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.

Easter morning at the cottage...

Well my dears, I've searched for my eggs, they were all in the fridge in the little box they came in.... I wonder where people expect them to go?

A lovely afternoon at the Cutting Sprout opium den.

Moony and I felt that the day was getting to be a bit of a drag especially after we were obliged to take the postman to hospital after Bunny met and "greeted" him on the lawn. Not to many stitches thank goodness. So we popped along to our villages lovely little opium den. Its so snug and lovely and the tea is free, such very good value. We settled down with our pipes and tea and began a little chat which as I recal started off being about our latest pickles and ended up being about wether or not llamas were better at flying than trees. You see how lovely and odd opium makes our lives. Anyway I was running short of tea and as turned to the waitress to ask for another pot who should I see but Mr Misery with the first smile we have ever seen on his face . Ohh my It turned out that he'd come in to lecture us poor waifs about the evils of our lives but had inhaled to deeply. He sat down with us and announced that he had seen the light.
" Mrs Nito!" He exclaimed. " I have seen the light, the universe is run by a group of super intelligent bunny rabbits who do smocking in their spare time and are all called Nim the magnificent!"
I'm not sure that I belive this but it is a rather nice thought. We took him home with us of course. He was in no fit state to drive his horse and buggy (then again neither was I) . Tucked up on the sofa he told Mrs Moony that she wasn't really the whore of Babylon but a very nice lady whom he personally thought was a bit stunning. Moony thinks he may have long term damage although she is flattered.
Must go now and visit the Postie, he is being discharged at last. The scarring should be mild....

Well my dears I've pulled out all the stops for the W.I

As I always love to do my dears I have created something dramatic, something green, Something a little bit different.
Most importantly Something you will never have seen before!!!
Well....? What do you think? Pineapple, jelly roly-poly. A rather unusual little treat. I think Henny was just a little jealous with her Madelines' and tarts', (the faces she was pulling). But then again we can't all be blessed with culinary genius can we?

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.....

Home for retired entertainers of absent minds...

On this un-summery day had you been peeking through your net curtains (Henny naughty girl that's our job, we'll not see you cornering the market in gossip) you would have seen me mounting my trusted Raleigh bicycle and setting off with a squeak at first and then that wonderful whoosh that comes of riding downhill. Where was I heading of to you might ask, you might well and as my mother used to tell me "don't ask is also don't get". No truer word ever spoken but that doesn't mean that if you ask one of those nice men in Busbies, if you could possibly be the Queen ,that you won't be arrested. But enough of trifles...flans, meringues ohh and those odd little ones that go round and round and contain raisins.... Sorry my mind wonders so.... I was on my way to our latest charitable doing, at the juncture of this world and your world (it all gets so awfully like that programme with the man in the yellow jumper sometimes -not his colour, too figure hugging- now what was that called... Star.....umm Trek that's right) . Its in this little anti - room so to speak that we have a little nursing home for elderly theatricals and singers, "Crotchet, Quaver and Corpse "... Some of whom ,and here I must be delicate, have forgotten who they are indeed many are a little confused as to their own gender.... I'm not a one to make pets of people I'm sure you all know that by now, but ohh dear I confess there are four rather dear to my heart. "Mary" He/She used to be a singer but now thinks she's a housewife.... "Audrey" Used to have a long running T.V series of his/her own but much too old now, likes little black dresses...... "Beth" Like the flame haired queen, temperamental and no doubt they are related, she smokes something that isn't tobacco but makes one feel rather good about ones self.... Lastly "Gwendolyn" thankfully she wasn't born a girl or what a disappointment for the parents. Now they are all awfully sweet. Mary keeps making me lovely cakes with Beth's help and they are delicious although I often find I don't even remember eating them, perhaps we have mice? This morning I'm afraid things were not particularly smooth when I got there, chaos reigned. Audrey (a committed socialist, and never very far from actually being committed - she will try to drive herself-) had set Mary's copy of the Telegraph alight.... I share her views but not the right way to go about it. Mary was beside herself which is harder than it looks, comforting herself by singing hits from her old albums which just made everyone else well....distraught and Mary a touch sweaty. So sweaty in fact that when I turned to her she seemed to be crying spiders, Beth ever superstitious had fled the room but they turned out to be Mary's false eyelashes (always a problem, why as cook could tell you they caused an incident at Christmas when they fell in the soup and one now lives as a result in London Zoos fine arachnid house as yet not zoologically classified ) I stuck 'em back on just as Beth returned with a cake. It must have been very good as we were all so happy afterwards, playing games although what they were I don't know.... Strange that. Still lovely "girls" I wouldn't be without them.... I think I'll buy Mary a fire extinguisher though or a subscription to the Independent.... Night, Night... Ohh my hot water bottles turned into an owl.....

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

As Ollie and Charlie head down to the pub...

Ollie "I didn't know Henny had ever posed for page three!"
Charlie "Och nay you know those paparazzi they snuck in whilst she was rehearsing for one of her masques, mind you I must say they got her best side. Think is I wish she'd stop knitting."

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.

Arbathnot Towers.

Our local lord of the Manor lives here,his darling lady wife also used to reside in this stately home,known to be one of the worlds smallest but she mysteriously vanished two years ago and now he seems to have found what we belive to be the new Mrs Arbathnot-Nut. Of course like many stately homes the Arbathnot-Nuts have

had to open to the public and as the sign out front says" For tours please enquire with the cat, ghosts are extra". The cat (Sebastapol) turned out to be a surprisingly good tour guide once he had a little golf buggy and a tape recorded history he was away. But since Sebastapol is at the vets at the moment after being hit by a tour bus he was attempting to meet on the drive way, I have taken over. One thing I must say for the Arbathnot-Nuts home one does not want to be alone there at night. I'm saying nothing bad about the ghosts not that they aren't all on the take...but still. well anyway, I'd better get on with the tour, please do not take any of the inhabitants personal effects. There is a gift shop, you will enjoy the Wars of the Roses chess set and I have five of the little pens (so funny, shaped like Mary Queen of Scots you just unscrew the head to write). Now as we enter through the great front gates, no there is nothing special about them that's just how they are listed. Isnt this a rather lovely keep not much use in a place this small but still, on we go ahh now here we come to the hallway. Isn't it special, the small table on your right was made out of the wooden legs of soldiers from the Napolionic wars I'm afraid it wobbles a bit apparently they weren't all the same height ,across the way there is a portrait of the first Lord Arbathnot-Nut there are nausea capsules available but if you have a weak heart please don't look directly at it. No, no he wasn't a looker but he was terribly ruthless.Moving on now ,on the grand staircase which you may find just grand (little joke my dears) we have some more portraits note the family nose, its a wonder they could lift their heads and the canvases will get bigger as the silly beggers kept marrying really tall women . The family maintain that this early 15th century portrait proves that they have a prior claim to Lord Cardigan's idea and a prior patent on the Marks & Spencers design. Yes it does rather clash with the cod piece and breeches but it shows a lot of inspiration. Now the stately bedroom which has sheltered Queen Elizabeth I, King James I (its believed that the bites in the matress date from that time and were almost certainly all his own work ), Cromwell (notes on world domination scrawled on the back of the bathroom door are in his handwriting), CharlesII (the stains in the corner are his), Queen Anne (after her visit a specialist bed mender had to be called in ), Queen Victoria, and King Edward VIII (the other stains). The Arbahtnot-Nuts like to maintain their privacy so we will be going back downstairs where we can observe the great hall home of many a lavish banquet and where the family entertained King Henry IX, they still find chicken bones behind the cabinets. Ahh here it is, very long table isn't it, I see lord Arbathnot-Nut has left some of his campaign leaflets on the table. He's standing as an independent on a platform of free spam for all and no taxes on himself. Now one last stop the kitchens where we will see a re-enactment of traditional breadmaking....

We thought you might like to see the W.I ladies

I was going through my album in bed last night whilst Moony battened down the hatches (we've had such terrible wind here lately) and I came across this picture .I thought we'll I'll just have to pop that on. I had a little look at the back of the photo and so heres the label,reminding me of good times. "The ladies after a busy day of knitting socks for amputees". Ahh well I must go, something appears to be bubbling in my kitchen and Ido not recall putting anything on to boil, "Moony What Are You Doing!No put that... That is one of my best saucepans!What do you mean was !? Ohh goodness....Yes I can see it quite clearly for myself..."