Welcome In

 

 

Was just sitting down with a cup of tea to write this first post, when something happened that I just have to share with you. Come this way – but please be quiet just in case someone catches us.

OK. Look at this door … it’s the door to twenty two years ago.

  

  

  

  

  

I know that sounds strange. I couldn’t believe it when I realised, yet it turns out that on thirtieth birthdays twisted and delightful things can occur (a little like when Alice went tumbling, tumbling heels over head down the rabbit hole). 

 

Would you like to follow me backwards in?

    

You did! Excellent.  This is my room from when I was eight years old. That’s the bureau that my mum and dad bought for me to write my epic novels on such as Bethan Christopher’s first ever romance “How New York Became”. It was a mix between the Little House On The Prairie and Sex And The City. I loved my bureau. It supported my creative dreams. To me it wasn’t just a desk. It was an Imagination Box.

 

When I sat at the Imagination Box, little characters inside me morphed into creatures with flesh and blood and wings and dreams of their own.

  

Like Pandora’s Box, simply by opening the Imagination Box, strange enchantments could be unleashed.

Dare I open it again? Will the drawers still be still hold gypsy potions and magical spells? What will be in there?

 

Let’s see now … Phew. No demons. Well, that’s a good start.

And wow, look! The little nooks are still there. Those fairies have been in their jars for a long old time … I hope they aren’t unhappy with me. 

What’s this? An old book I used to write my secrets in …

And of course, cunning plans. Ha.

And what’s this one? Dreams of the future? Once upon a times? Hold on … look … a key has appeared on this drawer. There could be magical dust still left in this old Imagination Box, after all.   

Perhaps in this drawer?

Well, here’s an old love letter ….

Written in runic. That’s pretty magical …

Some semi precious stones. I used to love amethysts when I was a little.

An old postcard with a flamenco dancer,

Sent by my beloved friend Jewels when she went to Spain for the WHOLE summer holidays (it seemed).

And what’s this? A letter to me? It’s says … “Do not open until January 28th 2011.” Isn’t that today?

O-kay … this was unexpected.

It’s a letter to myself – from myself. And it’s telling me to go out into the garden.

Nice bracelet. I think I’ll take that with me.

Goodbye little fairy people.

Goodbye old Imagination Box. Thank you for this birthday magic. I wish I could take you out into the world – like a portable Imagination Box – instead of leaving you here twenty two years ago. 

So, down I go. Back to present, back to now.

To the solid wood doorway to my own back garden.

And out …

Into the watery January sun.

                                                                                         But wait …. Look! What’s that – down there by the gap in the wall? It wasn’t there before. Can you see it?

 

It looks like some sort of box …

Like a Victorian desk, but without legs . I’ve never seen anything like it.

Whoever left it here has left a pot of tea and a tiny teacup too …

If I didn’t know better … no wait … it couldn’t possibly be …. Could it?

Could it be an Imagination Box? A brand new, portable Imagination Box?

  

Look! On the side it’s maker has carved a word – “Believe”.

Should I look inside now … no. Let’s wait for another time. For now I’m just happy to have a new Imagination Box … Somewhere to lean my elbow and think up weird scenarios, fresh books and  delightful things just for you.

And drink tea. 

Peculiar tea.  

 

Really, REALLY peculiar tea.

THE END

Bon Bon – January 28th @ 13.00