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March 16, 2009
Spring hopes eternal in the human breast.
The Spring never fails to inspire bouts of frenzy and tentative glimpses of flannel as the villagers gather for Matins. The daffodils have succeeded the snowdrops in the church yard and in a quinzane we will be gathering for the annual tomb scrub.
However, this Sunday it was not just the nominations for a new churchwarden to replace Josiah Tallowbender, but the arrival of a new Knight from overseas. The Knights occupy the front two pews on the South Side. This is of some aggravation, as a rule, on account of their frequent inattention during the sermons and fidgeting through the ferial responses. If I had a bright penny for everytime my versicles have been rudely interrupted by spurs or swords clashing I would have a shilling by now. But the new Knight, Sir Loin Bien Cuit is a gentle and cultured man and has already created a good deal of excitement among the ladies and seems to be a calming influence at the Round Table and even in Matins. His 'Bonjour Madame' as he rides through the village bustle has even Drab Gwen all of a blush and fuster. There hasn't been this much excitement since the cow jumped over the moon.
The healer in Oat Cottage has been planting her cabbages. She says that the conditions are auspicious with Venus so bright in the South. The Spring is a busy time for her with so much frenzy to be dealt with. Mr Kipling and Miss Muffet, spinster and sometime carder, took tea with her recently. I was surprised, as Mr Kipling has very little time for brassica cures. 'Let them eat cake' is his answer to most of the ailments in the village. Even Mrs Minchin has had sebaceous emissions but the fierce young nettle shoots are perfect for a vibrant infusion and this week she has been able to remove her veil without causing serious faints. Such was the general concern that Sir Jekyll appliance forgot his 'lactose intolerance' and has indulged in dairy products with no obvious harmful effects. We are saying nothing.
So,on my list of things to do this week is 'clean my windows'. If that isn't completed I will have very little idea of the comings and goings in the village store and the healer's cottage. There are to be some dramatic entertainments in the hall, not the bearded ladies, sadly, but the notorious Wimbourne St Giles. His renditions of Milton, John not Keynes, were the talk of the Deanery when he was last here. The stage curtains don't brush themselves.
Before I do anything I hear horses hooves approaching. It might be Sir Bien Cuit, not that I am really bothered, but his horse might leave something unctuous for garden use.
Posted by Martha at March 16, 2009 08:30 AM