Having a Grimm Time!

Illustration by Robert Anning Bell

UPDATE!
My story got a mention in the Listener! from the highly respected and wonderful Kate Di Goldi. 
"so I’d like to commend several other stories: Jeri and Del, for its economy and wit and re imagining of the witch as a producer of reality television..." 

How cool is that?!

Well, I didn't win the Goethe Institute Grimms fairytale competition and I guess we will find out shortly who has, although nobody I know that entered did (and just about every children's author in NZ had a go!). I wasn't expecting to win at all (no really truly). I wrote it because writing for a competition gives you a really good end point to write for and I have always been deadline driven. Speaking of deadlines I have a book to create for Scholastic by the end of February. Really exciting and I can't really say any more than that except I might have been working my entire creative life to do this book. It's that perfect a topic for me and no, it's not about sauvignon blanc! 

Jeri and Del

(based on Grimm's 'Jorinda and Jorindel')

Once upon a time, in a large field near the River Hutt, there stood a tall tower that dominated the land as far as the eye could see. It was cold, grey and imposing and it was known to all as Avalon.

The tower was ruled by a fearsome witch. Her lips were red as blood, her fingernails sharp and she had a hooked nose that no amount of surgery had managed to fix. She wore her black streaked hair in an exquisitely styled bob and designer clothes only ever graced her back. Her many servants did her bidding in fear, lest they might be put under the axe.

The witch spent her days concocting new formulas by which the ordinary folk might be drugged. They had strange and curious names like 'The Stars Do Dance,' 'Masters of Banqueting' and the most stupefying of all; 'The Hapless Apprentice.' With these she could control and influence the hearts and minds of simple people and consequently dine with the rich and famous. With the aid of her alchemists, sorcerers and the company accountant, she had devised a new and more bewitching enchantment and named it 'Aoteroa Hath Talent'. With it she would be able to capture artless maidens and callow youths then starve and control them until they were slim, stylish and sang like nightingales. They would then be signed up to contracts that would keep them slaves to the Tower forever and make her a real rich witch.

One day, a pair of young lovers, Jeri and Del walked beside the river, picking daisies and sharing a cigarette, which were precious in this land since the King's Treasurer had increased the taxes.

         'I love you so much Del,' said Jeri as she exhaled, 'I want to hang out with you forever and one day maybe like, get a pet?'

Del tucked her tiny hand into his and carried on texting with his other. The rumble and hum of horsepower on the Autobahn beyond was suddenly broken by a sweet sound filling the air around them.

        'It's Lady Gaga!' said Jeri, 'I so want to be like her!'

Del stopped texting and listened to the music.

         'It's coming from over there,' he said pointing to the tower.  Jeri pulled his hand.

         'C'mon, let's go!'

Del shook his head, he stood rooted to the spot; he still hadn't finished his filter tip.

          'Don't go near that tower Jeri, nothing good ever came out of it,' he warned.

          'But listen to that, it's awesome!' Jeri said and let go of his hand. Del watched as she ran towards the music and he knew that she was lost to him. He could neither weep not speak, so he texted his mate Zach Ruru and asked what he should do. Now Zach was a wise young man and said : bro git a puppy, chicks luv dem

So Del set off to the Olde Animate Shoppe to find a canine that might win back the heart of a star struck maiden. He wandered through the door, past guinea pigs in foul smelling straw, sly kittens clawing carpet covered poles and turtles like rocks in their warm watery tanks, until he came to the dogs. There was a hairy beast with teeth as large as dragon fangs, a sleek hound baying for biscuits and a fat poodle with clan tartan coat, but he could not see a pup in sight. At last Del managed to attract the attention of an assistant. She was stout and kindly and reminded him of his grandmother who had been eaten by the wolves of Social Development long since.

           'I have but one small dog' said the woman, 'and it is very special with the power to charm all but the hardest of beings.' She reached inside her fleece and pulled out the tiniest pup imaginable, with ears like a bat and eyes like huge black baubles. It wore a pearl studded collar and trembled in the harsh light.

            'Gross, it looks like a rat,' said Del.

            'Hush, 'said the woman, 'it's a girl thing. One look into this dog's eyes and any one you desire will follow you to the ends of the earth.'

As she handed the minute animal to Del, she told him 'Her name is Daffodil and you must be very, very gentle with her: she has a fearsome bite.'

Del paid the woman all the money he had saved for a new spoiler, tucked the dog into his hoodie and journeyed off towards Avalon. The gates of the tower were heavily guarded by the witch's henchmen. Nobody could enter without a golden pass, which were kept on guard's belt. Del heard music coming from inside the tower, but outside people wept and moaned and threw themselves onto the ground in despair.

            'Why?' they cried, 'oh why are the judges so cruel?'

Del was terrified of what might be inside; wizards, torturers and makeup artists, but most especially the powerful witch. Summoning all his courage he walked up to the gate and took Daffodil out of his hoodie and showed her to the guards.

             'Awww!' said Lars, the fairer of the two, 'Who's a bootiful widdle puppy den?'

Whilst Lars played with Daffodil's ears and kissed her little nose, Del was able to lift a golden pass from the guard's belt.

            'Pass!' barked Ralf, the other guard. Del showed him his card of gold and was let inside the gates. He followed the music up a long corridor until he came to a green door. From behind it came moaning and wails and the occasional right chord. He was sure Jeri was in there but as he turned the handle, a chilling voice said behind him,

             'Have you come for the audition?'

Del turned and found himself staring into the bloodless face of the witch herself. She poked him with her sharp finger. He thrust Daffodil at her, rather too roughly and the dog snapped, biting and tearing at the witch's hands, ruining years of expensive manicures. Whilst the witch screamed and called for her guards, Del yanked open the Green Room door. Twenty five surprised maidens and a few buff young men turned to look in surprise. The wailing stopped as they swallowed back their song practice.

            'Del! What are you doing here?' asked Jeri, walking to the front of the crowd wearing nothing but small silver shorts and an inappropriate tee-shirt.

             'I've come to save you!' said Del, 'from yourself!' he bent down and picked up the dog who had finished savaging the witch outside, 'and, I have bought you this.'

              'You'll need more than that' said Jeri, ignoring the dog, 'I've got through to second round!'

Del looked at her and realised they would never live happily ever after, not whilst she had a microphone in her hand. He turned to leave and bumped into Lars who was daubing the witch's hands with Dettol.

              'Here,' he said, handing the little dog to the guard, 'her name is Daffodil, you can keep her.'

As he walked back up the corridor, he heard Lars running to catch up.

              'Wait,' shrieked the witch, 'come back to me this minute.'

              'No!' yelled Lars over his shoulder, 'I'm going with him.'

The witch screamed at him and demanded to know why her faithful servant would leave her.

              'Because, now I have Daffodil,' replied Lars, 'and you don't bring me flowers anymore.'

                                                                   
(bahahahahahahahaha!!!)

Bottoming out

My TV career then and ...then

This morning I stepped on the scales to find that I had magically gained half a stone somehow and my jeans were a great deal tighter around my derriere than last week.Two things occurred to me:

Firstly, maybe this is what happens when you hit your 50’s and spend the week before Christmas eating and drinking at a multitude of social gatherings; your body just says ‘bring it on’ and there it stays. On your middle, your thighs and your behind (never, I notice, on your chest where it would be more Nigella like). And secondly...if I was Pippa Middleton, my enlarged gluteus maximus might have bought me a publishing deal of epic proportions, well if I was 25 years younger and my sister had just married the next king in waiting of course. And too, if the bottom in question was a great deal more uplifted than it is these days, as it peers downwards seeking the comfort of any available couch. 

As I poured light milk on my porridge to counteract the maple syrup I’d liberally doused it with, my husband pointed out the Dom Post article about the Nelson couple who have ‘hit the mother lode’ with an 8.5 million dollar Lotto win. I hope it’s the friends we go camping with so that we can ditch the tent this year and all go and stay at a luxury resort on their money (they’d shout us wouldn’t they?) I’d like to rest my weighty buns on something more supportive than a camping chair this season. I refused a piece of toast proffered by hubby, not just because the bread was a bit mouldy, but because if we did go and stay somewhere posh, I’d need to look fabulous in togs and I have a week to do it.

This bought me to another realisation...why do I need to look like a 25 year old when I am clearly not? My mother and grandmother never had this compulsion. But they were never on the telly. And low... the light went on- I am not on the telly anymore! With the demise of Avalon and Good Morning moving to Auckland, my current (sporadic and tiny) TV career is at an end. I no longer need to look good on the streets in case someone sees me and it’s all over the Women’s Day that Fifi the Craft Queen wears daggy old jeans, a threadbare Glasson’s tee shirt and no lipstick on a daily basis. Not that I ever made Woman’s Day of course- it’s a scenario that we like to play out in our heads isn’t it? The fame and fortune one. It’s one I’ve been playing for years and like Monopoly (which I suck at) never goes the way you dream of. A roll of the dice and the empire you hoped to build is rubble before you even finished the foundations. 

Fame and fortune, like winning Lotto, rely heavily on two things; commitment and serendipity. The Nelson couple played those same numbers, regularly for years. On the rare occasions that I buy a Lotto ticket I go for a Lucky Dip- my odds of winning are not improved by buying a ticket 3 times a year; and...the numbers simply never come up. Likewise with my TV career. My 7 year stint on What Now as a Craft Queen and 6 years on The Good Morning Show came about not because I was set upon having a job as a television presenter, it was because I was persistently and consistently doing something I really enjoyed; arts and crafts – then someone in broadcasting noticed and wanted me to show viewers. I couldn’t have got the work if I’d taken myself off to broadcasting school and bombarded TVNZ with my CV, show reels and egg cartons. It’s not the way it works.

The flipside of such random luck is the voice inside your head that says ‘This is it baby, you are on your way and now the deals will come in- you’d better start getting professional about this!’ And then you worry about your clothes, your wrinkles, what you might say on Twitter and if your arse is too big. When I worked on What Now there was no internet or digital media; opinion and gossip spread a little slower. Getting drunk on a Friday night didn’t mean your audience would see pictures of you on Saturday all over Facebook, hair and dress askew chatting up a bartender.

 Since I’ve been on Good Morning, I’ve sanitised this blog so that it has become mostly a (fairly boring) web page for craft instructions, set up a fan page for facebook so that my personal life is kept hidden from my art followers and chewed my adult son’s ear off in the supermarket car park for being surly to a check out operator...”Do you know how hard I have worked to build up a public profile? And I don’t want you jeopardising that with your attitude- you hear me?!!!” And still the offers of further greatness haven’t arrived; and at 51 with a sagging bottom, they aren’t going to- unless I take up the art of cuisine (and that is never going to happen).

And you know what? I don’t care! I don’t have to do any of the above anymore; I’m not accountable to viewers who might sit in their armchairs scoffing Cheezels whilst criticising TV presenters for their back fat (the cruel things people say on forums is unbelievable) And I’m going back to why I set up this blog in the first place. To write about stuff that makes me mad, makes me sad or makes me laugh. No-one is going to offer me a £400,000 publishing deal because of my connections and shapely rump. I don’t envy Pippa, she has her whole media scrutinised life to lose ahead of her. I’m delighted to just be ME- an artist, teacher, wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt and friend who loves drawing, making stuff and writing odds and sods to amuse myself and others. I shall also let out my waistbands.

Wishing you all a very happy holiday season 

xxx Fifi