The Whistling Butler – Splashes of Ink

Summer Wind

– with prologue –

by Michael Bobb

Prologue

"As the butler turned to go
after leaving the pressed morning edition
on the platter beside the bureau
I asked him to prepare afternoon tea

'Certainly,' he replies
'But the clock hasn't struck 11, sir'

'It's Midsummer’s day
and Madam and I,' I explain
'will be having afternoon tea
at the coastal house'

-

After an hour
everything is ready
and we begin to make our way

As we leave the grounds
I hear the characteristic buzz and snap
of the motorised electric gate behind us

I look in the rear-view mirror
and see the butler’s Bentley
I also see the housekeeper on the doorstep
waving us farewell with a handkerchief

As we turn onto the main side road
I ask Madam
who is checking her make-up
on the back seat of our Bentley
to check with the butler
via the two-way communication system
if he had remembered the vinyl records

He replies, 'Yes Madam'

Summer Wind

"...As the time reaches two and twenty past
both Bentleys arrive at the coastal house

The standard is raised
and the butler unpacks both cars
...including the music

'It's a beautiful day, darling
let's have tea
at the water’s edge'
Madam says

'How romantic'
I say

So, after removing our footwear
we carry two chairs and a table down the beach

After setting up next to some rocks
the butler serves us
then retires to a distance

I raise my voice and say to the butler 
'Can you bring the record player from the house
and play some music?'

'Yes sir'

He fetches the player
and puts a record on the turntable
Quite calmly he presses... play

The music begins to play

The raised standard once still
begins flapping softly on the mast

Madam stands up
and starts tiptoeing backwards
just as she learned in dance classes
at finishing school 

I stand up
turn to her
and start stepping backwards slowly
in true dramatic style

Madam changes direction
and starts tiptoeing towards me

As the music changes
she breaks into a run

And with a leap
she jumps into my arms

I catch her
We embrace sweetly in circular movements
Round and round and round

By now the music has become expressive
Expressive, pulsating and undulating 

Although it is Midsummer’s Day
the clouds are gathering
and the wind is picking up

There are now white pony surfs
but soon they will be white horses

And what of the tide?
Yes, it's advancing
and quicker, too
as if the moon’s orbit
was being quickened
by the accelerating music

Then
there is a seventh wave
in time with the orchestra’s down bow
and the table and chairs topple over

But we keep with our
ever expressive dance

As the milk and profiteroles
fall to the ground
there is a greater smash of waves
onto the coastal rocks
just as the music reaches a tutti

The water is now rushing our shins
and the
wind whistles wildly...

We part briefly
And, just like ballerinas
raise both arms to form an arch
and pirouette

The music is now at its height

We both grasp each other's left forearm
with our own left hand
Right arms still arched in the air

We then look straight and deep 
into one another's eyes
and begin an ever-increasing spin

As we spin faster and faster
and look deeper and deeper
into each other’s eyes
we are unaware of the tornado
we have created
Or, rather, not us but the music

We are focused 100% on each other
We are the centre of the whirlwind
Everything else is a blur

...Standard flapping vigorously
...Cream cakes pulverised
...Waves pounding rock
...Perfuse perspiration plies

Then, out of nowhere
a white bird descends
down the eye of the whirlwind
and lands calmly on our joined forearms

Our eyes once locked on one another
then looks at the bird
the pure white bird

The moment we do this
the music becomes softer
and our rotation slows down

The whirlwind dissipates

The butler then approaches and says

'More tea, sir?'”