1 Dec:
~Décembre~
‘And a parsnip in a pear tree’
Hosted a pre-Christmas charity luncheon for the vicar who had amongst others, bought Titty along as his +1. Given that she knew she was banned she still had the nerve to turn up. Arrgh! The way that she calls him ‘viccur’ really grates on me, so much so that I have to seriously bite my tongue. There I go again, who am I to be so judgemental? Please believe me when I say that I do not think myself to be above her or anyone else for that matter. In fact, I am thinking of calling a truce between us. I don't know, perhaps this will go some way to help soften those unhelpful thoughts and opinions that I am inclined to have. And, I am not ashamed to admit it dear diary, that any coldness between us appears to stem from myself and myself alone, she has rather a kind heart and is well liked.
Overall, the event was a success, although I was pretty sure that Muttlet had been at the profiteroles, his calling card of just one tooth mark was all over them, from what I could see anyway. I had the trifle and played safe, plus I know for certain that he dislikes sherried jelly with a passion.
~The Nutseller’s Chagrin~
Mr WH took me aside one morning to whisper in my ear that he needed to speak to me upon the closure of The Parlour that evening. It was, he said, something that required complete discretion. I was later informed that a ‘Mr Simeon Bowler of Westminster’ would be calling on Monday 16th, sometime between eleven and three and my husband was relying on me to escort him down to the cellar, to his laboratory. Once there, he should knock three times before stating the correct line of the correct rhyme, that of which he would be fully aware of. However, I was to make certain of his credentials and to only show him down if I had observed a specific symbol which would be located somewhere on his I.D card. Furthermore, I must ensure that no-one else would be around at that time.
Wow. I mean Wow! What on earth was going on? Was my beloved placing me into what could possibly be a dangerous situation?
“Erm, I'm not quite sure that I'm comfortable with such cloak & dagger shenanigans,” I complained, “it all sounds so very odd. What if it's not the correct symbol? What do I say then?”
Following further discussion I was assured that I had absolutely nothing to worry about as this was only standard procedure. Thus, I relented, at the same time wondering what I would do if Violetta or Odile happened to call by the kitchen. After all, they are both aware that I have been extremely busy baking ginger cake and other kinds of scrumptiousness.
8 Dec:
~A Short Theatrical Performance: Part of a seasonal fundraising event in The Church Hall~
‘The Footpad’s Demise’
~
Starring The Vicar as ‘John Bennett’
Introducing village sensations Violetta Stockbridge as ‘Countess de Boniface’
and our very own Letitia Cuddleworthy as ‘Miss Muriel Disgrace’
Tickets £10 from ‘Jayne’s Junk n’ Treasure Yard’ [next door to the fly-tipping heap on Stealth Street]. Tea/coffee/squash & biscuits complimentary, cake contributions most welcome.
As per usual Mr WH had been asked to headline, however, had declined stating he was far too busy to commit. He had already been booked to read the role of Scrooge in an adaptation of ‘A Christmas Carol’ - a radio broadcast. Thus, on the back of their alleged success on the recently aired television programme, (where the camera had lingered upon Violetta’s pretty face numerous times before resting upon Kitty’s cleavage - for far too long in my opinion) it was announced that the main female roles in this year's short winter play were to be played by them both, with the male lead going to the vicar.
And the curtains drew back…“Cue Ms Cuddleworthy…”
“For he be a disciple, a disciple of the drink
It had got him good, be his only master
Loitering in the darkness
Coins, silver, jewels, whatever
It payed for his grog and a lonely bed
Until that time when fate did turn
The carriage, the Captain, the dutch courage
A mistress to impress
Did face him for a challenge
Pistol fire the scream and sobs
BANG!
And he be no more
And he drink no more
And he breathe no more
John Bennett now lies in his grave…”
The applause had been rapturous but soon everyone was rushing towards the door; afterall seats are limited in the local alehouse. And, as window panes steamed, the warmth from a well kept log fire lit up the face of sweet Violetta who was in her element. Kitty, struggling to keep up with a set of new admirers, could not hide her obvious delight and it was at that moment I caught sight of my husband who has seemed so melancholic of late. Unaware that I was watching him, his gaze fixed solely upon his glass before he paused to tease back the hair that tickled his face. Checking his timepiece, he closed his eyes as if to relax whilst I myself wondered where on earth it was that his mind so very often disappeared to…
15 Dec:
The important day arrived and time seemed to be passing by so slowly. Busying myself with the dishes I gazed out of the window to see the sweet nutseller, Posey, over in the distance. Frozen by the cold, she shuffled her feet whilst attempting to warm up her hands, holding them as close as possible to the hot roaster. My mind recalled the difference between seeing her in the warmer months, where she was the happy-go-lucky flower seller that could brighten up even the most miserable of day, I really wanted to take her some steaming tea or something but was all to aware that should Mr Bowler call by, I might miss him, making my husband far from happy. I did not wish to let my beloved down, this was something of a strong importance. Attempting to ignore a sense of guilt, I pushed it aside and continued to labour on a while longer. That was, until my gaze dropped down towards my feet, to the wooden floor below them. It was then that the urge to peep took hold and any self control became abandoned. Without thinking, I pulled back the floor mat, threw myself down and adjusted my position to settle my eyes against the wonderful peep holes…Mmm…where is he? I thought, what exactly is going on? So many secrets…
It was then that the incident happened.
Posey, having decided to call over to see me, had peered into the kitchen when passing by the window. Upon seeing me stretched out like that, laid down on the floor, had wrongly presumed that I had fallen ill, maybe she thought me only a little conscious. Without hesitation, she attempted to wrestle me into the recovery position and would have undoubtedly begun to administer first aid had she not been thwarted by my brutish protestation.
“I say, what on earth is going on,” an unfamiliar voice continued, “is one alright? What the devil..?”
There was Mr Bowler, standing there looking all official whilst holding a rather large briefcase. Struggling to regain my composure, I stood myself up, making a futile attempt to tame my wild hair. “Oh! Mr Bowler I presume? Yes, sorry, I'm fine. Just give me a second or two won't you. Oh dear!” Gasping for air, I was more than a little embarrassed, I turned towards my friend, “Posey! What on earth were you thinking!”
“But you were passed out, lying there, down on the cold floor. You were face down and motionless. I thought…I thought…I thought that you were…”
“You thought that I was WHAT?!” It was at that moment that she caught sight of the peep holes and before she could say anything more the words just spewed from my mouth,
“Don't-be-silly-child! I had merely bent down to tie up a bootlace, that was all!”
The words were spat with venom; I sounded cruel. And, as I stood there shaking my head, I could feel the glare raging in my eyes. Holding my gaze for a little longer than necessary, the young girl wore an expression that will never leave me.
Cutting through the silence, her voice merely whispered the words, “I'm sorry, I obviously read it all wrong. I’ll be on my way if you’ll forgive me, I meant you no harm, I was mistaken.”
And with that she was gone, though not without leaving behind her the imprint of a hurtful disappointment and the echoes of a friendship sadly forever fractured.
“Mr Bowler, please would you follow me.” And, as I paused by the door to call out to my husband, I told myself that this had darn well better be worth it.
~
22 Dec:
A Disenchantment’s Farewell
*~*
“My dear, could I have a word?”
“Of course, what is it?”
“Have you been peeping?”
“Peeping? What on earth do you mean?”
“Are you sure? You’re not fibbing again are you?”
“No, of course not dear! But why do you ask?”
“You have a mark around your right eye. It looks rather sore. You don’t want to spoil Christmas for yourself again by snooping do you? Remember how disappointing it is when you have no surprises…”
And then the special day arrived…
My husband appeared somewhat giddy that morning, like an excited child. Following our usual breakfast of coffee, toast and homemade preserves, he beckoned us all out into the garden, whereupon our gaze settled on the most extraordinary flying machine I have ever seen. “Well? What are you waiting for?” he teased, “Fancy a trip to the far side of the moon?” And, even though it took us a while to settle ourselves in, to safely secure our belts, before we knew it we were off, flying high above the clouds, waltzing and scooping the sky, surfing the breeze like professionals. Held tightly by hands of the sky sylphs, we navigated the wintry winds that twisted and shuttled, as if on a fairground ride. And, as we continued to skim across a Christmas skyline, I peered down onto the village below where I could just about make out some of our dearest friends. It was easy to name the slight form of Violetta, as she turned to secure her gate latch whilst Odile was retrieving a Yule wreath that had escaped from her door. Lights in the church were bright and welcoming but there would be no church for us today or tomorrow.
“Darling, I want to retire,” he shouted across, “I want us to travel the world and to have a blast whilst we still can. Won't you join me? The four of us could do it together. What do you say?”
“I’d say that that sounds like an exceptionally wonderful idea. I thought you were planning on leaving me, I thought you were growing weary with it all.”
“Leaving you? Never. Not on your Nelly.” He turned towards the pooches, both wide eyed from backseat bewilderment. “What do you say boys, shall we throw caution to the wind?”
And as Chumley yawned, Muttlet scratched away at his ear. “I think that's a yes then”…he chuckled.
Placing my hand onto his, I felt so much love in my heart. This is what he has been planning for and it was the best Christmas gift ever. Will we ever be able to return to this way of life again? Someday maybe, but who knows when that will be. You dear diary, will just have to wait and see…
29 Dec:
And there we have it. We are set for an adventure most extraordinaire. Over the moon and far away to who knows where. Will we be missed? Who knows, but life goes on and sharing it with those you love the most is the best that it can ever be, don't you agree?
~The End~
C’est la fin des haricots.
We hope that you have enjoyed this year-long insight into our daily lives here at our little homestead. I have found it simply delightful, recording our experiences for you all and we both, along with Chumley and Muttlet, wish you all a very happy and healthy new year.
“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask, "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
~Erin Hanson~
~Farewell my dear ones, until we meet again~
~~~~~~
xMrs WHx
