I shall be in the embroiderers gazette...

Isn't that quite exciting, ever since dear Bramwell began to work for them as their out and about reporter I've been confident that I would get a mention but I was scarcely prepared to get a four page spread. Its all been rather exciting, ones cushions have been photographed, can you imagine and i have been encouraged to share one of my graphs with their readers. I wish they'd told me they wanted a cross stitch graph straight away and feel such a fool for sending then that one of Brussels Sprout distribution in the outer Hebrides.... Ohh well. Still I thought it wasn't fair for my loyal readership here to be deprived of some of my lovely embroidery ideas so I've enclosed a free style pattern you'll adore, for some reason I can't persuade the shops to stock my tapestry kits.

A magical mystery tour for teeth....

This morning finding very little else to do (there's only so many times that one can weld bunnys muzzle back together) we decided to treat ourselves to a day out with Mrs Cox who had to pop to the hospital to let a man look at her gnashers. Poor dear if its not one end its the other as Ive told her many times before you are lucky you are not eight sided or imagine the trouble you would have. Such as enticing possibility a visit to their local hospital, not a bit like our lovely little cottage hospital although i did notice on the way out that they had borrowed one little hint from us. The phantom organist though at "Cutting Sprout General (ly not too bad)" we prefer he plays "nearer my God than thee" or a little number all our own "For those in peril off the sea" . Still they have two things which we are only too envious about, firstly the giant motorised buggy's of doom which hurtle out of nowhere straight at you driven by a squinting and ancient driver and secondly our even bigger favourite the great mystery tour of 'find your department'. This is a game best played in pairs for comparison and team building reasons and is surprisingly difficult due to the many dead ends, misleading arrows and something called the 'league of fiends ' (surely it shouldn't be allowed for them to form their own leagues, what next football teams?). Well we did finally find the department for Maxil something or other, why ohh why will they only treat you if your name is max? We were going to put that on the form but Mrs Cox wouldn't let us help her fill it in. I was disappointed by how few giant abscesses there were , Mrs Cox had one years ago that made her look like Winston Churchill we even asked her to speak at the W.I. I must say though what a lot of odd people! There were some right exhibitionists (not just Moony) and an awfully strange Menage a tois that arrived later on, clearly heavily into bondage and very shifty looking. Though I'm as broad minded as the next person but there are limits as I said to Moony who simply cackled and said "unlike him I suppose you'd have to say that he was a 'Broadmoor' minded as the next person!" .
I really don't understand her sometimes. Mrs Coxe's procedure sounds promisingly messy so I'll probably go back for that, I only hope there are not any more weirdos in on the day. On the way out we passed another 'league of fiends outpost so I told them just what I thought, they just looked innocent and puzzled. I suppose they think that in this day and age there are not any right thinking people left to oppose them, think again Fiends!!!

Dear Mr. Che , funny name that.

On Saturday I popped over to the other side to watch Mrs Cox's new film ,"Che". It was very dull all green ( no what am I saying ?). A dull green and everyone kept fighting which was very , very naughty . Mrs Mooney tells me he lives in Verde el Fantastico so I invited him over for tea. He is obviously not a man with a vast wardrobe , that tatty old beret and khaki again with huge boots. He hasn't shaved for goodness knows how long and his hair is a mess.Mooney ( the know it all ) told me was Argentinian so I got in a nice tin of corned beef and she bought some horrible tea stuff called mate ( no mate of mine i can tell you ). After I boiled the water he pulled out a grenade so I grabbed it and hit the deck as I threw it out of the window .Mr Che shouted "hey that's my bombilla".That is none of my business but it's upstairs second on the right. "Lady you are loco" he said. I laughed at his little joke as I am clearly not a train. He then started coughing horribly all over my violet tea-set. These Argentines have no manners. Mooney said " hush the poor man has asthma". Oh that's what it was I like a spot of Earl Grey myself. He was starting to look a bit cross,devilish eyes you know. When I bought in the corned beef he started shouting in some foreign language and Mooney tried to calm him down . I wouldn't have wanted to be his Mum . He asked for mate again so I thought it must refer to the rug and slipped it under his feet. As I stood up I slipped and fell ,there was a crack and he flung me on the sofa shoving a bamboo stick in my mouth ( I knew he was mad). I am a doctor woman he yelled lay still you've twisted your ankle . I didn't want the treatment but his bedside manner was a bit rough and before you know it he was tearing up my best anti-macassar and tieing up my ankle. I have to say Argentine blokies could do with some grace . Mooney "oh for goodness sake Nito don't you know who he is , the man on the poster in my room". Well he's fooled you hasn't he because that man is clearly red .At this point he stormed out of the cottage . We really do have some odd people over here ,oh and did I mention the holes in his uniform . It's clear to me he has no little woman looking after him. Mooney said "oh yes he does ,his first wife". Well she is no needlewoman then. I pity his other wives when they arrive. The next day a sweet little lady arrived at the cottage to give me a right telling off about being rude to her "Papa" ...oh God they let him breed!

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!

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 .

There was a knock at the door.

" God moaning" said Henny .

" As it is bonk 'oliday I zought you might lick to cum to ze tea at our cttarge "

" Casulz attyres plose"

She turned and left and Mooney looked at me ...did she say casual dear because if that's casual I'm the Queen of Egypt ..errr King? We fell about laughing and I spent ages looking for my best Dior and Mooney her upper and lower nile crown.

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....

Deep and crisp and even....

Christmas Eve, night
194?.....
Diary of Mrs G.J Nito
Cutting Sprout
Hello dear readers, felicitations of this joyful season.
Here I sit in my little study as much festive noise excites and alarms me without (who knew Moony knew how to play twister?) writing this, my Christmas diary. What a lovely few days we've been having here .... Shall I begin on Monday...
I awoke bright and early but could not find my glasses, no matter I thought to myself, I'm only going shopping and as I well know Mr Dingbat, Mr Wobble and Mr Fryer are so helpful in matters of choice (I decided to shop locally this year as it means so much to our local shopkeepers). As one would expect I took my abloutions (whatever they are, I say I took them because Moony asks if I have or not. In fact I use the time to take a bath. I dare say they are some sort of new health pill), Folded back my counterpain (so much easier since I discovered that it was not the window, you try folding glass) and decided upon an outfit from my extensive wardrobe. I have many things in there which were given to me as gifts and which I'm afraid I would never dream of wearing and then there was that red outfit I had won in the raffle last winter.... Anyway, I came down, put on the bacon for breakfast... Took off the bacon and cooked it (still don't know why one should put it on first but it's in the cookery book woger gave me so I do it that way). Not long after it's smell began to waft upstairs Moony dragged herself down, one hand searching for cigarettes in her dressing gown pocket, the other trying to tease her hair into some sort of style. For some reason when she saw me she stopped dead (or do I mean she stopped alive here?). "Nito are you feeling quite alright?" I was surprised by this as of course I felt quite well... wonderful in fact and told her so. But she persisted until I decided I might as well go out and leave her. I supposed that it was the hallucinations again...
As I left the postman fainted on next doors steps so I tucked a tonic of my own invention under his arm, they do work them so hard!
Charlies jaw dropped as I walked past and his cereal dribbled out of his mouth... you know I don't think they sewed his head on well at all...
People must have been hitting the old tipples a little hard in anticipation I thought to myself. Finally I reached Dingbat, Wobble and Fryers. I never knew that Mr Dingbat was a religious man but as I came in he crossed himself, I went up to him and he grew very pale and shrank back against his display of Mrs Ramsbodie's traditional farmhouse plum puddings (I think that she should put a photo of herself on the tin but she says she is to shy). "Now honestly Mr Dingbat, if you go on like that you'll be worn out by Christmas!! I suppose I'll see you at midnight Mass?" he gave the oddest answer, "If they let you in the church this year Mrs Nito!". Well I did what anyone would have done in that position... I walloped him with my basket. Never the less I took several of Mrs Ramsbodie's puddings. They are so very luxuriant and indulgent.... I was not put off, despite peoples strange reactions I carried on shopping. Chesses, meats and gifts piled up in my basket and at every counter I recieved some strange looks. I began to suspect that without my glasses I had chosen as a hat Moonys frillys or had put my lipstick on a little high.
Eventually I had everything that I wanted and made my way home. By then the postman had recovered and gone but Henny and Charlie were now pressed up against the window of their house and as I passed Charlie pointed me out... How strange I thought, they are both usually so polite. I opened the door, spotted Moony hiding behind the sofa, well I thought I'll leave her there if she must be strange, so be it. Dinner needed putting on and I was not going to play games. As I entered the kitchen I saw my glasses lying on the shelves where I house my pudding dishes. How careless of me I thought and popped them on so I could better light the oven. As I bent down I caught sight of myself in the shiny, mirror like surface of a biscuit tin. For a moment I stared dumbstruck and then with a piercing scream I fainted....
When I came round I found myself looking into the face of good old Moony... " I told you you looked strange" she said and I had to agree....
I had put on the red raffle outfit.... I had been wearing red....


Tuesday:
After some strong tea and a good nights sleep I was well enough recovered to accompany Moony and Bramwell on the annual hunt for our Christmas tree (I love Christmas trees as they are about the only green thing that come Christmas everyone wants) .... Into the woods we trekked, Bramwell had brought that nice strong friend of his Ivan to drag the tree home and a picnic for the search. Moony as always made straight for a weird lopesided tree that through her drunken haze must have looked very attractive and insisted that it was the one we should have... We ignored her and carried on looking. We saw big ones and small ones, fat ones and thin ones and then finally we found it.... The tree, very green, the right size, beautiful.... So we chopped it down and home we went to decorate it's merry branches. Shame I sent Moony up into the attic to find the decorations as we now have many fewer than last year but nevermind! Anyway I read an article In Womans Bi-weekly in which they suggested thousands of pretty gift ideas all made from broken ornaments... Now I have all the broken ornaments that I could want and with a few touches and some glue... well.

Today it's Christmas eve, we've opened the sherry invited our neighbours in and baked a lovely fish dinner later we shall go and celebrate the birth of Chesses... Ohh sorry spelling mistake I mean Jesus... I shall make another entry in the New Year and tell you how it's all gone. Now I must run, Henny was trying to climb the Christmas tree and from the sound of it she's got stuck... also I'm sure I heard Moony say she was going to set light to the sherry trifle...
Moony no! Put it down... Ohh well... Charlie would you like to borrow my eyebrow pencil? No? Ohh well I think you look alright without them... Ohh maybe a little startled.

So Christmas has started .

There was a tremendous bustle , shouting , screeching of brakes etc outside the cottage yesterday. I looked out and Neff. had arrived to visit her daughter ( who I might add was over several odds in bed). We loaded her luggage in the loft , garage , Henny's garage and the Church hall. As we sat trying to watch "Poiret" she heard knocking on the wall and looked very worried. We explained we were hiding a rebel ( she loved that after all her husband was a rather big one). We opened the Priest hole and passed Mrs Cox her tea and marmalade toast. As soon as it got dark we let her out as she wished to pop over to chat to Henny .She's looking a bit crushed poor dear .We put " Manifesto" on for her but she started screaming "trash, trash oh my God trash" . Neff dragged in the bin and sat back down as Mrs Cox ran. Two minutes later Neff started screaming too so we popped on some carols .I think it's going to be a long run up to Christmas. Mrs Cox says Henny has a whole cottage under hers for catholics to stay in so the Cox family can join her ( she still gets that nervous feeling that she should hide all the time poor soul ). The almighty one is being quiet but his fans are stalking her blog. Neff says she loves a good heratic ( sadly she meant the biscuit brand not Mrs Cox).

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.

Mrs Nito's campaign .

"Hello my dears , aggrieved letter in the post from Mrs Cox . Apparently she's been treated abysmally by on a certain Mr Bryan Ferry 's fan-site ( not official I might add) . I don't know why she likes a man so into ferries but she's a bit eccentric . As you can imagine I was absolutely alarmed to hear this . I read on and discovered he was in a band called Roxy Music . Even now Mrs Mooney is gathering the villagers to boycott the local cinema ( I'm not sure she's got it quite right ..but that's her allover ). We are inviting Mrs Cox to tea to cheer her up and she has promised to bring some of her 78s by this man so we can hear them. I will be writing to the Queen about this matter as she has been a loyal fan she must have paid for at least a vase in his house which we demand backand possibly keep. After all we could do with a nice vase. Anyone who cares to sign our petition will have to see Luzbel as he will be popping over to your side to take it to no 10 . I shall make it clear to Gordon this is more important than the credit crunch as over the years Mrs Cox has invested in Mr Ferry's bank-balance quite heavily "

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

Another page from Mrs Nito's diary

( Click to read in more detail. )

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 .