Pooh, meditation and minefieldness (with added Vera Lynn and Jimmy Cliff)

 'Pooh, I was wondering -'

'Shhh, Piglet.'

'Sorry?'

'Shhh.'

'Why? What's happening?'

'Let us betake ourselves unto the zone.'

'What zone? Oh, don't tell me someone's slung up an installation right here in -'

'Silence, Piglet. Silence. Tigger says it's essential to mediate. You know, let your mind go plonk.'

'Why should we do that?'

'Words, Piglet. Tigger says that sometimes they can be swords when they should be fraushoes.'

'It's that honey, isn't it? Moment I saw "Produce of Colombia" I just knew--'

'That whereof of which we know whatnot, thereof let us know not it.'

'So…if you don't know something you shouldn't talk about it?'

'Yes.'

'When's that stopped Tigger?'

'For it is written, Piglet: let your yea be yea and your shush be shush.'

'Biblical, is that?'

'Oh, Piglet, Piglet. Jimmy Cliff. 1968. Top tune.'

'I think he might have got it from -'

'He sang about the White Cliffs of Dover, you know. Just like Miss Lynn.'

'I don't think Mr Cliff had quite the same experience of Dover as -'

'Your mind, Piglet, your mind is like unto the sky.'

'What's this "like unto" business?'

'Your thoughts are like clouds, Piglet, having a proper old scud. Happy thoughts. Airy thoughts. Then, all of a sudden, sad thoughts. Not all that very nice thoughts.'

'No, Pooh, that's minefieldness.'

'Not mediation?'

'You mediate between things.'

'Ah. Like the devil and the old brown cow?'

'Deep blue sea, Pooh.'

'Oh, code now, is it? Well, purple sparrow to you.'

'No, it's a saying that -'

'Sorry, Piglet, I'm in the zone. Ow…ow…'

'Oum, Pooh.'

'Ow…cow….'

From The Archives: Rabbit Re-Imaged on National Poetry Day

 'Well, Pooh, it's all go....'

'Really?  I'm sorry I missed it.'

'No, no, Thursday. National Pootling Day.'

'Oh, that, yes.'

'Tigger's been visioning Rabbit.'

'He doesn't want to make a habit of that.'

'It means getting him ready for his poetry launch.'

'Oh, really?'

'Yes. He has a proper poet name and everything.'

'Proper poet name? "Rabbit" not good enough?'

'Well it would have been last year. Tigger says that National Ptomaine Day '15 was all about channelling the edgeland-glade-and-wistful-wood vibe, so "Rabbit" would have done nicely. But as Tigger also says, we were then in the then then but now we're now in the now.'

'He does know he's talking out loud?'

'Yes. Tragically. Anyway, they found a name format that's been lying around for a few months because the previous owner no longer has need of it. Having…you know…'

'Having what?'

'Gone to meet his Mater.'

'Oh…oh, you mean that Mr Bowie.'

'No the other one…the one word--'

'Prance.'

'Yes. Only he stopped being that and became The Artist Formerly Known As Prance.'

'So Rabbit became what?'

'The Poet Formerly Known As Rabbit.'

'Doesn't make sense…'

'No, they realised that--'

'I mean, Mr Prance, that was his name. He could stop using it and keep prancing.'

'Yes, Pooh, they--'

'Whereas Rabbit is called Rabbit and is a rabbit.'

'Pooh, they did--'

'He can't un-Rabbit himself, National Potiphar Day or not.'

'Pooh, they modified it.'

'They?'

'Tigger and his PR.'

'Gosh, he has a proportional representative.'

'Or is it PA?'

'Gosh, he's bought Philadelphia.'

'Personal Assistant.'

'Who is?'

'Tiffany Breathless. She came up with what she called an interim-facing-fix-going-somewhere-or-other.'

'Which is what?'

'The Poet Still Intermittently Called Rabbit.'

'Mmm. No. Timing problem, Piglet.'

'Timing?'

'How will we know when he's a poet and when he's a rabbit? We might see him out and about and say, "Hello, Rabbit, how are you?" but if we, you know, pick the wrong time, we might never get "I'm well, thank you" out of him.'

'Well actually, Pooh, they realised that, too, so--'

'I mean I might just want to pass the time of day with him--as him--but instead I might get an earful of that…you know…stuff.'

'Well, that's why they did what Tiffany called an assessment and unfurther-doingness implement, so--'

'I might say "Hello Rabbit" and he might give me the old, you know, "Thou still unvarnished bed of quietness" and all that.'

'They've decided--'

'Or start wittering about that Arthur League and how he kept going onwards--'

'Pooh, they've changed his name again.'

'To?'

'Brer Baudelaire.'

'What?'

'French poet, Baudelaire was. Tigger says he wrote Fleurs du Mal.'

'What's that mean?'

'Flowery and bad, apparently. But he's really famous. Tiffany says the name has cashew.'

'Fleurs…you sure it isn't Mal's Flowers?'

'Ah, well, now, she and Tigger didn't rule that out either.'

'So we're talking about bouquet-facing sponsorship.'

'A tee-shirt, at the very least.'

'"How's my emoting?" No, can't see Rabbit in a tee-shirt. Or writing a poem, come to that.'

'Oh, that's not a priority. The main thing is to be a poet.'

'Has he written any?'

'Just the one.'

'Which is?'

'"With a wife and twelve kids

  and a leaf in my gob

  that's amore.…"'

'They've got their work cut out.'

'Going forwards.'

'Backwards, Piglet. Emphatically backwards.'