Editorial

Security

Politics

World

Letters

Sports

Obituaries

Magazine

Archives

Weekend Meander

After the seasonal revelries which the Forest Internal Audit is examining, Oberon decided to fly over to Australia for the series of VB onedayers, for rest and relaxation.

Everyone was feeling jaded and rather depressed after the season -Post Seasonal Depression (PSD), as the forest resident doctor diagnosed case after case of symptoms and recommended a good, long holiday for everyone. Bottom claimed that he was heavily overworked during the season and Quince complained of severe stress symptoms what with having to organise all the seasonal festivities, climaxing with the Ball of Balls that lit up the forest night and had the cream of society attending Ob and Tir's invitation to party till well after dawn if they so wished-with breakfast thrown in for good measure-and champagne to follow.

'This Australia,'said Snout at a huddle meeting with some of the forest folk (unknown to Oberon) 'Where exactly is it situated?'

Giggles from Peace Blossom, Mustard Seed, Cobweb and the rest from inside a winter flower.

'Why are you amused?' That was Quince who was obviously feeling the stress of organising a trip to a remote part of the Southern hemisphere.

'Because it is a remote part of the Southern hemisphere,' they chorussed, and giggled.

'Now, what is wrong with the 'Southern hemisphere?' they asked.

'Nothing is wrong with it except that we know really very little about it,' said Quince.

'They say that these Australians were originally convicts who were deported, or whatever it is,from England.'

'From England?' rose a great cry.

'Well, every country has its skeletons in the cupboard,' said Quince.

'So do you mean to say that these Australians are skeletons?' The Blithe Spirits of the Night chorussed their question, shivering in the chilly air.

'No, no,not at all.far from it. They say that these Australians are masters of the game.'

'But we taught them the game,' said Puck who was anti-Australian and loved his England.

'Actually, we are not going to see Australia but England play Sri Lanka,' said Quince in a tone of voice that indicated that he was not prepared o carry on with the discussion.

'Oh, Sri Lanka! The country with the lovely sweet water that restores people who are feeling a little under the weather or not quite alright?' piped a little small question from the winter flower's depths. Suddenly silence. Oberon had been giving ear to all these conversations and decided to end them all because he did not want any diplomatic wrangles with any country.

'What is going on here?' asked Ob, sliding down his tree .

'Nothing, sire.' said Quince. 'Some of our folk wanted to know something about Australia where we will be going to see the VB one-dayers,' said Quince, the master diplomat.

'Quince, we leave tonight for Australia,' said Oberon. 'Make all the necessary arrangements and see that everyone is comfortable. Also see that they know something about the prowess of the Australian cricketers.'

'Yes, Your Majesty,' and Quince bowed himself out.

So that night we prepared to leave for the Great Australian Outback or whatever it is called. Elaborate arrangements had to be made because we were going straight on from a Western midwinter to a Southern midsummer.

'Curious, isn't it, how one part of the globe is having a midwinter, like us, while another is having a midsummer?' mused a rather wistful Bottom as he packed his bag for the long trip South. 'Curious indeed,' adjoined Pack who was not looking forward to more sunshine than he had already had this summer.

The clothes problem had to be sorted out with Starveling and some new designers who are dying to get on the fashion bandwagon. So a conference was called, over which I presided.

There was very little time, because we had to leave the very next day to see the match.

'Is Australia the country that produced the world's greatest batsman by name Donald Bradman?' asked one of the tiny Blithe Spirits of the Night.

'Yes, it i. But remember, he is SIR Donald Bradman,' said Quince in reply, adding 'we dont want to get into any diplomatic wrangles now, do we?'

Quince came into the picture with a couple of travel bags and some documents.

'Wake-up call is precisely 5.00 a.m. tomorrow,' he announced like the true impresario he had turned himself into.

- Tit

News | Business | Features | Editorial | Security |
Politics | World | Letters | Sports | Obituaries | Magazine

Produced by Lake House
Copyright 2001 The Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd.
Comments and suggestions to :Web Manager