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| Sunday, 8 September 2002 |
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"Well met by moonlight, proud Titania!' That was Oberon bidding me for the evening in an improvement on Will Shakes's 'ill met by moonlight.' Oberon has alot of literary talent but because of his royal status in life, cannot put quill or pen to paper or parchment for the public to see. He is also very creative, which is how he invented a better, more friendly greeting. We were gathering in the little clearing in the grass where we usually have staff meetings or whatever, to discuss plans for the Carnival in the forest which was Puck's idea. Since we saw the Notting Hill street party, everyone - Ob and myself included - has been hooked on the idea. That was one great big ball of a street celebration with people of every conceivable colour rocking and swaying their way through the streets of one of England's most famous black towns. We watched from various vantage points and were at an advantage because of our invisibility. Puck had the time of his life, dressed in a bright pink outfit, with glitzy whiskers to look like a cat, and Bottom was in his element, his chronic depression gone, dancing through the streets with wild abandon. Quince did all the trafficking, seeing that the forest people did not get bumped by the Carnival folk and that kind of thing. But the star of the show as far as we were concerned was Ob himself, and, come to think of it, me as well, as we danced in royal style to the conga beat. Our clothes were by Mustard Seed and company who put their tiny heads together to design the stuff and then calling in Starveling to do the tailoring. Ob's body-stocking was in a brilliant green with gold spangles, and mine was in snowy white with silver and gold sequins and beads. And our head-dresses were out of this world. We had our skins painted ebony and dark chocolate to fuse with the skin colours of the revellers, but Bottom flatly refused to change the colour of his skin for 'anybody's blooming' carnival.' We swung and swayed into the wee hours, sustaining ourselves on barrels and barrels of good English beer (after all, this was a common man's street party and so we couldn't expect champagne, now, could we?) There was no roasted venison - Bottom came close to tears at that - but plenty of Sainsbury roast beef sandwiches which, for a change, was good. The sun was just rising above the Eastern cliffs, tinting the sky blush pink when we decided to call it a day and return home. But that turned out to be a street party in itself! With Bottom and Puck leading the way, we danced our way halfway to the forest to a samba beat - Bottom loves to samba - and finally flopped down on the greensward, tired to the bone, and slept till past noon. Refreshed after tea and a quiet swim in our private swimming pool which is really a small lake in the middle of the forest, with a mini waterfall, we met in the clearing to discuss plans for our own forest carnival which was fixed for one week from now. The guest list would include Robin and his Merry Men, John Travolta, Madonna - if she could come all the way - and, of course, Luciano Pavarotti. The list was discussed and then drawn up by Quince who was in charge of the whole thing. It was decided that costumes would be designed by Starveling and the Rest and would be as exotic and colourful as the Notting Hill costumes. Details of the clothes were not discussed as they were to be a surprise for Oberon and me, which was a very sweet thought announced by Cobweb, Mustard Seed and Peace Blossom, whose idea it was. Bottom also came up with some ideas; he was still lost in the clouds of his imagination after Notting Hill and even suggested inviting our Lennox Lewis. Everyone was delighted at the idea and Quince was sent off to the nearest Communication Centre to send off an E-mail to Lennox. Then it was that someone had the idea of having a play going along with the carnival jingbang to add a touch of literary interest to the entertainment. It was well received, and Bottom, Quince and Snout were to take charge of that part of the celebration. The play was to take the form of a performing circus with people reading poetry and singing songs ranging from mediaeval ditties to the Beatles to the Backstreet Boys. Readings from Will Shakes's plays were also to be performed and everyone was working up a whole lot of enthusiasm. It was decided to ask Pavarotti to sing 'Nasun Dorma' which rocked the world when he sang it at the World Cup Soccer final a couple of years ago. 'But how will that go with Edmondo Ross's Latin beat and the special conga band which Fidel was very kindly sending from Havana?' asked someone. 'Oh, come on!' drawled Bottom, 'Haven't you heard of fusion music? It's all the rage these days.' 'But how in heaven's name are you going to fuse Pavarotti and salsa?' asked Quince who knew a thing or two about music. 'Well, let's settle that later on,' said Puck, with surprising maturity. 'Now, what about having some animals to add more glamour to the whole thing?' asked Snout.' We could have Tigers from India - Royal Bengal Tigers - and even lions from Africa,' he added. "Whatever is that?' That was Bottom who seemed aghast at the idea of animals joining in the forest carnival. 'Good heavens! Lions and tigers among ladies is a most dreadful thing!' Titania |
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