Hello my dears !
I seem to have been away for a few weeks don't I , helping out Mrs C and Holly. But never fear I'm back now and not a moment too soon. This weekend the Cutting Sprout village hall, had a grand event . The hall was the kind donation of Sir Eppingly Arbathnot-Nut in 1906. Sir Eppingly was a noted eccentric ,with many awards, who insisted his whole life on wearing a single grape pinned to his forelock. But charitable to a fault. He finnally pegged it in the giant sardin tin he had made to replace his fathers blancmange folly (blown away in the notorious "Arn't there a lot of odd things coming out of the sky tonight... Arggghhh" storm of 1899), dressed as a parrot. He has always been sorely missed, I best remember when he opened his charming house to us as a VAD training hospital. He always played patient and he and I got on rather well. Why if it had'nt been for Woger and of Course Lady Samantha Snively Arbathnot-Nut... but I dare say you don't want to hear about that. Anyway it provides a charming backdrop for the annual village fete and scout fundraiser. This year the dear boys were raising money for the church to have a hole in their roof rendering all those new roofs finally useful. Moony and I had decided that we'd raise money for a campaign to enhance awareness of Brussels sprouts in our schools." I beg pardon dear but you decided, and I don't remember agreeing"! WE DECIDED MOONY. Anyway I baked up some perfect little Dropped scones . As I understand you bake them and then drop them a perfect recipe for the careless ! Henny (a new girl to the village) became a touch over excited when we told her about the fete ,squealing "Ohh ey om gitting a noo dress four dis! Nover far I wall mac yar fate goo with a bong !" She seems to have spent much of the rest of the week in Bramwells Dress shop and her son James (now happily taken a post as Cutting Sprout's Berrywood school's Science teacher) was heard making some very odd noises in the shed. When I called on them this Friday I looked in on a very odd scene, Charles , we think it was him was dressed in sprigs of plants with dear Henny prancing around in a fairy costume. I was'nt sure what this might mean but I steeled myself and knocked the door. A minute later the post box was opened from inside and Henny squeeled "Donut lock Mrs Nutto , we are chingging ." Well I certainly did not want to look and I wish I had'nt. When she finally let us in she kept giggling although I have to say Charlie looked thunderous. It seems that Henny had'nt yet found time to bake anything for the fete, however she was very confident that. "I wall be spocially mocking u hoppy . " Whatever that may mean? Still Saturday dawned bright and sharpish, Moony and I wrapped up our baps and scones and headed for the village hall. I tried to ignore Harlot Harley and her husband Roger (where have I seen his face before?) as they pushed something large and wobbly up the hill. I know I'm a better cook than she ever will be and I should'nt have to prove it. As we unpacked we saw nothing of dear little Henny, busy? Surely not! After the vicar gave us his little speech however we began to detect the strains of These are a few of my favourite things on the viola, puzzled we turned to see Charlie looking terribly embarassed standing by the door. But before we could speak the ceiling began to emit odd whinching noises and looking up we spotted Henny as she dropped down resplendant as a shepherdess just breaking into song. To a squeeky "Rwain dwop and woses and girls in wit dresses with pink sotin wobins" Henny crashed into Harlot Harleys cake Harlot sobbed but Hennys a trooper and she pulled herself out still singing and up onto the stage where scenery ( english pastoral ) dropped into place. I was amazed and surprised. Moony however muttered "Bit naff" and oppened her bottle. I think it was sweet.