Amos be returned with the new thresher - it be only five and a score years old. Does have a nasty rattle in the engineering area.
Took myself to the gathering of the Quivering Brethren yester eve. The head elder has had a vision of mushrooms growing in a pasture in June which he has divined to be a divine message for all the Brethren in Darset to meet at field gathering after Midsummer.
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Strange to say, missus, I once received a vision of mushrooms quivering in a field. I was in a field of mushrooms at the time. All a-quiver, they was, as if afeared I would eat some more of them. When the effects passed I found myself up a tree. But whether 'twas the Lord's marvellous work, or the wicked machinations of Satan, I cannot say.
ReplyDeleteOi be quiverin' at the thought of they mushrooms. Are thee sure they bain't pisonous? Ee niver knows what the divel will put in thy way to tempt ee, my soul.
ReplyDeleteMushrooms be God's creatures, surely. Satan can create nothing in this world but mischief and wickedness and sorrow, though 'tis certain we do bring a burden of such ills upon ourselves by being born sinners and so deserving of divine chastisement. We mun bear it as best we can, though God knows, 'tis hard.
ReplyDeleteIf someone asks you whether or not to eat some fungi they "found growing on the lawn", refuse to answer. If you answer "yes" and they fall ill they will blame you. And if you answer "no" they will blame you for stopping them eating mushrooms. It's a mug's game.
ReplyDeleteDear Mrs Starkadder,
ReplyDeleteI really must apologize for the dreadful abuse of my blogger identity (I think one calls it) by my son Justin. I am afraid that where deception for practical joking is concerned, he knows little restraint.
I have changed my password so I trust that will be an end of the matter. I hope it will not have escaped your attention that the remarks above are quite out of character for me, and that you will forgive my lack of circumspection.
Yours sincerely,
Anastasia Kirov-Renshaw (the real one).
P.S. Do 'Facebook' me for a little chat any time you are feeling particularly depressed. I have had some trials in my time, and we farmers' wives must stick together.
Last time Amos ate wild mushrooms he came over all peculiar and declared himself to be at the door of death.
ReplyDeleteBut he do that ever so regular, mushrooms or no.
I do miss they old puffballs, though. We ain't spied a good puffball in the woods for nary a season.
Dear Mrs Kirov-Renshaw
ReplyDeleteI be deeply honoured by your kindly invite to a chat. Maybe better to warn ee that I be a farmer's wife as much as Eileeb be an Arch-Druid.
Yours humbly
J Starkadder (mrs)
Absolutely. I removed the hyphen from Archdruid for liturgical reasons years ago.
ReplyDeleteDid it hurt much?
ReplyDeleteWith an anaesthetic you barely feel a thing. It would have been much worse if it were a colon.
ReplyDeleteGives I the screaming nadgers just to think about it, it do indeed. Must be even more harrowing than when Amos had his superfluous apostrophe extracted with a bit of twine tied to the door hands.
ReplyDeleteWhich end was it?
ReplyDeleteThe small end.
ReplyDelete