September the 10th

Well, I’m all settled in at last. What a stroke of luck meeting Christina like that in the street. I wasn’t long off the train - feeling a bit lost to tell the truth. What a sweet woman she is. Another time and place and I might just have fallen in love with her. But that can never be of course. Still, she offered me this room. It has a lovely view of the river. Yes, I shall try to be happy here and forget as best I can all my past misadventures. She introduced me to her husband, Gutman. He couldn’t get over the fact that I am a dwarf. He is not the friendliest of people, but perhaps he is only shy. He didn’t seem particularly fond of having a stranger in the house, let alone a dwarf. But Christina told him quite firmly, ‘This is Ironmonger, Gutman. He’ll be staying with us for a little while until he finds somewhere permanent.’ I’ve never really liked my name but the way she said it, so gently and warmly, I felt quite proud of it and not ashamed in the least.

Gutman is not a well man. He seems to spend much of his time in bed. I told him I was something of a handyman, which isn’t strictly true. Anyway, he seemed convinced enough, quite pleased in fact. I only hope he doesn’t ask me to do any odd jobs around the house. Still I suppose I could blunder through at a pinch. I should have just told him some vague story about working in a shop and being here on a little holiday. Oh well, it’s too late now. No use crying over spilt milk. I also mentioned casually that I was something of a gamesman. Gutman’s eyes lit up at that, so I suggested that we might indulge in the odd boardgame to pass the time. He seemed genuinely grateful. Indeed, life must hold few surprises for poor Gutman.

Spent the best part of the evening unpacking my suitcase. It’s a bit the worse for wear. I must invest in a new one when my luck turns. Perhaps it already has - touch wood. There’s so little room left in the suitcase for the basic necessities after all the games have been packed. I suppose my old boardgames are a necessity of life too in their own way. At least the games are in some sort of order now. I’ve set them up on the bookshelf near the window - quite a tidy little arrangement. So everything seems to be taken care of. I can breathe easy.

A strange thing happened earlier this evening. I have the room next to theirs. The bathroom adjoins mine. I was unpacking the suitcase. My hands were quite grubby from all the sorting and handling. I wandered into the bathroom to have a wash, and lo and behold, Christina was lying there in the bathtub, undressed naturally, and humming a haunting melody. The music of the spheres, I thought to myself. I blushed and apologized profusely. She laughed and excused me. I came back into my room. I was restless for some time. In desperation I got out one of my favourite games. How good it was to hold the blue and yellow counters in my hand again. The board and one of the dice have long since vanished, but I made my own board and coloured it in. Buttons really do make very effective counters. I played several inconclusive games. It and the desired effect and I felt much calmer. I’m sure Gutman will enjoy it too. It is the ideal game for invalids - sedate and not too demanding. Hopefully we shall advance onto something a little more rewarding soon enough.

Tomorrow I might do some sightseeing around the town if the weather’s fine. But for now it’s high time I went to bed. Yes, I feel very comfortable here. One last look at the river and then bed.


September the 11th

Today has been very eventful. I woke early in my new room, as one always does in a new room, and acquainted myself thoroughly with the kitchen. I committed my first faux pas - unthinkingly eating Gutman’s sausages. I walked past their bedroom on tiptoe but soon realized they were wide awake. I could hear Gutman’s voice clearly. Alas, he was talking animatedly about sausages. They are obviously something of a treat for him. I thought I’d better go and explain to him immediately my little mistake. I knocked and entered and exchanged a warm good morning with them both. I thought it best to make light of the whole business. I told Gutman I’d been rummaging casually through the refrigerator and had come across some sausages. I commented briefly on their excellent appearance. He agreed enthusiastically and said how much he enjoyed a good sausage for breakfast and how therapeutic they were. I asked him if I might perhaps join him for breakfast tomorrow. Gutman was obviously delighted with the prospect and said, ‘Of course, Ironmonger, of course! But why not join me this morning? There’s plenty for us both.’ I broke the news as jovially as I could, hardly expecting the glum silence that ensued. ‘But there were six,’ he finally said very glumly. A gross exaggeration. I told him politely but firmly that I was never in the habit of counting sausages and had no intention of starting now. At that point Christina got out of bed, her flimsy nightdress falling away from her breasts. I must confess I didn’t know where to look. Perhaps her unselfconsdousness is due to the fact that I am a dwarf. But she is so innocent, so sweet to me. She bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, holding my head between her hands. I’d never noticed what a beautiful scent she has - like lilacs. I couldn’t help once more admiring the exquisite shape of her bosom in the few seconds she bent over me. In my embarrassment I blurted out about the game. ‘What about a game of Horsies, Gutman?’ I said. ‘Horsies?’ said Gutman astonished.

I rushed back to my room and gathered up the said game, completely forgetting my resolve of the previous evening to introduce Gutman to one of the more sedate games first off. The game which goes under the name Horsies is, in fact, the most fast-moving of all my games. I have whiled away many a solitary hour with my gallant steeds. I have names for them all. Upon my return to the room Christina was in the process of getting dressed. I pretended not to notice. ‘Here it is, Gutman,’ I said, resting the board on the bed. ‘But they’re only matchsticks,’ said Gutman, picking up one of the horses. Of course, he hadn’t yet been initiated into the finer points of the game. I told him how I’d thought of the idea for the game, and showed him the board I’d made. It’s covered in pretty pastel squares. I then told Gutman how I’d coloured them all in myself with an old set of coloured pencils that Mother had given me years ago. Most of the pencils have been sharpened so many times they’re little more than stumps. You can barely hold them. Nevertheless, they’re quite sufficient for my purposes.

Despite appearances, the game is one of great complexity. I spent the next thirty minutes explaining the ground-rules, the names of the horses, the unique scoring system, the values of all the different colours, and the rest. Gutman pretended to snore. Still, once we got underway the morning passed pleasantly enough. My long experience with the intricacies of the game carried the day however.

The afternoon was wasted unfortunately. We’d only been playing for a couple of hours when Gutman accidentally upset the board. He then asked me to run an errand for him. I was very happy to oblige. He wrote the address on a piece of paper. I was to deliver a sack of potatoes. His directions unfortunately were rather vague. Anyway, I set out. It was very warm, real spring weather. I’d never realized how heavy a sack of potatoes could be, especially in spring. I certainly became acquainted with the town. It has many pleasant landmarks and places of interest, apart from the dogs. But by dusk I still hadn’t located the required street. Obviously Gutman had confused the names. The street apparently did not exist. Or at least no-one had heard of Pox Lane when I accosted them. It seems people here don’t take very kindly to strangers. In fact they were quite suspicious of me, almost curt. Still, I suppose it’s the same everywhere these days. To cut a long story short, I dragged the potato sack wearily home. It was well and truly dark by the time I returned. I found the door bolted for the night, much to my chagrin. They probably thought I’d found alternative lodgings. Happily a side-window had been left open, just enough for me to scramble through. Christina made me a cup of tea and said she was very sorry that Gutman had sent me on the ill-fated errand.

I think I shall retire early tonight. Gutman seems to be in a bad mood for some reason. I can hear him next door, pacing up and down and talking quite loudly. I can’t make out what he’s saying. Perhaps he’s in pain. Something about a nightdress. He keeps telling her to close the window. He must have caught a chill. Oh dear, I almost nodded off. Yes, that’s right. I just remembered what a lovely soft armchair they have in their room. It’s covered in pink flowers and it’s tucked right away in the corner. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to sleep in the armchair? Just my size. What sweet dreams I’d have! Speaking of which, I think it’s time I retired. Christina said she’d bring me a cake before bed, but I can’t wait up any longer. One last look at the river and then ‘beddy-byes’ as my mother used to say.


September the 12th

Today I’ve decided to break my rule. It’s still quite early in the morning but I thought it best to mention several things before the hectic events of the day drive them from my mind. First and foremost, I found a delicious cake beside my bed when I woke up. How thoughtful and kind of Christina to remember her promise. I’m sure I never mentioned my partiality to cakes, or at least only in passing. I’m afraid cakes have always been my one vice. Still, I suppose there are worse vices in this world than the odd cake. Just the same I shouldn’t let it get out of hand.

To pass on to less pedestrian matters. A strange thing happened last night. After only a couple of nights I’ve become very fond of looking at the river from my window, just for a few minutes before I hop into bed. I was very tired last night so I couldn’t write it down. I wish I had. It seems quite unreal now, in the light of day. Perhaps I just dreamt it, but I’m sure I didn’t. It’s happened before, seeing odd things when I’ve gotten over-tired. And they did warn me about it I suppose. But it was never that real, that definite.

This is what happened. I was looking at the river. It was a full moon (yes, I’ll check that tonight) and the river seemed to glow like liquid gold between the dark trees. An inland river is still a strange thing to me, mysterious. I who was brought up so close to the ocean waves. But I saw - and now it sounds silly -I saw an old sailing ship, a galleon perhaps (what a beautiful word galleon is) lulling up the river, its sails silver in the moonlight. Silent and ghostly. It had a beautiful carved prow - a mermaid with long golden hair. Her face shone radiantly. I peered and strained my eyes, pressing my face against the window to see her better (the river is some distance off). Then I recognized her. This is what I don’t understand. It was Christina’s face, and, I’m ashamed to admit it, her breasts as well. But then the great ship glided on around the bend and her view was lost to me. And I suddenly saw all the other creatures, the ‘mariners,’ on the ship. It was awful. Monkeys clambered all over the rigging, and I heard their screeching from afar. And on the deck there were goats, and pigs - not ordinary pigs, but horrible ones -and there were all sorts of strange-looking people, as if they were deformed or crippled, but I couldn’t see properly. They were scurrying all over the place, and squawking. Some of the people were riding on the pigs and jumping on them. And all the while a solitary figure in the crow’s nest was staring out who knows where. He had the face of a simpleton, and he was pissing down onto the deck and staring out with a stupid sort of smile. But it all only lasted for a few seconds. I was too tired even to feel distressed. But today is a new day and I must thank Christina for the cake. Perhaps I should broach the subject of the armchair with her. Perhaps also introduce Gutman to the subtle novelties of Snails - a game for thinkers. Acquaint him with the colourful history of the game. Well, the whole day still awaits me. It’s high time I said good morning to Christina. I haven’t been this excited for ages. At long last I feel that old urge to get on with things - so without further ado...

[continued]

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