Mary Mary, Mary and Mary were discussing their dreams under an apple tree in the summer orchard<\/p>\n
They were each wearing a yellow cotton dress with a lime sash gathered at the waist<\/p>\n
Above them a red-winged tropical bird sat on the lowest branch listening to the sisters<\/p>\n
I dreamt last night that I worked for a major company and that an important customer was coming to see us<\/i><\/p>\n
The only problem was that only I knew of this so I decided to visit them by bus but I did not know where they were located so I asked the bus conductor who resembled my school caretaker<\/i><\/p>\n
He did not know so I began to look out for Spindley & Spindley as we passed through each town <\/i><\/p>\n
As we drove through the outskirts of the final town I saw a naked women trimming a privet hedge which was strange as no-one else noticed her nudity <\/i><\/p>\n
The town itself turned out to be a coastal resort with a large curved beach and was bathed in a peculiar light <\/i><\/p>\n
I decided to alight from the bus but found myself on the hills above the town near the dry estuary<\/i><\/p>\n
As I stumbled down an unmade path I discovered that I had left my mobile phone on the bus which troubled me as I was not carrying a purse or a wallet <\/i><\/p>\n
Neat the base of the hill there were a number of abandoned huts which had been used to house prisoners of war a number of years ago and still retained the faded graffiti of those times <\/i><\/p>\n
I found myself on level ground pockmarked with puddles where two Negro\u2019s were building a model railway for the mayor of the town<\/i><\/p>\n
They did not smile when I greeted them <\/i><\/p>\n
Soon I reached the beach but as I stepped on to the sands the day went dark and when I looked up into the sky I could see the sun and the moon together<\/i><\/p>\n
The people on the beach did not seem aware of this and continued their recreation <\/i><\/p>\n
I walked towards the promenade and when I reached the steps I asked the first person I met the name of the town<\/i><\/p>\n
He did not know its name but said that the town thought itself to be a city<\/i><\/p>\n
Knowing that I would be unlikely to find Spindley & Spindley I decided to walk home in the rough direction of the owl’s nest
\n<\/i><\/p>\n
In a shot while I became hopelessly lost and became worried about my missing mobile phone and the wallet that I had not brought with me <\/i><\/p>\n
I knew that I would have to cancel my cards even though my wallet was safely locked away in my house<\/i><\/p>\n
An hour or so later I met a friend in a car and I asked him to drive me home<\/i><\/p>\n
He said he would but he was visiting friends who lived in a house with fine views of the sea<\/i><\/p>\n
We soon reached the memorable house and the door was opened by the albino daughter who directed us to a ramshackle caravan which was parked in the huge kitchen <\/i><\/p>\n
We were told that the house was being renovated and that the family had borrowed a caravan whilst the work was taking place <\/i><\/p>\n
As we ate a meal the caravan started shaking and when I looked out of the window I noticed that we travelling on a road <\/i><\/p>\n
Very soon the caravan became stuck in a traffic jam and the albino daughter said that she hoped that the owners would not be late for their dinner-date<\/i><\/p>\n
What happened then? <\/i><\/p>\n
I woke up<\/i><\/p>\n
What was your dream?<\/i><\/p>\n
It was only a short dream and not as exciting as yours or I suspect my other sisters <\/i><\/p>\n
Do tell <\/i><\/p>\n
My dream was called The Head of Sedicast <\/i><\/p>\n
I dreamt that I had tickets for the theatre but when I arrived the theatre was closed <\/i><\/p>\n
What did you do? <\/i><\/p>\n
I broke into the theatre and acted all the parts myself which was difficult as there were many battle scenes <\/i><\/p>\n
How did the play end? <\/i><\/p>\n
As most Jacobean plays do with most of the characters dead on the stage <\/i><\/p>\n
And that was all I was laying on the stage covered in fake blood the victim of the fair Roseanna <\/i><\/p>\n
Did you dream Mary Mary? <\/i><\/p>\n
My dream was even shorter than yours but it was such a vivid dream <\/i><\/p>\n
I was in London and you know how busy London is<\/i><\/p>\n
Well I was with my darling sisters and were looking forward to visiting the bookshops in the Charing Cross Road <\/i><\/p>\n
All was going to plan and I could see the shops in the distance when we occasioned on an inn which was called The Mists that Surround the Lighthouse <\/i><\/p>\n
As we were all thirsty after our adventure I suggested that we took refreshment <\/i><\/p>\n
We had been sitting there for about ten minutes when a heavy mist drew in and the most magical light was to be seen <\/i><\/p>\n
I wanted to capture this on film so I borrowed the camera of a sweet German visitor <\/i><\/p>\n
What happened then? <\/i><\/p>\n
Nothing do you not remember you sat on me and woke me up <\/i><\/p>\n
If I had known that then I would have not sat on you <\/i><\/p>\n
The sisters stood up and looked at the red-winged tropical bird which was sitting on the branch watching and listening<\/p>\n
Do you ever dream bird?<\/i><\/p>\n
If you tell us of your dreams then your will rewarded with a lime sash <\/i><\/p>\n
I never dream <\/i><\/p>\n
Have you ever dreamt?<\/i><\/p>\n
Only once <\/i><\/p>\n
What was your dream? <\/i><\/p>\n
I dreamt that I was sitting on the lowest branch of an apple tree listening to three sisters discussing their dreams <\/i><\/p>\n
Be serious bird or you will not be rewarded with our sashes and maybe a kiss from each of us <\/i><\/p>\n
I did dream but it was troubled dream <\/i><\/p>\n
I dreamt that I was sitting on this branch in the spring with beautiful pink blossoms surrounding me when suddenly a nearby tree was ruined by the shot of a hunter <\/i><\/p>\n
The violence drew closer until the hunter with his fearsome shotgun faced me <\/i><\/p>\n
Why did you not fly bird?<\/i><\/p>\n
Because I was petrified <\/i><\/p>\n
The hunter looked at me raised his shotgun and took aim <\/i><\/p>\n
I closed my eyes and awaited my end but nothing happened and when I opened them again I saw the hunter throw his shotgun into the deep flowing river <\/i><\/p>\n
I have no quarrel with you bird it is just that I hate the colour red<\/i><\/p>\n
I thought quickly and told the hunter that I was actually a green bird and he was colour blind <\/i><\/p>\n
What happened then? <\/i><\/p>\n
He took an aged book from his rough leather satchel and tore out a page and then tore the page in half again and handed it to me <\/i><\/p>\n
Did you read it? <\/i><\/p>\n
Yes<\/i><\/p>\n
What was the story?<\/i><\/p>\n
The torn page was from The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon Esq by William Makepeace Thackeray<\/i><\/p>\n
Do you still have it?<\/i><\/p>\n
No a magpie stole it from me <\/i><\/p>\n
Can you remember it?<\/i><\/p>\n
Yes every word <\/i><\/p>\n
Then please tell it to the Mary\u2019s without abbreviation<\/i><\/p>\n
The red-winged tropical bird stiffened and began the story as the sisters sat in a semi-circle beneath him<\/p>\n
Mr. Barry Lyndon\u2019s personal narrative finishes here for the hand of death interrupted the ingenious author soon after the period at which the memoir was compiled; after he had lived for nineteen years an inmate of the Fleet Prison, where the prison records state that he died of delirium tremens. His mother attained an prodigious old age, and the inhabitants of the place in her time can record with accuracy the daily disputes which used to take place between mother and son; until the latter, from habits of intoxication, falling into a state of almost imbecility, was tended by his tough old parent as a baby almost and would cry if deprived of his necessary glass of brandy.<\/i><\/p>\n
The red-winged tropical bird felt its eyes moisten but inhibited his tears<\/p>\n
His life on the continent we have not the means of following accurately; but he appears to have resumed his former profession of a gambler, without his former success. <\/i><\/p>\n
He returned secretly to England, after some time and made an abortive attempt to exhort money from Lord George Poynings, under the threat of publishing his correspondence with Lady Lyndon; and so prevent his lordships match with Miss Driver a great heiress of of strict principles and an immense property in slaves in the West Indies. Barry narrowly escaped being taken prisoner by the bailiffs who were dispatched by his lordship <\/i><\/p>\n
The sisters looked at the bird who had stopped recounting his dream<\/p>\n
Tear was dropping from its eyes onto the sisters yellow dresses and staining them momentarily<\/p>\n
Each of the Mary\u2019s then removed their lime sash and hung them on the branch next to the red-winged tropical bird<\/p>\n
Why do you weep bird?<\/i><\/p>\n
I always weep when I recount this passage which is strange as birds of my species are not normally emotional<\/i><\/p>\n
What is your real name bird?<\/i><\/p>\n
I do not have a name<\/i><\/p>\n
All birds have a name<\/i><\/p>\n
You are indeed correct <\/i><\/p>\n
What is your name?<\/i><\/p>\n
Is it Barry Lyndon and that is the reason you weep?<\/i><\/p>\n
It is Barry Lyndon <\/i><\/p>\n
Why do you hide your identity?<\/i><\/p>\n
I do not want to return to prison as I know what fate awaits me <\/i><\/p>\n
It is only a story, a very good story, but only a story<\/i><\/p>\n
There was a shout from the Basilica above the orchard<\/p>\n
Oh bird, the shouts are from our parents I fear that they will think us lost<\/i><\/p>\n
Then go sisters you have taught me much I will no longer fly haunted by my past I will fly with freedom \u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Please take your sashes and reward me with a kiss<\/i><\/p>\n
Each of the Mary\u2019s kissed Barry Lyndon and scrambled up the steep slope to where their parents were waiting for them<\/p>\n
Barry Lyndon waited for the sisters to vanish into the day and took a plain piece of paper from beneath his wing and began to pen his latest note of blackmail<\/p>\n
One of the sisters had forgotten her sash and Barry looked at it after he had finished his note and considered the fine price it would fetch at market<\/p>\n
It had indeed been a good day\u00a0 \u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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\u00a0\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Mary Mary, Mary and Mary were discussing their dreams under an apple tree in the summer orchard They were each wearing a yellow cotton dress with a lime sash gathered at the waist Above them a red-winged tropical bird sat on the lowest branch listening to the sisters I dreamt last night that I worked […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1480"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1480"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1480\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1480"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1480"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1480"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}