side of the clearing.
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, anxious that the nutter had heard me calling him a nutter and was going to turn me into a pine cone or some other plant related forest fodder. “I was just mumbling to myself.”
“Did I hear you say that you thought this was an enchanted forest?”
“Well, yes,” I admitted, merely glad at the element of my sentence on which he had chosen to focus. And then something entirely unexpected happened, Aurelius burst into a second fit of laughter.
“Ha ha ha. Hee hee. Ho. Ho. Oooh. Oh dear! Control yourself. Enchanted forest indeed. That’s a good one! Wherever did you get such a ridiculous idea?”
“But, well,... er, is it not enchanted then?” I asked, utterly bemused as to what my companion was finding so amusing.
“Well of course it’s not enchanted!” Aurelius replied as if this was something that should have been obvious to me.
“My dear boy, let me assure you that there is not now, nor has there ever been, anything enchanted about Hanselwood Forest. Indeed, one would find it difficult to imagine a more unremarkably average forest than Hanselwood. Its trees, its grasses, its wildlife, all are decidedly common and can be found in abundance in a million other forests across the land. Its inhabitants are, of course, a different matter. Many of them are both enchanted and enchanting, but I am afraid that their home is decidedly ordinary.”
“So, why do so many magical creatures choose to live here then?”
“Hmmm,” pondered Aurelius, as though such a question had never before occurred to him. “I’m not sure really. Proximity to Tesco perhaps?”
“What?”
“Pardon, young man. I believe you meant to say pardon.”
“Proximity to Tesco?” I continued, ignoring his Aurelius’s advice on the correct use of English, which I did not consider to be of great import at this particular moment. “You can’t be serious. Why would that matter to a magical creature?”
“Well, we can’t all live on berries all the time can we, they do become rather dull. Sometimes one acquires an urge for barbecue sauce flavoured chicken wings.”
“But wouldn’t the staff notice if an ogre walked in?”
“Well, in the daytime, perhaps. But the beauty of Tesco is that it is open every hour of every day. If you go in the middle of the night on a Tuesday, most of the people who work there are asleep on their feet and don’t really notice much about anybody. Indeed, compared to some of the humans you find trawling the aisles at 3am in search of a scotch egg, being a little bigger, or even having scales and an extra eye doesn’t seem too unusual.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that every magical creature for miles around has converged on this one forest just to make it a bit easier to get chicken wings, do you? I mean, their must be some other reason surely?”
“Well,” said Aurelius, “first of all, not all magical creatures live in forests. The vast majority prefer to live out normal lives and work in normal jobs. Like your friend Mr Creamy, for example.”
“Mr Creamy is a magical creature?” I asked incredulously, unable to believe there could be anything remarkable about such an ordinary (if forgetful) old man.
“Well of course he is, Charlie! Of course he is! He’s a wizard. How else would he possibly be able to make such delicious ice cream?”
I simply stared at Aurelius in response, once again dumbfounded as to how to argue with such logic, not because I thought it correct, but because it was so obviously incorrect that I didn’t know where to begin my questioning of it.
“As I was saying,” Aurelius continued, “most magical beings choose to live in normal neighbourhoods in the normal world. Indeed, I am quite sure that most of those Alundri who do not live in the human world would choose to do so if they could. Not all magical creatures are blessed with such inconspicuous appearance however. For the ogres, and the
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, anxious that the nutter had heard me calling him a nutter and was going to turn me into a pine cone or some other plant related forest fodder. “I was just mumbling to myself.”
“Did I hear you say that you thought this was an enchanted forest?”
“Well, yes,” I admitted, merely glad at the element of my sentence on which he had chosen to focus. And then something entirely unexpected happened, Aurelius burst into a second fit of laughter.
“Ha ha ha. Hee hee. Ho. Ho. Oooh. Oh dear! Control yourself. Enchanted forest indeed. That’s a good one! Wherever did you get such a ridiculous idea?”
“But, well,... er, is it not enchanted then?” I asked, utterly bemused as to what my companion was finding so amusing.
“Well of course it’s not enchanted!” Aurelius replied as if this was something that should have been obvious to me.
“My dear boy, let me assure you that there is not now, nor has there ever been, anything enchanted about Hanselwood Forest. Indeed, one would find it difficult to imagine a more unremarkably average forest than Hanselwood. Its trees, its grasses, its wildlife, all are decidedly common and can be found in abundance in a million other forests across the land. Its inhabitants are, of course, a different matter. Many of them are both enchanted and enchanting, but I am afraid that their home is decidedly ordinary.”
“So, why do so many magical creatures choose to live here then?”
“Hmmm,” pondered Aurelius, as though such a question had never before occurred to him. “I’m not sure really. Proximity to Tesco perhaps?”
“What?”
“Pardon, young man. I believe you meant to say pardon.”
“Proximity to Tesco?” I continued, ignoring his Aurelius’s advice on the correct use of English, which I did not consider to be of great import at this particular moment. “You can’t be serious. Why would that matter to a magical creature?”
“Well, we can’t all live on berries all the time can we, they do become rather dull. Sometimes one acquires an urge for barbecue sauce flavoured chicken wings.”
“But wouldn’t the staff notice if an ogre walked in?”
“Well, in the daytime, perhaps. But the beauty of Tesco is that it is open every hour of every day. If you go in the middle of the night on a Tuesday, most of the people who work there are asleep on their feet and don’t really notice much about anybody. Indeed, compared to some of the humans you find trawling the aisles at 3am in search of a scotch egg, being a little bigger, or even having scales and an extra eye doesn’t seem too unusual.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that every magical creature for miles around has converged on this one forest just to make it a bit easier to get chicken wings, do you? I mean, their must be some other reason surely?”
“Well,” said Aurelius, “first of all, not all magical creatures live in forests. The vast majority prefer to live out normal lives and work in normal jobs. Like your friend Mr Creamy, for example.”
“Mr Creamy is a magical creature?” I asked incredulously, unable to believe there could be anything remarkable about such an ordinary (if forgetful) old man.
“Well of course he is, Charlie! Of course he is! He’s a wizard. How else would he possibly be able to make such delicious ice cream?”
I simply stared at Aurelius in response, once again dumbfounded as to how to argue with such logic, not because I thought it correct, but because it was so obviously incorrect that I didn’t know where to begin my questioning of it.
“As I was saying,” Aurelius continued, “most magical beings choose to live in normal neighbourhoods in the normal world. Indeed, I am quite sure that most of those Alundri who do not live in the human world would choose to do so if they could. Not all magical creatures are blessed with such inconspicuous appearance however. For the ogres, and the
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