The magic roundabout...

I guess most of us have watched that bit in the film where the villagers gather in the town square, flaming, guttering torches in hand, greasy smoke floating into the damp night air. High above on the mountain the castle, in darkness except for a single light in the tower, casts a shadow over the town. Lightning flashes and, as if on cue (which of course it is), the villagers move as a single body along the road shouting ‘Rhubarb!’ and waving their fists in well-rehearsed ‘Grrrrrr’s’ ready to deal with the evil that lurks above.

Usually it’s Dracula or Frankenstein and his Monster, occasionally it might be a werewolf, but generally it’s some sort of creature of the night. Don’t worry I’m not going to move on to a rant here, and I’m done with Mr. ‘Clunk-Click Every Trip’ - at least for now.

I noticed the first fallen leaves of autumn today. Oh, I’m sure that they’d fallen long before I happened across them, but the stiff, cool breeze that had sprung up overnight sent them dancing and racing in front of my feet as I plodded my way along the road. I plod a lot these days, the spring in my step seeming to have lost its ‘doingggg’. Yes, it felt very ‘autumn is here’ this morning, only just here though. I watched the red-brown leaves scuttling away like squashed insects, looked up into the pale blue sky, the purple edged, not-quite-white clouds, and breathed in the slightly smoky air.

Zebedee… ‘doingggg!’

Zebedee? Where did that come from? Of course The Magic Roundabout was always the harbinger of autumn; Eric Thompson turning up every October to remind us that Halloween and Bonfire Night were on their way and that Christmas would follow closely behind; pumpkins and fireworks, Dougal, and Ermintrude the Cow.

I was probably a bit too old to watch The Magic Roundabout by the time it turned up on my childhood TV, but I used to enjoy those five minutes just before the six-o’clock news. They really were quite magical even though I can’t remember a single storyline. Mind you there were a lot of storylines to remember; something like 450. I didn’t realise at the time that the programme was French – Le Manege Enchante – nor that the English stories were different from the French ones. It was Eric Thompson, father of Emma, who wrote the English version, delivering it in his downbeat, subdued and very dry-humoured way. I’m not even sure if Zebedee, who always reminded me of Salvador Dali, even said ‘time for bed’ in the French version, he probably said ‘Oh-la-la, poo-poo moi’ or something else typically Gallic around the smellier bodily functions.

I was still watching in my twenties, way back in the early 1980’s. Mind you by then I had a daughter and two step-daughters to watch it with me. They loved it too, it really was timeless. I think the BBC ran it until 2000 or so and then a few years later Channel 4 started showing a CGI version, which I’ve never seen, but can’t believe it’s as charming as the original.

Well, well just look at that... Frankenstein’s castle, rhubarb, squashed leaf insects, Halloween, Christmas, Dougal, Ermintrude, Salvador Dali and Zebedee. See what a few fallen leaves can do.

Time for bed…doingggg!