The Woodgnome Man woke early, the first light of dawn filtering through the dense canopy of The Goyt. The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and the rustling of leaves, a perfect backdrop for his thoughts. And so, stretching his limbs, he picked up his guitar and decided a morning walk was in order. As he wandered like a minstrel, he stumbled upon a patch of wild mushrooms and, feeling adventurous, picked a few to make a mushroom brownie breakfast which he fed heartily from. Satisfied, he re-tuned his guitar and proceeded to play his music to the flora and fauna that inhabited the Goyt. The roe deer, the squirrels, the birds and even the frogs swayed in unison and joined this unusual dawn chorus.
With his stomach full and his spirits high, he set off towards the boathouse, a quaint structure nestled by the side of Carr Mill Dam. As he approached, he heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air. Peering through the window, he saw a lively jam session in full swing, led by a group known as “Those Damn Buskers.” The music was infectious, and he couldn’t help but tap his foot along to the beat. Noticing his interest, one of the musicians beckoned him inside. The Woodgnome Man hesitated for a moment but then decided to join in. With guitar in hand he was soon part of the ensemble, adding his own rhythm to the mix.
The female lead singer, with her powerful voice, captivated everyone in the room. She sang with such passion that it felt like the walls themselves were vibrating. He popped another mushroom as the band morphed and moved to the music.
The hours flew by as they played song after song, each one more exhilarating than the last. The Woodgnome Man lost himself in the music, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the band. As the evening drew to a close, he was utterly exhausted but blissfully content. He made his way to Stony End, a cosy little inn where he often stayed after a good night out. Following a hearty supper, he climbed into bed, his mind still buzzing with the day’s events. He knew he would have marvellous dreams of the music, the laughter, and the joy of the jam session at the Boathouse with Those Damn Buskers.
So, snoring heavily, he drifted off to sleep,