somewhere over the rainbow....

Feeling full of the spirit of Christmas this week Moony and I decided that our rather unusual family deserved a little treat before it all became a little bit too hectic round at our charming little abode. So it seemed heaven sent when I spotted an advertisement for a screening of "The Wizard of Oz" at Cutting Sprouts' very lovely little cinema, The Cutting Empire. I rang at once and had a lovely little chat with Miss Robins who works at the ticket office. She and I went to school together and what lovely anecdotes we have to share, about the old days and local gossip of course..... Anyway this particular film has always been one of my little Bramwell's Favourite films (I remember when we first took him to see it, he carried around that little toy dog for days), I was sure too that we could easily take along Neff and Arknatun, maybe even Henny and Charlie? I'm not sure why I was quite so optimistic, I really can't imagine what I must have been thinking. Taking Neff out is always a nightmare as you might be able to imagine. My that woman can complain, "It was never like this when I was Queen of Egypt", "I'll have you know young man that I am a Goddess!". Ohhh well I had every hope in the world that it would all go well, and so bright and early on Saturday morning I warmed up the car, locked Bunny in the basement (its for the best and it saves the sofa cushions) and propped Moony on the backseat in as merry a Christmas posture as possible under the circumstances (i.e she was asleep). At least Bramwell was happy to see me, dressed in a fetching blue gingham suit he had made himself. But when we got to Neff, ohh my I was in for a struggle, admittedly she was sitting on a deckchair on the lawn with her handbag next to the topiary version of herself. But her face was foul (well fouler than usual) and she was still wearing her fluffy pink marabou slippers. She got up with a martyred air and flung open the back seat door. She got in with a groan and announced rather harshly "I've seen it, it's a dreadful film." I saw Bramwells eyes narrow and decide that now was the time for us all to enjoy a little Christmas singalong, I burst into a round of "Jingle Bells" and everyone but Neff joined in. Even darling Moony, though she was rather out of tune as a result of all the gin she likes to imbibe. But Neff just sat there, looking out of the window with that awful superior air, so we thought we had better go and get Moonys darling father. He and Neff separated, Ark as he likes to be called is just as mad as his charming lady wife, but he likes a spot of gardening and we all adore him. He was the one she looked to when she wanted a topiary garden of her. We found him in his kitchen whipping up a batch of his own popcorn (he is awfully strange like that). In the fridge was enough homemade confectionery to see us all the way through the film. Neff snorted with derision and muttered "Hummm He never was any use unless you wanted a

plate of pancakes......" We decided to take no notice of her. After all we usually do. Hen and Charles were waiting outside the cinema. Which was a relief and Henny helped me to drag Moony out of the car and into the lobby where she engaged a cardboard cut out of Cary Grant in a heated discussion about how to make the perfect Martini. Keeping her busy for long enough for me to buy the popcorn and get our tickets clipped. We settled down in our seats to endure Mrs Barncombe's organ playing until the adverts when she descended halfway through her own version of "There will be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover" looking not a little flustered and annoyed. We sat through Pearl and Deans offerings (what a dull couple they must be) and then as the rating flared up I felt something fluffy and odd land on my lap. I almost screamed but just in time I looked down and realised that it was little Muffy. Now dogs are not allowed in the cinema but I know she's always been a bit of a film buff so we often sneak her in (also she adores popcorn). I carry a little headscarf and some sunglasses to disguise her with (when she wears them she looks just like Grace Kelly). Pretty quickly into the film Neff began to snore and Bramwell gave her that little look of his. It must have worried Moony as she stuffed a pair of old tights from her handbag (I do not know why she carries some of the things she does) into Neffs mouth... The snoring stopped but I hoped that no one would look to closely at our little gathering. The film was a sucsess for an outing of ours which is a surprise. Bramwell was crying when we got up to leave you know. Hes so sensitive.... Poor Lamb

The children of cutting sprout take santa very seriously.

Their dogged determination to make the last post gives us all cause to be cautious when we step outside. Try to post your milk cheque at your own risk my dears, I still bear the scars from my one foolish attempt to do so...... But aah bless them, meanwhile Mr Dingbat is fattening up to play a very famous festive visitor, just don't tell them that......

We wish you a merry christmas

We Wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year........

Hallooo It's me King Charles and my lovely wife Henny(Oui C'est moi).

Piano at the vicarage

Mrs Mooney does enjoy a rectial and polishing the piano.

How to fill the villagers stockings.......

Moony and I mulled over our Christmas present options this weekend outside CuttingSprouts lovely little bistro (a rather charming and chic little place with what dear Moony calls "Such darling waiters!!!"), looking at this picture I'm even less convinced than I was at the time that Mrs Moony was drinking coffee. If she was then why might I ask did she need a soda siphon? Anyway my dears I scribbled and Moony suggested. Now I dare say that she has her reasons for suggesting some of these things but I don't even dare to type their names, why might I ask would the vicar need to keep that particular part of his anatomy so warm? I had to dismiss so many of her ideas, but in the end we got down to a perfect list. And the vicar will be getting socks, you'll be glad to know (genuinely black none of this very dark blue they fob you of with). And once I'd downed my third cup of coffee Moony tipped the waiter heavily "Never try to drink water backwards, better to light a candle than curse the darkness, if you want to peel a boiled egg dip it in cold water" we left, leaving the waiter edified but looking just a wee bit mystified. We popped into Dingbat, Wobble and Fryers emporium where the gaily decorated Christmas tables are set out (its the staff their getting these days). In the window a large papier-mache Santa clause with untrustworthy eyes stared deep into the souls of a throng of elves who were skipping in the fake snow with their gaudy as a tarts boudoir Christmas gifts. A sight to warm the cockles of your heart, provided that your completely unhinged. We made our way to a hastily constructed department called "Gift Ideas" Humm, once you've got one games compendium haven't you rather got them all? We asked one of the assistants for help with Bramwells gift, he seemed to know him rather well, apparently they both frequent the "Ruby Slippers" not a pub I can say I've ever been too but it all sounds very Gay when Brammy describes it to me.... He pointed us right to the perfect gift. All beads and sequins half price and swore that even if they met again he wouldn't tell. Moony sulked which is strange when shes around a handsome young man she usually flirts horrendously when I asked her about this she sniffed and muttered "Not much point old girl, coals to Newcastle and the like" I wonder what she meant. I decided to cheer her up by finding her a little something....

If that Rupert Everett thinks his lineage is good look at this .

Horus name
Kanakht Tutmesut -The strong bull, pleasing of birth


Nebti name
Neferhepusegerehtawy Wer-Ah-Amun Neb-r-Djer -One of perfect laws, who pacifies the two lands; Great of the palace of Amun; Lord of all[4]


Golden Horus name
Wetjeskhausehetepnetjeru Heqa-maat-sehetep-netjeru Wetjes-khau-itef-Re Wetjes-khau-Tjestawy-Im -Who wears crowns and pleases the gods; Ruler of Truth, who pleases the gods; Who wears the crowns of his father, Re; Who wears crowns, and binds the two lands therein
Prenomen


Nebkheperure -Lord of the forms of Re
Son of Re
Tutankhamun Hekaiunushema -Living Image of Amun, ruler of Upper Heliopolis

Mrs Mooney.

Ohh dear.....

Now let me say this without to much alarm to my readers, I have always been a little unnerved when I pop into our doctors surgery and see the little sign on his door "Dr De'ath will see you now" but when I saw this poster on his Way I was even more unnerved. How might one ask did a carrot get into medical school what practical use would it be as a doctor. This one appears to have arms and legs, not to mention eyes,nose and mouth so I suppose it would be rather better disposed than an average carrot on the other hand it must have been grown near sellafield in order to develop these attributes which does not umm......bode well.

one

Cutting Sprout in autumn.

As you know from reading this my correspondence with you, we at Cutting Sprout have been preparing for our harvest festival. Always a cause of great celebration in this little corner of the world where on the fringes of Cutting Sprout as I have doubtless told you before sweet little farms abound. I of course look forward to the Brussels sprout harvest, Moony woke me up only last weekend to ask me when the Gin bottle harvest is. Bless the poor lass I didn't know how to explain it to her so I told her to nip down to the kitchen and make herself some Gin and Cornflakes whilst I got a few more winks of sleep. But once she was gone I lay there and had a little think, what might people with a less discerning pallet than myself might bring along for the Vicars lovely harvest table all decorations for the church being provided by the lovely Mrs Pine-Coffin. I'm afraid they were rather messed with by some other pretentious and bossy villagers whose names I will not divulge here....But don't they think they're the cats pyjamas? I contributed a little wreath of Brussels sprouts and cornflowers. That I suspect caused ohh...Just a little pang of jealousy in the aforementioned villager ( oh okay a certain Mrs Barnstorm and her cronies).... Well as the nights got darker we brushed of our nice warm outfits (unless of course our name was Bagshott-Smyth, more from her later) and little village children went around singing "All things bright and beautiful" and "We plough the fields and scatter" until Moony remarked that they shouldn't encourage illegal land ploughing. I asked her how the little poppets might be doing this (I was at the time sowing an ear of corn suit for one of the local nursery class so that he could pop up on stage and deliver his line "I 'v grown"). Well she said "If they were ploughing those fields legally then they wouldn't have to scatter would they?" Again I didn't feel qualified to explain so I sent her across the road for "a cup of something or other" Her eyes lit up and she scurried across the road with a tumbler. I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to my sewing machine which stuck on automatic had put an unusual pattern into a tomato costume and I had to unpick some of the worst bits. I'll say its one of those things where something gets scorched into it by the greenhouse. Moony didn't come back for a while, she'd been very much enjoying Henny and Charlie's drinks cupboard. I really hadn't meant a cup of whisky but that is what she brought back. Never Mind. We pottered along to the service on Sunday, me with a basket of garden produce and Moony with a tin of Jolly Green Giant sweetcorn which she insisted was harvest produce, just as she had the year before with a pack of sage and onion flavoured gravy. I try to say as little as possible on these occasions. It was charming, and my costumes turned out to be "rather sweet in a surreal way" as the vicar put it. And only a little misshapen. When we left the church we found little notes attached to the trees leading us to the woods, we looked at each other intrigued and then as one we followed the arrows.

Guess what we found yes Mrs Bagshott-Smyth and her women's group, a lot of very alcoholic punch and some wooden toad stools large enough to sit on. The punch helped I must say to enable us to better interpret Mrs Bagshott-Smyths "Dance of the Autumn sprites welcoming the Winter". I must say that they were graceful, bizarre and in the spirit of cutting sprout totally un-put off by the start of an early frost. But I snuck of home before anyone could ask my opinion. Call me a diplomat my dears, Henny did when she caught up with me. The two of us made our way home via every conker in the woods (Henny cant help herself picking them up and her pockets were bulging.) We talked about our families as we walked and we hummed and I imagine that the unknowing observer might have mistaken us for darling Pooh and Piglet.