the first phone call

3rd October 2020

(Tom’s still away on his bike ride. This is Ruffy keeping you up to date.)

The weather is definitely autumnal.

I’m worried about Tom. Can he get a hot drink? Is his tent waterproof?

I was just cooking myself a warming meal, when the phone rang.

It was the bear himself!

beep beep beep beep beep beep beep

Oh bother.

Oh dear, there were so many things I meant to ask him!

And so much advice I meant to give him!

I hope he phones again soon.

He sounded all right.

But has he got enough to eat? And what will he do if it rains? And will he manage to find the Welsh bits of seaside?

If he’d taken his mobile with him, then I could have phoned him.

But he was right, it’s not a very mobile mobile.

And I guess he’s enjoying travelling light. Fairly light.

It was good to hear his voice.

a large parcel, and the fifth postcard

11th October 2020

Tom’s still away on his bicycle trip. This is Lopsy letting you know the latest.

I’m just off for a run. This is where I climb over the fence into the meadow.

Teddy has persuaded me to get back into running every morning.

He’s right, I have got a bit tubby with all of his delicious French cooking.

He’s given up making croissants, but he’s practising gateaux, ready to make a really perfect one for when Tom gets home.

(I hope Tom comes home soon. I miss him.)

That was a raspberry cake. Now Teddy has made a new rule: only one slice at a time.

I did only eat one slice at a time, but quite soon after each other.

I left a slice for Teddy.

That will be the last gateau au framboises. Little Strawberry says her raspberries have finished for the year, and Teddy will have to move on to beetroot cake if he wants a spot of colour.

This morning Teddy’s doing boring press-ups, so I’m going out for my jog.

I’ve paused for breath near Ellie and Dillion’s house, and I can hear a lovely sound.

It’s not exactly melodic, or harmonic. It sounds quite potential.

I’ll peep through the window.

Dillion seems to be playing a Welsh harp!

Ah, he’s seen me.

I’ll run home now and ring Didcot, to hear all of Tom’s news.

Oh dear, all the time I was chatting with Dillion, Teddy thought I was running round and round the meadow.

He’s been making a new gateau – a coffee and courgette gateau. We think it will be very healthy, because of the courgettes.

But only one slice each for now. And Teddy says that half a cake doesn’t count as a slice.

the Book Club is missing Tom

15th October 2020

Tom’s still away on his bike ride. This is Ellie, reporting on the latest Book Club meeting.

We meet on Zoom.

The topic this time was France.

Teddy’s been learning French since March, so he had suggested we talk about French books, and books set in France.

He brought The Little Prince and explained the little prince’s philosophy of life.

I brought all my Anatole books, about a cheese-tasting mouse in Paris.

Gibbs told us about the Red Balloon, and we watched a little bit of the film.

(Gibbs and I had agreed before the meeting that we wouldn’t go on and on about our wonderful trip to Paris to find the places in the book, but I’ve promised him that I’ll mention it on the Book Club pages about French books.)

But then Lopsy reminded us that at the last Book Club meeting, Tom had said that the Red Balloon was much too sad. And that made us all sad about Tom not being here.

We thought about the bad boys with their catapults, attacking Pascal’s red balloon, and it made us feel anxious about Tom.

Points tried to take our minds off our worries by talking about revolutionary politics, and A Tale of Two Cities.

But we all remembered about the ruthless Marquis, and the guillotine, and that made the world seem a very dangerous place, so we worried all the more.

Teddy had the good idea that Lopsy could recite one of the Madeline books to us to cheer us up.

She knows them all by heart, and they’re very jolly.

Everyone was sad and cross by now, and there was an argument about how to pronounce “Madeline”.

In the end I had to intervene as chairperson, and say that on this occasion we would rhyme the name with FINE, not FIN or FEN.

The first page of each of the books incudes the couplet “They left the house at half past nine – the smallest one was Madeline”, which I believe backs up my choice.

I didn’t argue the case, I just said we could discuss it further another time.

But unfortunately Lopsy chose to tell us the story of Madeline and the Gypsies, and Points objected that the book is racist.

She says we shouldn’t use the word “gypsies”, and that the book promulgates the idea that all Travellers are in the habit of kidnapping children.

Lopsy was firm in defending her book.

She says that Romany Gypsies are a distinct ethnic group, and that the book does not use the word in a pejorative way, but is very positive in representing their skills and culture.

She also said, correctly, that Miss Clavel had carelessly left Madeline and Pepito behind at the carnival, whereas the gypsies had taken very good care of them, apart from not making them brush their teeth at night.

Points was just starting to object again, but I cut this discussion short too (I think I’m getting better at chairing meetings) and I invited Lopsy to go ahead and tell us the story.

(I discussed some more with Points after the meeting, and she has convinced me that we shouldn’t use the word “Gypsy”. Any word that has a history of being used as abuse had better be avoided by people without a personal reason for using it as part of their identity, which means most of us at the Book Club.

I do think now that I should have asked Lopsy to tell us a different Madeline story. That one has some wonderful parts, but there are plenty of wonderful parts in the other books too. We live and learn.)

Lopsy recited the story beautifully, but when she got to the part where Madeline and Pepito send a postcard home, to reassure Miss Clavel that they are all right, she started to sniff and had to stop.

Poor Lopsy. She says she’s a shadow of her former self, from worrying about Tom.

This isn’t exactly true, but she certainly was too snuffly to carry on.

That was a pity, because we would soon have reached the happy scenes of homecoming and reunion, but we didn’t get that far.

I felt that as the convenor of the meeting, it was my responsibility to stop everyone from bursting into tears.

I suggested that we all share any news we’ve had about Tom, and look forward to having a celebratory Zoom meeting when he gets back.

So everyone read out their postcards.

Madame Cholet and Reindeer had had one of the Black Welsh cow postcards from Tom (he told Walrus that he’d bought a bargain pack of them, and several of us had been sent the same picture). Madame Cholet’s card said that Tom had eaten one of his tent poles.

Lopsy got agitated again, worried that the tent would fall down.

But Reindeer said that Tom is managing fine with sturdy plants holding his tent up.

Then I showed them my map, where I’ve been marking what I think has been Tom’s route so far.

We’re pretty sure that he’s now in the south of Wales, and we know there are beautiful beaches there.

So we hope he’ll soon have achieved his aim of having a lovely seaside holiday, and will be setting off home.

Then Dillion played us a tune on the Welsh harp that Tom has sent him.

Dillion’s been practising day and night.

Luckily it’s quite a quiet instrument (I live with Dillion, but my room’s up in the attic, and anyway I’m a sound sleeper).

We were all exhausted by then, and the music made us feel pleasantly sleepy.

We agreed that we’d Zoom together again in a few days, just to exchange Tom news.

That’s if he hasn’t got home by then.

Lopsy asked if at the next Book Club we could read books about people getting lost.

I’m not sure whether that will cheer us up. Perhaps it had better be books about people getting lost and found.

But anyway, Tom isn’t lost. He’s just travelling.

He may go anywhere!

the last postcard

22nd October 2020

Tom is still away on his bicycle, trying to get to the seaside.

I’m Bimbo, catching you up on the latest news.

I had a postcard this morning. I suppose it’s from Tom.

It’s a funny fuzzy sort of picture of some birds and rabbits. I expect the card got wet and the ink smudged.

The message is in code. Does Tom think that someone is spying on him?

He says “No Mr Stumps”. I’ve never heard of any Mr Stumps. Probably an alias.

Is Tom having to hide from the authorities?

I’d better consult my friends. I’ll ask them to meet up on Zoom, and see what they make of it.

How does it work? Join… Invite… What am I supposed to do now?

Launch meeting. Yes, that worked. They’re all here.

(This is because we’re supposed to be working towards a Zoom Musical Ensemble, and I don’t know what will happen if people keep on taking up brand new instruments. Tom was doing very well on the triangle – his tone was really becoming quite pure and silvery. You can hear it on the Ensemble page.)

I’ve got my courgettes. And I think I’ve got a good idea. A nice film with lots of songs in it.

That’s nearly five minutes.

Yes, Ruffy’s ready. Oh, he’s using lots of props. I’ve only got my courgettes.

What film is that meant to be? Jaws, maybe?

Time to press this button!

I wish Tom was here. He’d enjoy a game like this.

an email from a stranger

28th October 2020

Jenny here, with some good news.

It’s more than a month since my brother Tom set off to cycle to the seaside.

He’s sent a few postcards, but we’re not sure where he is, or whether he’s all right.

We’ve all been very worried about him.

But I’ve just got an email, with pictures of Tom.

It’s from K. Tardigrade. I’ve never heard of her. Or him. Them.

It seems they’ve met Tom at the seaside and are kindly sending me news of him. They very thoughtfully put a reassuring heading, so that I wouldn’t panic.

Here’s the email:

Your brother is well
Dear Jenny
You don’t know me. I’m a knitted tardigrade in the late afternoon of my life.
I met your brother Tom when I was taking an evening walk by the seaside.
It was a delightful surprise to meet a friendly bear in pyjamas, admiring some late-flowering sea holly in the sand dunes.

We got talking (at a safe distance, of course), and we arranged to meet again the next day.
He’s quite a traveller! I heard that he’s been on the road for weeks.
He had eaten three of his tent-poles, and the fourth one had gone rather bendy.
We ate that one together, with quite a tasty samphire dip that I’d made, and then I fetched him another head of celery from the village shop, so he could set up his tent again.
Of course, being vulnerable, your brother shouldn’t go into shops.
But we tardigrades are extremely hardy. In fact, so far I haven’t heard of a single case of COVID-19 being recorded in a tardigrade.
But enough about me.

Tom said he was worried that he can’t get news to his friends at home because he’s run out of postage stamps.
So I’ve offered to email you, and send you these pictures, to prove that he really is at the seaside.

I didn’t think he would actually go in the water. It was quite rough, and very cold. But your brother is indomitable.

Here he is digging in the sand afterwards, to warm up.

He insisted I take a picture of him sun-bathing, to show you how warm it is here.
It’s true that it’s not quite as cold as you might expect towards the end of October, but it’s not what I myself would consider sun-bathing weather.

My holiday is now over, but your brother plans to spend one more day at the seaside before heading home.
I can assure you that when I saw him, Tom was fighting fit and in high spirits.
I’m sure you’ll be seeing him again very soon. And he’s bringing a sea-shell back for you, Jenny.
Yours
K. Tardigrade

What a kind person!

It sounds as though Tom is having a lovely seaside holiday. I’m so glad.

And he’s bringing me a sea shell! Dear Tom.

I hope it’s a very small light one, he must have got so much luggage on his bicycle.

I’ll ring Ruffy and let him know the news.

Oh dear, I wasn’t really listening to that. I can’t stop thinking about Tom.

I don’t think it’s safe for a small bear to be swimming in rough seas. Specially now that the tardigrade has left, so there’s no one around to call for help if Tom gets into difficulties.

He looks well in those pictures, but he is an elderly bear with underlying conditions. Can it be wise to be sleeping out of doors at this time of year?

And it does sound as though he’s not following all the advice about Distancing. Did he sanitise the celery, for instance, before incorporating it into his tent?

Supposing he’s caught the virus and is taken ill on a sand dune somewhere miles away from anywhere?

And even if he’s well, how is he going to find his way home?

I’d better see if a bit of drumming can take my mind off worrying about Tom.

It’s time I practised anyway.

Drumming always makes me feel calmer. But I will be glad when he’s home.