of the triangle.

That looks like a plan, or a promise.

How exciting. I’ve never flown before.

I expect the Baby has grown up a lot since I saw it last. It may not remember who I am.

I’m glad I made plenty of shortbread. I can take some with me when we go.

I’ve been waiting under the Stork’s hook to see if we were going to set off straight away, but he hasn’t come down again, so I’m just going to get on with life, and see what he decides.

Lopsy and Jenny and I met up on Zoom.

We missed Points.

We had a bit of a chat before we got down to the serious business.

Oh dear. I don’t like it when my friends fall out.

I think it’s sounding rather good.

Of course we need Points and her ocarina for the full effect. It’s always useful to have a tune.

I wonder what Prison Officers like best? We need to think of something better to bribe them with.

If Ruffy and Points have really been moved to Dartmoor, that will be too far for me to walk.

I’m avoiding buses for now, because I’ve seen that people aren’t always wearing their masks on public transport.

I know the Prime Minister says that mask-wearing is a matter of personal choice, but a vulnerable person like me doesn’t have much choice.

There’s always Hitch-hiking. But I don’t want to annoy people by holding a sign saying “Masked drivers only, please”.

I’d better get my bicycle out again. I’ve been neglecting it.

Once I’d recovered from last year’s great bicycling expedition, I took a long break from riding.

After that, I felt nervous about getting back on the bicycle. But really, what’s the worst that can happen?

I believe even worse things happen at sea.

I think I’ll go home and have a soothing bath. I can’t remember when I last had a bath.

Bunce and Snowy have been growing loofahs.

They’ve sent me a slice, so I can give myself a good scrub.

Lopsy recommends putting some essential oils in the water, but I’m not sure about that.

Aah. This is extremely nice.

My dear friend Lopsy telephoned.

I suppose I don’t have to believe the answer.

You may remember that the Stork took Um and the Baby away, I think to find someone who could help them with their asylum application, and to access all the things they need in this new alien country.

Oh, how wonderful if the Stork is back. I’ve been waiting and waiting for news of Um and the Baby.

Yes, there he is, up on his hook.

No no, I mustn’t just ask after Um and the Baby. He’ll think I’m not pleased to see him himself.

It is very nice to see him again. I’ll make him a cup of tea.

I’m afraid he’s been home some time, and I just haven’t noticed. The cuckoos tried to tell me, but I didn’t understand.

I hope I haven’t hurt his feelings.

Though now I come to think of it, it gave him a chance to quarantine, after getting back from his foreign travel.

I’d better telephone Lopsy with the good news.

I suppose half of me doesn’t want to ask.

As long as I don’t know anything definite, I can keep on hoping.

I can imagine the Stork saying “Their immigration papers are all sorted now, and I’ll be bringing them back here next week, to live with you happily ever after”.

I know it’s not very likely. And they’re probably much better off where they are.

I expect the Stork has found them a council flat on a nice estate with a good nursery and community centre.

Or a special mother-and-child hostel with enriched education facilities for the Baby, and plenty of other young mothers for Um to socialise with. And an interpreter.

Which of course would be very good indeed.

But memories of the Baby keep coming back. I remember how it would tear things up and throw them all over me.

The little scallywag. I do miss it.

I believe the cuckoos have something they want to tell me.

When I climbed up to speak to them, they kept pointing their beaks upwards.

I looked all round the ceiling, but I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual cobwebs.

I’ll keep an eye on things up there.

I must remember to keep on trying to talk to the cuckoos, in case they have anything else to tell me.

I took a parcel of Rebellion biscuits round to little Strawberry.

I’ve visited her once before, early this summer. We had a cup of apple-blossom tea in her garden.

This time she invited me into her house. Very cosy.

She urged me to take off my mask.

I’ve hardly been indoors anywhere, so I don’t know what’s normal when socialising.

Strawberry’s house is not well ventilated. It hardly has any windows, and they don’t look as though they would open.

Since I was the person coming into Strawberry’s home, possibly bringing alien infections with me, should I keep my mask on?

But could that seem rude? Perhaps suggesting that she wasn’t being sufficiently careful?

This is when I need Ruffy’s advice. He’s always read the latest research and statistics, and knows what should be done in any situation.

But with him and Points locked up in prison, I’ll have to make my own decisions.

The Government isn’t giving advice either. It just says that I should use my judgement. That’s not very helpful at all.

If Strawberry’s undecided about wearing a mask, I don’t want to influence her in the wrong direction.

We old bears should set a good example to the youngsters.

But I don’t like to think that she may think that I think that she’s likely to infect me.

On the other hand, if I take my mask off, it may seem that I’m not concerned for her well-being.

Or that I’m not really worried about my own vulnerability. Which I am.

Since I am worried, I should probably keep my mask on.

But then I don’t want to offend Strawberry.

I shouldn’t have come inside at all. There was no need. We could have chatted on the doorstep.

I’d better leave.

I haven’t given Strawberry the biscuits, in case she felt obliged to share them with me.

I’ve left the package by her sofa. I hope she finds it.

I was relieved to be back outside in the fresh air.

Next I took some biscuits round to my friend Ellie.

This time I didn’t make the mistake of accepting her invitation to come inside.

Ellie told me where to find a good patch of brambles. I was feeling energetic, and quite hungry, so I set off straight away.

It’s a long time since I’ve been blackberrying.

I discovered that over-seventy-fives are also unreliable at berry discrimination, but please don’t tell Ellie.

It was obvious that the green berries weren’t ripe. I know that lots of fruit start off green, and then turn red. Plums, cherries, apples…

So I picked rather too many red blackberries before I began to think about their name.

I realised that there’s a reason why they’re known as black berries.

Luckily I then came on a different bush which brought it all back. The blacker ones tasted very good indeed.

It was a prickly job.

The brambles themselves, of course, have sharp thorns which I didn’t quite manage to avoid.

And I thought I’d also been attacked, perhaps in a friendly way, by a gang of very small hedgehogs.

I expect it was because I’d been thinking a lot about my friend Points, who happens to be a hedgehog.

But these prickly creatures ignored my requests for them to move.

I soon realised that they were quite inanimate.

Instead of prickles, they had little claws, and when I pulled them off they took tufts of my fur with them.

I don’t think any hedgehog would have behaved like that.

Now I’ve got a lot of blackberries.

Tomorrow I’ll make a blackberry and apple pie, or possibly a crumble, to take to Points and Ruffy in prison.

No, that’s not a good idea.

The Prison Officers would suspect that I was smuggling a file or a cosh into the prison, hidden under the pastry.

I suppose blackberry wine wouldn’t be allowed either.

Perhaps bramble jelly, in a plastic container. I see that glass wouldn’t be welcome. (I’m afraid I’m starting to think like a Prison Officer.)

Blackberry buns or muffins could surely only be used as the friendliest sort of weapon.

I’ll see if I can find a recipe.

My friends Ruffy and Points were arrested on a demonstration.

They’d glued themselves to the pavement, in protest against investment in fossil fuels.

The police took them away still stuck to the paving stone.

I’m worried that they may be anxious and hungry, so I packed up some biscuits and took them down to the Police Station.

There were several Police Officers at the front desk.

At first they pretended not to notice me, although I’d seen them looking at me, and laughing to each other.

It can be hard for a small furry person, trying to engage with the world of Law and Order.

I felt proud of knowing his height. It had been discussed when he was borrowing some clothes from my sister Jenny.

Oh dear oh dear.

I think the officer was teasing me by asking all those questions, and then talking about puddings.

I hope I haven’t let out things that Ruffy and Points would prefer to have kept to themselves.

I’m sure these are perfectly nice Police Officers.

The problem is that they’re used to thinking of furry people as less than human.

Of course it’s all right to laugh at a Thing. They didn’t realise that I am not a Thing.

I was nearly crying.

But as I was leaving, the Officer must have taken pity on me.

I hurried out after the other Officer and saw her get into a police van.

I ran and jumped on to the van’s back bumper. There wasn’t much to cling on to.

Luckily I did some hitch-hiking in my younger days, so I know the trick of staying on a bumper.

You have to relax, lean into the van, and go with the bumps.

It started to rain, which made everything rather slippery. I nearly fell off several times.

At last we came through some very secure gates, and the van stopped.

I noted that the gap under the gates was big enough to allow me back out once I’d accomplished my mission.

Now my task was to discover where Ruffy and Points were being held.

I realised I’d been acting rather impulsively.

I didn’t know how I was going to find them, or what I should do when I did find them.

I’ve never been to a prison before. This is quite a large one.

After my experience at the Police Station, I felt cautious about taking the official route.

Instead I wandered round, peering in through several of the windows.

It’s nice that the prison has a Games Room. Ruffy and Points can enjoy playing ping-pong or Ludo with the other prisoners.

Or perhaps not ping-pong if they’re still attached to the paving stone.

But I didn’t seem to be able to find the right window.

I couldn’t see anyone inside who might tell me where Points and Ruffy were.

Eventually I plucked up courage to knock on one of the doors.

I braced myself for another difficult conversation.

But the door was opened so quickly that I was taken by surprise, and couldn’t say anything at all.

I put down my parcel of biscuits and ran.

I hope the Prison Officers read the label on the parcel and will give it to Ruffy and Points.

After that, I made my way home.

It was a long walk.

I had intended to take some of the biscuits round to little Strawberry.

She’s always very helpful, and generous with the vegetables that she grows in her garden.

But after I got home from the prison I didn’t have the energy for any more outings.

I did notice that the cuckoos were rather excited.

I couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell me.

Perhaps it’s time for them to set off on their annual journey to warmer climes.

In May they sing all day, in June they change their tune, in July away they fly, and it’s already September.

After a nap I’ll climb up and see if communication is easier at closer quarters.

No good worrying about it now. I can’t keep my eyes open.

I must admit I felt relieved when Kimbleton left.

All the time they were staying with me, I felt obliged to be thinking of amusements for them.

It was very tiring.

But now that they’ve set out on a major expedition, I’m worrying, because I know they aren’t careful on roads.

When I told them that I always look right, look left, look right again, and then if all’s clear, quick march straight across, they laughed at me, and darted straight out into the traffic.

I didn’t dare mention road safety again, for fear of setting off even more dangerous behaviour.

But Ruffy reminded me that in many places there are now dedicated tardigrade lanes.

I’m hoping that Kimbleton will keep to those.

I wonder whether Kimbleton has made any progress in finding Walrus and Bruno.

All these months that they’ve been away, I’m ashamed to say that I’ve hardly given them a thought.

I was a bit cross with them for breaking the Covid Rules, and setting off during Lockdown.

But now I’m worried. Supposing they did actually catch the Virus?

Perhaps they’re ill somewhere, with no one knowing who they are or where they come from?

They may even be dead.

Perhaps we’ll never know what’s happened to them.

Jenny says it’s not my fault.

Jenny’s my little sister. She’s always been quite strict.

I’d only just put the phone down, when it rang again.

Oh dear. I’d forgotten all about the great Rebellion.

I wonder if I should have been glueing myself to something.

I don’t feel that anyone would notice if I did.

I’ll make some Rebellion biscuits.

I’ll go and push a little packet of them through Ruffy and Points’s cell window.

I don’t suppose you get very nice food in a police cell. If you get any at all.

If I sing Gibbs’s song while I’m rolling out the dough, it will almost count as practising.

“Oh! my Ruffy, my constant Ruffy,
When shall we see our Ruffy again?
Ruffy again, Ruffy again, Ruffy again, Ruffy again…

Oh! my Ruffy, and also Points,
When shall we see them both again?”

Oh dear. I’ve made too many, and they’ve come out far too big.

They won’t be easy to smuggle into anywhere.

We’ve all been worrying about Walrus and Bruno.

They set off rather recklessly back in January, when we were supposed to be Locked Down.

I feel responsible, because I’d come home from my bicycling trip with many stories about my adventures.

Walrus got excited about the roundabout that I’d taken the Baby on.

It was lovely, but not worth risking one’s life for.

(That dear little Baby. I wish it hadn’t gone away.)

Anyway, Walrus said he couldn’t wait to go and see the roundabout.

So he and Bruno rushed off to the seaside, ignoring the risk to themselves and others from the Virus.

Now Kimbleton has set off to try to find them and persuade them to come back.

Of course it’s not against the rules to travel now, but they’ve been away from home a long time.

Lopsy went to visit Max (Walrus and Bruno live at his house), and she says that he’s been crying his eyes out over them.

I cooked Kimbleton a good breakfast to strengthen them for the journey.

And before they went, I showed them the latest Book Club page, since it was them that suggested the topic.

Kimbleton was pleased that Ellie had taken up their idea of discussing books about invertebrates and microanimals.

Then off they went, without any luggage at all. They say they like to travel light.

I wish they’d walk on the pavement. But they don’t seem afraid of getting squashed by a car.

They say that tardigrades can survive heat, cold, drought, flood, radiation… So perhaps they can survive being squashed too.

Several of my friends have been away for little holidays.

Dillion’s been very good about reporting from Wales, so we haven’t had to worry about him.

He’s been playing his harp all over the place.

He telephoned me from a Welsh castle.

Actually it wasn’t Harlech Castle. I believe it was Llandovery.

He played outside a Welsh emporium.

It happened to be the day when the Carmarthenshire Commandos Motorcycle Club were meeting nearby, so there was a lot of traffic noise.

Not a perfect place for harp-playing, but Dillion said that all the bears and rabbits waved to him as they went by, and he sounded pleased.

It wasn’t any better when he telephoned from the bank of a mountain stream, to play for me by a beautiful Welsh waterfall.

The splashing of the water was so loud that I could hardly make out the sound of the harp at all.

But I did hear him playing with a Welsh Male Voice Choir, which was very nice indeed.

Apparently the choir welcomes any gender these days, including a number of castrati.

I don’t think I’m ready for an expedition yet myself.

But maybe I should try to think of a project.

Ellie’s busy with her nursery, and the Book Club.

Bimbo is coordinating the Zoom Ensemble.

(He’s just told me that I must practise playing with Jenny and Gibbs. I hope one of them can think of some suitable music.)

Little Strawberry is working at the Community Garden, Ruffy’s been helping with children’s holiday activities in the park, and Spencer has been volunteering at the vaccination centre.

They’re all doing good things, but I’m feeling tired and lazy.

Perhaps I’ll read a book about a brass instrument. That will combine relaxation with preparation for the next Book Club meeting.

I’ll try The Trumpet Major.

Of course many terrible things happen in Hardy’s books, but I find it calming to read about Outermost Wessex.

Bunce and Snowy are very happy down there, and Monkey thinks it’s the best place in the world.

Though it’s probably not very peaceful when Trumpet Majors are practising their trumpets.

I’ve been so busy with Kimbleton Tardigrade since he came to stay.

I haven’t spoken to some of my other friends for weeks.

What about Ted and Lopsy, and Bimbo, and Didcot, and cousins Peter and Sylvie and Seaford?

I haven’t even spoken to my sister Jenny for more than a month.

I hope they’re all all right.

I had another postcard from Dillion the dragon yesterday.

He’s still playing his harp in Wales.

I dare say with him away, Ellie may be feeling lonely.

I’ll give her a ring.

Ellie’s Book Club is a very enjoyable event. We meet on Zoom and talk about all the books that we’ve been reading.

I’ll see how Jenny’s getting on. And then I think that will be enough conversation for one day.

Oops.

Being retired myself, I forget that a lot of other people are still carrying on as normal.

Or as near to normal as they can.

My friends and relations are all busy with meaningful activities.

I fear I’ve got selfish and lazy.

This time last year I was learning new things, growing beans, trying to cheer people up with my Welsh Cakes, helping to amuse Bimbo while he convalesced, and planning my great bicycling expedition.

This year I don’t feel very motivated to do anything.

Tomorrow I’ll make a plan for a better way of life.

But for now I’ll lie down and think about playing my triangle with Dillion on his harp, on the top of a Welsh mountain.

I’m an unfriendly bear.

It’s not a nice characteristic, but that’s how I am.

By the time I’d cleared away all the things that Kimbleton Tardigrade had left out all over the floor, and scraped out the last helping of a cake-and-krispie pudding (it tasted fine once I’d removed the outside layer), and listened to my favourite music rather loud with my feet on the table, I’d remembered some of the advantages of living alone.

Not that it wasn’t lovely to have Um and the Baby living here. I’d give anything to have them back.

Oh dear, I do miss them.

And Kimbleton was very good company. A lively person to have around.

But it is nice to be selfish sometimes, and not to have to mind my manners.

By the stage of maturity of the pudding, I guess I must have been asleep for a number of days, if not weeks. I expect Kimbleton has moved on somewhere else.

They’re a keen traveller.

The first time I met them was at the seaside, but they’ve been all over the place.

It was last autumn. I was sunbathing on a sandy beach, and suddenly I opened my eyes to find a tardigrade looking down at me.

I was startled at first, but they soon put me at my ease.

They found me some new tent-poles, and made a tasty seaweedy sauce to go with the old ones (the poles were celery). A very practical sort of chap.

But now that they’ve moved on, I’ll get back to my old solitary life.

It’s quiet. And slower than when there’s someone else to stir things up.

I might do a bit of yoga. Or practise my Welsh. Or possibly bake something tasty.

Perhaps I’ll make a list of things to do.

BBRRRRRRRING!

Oh, there’s the doorbell. It could be the postman. Or little Strawberry bringing me some gooseberries.

No. It’s Kimbleton back again.

Oh my goodness. I hadn’t realised that Kimbleton hadn’t been vaccinated yet.

Being elderly and vulnerable, I’d have been more nervous about having him to stay here if I’d known.

All’s well that ends well, I suppose.

I hope Kimbleton will be gentle. I don’t much like having things stuck down my throat or up my nose. But it’s in a good cause.

Here goes. Open wide.