“Wha? Where am I? What happened?” Andrew awoke in a chilly chamber, dimly lit and dank. Was he a prisoner in an ancient pile next to the sea? A young woman with coppery hair seemed to float before him. He immediately noticed she had the most incredible pair of big, round … um, eyes! [Yes, that’s what he was thinking – she had beautiful eyes.] Wow! He must have gotten hit hard on the head! She turned away from him, and he saw that she also had a tail that would grab any man’s attention!

The lovely creature returned with a ration of grog and a steaming hot serving of bouillabaisse. “Here, you need a hot meal after your ordeal! My name is Adelaide, but you can call me ‘Just Plain Daisy Mermaid. Welcome to my lair!” Although he was not fully conscious, he would not have called her ‘Plain’. He wondered what bait a fisherman might use to capture such a beauty!

Andrew tried to stand, but his legs failed him. He felt pain all over his body; he was faint. He must have sustained a traumatic head injury that made his brain feel as if it had been caught in the Maelstrom and then tossed out. He wanted to move, but his efforts were to no avail. No, he must remain in bed.

When Andrew awoke, he saw Daisy in a chair at her dressing table, braiding her hair. Andrew thought she was more attractive when her tresses flowed loose. When she saw him looking at her, Daisy said, “Oh, my handsome sailor! I am so glad that you’re awake! I hope you’re feeling better! Here, I’ll get you some more bouillabaisse!”

“No, no! Wait! I’m a man of plain tastes. Instead of bouillabaisse, could I just have fish and chips? And a pint?”

“Of course! I’ll get that straightaway! Now you just relax on the chaise longue!” Daisy disappeared behind a curtain which seemed to cover the doorway to the galley. Andrew lay back while soft rock music played over a hidden sound system. Daisy called out, “Do you like the music? It’s an Australian group from the 1970s and ‘80s, called Air Supply. They remind me a bit of the Bee Gees, don’t you think?” She soon returned with a tray bearing plates of battered fillets of haddock fried in butter, accompanied by hot ‘chips’, or wedges, of fried potato; of course, there were also the requisite lemon wedges, parsley garnishes, and malt vinegar, along with that American abomination, ketchup. Daisy mentioned that her friends from the Tagus estuary in Portugal referred to the fish as pescado frito.

After their meal, Daisy invited her guest to visit the Octopus’s Garden in the shade. Andrew was astounded to see branch corals growing at this depth. [Well, maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise; after all, somehow, he was able to breathe and talk here at the bottom of the Bay of Biscay. Must be Mermaid Magic!] The garden was lovely; clearly the design had been influenced by Japanese Zen gardens. It also reminded him of the shallow seas in the Bahamas. A great shadow momentarily covered the garden; perhaps a cloud? No, it was a majestic fin whale swimming overhead.

What’s this? Andrew heard the deep melodious sounds of bells. Daisy explained, “I collect ship’s bells from shipwrecks here in the bay. I’d like to use them to create a carillon. Two cephalopods, Otto and Pushkin, have selected a dozen or so which they play like handbells; when I hear them, I think of my favorite mystery novel, The Nine Tailors, by Dorothy Sayers.”

Andrew exclaimed, “This place is wonderful! You must love it here!”

Daisy replied, "Yes, ‘tis idyllic. It’s so much nicer now that those silly Liverpudlians no longer come by in their garish yellow submarine. They can just stay forever at their Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane beneath the blue suburban skies. Magical Mystery Tour, my sweet arse!”