Cathar Country Info

Mrs Arthur and The Great Excalibur Porridge Spoon

[With apologies to Mallory’s “Mort d’Arthur” and other bits of Early English History]

Once upon a time there was a jolly kindly lady called Mrs Arthur who, with occasional help from her husband, King Arthur, ran a guest house next to the Castle in the ancient village of Camelot, in their Kingdom of Wessex. The village was very popular with tourists, so there was usually plenty of trade.

One Springtime Sunday, whilst her nephew Alfred, who was something Big in the Government, but very absent-minded, was staying for the weekend, Mrs Arthur – whom everyone in the village knew as Guinevere - had to go out to her chicken-run to get some fresh eggs for the guest’s breakfast. This took some time, as there were thirteen Very Important Guests staying, and so she asked Alfred, who was up early because he couldn’t sleep, to keep an eye on the porridge she had set on the kitchen stove to keep warm.

Unfortunately Alfred became very distracted by thoughts of Affairs of State. So much so that by the time Mrs Arthur returned with the fifteen eggs – thirteen for the VIGs, one for Alfred, and one for herself - the porridge had burnt onto the bottom of the copious copper cauldron; and the large wooden spoon that had come as a Special Offer with the Excalibur-brand Oats, and which Mrs Arthur had left in for Alfred to stir the porridge with, had become stuck fast in the now Very Sticky Mixture. Poor Mrs Arthur couldn’t shift the Excalibur-spoon. Alfred - whose friends called him The Great because he was very strong - couldn’t shift it. And King Arthur was, as usual on a Springtime Sunday, already away playing War Games, or the new Scots game of ‘The Golfe’, with his cronies from the Round Table.

Arthur liked his War Games so much that he had asked his good neighbour, a French carpenter called M. Erlin, to build him a grand round table for their guest house; and it was to this table, set in the grand dining hall of their 3-star Guest House that the guests came down that morning for their breakfast.

“I’m terribly sorry” said Mrs Arthur as they arrived, each one bleary-eyed after a Saturday evening’s carousing in the nearby tavern, ‘The Grail-and-Holy’, “but unless one of you can pull my favourite wooden spoon out the Sainsbury’s Best ‘Excalibur’ Porridge, Porridge will be OFF today and you’ll have to make do with a Boiled or Poached or Scrambled Egg each, and Banbury Cakes. Although even the Cakes are over done, because my silly nephew Alfred’s managed to let them burn as well”

Twelve of the guests being members of the ‘Steadfast International Rugby’-sponsored Cadbury Cup-winning ‘Grail-and-Holy’ Team (the other three had been injured during the previous days match against The Barbarians, and hospitalised) they weren’t going to pass up such a challenge of strength. So the thirteenth Guest, their tough Welsh lady Coach, Morgan-le-Fay, immediately lined the team up and marched them into Mrs Arthur’s kitchen so that each one could in turn try to pull the Excalibur Spoon out of the Very Sticky Mixture. They looked a fine sight, each one wearing his rugby shirt with the Sponsors logo – “SIR” emblazoned proudly in red above the players own name.

First to try was Agravaine, one of King Arthur's youngest nephews. He couldn’t budge the spoon at all.

Then two more of Arthur's nephews, Gawain and Gaheris, tried in turn, but all they managed to do was to get the spoon sitting in the Very Sticky Mixture at a Very Silly Angle.

Then three other members of the Grail-and-Holy XV, Percival, Tristram and Lamorak all tried in turn, but to no avail. The Excalibur Porridge Spoon stayed stuck even more fast as the Very Sticky Mixture set stiffer and stiffer.

“Let Us Try” called out Bors, Kay and Galahad, all three distant relatives of the absent Arthur, and ‘overseas’ – i.e. Geordie - guest members of the Grail-and-Holy team. But all they managed to do was push the handle further into the Very Sticky Mixture.

Then Lancelot, who had been standing patiently at the back of the line, chatting to Guinevere, whom he liked an awful, awful lot, stepped forward to take his turn. First he grasped with one hand what was left of the handle of the Excalibur Spoon still visible above the Very Sticky Mixture, and pulled. It lifted just a little, just enough to get his other hand on it as well, and then he pulled again. But sadly all the twisting and pulling and pushing by Agravaine and Gawain and Gaheris and Percival and Tristram and Lamorak and Bors and Kay and Galahad had simply made even more of the Very Sticky Mixture stick to the handle, and it still stuck fast. And by this time the soft-boiled eggs had turned hard, and the Banbury-Cakes, under Alfred’s none-too-watchful eye, to smouldering crispbread.

Then the bold and brave Gareth – Mr Arthur's favourite nephew - stepped forward. A tall handsome young man, he also liked the scramble of the age-old ball game of The Socer, but preferred wielding a strong Willow staff against a hard leather ball hurled by a dangerous foe from the far end of the Jousting Lists, known as The Wickete. So Gareth grasped the Very Sticky handle of the Very Sticky Excalibur Spoon with both hands, and with a great flexing of his biceps and six-pack, Pu-ll-ll-ll-ll-ed.

At first, nothing happened apart from Gareth going rather red in the face. Then all of a sudden the Excalibur Spoon shifted an inch, and then by half the length of its Very Sticky handle, and then with a great Gurlumph-Plumph-Squ-ullod it came free of the now near-rock-hard Very Sticky Mixture.

But as everyone cheered this great feat of strength, Gareth staggered backwards with the sudden release of the Excalibur Spoon from the Very Sticky Mixture. He staggered backwards through the open Kitchen door into the Grand Guest Breakfast Room, where he landed flat on his back on the Great Round Table, his arms flying backwards above his head. The Excalibur Spoon flew from Gareth’s grasp, in an arc through the air, and straight out of the tall Breakfast Room window, and across the guest house lawn, and straight into the dark, dark Lake at the end of the garden.

The Excalibur Spoon landed bowl-first with a huge Splash; and with the weight of the very large dollop of Very Sticky Mixture still stuck to it, its settled quickly in the deep dark waters, with the end of it’s long handle bobbing up and down above the surface.

But the weight of the dollop of Very Sticky Mixture quickly pulled it downward, and before anyone could blink the Excalibur Porridge Spoon was gone from view.

But then Bedivere - one of the longest-serving members the Grail-and-Holy XV, and the best Hooker they had ever had, sprang into action. With a leap and a bound he vaulted the Round Table, did an Olympic-standard Triple Jump out of the window and across the garden, and a world-record Pike and double-twist Dive into the Lake. The whole company, Mrs Arthur included, having rushed to the Breakfast Room window, stood spellbound and silent. Breakfast - eggs, porridge and all - was forgotten.

Then all of a sudden a hand, holding high the handle of the Excalibur Spoon, emerged from the deep dark waters. Followed by the rest of the arm and Excalibur Spoon, with the remains of the now Very Wet Very Sticky Mixture dripping from it; and finally there appeared the proud smiling face of ….. Bedivere.

And with a further splish splash and splosh he climbed quickly out of the lake, and with three huge leaps and bounds he reached the Breakfast Room window. Where, with a deep bow, he returned the great Excalibur Spoon to Mrs Arthur. And the other guests all cheered. And Gareth proclaimed loudly: “Madame Guinevere, every time the Grail-and-Holy team stays here from now on, please serve us our breakfast porridge with this spoon, which we shall henceforth call ……..The Ladle of the Lake.”

Alfred, having been the cause of the problem, quickly made himself scarce, and went off in a huff, with a Great New Plan to make a hostile takeover bid for the Essex First XV, known as The Danes.

And just at that moment, King Arthur appeared at the door, and leaned heavily on his Great Round Table.

“Where’s my breakfast, woman” he exclaimed “Today’s War Games have been cancelled due to Injuries and the ‘Flu, the Lists’ fairway is flooded, and I’m hungry……….……….. Where’s my Porridge?

© 2011 John Midgley, St Cirac, Ariège