Miras story, p.2
The Inventions of Professor McTavish, page 2
Many servants could be seen tending the garden, under the orders of Mr. Brumbus, the head-gardener. I could tell you many a-tale of the antics of the children and the animals; but my story lies elsewhere. Away from all the hurly-burly, down a narrow stony path sits an old wooden shed, in a quiet dell. And inside this shed an old table stands. Upon which lies a blue velvet pillow, upon which lies ……….
A glove!
“Tend to me”, screamed the glove, as the two servants unlocked the door and came in. “I’m bored” the glove shouted. The servants dusted around, removing any spider’s webs. Again, the glove bellowed out “check there are no mice! For they might nibble a hole in me. I’m cold……..I’m shivering……..sing to me I’m bored……..polish me!” With these remarks and many others, the grumpy glove would moan and groan continually as the servants tended to all the glove’s needs. And for the last ten years he had been cared for thus. The small shadowy shed was his tiny abode over which he was master. No animal came near, and the door was kept locked.
One evening the servants came as usual, and did their normal duties. But as they left the lonely glove, the servants [under orders from the master] left the door ajar.
That night as the stars twinkled, and the soft wind whistled in the trees. The giraffe was having a mid-night stroll. And having an enquiring mind decided to explore down that narrow stony path. When he reached the shed, longing to know who lived here, he butted the door open and plunged his head into the shadows. His horn caught the slumbering glove and up he went, fixed upon the giraffe’s head. After this brief perusal, Geronimo, which was the giraffes name, continued on unaware, with his nightly walk.
When the glove awoke, and saw the stars so bright, and felt the wind so soft. And smelt the warm scent of honeysuckle and roses which drenched the fresh air. He was startled into stillness, and remained quiet as the tall giraffe strode softly across the silent lawn. The glove then said, “who are you”! Geronimo, startled, swiftly galloped across the lawn in fright. The glove managed to calm him down by explaining that he was the one who had lived in the shed for many a-year. And that he was mighty pleased to be out of the shed, and lifted high into the stars and wind! For that whole night, the glove and giraffe talked and talked. And the glove became more and more interested in all the goings on of the manor, the children playing in the garden, and the work of Mr. Brumbus, the head gardener. With great excitement, the glove asked Geronimo to introduce him in the morning. To which he agreed.
At dawn, they found Mr. Brumbus having his breakfast in a tree-camp. Geronimo poked his head through the window and gladly showed him his new friend, the glove. “Well I’ll be blowed”, said the old gardener, “you’ve come out of that shed at last”! They all chatted merrily together until breakfast was finished. Mr. Brumbus then got up, pulled the glove of the giraffe’s horn and exclaimed, “the best thing for you is to be on me ‘and, not stuck in that shed where your no use to anyone. Your made to go on me ‘and. And that’s where I’ll put ye”! He promptly filled the glove with his hand, climbed down the ladder. And set about his morning’s work of firstly pruning the roses; then washing the elephant, with the children’s help. Planting more daffodil bulbs, and various other tasks.
From that day onwards, the glove was plump with joy. Finding pleasure in all the tasks the gardener’s hand turned to. The master of the manor smiled when he heard the good news. He put another log on the fire, which hissed and flickered. And continued studying a large and ancient book.
While at work, Mr. Brumbus would often sing this song: -–––-
To truly love you must be a glove;
Upon the hand of God above.
THE END.
Ps. The glove became the talk of the villages, and was given the name by Mr. Brumbus of Onesimus.
Dear reader,
In due course I will tell you of more amazing stories from the McTavish Manor, and also from my research into the stories I uncover from past centuries going back to King Alfred the Great and beyond.
I now leave you with an ancient blessing from the land of Mizraim :–-
May the fleas of a thousand camels dwell in your hair;
And with every door you open may you meet a grizzly bear!
Nick Gillard, The Inventions of Professor McTavish
