Wedding Bells

I have left Jeeves to sort out the cat and iron the shirts before we head off tomorrow to the charming village of Chutley Wootley. It's somewhere to the far north of here I think he said.

It's not every day one is invited to the wedding of a daughter of a man of the cloth. And when that man is good old Basher Banningham Banningham the reply in the affirmative left chez nous faster than Charlie's Darling was out of the starting blocks in the 230 at Sandown last week. Basher is a legend in Chutley Wootley. They say he speaks the local lingo now like a native and is partial to the ale brewed in those parts. His thundering oration at the wedding breakfast has been eagerly awaited in those parts for weeks.

His daughters are gems. Basher says the men of the village have even been known to fight amongst themselves over whether Sarah is a diamond and Amy a ruby or Amy is a sapphire and Sarah a pearl.

It's a rum thing but my dear friend Madeline Bassett will hitch her fetlocks to some prince guy tomorrow in London. Matrimony must be catching. Along came the invite but even Jeeves could not find a way of making us appear at Westminster Abbey tomorrow and Chutley Wootley on Saturday what with the state of the roads between the two and steam trains be known to disappear from the tracks never to arrive in those northern parts. I almost heard a sigh of relief on the telephone when I conveyed the news to Aunt Dahlia that I was already tied up.

Barmy Fungy Phipps is a man with an eye for the sporting chance. He told me that so much of the folding stuff has been placed on the Royal Wedding running in the Crabbie's Alcoholic Ginger Beer Handicap Chase at Fontwell tomorrow at 530 that the bookies refused to take his bet. So he has speculated a bundle on Madeline being 20 minutes late up the aisle.

So after an hour's banter at the Drones with Barmy and Tubby Prosser our combined brains agreed an each way wager on Madeline and Sarah both being 20 minutes late to the starting post so to speak.

 For once there was nothing in Jeeves form book to help.

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner!

Yesterday was that great coming together of St Georges Day, the birthday of William Shakespeare and the birthday of FLN.

We toyed with the idea of a visit to Villa Park in his honour to see the home team play Stoke but I think the flash backs might have proved too sharp. And the thought of Stoke and their muscular approach to the beautiful game sort of sealed the decision.

So we went off to Stratford to enjoy the sunshine and the river. Falstaff himself might have marveled at the queue outside the fish and chip shop. Last time we were there we enjoyed the "sonnet sleuth" a handout with a series of word puzzles based on Shakespeare's sonnets which were linked to buildings and sites throughout the town.

So I thought I might take up the idea and move it on a touch. My title comes from All's Well That End's Well and could be just the caption for my photo. Can you not just see that mischievous grin peering over the gravy as he tries to hide the content of his pie from the reindeer mistress??

Can you think of another? Not necessarily Shakespearean of course. But how about:

"He hath eaten me out of house and home"

which is about Falstaff himself from Henry IV part II. Or more likely here a reference to the English Blogger, who having stripped the Rosary Road  fridge and larder bare compelled our hero, against his better judgement, of course, to quench his hunger at the match with a succulent pie!

So I promise a pie of your choice to the best caption suggestion and in the meantime will make sure I eat  a steak and kidney myself, preferably the Hollands variety, before I am that much older.

Strengthening Medicine....

...is wot Tigger's like. Or more precisely they like extract of malt!

I know a few people right now who could do with some strengthening medicine. I read the story again this week how Jesus struggled in the Garden of Gethsemane and an angel came and strengthened him. I wonder what he did - or said - or may be he did and said nothing but was just there.

I have a friend who longs to see an angel. But until such time as the angel turns up and dispenses his strengthening medicine I can only offer my own home brewed recipe. It relies on a generous dollop of ear, concentrate of brown eye and absence of tongue and tripe.

And for afters there is always extract of malt.

Beware the return of the Sallywufter

There are stories long lost in the annals of the Shire about the rule of the Sallywinder. White haired and well proportioned she wielded her rolling pin like the staff of Gandalf the white wizard.

Hobbits came from miles around to taste her meat pies, her fruit pies, cakes, trifles and, ah yes, her ginger biscuits. No one could withstand her at the card table and her sling shot with a piece of coke smote the fiercest Orc.  Saruman himself cowered in his lair before her.

Years have gone by in the times of Middle Earth. Legend had it the Sallywinder left behind a shaker of magical powers, the possession of which at the time of the birth of a future generation, would usher in the rule of the Sallywufter.

And now the word has passed through the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan of the pending birth of one who will unleash the power of the shaker and the appearance of the Sallywufter. It is said she slays her foes with her hot iron and overpowers her adversaries with the dust of the earth and the power of her bleach.

And so Sauron sends out his agents to seek the shaker to destroy it. For he knows he cannot withstand the rule of the Sallywufter.

The love of my life.....

I returned from an afternoon out with Teapot yesterday  and picked up my radio along with a steaming cup full of Yorkshire's finest. Switching on I was immediately taken into Weekend's Woman's Hour. Now there is a programme where Timelord's ears venture as into a far flung galaxy.

I cam in on  a conversation between mothers about their sons. My ears were at their sharpest. Mothers' Day again.

One of the speakers was Miriam Stoppard She described her son as the love of her life.

What more can be said.

Except the anguish I felt today when I read of the killing of  Police Constable Ronan Kerr in Ireland, and thinking of his mother who has not long been widowed. My heart goes out to her.

Teapot and the VIP club

There are some things that leave you speechless. That kind of jaw dropping inability to utter a sound that comes when you are faced with a shock or surprise, or both, which is so big it short circuits the brain.

So it was this morning when I heard that Teapot has been a secret member of the VIP club for well over a year now. It could be longer for all I know. I should have known something was up with all the calls to That Bobby and the trips to Pacific Nurseries. The chat about Red Poles and the like with one and all on Facebook. The ever growing basket of unironed clothes. The layers of dust looking like the beginnings of a new sandstone strata in the paleozoic era. That alluring look of being lost in thought as she stirs the hourly cuppa.

I blame it on all the trips to France and somewhere in all this is the Grenoble Guru. I am sure he is helping her translate copies of Les Petits Guides des Parasseuses.

So she is now trying to organise a Four Oaks Chapter. I knew something was up during the week when she was deep in conversation with the Glamorous Granny to be. Trying to recruit her no doubt.

Help!

Comic Relief

There is not much of that around just now what with the unimaginable earthquake and tsunami in Japan and its consequences, the vicious assaults by the Libyan government on its rebellious cities and the air and missile attacks from western countries. And all that hard on the heels of the storms and floods in Queensland and Sri Lanka, and earthquakes in Haiti and New Zealand.

But Friday was red nose day, the annual Comic Relief fund raising event with the slogan "do something funny for money" which has a big focus on poverty and health issues in Africa. Nearly 60,000 red noses have been sold since Comic Relief began in 1985. It is an event which usually passes me by but I just happened to spend an hour or so at the home of my good friend JT where the TV was tuned to the BBC Comic Relief programme.

There is something very uncomfortable about watching Miranda Hart one minute and desperately sick children in Kenya the next. The videos of David Tennant among children suffering from malaria were especially moving.

Comic Relief began in Sudan so my mind naturally went to my friend the Biscuit Addict in Juba where this shot was taken. She may not read this blog but she is everything Comic Relief is about. Malaria is described as "hyper-endemic" there and at the end of last year there was the worst outbreak of kala-azar for 8 years. This parasitic disease caused by the sand fly is 100% fatal unless treated.There are only 10 midwives in the whole of this emerging nation.

So my friend wherever you are right now red noses are all about you.