Thursday, July 21, 2011

A Walk in the park...

Hello my dears, so nice of you to pop in to my blog.
I' was just writing up my diary, how it casts my mind, back, back....
About yesterday afternoon, I'd just been rather busy in my study that morning, writing the latest instalment of a serial for the Cutting Herald, our local paper. but immersing myself in my little world can be very draining and I'd just emerged to restock my energy reserves with some of Moony's special blend coffee. I have tried other brands but nothing else makes one feel quite so.... Or see so many thinks. Anyway as I was shutting my study door I heard laughter coming from our sitting room, rather as if Moony was entertaining a lively German guest. Funny I thought to myself, I haven't even poured the coffee yet let alone drunk it, so that must be quite real!!! Ohh dear i hoped she hadn't got one of her gentleman friends in i always feel like a third wheel and I ask you where is one to get one at this time of day?
I hastened down the hall, delighted as I flung open the door to see that the garden was still there, then I flung open the sitting room door. There was Moony and Wupert of the Whine, our dear neighbour, he told me he had popped in for a cup of sugar and they'd gotten talking. About my serial as it happens, I can't think why I thought I heard laughter then after all my serial is a heartrending story of love and disaster. I must say Wupert has changed he seemed to have got a crew cut and i hoped he wasn't going to implicate Bunny's fleas, there were far to few last time we did a head count and I do dread a repeat of the boating trip flea disaster. He said nothing so I said nothing. I should have thought he'd have got them from his own dog, rather unimaginatively called Boy. It was lying on the sofa beside him and to look at it I would have said it was dead! Well it moved about as much, and it looked as if the moths had got to it. Again I said nothing, maybe it was ill or he had yet to accept it and move on. But whilst he was in the loo and moony was making tea later I decided to test my theory by taking it for a walk. I sprayed Bunny's collar with flea spray and clipped it on, donned my coat and out we swept. I can't say I felt confident, by the time we got to the high street there was still no sign of life - or err, whatever it is we have, I'm really not sure- most dogs are all over the place, sniffing and worrying things -I blame the recession- but Boy wasn't doing anything. On to the park where I let him of the leash, to my horror he just lay there.... Ohh dear! I sat on the bench, read the headlines from the local paper, read the sports pages even though I didn't know what it was all about, too much about inside leg spins for my taste- its not a tabloid- and the letters page, one kind person said they had never read anything like my serial, and they hoped it would be over soon. How sweet, they must be dying to know whats happening! After a while embarrassed I re attached the lead and began to walk back.
When I got in they both seemed to be looking for something, the dog I guessed.
'I'm so sorry to tell you Wopert, Boy's.... Well I think he's on the other side now....'
'Ja I know, the other side of the fence, I left him at home'
I sadly raised what was on the end of the leash.
'I don't think so, he's....'
I was baffled when Wopert started to laugh, ohh the grief must be terrible.
'That's not Boy!'
'I know.' I said. 'It feels like that when the life goes out of them....'
'No that isn't it Mrs Nito.... That's my periwig!!!'
With that he took it and put it on his head, suddenly there were his usual dark curls, a little bedraggled after their walk. Ohhh!!! I felt rather silly then.... Still um alls well that ends well... But you know I would never have guessed he wore a wig!!!

Monday, July 18, 2011

Dear friends and readers .

I know I have neglected my site of late . What can I say ? Your hearts must be broken. I have worked too long on my latest novel and peculiar story .It is based on my late husband Woger's last fateful day . I must say no more but you will be stunned by the end . I was stunned by an end yesterday . It was the end of a large somewhat charred log. It would appear that my "dear" fiend Mooney has been pulling the wood over my eyes . I have sat many an evening by the side of the old drunk having some very wooden conversations . I know how drunk she gets so her lack of answers was not really a surprise . Saturday evening I sat late listening to the wireless ( no bloody wonder it hasn't worked so long ). I knitted a lovely cardigan for my friend Henrietta ( I shall have to explain Lord Cardigan to her). It got to midnight and I was tired so suggested we go to beddy-byes . As usual she was silent so I tucked her blanket around her and stoked up the fire . I was just falling asleep dreaming of a delicious plate of sprouts when I heard a scuffle downstairs and hushed voices . Maybe Mooney was talking to herself ( she's mad enough) . I realised there were several voices so I grabbed my old brass door stop of The World's largest sprout and tip-toed downstairs . What I saw shocked me to the very core .Charlie and his nefarious nephew Wopert were holding a large charred log and giggling .This is not that unusual for them but there standing in her finest gold muslin was Mooney leaning on Ollie's arm drunk as a skunk as usual . The log was pushed behind Mooney's throne and she thanked them all and shut the door. I hid behind the old bureau on the stairs . As Mooney walked past I said loudly " nice evening out dear?" . Mooney turned sharply and screamed .Oh so you have been sneaking out all this time behind my back, how was I supposed to tell the difference between you and a log ? I beg your pardon Nito that was cutting she shouted .I have merely been helping out the household finances by appearing in a freak show as "The oldest living , well dead , woman known " . I have had to stand as some oiks poked me ,ME a living God . My only reward a barrel of Gin and sometimes as much as £50.00s but that's if I throw in a bit of lap dancing . Mooney started to sob and gin ran down her dry little face . So , readers, all I could do was hug her and tuck the poor tired old thing into bed. She is in her moisturising bath now. So you will understand why I am writing again I simply can't have my oldest and dearest fiend making an exhibition of herself unless it's at The British Museum of course .