On the Road Again...

I was standing on the other side of the door, feeling completely naked with nothing to grumble about. It was all in the surrender box.

But I did feel a lot lighter and ready for adventure. I rummaged around in my bag, through all the things I had thought I would never see again from my last Lemurian journey, and my hand closed around the small packet wrapped in leaves and tied with string, that Le Enchanteur had given me. My mystery gift…

It felt strange, so I unwrapped it and an old clay pipe fell out. There was no tobacco in this pipe – never had been, by the look of it – but someone had drilled holes all along the stem.
I put the pipe to my lips and blew a tentative note. A bright cheery tune came out, mellowed by the bowl of the pipe.

I started walking along the serpentine rod, which was disappearing into the distance in a very serpentine way. No doubt I was too late for a donkey – letting go of my skin with its comfortable crust of grumbles had taken some time. But no – as I rounded the bend, I saw a large donkey cropping thistles by the road.

It wasn’t Christabel, my first Lemurian donkey. She has gone on in search of glittering academic prizes, so I hear. This donkey was grey and oatmeal in colour, with a large knobby head. He was wearing a tam o’shanter with holes for his ears to stick through.

Reminding myself that Lemurian donkeys are not your common or garden variety, I introduced myself.

``Hamish,” he said briefly, through a mouthful of thistle. ``Ye’re late.”

``I know, I usually am,” I apologized.

``Aye, so I heard. Well, get on then, we’d best be off.” He swung his rump around so I could clamber on board.

``Where are we going?” I asked as we set off down the road at a leisurely amble – late or not, Hamish seemed in no hurry, pausing now and then to snatch another thistle.

``that’s up to you,” he said. ``I’m no fashed where we go.”

I took out the clay pipe and started to play again. The merry little tune turned into a hornpipe, and I smelled the tang of the sea on the breeze. Freed of my petty little worry worms, I breathed it in deeply and felt a longing for something fun, adventurous and completely unplanned.

``Let’s go to sea!” I said.

Hamish cocked an ear at me. ``No the noo,” he said. ``There’s pirates about, ye ken.”
I clamped my teeth down on my pipe, and narrowed my eyes against the glare of the sun.

``Pirates?” I said. ``Sounds – interesting.”

Hamish heaved a sigh and left the serpentine road, followed a rocky track down to the sea.

``I can see,” he said over his shoulder, ``that you’re going tae cause me quite a bit o’ trouble, aye.”