Easter has come and gone with a mystery surrounding an apostle spoon. A set of 12 were loaned for a hot cross bun morning at the village hall and only 11 turned up at the end. Bins were turned out, window sills checked, as were the spaces behind the radiators. Despite a fingertip search, no trace of the spoon (or fingertips) could be found. It is ironic on Good Friday, the day when Jesus was nailed to the cross after being betrayed by one of the 12, that an apostle spoon should go missing. Will we find it hanging, New Age art-like, from a Judas Tree? This is not the first time spoons have gone missing in this village. A cutlery drawer devoid of spoons was mentioned at a previous hall meeting, when votes and counter votes were taken to go out and buy some replacements. The steel spoon enthusiasts won the day against the fans of the plastic variety and a representative was tasked to get some more. This stock has now dwindled, hence the need to borrow the set of apostle spoons from the caretaker. There is someone in this village, sitting in a wood-panelled living room surrounded by wall-mounted spoons from various sources. They probably caress them each night before putting them to bed in a velvet-lined drawer. You know who you are, so cough up.
Scooter Boy's silencer has developed a new fault. He is now on shift work and can be heard all times of the day roaring through the village.
The county council have accepted they were in the wrong (partly) over the new street lights and we are patiently waiting for something to be done about it. A back plate was promised on the light in front of the house next door last August but nothing has happened.
The cold weather has not seen any more clothes placed on the nymph in the garden at the entrance to the village. Still she stands there, with a wet tartan scarf draped around her neck. The girl could do with a coat, if nothing else.
The union flag has been flying on the church tower over the Easter weekend. Unfortunately its rope has been flapping against the flagpole, keeping all sorts of people awake. A raiding party is expected soon, along the lines of the Hilary expedition up Everest.
There are far too many Rah-Rah types in the village this Easter, staying in holiday cottages or with friends. A Hugh Grant-smile does not do you any favours here you know. Rather the opposite.
'Never turn down an invitation' is one of my neighbour's favourite sayings. As a result, we had two roast dinners on Sunday - one at lunchtime and one in the evening. Time for a bit of egg rolling, I think, to get the fat off.
That's about it
Love Maddie X
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