Friday night is pub quiz night at the "Full Moon and Lunatic" and Moony and I always turn out. One day we hope to return with the prize Money, but until then its just a cracking good way to spend a Friday Evening. Our team the W.I ladies are fairly good and we take it all very seriously, Bramwell designed us a team uniform; its a fetching outfit consisting of fluffy purple jumper, pleated green skirt and little beret. Henny has also taken to bringing cheerleaders pom poms with her and really whipping up team spirit with her routines. We drive them all down and Mrs Pine-Coffin makes the sandwiches. Tonight as I fastened on my hat Mrs Bagshott-Smyth came banging in still dressed in one of her less than fetching pairs of footless tights and drooping leg warmers with some bits of twig hanging from her ponytail. After a few over theatrical stretching exercises which she calls the "Oshhhha ahh" and I call the "Ohh is that my back going" she produced from behind her back something that looked like a badly stuffed pair of tights fighting with a Guy Fawkes doll whilst he burst into merry flames atop the bonfire. "I have designed... A new MASCOT for our team. It was inspired by a ..." She paused, pulled herself up to her full height, stuck out her chest and fixed her eyes on something in the middle distance. "A Woodsprite!". Moony snorted loudly and got the hoover out as the creature was shedding glitter and leaves all over the carpet. I put on my glasses to look at it and was even more horrified. No one would get in the car with it so it had to be strapped to the roof and a shower of debris followed us to the pub. We passed Mr Dingbat walking his dog and as his eyes were drawn to the roof rack I saw a silent scream escape his lips. I knew how he felt. A crowd gathered to watch as we tried to wrestle it down and Mrs Bagshott-Smyth looked daggers at Henny as one of its arm type things came away in her hand, but we rammed it back on with some of Nells chewing gum and it held better than the rest of the thing. The pub landlord insisted that we leave it in the beer garden as he didn't want it putting of customers. He supposed that in the twilight and with a beer in its hand it might pass as one of his more eccentric regulars and not draw suspicion. We had a wonderful time, and much to our surprise and my pride at the end of the evening Bramwell as captain of his team ( The Ruby Slippers) lifted the cup and the prize money and brought us all one last round.
Late that night as Moony and I listened to the local news in bed, on our transistor radio the announcer suddenly became very serious. "Reports just in that the Beast from the Moors was spotted having a leisurely Beer outside "The Full Moon and Lunatic" Some reports even suggest that a pack of crisps were involved. All a far cry from its sheep snatching antics....! Ohh dear We'd better not say anything.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Hello Dears Ida Batwing HereI feel awful about keeping the awful truth from Mrs Nito. I saw Woger as large as life right there buying stripy jimjams; I know it would shatter her heart. But I suspect that Mrs Moony of some awful duplicity. I consulted the runes about my dilemma and they spelt out to me….They spelt out …Ida you must seek the truth. So I’m off to Harlot Harley's house. And I hope she has a very convincing explanation. Maybe he was a messenger from the other side or a dream… Ohh I hope my psychic dreams are coming back. I found out all sorts of things winning lottery tickets…. That’s how I came to have this lovely extension
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Today heralds the start of the Dingbat Wobble and Fryer summer sale so Moony and I popped down. As we’ve been to a number of these over the years we came prepared (knee pads, cycle helmets, tennis rackets). A large crowd had formed outside, Charles and Ollie were rather energetically jogging on the spot and Ida was trying unsuccessfully to read Mr Misery’s future. I could see Mrs Dingbat peaking round the corner of one of her displays, a jaunty pile of rocking chairs and tangerine coloured cushions all with sale stickers sellotaped on, they might be for sale but I couldn’t see the cushions selling. After a half hours wait Mr Fryer swung the doors open and we all made a mad dash inside. Little Henny disappeared underfoot, only her plaintiff cries could be heard and it was some time before she was discovered clutching onto Mrs Arbathnot-nuts leg in ladies clothing. She looked bedraggled but otherwise fine and I’m sure she was as pleased as Charlie was about his sale finds (a lovely pair of pale blue trainers, five pairs of bright red silk boxer shorts and a charming pair of plaster king Charles spaniels for the mantelpiece) at least I’m sure that’s what that look on her face meant. I had come for some new Kilner jars as Moony had made a terrible mess the day before when she was looking for one of her knoptic jars. The vital one that contained her lungs. The long and the short of it is that we now need a new home for them and some new pickled cabbage. On the bright side a Miss Ada Fenchurch of the British museum was surprised to find a recently super glued but 100 percent authentic knoptic jar from the tomb of Tutankhamen on EBay (buy it now price of £2.50, we wanted it off our hands) . I bumped into Ida Batwing in the homes and interiors department looking for a new set of table cloths, preferably black and fringed, for that Gypsy-psychic look she does so well. She clasped my arm and announced in hushed tones “Woger is in… is in …is in” sadly Moony chose that juncture to have a small coughing fit and whatever Ida was about to say sounded for all the world like “Woger is in Men’s night wear” . When I asked her to explain she was gone, off in a trance that led her over to some particularly heavy chenille curtains. I went in search of some nice green yarn to knit myself a winter cardigan; I see something tastefully draped, frilly lace cuffs and bobbles that look a little like Brussels sprouts, maybe a bow closure. Mr Misery was at the wool department counter enquiring if they had any knittable steel wool, in black for a vest his wife was making him. The assistant’s hair almost stood on end, until she convinced him that Daria might be just as uncomfortable. But he saw the bright vivid colours and after an apoplectic fit passed out. It must be hard having that little fun. When he came round she offered to order him some Habu steel wool and he almost smiled until he realised he had taken a vow against such heathen expressions of joy grabbed the stapler and fixed his expression of joyless sobriety back in place. When he found out about this Dr De-ath took him to hospital to have them removed. I found something just right with a nice bobbly texture and a lot of yardage always a plus for an economical lady like myself. I tracked Moony back down in lingerie; she has rather vulgar taste and was buying a pair of marabou trimmed leopard print devore pyjamas with diamante buttons. I tried not to say anything but really, they were rather over the top. Henny emerged from one of the fitting rooms to ask my opinion on a new girdle, they all seemed to be designed for a much taller woman than her and she has to have a special order of extra, extra smaller else they start at her neck and end at her knees. We were all delightfully pleased with our buys and Henny invited us and Ida & Mary back to her house for tea, as we left we passed Charlie’s Grandma Mary Q.O.S in crafts. Ear trumpet in place, buying a tapestry kit of... herself .Henny groaned “Zats probably vat ve vill be gotting far Chrismouse