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 merry Cutting Christmas to all....

Hello my dears as you know I always enjoy the festive period so whilst I have been dreadfully busy lately I thought now was the season to update you on happenings Chez Nito.
Last night Moony and I perched on the couch to watch Mrs Snoo T. Cow's latest home make over show, their always worth the bother as one needs to laugh in these dark days. Tonight she showed us how to construct and decorate your own tree (I had always rather thought that trees grew) amongst the skills she felt that every housewife should master at this time of year were glass blowing and sock knitting. I could see Moonys eyes narrow until by the time the credits rolled they had disappeared and I assumed she'd fallen asleep. No such luck.
"Right" she shrieked as she staggered of the couch. "I'll show her!!! I bet I can make all that stuff!!! Better!!" Pausing for thought she murmured "except for the tree... We seem to have one already" Her eyes had alighted on the fine example Roopie Do had dragged in for us. Standing in all its green splendour in the corner as well as covering much of the carpet.
All night I could hear her tossing and turning in her sarcophagus, muttering ancient Egyptian epitaphs too shocking to report. This morning as I left for rehearsals of the Cutting Sprout players Christmas extravaganza - The Hound of the Basket Cases, by far the best Hiscox Maltravers mystery full of dark doings out on the moors. I play his landlady and rush on every now and then to shout "Ohh Lorks!!!" In the end I get inexplicably trampled by a herd of Zebras escaped from the zoo.- I saw Moony up on a chair taking down books from the "We got these for Christmas but were far too slapdash round the house to actually do this stuff ." This is where we keep our Delilah Smyth, Marbles Stewed-Harp and Jammy Oliveoil books Some of these have never been opened as the pictures on the front were far to scary, all iced fondant fancies and little frilly stockings by the fire. Moony has lots of these but not by the fire. "Aren't you a little festive sprite!" I commented. Moony stared at me. "I don't think I am a carbonated drink dear, you must take your pills."
I thought nothing more of it as I struggled into my costume. Henrietta may be many things but shes no seamstress! Fortunately I was able to tear open the arm holes, all four of them, how many arms does she think I have? Rehearsals went well and it was a good idea not to let Hitchcock direct again last years A Christmas Carol was a little too highbrow for this village and even Dickens couldn't help but boo us. Charlie does a wonderful ghost and amuses us in the intermission by juggling his head... I remember one year he lost it and had to go home with a cantaloupe melon on his neck...! Happy days! Mr Misery makes a suitable psychotic old retainer and Rupert really impresses as the detective! I admit I also went for a few cocktails with my fellow cast members at the Full Moon and Lunatic, I must remember never to have a whole stein of G&T but Rupert was ordering and one doesn't say no.
When I finally got home I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or not as Moony sat at the able blowing on one of our glasses. "Nito" She said in an angry voice " No matter how much you blow they don't change, I'm all out of puff!"
Well glass blowing may not be her thing but the other decorations turned out fine and the Vet says with ex lax Bunny will be just fine and all that salt dough should do too much harm.... Darn it!

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.

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............

A Merry Christmas my dear, as we pull our crackers and sip our Mulled wine were all thinking of you. So I thought that I'd include this Photo of Cutting Sprout at Christmas. I'll be back once the Christmas mayhem subdues itself to tell you how we got on this year but for now I think we may have carolers at the so toddle pip.... Ding Dong verily the sky is riven with angels singing......Glooooria

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

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).

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....

Cutting Sprout christmas post.

Ernie B. Del-ivered (post man)
I am afraid that my note hear is by way of sorry apology for it seems that on the night of the 27th december I was intrusted to deliver this christmas letter from your dear correspondent Mrs Nito. However I somehow found myself in the FullMoon & Lunatic (our local pub) and in the thrall of the charming Mrs Moony. I neglected to deliver this christmas salutation but all is corrected now I hope.


Mrs Nito
21 Nutting lane
Cutting Sprout
Veggieshire.
Hello my dears'
One and all, like our dear king you will find I make my annual Christmas address unlike the king I however can not command the powers of wireless and television to address, alas. Instead now I seat myself here at my desk on this charming Boxing day, Moony has nipped out and when I took a look at her receding figure outlined so clearly against the snow she seemed to be heading in the general direction of the "Public house", so we won't be seeing her for a while and the last of the turkey has been worked into a charming recipe of my own I call it "Sprout merrily with meat" and I'm sure that mad I mean merry monarch Henry 8th wound have darn well approved wholeheartedly. Although I do not know how Moony came by a Turkey on the american army base I did not know that they travelled with native wildlife (maybe they get homesick), maybe it had had escaped from a local farm as all our neighbours had to make do with a nasty mixture of goose and goat in jelly.
I will not say that this past Christmas day was in any way, shape or form a disaster and I think you will have noticed that I am that type of resourceful lady who can seize victory from the teeth of disaster faster than you can say "sprout thank you at a dinner party". The evening of christmas eve was as ever spent at the Cutting Sprout village players nativity. It is fortunate that the local paper does not run reviews as more than one amature thespians dreams of fame would almost certainly have been shattered. Between you and I, I had no idea that Mary had any musical numbers but dear Henny seems to think there were and we must humour her (she has had such a hard life poor dear, but I am sorry to say that it seems that whichever of her husbands she brought with her fell asleep and had to be prodded by myself or rather by my umbrella.) Then we had the bliss of sherry and cocktails at the vicars and all felt rather wild with our gin slings(in Moonys case slung all over the place). Charles had to be dragged home after he began to sing Danny Boy, weep loudly and declare his un-dying love for the Vicars wife who went quite pale and began to wack him with her mothers silver tea tray more damage to him than the tray.I think DR De-ath had to be sent for but never fear paracetamol a good nights sleep sorted him out. Moony and I finally left after Lord Arbathnot suggested we play Cluedo, well we're on to you my dear! The next Morning I awoke to find a misshapen stocking at the end of my bed and a misshapen Moony at the end of it but once she'd woken up she showed me what I'd got for christmas. Well my dears I must say I was rather touched by Moonys thoughtful little gift. Some tickets for a lovely ariel tour of Belgiums Brussels sprout growing fields, a big improvement on last years gift ( big bright red wool socks full of minature Teachers whiskey bottles -all empty-). I was not impressed at the time and this year I dropped some really heavy hints about how Woger always gave me something very "now" and very special. Like a washing Machine and chocolates (pity I didn't remembered to take them out before I put on the washing, at first I thought the results were rather poor with this new technology). I gave her something I thought she could really use membership of the AA I don't think she really got the right end of the stick, when I gave it to her she remarked. "Ohh how lovely I'll never have to worry about the car breaking down again!" At the time I wondered I this might be one of her drinking "triggers" and made sympathetic noises'. I recieved such a lovely gift from my little Bramwell, why I almost cried, delicate emerald silk beaded gloves. The dear little mite! Moony unwrapped the six liter bottle of Brandy Henny left for her and staggered to her armchair to enjoy the kind of Christmas she lives for, whilst I slipped into the kitchen to prepare the turkey and more in importantly the Brussels Sprouts (Christmas is special for me, everyone has to eat Sprouts WHETHER THEY WANT TO OR NOT!) The screech of brakes roused me from my merry stuffing and horror of horrors when I looked up and beheld Neff heading for the door, Chauffer and dogs in tow. Moony took one look and went to hide in the cupboard under the stairs, I of course was left to let her and her entourage in. Perfum and ciggarette smoke hung in the air like a lead weight,Bunny (Moonys jackle actually passed out and spent several minutes twitching on the floor). Neff discovered Moony when she went to put her coat away and Moony quickly lied that she just loved reading the meter. Of course Neff didn't belive a word of it, I saw her face! She took over our spare bedroom and in a few brief minutes it was transformed into a sun temple and her records' were being played a little to loud, her poodles running a little to wild -with my carpet slippers-. Moony had dissapeared with the Chauffer and Neff was soaking in the tub when Bramwell turned up carrying dear sweet muffy, his sky terrier who showed her nasty side laying into the poodle with gusto in spite of her frilly hand made gingham Dorothy dress (I may have cheered at this point but I had every justification). I think Bramwell was a little shocked by this sudden savagery but he collected himself to whip out his meringues, from the car boot. If only Harlot Harley could have seen them, light as air unlike hers which are dare I say a little heavy and rock like. He was such a help to me laying out the table with little green napkins he'd folded to resemble Christmas trees' and I for one love the colour green. We were all a little surprised when MiLord and Henny blew in, MiLord was wearing huge dark glasses and complained about his head when he heard Neff's music but after while he and she seemed to be getting on really well something to do with juggling the pressures of being a monarch and a God. We were just pleased that Neff was kept occupied, she loves the attention of a nice young man.
Post to be continued.

Lumpy stockings.....

How very cheeky our dear Moony was when she saw the title of my post ! But no my dear I of course refer to the "unusual" Christmas window at Dingbat,Wobble & Fryers in the high street. Throughout December we the assembled villagers both marvelled and speculated at what the unsightly bulges were compossed of. Of course with Lord Arbathnot-Nut as yet not apprehended by the police and with the dissaperance of Lady Arbathnot-Nut never quite resolved we found our minds running to even wilder speculation. Here I am with my delightful friend from the W.I Mrs Potts , we have just identified an orange something that for a brief while became the talk of the village. Mr&Mrs Dingbat, Mr Wobble and Mr & Mrs Fryer kept tight lipped about the materials used until the 25th when they revealed to our surprise that they had used unwanted gifts from family and friends collected over the years. Never before have I seen so many mens undergarments. But when I said this to Moony she seemed very surprised and remarked that I never pulled my weight on the wards when we were in the V.A.D. Humm her opinion not mine ..... At least I knitted the poor boys some socks what did she do for morale I ask!? On that note I must depart, tomorrow is W.I day and my I have never had my title of Queen of Tarts bested....