"Bromford Tea Party"
Are you going to the party?
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
Going to the party?
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
Going to the party?
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
Going to the party?
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
Redcoats in the village, there's fighting in the streets
The Indians and the mountain men
Well, they are talking when they meet
The king said, "Had he's gonna put a tax on tea"
And that's the reason you all Americans drink coffee
Are you going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Fire in the mountains, flames upon the heath
And the president spits out the news
He's biting on wooden teeth
The children of the colonies got a different tale to tell
I'm going down to the city, tell my folks that I'm doing well
Are you going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Bringing back the buffalo to the long prairie
Bringing back the fishes swimming in the sea
The children of the colonies got a different tale to tell
Tell my folks that I'm going to the city
Tell them that, I'm doing well
Are you going to the party?
(Are you going)
Going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Are you going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Going to the party?
(Are you going)
Going to the Bromford Tea Party?
(Are you going to the tea party)
Are you going, are you going?
(Are you going, are you going?)
Are you going, are you going?
Are you going to the party?
Are you going?
Are you going?
Are you going?
...
Without any flashbacks to that one time in Singapore, we have finally arrived in the harbour of Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and the seaside. We really took the ferry from Brighton Pier. Or was it a cruise ship? I am still not familiar with the location of Bromford, the town, and distances in this world.
And now, we - that is Kylie and her son Nigel, the llama and I - are sitting in the living room of the penthouse above the fifteenth floor of the apartment house on 666, Whitaker Lane.
»So, how did you like our adventure so far? « I ask, pouring some herbal tea.
»Feels like we were living a boy's adventure tale in the past days. Or were they weeks? Month or even years? Time is acting strange in Greenlion and the Kollobita´´rtainnen Sea. «
»There were pirates«, Kylie says.
»And fairies«, Nigel adds.
»The whole story could have used more cowboys and musketeers, if you ask me. Astronauts would have been nice, too«, the llama complains. »And there were not enough aliens. «
»Ok«, I say, »I will write that down for the next time, the next advent calendar adventure. «
»Also«, the llama goes on criticising, »you are building up and building up your stories with way to many and too short posts in the beginning, and in the end you have to rush and squeeze everything into overloaded solutions. «
»Who says it was one of my stories? « I ask looking out of the glass wall to the roof-terrace of the penthouse. Something black and white is fluttering through the dark evening towards the handrail. »What if we really travelled to all these locations, including Greenlion and the Kollobita´´rtainnen Sea? «
»Bah, Humbug«, the animal spits out.
»Are we going to the party? « I ask changing subjects.
»What party? « Kylie asks back.
»The Tea Party from that song? « Nigel asks. »What kind of a party would that be? With only tea and nothing else to drink but tea? «
»Don't be silly, Nigel. What did I send you to college for? I think you should know what the Tea Party was from your history classes. «
»Are we breaking the fourth wall again, Bromford? «
»They are doing it, I think. You cannot blame that on me. «
»Is it too early to wish you a happy new year? «
»Let's wish us all a happy new year. «
Kylie, Nigel and Llama are standing up.
»Let's go downstairs«, Kylie says. »Let's see if Speedy is having one of his New Year's Eve gatherings at his SPEEDY'S SANDWICH BAR & CAFΓ in the basement. «
»Give me some time to freshen up a little«, I say. »Go ahead. I will be with you in just a few minutes. «
As they are gone I open the sliding glass door to the roof-terrace of my penthouse. A chilling wind brings the smell of saltwater and rotting seaweed from down the canyons of the city and the Bomford Harbour.
A black and white seagull is landing fluttering on the concrete floor before me. It is holding a rolled parchment paper tied with a strand of long golden hair in its beak and it his handing it over to me. There is a strange wink in the bird's yellow eyes.
As I want to take a confused and closer look, the bird is gone, but the message remains in my hand.
I go back inside and I unroll the parchment.
In an artful handwriting I can read the following note,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.”
New Year's Eve