Fairy village

Back in the seventies, in a shop in Lavenham, during a trip home to the UK with me, my mum purchased some ceramic Tudor houses.

On a subsequent trip with her sister, she bought more. I bought her some. By the time she died – way too young – in 1988, she had quite the collection. I gave a number of them away as mementos to a group of her friends, but I kept half a dozen. They sat on the dining room windowsill for the past 20 years. I’ve even added a couple of things – a ceramic Greek church picked up on a trip to Zakynthos, salt and pepper shakers in the shape of Dutch tall houses. They looked cute on the windowsill, but did I really want to move them to my next home?

One day, out for one of my walks with Joe and Georgie, a perfect solution struck me.

In the middle of the biggest part on the island there is a huge old maple tree into one of the nooks of which someone had many years ago inserted homemade fairy houses.

Over the years one of the fairy houses collapsed, but the bicycle remained and a few other modest additions were made. There are lots of other little nooks and crannies.

And so one day last summer, I moved the little houses.

Cute, eh?

There was, of course, the possibility of the notorious whimsy police taking umbrage and removing the little dwellings, but the fairy houses above had been there for a long time, so it was probably safe.

Then, in January, potential danger! The local nature group, which recommends walks in its monthly newsletter, recommended this walk.

“Tiny elves’ homes nestled in the bark”?!? Oh, no! What if people nicked the little houses? I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t be as bad as the whimsy police simply removing and probably chucking them. I guess if someone loved a little house (or church) so much they wanted to felt they had to take it home, they would be depriving other people of enjoyment, but, if they felt that strongly, that would be okay(ish).

An investigation was required.

Hurrah! Not only were houses and church intact, but a couple of others had been added, along with some figures. However…

What you can’t see from the photo (because annoying WordPress won’t let me load a video) is that the elf, in addition to being too big, is dancing. A dancing elf in the middle of the Tudor village? No, I don’t think so. Even I am ready to call the whimsy police. Fortunately there is someone else on the tree who’d like to make the elf’s acquaintance.

The rumour (the one I am just starting) that they dance together on the tree all night long has yet to be substantiated.

I am quite sure my mum would love to see her village in such a nice setting.