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!

Poor Mrs Cox.

Her osmoz kit arrived this morning . Mooney shuffled past and seeing the olibanum , myrrh and juniper oil she mixed herself a cocktail. The poor woman has been waiting ages for it to arrive from France. Henrietta stopped the sobbing by phoning a relative who is sending another post haste. She had her laptop with her so showed us some very nasty stuff about some snooty designer . Mooney called him snooty cow ( she needs new glasses or maybe not). Anyhow Bramwell is far more talented and he didn't get where he is by wearing bin bags .In fact he has some lovely fur. That singer is upsetting Mrs Cox again ( God we could do counselling). Mooney and Henny said she shouldn't care I mean who has friends are a Pharaoh and a Queen of England. He can crawl all he likes but Pharoahs are hard to find. George Fox had to take the poor distraught woman back to the border ( what she didn't know was that Mooney was in her trunk so she could "borrow" her best Ta'if rose .

Priest holes..etc.

Mrs Mooney has stashed Mrs Cox in the Priest hole at the Manor so they can't find her for being a member of those who criticise God ..errr sorry I mean Bryan Ferry . She is complaing because Priests were obviously small . We are passing down her C.Ds to keep her amused but even having to listen to them won't make her take a word back . I'd confess straight away myself. She will insist that only God himself is above criticism so she'll have to stay incarcerated.