A Cautionary Tale

Folks do say tis the season of merriment and revells so I durst treat mysell down the market. I fished the pond through and dragged out near enough coppers to give over for a batch of they new fangled cloots pegs. But they did splinter to dust in my fingers when I did try to hang the laundry on the barb wire. So I just go back to the old ways and drape the smocks on the thorn bushes.

The Good Old Days are Lost Forever and Gone for a Burton

Tis nearly time for the harvest festivities but we done already picked the tomato and made broth to see us through the winter months. I niver did see such a time for poor pickings, the apple be the size of a tomato and the tomato be scarcely bigger than a blackcurrant. Tis not like the old days when the lord used to come round arter the shooting and offer us all a pair o nice juicy rooks to set us right. I still can nearly smile when I do think about the time when he ask Ada how many rooks she did want and she turned round and said, None, Sire because I ain't got no garden. Foolish Ada she be such a townie that she did think of hanging the rooks up to scare the varmints away from the taters and coddles. Well the lord turned round and sent her straight off to Cook to learn her how to cook a fine rook pie. The gentry ain't what they used to be, and that's as true as a Starkadder mile.

A Lonesome Hound Appears

Well I been a toiling and a moiling all the long days of summer and now here we be with autumn upon us and nary a pippin or a scroggin to show for all that moiling and toiling in the heaving rains. Twill be a shabby harvest festival for sure. I be standing by the ole tree searching for signs of apples when the fox come leaping out the hedge like the old nick himsell was arter him. Then a lone hound come chasing him but there were no huntsman or shouts of tantivvy to be seen nor heard. Where do such a hound come from, all by itsell with no pack nor masters? Tis a worrisome portent when the hounds depart the pack. The damsons did all rot afore August was out and I dinna know how we can eat with no fruit on the vine.

A sign from above

We do have thunder and hail the size of cormorants eggs falling hard from the heavens so the fleece do be wet enough for us to discern the favour of God on our plan so here I be sending the slide of our gathering place, a humble edifice it be true but fit enow for poor Quivering folk such as we.

Well tis a long weary time since I be able to get mysell out to the posting box. I be afeard to put a foot outside the yard gate since the wild mob were howling in the dusk. But now I do find myself in a quandry. While I been shutting myself in I did wonder about sending a magic lantern slide of the humble abode of the Quivering Brethren. I be concerned about putting the graven images out as maybe folk would think such things were Papish idols and then the folk might attend the gatherings for impure reasons for the niceness and beauty of the building and then we would be in such danger, we may be starting a foot down the slope and afore we know what happens, we would be kissing the papal ring. I did ask the elder and he said he would lay it afore the Lord in prayer over the night and if the fleece be dewy in the dawn then we may send the slide. The mice are disporting in the corn sack and there be a dead fox stuffed inside the badger sett.

Nature Green and Raw

We be under attack now from every which way. There be something nasty in the pond making green slime bubbles and still countless frogs disporting in the murkiness. I went to take the towel off of the bushes as it be nearly bath day and had such a scare I be shaking and quivering as I were bit by a giant buzzing bee. Then the old gander stabbed his beak in me good leg.

Deluge

Midweek the rains came like the floods and the frogs left the pond.  They were hopping and creeping and stacking all over the yard and even in the shed.  Could hardly put a foot outside without it squelching and squalling.

I never did see anything to match it in all my born days, no I never did.  Was like a veritable plague of Egypt come again and Amos did say it was a sign of the end times as the frogs be the familiar sign of fhe false prophets who will arise at the last days foretelling the doom of the world and all that is in it.

Well it be the seventh night now and the world still be here.  The frogs be back in their rightful place now but the buzzard is waiting down by the old badger site so I don't think we be out of the woods yet, not by a very long piece of string.

Screech Screech

My how those foxen and vixen do make such screeching and howling about out there in the dark night surrounding the humble shack,.   I hardly dare creep out to the woodpile to fetch in another twig to stoke the fire.

And I done spend weeks upon weeks cleaning up the pond making it all nice and clean and tidy.  Then them frogs come in and mess it all up again with their antics like it was never done.   The elder tree been cut down by hands unknown and the water ceased to run.

A Special Day

Seein as it be nigh on a score and half dozen years since me and Amos sealed our fate tis time to share what be our favourite repast

Stuffed chine
Chine, parsley, marjoram, mace, salt, leeks or chives

Soak the chine one night in water having first weighed it.  Wipe dry then cut well into the bone on  both sides.  Mix stuffing made up of the other ingredients press it well into each split, wrap up in cloth and boil allowing half an hour for each other pound.

It was taken from the back of a big fat pig.  My grandmowther used this recipe when she was young.  She has been dead about thirty five years and she was nearly seventy five when she died.

A fleeting glimpse

Tis so unseasonable I be sat here with nary a fire in the grate.  Amos be sick the other week so he did say we could break out the logs under the ole sheet for a treat.  I see the poor boys from the middle gathering a few sticks in the woods at dusk most days now.

Strange happenings the other night, when I did go out to put the old gander indoors, there be flashing lights seen  from the cricket pavilion.  Gave me the screaming nadgers it did, I can tell you for sure.  Then when I got indoors there was a fairy cake in Reuben's place with the top all chewed away.  What can this mean?   It be the gumprints of an enormous cat.

New year old clothing

I treated mysell to some new buttons the other week.  Well, I say new, they were from the old army stores counter so they been used afore, I well reckon.  I sewed them on the jacket that I been given from the rectors wifes friends mother when she passed away.  Then I thought to mysell, I be using the thread from my departed uncle's widder to sew these here ex naval buttons on. What  portent be this for the coming year?