Deep and crisp and even....

Christmas Eve, night
194?.....
Diary of Mrs G.J Nito
Cutting Sprout
Hello dear readers, felicitations of this joyful season.
Here I sit in my little study as much festive noise excites and alarms me without (who knew Moony knew how to play twister?) writing this, my Christmas diary. What a lovely few days we've been having here .... Shall I begin on Monday...
I awoke bright and early but could not find my glasses, no matter I thought to myself, I'm only going shopping and as I well know Mr Dingbat, Mr Wobble and Mr Fryer are so helpful in matters of choice (I decided to shop locally this year as it means so much to our local shopkeepers). As one would expect I took my abloutions (whatever they are, I say I took them because Moony asks if I have or not. In fact I use the time to take a bath. I dare say they are some sort of new health pill), Folded back my counterpain (so much easier since I discovered that it was not the window, you try folding glass) and decided upon an outfit from my extensive wardrobe. I have many things in there which were given to me as gifts and which I'm afraid I would never dream of wearing and then there was that red outfit I had won in the raffle last winter.... Anyway, I came down, put on the bacon for breakfast... Took off the bacon and cooked it (still don't know why one should put it on first but it's in the cookery book woger gave me so I do it that way). Not long after it's smell began to waft upstairs Moony dragged herself down, one hand searching for cigarettes in her dressing gown pocket, the other trying to tease her hair into some sort of style. For some reason when she saw me she stopped dead (or do I mean she stopped alive here?). "Nito are you feeling quite alright?" I was surprised by this as of course I felt quite well... wonderful in fact and told her so. But she persisted until I decided I might as well go out and leave her. I supposed that it was the hallucinations again...
As I left the postman fainted on next doors steps so I tucked a tonic of my own invention under his arm, they do work them so hard!
Charlies jaw dropped as I walked past and his cereal dribbled out of his mouth... you know I don't think they sewed his head on well at all...
People must have been hitting the old tipples a little hard in anticipation I thought to myself. Finally I reached Dingbat, Wobble and Fryers. I never knew that Mr Dingbat was a religious man but as I came in he crossed himself, I went up to him and he grew very pale and shrank back against his display of Mrs Ramsbodie's traditional farmhouse plum puddings (I think that she should put a photo of herself on the tin but she says she is to shy). "Now honestly Mr Dingbat, if you go on like that you'll be worn out by Christmas!! I suppose I'll see you at midnight Mass?" he gave the oddest answer, "If they let you in the church this year Mrs Nito!". Well I did what anyone would have done in that position... I walloped him with my basket. Never the less I took several of Mrs Ramsbodie's puddings. They are so very luxuriant and indulgent.... I was not put off, despite peoples strange reactions I carried on shopping. Chesses, meats and gifts piled up in my basket and at every counter I recieved some strange looks. I began to suspect that without my glasses I had chosen as a hat Moonys frillys or had put my lipstick on a little high.
Eventually I had everything that I wanted and made my way home. By then the postman had recovered and gone but Henny and Charlie were now pressed up against the window of their house and as I passed Charlie pointed me out... How strange I thought, they are both usually so polite. I opened the door, spotted Moony hiding behind the sofa, well I thought I'll leave her there if she must be strange, so be it. Dinner needed putting on and I was not going to play games. As I entered the kitchen I saw my glasses lying on the shelves where I house my pudding dishes. How careless of me I thought and popped them on so I could better light the oven. As I bent down I caught sight of myself in the shiny, mirror like surface of a biscuit tin. For a moment I stared dumbstruck and then with a piercing scream I fainted....
When I came round I found myself looking into the face of good old Moony... " I told you you looked strange" she said and I had to agree....
I had put on the red raffle outfit.... I had been wearing red....


Tuesday:
After some strong tea and a good nights sleep I was well enough recovered to accompany Moony and Bramwell on the annual hunt for our Christmas tree (I love Christmas trees as they are about the only green thing that come Christmas everyone wants) .... Into the woods we trekked, Bramwell had brought that nice strong friend of his Ivan to drag the tree home and a picnic for the search. Moony as always made straight for a weird lopesided tree that through her drunken haze must have looked very attractive and insisted that it was the one we should have... We ignored her and carried on looking. We saw big ones and small ones, fat ones and thin ones and then finally we found it.... The tree, very green, the right size, beautiful.... So we chopped it down and home we went to decorate it's merry branches. Shame I sent Moony up into the attic to find the decorations as we now have many fewer than last year but nevermind! Anyway I read an article In Womans Bi-weekly in which they suggested thousands of pretty gift ideas all made from broken ornaments... Now I have all the broken ornaments that I could want and with a few touches and some glue... well.

Today it's Christmas eve, we've opened the sherry invited our neighbours in and baked a lovely fish dinner later we shall go and celebrate the birth of Chesses... Ohh sorry spelling mistake I mean Jesus... I shall make another entry in the New Year and tell you how it's all gone. Now I must run, Henny was trying to climb the Christmas tree and from the sound of it she's got stuck... also I'm sure I heard Moony say she was going to set light to the sherry trifle...
Moony no! Put it down... Ohh well... Charlie would you like to borrow my eyebrow pencil? No? Ohh well I think you look alright without them... Ohh maybe a little startled.

So Christmas has started .

There was a tremendous bustle , shouting , screeching of brakes etc outside the cottage yesterday. I looked out and Neff. had arrived to visit her daughter ( who I might add was over several odds in bed). We loaded her luggage in the loft , garage , Henny's garage and the Church hall. As we sat trying to watch "Poiret" she heard knocking on the wall and looked very worried. We explained we were hiding a rebel ( she loved that after all her husband was a rather big one). We opened the Priest hole and passed Mrs Cox her tea and marmalade toast. As soon as it got dark we let her out as she wished to pop over to chat to Henny .She's looking a bit crushed poor dear .We put " Manifesto" on for her but she started screaming "trash, trash oh my God trash" . Neff dragged in the bin and sat back down as Mrs Cox ran. Two minutes later Neff started screaming too so we popped on some carols .I think it's going to be a long run up to Christmas. Mrs Cox says Henny has a whole cottage under hers for catholics to stay in so the Cox family can join her ( she still gets that nervous feeling that she should hide all the time poor soul ). The almighty one is being quiet but his fans are stalking her blog. Neff says she loves a good heratic ( sadly she meant the biscuit brand not Mrs Cox).

Priest holes..etc.

Mrs Mooney has stashed Mrs Cox in the Priest hole at the Manor so they can't find her for being a member of those who criticise God ..errr sorry I mean Bryan Ferry . She is complaing because Priests were obviously small . We are passing down her C.Ds to keep her amused but even having to listen to them won't make her take a word back . I'd confess straight away myself. She will insist that only God himself is above criticism so she'll have to stay incarcerated.

Mrs Nito's campaign .

"Hello my dears , aggrieved letter in the post from Mrs Cox . Apparently she's been treated abysmally by on a certain Mr Bryan Ferry 's fan-site ( not official I might add) . I don't know why she likes a man so into ferries but she's a bit eccentric . As you can imagine I was absolutely alarmed to hear this . I read on and discovered he was in a band called Roxy Music . Even now Mrs Mooney is gathering the villagers to boycott the local cinema ( I'm not sure she's got it quite right ..but that's her allover ). We are inviting Mrs Cox to tea to cheer her up and she has promised to bring some of her 78s by this man so we can hear them. I will be writing to the Queen about this matter as she has been a loyal fan she must have paid for at least a vase in his house which we demand backand possibly keep. After all we could do with a nice vase. Anyone who cares to sign our petition will have to see Luzbel as he will be popping over to your side to take it to no 10 . I shall make it clear to Gordon this is more important than the credit crunch as over the years Mrs Cox has invested in Mr Ferry's bank-balance quite heavily "

Well my dears I've pulled out all the stops for the W.I

As I always love to do my dears I have created something dramatic, something green, Something a little bit different.
Most importantly Something you will never have seen before!!!
Well....? What do you think? Pineapple, jelly roly-poly. A rather unusual little treat. I think Henny was just a little jealous with her Madelines' and tarts', (the faces she was pulling). But then again we can't all be blessed with culinary genius can we?

Ahh thats better!!!

Ahh hello dears here I am! Moony treated me to breakfast in bed this morning, did I say breakfast ? Ohh must be a Freudian slip, nothing Moony makes could be called a treat. No matter it was edible. As you can see she threw in the papers as an after thought (sad that she threw them with such determination at the scrambled egg but I brushed it of) I noticed that tomorrow is Halloween, umm must get Moony to sit in her deckchair on the lawn. She has to pay her way and she really is a cheap decoration, not that we get many trick or treaters. I don't know why, I make all the sweets and biscuits myself. But if it's Halloween tomorrow then its time to review the catalogues that I get through my door each day for those little surprise gifts. For Charlie and Henny I usually pick a gift from the past times catalogue, I find their Carolinian Christmas gifts particularly suitable though I confess that I never knew they had record racks in those days.... Maybe a Stilton spoon, or I think Charlie could look rather lovely in the Stuart brocade dressing-gown easy wash so that's a plus with Christmas dinner! The British museum sell Egyptian re-pos that have a smaller price tag than the originals but look nice on Moony's dressing-table. Where do I get Bramwells presents from? Well my dear up until now I've kept that a closely guarded secret (I didn't want to spoil the poor wee mites Christmas for him) When he was very young I used to be very influenced by what he had "written to Santa for..." such as patchwork pieces and crochet yarn, in recent years though I've been buying them from a lovely boutique in Purple Sprouting. They stock all sorts of pretty things, Lovely shepherdess lamps, musical boxes, 50's style box handbags. He adores them and I just love phoning them up, we can chat for hours. Marina their secretary is such a sweet girl as are Louis and Alphonse who came all the way from Switzerland they yodel so well that I suggested that they replace their shop bell with a tape of it. They went one better and turned the shop front into a cheerful little chalet, yodelling and all. Even the assistants are dressed as milk maids. Ohh one can be so very impressed on a visit there.
So as I crunched my toast (shocking I almost lost a tooth) and spooned in my tea (much to thick to drink) I flicked through their catalogue. Now be frank, tell me do you think that Bramwell would prefer a revolving Christmas tree lamp that projects Santa and his sleigh onto the walls and ceiling in lifelike fashion. Or would he prefer the complete Babycham bar set? I don't know, it does include glasses, deer shaped ice bucket and cocktail shaker and those weird plastic sticks that you stir cocktails with.
I shall muse upon that for a little while, after all more pressing, tomorrow I must tootle down to the W.I. Where we shall be discussing such large and unwieldy questions as what shall we do for the harvest festival, mayors fair and Christmas panto? Ohh what with this tea and all these questions I might just snuggle down and have a little longer in bed.... Do not tell Moony... But what with the weather... One does feel so awfully snug and drowsy in bed. Good Night my dears..... YYYY aaaa WWW Nnnn............

Another page from Mrs Nito's diary

( Click to read in more detail. )

Tea in the garden with Moony....

I think I must explain my dear that the below picture is a page torn from my diary. I thought you really ought to see the thought processes that go into my posts here... The hard work and of course my drawings and photographs.

This afternoon with the scent of delicious moist grass in our nostrils and an enormous supply of rich tea things which I had been baking (jammy tea things I can't think how they made their money but Mooney insists that they are rich) we decided to take tea on the lawn of our little abode. I left Moony to boil the tea whilst I laid out the picnic chairs and table, not long then before I heard screams from the kitchen and knew that a full pot would soon be on the way. Moony emerged smoking and frazzled ( I don't mean cigarettes she was quite literally smoking) so of course I did what anyone would and damped her down. "Thank-You dear she said, it's this damned Russian caravan, terribly smoky!" "No wonder dear tea is meant to be made from leaves not Russian caravans. Anyway what did you do with the inhabitants?" Moony sighed and shrugged. "Never mind dear, they aren't in there now. " Umm I dare say they moved into a semi, no one wants to keep up the old traditions these days. We were really enjoying our tea when suddenly a tiny wrinkled head poked through our hedge at first I thought it must be Neff and then as the body appeared I realised it was a tortoise. A whole herd of them followed, slowly plodding across the lawn towards us. Moony stared at them in dismay "Not another bl***y plague, the locusts were the absolute limit! " Sometimes I don't know what she means. I looked in the direction they had come, no clues. I looked in the direction that they hadn't come still no clues. Meanwhile Moony was carrying on her banshee wail of aggrieved superstition, I ignored her and scooped one up. It looked at me with wise intelligent eyes, it looked at Moony and I'm sure it shivered. I offered it a bit of tea cake and it munched it down. Not many people like my speciality tea cake and this little tortoise did, I could tell he came from a line of breeding and distinction. So I gave him a little more, whilst Moony chastised me for it. "Ahh you give them an inch dear they will take a mile, just like my plastic surgeon. Sucked all the fat out. I'm suing him for incompetence. I told him I wanted to be pert and young again.... Tortoises are the exact bl***y same... Beggers!!" There is an art to ignoring Moony and I am well versed in it, so well I often think I should write a book. Anyhoo at this moment Henny hurtled through the hedge with a thump and shrieked "Zere Zere Ze are... Ahh clever but non clever enough to evade Mrs Henrietta Maria ,Queen of Angland." Charlie peeped up over the top of the hedge as Henny tried to herd the tortoises back through it. " Cooom Onn You Loot My Grindchildren wall be woundering weir vous as goott to.........." I smiled with surprise "Ohh Henny are they visiting, I did not know or I would have brought these straight back." "Donut wurry Mrs Nito, I is gotting zem back noo...... As zee been any bozer to vous.?" "Ohh no!" I squeeled "This one in particular has been awfully nice, he rather likes my cooking!" Henny's hair stood on end. "Do vous want to kep him as a token offff our gratedtude zat non arm as come to them?" I thought for a moment and looked down at the tortoise I already thought of as Cedric.... I had no hesitation..... Moony get on with building that hutch, Cedric can't live in the record cupbord forever. He's already eaten Andy Williams... No of course not the real Andy Williams.... No it isn't much of one is it, hit it a bit harder.... Ohhh shall I get some ice for you dear.....

Wakey , wakey at the home.

Really it was Mrs Mooney's day to work at the home but the residents always cry at the mention of her name . Ivan ( Bramwell's partner ) had come to trim the lawn and help out a bit. He started by shaving Mary who he said was talking in a strange voice. Audrey likes her hair done in a large quiff ( the poor "girl"is so thin we lost her in the bath and I was afraid she'd gone down the plughole until we saw a white streak outside the window and heard Gwenny scream as he/she pinched her bum. Ivan went out with the net and soon "she" was looking very smart. Beth was lighting a cigarette which is against the rules inside the house so we put her out ....on the lawn . Ivan went off to make tea and found Mary making a brew which again is against rules as she might burn herself . She tried to force a scone onto Ivan who had no truck with that and carried her into the breakfast room and bound her to the chair ( alas I don't think we'd pass inspection but Mary looked pleased ). Beth got very annoyed as to why she couldn't be tied up too. I had to say "But you havn't been naughty dear ". The next moment I looked up to see Beth trying to shove boiled eggy into Gwenny's mouth just so he could be tied up. Mary started crying and calling for a jerry so Ivan took her to the lavatory which didn't help much. "She "kept mumbling about an irishman in a most un p.c way. I shall have a talk to her about calling people of Irish extraction "Micks" .Is it any wonder , she'll be reading "The Daily mail" next. Audrey got upset again and started shouting socialist poems at Mary who was now muttering "I've never met a miner" in an incoherant way. Ivan snarled at her and she went quiet. Beth gave Mary a kiss and started a fight with Audrey , luckily no-one has a weight advantage with those too. Gwenny , our little peacemaker told them that all the residents should love each other setting Mary off singing "Fool for Love" at which Audrey shouted "Fool oh aye I'd reckon that's aboot right you class traitor ". Ivan dragged Audrey into the garden where he gave her some clootie pudding and "she settled down" . Mary being the oldest had to go for a nap and Gwenny ( my angel) went off to read "Great Expectations" to "her" . It was quiet for a few blissful moments and Beth started scribbling in her ancient notebook we can't part her from , possibly part 69 of her auto-biography .
It was time to start lunch and today was chicken soup .As I worked in the kitchen I looked up to see Audrey stark naked again peering in the window , I van was timming the roses and I saw a near dreadful accident as Audrey ran past too close to shears .The next thing I knew was Mary was driving the lawnmower up and down the lawn in her nightie .By the time night shift arrived I was exhausted but Mrs Arbuthnott takes no truck and they all sleep in tight sleeping bags with quick ejector buttons in case of fire and she keeps a whip handy which brings a smile to Beth's face but will never be used they'd all like it too much.

Home for retired entertainers of absent minds...

On this un-summery day had you been peeking through your net curtains (Henny naughty girl that's our job, we'll not see you cornering the market in gossip) you would have seen me mounting my trusted Raleigh bicycle and setting off with a squeak at first and then that wonderful whoosh that comes of riding downhill. Where was I heading of to you might ask, you might well and as my mother used to tell me "don't ask is also don't get". No truer word ever spoken but that doesn't mean that if you ask one of those nice men in Busbies, if you could possibly be the Queen ,that you won't be arrested. But enough of trifles...flans, meringues ohh and those odd little ones that go round and round and contain raisins.... Sorry my mind wonders so.... I was on my way to our latest charitable doing, at the juncture of this world and your world (it all gets so awfully like that programme with the man in the yellow jumper sometimes -not his colour, too figure hugging- now what was that called... Star.....umm Trek that's right) . Its in this little anti - room so to speak that we have a little nursing home for elderly theatricals and singers, "Crotchet, Quaver and Corpse "... Some of whom ,and here I must be delicate, have forgotten who they are indeed many are a little confused as to their own gender.... I'm not a one to make pets of people I'm sure you all know that by now, but ohh dear I confess there are four rather dear to my heart. "Mary" He/She used to be a singer but now thinks she's a housewife.... "Audrey" Used to have a long running T.V series of his/her own but much too old now, likes little black dresses...... "Beth" Like the flame haired queen, temperamental and no doubt they are related, she smokes something that isn't tobacco but makes one feel rather good about ones self.... Lastly "Gwendolyn" thankfully she wasn't born a girl or what a disappointment for the parents. Now they are all awfully sweet. Mary keeps making me lovely cakes with Beth's help and they are delicious although I often find I don't even remember eating them, perhaps we have mice? This morning I'm afraid things were not particularly smooth when I got there, chaos reigned. Audrey (a committed socialist, and never very far from actually being committed - she will try to drive herself-) had set Mary's copy of the Telegraph alight.... I share her views but not the right way to go about it. Mary was beside herself which is harder than it looks, comforting herself by singing hits from her old albums which just made everyone else well....distraught and Mary a touch sweaty. So sweaty in fact that when I turned to her she seemed to be crying spiders, Beth ever superstitious had fled the room but they turned out to be Mary's false eyelashes (always a problem, why as cook could tell you they caused an incident at Christmas when they fell in the soup and one now lives as a result in London Zoos fine arachnid house as yet not zoologically classified ) I stuck 'em back on just as Beth returned with a cake. It must have been very good as we were all so happy afterwards, playing games although what they were I don't know.... Strange that. Still lovely "girls" I wouldn't be without them.... I think I'll buy Mary a fire extinguisher though or a subscription to the Independent.... Night, Night... Ohh my hot water bottles turned into an owl.....

Dear Doris settles in to her new sea-side villa.

Poor dear Holly and her Mum and family lost their Mum and granny last month. When I say "lost" of course she was safe with us . We had a few weeks to get her sea-side home decorated in a style she would like. We added a beach hut down on the coast for her . If she looks out of her top window she has a wonderful view of the sea and the smell of ozone . We also shopped for some rather expensive wool for her as she could not afford it down there. A comfy chair and a basket by a lovely fireplace was added. She has three bedrooms so can easily invite family over to stay . As she had always been a bicycle rider in her youth we popped a lovely one in the shed. A relative called Bill had put in runner beans and sweet williams . Charlie has promised to pop over and do some regular gardening but her father will help when not in his own shed. We had to be very strong with her brother Ron or she'd have found model railway tracks all over. Luckily he runs the mini-railway for the kiddies who passed over to us in infancy. Henny's Ann likes to go on the trains as often as possible. We had lovely photos of her children ( well as lovely as they could look poor dears not having Mooney's looks). on her mantel. Mr Smithson popped in to welcome her ( you lot all know him as Jesus). Luzbel wanted to but one look from Mr S. and he shuffled off.

We would like to assure Doris's family that Mrs Mooney took her to get some very nice clothes , a lot of Liberty prints I see Doris ! Treacle and Mr Enjy along with Pete Pilchard are now homed back with "Mum" .I think she was happy when we showed her the viewing screen in the library so she can see what those girls are up to. Angie it seems has bought more yarn on E:Bay . We waved as we left and Henny has reported that she popped in .Doris was a bit surprised then remembered Angie loved her. They hit it off rather well in fact so Henny will be taking some of her herbal waters over next visit. The President surprised the poor woman when he went to welcome her along with "Barbie" ...I dare say she blames Angie again or as she told us "Andy Pandy" so called after a puppet show she loved .

Ahh how Moony and I love popping down to the cinema to watch the newsreels.....

As Ollie and Charlie head down to the pub...

Ollie "I didn't know Henny had ever posed for page three!"
Charlie "Och nay you know those paparazzi they snuck in whilst she was rehearsing for one of her masques, mind you I must say they got her best side. Think is I wish she'd stop knitting."

leaves from the diary of Mrs J.G.Nito (age unknown)

As I stepped from my cottage this morning, leaving Moony slumped at the breakfast table with a copy of the Hieroglyphic times pushed into her hands. No doubt when she wakes up from her pre-breakfast mind sharpener she'll be keen to see the headline concerning falling locust prices. I considered giving Bunny his walkies but noticing him through the window digging up moles (now I know where Moonys new super soft slippers come from) I thought better of my plan. Charitable soul that I am, I'm not that charitable. Anyway where was I...Ohh yes just stepping out, into the teeth of a terrible gale. I must say the wind had picked up something terrible and I was quite pushed aback by it. It was whilst I was standing there blasted back that I saw Henny executing the most extraordinary spectacle. Umbrella open before her, feet adorned with roller skates she was quite literally windsurfing her way to the shops, as Charlie cycled behind her. They both waved Henny wobbled and then picked up speed, shooting off faster than my eyes could keep up. Poor Charlie had to cycle like a maniac to catch up with her, and once the wind was behind him ohh he flew like a veritable bird. I can't think which sort at the moment, but something proud, red and very very cold (I think perhaps the famous Grouse a bird with which I have become all to familiar since Moony took the extraordinary liberty of moving into my House in my "hour of need " (since that day I have been very cautious of saying "well I could do with a little help" such an innocent little thing to say, such awful consequences). As you might suspect though I had not come out to stand on my own doorstep, charming well kept doorstep though it is. What I had actually intended to do was get down to the green grocers I seem to be down to my last barrel of Brussels Sprouts after I held a rather nice dinner and piano party last weekend. As the vicar said as he left "First you made us all go quite mad with you playing then you made us all go quite green with your menu." Touching isn't it? I suppose he meant that he was envious of my culinary delights but of course he shouldn't be, my methods are something I don't mind sharing, especially if they bring pleasure to many. You'll be glad to know that I made it down the road and into the shop. Clearly I was not the only one who had had to overcome the weather in order to get there. Whilst I was making my careful selection of teas ( I like a subdued flavour where as Moony likes hers strong dark and powerful, she also likes her tea that way too.) Whilst perusing the many packets on offer I came across Ida and Mary stocking up on Russian caravan and herbal infusions. Somehow I ended up agreeing to come by that evening to commune in "new and powerful ways with the other side" They were being more than usually mysterious which for them is almost inconceivable and were a few people short of a seance. Ida kept swaying and squeaking that all would be revealed by new processes beyond the hitherto inexplicable realms of human imagination. Other than that I suspect that their milliner has lost what little grasp of sanity he had before, the creations that they sported were really something else, especially Mary's. So it was that as the sky darkened and with the wind showing no sign of letting up, I was to be found at my dressing table applying my make-up. I always like to put my best face forward, unlike Moony who settles for panda eyes and a wobbly gash of lipstick. The lovely picture above shows me at my dressing-table. The robe I am wearing is a souvenir of my time in China, have I really never told you about that my dears....? Ohh well some day I'm sure I will, It was before I met Woger and as you all know I am so absent minded.... Of course I had meant to go to to the Isle of Wight where I was set to inherit my great uncle Usted B. Rotherhams lovely hotel at Crumbly Cliff said to be haunted by the ghost of a particular royal whose acquaintance I have now made in better circumstances and who assures me that he wouldn't bother. A frightful flea pit he tells me.... But I digress and Moony is cranking up the car. I must slip into something appropriate and be away my dears... Of course I couldn't resist this lovely picture of my outfit (myself in the pink ladies, Moony in the yellow, its an awful colour on her but she will insist. I told her about Ida and Mary's hats so she plonked this one on and announced "No one can out do this, No one!" I rather think she is right). When we arrived at Ida and Marys house we immediately noticed the fairy lights strung at the windows and Chinese lanterns around the door, they must be awfully excited about their new breakthrough. Mrs Bagshott-Smyth was chaining her bicycle up to the fence and the Vicar and Mrs Pine-Coffin (his lovely wife) were pulling up at the curb. Henny, Charlie and Nell were milling about on the lawn. Ida threw open the door of the house for us with a loud cry of "Assssssssssshawahhaa!!!!!" A greeting she has devised all of her own and which if her mediation is to be believed has really taken of in the spirit world if not this one. In order to perform this greeting properly one must stand on one foot and waggle your eyebrows athletically before clapping ones hands above ones head and bringing them forward quickly for another louder clap, jump back and bow deeply whilst shaking hands. Its a curious greeting and since it was "revealed" to her has led to a down turn in visitors to her house. Once we had come in she led us to the drawing-room (don't know why its called that, no drawings) and seated us on the sofa, drinks were offered and hers always have a curious flavour but one feels so much better after a few sips. The lights lowered, a tinkle of little bells and then Mary appeared carrying a mystery object covered in a cloth which she placed carlfully on the coffee table. Ida produced a little gong and banged it several times whilst Mary threw scented oils over the object and crashed cymbals together. The cloth was removed to reveal.... A goldfish bowl, repleat with goldfish. Ida and Mary sat either side of it and gently tapped the glass before turning back to us. "Goldfish we have discovered through a process of unique scientific calculation and psycic examination are uniquely sensitive to the delicate vibrations of the spirits all around us. Also earwigs but they... were not viable as a psycic link. Phillip on the other hand." Here they gestured at the goldfish. "Is especially sensitive. He uses a series of bubbles on the water and coloured flags operated by mouth to relay his discoveries to Mary who relays them to me by means of matchstick pictures. This you must understand is the clearest way to understand these messages. I will then tell you his revelations in the spoken language with which you will be most familiar....It helps if you all join hands! Assssssssssshawahhaa!!!!!".

Over the next two hours we discoverd the power of Phillips gift, a new way of removing sticky lables from glass, how to peel an onion without crying, what Mrs Pine-Coffin's mother thought the results would be at ascot, where Mrs Bagshott-Smyth's aunt Augustine had hidden the fish knives and I recieved a touching message from Woger. " Leave the topiary as it was I rather like seeing it as I go past." Ohh he must be looking down. By the time we left we were edified and not a little wiser. A wonderful way to pass an evening.

Rupert Everett gets a special pass...........at........

by Bramwell but that's another story and poor Brammy was wrestled to the ground by The King's Lifeguard ( i.e Prince Rupert..which he quite enjoyed). As we were having a premiere of St. Trinians we asked the landlord ( a Mr God) for a special pass for Mr Everett . We had the whole cinema decked in "Juicy Coutre" ribbon and a large set of buck teeth for donations to Mr Everett's aids work. He arrived on his bicycle from the station not the limo we'd expected but he's a bit green now ( Mrs Nito IS pleased).He was really super in person in fact Harlot fainted and Mooney made a grab that I managed to deflect in time . I explained his preferences later. He had the best seat ( the one without the fleas) and a free cone . Alas he hasn't given up the dreaded weed ( and I DO mean weed...wink, wink) so we were all very happy when we staggered out . He asked where the nearest Gay club was so we took him to the back of "The Full Moon and Lunatic ". He didn't seem very happy until Ivan and Brammy arrived and suggested he'd prefer "The Ruby Slipper" . We older ones sent them off and do you know we had the most charming thank-you letter and several copies of "Dahling are You Working?" ...what a vivid imagination!

This is how the poor man's back was after wearing ladie's court shoes during filming .Mrs Bagshot-Smyth soon straightened him up ( pardon the pun).

Arbathnot Towers.

Our local lord of the Manor lives here,his darling lady wife also used to reside in this stately home,known to be one of the worlds smallest but she mysteriously vanished two years ago and now he seems to have found what we belive to be the new Mrs Arbathnot-Nut. Of course like many stately homes the Arbathnot-Nuts have

had to open to the public and as the sign out front says" For tours please enquire with the cat, ghosts are extra". The cat (Sebastapol) turned out to be a surprisingly good tour guide once he had a little golf buggy and a tape recorded history he was away. But since Sebastapol is at the vets at the moment after being hit by a tour bus he was attempting to meet on the drive way, I have taken over. One thing I must say for the Arbathnot-Nuts home one does not want to be alone there at night. I'm saying nothing bad about the ghosts not that they aren't all on the take...but still. well anyway, I'd better get on with the tour, please do not take any of the inhabitants personal effects. There is a gift shop, you will enjoy the Wars of the Roses chess set and I have five of the little pens (so funny, shaped like Mary Queen of Scots you just unscrew the head to write). Now as we enter through the great front gates, no there is nothing special about them that's just how they are listed. Isnt this a rather lovely keep not much use in a place this small but still, on we go ahh now here we come to the hallway. Isn't it special, the small table on your right was made out of the wooden legs of soldiers from the Napolionic wars I'm afraid it wobbles a bit apparently they weren't all the same height ,across the way there is a portrait of the first Lord Arbathnot-Nut there are nausea capsules available but if you have a weak heart please don't look directly at it. No, no he wasn't a looker but he was terribly ruthless.Moving on now ,on the grand staircase which you may find just grand (little joke my dears) we have some more portraits note the family nose, its a wonder they could lift their heads and the canvases will get bigger as the silly beggers kept marrying really tall women . The family maintain that this early 15th century portrait proves that they have a prior claim to Lord Cardigan's idea and a prior patent on the Marks & Spencers design. Yes it does rather clash with the cod piece and breeches but it shows a lot of inspiration. Now the stately bedroom which has sheltered Queen Elizabeth I, King James I (its believed that the bites in the matress date from that time and were almost certainly all his own work ), Cromwell (notes on world domination scrawled on the back of the bathroom door are in his handwriting), CharlesII (the stains in the corner are his), Queen Anne (after her visit a specialist bed mender had to be called in ), Queen Victoria, and King Edward VIII (the other stains). The Arbahtnot-Nuts like to maintain their privacy so we will be going back downstairs where we can observe the great hall home of many a lavish banquet and where the family entertained King Henry IX, they still find chicken bones behind the cabinets. Ahh here it is, very long table isn't it, I see lord Arbathnot-Nut has left some of his campaign leaflets on the table. He's standing as an independent on a platform of free spam for all and no taxes on himself. Now one last stop the kitchens where we will see a re-enactment of traditional breadmaking....

We thought you might like to see the W.I ladies

I was going through my album in bed last night whilst Moony battened down the hatches (we've had such terrible wind here lately) and I came across this picture .I thought we'll I'll just have to pop that on. I had a little look at the back of the photo and so heres the label,reminding me of good times. "The ladies after a busy day of knitting socks for amputees". Ahh well I must go, something appears to be bubbling in my kitchen and Ido not recall putting anything on to boil, "Moony What Are You Doing!No put that... That is one of my best saucepans!What do you mean was !? Ohh goodness....Yes I can see it quite clearly for myself..."

Wassailing

Well my dears apart from Wednesday being a bit of a low point in poor Charlie’s calendar –he spent the whole day mopping around the pub wearing a roll neck jumper and burst into tears when Doris the barmaid told one of the locals “you’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on!!!” – We’ve been having a rather lovely time here. Moony and I went on a tinsy cruise down the Nile since Christmas, we got back on the 15th of January to find a little card pushed through the door which announced in shiny red letters.

Moony licked her lips and looked enthusiastic. I could not believe that I had forgotten our annual Wassail, Mrs Bagshott-Smyth and her women’s group will never forgive me. It’s one of their pet concerns and they prepare seriously to welcome the spirit of the harvest into our orchards. I usually enjoy this quaint village tradition provided that in driving the evil spirits out of my house none of my priceless figurines suffers (you know who you are “the duke of Brunswick” and I think that’s a ludicrous title for such a little monster.) Moony was looking even more excitable but I explained to her that unless she collected up the saucepans this year I simply wouldn’t be taking her, not after the last time. When I caught her eating the toast that Ida Batwing and dear little Mary had left as an offering to the apple trees, I can scarcely describe the embarrassment I felt! I must say I felt a little naughty at having come back the day before and in such a state, I had sand in everything! But I doubt you wish to know about that. I popped across to Charlie and Henny’s house just as soon as I thought that the coast might be clear, Charlie opened the door in his little “I’ve been executed and all they gave me was this crummy apron!” umm Apron. He was in very high spirits, covered in pastry and smelt suspiciously of cider. He giggled as he explained that he’d been baking, yes my dears and I expect that he’d found it necessary to sample the contents of his famous wassail pasties (they may taste innocent my dear but they are the devil in disguise). Henny was perched by the radio laughing at some comedy or other; I think it might have been called the Goons or the Gones or something. When I came in she giggled and wiggled her legs as she turned of the dial “Ohh Mrs Nutto Ze has ziz radio progam an ze does… Umm how you zay ‘is fallon in ze vater!’ an ann and Bud and Min!!!! Is zooo vunny ! Like you and moses Moony!!! Vous like it Chillie non???” Charlie pulled a chair out for me and nodded. “Ochh Aye very like the lassies ehh!” I have no idea what they meant bless them but Henny quickly noted my newly acquired tan. “Ohh Mrs Nutto Vous has gone all like a man on zee telly… Ohh wat ze call ze tan.” I was awfully flattered of course, I'd spent quite a while out on the deck playing coits to get that darker green... I had to confess to them that I had quite forgotten about our little merry making amongst the trees and as a result I wouldn't have much to contribute to the general food and drink side of things. "Ohhh but vous must as some off our lambs wooool what Chilli pot in zee what is it called solar downstairs... Umm non Cellar..! But are ze non zee zame zing?" Frankly I wasn't at all sure that Henny had the right end of the stick or in fact any sort of clue at all. "No no Henny" I said "I dont think that wool will make any sort of substitute for a nice punch even if it is merino." Ohh my how they laughed, poor Charlie fell of his armchair laughing and didn't seem to be able to regain his composure. It turns out that what they intended me to give my guests was a spicy, bubbly, cider drink to which you just add heat. I left them with a lighter heart and a considerably lighter step after Charlie gave me a practical demonstration. I took the long way home so I could get the paper and spied Ida and Mary by the duck pond, they were dusting down Idas considerable collection of wassailing cups. They invited me to join them but I sweetly declined. Frankly Ida has explained her collection to me before and I don't belive that I've spent an odder afternoon in anyone's company. Moony was attempting to scour the cellar for any old cordials, fruit wines and preserves that we might have laid up last year, she had found a few bottles but many of them seemed suspiciously half full and Moony smelt of sloe's and damson. Still as they told me so often at my school "it's the effort that counts Juanita." or in this case it was Moonys effort that counted. We tried to get a good nights sleep but one can hear Moony's snoring so awfully through our rather thin little walls. I should say that I was up and about at a delightful hour the same can not be said for poor dear Moony. When Charlie came over with the car however she was mercifully up and dressed, so interestingly was Henny. I might add that its not interesting that Henny was dressed but what she was wearing. A dress that captured the essence of christmas tradition, or a walking Christmas tree I couldn't decide. The villagers were setting off from the town hall as usual, although the Mayor can't really come due to his health problems. Harlot stays behind to keep him "company".
The going door to door only had one little hitch we were all outside it turned out so of course there was no one to let us in. Sadly we only realised the problem after the third house we tried when Mrs Cuthbert remembered that that was her house and she'd have to go back in to let us in. And we had thought that all our neighbours had suddenly become rather impolite. Ohh well as long as we remembered to let ourselves in we were alright. Thankfully Moony and I had taken the precaution to take all our ornaments down to the basement or I shudder to think what might have happened.... We entered into the spirit of the thing banging our pots and pans (le Creuset excepted) and shouting our heads off. On the way up to Farmer Ramsbodie's farm to bless his lovely orchard, we met up with Mrs Bagshott-Smyth who had managed to array herself in an awful lot of what appeared to be plaster-of-Paris apples some terribly familiar looking curtains. I think I saw Mrs Arbathnot-Nut donate them to the charity shop only last month, not of course that I said anything she can be terrible sensitive. But as she will always tell you she is sensitive to so much more than the rest of us, i'm not so sure about that. She does not know that we find her performance art deeply boring, in fact I noticed that several people turned back muttering "Remember that Winter thing? Never again!" Ahh well I'm a girl who will just hang on in there as our G.I's like to say. We got up to the apple Orchard and discovered Farmer Ramsbodies and his mysteriously fluffy wife sitting on a set of deckchairs with what I might call the worlds largest barrel of Cider. Moony kept very close to it even talking about Mrs Ramsbodies knitting so as to be close to it (that dear lady never runs out of yarns but I've never seen her in the yarn shop how odd?). The rest of us got to work, singing the songs our grandparents taught us, sadly my grangdma only taught me to sing "Iwish I'd looked after my teeth". So I am always at a disadvantage.