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.