3 Mar:
Village Newspaper Headline:
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‘Local Hoodlums Make Fortune On Black Market As Gentlefolk Seek Winks’
The local constabulary admit to being in a total conundrum as to what to do about the sudden surge in demand for winks. As mealy mouthed wives and hot headed husbands keep a regular tally on their spouses blink count, woe betide the lover who has one missing. For whom have they spent it on? When, where and why? Are they wasted with reckless abandon on harlots or Jezebels or on fitness addicts jogging in tight clothing? It appears no one has the answer. Officers call for peace at this time and request that all villagers refrain from ‘any behaviours which may be considered as aggressive’. The vicar calls for an end to all winking, saying, “It should be banned with immediate effect.”
Question: A blink occurs from a pair of eyes closing for just a mere second does it not? So, if someone loses (cough cough) a blink from one of their eyes (phnar phnar), does it then leave behind a solo blink which we then might term to be a wink? I only ask because the local children seem to be turning into modern day entrepreneurs, spending their playtime wink hunting; for when a wink leaves the eye it is gifted to the air like seed from a depleted dandelion. Children are charging a penny for a wink and making a mint. The losers of singular blinks who happen to be married etc, need to replace it quickly before they are found out. I do hope this makes sense.
In the past, wink collecting was considered just a harmless bit of fun, such as gathering conkers, where charmfree, snotty nosed children would scratch up their boots in dusty lanes and thoroughfares, occasionally stumbling upon the odd wink. After dropping it into a jam jar, it would be stored upon a windowsill to be briefly admired as a trophy of sorts. Sadly, however, all too often these winks were soon forgotten about, found lifeless and unresponsive a week or so later, heartlessly discarded and put out with the trash. Now we hear that these days, ‘The Urchins’ (as they have termed themselves), are now favouring the local park as a hangout, for there are undoubtedly an abundance of winks to be discovered which can be sold to the guilty…for a profitable price. There be little doubt that winking occurs on a regular basis in the park, whether it be in the direction of a pretty young lady or a perambulator pushing nanny. Though a couple of names are being branded about as ‘regular receivers’, notably the local lusty dairymaid, Adeline, and her competitor, the fiery plough puller that be Titty Cuddleworthy. Both women are known to be regular recipients of many a risky wink.
Furthermore, it is said that the village is rife with jealous partners and spouses, all discreetly working to keep a watchful eye on their beloved’s ‘blink count’. Thus, ‘the winkers’ need to level up their blink tallies before they are found out and thus punished.
Why, it was only last week that my dearest friend, Violetta, sat in The Parlour, woefully weeping and wretched, dabbing at her briny tears with the corners of a linen napkin, sobbing and stammering that she had been scorned by her lover for another; some temporarily tempting wench (Violetta actually said ‘tart’). I said, “No dear, that's a tart,” and pointed to a lemon pastry before managing to calm her down with a camomille tisane. After which I called her to prayer. My word, what harm can a mere wink do? I then advised that she might wink at her beloved during supper this evening, in order ‘to let him know that you know…’ The suggestion appeared to cheer her up somewhat and off she went swishing her skirts with a smile on her puffy but prettily perfect face.
10 Mar:
Requested that Mr WH purchase a pamplemousse from his journey to market tomorrow. Taken aback he’d replied, “But my dear, I thought you were strictly vegetarian? Is one coming over all carnivorous?” Rolling my eyes I’d replied that it was a grapefruit and suggested that we might share it as part of the morrow’s breakfast. After tittering like the television cartoon dog, Muttley, he chuckled loudly, “Oh, jolly good, old bean, ha! You had me worried there for a minute. Crumpets for tea? Has Adeline delivered the dairy? I do hope there's some freshly churned butter…” Adding that he might go and walk Chumley, I presumed that he was planning to call in at The Tavern, thus requested that he might wait for me, “I'll come with you dear, just give me a minute or two to locate a shawl, I could do with a stroll. By the way, mine’s a stout and if I may, could I ask for a nibble on the side as I am feeling somewhat peckish? At which he chuckled, once again with that uncanny resemblance to Muttley, before whispering, “Calm down pickle, there's always time for a nibble…”
17 Mar:
Mr Bingley, famous for his singing toupee and his enchanting but hirsute partner, Celestina Edina Pirot, the revered travelling psychic from Bohemia called by, along with their faithful companion Prețios, the cleverest of all monkeys. Prețios performs for audiences worldwide by hanging upside down from the top of a cherry picker. Secured only by one foot, he swings like a pendulum whilst juggling his magic marbles. Today, even though they were short of time, they kindly stopped by for a little refreshment and to bring me some ethically sourced tisanes which will be used to comfort my friends and fellow villagers during their times of great need. That is, until the police find out~joke~
Purchased two little plum trees for the potager called Psyche and Persephone. Going to plant one near to the bird box in the hopes that it attracts a pair of tits…tweet tweet!
24 Mar:
Paid a visit to another Emporium to look for objets d'art and whilst nothing of any interest caught our eye, something rather odd appeared to be coating the curios; a clear, watery substance, weirdly slimy and very sticky. Made the mistake of wiping my hands on my only tissue and thus spent the rest of the time sniffing away like a pig for a truffle. To say that the atmosphere was extremely cold is an understatement and one just sensed that something sinister lurked in the shadows. Who knows? That said, there were some rather nice full length mirrors, though I cautiously advised Mr WH not to pause by them for too long~@BeadofBreath~phnar!
Mr WH took Chumley to the park for some exercise as he has gotten rather portly of late. He also wanted to pop in on the vicar, no doubt for a schooner of sherry. I stayed home with Muttlet, our wiry two-toothed terrier, whom I believed to be happily root snuffling out in the potager. He used to be able to destroy a large parsnip in eight seconds flat when he had more teeth, though these days he tends to just sleep a lot, in the warmth of the washroom, tucked up inside an old tin bath. Alas, I was mistaken and soon found out that he had climbed up onto the kitchen worktop and had pilfered through all sorts. Muddy paws prints were everywhere, along with some apples, untouched but for the fact that they each had two teeth marks in them. The most annoying thing, however, was that he had licked all the jammy heart centres out of a batch of freshly baked biscuits. Needless to say, he soon became bloated and was probably suffering from a bellyache. That'll teach him, though he’s fine now, having slept it off from the comfort of his scrubbing tub.
31 Mar:
Discreetly mentioned to Adeline, when she delivered the dairy products this morning, that she was wearing only one stocking. I normally wouldn't have noticed had I not called her back in order to settle up our account; she usually just places the items outside the back door and scoots off aboard her homemade go-kart. Painted egg shell blue, it is utterly delightful. One day, I will hopefully be allowed to have a go in it but for now I digress. So, having pointed out to Adeline that she was a stocking short, the young lady seemed ambivalent to any impropriety, not the least bit embarrassed at such a faux pas! Unless, and I hate to say it, it was not an innocent oversight but a deliberate attempt to court attention. There, I’ve said it. Needless to say, she soon became the talk of the village. Everyone had gathered on Emmet's lawn to enjoy the afternoon sunshine and to watch the Ingleby-Darcy’s take on the Swingleton-Darwin’s at croquet. There she was, bold as brass, wandering in and out of the crowd, selling her dairy ice-creams like she hadn’t a care in the world. As one leg wore a stocking, the other was completely bare! Carefree and spiritedly, she chatted away to the locals whilst relieving them of their hard earned shillings, the males and innocent children anyway, such bizarre behaviour. Someone needs to speak to her father. Mr WH said he thought that she looked rather nice, in an artistic kind of way, I replied, “Oh, so you wouldn't mind if I threw half my stockings away then and wore them singularly? Would you think it nice if I sat down for tea with the vicar having a naked leg on show?” He answered that it would be rather inappropriate to do that, especially in front of a man of the cloth and exhibited a disgusted expression, some might term it, a grimace. I remain somewhat baffled because I know for certain that the vicar was there this afternoon, at the croquet, he was seen enjoying a sweet violet sundae and waving from his deckchair…
~Pip-pip, old beans. April cometh with her watering can. May I advise that you seek the whereabouts of a light mackintosh. Kudos to you, should you choose to pin a pretty brooch upon its lapel~
Mrs WH
