To cheer Henny up we went shopping.

We thought Henny should have some more modern clothes as she keeps getting her hems muddy. Moony wanted a new handbag and between you and me she is a sucker for a label ( very naff my dears) . She was sniffing around some simply awful Leopard prints ones and those "Raddled" ones that every poor soul seems to think they must have. Dear Henny thought them all "'orrible" until we took her to evening bags .She does have good taste and chose a dear little beaded one just the right size for her.I knit my own .I am not foolish enough to be taken in by a label unless it has a brussels sprout on it. We then went to chose a dress for Henny but she wanted trousers .In fact taking her back to Strangely Sprouting was a fantastic idea as the good people of the local Pakistani community sell lovely Shalwar/Kameez. Henny was desperate for several and even Moony bought some bracelets. We had tea at the transport cafe then a bus home..oh my aching feet!

Things go horribly wrong at the fitness class at the Church Hall

Mrs Bagshott-Smythe runs a weekly health and fitness class at the church hall .We rarely go as Moony prefers a ciggy and a lay in an armchair and I prefer my bi-cycle.Mrs B is a terribly bossy woman but as poor Henny has curvature of the spine we must help. Harlot Harley always comes in the tightest lycra which explains why The President walks through at least ten times a session .It was so hard to persuade Henny into the communal changing room and the poor lass was terrified by Mrs B screaming "a corset ..we have no such thing here ,we are free spirits" . She then proceeded to pin her down and rip it off , Henny was bellowing " appelez un medecin" none of us is good at French except Harlot.She yelled "call a doctor, she's in agony" . Mrs B dragged her up and into the hall in her chemise and petticoats .Some soft classical music was put on and we were told to meditate Henny mumbled lots of religious stuff and Mrs B. got a whiff and stormed over . "We will have none of that superstitious nonsense here we believe in wood sprites thank-you".Luckily Henny didn't understand but asked me "are zey ze Puritans?" .I assured her that no they were Pagans and she burst into tears. Mrs B. started the movement element and noticing Henny's head turned to one side all the time roared over.Take her arms she ordered me and Moony as she dug a knee in her back and wrenched her head round to the front.The snapping noise scared us all Harlot rushed over ( she's a softie at heart) slapped Mrs B. and asKed Henny "Voulez vous une ambulance" .Henny had passed out again so Harlot and The President carried her to doctor D'eath .The President had back problems from carrying her but our wonderful doctor sorted them both out muttering about the damage done by "this new age non-sense" .

Dear little Henrietta knocked.....

at my door this afternoon .I had my pink face-pack on and was feeling a fool.So Mr. Tweedie rushed out the back. Henny ( don't come it with me with all those posh names I told her right from our first meeting) was crying and her curls had flopped into wet strands of sorrow. She then told me the horrific story of her visit to Stangely Sprouting the large town that is the capital of Veggieshire . She sensibly took her little phrase book and popped into the first shop she saw. None of us had the foresight to explain to her not to go into shops with no window display in back streets. She had announced "Je veux quelque chose en cuir " and pointed at the phrase in her book. "Ah right darling said the "uncoth oaf" and went out back only to come into the shop with an S&M outfit in black leather , a whip , hand-cuffs , a black plastic balaclava. Henrietta screamed "Executioner " and fainted .The worried owner found smelling salts and when she came round she felt her neck picked up her skirts and the poor darling ran all the way along the motorway back here. Moony arrived as she was weeping and explained what the outfits were for at which she fainted again and asked for the Priest.To give him his due Father O' rushed to us on his cycle all the way from Purple Sprouting.We had removed Henny's cross as it was stopping her breathe with the weight. Her pearls had snapped and Moony was scrabbling for them. I'd count them later if I was Henny. After much comforting all round Father strapped her to his cycle to take her to the nunnery for a short rest .We will pray for her and light a candle as requested but Moony thinks with my ancestry I should sacrifice some-one on a pyramid.

The scandalous past of our little village ....

Were you to pass through the great hall at Arbathnot-Nut towers your eye may be drawn to this fine photograph hanging before the staircase for this is a photograph with a shocking past my dears, a story that will rouge your cheeks faster than Moony on singles night at the Fullmoon and Lunatic

I am so tooched.

Madame La Cox as ..."ow you say?" zee amis tres bon . It is so niz of dear Cherry to writ aboot mon misfortuants. I av to tell er I zink Madame Niti zinks I ad tres husbandz .I do not mind ,mabee twould ave ben a grand sing .I would mabe ave saveddd ze one at zee last .Madame Nito as sinned me op for ze lessons Anglais at ze vullage all with that niz teacher Monsieur Tweedie ..it will elp . I was just passing by zee door ( madame Cox says "Got you there " to Olly oo is tittering aboot a Polizmens from France who is ze Englishmez ..what is zis fun?

Rehearsals for the Christmas play.

Despite the multitude of faiths and belief in our village it was unanimously decided by little Tommy's mother that as her baby was the cutest ever born we'd put on the nativity this year.The assembled villagers were mostly nodding off so no-one complained. The Vicar seemed pleased but his idea that we should modernise by dressing Mary as a Latin-American dancer did not go down well except with Moony who wanted the part. Little Tommy's mother made cakes all iced perfectly and swore that her little Cynthia had made the astonishing paper angel that hangs over the stage . That child screams when she sees glue so I doubt it .My Bramwell is making the costumes for the Kings. Even Harlot Harley was generous to concede the role of Mary to our new villager. We chose Mr Ahmed from the antique shop to be Joseph .I am going to be a shepherd as is Moony . Mr Dingbat will play the Innkeeper and Mrs Wobble the Innkeeper's wife.At our first rehearsal poor Mary found herself talking to Joseph's knees . We have now constructed a little remote control stagelet to move her on .Tommy's mother Helen insisted she'd given up a career as an interior decorator for her children so would design the sets. Her brief sketches are a little worrying as it would cost 25,000s just for the stable which looks like a tart's boudoir. The vicar did try to impress on her that a simple stable should not have wall-paper hand embossed by Jane Churchill. Tommy will be wearing Rachel Riley that seems a little out of keeping with the times ."Mary "screamed and raged in French when she saw the designs .Mr Ahmed had lived in Algeria so told us she called Helen a heretic and a mad-woman amongst other things. I never expected Mr. Misery to go onside with Henny but he called the whole thing a nest of Satan's vipers and stormed out tearing Helen's wallpaper as he went.The glueing is going quite well except for the ciggy burns Moony keeps making. Helen is now distraught that the shepherd's costumes don't all match ..frankly I have never seen spotted Shepherd's outfits but if she must. Her poor husband looked awful as he tried to persuade her not to sue Mr Misery as he lives in adject poverty ( well he loves it that way ..I gave him a cushion and he flung it at me) . Dear Luzbal turned up at the last minute in his hideous sports car and split his lovely red satin trousers laughing ,Moony went off to help him mend them. I went home with the most awful headache. As I passed Helen's house the light was on and they were eating fish and chips yet she swears she cooks cuisine for every meal ,rises before dawn to made breakfast bread ..ah well.

Henrietta shows us the triplets.

It got a little confusing when Henrietta showed us her husband ,well that's what we thought. It seems she married triplets which is scandalous even for Cutting Sprout .I asked her their names and she said "Charles" I said that surely they couldn't all be called that so she explained that she called one of them" Milord "and the other seemed to be "Im ". I pointed to the one in grey and said "Charles?" to which she replied "Oui" .Then to the one in red "ah Milord" she giggled so I guess the one who ( ahem) wears pearl-drop earrings is "Im". I should have liked to point out to Milord that red is not good with red hair and that asymmetrical hair is all very well on New Romantics. Moony is eaten up with envy , she did have 5,897 husbands but never three at once. I wonder which one got the chop maybe it will come out. Charles has obviously hurt his thumb poor man but that sling came in handy . I think he was probably a fashion designer but then Milord could so easily have been too. I wonder if Im was quite the ticket or maybe wearing her earrings is a joke . I'd like to ask which of the children had which father but having seen them I'm not placing any bets on the eldest I can tell you .I can't wait to hear more about her life as confusing as it must be.I asked a little about personalities which led us into territory I'd rather not go .One of them seemed to have a massive ego problem and thought God had given him powers like healing . One had a stutter( poor man ) and another was terribly shy ( you'd never guess in those outfits !

New girl in the village.

She did explain to us that she had been dead for some considerable time .Mooney chortled and assured her that is no barr to living in Cutting Sprout. I wanted to ask her what fool had painted her in yellow with her med. complxion and she said " Van Dyke" . Well we simply love him in "Diagnosis Murder" but probably his artistic skills are not the best.We are thinking of getting dear Rolf in . She is rather small so we found her our oldest cottage to live in .She is quite a wizz with the Madelaines for the W.I . Sadly she told us her father had been stabbed ,her husband be-headed and her youngest daughter poisoned .We think she should save her money on lottery tickets quite frankly. She has a rather thick accent too so is inclined to be mis-understood . Mr Misery saw her yesterday and started speaking in tongues or rather screaming in them .The word beginning with "W" that is not at all nice was flung at the poor child until Luzbal popped up and cuffed him hard on the nose.Poor darling said most English people re-act to her like that . Mooney assured her bigots get no pleasure here , we are all as weird as hell . As for faiths we have the lot . She might have to catch a bus to Purple Sprouting for the darling little Catholic Church there. Mooney and I bought her some pattens yesterday so she doesn't get her lovely dresses all filthy . she told us she used to be hopeless at housework but nearly 4 hundred years in Heaven teaches you all-sorts . I think she will a welcome bit of gaiety in the village. She put on a Masque at the Village hall last week but none of us had a clue what it was about . We could do with an artistic director for the theatre group she might do . 

Our Hayday

Here is a little picture I unearthed in the wine cellar amongst boxes of Moonys accumulated clutter and her more than substantial wine collection. A box of sweetest memories from our golden days, here we are at the village fete. -One's self in the white dress, I was considered rather the looker in my hats and gowns trimmed with little sprays of brussels sprouts. Once such a funny little story this, the vicar had only just arrived in town after the sad retirement of his predecessor, the reverend Buryman ( more about him later) and I had come down to the vicarage to introduce myself and he was just setting out for the church. Took one look at me and cycled into a hedge. I can only say he got over it. I remember constructing for that day the most enormous Brussels sprout and madeira cake. Ohh the judge sunk his teeth into it .... And I can remember his face as clear as a bell, he sort of shut his eyes and I know words escaped him in that moment . No one found themselves able to buy it and I know that they just couldnt be selfish enough to take it all for themselves. So what could a dear sweet charitable woman like myself do? Well overcome by the spirit of giving I cut that cake up wrapped each slice up and posted it through their doors late at night. The next day they were speechless.