Tuesday 19 July 2011

Cassiopeia and the Caterpillar

Once upon a time, a girl was leaving her house to visit her dear old granny. Her granny was very, very old; much older than anyone could remember, and moved about with the aid of a wooden caterpillar three times the size of her. The caterpillar was charmed and was very heavy but got Granny where she needed to go. At night, passers by could observe the silhouette of Granny moving around the house by the light of a flickering hurricane lantern (gas was all she swore by) and the sound of the caterpillar's eighteen legs on the creaking floorboards.
The sun was still in the sky when the girl, whose name was
Cassiopeia, set off to see Granny. The climate where she lived was mild and boring, and the neighbours rarely spoke to eachother, for fear of causing offence with conflicting views and the consequences thereafter. There were no barbeques, street parties or wild drunken tango nights, like in Lewisham, because no-one had any friends. Once a year they got together on the hill just outside the town to burn one of the witches that passed through. Apart from that, the witches were left alone and so was everyone else.
Cassiopeia was taking her Granny some fresh bread and olives from her garden, as she did every Wednesday. It was agreed, that since
Cassiopeia had killed Granny's cat the year before with diesel and airfix glue, she'd have to go and visit the slimy old hag every week, and endure a whole evenings reprimanding from the top of that awful wooden freak insect.
Cassiopeia rounded the curve at the end of the road leading to Granny's house, and felt the box of matches in her pocket. The curtains were open, and she could see the caterpillar skulking around the kitchen with Granny doing something over the stove. She wandered up to the door in no particular hurry and let herself in.
Granny. She said.
Hello my dear. Leered Granny. Have you bought rancid old olives again from your father's miserable vegetable patch?
Of course. Replied Cassiopeia.

Then she lit a match, put it inside the box and shoved it into the wooden caterpillars mouth which looked at her with dead unseeing eyes, and as it exploded into flames she ran out of the door, locking it from the outside.

As the thatched roof blazed, Cassiopeia sat on the hill and ate all the olives and the bread, thinking of what she was going to tell the king.

Postcards from Glastonbury Festival 2011



















Photographs by Roxi Kiley