Leggings a ring reforged.

picture with permission from my oldest daughter (all rights reserved S)

“One ring to bind them all...”

Uncle Tolkien and I sat in the lounge discussing the discipline of writing one morning whilst Grandfather took his morning calls in the study for farm business. He always said it was too important for him to miss. “It gives you time to take a lesson, and then we can go for a ride out.”

Uncle Tolkien never went on the ride out. He often discussed styles of writing. His own was so simple that it fled into the brain easily, and that with what was really written about made his novels so buy-able.

I brought out a notebook, to show him my endeavors of the month. My assignment had been to write a little each day on a particularly re-memorable occurrence on whatever the day had offered.

He checked it. An anxious silence. Eventually Uncle Tolkien looked up and laughed at me.

“You're not bad!” He marked an odd spelling mistake. “Still N.B.ing...?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “I can't help it, the mind wants to add things later on.”

“I'm not certain if it helps or not.” he remarked, “Keep it up and you'll be famous for it.”

I took back the precious notebook. “Should I carry on?”

“Yes,” he observed, “A writer's notebook is a special thing.”

He pulled out his own notebook, black and heavy. “This is what I wrote about today,” he said, “About your Grandfather's plans.”

“That's so dressed up.” I replied, “Hey don't...” It was no good, he'd taken his notebook and I had only managed to read a few lines.

Grandfather came in, nodded to Uncle Tolkien, “I've arranged for you to go to Magical School,” he said. “She will have to come and see you in school holidays.”

Uncle Tolkien looked shocked, “Is that wise? Aren't they all a bit mean?”

“Yes,” Grandfather said, “Circe is too gentle it's time she found out how to defend herself.”

“I can look after myself,” I said quickly, “Really I can!”

Grandfather looked down at me, “You're the best!” he said with a wink, “Only in years to come you might have to face them down, and you need to know how...”

I was sent to Magical school, from the train station with a trunk full of clothes and satchel full of books.

My heart was in my black school shoes. I was not to stay there a full term.

….....................................................................................................................

Today 6am, the bitterness resounded – the failure of nastiness brought back to reality. Perhaps they are only wizards and witches in the Magical lands, and if so I urge them to return. It's no life as a petty thief.

They claim that the Admiralty has given them technical advantage! I urge you to return to the Magical Kingdoms where real Magic is used, where you don't need such stuff.

The ring of fire which can be taken to be many things in Norfolk is being reforged, and this time it will include such things as honesty, and equality. No matter where the people in Norfolk come from.

N.B.   Can someone call the Magical world to ask for an adjudicator?  

Is this an unfair use of technology this online notebook?