Monday, May 07, 2007
Moony trained as hard as she ever does (Sleeping in the wheelbarrow with a newspaper on her head) meanwhile I did what I did best baked some little round tartlets with running shoes iced on. One look and I'm sure the competitors would be spurred on. Finally the day dawned, amazingly clear Sky's the kind of weather the Reverend Pine-Coffin always enjoys heartily, by the time we got to the village green he and Mrs Pine-Coffin were sitting in a little tent with a thermos flask of tea and some rather moist little cucumber sandwiches . I huddled up with them and waited for everyone to arrive and line up. I was rather pleased to notice that everyone had entered into the spirit of the thing , even Mr Misery had donned a lovely new black tracksuit which he was proud to tell us all wasn't just black but "A new kind of black made from all the blackest things on earth. Coal, really dark raisins, tar, carbon black and oil. Cromwell would approve! " Cromwell who had come along stiffled a giggle as he went past in his orange and black strippy sequinned all in one. But I'm very polite so I just smiled and nodded. Harlot predictably was wearing less material than some of my flannels tighter than an elastic band, I was not impressed but suddenly Moony felt overdressed, she had finally convinced James to push her wheelbarrow which he saw as "Fun penance". Still at least they made good time unlike Harlot who spent her time leaning of fences chatting to Charlie II, she only returned to running if she saw Nell who had come as an orange "Its novel innit ! " Henny has much shorter legs than the rest of us so she was exempt from the running and kept to the village hall "I will mock sandwitches and tea in the big earn". I had decorated my little truck with Bramwells help, swags of purple roses and bows which looked rather delightful. Mrs Pine-Coffin would drive and Bramwell would play the piano whilst I sang and Ida told people their fortunes. The vicar fired his starting gun and we whipped round the green, past the President whose health prevented him from running but I noticed not from enjoying the sun and snacks outside the Full Moon & Lunatic, or the barmaids hospitality. I'm afraid even in our little village rivalry can ruin a pleasant sporting event and Mr Misery had to be disqualified after he tripped Charlie I up when he thought no one was looking. Oliver picked Charlie I up and helped him to the first aid stall where Henny fussed over him (she's so adorable) Oliver insisted on taking Charlie's running number and finishing the race for him. There was great surprise when a small red haired figure shot past, the President stood clapped and shouted "Come on Barbie" as this surprise entrant began to take the lead we were all very excited . Sadly we were enjoying ourselves so much that we didn't notice Mrs Bagshott-Smyth zip past in her little sports car but I saw her stop just short of the finish line and try to rush into first place. Of course we had words and she had to step aside as James came in first trundeling Mrs Moony. Charlie had started limping round the track with his cane and Henny to lean on. He came in last of course but we gave him a rossette. Oliver slapped him on the back and knocked him out cold. Moony graciously vacated her wheelbarrow into which he was dumped and we all made our way to the village hall for a little party. Eventually Charlie came round and joined in the celebrations. We'd made more than enough money to build the new radio transmitter. Radio Cutting Sprout is coming to a wireless near you very soon!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Three weeks ago I was hanging out certain items of Moonys on our little cloths line when I saw Charlie emerge from his cottage wearing a natty red velvet tracksuit with C.R in gold all over the back. I was surprised I hadn't really expected him to have something like that in his wardrobe. I was even more surprised when he began to stretch and jog on the spot before waving goodbye and sprinting down the lane almost colliding with our poor Postman as he wobbled by on his bicycle, Moony and I were puzzled. We sat in the front sitting room with out Coffee and knitted some more socks for the Home Guard boys many of whom are very old and cant go sitting around on damp ground without warm socks at their age. Eventually Charlie came jogging back with our new vicar who isn't really in the right sort of shape for all that running and was having great difficulty. Well when we saw that we were intrigued and nipped out to talk to them it turned out that the new vicar had organised a run to raise funds for the village to have a radio station "I have a little dream that we could reach a wider audience with a message of love and tolerance." I dare say that your not surprised that we find The Reverend Pine-Coffin much an improvement on our old vicar. Later when we popped down to Dingbat Wobble and Fryers we spotted a poster in their window, a bright print of a laughing choir boy running down the road pursued by radios, I could tell the original artwork was by the vicars wife. I have often seen her paintings and find them very umm modern. Underneath it said "RUN FOR NOT FROM THE RADIO TODAY. SIGN UP TO RUN A MERRY MILE FOR CUTTING SPROUTS OWN RADIO STATION." Moony rushed in and came out with a rather exotic combination of shorts and top bright turquoise with gold pipping she asked me if I thought she should have her initials embroidered on, from which I highly discouraged her as I thought it sounded very naff. And besides which I suspected that she wouldn't do much training . She had also brought a wheelbarrow the reason for which I couldn't guess until she informed me that she would be completing the race as a novelty runner "I plan to be pushed in a wheelbarrow my dear, you didn't think that I was going to run !" I suspected as much. I decided that I wouldn't run, instead I would offer help and comfort along the way and then late at night I realized the role I would play, I would ride ahead on a flat bed truck singing and cheering them on. Ohh I hear Moony calling to me, I must run. More tomorrow my dears.