Further leaves from the Diary of Juanita Nito resident of Cutting Sprout....

Hello my dears, my hasn't it been snowing even in our little corner, the village green has turned into well, a village white! Ha, ha! I've just been writing my weekly article for the local paper, 'a day in the Trousers of...' as regular readers know last week I spent a day in the trousers of William Shakespeare. He claims they're the exact same ones in which he wrote Romeo and Juliet, but really did they even have jogging bottoms then? At least they were in better condition than the trousers of Michelangelo (they were the ones he painted the Sistine Chapel in and no I don't think he changed them in all that time!). This week I spent a day in the trousers of my dear friend Mrs Cox, she was taking them up ( where I never ascertained) and had left them on the sofa. I spotted an opportunity, wrapped them round myself and fell asleep. Voila I had my article! I must say they were very soft and very green.... I might just not return them ....
Anyway last night my dears I went down to the meeting for the preparation of this years nativity play, we have our cast but alas not yet our style. Harold Pinter made a few suggestions but no one was very keen. Mind you so did Henny, and I must say they are more tempting but a little umm theatrical? After a flurry of debate and much pushing in by Mrs Bagshott- Smyth who wanted it to reflect the pre-existing pagan mythology which fed into the legends of Christmas and the presence of hay sprites actually in the manger, Mrs Barnstorm, who wanted a hand painted distress effect stable with elements of antique Victorian tiles ( she could get us some from a salvage yard) and Che who reckoned that we blow the whole thing open, reveal the lie, the capitalist conspiracy. Umm wasn't sure about that at all!
Still as you know a little pinch of this and that all adds up and in the end we had a play that had elements from all of us, even my sprout dance troupe and Sebastopol's cat wise man. I'll tell you how things turn out, but it will be different.
We also agreed that Charlie should take control of the poster, last year we let Picasso paint it and no one came to our first performance. No one knew what it was about. So here is this year's poster, no s's but it's very...Umm stylish. See you all soon. Mrs Snoo T.Cow is on the T.V and i want to have a laugh!

A little pre-Christmas handicraft sale.

It wasn't meant to be a normal W.I day today and it most certainly wasn't.

The whole village was meant to make gifts worth buying and giving to those you love,obviously they hate quite a lot of people. The President had a go at scrimshaw with a bone his dog dug up ,threw up I'd say. I didn't know what it was until Barbie told me it was a lighthouse from Massofchewsits .That explains the chewed up look.Cromwell bought it ,God knows who for .

Henrietta had bottled some of her perfumed waters ( the ones from giving birth I think). They smelt awful to me but Mooney bought the lot . It was only later I found out Henny uses Vodka instead of perfumer's alcohol.When I got home from locking up the hall Mooney was blated on the floor witha huge smile on her face.

Neff had made some felt hats but boiled after sewing so they could only be used as egg cups but then no-one has a head that tall anyhow.

Che had hand-written some lovely poems ( so he says) in cute little note-books with him on. The main trouble is they were in Spanish and a few in French much to Henny's delight.

Charlie had knitted some tartan socks with six toes and two lovely neckwarmers which he bought for himself and his granny , Mary . I bought the wristlets for Che's Christmas to cover up the stitch marks.

Mr Misery had made barbed wire underpants which Charlie bought to keep the bunnies off his allotment .

Bramwell had embroidered some mobile phone covers ,pity we only have landlines.

Ivan had made some lovely wooden sugar bowls all painted with Chinese pictures ( don't ask). Sebastapol had made first-aid kits for the rougher kind of cat that gets it's head stuck in tins.

Nell had made corsets for the larger lady in your life or as bicycle baskets they'd be quite dashing one cup either side of your handle-bars.

Jamesiypoo had made packets of thorns to run through your tongue in consultation with my brother Luzbel ( well we have Aztec blood and he like a bit of flagellation).

Dear Doris had made oven-gloves guaranteed to leave burns every time you used them.

Harlot Harley had made silk draws out of an American parachute and some silk she bought from Mao-Tse-Tung who had popped over to see Che in his new job as a cloth merchant ( very popular with Nell).

Camillo ( Che's mate or should I say Mate ...'orrible Argie tea!) had rolled some herbal cigars, that were very popular, from those funny plants on his allotment. Che had one and spent the day giggling like a school-girl and chasing Henny until Hilda marched in with her Peruvian hats ( God knows who'd want them).

Charlie II's horrible kiddies had made oranges stuck with cloves and models of Grandpa's execution.

The Vicar had made Christmas card with bunnies and ghouls on ( not sure he's in his right mind).

My contributions the highlight of the show , Sprout wine, pickles ,jam,sprouts in chocolate , sprouts in brandy and a lot of sprout biscuits for tea-break which Charlie II's kiddies threw at everyone .

Henny's dear little Ann had made me a fimo sprout ( how I cried) .

We made quite a bit but I am sure I saw The President stuffing coins into the cash register .His father was furious about something and using a spanner to try to wrench it open when Cromys set a few members of The New Noodle Army on him ( Henny made that up ..it's good isn't it !!!).

I shall be in the embroiderers gazette...

Isn't that quite exciting, ever since dear Bramwell began to work for them as their out and about reporter I've been confident that I would get a mention but I was scarcely prepared to get a four page spread. Its all been rather exciting, ones cushions have been photographed, can you imagine and i have been encouraged to share one of my graphs with their readers. I wish they'd told me they wanted a cross stitch graph straight away and feel such a fool for sending then that one of Brussels Sprout distribution in the outer Hebrides.... Ohh well. Still I thought it wasn't fair for my loyal readership here to be deprived of some of my lovely embroidery ideas so I've enclosed a free style pattern you'll adore, for some reason I can't persuade the shops to stock my tapestry kits.

A magical mystery tour for teeth....

This morning finding very little else to do (there's only so many times that one can weld bunnys muzzle back together) we decided to treat ourselves to a day out with Mrs Cox who had to pop to the hospital to let a man look at her gnashers. Poor dear if its not one end its the other as Ive told her many times before you are lucky you are not eight sided or imagine the trouble you would have. Such as enticing possibility a visit to their local hospital, not a bit like our lovely little cottage hospital although i did notice on the way out that they had borrowed one little hint from us. The phantom organist though at "Cutting Sprout General (ly not too bad)" we prefer he plays "nearer my God than thee" or a little number all our own "For those in peril off the sea" . Still they have two things which we are only too envious about, firstly the giant motorised buggy's of doom which hurtle out of nowhere straight at you driven by a squinting and ancient driver and secondly our even bigger favourite the great mystery tour of 'find your department'. This is a game best played in pairs for comparison and team building reasons and is surprisingly difficult due to the many dead ends, misleading arrows and something called the 'league of fiends ' (surely it shouldn't be allowed for them to form their own leagues, what next football teams?). Well we did finally find the department for Maxil something or other, why ohh why will they only treat you if your name is max? We were going to put that on the form but Mrs Cox wouldn't let us help her fill it in. I was disappointed by how few giant abscesses there were , Mrs Cox had one years ago that made her look like Winston Churchill we even asked her to speak at the W.I. I must say though what a lot of odd people! There were some right exhibitionists (not just Moony) and an awfully strange Menage a tois that arrived later on, clearly heavily into bondage and very shifty looking. Though I'm as broad minded as the next person but there are limits as I said to Moony who simply cackled and said "unlike him I suppose you'd have to say that he was a 'Broadmoor' minded as the next person!" .
I really don't understand her sometimes. Mrs Coxe's procedure sounds promisingly messy so I'll probably go back for that, I only hope there are not any more weirdos in on the day. On the way out we passed another 'league of fiends outpost so I told them just what I thought, they just looked innocent and puzzled. I suppose they think that in this day and age there are not any right thinking people left to oppose them, think again Fiends!!!

Dear Mr. Che , funny name that.

On Saturday I popped over to the other side to watch Mrs Cox's new film ,"Che". It was very dull all green ( no what am I saying ?). A dull green and everyone kept fighting which was very , very naughty . Mrs Mooney tells me he lives in Verde el Fantastico so I invited him over for tea. He is obviously not a man with a vast wardrobe , that tatty old beret and khaki again with huge boots. He hasn't shaved for goodness knows how long and his hair is a mess.Mooney ( the know it all ) told me was Argentinian so I got in a nice tin of corned beef and she bought some horrible tea stuff called mate ( no mate of mine i can tell you ). After I boiled the water he pulled out a grenade so I grabbed it and hit the deck as I threw it out of the window .Mr Che shouted "hey that's my bombilla".That is none of my business but it's upstairs second on the right. "Lady you are loco" he said. I laughed at his little joke as I am clearly not a train. He then started coughing horribly all over my violet tea-set. These Argentines have no manners. Mooney said " hush the poor man has asthma". Oh that's what it was I like a spot of Earl Grey myself. He was starting to look a bit cross,devilish eyes you know. When I bought in the corned beef he started shouting in some foreign language and Mooney tried to calm him down . I wouldn't have wanted to be his Mum . He asked for mate again so I thought it must refer to the rug and slipped it under his feet. As I stood up I slipped and fell ,there was a crack and he flung me on the sofa shoving a bamboo stick in my mouth ( I knew he was mad). I am a doctor woman he yelled lay still you've twisted your ankle . I didn't want the treatment but his bedside manner was a bit rough and before you know it he was tearing up my best anti-macassar and tieing up my ankle. I have to say Argentine blokies could do with some grace . Mooney "oh for goodness sake Nito don't you know who he is , the man on the poster in my room". Well he's fooled you hasn't he because that man is clearly red .At this point he stormed out of the cottage . We really do have some odd people over here ,oh and did I mention the holes in his uniform . It's clear to me he has no little woman looking after him. Mooney said "oh yes he does ,his first wife". Well she is no needlewoman then. I pity his other wives when they arrive. The next day a sweet little lady arrived at the cottage to give me a right telling off about being rude to her "Papa" ...oh God they let him breed!