The writer is at home...

Ahh my dears a few days ago my muse struck me again, but then it serves me right for standing in the driveway whilst Moony was reversing. Anyway shortly after that I was inspired to take up my typewriter (only by five inches), I don't know if it was the bump on the head but I can't say I've been so inspired since that wonderful night five years ago when after falling down six flights of steps at the municipal baths (they haven't even got six floors so I don't know why they have so many stairs. that night I sat up, I wrote my first Romance " She was very, very poor, he saw her, she saw his house- Reader she married him!", my first Crime novel "Goodness it might be the knife sticking out or the steamroller that gone over, but I think the bounder might be dead!", My first knitting pattern book " Things I've pulled of my needles in a hurry" and my one and only sci-fi (not really my genre, my agent tells me. 'Leave it to H.G Wells') "The last hairdresser on Mars'".

All four went on to be big sellers and I was offered a massive contract, all I had to do was knock out five or six a year and i had it made. Well that hasn't been a problem at all, not with Moony supplying me with an endless parade of inspiration for my Detective Hatshepsutnut mysteries. He remains the only ancient Egyptian, mummified detective in bookshops to this day. Its not been hard finding inspiration for my romances either! I have always had a string of suitors and admirers! Well this January I finished of "The mystery of the body announced on the 6.45 to Chepstow", and I hope one of my eagle eyed viewers (who knew eagles could read) will spot who done it and send the answer to me because I've no idea though I never did like the look of professor Higgerson. When I went to hand the manuscript over to my publisher she mentioned something about how wonderful it all was and what was I going to do next? "Nordic Noirs very big right now." She smiled at me. "Have you thought of a Scandinavian detective?" Silly girl, I always thought she was a bit giddy. I quickly pointed out that there probably weren't all that many Scandinavian ancient Egyptians' though I'm willing to keep an open mind and she looked instantly baffled. "Well vampires are very popular in the romance department at the moment. Have you thought of that?" This sounded more promising, after all never has a man been so perfect, during the day he'll be laid out in his coffin so you wont have to worry about asking him to lift his legs so you can hoover under them and he'll be available to take you on moonlight walks by the seine. Downsides however include, you cant ask him to pop out for the paper before 9.00pm, the milkman will look at you funny when you put in your order, you won't be able to cook Italian food again, you'll have to get rid of your art books on the Sistine Chapel (by the way how id they fit a chapel into a cistern and isn't it ruined every time someone flushes?).

I did agree to have a go at a vampire romance but since getting home hadn't been inspired. then last night I awoke to a tapping at my window... My heart was seized with terror and curiosity. had I acquired a new muse, would he accept tea as a beverage. Luckily when I looked out it was only one of Cromwell's racing pigeons. Though you never know do you? But that little pigeon made my think. Think of England! Think of summer! Think of the beauty of the rolling countryside! Think of Moony and I! Think above all of Cumbria!

That's the moment at which i seized up my pen and began "My cupboard in Cumbria". Broadly its the story of impoverished bohemian writer ( ohh are you drawing comparisons too ?!) Varple Casterrs, she takes up a cupboard for the summer in the beautiful landscape of Cumbria along with her ever complaining butler Fobitts. One dark and stormy night a tandem crashes outside her cupboard and whilst tending the survivors ( alas the Eccles cakes didn't make it) she finds herself learning to love again and live again... I think it might be a classic. Must go then I'm on chapter seven, book prizes here I come!

Ohh by the way i received a call this morning from a man asking if he could give my books away.

" O I thought world book night was last night i said"

"Umm yes Madam, but I own I book shop, I just want to know If i can give your books away?"

" So more people will read them and see how wonderful they are?

" Omm something like that....?"

" Why by all means young man!" You see so many sweet fans out there, im quite overwhelmed!

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!

Easter in Cutting Sprout.

Easter Sunday

"They'll let anyone drive these days!" I looked up from my copy of the local paper as Moony shouted this odd early morning greeting. Ohh dear I thought as she stalked into the breakfast room her dressing gown flapping dangerously near to one of the little Easter candles I'd lit so I quickly blew it out. "Look at that! " She announced in disgust as she placed the post in front of me. On top of the pile was a jaunty Easter card (I have enclosed a picture below) of a happy little bunny driving a giant Easter egg in his car. "It isn't even safe." She remarked as she cracked open her egg. "How can he even reach the pedals!" Ohh dear I think Moony may have lost a few more marbles in the night as i tried to point out the cards humorous message all she could do was look mystified... "I don't see that It's funny Nito dear, he' clearly a danger to himself and others." I gave up and presented her with her Easter egg specially iced with hieroglyphic Easter egg hunters . I return she gave me a chocolate pyramid, not quite entering into the spirit of the occasion but never mind it's the thought that counts.

I was delighted to see that my little angel Bramwell had sent me an Easter card as well, he has such pretty delicate taste and what a lovely yet surprising present for Mrs Bunny. (See Below) After Moony had finished the terribly slow process of eating her breakfast I left her seated in front of a special songs of worship broadcast, she never knows the tunes alas, and popped over to see what Henny and Charlie were doing. I found Henny sitting on a upturned bucket in a straw hat holding a score board whilst her grandchildren ran around the garden shrieking with excitement and riffling in Charlie's ohh so carefully planted bushes and flower beds. "Hollo Mrs Nitooo We is hoving an Easther ogg hont what is for finding the oggs." I'm still puzzled as to where people expect their eggs to have gone? Still the children were having very good fun so I said nothing far off in the distance I could see Charlie and Oliver trying to organise an egg and spoon race. This is another Easter mistake, you can race cars because they have engines but it is impossible to race either eggs or spoons as they don't have engines but does anyone listen to me?

I sat with Henny for a little while but then had to dash home as I noticed there was smoke coming from my kitchen windows or as dear Henny put it "Does vous nosees your winows is on firrr only zee is smocking."

I rushed in to find Moony had been trying to make hot cross buns. They were burnt but she was half successful, as she was very hot and more than a little cross.

Thankfully by Monday we were all to stuffed on chocolate to try anything adventurous... especially not baking. One thing I shall draw a veil over, the reverend Pine-Coffins sermon, least said soon as mended.

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

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.....

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

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.

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

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....

Pub Quiz night

Friday night is pub quiz night at the "Full Moon and Lunatic" and Moony and I always turn out. One day we hope to return with the prize Money, but until then its just a cracking good way to spend a Friday Evening. Our team the W.I ladies are fairly good and we take it all very seriously, Bramwell designed us a team uniform; its a fetching outfit consisting of fluffy purple jumper, pleated green skirt and little beret. Henny has also taken to bringing cheerleaders pom poms with her and really whipping up team spirit with her routines. We drive them all down and Mrs Pine-Coffin makes the sandwiches. Tonight as I fastened on my hat Mrs Bagshott-Smyth came banging in still dressed in one of her less than fetching pairs of footless tights and drooping leg warmers with some bits of twig hanging from her ponytail. After a few over theatrical stretching exercises which she calls the "Oshhhha ahh" and I call the "Ohh is that my back going" she produced from behind her back something that looked like a badly stuffed pair of tights fighting with a Guy Fawkes doll whilst he burst into merry flames atop the bonfire. "I have designed... A new MASCOT for our team. It was inspired by a ..." She paused, pulled herself up to her full height, stuck out her chest and fixed her eyes on something in the middle distance. "A Woodsprite!". Moony snorted loudly and got the hoover out as the creature was shedding glitter and leaves all over the carpet. I put on my glasses to look at it and was even more horrified. No one would get in the car with it so it had to be strapped to the roof and a shower of debris followed us to the pub. We passed Mr Dingbat walking his dog and as his eyes were drawn to the roof rack I saw a silent scream escape his lips. I knew how he felt. A crowd gathered to watch as we tried to wrestle it down and Mrs Bagshott-Smyth looked daggers at Henny as one of its arm type things came away in her hand, but we rammed it back on with some of Nells chewing gum and it held better than the rest of the thing. The pub landlord insisted that we leave it in the beer garden as he didn't want it putting of customers. He supposed that in the twilight and with a beer in its hand it might pass as one of his more eccentric regulars and not draw suspicion. We had a wonderful time, and much to our surprise and my pride at the end of the evening Bramwell as captain of his team ( The Ruby Slippers) lifted the cup and the prize money and brought us all one last round.
Late that night as Moony and I listened to the local news in bed, on our transistor radio the announcer suddenly became very serious. "Reports just in that the Beast from the Moors was spotted having a leisurely Beer outside "The Full Moon and Lunatic" Some reports even suggest that a pack of crisps were involved. All a far cry from its sheep snatching antics....! Ohh dear We'd better not say anything.