'A Letter from Honeysuckle Harebell' ~ 8th August 1908

Honeysuckle Harebell
Oct 31
4 min read

An old American Typewriter on an Edwardian desk. With a cup of tea and a letter.. — **A Letter from Honeysuckle Harebell**

Dear Millicent,

Hope you are well etc etc. I'm sorry I haven’t written for positively ages but I've had an epiphany. I thought I’d tell you all about it, as I know you don’t get out much and your life is quite, minimal, at the moment, shall we say.

an advert circa 1908 for the new safety bicycle . Enen women can ride it. — **My New Fangled Bicycle**

Well, it all started on one of those drizzly, depressing Wednesday afternoons and I had cycled, on my new Safety Bicycle, over to the village shop in search of some Fisherman’s Friends.

My over exuberance the night before at choir practice had completely worn out my chords. I had hardly managed to dismount and untangle myself from the contraption, when Miss. Peaseblossom accosted me, catching me completely unawares.

watercolour illustration of old woman in Edwardian black dress. Her hair is in a bun . She has her hands behind her back. She looks harsh and dour. — **Miss Peaseblossom**

"Miss Honeysuckle Harebell, I want a word with you."

As you know, Miss Peaseblossom is the sort of person who doesn't take no for an answer. She insisted I attend the talk she was giving that evening for the local Hysterical Society. Well, I could hardly say no. I mean, literally, I couldn't utter a word on account of my dysphonia. So I nodded my acceptance and smiled the smile of someone who was disappointed they were going to miss their supper of carefully prepared Haddock.

How is prison by the way? I meant to ask but I know it's a touchy subject. Please tell me you’ve started eating again? Hats off Millicent. You are doing such a laudable thing . Women everywhere will thank you one day. Sorry I mentioned the Haddock.

I digress, so that evening I went along to the Village Hall and at 7 o'clock sharp Miss. Peaseblossom began her talk. It included, (let it never be said the Hysterical Society haven't moved with the times) a Magic Lantern Presentation ! There were various picture slides of - what I can only describe as - shrubbery.

Watercolour illustration of a Magic Lantern — **Magic Lantern**

I don't think the Magic Lantern will catch on . Maybe in someone else's hands it would have been more - magical?

" What do you see?" demanded Miss. Peaseblossom.

" Is it where the Fairies live ?" offered up Old Bob the Butcher.

" No, it certainly is not!" retorted Miss. Peasblossom, "It's a bush and there's nothing magical or 'airy fairy' about it."

Watercolour illustration of three scones on an old plate — **Miss. Pratts' Unsavoury Scones**

Now, I can appreciate the beauty of a Magnolia Grandiflora as much as the next person, but I'm afraid I was deeply disappointed. I presumed the talk would shed light on the disappearance of the Vicars' cat or the reason for the local Bobby at number 7, but no, nothing like that. The talk, lasted two hours and 38 minutes, including refreshments - Miss. Pratts' scones again- oh dear!

The theme of the talk was "The Dispelling of Magic." Or was it the mis-spelling of magic? I forget.

Miss Peaseblossom said she felt it her duty to denounce any 'hunkum bunkem' in the village. To whit, she would expose 'fake magic' and said her talk would clear the matter up once and for all.

Parish Councellor Shutterworth did stand up at one point to defend the existence of 'Imps' - claiming to have had several 'run ins' with them in his wine cellar, but then he dropped his drink and was ushered out by the Curate.

Watercolour illustration of emptybgreenbwine nottle — **One Green Bottle**

Miss. Peaseblossom concluded, by asking the three of us who remained.

“Who believes in Fairies now ?”

You could hear a pin drop. No one dared speak. I continued to suck hard on my lozenge.

“Very good." she said, closing the Magic Lantern. " Thank you for your attention to this matter.” And that was that.

I felt I had to go over to her afterwards to say something, if only to question her use of the Lantern. She replied, rather rudely I thought, that she couldn't hear a word I was saying.

When I returned home I was full of conflicted emotions. Could she be right? Is magic obsolete? Is imagination best left out of it? Should I be gargling?

I started to wonder. I couldn't sleep with wondering. So, after gargling with some Chamomile and honey tea, I decided to do some delving or ‘Elving’ as I call it ( just a little joke of mine, I know Fairies are very different from Elves). And that is when I had my 'epiphany'!

I had to prove Miss. Peaseblossom wrong. It isn't a personal thing, I hasten to add, but we can’t have people telling us there is no place for a bit of magic in our lives. I felt I have to make a stand, in my own little way. Not as admirable as you are doing for Women’s Votes Millicent. But I've taken a leaf from your book- Deeds not words!

watercolour illustration of a table with a pile of three books, a candle burning, a cup of tea, an open book and a packet of Fishermans Friend circa 1900's — **Elving**

So after many months (well certainly several weekends) undergoing extensive research, I've been writing a series of pamphlets with a 'magical' content and I don't care what Miss. Peaseblossom thinks! I shall send you one to pass the time. Tempus will Fugit Millicent, believe me. Stay strong.

My artichokes are calling, will keep you posted.

Best wishes

Honeysuckle Harebell

p.s. Chin up.

p.p.s. Still looking for the cat.

Authors note -