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| Sunday, 18 May 2003 |
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Everything's alright! The bubbly was served, with Bottom in his element, and the there was this e-mail: Troupe arriving in short while. Please arrange accommodation. 'Gadzooks! I'm going off my head! What about the lion?' Bottom was beside himself.' Where is the lion going to stay? We cant accommodate a lion in our forest hotel, can we? Bottom sometimes forgets that he is not in charge of the forest. I love Botty very much, but that is another matter. He is not the king of this forest, but it is almost impossible to get him to understand that fact. 'If they do bring a lion, it will be accommodated in a special part of the forest where we will set up high security.' 'But your maj, it will have to be in an area where there are no ladies, because a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.' 'From wherever on earth did you ever get such an idea, Botty?' 'Your maj, Well Shakespeare is going to say so about four hundred years from now,' was Bottom's reply. I had to summon Quince to try to solve the problem of accommodation, as he is the Master of Ceremonies. But Quince was not to be seen. Finally someone suggested blowing a blast on the hunting horn to try to get at Quince. But then someone said that the horn couldn't be found since it was last used about five hundred years ago by King Arthur's men, but we could try to borrow Robin O'the Hood's horn. An SOS was sent out to Robin. His reply was that accommodation would not be a problem as they had plenty of room in Sherwood, if the Sri Lankan actors would not mind roughing it out a bit, which meant that they would have to a) put up with smoke from the barbeque; b) sleep out in the open - in the event of no rain and 3) drink only mead, honey and ale since there is no tea in these parts of the earth. I directed Quince to send out an urgent e-mail to Sri Lanka to say that everything was alright and they were welcome to arrive anytime that AirLanka could get them here. All arrangements were in order. Our Forest Lodge Hotel was got ready and we were awaiting the arrival of our counterparts from Sri Lanka. 'Your maj, is St.Peter also coming?' That was Starveling who was very religious and keen to meet anyone who was even remotely connected to his Maker. 'St. Peter? Starveling, are you going out of your mind?' asked Bottom.' This is a troupe of actors who have nothing to do with St. Peter, stupid, said Bottom. 'I just asked,' said Starveling dejectedly. 'Well, don't ask,' replies Bottom rather rudely that poor Starveling began to make sobbing sounds. 'Oh, come off it, Starvey, don't take it amiss. You know that I was just putting on a show of superiority. 'That was Bottom, feeling really sorry for his friend who was cleaning his eyes with the hem of his tunic. That sight really broke Bottom down: 'Oh Starveling, oh Starvey... dear, dear Starvey, I did not mean to hurt you. You of all people ... so gentle and kind and making all our beautiful clothes. We all love you, dear Starvey ... don't we now, Puck?' Tears were also streaming down Bottom's cheeks, but soon they were doing a merry dance with their arms around each other. Starveling had perked up considerably, and so had Bottom. Suddenly there was the sound of some spirited giggling coming from the other side of the forest clearing. 'Oh Thisbe! My Thisbe! Come to your Pyramus, and bring your guitar and don't forget the lion. Oh my Goodness! The lion! The Lion! Get the Lion, Thisbe.' What on earth is all that?' I heard Oberon ask. No reply, like the Beatles' song that would go down in history almost thousand years from now. Then they appeared. 'By my grandmother's goatherd's goatkeeper! If they aren't Pyramus and Thisbe themselves I'll cut off my head! cried Bottom, and the whole company stood still to look at the newcomers who were the players from Sri Lanka themselves. Good gacious! There's hardly time to get things ready,' I said to Oberon. But Bottom had already taken the law into his own hands and rushed off with Puck and Starveling who by now was looking stunned, to the stewards' quarters to order the bubbly-a case of the best, of course. 'But do they drink bubbly in Sri Lanka?' asked Oberon rather condescendingly. 'Your maj, I've heard it said that they drink most potent brew called arrack which they drink all night, and sometimes all day, and have themselves a merry old time,' said Bottom, adding 'perhaps they might have brought some of it for us.' But for now, it is our own bubbly, from our 'super' on the rod to Derby. - Tit |
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