If you could pick any fictional animal to be your lifelong companion (like a Pokémon or fantasy pet), what would it be?
Many years ago I mentioned Mr Tumnus to my friend when we were talking about children’s books. She looked delighted.
“Ooh yes! James McAvoy Mr Tumnus?” She asked with a wink.
“Er no. I just want to go to his house for tea.”
She looked mortified and I couldn’t stop laughing. I’ve never had sexual feelings for Mr Tumnus but he is the fictional creature I’d want to hang out with. In my copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe the illustration of Mr Tumnus by the lamp is one of the most magical scenes in literature. In fact a couple of years ago a local stately home decorated one of their rooms with a fir tree forest. You walked through a door and into the smell of pine and sounds of a forest, snow on the ground and a lamp. Then at the back of the room was one lone tree with a star on top. It really did create that childish magic.
My mum bought me a painting of Mr Tumnus for Christmas and he’s perfect. He’s wearing a velvet frock coat and his very long scarf, exactly as I imagine him. We share a love of cosy homes with roaring fires, afternoon tea and books. I could imagine whiling away many hours chatting and eating crumpets, reading in the quiet of the afternoon and having a little nap after tea. I thought about this a lot when I built a friendship with my lovely friend Nigel, now sadly gone. He made contact with my then husband as part of a disability network that wanted to expand. I didn’t expect to be part of the conversation because it was meant to be business, but we just clicked the minute he walked through the door.
Nigel was an older gentleman who had sustained a spinal injury and while able to walk on crutches he did struggle with pain and other symptoms. I loved his sprawling Victorian house with its tiled floors and amazing antique furniture. He was an antique dealer and the house was a treasure hoard of art and stunning glass pieces that were lit up on glass shelving throwing rainbows around the room. There was barely an inch of wall uncovered and with antique mirrors bathing everything in a soft light it was a beautiful place to relax. He wore smoking jackets adorned with brooches and had blond very curly hair that could have been hiding a faun’s antlers. Time passed differently with Nigel as he plied me with the ‘good’ coffee, cream cakes and gossipy stories of people in town. He was the GOAT in the gay community and an absolute magnet for young gay men in a town that seemed years behind the rest of the country in terms of diversity. I often found someone sat in the big wingback chair listening to his advice. There were clocks in the house too, everything from cuckoo clocks and grandfather clocks and everything in between. The ticking and soft chiming every half hour was so meditative I used to fall asleep, as cosy as if I was with Mr Tumnus having tea.
For one of Amanda Clarke’s prints go to Etsy.
The Lotus Readers 