Christmas Day

Lovely Christmas Day under the cat's eye at Fluffs house. Lots of Blueberry wine and party games.
All went well until I tried to takes Fluff's Photo;  they are very quick these tiny things!
Merry Christmas all!

Tiny

Cats eyes

I got into a very interesting conversation with Ginge, the Furzey cat.  I found him sleeping in the sun under a large oak tree, and made the throw away remark of it being all right for some. Ginge replied that  he had spent a fortnight working, when he was a kitten and that was quite enough for him!
Thinking Ginge was pulling my leg, I asked him what he had worked at that left him so exhausted.
The cat told me that kittens where employed in early times to operate the cats eyes on the first fairy roads. They would run up and down tunnels built under the tiny roads and when a vehicle approached they would stick there heads up through the road and look through the cats eye. Well, apparently kittens being kittens, this did not last long.  First, balls with bells were pushed about the tunnels, then fluffy mice and finally balls of wool, were chased round and round the tunnels. The kittens ended up having to be cut free by fairies with scissors and the project failed.

A group of tiny things agreed to taking over the duty of manning the cats eyes, but only on the Trans New Forest Road and they cut the cats eyes down to four.  I enclose a photo of the over-grown lane as it is today, with its last little cats eye.
I visited this quiet place today and knocked on the rubber top as Ginge had instructed me.
To my surprise, the top opened and revealed a tiny thing called Fluff. 'Come in!' she said.

Following Fluff down the little ladder, (with a bit of magic), the chill of the damp day was driven back up the ladder shaft, to be replaced by such a warm feeling.  I stepped into a magic room where a fire burned in the hearth and the smells of pine and roses wrapped themselves around my cold body.
Fluff was the last Cats Eyes Keeper and still listens for approaching traffic. Should it appear up her ladder she goes and shines her little light for all to see.

I got on so well with Fluff; she told me many tales and of her little shop, 'Fluffs Stuff', a very important place for all tiny things. After several glasses of blueberry wine, I felt I should be going, and as I was climbing the ladder, my hopes were answered when Fluff asked if I would like to come to her home for Christmas.
She said a few tiny things were coming to her little home.  Joy! Joy! but how did she know I was on my own for that most loverly time of the year?
Merry Christmas!
Tiny

That's Not A Bridge, This Is A Bridge!

Now that December is here, my thoughts turn to friends near and far. With the soaring cost of stamps I am not sending as many Christmas cards.  A tiny postman (or woman, I am not sure), Trudy, will be busy delivering messages.

Last year I offered to help Trudy with the parcels, as the snow was quite deep.
Trudy is a vole with a very rusty bike.

Trudy had to be careful of the bridge as it got older

 She, like most tiny things, is not paid for her work, but all tiny things just seem to know their roll in life. Knowing how hard Trudy works at Christmas time, I made the mistake of asking what she would do when she could not manage this work. The little vole looked up with tears in her eyes; 'but I wouldn't be Trudy!' she replied. Trudy tried to explain that for tiny things it was all or nothing. I was then told another tiny tale;  apparently, there was a tiny thing who lived in the woods above Brook. This little thing ran a hospital where he cared for all the little birds that had been pushed out of nests by baby cuckoo chicks. He collected them up in a little cart, kissing them when they cried. He gently pushed them back to his home where he cared for them until they could fly. This little thing never judged the cuckoo chicks, the mother cuckoo or the duped mother bird. He just put his little head down and did his best.
Well, one day the log he used to cross the stream, was washed away in a storm and the tiny thing could not cross the water. He had built his home far from the cuckoos haunt, and logic would suggest it was time to move to the other side of the stream. But 'no!' said Trudy. The tiny thing might not be himself if he moved. He might decide not to care for the little orphan birds if he was in another home. All the tiny things knew that he would rather swim with the fluffy babies than change. So they rallied together and built him a wonderful bridge for him to cross ragging winter torrents and laughing summer trickles.  I followed Trudy on her bike today to see this wonderful site.  It stands on columns of the most magic acorns. They balance, supported by love and tradition. When I went to see it I had no idea I was about to see the 'third wonder' of the tiny world.  Long may the balance continue.

Regards,
Tiny

Tiny Tours

I went to find Hubert the snail this morning, to ask him all about the mechanical bird.  I found him eating a bus ticket with one of his brothers. When I mentioned a mechanical bird they both stared at me with a blank expression, but when I added, 'Tiny Tours', well, I thought they would both die of laughter! I don't know if any of you have ever seen a snail laugh, but let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight!
Their skin wobbles up and down and in and out of their shell; bubbles of slime pop from their mouths and in this case, bits of regurgitated bus ticket flowed like larva onto the ground. Finally when the slimy tears had cleared from Hubert's eyes, he told me a very funny tale...
Lady Daphney was a tiny thing with vast wealth. Apparently she felt it quite unbecoming to fly under her own steam and thought it her duty to convert the 'tiny world' to this way of thinking. What caused this thinking was an incident that occurred when she was a young thing;  an elf had looked up her skirt while she flew over head. This little elf was a dab hand with a pencil and managed to immortalise this moment with a sketch. It was hung for a short time behind a radiator in the art gallery at Furzey.  Lady Daphney had the picture stolen by a gang of cut-throat lady birds, and a turf war broke out between elf and lady birds. That awful time ended with the re-seeding of the main lawn.  Lady Daphney then offered a ten thousand shiny things reward for any clever tiny thing that could build a flying machine, and low and behold, Teddy dragonfly stepped into the breach. He had studied the giant flying machines of the human world and had designed a similar thing.

The shape, Hubert admitted, was magnificent;  built out of twigs, moss and spiders webs, but when Teddy started stealing birds feathers, Hubert could see the project going a little awry.
Teddy, you see had a simple approach -  if it looked the part, it would work. His reasoning was thus:
1.   If it resembled the shape of the human craft, that's a start.
2.   If it had feathers, it would fly...... Bingo!
Only it did not!  Teddy had to know more about the workings of human machines.  He flew many days to a little airport called Hurn and observed the comings and goings of the giant metal craft.  He managed to hide on the human craft and watched flaps being opened in the sides of these craft.  What he saw within, filled him with dread;  the machines were full of fearful cogs, pipes, wires and lights.  None of this he understood.  He was in a scrape now, but in Teddy style, he decided that if he could find similar looking tiny things and fit them in his bird, all would be well.

Teddy borrowed, stole and made all manor of complicated things and threw them in the bird.
As the mess became bigger he became more confident, until, on a Spring day, he announced 'Tiny Tours' were ready for business.
Tiny tours made 8 flights in all.
The first was a publicity flight around Minstead and Emery Down.
The forty 'tiny things' that boarded where so excited that little did they know it was 'tiny excitement' that kept the bird in the sky!

I am so glad the tiny things from furzey gardens aren't going to chelsea flower show in this

Subsequent flights were all kept in the air by varying levels of enthusiasm, (little things buzz when exited).
But the last flight was full of very depressed and hung-over stag beetles, returning to Holly Hatch after a stag night. Their glum faces and fear of their wives wrath brought the little aircraft down with a bump .

The bird flew no more, but it's wreckage is still there, and I went to find it with Hubert.  A very proud 'tiny thing' has made her home in the warm fuselage, and it is lovely to see things not going to waste.

Regards Tiny

2nd Wonder of the Tiny World

I came across this poster;  it was behind a pile of wood in Silly's workshop.
'Wow!' I said.  'What is it? It's truly amazing!'  Silly said that it was awful really, 40 tiny things packed in a mechanical bird.  And being showered with blueberry wine every time they swerved out of the way of an amorous kestrel, or dropping violently into grass, as gangs of sparrows landed on the wings and pecked at the stowaway ants and beetles that hid in the feathers.  Silly had apparently taken this trip with his mother attempting to holiday at the tropical paradise known as Goatee Beach in Totton.
Silly knew nothing of the mechanical birds history, only that it made very few flights before crashing into a hedge near Frogham.
I will ask hubert about this as he seems to know all there is to know about tiny things, and report back.
This surely has to be the second wonder of the tiny world!

regards,
Tiny

Silly Makes a new door

I popped-over to Silly's little workshop to check he had not forgotten Aristotle's new door.
I could do without another up-rising from tiny things!  I was so pleased to find Silly hard at it, even though he had a stinking cold.  I sat with him for a while and he told me such tales, some happy and some very sad.

Apparently, Silly had not always wanted to be a carpenter. When he was very young he travelled with his family many miles to visit the fairy theatres and was lost forever to acting.  He remembers sitting in the grass and watching A Mid-Summers Night Dream.  That magic night was the first time Silly remembers hearing his heart beat, and he knows it beats and waits for him still.  I think this theater maybe another 'wonder' of the Tiny World, so I will try and find it one day.

Anyway, Silly made a good solid door and in the afternoon, Hubert came over in his lorry with some of his brothers to collect it.  I do hope this keeps the tiny things happy.

They are very busy fundraising for the Furzey Gardens Chelsea flower show.  Please do send them something at www.justgiving.com/furzeygardens
Regards
Tiny

Big trouble at Furzey Gardens

What a morning I have had!  Just sitting down to my coffee and a large bowl of coco pops with extra honey, bannana and a tiny bit of crabb apple jelly, when there was a tap on the door. Well, not so much a tap but a scratch.  I opened it up to find Grace the Furzey Robin standing there. 'You must come quick!' she said, 'there's trouble at the gardens!' After breakfast I met grace at Furzey and we made our way to Aristotle's abode to be met with a very angry mob of tiny things all shouting and waving plackards. It seems someone, or something, had broken down Aristotle's door and left his home in an awfull mess. I inspected the poor door and came to the conclusion that this was not the work of vandals, but simply silly Simon, the tiny door maker.  He had used some very dodgy wood that had broken.  When I told the tiny things of my opinion, they went berserk and added silly Simon to the list of things to chastise.  I said I would see 'silly' and get him round to sort out a new door.

the noise at furzey gardens

I left the rabble, determined to nip this in the bud, and got round to Moss Side where 'silly' was working, repairing a wooden bicycle that wooden go.  But as 'silly' came to the door, he spotted the angry rabble of tiny things and shot out the back!  Again, I had to listen to their squeeking and ranting.

You  Furzey Garden fairys won't get to chelsea flower show

I thought it best to find the tiny teacher, Grace the robin, because she might be able to calm them down.  So, I made my way to the school.  No sooner had I arrived than tiny voices were heard. The little things climbed onto the school roof and protested about everything from broken doors and clumsey gardeners to why they could not have tiny motorbikes. Then very nicely Grace pointed out that if the wider world new how naughty they were, they would not be allowed to go to the Chelsea Flower Show.
Hearing this they all stopped their shouting because they had put a lot of work into this and the tiny Queen was planning to meet the Queen of England.
So they all went to a snails house and drank him out of blueberry wine!

http://www.justgiving.com/furzeygardens

Thank goodness that is over -  I have seen tiny war and it's not nice!
Please Please  help the tiny things get to Chelsea Flower show Follow the link to find out more
www.justgiving.com/furzeygardens

It's still there!

Well, what a day!  I took the map, and though it was covered in snail slime which gave it the feeling of wet lamination, I made out the way to go. I walked for what must have been about an hour from the tiny hamlet of Brook in the New Forest, along the little river meeting many a tiny creature as I went.  A little elf named Watson was most interesting, and showed me his collection of fairy cart racing memorabilia.  I had never heard of this, but apparently many tiny things in days gone by, would race each other on their tiny apple carts.  Watson has some lovely photos of the meetings in a wood called Shave Green.  It looked so much fun with brightly coloured carts pulled by mice, dragonflies and all manor of things, while crowds of tiny things cheered and waved flowers.  I asked him why I did not see this in the present time, and he became very defensive and repeated, 'nobody tells an elf what to do!'  When I tried to find out more, he scuttled off.  I must ask Hubert if he know more.
Anyway, keeping an eye on the map and one on the old postcard, I came to a spot that seemed to fit, but there was no sign of a crane. I realised this was a long time ago and the river probably had shifted.

I climbed the bank and grubbed about in the ferns, and 'hay presto!'

Well, it was huge, and apart from the fact that it has fallen over, it looked in very good condition and was a testament to the building skills of tiny things.

In the little control room there was a tiny calendar that was opened at July 1-tee 4-tee.   I am not sure what that means, but there were two lovely photos.

And if you look very hard in the last one, I am sure that's a tiny thing flying from the camera -
they are very fast!

The Promised Postcard

As promised, Hubert turned-up on Saturday with the little postcard.
Surprisingly not in his lorry, but with snail friends and relations strapped under a very scraggy looking crow.  Apparently they were all going to a funeral!
Tiny things attend a lot of funerals. These are not the type that humans attend, but are in fact funerals for ideas.
They are so upset when dreams die, that they just have to remember them.
Hubert said to tell all tinydoors readers to keep their dreams alive!
The postcard shows the tiny things crane loading acorns into the mythical 'Jeanie Deans', often mentioned by BB in his lovely books about the Little Grey Men.

Hubert also had a very slimy map and I will attempt to find any remains of this 'first wonder' of the Tiny World.

seven wonders of the tiny world

I have been thinking about something interesting to report on, in the tiny world and I have just remember something a snail called Hubert once told me. He was delivering acorns in his tiny lorry when I met him.

I was saying how many tragedies seem to have happened to tiny things, when they get involved with crabb apples. Well, Hubert went on to tell me many tales about those early fairy shipping days, including one about an enormous fairy crane. This crane towered over the river and many a tiny thing was involved in its construction and use. Hubert tells me he has a post card of the crane, and when he calls this way again he will let me see it!
I think I shall seek out the mythical 'Seven Wonders' of the tiny world and report on them in this blog.

It will give me something to do until my hair grows back!

they are safe ( I think)

Well, I searched and searched last night, checking the jetting by my lamplight, the tiny clothes still there.

Then, this morning I found a group of hungover snails!  Apparently this is what happened; the snails were having a party on a lilly-pad and all sorts of ruff housing was going on!  

Well, when the little things swam by, the snails persuaded them to come aboard and join the party.
A great time was had till big Eric, a slimmy fellow with a snail eye patch, started drinking blueberry wine.  The day went down hill fast (snails cannot hold there drink)!

Luckily, just then the fairy ferry appeared and the tiny folk travelled to the little terminal, wrapped in

blankets and drinking cocoa.

Trouble on Cadnam River Tiny things Fairies and take care when wild swimming

I knew this would happen, did I not say? but no, they think they know best.

Sorry, let me tell you what I’m talking about.

In the little Cadnam river, which let me tell you, is a quiet little stream without to much trouble or gnomes trying to sell you gnome insurance.

Well, last week I spied it;  Barbara Pike! There she was, as bold as brass lying in10 inches of water eating a Ginsters pasty wrapper.  I shouted, ‘shoo Barbara, shoo!’, but did she listen? No, she just carried on eating the soft pastry.

I had to alert the tiny things.

I went to the tiny notice board and posted this note:

And also put up some tiny signs telling all tiny folk what I had seen.

Well, a few moments ago I saw the most chilling site….  tiny clothes on the wobbly jetty, but no sign of tiny swimmers!

I have spent an hour searching along the banks and calling for tiny helpers, but alas nothing.

After I have eaten my supper, I will return with an oil lamp and carry on my gruesome search.  I will tell you tomorrow if I find anything, but in the meantime all those in shouting distance of the river, please open your windows and doors and shout, ‘Shooo Barbara!’

Regards

Tiny

I have no idea what i am doing

Tiny folk made me do this . They kept on and on so this is it.
When I figure  how you do this whole blogging thing I will get going
Have a look at www.tinydoors.com