Tuesday, 25 March 2008

The Spoon Collector

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.

Breaking news
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

Wednesday, 5 March 2008

Mommy Dearest

It's the same year after year. Yet again on Mother's Day I wake with a thumping hangover playing double bass in a jazz quartet. Oh, these parties. The night before, Mr and Mrs Sheepwash from down the road threw a bash to mark their 30th wedding anniversary - child bride, she was. Anyway, it was a great night but I forgot to put my contact lenses in and spent the entire evening sharing an armchair with a friend who had also forgotten to put in her lenses. Between us, we gazed into each other's eyes because we were the only people we could see who weren't blurred. We solved all the world's problems while we drank the white wine lake dry.
So, for Mothering Sunday, no bellringing for us because a) we got up too late and b) the daughter and grand-daughter visited with a chocolate cake so it seemed like a good excuse not to go up the church tower steps and risk a nasty fall and tinnitus from those bells. The day before, a huge bouquet arrived from the prodigal son from Uni (fleeting thoughts crossed my mind of a secret admirer but I was pleased they were from Number 1 Son as two years ago he completely forgot, and he still lived with me then. I did think, however, I must be giving him too much money a month if he can afford to throw money down the Interflora wishing well). We spent the day entertaining the mother-in-law and 20 others to whom we were not related at an 80s throwback hotel in Devon where the food was crap and the service wasn't much better. I kept expecting Joan Collins to sashay in with shoulder pads, big hair and a menu pad. How we put up with such rubbish all over the country is beyond me but if we don't complain, what should we expect?
I came home to find a posy on the bath outside the front door, delivered by one of the churchwardens I think, from the church service earlier in the day. The bath had been left outside the front door because we've just had a new one put in, even though we're selling the house. Well, would you buy a house with a 1970s-style pampas-coloured bathroom suite? Of course not, so I'm sure the new white one from Wickes will make all the difference. Anyway, the bath was left out for a passing farmer to pick up and take to the fields to use as a feeding trough. Within a day, the bath disappeared, so who needs trips to the tip when you can recycle like this? Only problem is, the house has now been re-named The Old Bath House by some local wags who only have to see something for five seconds and it becomes part of village folklore.

Breaking news
A tramp called in to the Lent Lunch at the hall, had a bowl of soup and a pudding and then asked for more. More? A tramp wanting more??

I thought I saw a blackbird attacking another in a hedgerow but on closer inspection he was pinning a female down with his beak while she squawked for him to get off. The animal world has so many similarities to our own.

The most exciting thing on the horizon is the parish meeting - wow, can't wait. In fact, think we'll go on holiday for the week just to avoid it.

Lamp posts are still intact, no-one has taken out a shotgun to them - yet.

A retired policeman has told me two lesbians who run a tea shop in a nearby village had previously been done for running a brothel. 'Would you like milk with that sir, or just massage oil?'

That's about it
Love Maddie X

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