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.....

Wakey , wakey at the home.

Really it was Mrs Mooney's day to work at the home but the residents always cry at the mention of her name . Ivan ( Bramwell's partner ) had come to trim the lawn and help out a bit. He started by shaving Mary who he said was talking in a strange voice. Audrey likes her hair done in a large quiff ( the poor "girl"is so thin we lost her in the bath and I was afraid she'd gone down the plughole until we saw a white streak outside the window and heard Gwenny scream as he/she pinched her bum. Ivan went out with the net and soon "she" was looking very smart. Beth was lighting a cigarette which is against the rules inside the house so we put her out ....on the lawn . Ivan went off to make tea and found Mary making a brew which again is against rules as she might burn herself . She tried to force a scone onto Ivan who had no truck with that and carried her into the breakfast room and bound her to the chair ( alas I don't think we'd pass inspection but Mary looked pleased ). Beth got very annoyed as to why she couldn't be tied up too. I had to say "But you havn't been naughty dear ". The next moment I looked up to see Beth trying to shove boiled eggy into Gwenny's mouth just so he could be tied up. Mary started crying and calling for a jerry so Ivan took her to the lavatory which didn't help much. "She "kept mumbling about an irishman in a most un p.c way. I shall have a talk to her about calling people of Irish extraction "Micks" .Is it any wonder , she'll be reading "The Daily mail" next. Audrey got upset again and started shouting socialist poems at Mary who was now muttering "I've never met a miner" in an incoherant way. Ivan snarled at her and she went quiet. Beth gave Mary a kiss and started a fight with Audrey , luckily no-one has a weight advantage with those too. Gwenny , our little peacemaker told them that all the residents should love each other setting Mary off singing "Fool for Love" at which Audrey shouted "Fool oh aye I'd reckon that's aboot right you class traitor ". Ivan dragged Audrey into the garden where he gave her some clootie pudding and "she settled down" . Mary being the oldest had to go for a nap and Gwenny ( my angel) went off to read "Great Expectations" to "her" . It was quiet for a few blissful moments and Beth started scribbling in her ancient notebook we can't part her from , possibly part 69 of her auto-biography .
It was time to start lunch and today was chicken soup .As I worked in the kitchen I looked up to see Audrey stark naked again peering in the window , I van was timming the roses and I saw a near dreadful accident as Audrey ran past too close to shears .The next thing I knew was Mary was driving the lawnmower up and down the lawn in her nightie .By the time night shift arrived I was exhausted but Mrs Arbuthnott takes no truck and they all sleep in tight sleeping bags with quick ejector buttons in case of fire and she keeps a whip handy which brings a smile to Beth's face but will never be used they'd all like it too much.

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.....

Dear Doris settles in to her new sea-side villa.

Poor dear Holly and her Mum and family lost their Mum and granny last month. When I say "lost" of course she was safe with us . We had a few weeks to get her sea-side home decorated in a style she would like. We added a beach hut down on the coast for her . If she looks out of her top window she has a wonderful view of the sea and the smell of ozone . We also shopped for some rather expensive wool for her as she could not afford it down there. A comfy chair and a basket by a lovely fireplace was added. She has three bedrooms so can easily invite family over to stay . As she had always been a bicycle rider in her youth we popped a lovely one in the shed. A relative called Bill had put in runner beans and sweet williams . Charlie has promised to pop over and do some regular gardening but her father will help when not in his own shed. We had to be very strong with her brother Ron or she'd have found model railway tracks all over. Luckily he runs the mini-railway for the kiddies who passed over to us in infancy. Henny's Ann likes to go on the trains as often as possible. We had lovely photos of her children ( well as lovely as they could look poor dears not having Mooney's looks). on her mantel. Mr Smithson popped in to welcome her ( you lot all know him as Jesus). Luzbel wanted to but one look from Mr S. and he shuffled off.

We would like to assure Doris's family that Mrs Mooney took her to get some very nice clothes , a lot of Liberty prints I see Doris ! Treacle and Mr Enjy along with Pete Pilchard are now homed back with "Mum" .I think she was happy when we showed her the viewing screen in the library so she can see what those girls are up to. Angie it seems has bought more yarn on E:Bay . We waved as we left and Henny has reported that she popped in .Doris was a bit surprised then remembered Angie loved her. They hit it off rather well in fact so Henny will be taking some of her herbal waters over next visit. The President surprised the poor woman when he went to welcome her along with "Barbie" ...I dare say she blames Angie again or as she told us "Andy Pandy" so called after a puppet show she loved .

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.

Rupert Everett gets a special pass...........at........

by Bramwell but that's another story and poor Brammy was wrestled to the ground by The King's Lifeguard ( i.e Prince Rupert..which he quite enjoyed). As we were having a premiere of St. Trinians we asked the landlord ( a Mr God) for a special pass for Mr Everett . We had the whole cinema decked in "Juicy Coutre" ribbon and a large set of buck teeth for donations to Mr Everett's aids work. He arrived on his bicycle from the station not the limo we'd expected but he's a bit green now ( Mrs Nito IS pleased).He was really super in person in fact Harlot fainted and Mooney made a grab that I managed to deflect in time . I explained his preferences later. He had the best seat ( the one without the fleas) and a free cone . Alas he hasn't given up the dreaded weed ( and I DO mean weed...wink, wink) so we were all very happy when we staggered out . He asked where the nearest Gay club was so we took him to the back of "The Full Moon and Lunatic ". He didn't seem very happy until Ivan and Brammy arrived and suggested he'd prefer "The Ruby Slipper" . We older ones sent them off and do you know we had the most charming thank-you letter and several copies of "Dahling are You Working?" ...what a vivid imagination!

This is how the poor man's back was after wearing ladie's court shoes during filming .Mrs Bagshot-Smyth soon straightened him up ( pardon the pun).

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..."

Wassailing

Well my dears apart from Wednesday being a bit of a low point in poor Charlie’s calendar –he spent the whole day mopping around the pub wearing a roll neck jumper and burst into tears when Doris the barmaid told one of the locals “you’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on!!!” – We’ve been having a rather lovely time here. Moony and I went on a tinsy cruise down the Nile since Christmas, we got back on the 15th of January to find a little card pushed through the door which announced in shiny red letters.

Moony licked her lips and looked enthusiastic. I could not believe that I had forgotten our annual Wassail, Mrs Bagshott-Smyth and her women’s group will never forgive me. It’s one of their pet concerns and they prepare seriously to welcome the spirit of the harvest into our orchards. I usually enjoy this quaint village tradition provided that in driving the evil spirits out of my house none of my priceless figurines suffers (you know who you are “the duke of Brunswick” and I think that’s a ludicrous title for such a little monster.) Moony was looking even more excitable but I explained to her that unless she collected up the saucepans this year I simply wouldn’t be taking her, not after the last time. When I caught her eating the toast that Ida Batwing and dear little Mary had left as an offering to the apple trees, I can scarcely describe the embarrassment I felt! I must say I felt a little naughty at having come back the day before and in such a state, I had sand in everything! But I doubt you wish to know about that. I popped across to Charlie and Henny’s house just as soon as I thought that the coast might be clear, Charlie opened the door in his little “I’ve been executed and all they gave me was this crummy apron!” umm Apron. He was in very high spirits, covered in pastry and smelt suspiciously of cider. He giggled as he explained that he’d been baking, yes my dears and I expect that he’d found it necessary to sample the contents of his famous wassail pasties (they may taste innocent my dear but they are the devil in disguise). Henny was perched by the radio laughing at some comedy or other; I think it might have been called the Goons or the Gones or something. When I came in she giggled and wiggled her legs as she turned of the dial “Ohh Mrs Nutto Ze has ziz radio progam an ze does… Umm how you zay ‘is fallon in ze vater!’ an ann and Bud and Min!!!! Is zooo vunny ! Like you and moses Moony!!! Vous like it Chillie non???” Charlie pulled a chair out for me and nodded. “Ochh Aye very like the lassies ehh!” I have no idea what they meant bless them but Henny quickly noted my newly acquired tan. “Ohh Mrs Nutto Vous has gone all like a man on zee telly… Ohh wat ze call ze tan.” I was awfully flattered of course, I'd spent quite a while out on the deck playing coits to get that darker green... I had to confess to them that I had quite forgotten about our little merry making amongst the trees and as a result I wouldn't have much to contribute to the general food and drink side of things. "Ohhh but vous must as some off our lambs wooool what Chilli pot in zee what is it called solar downstairs... Umm non Cellar..! But are ze non zee zame zing?" Frankly I wasn't at all sure that Henny had the right end of the stick or in fact any sort of clue at all. "No no Henny" I said "I dont think that wool will make any sort of substitute for a nice punch even if it is merino." Ohh my how they laughed, poor Charlie fell of his armchair laughing and didn't seem to be able to regain his composure. It turns out that what they intended me to give my guests was a spicy, bubbly, cider drink to which you just add heat. I left them with a lighter heart and a considerably lighter step after Charlie gave me a practical demonstration. I took the long way home so I could get the paper and spied Ida and Mary by the duck pond, they were dusting down Idas considerable collection of wassailing cups. They invited me to join them but I sweetly declined. Frankly Ida has explained her collection to me before and I don't belive that I've spent an odder afternoon in anyone's company. Moony was attempting to scour the cellar for any old cordials, fruit wines and preserves that we might have laid up last year, she had found a few bottles but many of them seemed suspiciously half full and Moony smelt of sloe's and damson. Still as they told me so often at my school "it's the effort that counts Juanita." or in this case it was Moonys effort that counted. We tried to get a good nights sleep but one can hear Moony's snoring so awfully through our rather thin little walls. I should say that I was up and about at a delightful hour the same can not be said for poor dear Moony. When Charlie came over with the car however she was mercifully up and dressed, so interestingly was Henny. I might add that its not interesting that Henny was dressed but what she was wearing. A dress that captured the essence of christmas tradition, or a walking Christmas tree I couldn't decide. The villagers were setting off from the town hall as usual, although the Mayor can't really come due to his health problems. Harlot stays behind to keep him "company".
The going door to door only had one little hitch we were all outside it turned out so of course there was no one to let us in. Sadly we only realised the problem after the third house we tried when Mrs Cuthbert remembered that that was her house and she'd have to go back in to let us in. And we had thought that all our neighbours had suddenly become rather impolite. Ohh well as long as we remembered to let ourselves in we were alright. Thankfully Moony and I had taken the precaution to take all our ornaments down to the basement or I shudder to think what might have happened.... We entered into the spirit of the thing banging our pots and pans (le Creuset excepted) and shouting our heads off. On the way up to Farmer Ramsbodie's farm to bless his lovely orchard, we met up with Mrs Bagshott-Smyth who had managed to array herself in an awful lot of what appeared to be plaster-of-Paris apples some terribly familiar looking curtains. I think I saw Mrs Arbathnot-Nut donate them to the charity shop only last month, not of course that I said anything she can be terrible sensitive. But as she will always tell you she is sensitive to so much more than the rest of us, i'm not so sure about that. She does not know that we find her performance art deeply boring, in fact I noticed that several people turned back muttering "Remember that Winter thing? Never again!" Ahh well I'm a girl who will just hang on in there as our G.I's like to say. We got up to the apple Orchard and discovered Farmer Ramsbodies and his mysteriously fluffy wife sitting on a set of deckchairs with what I might call the worlds largest barrel of Cider. Moony kept very close to it even talking about Mrs Ramsbodies knitting so as to be close to it (that dear lady never runs out of yarns but I've never seen her in the yarn shop how odd?). The rest of us got to work, singing the songs our grandparents taught us, sadly my grangdma only taught me to sing "Iwish I'd looked after my teeth". So I am always at a disadvantage.

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

The children of cutting sprout take santa very seriously.

Their dogged determination to make the last post gives us all cause to be cautious when we step outside. Try to post your milk cheque at your own risk my dears, I still bear the scars from my one foolish attempt to do so...... But aah bless them, meanwhile Mr Dingbat is fattening up to play a very famous festive visitor, just don't tell them that......

We wish you a merry christmas

We Wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year........

Hallooo It's me King Charles and my lovely wife Henny(Oui C'est moi).

Piano at the vicarage

Mrs Mooney does enjoy a rectial and polishing the piano.

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....

If that Rupert Everett thinks his lineage is good look at this .

Horus name
Kanakht Tutmesut -The strong bull, pleasing of birth


Nebti name
Neferhepusegerehtawy Wer-Ah-Amun Neb-r-Djer -One of perfect laws, who pacifies the two lands; Great of the palace of Amun; Lord of all[4]


Golden Horus name
Wetjeskhausehetepnetjeru Heqa-maat-sehetep-netjeru Wetjes-khau-itef-Re Wetjes-khau-Tjestawy-Im -Who wears crowns and pleases the gods; Ruler of Truth, who pleases the gods; Who wears the crowns of his father, Re; Who wears crowns, and binds the two lands therein
Prenomen


Nebkheperure -Lord of the forms of Re
Son of Re
Tutankhamun Hekaiunushema -Living Image of Amun, ruler of Upper Heliopolis

Mrs Mooney.

Ohh dear.....

Now let me say this without to much alarm to my readers, I have always been a little unnerved when I pop into our doctors surgery and see the little sign on his door "Dr De'ath will see you now" but when I saw this poster on his Way I was even more unnerved. How might one ask did a carrot get into medical school what practical use would it be as a doctor. This one appears to have arms and legs, not to mention eyes,nose and mouth so I suppose it would be rather better disposed than an average carrot on the other hand it must have been grown near sellafield in order to develop these attributes which does not umm......bode well.

one

Cutting Sprout in autumn.

As you know from reading this my correspondence with you, we at Cutting Sprout have been preparing for our harvest festival. Always a cause of great celebration in this little corner of the world where on the fringes of Cutting Sprout as I have doubtless told you before sweet little farms abound. I of course look forward to the Brussels sprout harvest, Moony woke me up only last weekend to ask me when the Gin bottle harvest is. Bless the poor lass I didn't know how to explain it to her so I told her to nip down to the kitchen and make herself some Gin and Cornflakes whilst I got a few more winks of sleep. But once she was gone I lay there and had a little think, what might people with a less discerning pallet than myself might bring along for the Vicars lovely harvest table all decorations for the church being provided by the lovely Mrs Pine-Coffin. I'm afraid they were rather messed with by some other pretentious and bossy villagers whose names I will not divulge here....But don't they think they're the cats pyjamas? I contributed a little wreath of Brussels sprouts and cornflowers. That I suspect caused ohh...Just a little pang of jealousy in the aforementioned villager ( oh okay a certain Mrs Barnstorm and her cronies).... Well as the nights got darker we brushed of our nice warm outfits (unless of course our name was Bagshott-Smyth, more from her later) and little village children went around singing "All things bright and beautiful" and "We plough the fields and scatter" until Moony remarked that they shouldn't encourage illegal land ploughing. I asked her how the little poppets might be doing this (I was at the time sowing an ear of corn suit for one of the local nursery class so that he could pop up on stage and deliver his line "I 'v grown"). Well she said "If they were ploughing those fields legally then they wouldn't have to scatter would they?" Again I didn't feel qualified to explain so I sent her across the road for "a cup of something or other" Her eyes lit up and she scurried across the road with a tumbler. I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to my sewing machine which stuck on automatic had put an unusual pattern into a tomato costume and I had to unpick some of the worst bits. I'll say its one of those things where something gets scorched into it by the greenhouse. Moony didn't come back for a while, she'd been very much enjoying Henny and Charlie's drinks cupboard. I really hadn't meant a cup of whisky but that is what she brought back. Never Mind. We pottered along to the service on Sunday, me with a basket of garden produce and Moony with a tin of Jolly Green Giant sweetcorn which she insisted was harvest produce, just as she had the year before with a pack of sage and onion flavoured gravy. I try to say as little as possible on these occasions. It was charming, and my costumes turned out to be "rather sweet in a surreal way" as the vicar put it. And only a little misshapen. When we left the church we found little notes attached to the trees leading us to the woods, we looked at each other intrigued and then as one we followed the arrows.

Guess what we found yes Mrs Bagshott-Smyth and her women's group, a lot of very alcoholic punch and some wooden toad stools large enough to sit on. The punch helped I must say to enable us to better interpret Mrs Bagshott-Smyths "Dance of the Autumn sprites welcoming the Winter". I must say that they were graceful, bizarre and in the spirit of cutting sprout totally un-put off by the start of an early frost. But I snuck of home before anyone could ask my opinion. Call me a diplomat my dears, Henny did when she caught up with me. The two of us made our way home via every conker in the woods (Henny cant help herself picking them up and her pockets were bulging.) We talked about our families as we walked and we hummed and I imagine that the unknowing observer might have mistaken us for darling Pooh and Piglet.