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!

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....