The Storyteller's New Coat
The storyteller dreamt of a new coat. He dreamt of that coat so many times he
convinced himself that he could not tell stories without it. In fact he simply could not live without one.
So he began to search for it. Day and night, far and wide. He searched so hard that he forgot to tell the wonderful stories that he knew, in time he lost the skill, He had forgotten how to sit by a roaring fire and how to say those magic words:
"Once upon a time"
Then one day, while he was wandering the road’s of Ireland, he found it, the perfect coat. And my, was it perfect?
The collar was perfect. The buttons were perfect. The pockets couldn’t be more perfect! It was a perfect coat. It would be perfect for telling his stories in!
The storyteller bought it there and then, he placed it on is back and admired himself in the mirror. He put the collar up, he put the collar down. He put his hands in the pockets; he took his hands out of the pockets. It was perfect!
It was then the storyteller realised that to be a perfect storyteller, he would have to have new boots. How could he perform the perfect story in the perfect new coat and still wear his worn out old shoes.
So again he searched, and again he forgot to tell his wonderful stories.
Well he searched in Belfast, Ballina and Bantry. He searched in Castlebar, Cork and Charlestown, Tipperary and Tralee. He searched in Limerick, Galway and Mayo! But it was on the Clare Island that he found the perfect boots.
And my, were they perfect? He bought them there and then. He stamped up and down in them he marched like a soldier and danced like a cowboy......Yee Haa.....They were perfect, the most perfect pair of boots the storyteller had ever worn.
And the storyteller stood in front of the mirror, he admired his perfect new boots, he admired his perfect new coat and he was just about to go and tell his stories when he realised that to be a PERFECT storyteller, he would have to have a new hat.
How could he perform in the perfect new coat and the perfect new boots without a perfect new hat? So again he searched for the hat. Forgetting to tell his stories. All the hats he tried were no good. They were all too ordinary, too fancy, too dull or too plain, but then on a market stall in Westport he found it. The perfect hat. Tall and thin, black silk that gently caught the breeze, with a Peacocks feather in the side.
Well he bought it there and then and placed it on his head and looked as fine as any Storyteller who could possibly tell a tale.
And the storyteller looked at himself in the mirror, admired his perfect new hat, his perfect new boots, his perfect new coat and he readied himself to go!
It was then that the storyteller realised he had forgotten all of his stories. So obsessed had he become with finding the perfect new coat, the perfect new boots, the perfect new hat, that he had forgotten all his stories, every single one, every single line, every word. He was a storyteller without a tale!
In the autumn the storyteller sold his new coat to pay for food for his belly.
In the winter the storyteller sold his new boots to pay for wood for his fire.
In the spring the storyteller sold his new hat to buy a new book of tales.
And in the summer the storyteller began to tell again!
So he began to search for it. Day and night, far and wide. He searched so hard that he forgot to tell the wonderful stories that he knew, in time he lost the skill, He had forgotten how to sit by a roaring fire and how to say those magic words:
"Once upon a time"
Then one day, while he was wandering the road’s of Ireland, he found it, the perfect coat. And my, was it perfect?
The collar was perfect. The buttons were perfect. The pockets couldn’t be more perfect! It was a perfect coat. It would be perfect for telling his stories in!
The storyteller bought it there and then, he placed it on is back and admired himself in the mirror. He put the collar up, he put the collar down. He put his hands in the pockets; he took his hands out of the pockets. It was perfect!
It was then the storyteller realised that to be a perfect storyteller, he would have to have new boots. How could he perform the perfect story in the perfect new coat and still wear his worn out old shoes.
So again he searched, and again he forgot to tell his wonderful stories.
Well he searched in Belfast, Ballina and Bantry. He searched in Castlebar, Cork and Charlestown, Tipperary and Tralee. He searched in Limerick, Galway and Mayo! But it was on the Clare Island that he found the perfect boots.
And my, were they perfect? He bought them there and then. He stamped up and down in them he marched like a soldier and danced like a cowboy......Yee Haa.....They were perfect, the most perfect pair of boots the storyteller had ever worn.
And the storyteller stood in front of the mirror, he admired his perfect new boots, he admired his perfect new coat and he was just about to go and tell his stories when he realised that to be a PERFECT storyteller, he would have to have a new hat.
How could he perform in the perfect new coat and the perfect new boots without a perfect new hat? So again he searched for the hat. Forgetting to tell his stories. All the hats he tried were no good. They were all too ordinary, too fancy, too dull or too plain, but then on a market stall in Westport he found it. The perfect hat. Tall and thin, black silk that gently caught the breeze, with a Peacocks feather in the side.
Well he bought it there and then and placed it on his head and looked as fine as any Storyteller who could possibly tell a tale.
And the storyteller looked at himself in the mirror, admired his perfect new hat, his perfect new boots, his perfect new coat and he readied himself to go!
It was then that the storyteller realised he had forgotten all of his stories. So obsessed had he become with finding the perfect new coat, the perfect new boots, the perfect new hat, that he had forgotten all his stories, every single one, every single line, every word. He was a storyteller without a tale!
In the autumn the storyteller sold his new coat to pay for food for his belly.
In the winter the storyteller sold his new boots to pay for wood for his fire.
In the spring the storyteller sold his new hat to buy a new book of tales.
And in the summer the storyteller began to tell again!
So remember, Work with what you have or you may not
work at all!
Very good to see you blogging again. Thanks for the new tales.
ReplyDeleteHi Mak,
DeleteGood to hear from you too. I've been a bit busy of late but hopefully I will find time to keep writing on things that may be of interest. Keep smiling :)
Silentowl.