26th Nov 2012

Everybody there today and all stories were exceptionally good as I stayed attentive throughout the morning without drifting off. Ann started with a widow who seemed to get a new life when she lost her husband - should you be worried Bert? Sue recounted a story that could perhaps come from a previous life when a young squaw finds a protector for herself and her baby. Brian had s Black Monk running errands to set up a meeting for some mysterious goings on at Runnymede - I wonder what that was? Pat was still thinking of the turmoil in having a new carpet with all the other purchases to go with it. Hope no one spills the tea on our next meeting there. Joan Read got lost in a dictionary and the different meanings to words. Rosemary got tickled by a feather. My effort involved a horse and memories. Joan Devon wanderings as a child. John had us in tears with a death stalking a young woman. Sheila remembered riding a bike as a child. Sally scared us all with such a horrible description of an abused young girl by a smelly, stained teeth rapist who held her captive but she went to heaven in the end with a young brave. Rosemary and Sue won and as Rosemary hasn't mastered a computer and the typewriter is defunct here is the two page image of the story. Rosemary says sorry it is not in her best handwriting but she hadn't expected to win.

Next meeting 28th January "uneasy feeling"

Click image to make bigger

 

Gently

I lay Two Feathers gently on the springy turf, tickle his tummy and smile at him as I tuck the bright blanket more closely around his warm, soft body. He wriggles as he opens his mouth wide and gives me that heart-stopping toothless smile, then blows bubbles through his pursed lips as he kicks his legs in their confining wrappings and waves his podgy fists in the cool mountain air. He’s five months old now and thankfully healthy, with no sign of the ailments often suffered by young children in our village. I must make sure he gets plenty of nourishment as he grows. My milk is still plentiful and I must gather nuts, berries and roots to keep me healthy. This is difficult for me as my husband, Little Eagle, was killed before Two Feathers was born and I have to rely on handouts from other members of the tribe until a new brave, probably an older man without a squaw, who has children needing a mother’s care, will step forward and make me his woman. One or two are already eyeing me speculatively, but I don’t want them; I want to give all my time to my own baby until he is at least walking and able to look after himself a little.

I hum as I start gathering the ripe berries from the surrounding bushes. The trees are already clad in their fiery Autumn colours but the air is still warm in the sun, although it turns chill once it slides behind the mountains. I must hurry so I can return to the lodge before it gets too cold for Two Feathers. I continue to hum as I work, perfectly content in this peaceful setting.

I set the full basket of berries down and take up another to start gathering nuts. These are also a good source of food and will sustain us during the Winter months to come. As I work I glance up and there in front of me, screened by the bushes, is a deer, watching me but seemingly without fear. Her soft brown eyes regard me steadily for some minutes before she lowers her head and commences feeding, seeming to enjoy the companionship of our joint endeavours, accompanied by birdsong from the trees above.

I have almost filled my basket when my companion jerks her head suddenly, looks fearfully around, then turns and plunges into the denser forest, but not before looking into my eyes with an urgent message, it seems to me. I immediately glance all around, scrabbling at the same time to collect my baskets and lift Two Feathers into my arms. As I turn to flee I hear the dreaded sound of pounding hooves and the ear-shattering noise of the hated bugle of the men in blue.

I dart along the narrow trail leading to the village, then hesitate as another thought screams in my head – “Not that way. They must be at the village already. I can hear the awful noise of battle and screaming of the women and children.” Where can I run? I instinctively turn and plunge into the forest after the deer. Yes, there is the narrow track she must have followed. I run on, my breath coming in uneven gasps. I drop the baskets and concentrate on keeping my baby close, hoping he will not cry out, but he seems to think this is a new sort of game and crows in his cocoon of blankets as I race on.

The heart-wrenching sounds from the village begin to fade as I draw further away, but I am now climbing more steeply and my breath is tearing at my chest as I try to draw more air in. I risk a glance behind me, but no-one is following. It is as I turn to face uphill again that the huge figure carrying a rifle steps onto the trail in front of me and an arm shoots out to grab me. I let out a despairing cry, half scream, half moan, and know my fate is sealed.

It is now many moons later, I muse, as I sit on the stoop at the front of the cabin, gazing contentedly out upon the vista spread before me. We are high up in the mountains and it has been a harsh Winter, but Spring has arrived at last and the trees below me are wearing their new green leaves like featherlight cloaks which sway gently in the warm breeze. Two Feathers is crawling towards me and struggles to stand upright at my knee, burbling his nonsense as he does so. His smile now shows several even white teeth but is still a delight.

He turns as he hears the soft footfalls behind him, looks up at the tall man stooping to swing him aloft and gurgles happily, “Papa”.

22 Oct 2012

Only eight of us today I started with a story of the lost opportunity to change history. Joan told of Margaret looking back on her life. Sally's true story of very bad DIY. John A bank employee regretting a well planned robbery gone wrong. Sheila post war playing in dens. Rosemary dreaming of falling through the sky. Sue went for a ride on a broomstick.

Next month at Sue's "gently" Ann got most votes with this ghostly tale.


Quite an Idea Becky and I had been friends since childhood. We had grown up as next door neighbours and had always done everything together - going to the same school, joining the same youth club, leaving to start work at the same time and both going into office work, although to different firms. I was an only child and loved the fact I had a readymade friend nearby, but Becky had a brother just a couple of years older. We all played quite happily together when we were younger, but as we grew up Chris went off to join his own mates. We always considered ourselves as one big family though and always joined together for any family celebrations or outings. Chris went off to university and met Aimee. He started bringing her home for the odd weekend and we all got along famously. When they both graduated they got jobs teaching near her home in Somerset. No one was very surprised when they announced they had got a flat together and were engaged to be married. She asked Becky to be bridesmaid and we all went to the wedding in the pretty village church at Winford near her parent's home. Her family made us feel very welcome and it was like having another extended family. Over the next couple of years Becky and I went to visit Chris and Aimee several times at their flat in Bristol and it was on one of these occasions that they told us they were expecting. A few weeks before the baby was born they moved into a small house nearer her family. Jessica was born in July and the proud parents brought her down to see her relatives and courtesy aunts and uncle. I was thrilled to bits when they asked if I would be godmother along with Becky when she was christened. The christening was in October and Becky and I arranged to go up for the weekend. Her parents were going up for the week before to give a hand with the preparation for the christening - at least that was their excuse, but everyone knew it would be baby-worshipping week. As we had never been to the new house before we thought it would be quite an idea to make a route map as it was a bit off the beaten track.

Things were going very well until we came to the diversion sign. This would be fine if we could work out where it dropped us back onto the original route. The road was certainly very narrow and winding, although the scenery was very nice. We appeared to be approaching a small village called Moreton. There was a very picturesque water mill and I managed to get a shot of it on my phone as we went by. There was quite a lot of activity further along with everyone seeming to be heading towards a large building. It must be celebration of sorts, as everybody appeared to be in fancy dress. It was almost like being on a film set in the 1940's or 50's. They were all going into the gate of Chew Park house and farm and there was obviously a celebration as we could see tables laid out. Everyone seemed to be carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables. I asked Becky if she could stop while I took a few photos.

A young man smiled and waved very obligingly. We waved back then went on our way. It wasn't long before the diversion ended and we realised we weren't that far from our destination. Later that evening when Jessica was tucked up in bed and we were having a meal with both sets of parents, we got talking about our journey up. We explained that we had been diverted and were concerned we would get lost. When asked where the diversion was we said we had come through a pretty village called Moreton and we'd passed a lovely old water mill. Everyone was all dressed out in 1940's and 50's clothes and appeared to be going to a party at a farm called Chew Park house. There was silence before Aimee's mother said that wasn't possible. Moreton had been flooded in the early 1950's and was at the bottom of the Chew Valley Lake. I said I had taken some photos on my phone and took it out to show her. Again there was stunned silence and a sharp intake of breath as she looked at them before handing the phone to her mother. "This is Moreton and the water mill is Stratford Mill. The celebration at Chew Park is the Harvest Home supper. It was held every year when the harvest had been brought in and that is your Dad waving." "It's not possible," repeated Aimee's mum. Looking at Becky and me, Aimee's grandma said, "You must have slipped into a time warp. That's the only explanation. Grandad would have been so proud to have been here for his first great grand daughter's christening, that he did the next best thing and sent her a phone message."

24 September

Only eight of us at Brian & Pat's on a wet morning. Notwithstanding it was an enjoyable few hours. Pat having won last month started her story first all about the Para-Olympics. Not having watched I'm amazed that there was a blind football team who played with a ball fitted with a bell. Ann's was a sad tale about a family tragedy involving a car crash. Sheila two girls friendship. Joan going to New Zealand and meeting someone they knew. Joan Read talking voices in the head and angelic beings. John an ex unable to let go and sending malicious phone calls. Brian a war story and Lord Haw Haw. My story won this month. Not really a story just a comment on today's changing times.

That Voice Again

 Have you noticed how much speech has changed over our life time? Listen to any sound recording made during the last war and hear the difference from today's offerings. It used to be clipped and energetic spoken with a vigour that is lacking today. You won't hear that voice again. Now you hear regional accents with almost no voice training at all. To get a job in the industry like TV or radio a regional accent is essential. The weather forecasters are some of the worst offenders where even their use of the English language is maltreated. Clouds described as lumps is one of their many linguistic crimes. Does it matter that we don't try to be the best we can be in all things? I notice that in China the government in particular dress in Western suits and ties they have come a long way from the time of Mao when everybody wore a loose fitting standard garment that looked like the normal wear of a peasant.

I some times think about spending money on clothes but then when I get into town making my way to the shops I look around and see what everybody else is wearing, holed dirty jeans and shoddy looking coats and that was just the women. So I put my wallet back until I get tempted again to spend money. Although I'd rather spend it on toys such as Kindles and tablets – not the pill variety.

 Mind you I did see an old TV recording of a BBC announcer Peter Haigh – do you remember him with his well modulated voice – he was interviewing an American actress and an up coming starlet and he was fawning over both of them in such a treacle voice I felt sick. It was embarrassing. He of course was dropped in the sixties when the new fashion of representing the dumb down masses became the norm. This reminds me of McDonald Hobley I wonder what happened to him? Just had to look him up he was still working in the industry in 1987 when at the age of 70 he died. Another remarkable thing is in 1956 he was tempted to leave the BBC for ITV by a salary 5 times greater that the BBC was paying him – a £100. So that means he was getting £20 a week up to then. How can our intelligent betters who run the country allow the £ to be devalued in such a way. To just print paper money disregarding its value or intrinsic worth is a crime against ordinary people and a guaranteed way to make money for those who have control of the banks.

 How the world has changed I see more and more people are pursuing complaints in the courts against bad Medical practise mostly against GPs. Doctors used to be treated with fawning respect perhaps because they expected it and spoke curtly to patients but no longer although they don't call us mates - well not at the moment. One reason it is changing is due to the help of the Internet we know almost as much as them.

Perhaps despite it all, we do have that, the internet to console us and we can take pleasure in listening to old recordings of how things used to be.

Next month "Quite an idea"

27th August 2012

Brian started off with a widower coming to terms with new fangled things like electric lighting. Ann gave a life time information about a family with dark secrets. Rosemary continued last month's story about the fear of flying. Sally wrote of a spooky passing away in the mountains. Sheila recounted one of the holidays in France. John an adventure story about a naval hero. I told of an intelligent school boy who ended up homeless. Joan Read the man who accepted being best man. Sue all about walking the dogs. Joan E Sam wanting to play with Dan


Pat won again - it's how you tell them Pat.

Next month "That voice again"

He Understood

Its rather hot today, 85+, and the garden has had a lot to put up with. Its the middle of August and the tomatoes are still green, even the plant we left in the greenhouse in a grow bag isn’t happy. Also, the red peppers didn’t bother to set, the runner beans are hopeless...we ’harvested’ three. What a joke. The six tomato plants at the end of the garden have developed potato blight would you believe! Of course they can’t go in the compost so another trip to the tip.

Where are the butterflies? We used to have Peacocks with their wings flat out on the roof of the shed. I creep down the garden to the three Buddleia trees in the late sun and what do I see? Two white cabbage butterflies and a few bees. What's going on.

We managed to pick over four pounds (in old money) of blueberries in three pots. We had covered them in fleece to stop the birds having a feast. They would eat them all in one day. As they have outgrown their pots we intend to plant them in the disastrous tomato bed for next year.

The begonias finally decided to bloom and the hydrangeas are putting on a show. Some of the roses are blooming for the second flush. Its water, water, water.

We are supposed to have one of those new meters, but for some reason part of our road has been done but not ours, so we can water to our hearts delight.

I keep watching for hummingbird moths. No luck. I have spotted them in previous years during a hot spell. Testwood Lakes meadow is a good place to see them, before they cut it down.

Earlier this year, we lost two boxes of blue tits. Apparently, the caterpillars were washed away with the heavy rain so they starved to death. How cruel. Nature doesn’t have a heart.

On the other hand, we have a flock of 40+ house sparrows, a nuthatch, great spotted woodpeckers...one even brought her twins to visit. There's various tits, blackbirds and a robin with two offspring.

We have finally out foxed the squirrels by purchasing a new feeder with bars! They are so entertaining, hanging by their toes and steeling peanuts, lifting lids and chewing at the wire. Now they can only get at the wild mixed seed.

The apple tree isn’t happy either, we will have to take some remedial action next year. We had three peaches and could only eat one. The ‘giant’ sunflowers are only three feet tall. Never mind, the seeds will be welcome.

I will fill up the water bowls now that it has cooled down. Spotted a teeny frog with his googly eye on me , he understood what I was doing, and patiently waited.

This weather seems to attract strange insects. I have been bitten by who knows what. The first bite had me on anti biotics and the second on anti histamines!

Roll on winter.

23 July 2012

A really nice day with the morning spent in Joan's garden sheltered from the sun under several parasols.
I read Sue's story first a retelling of a poor family in the mid west USA. John kicked off next with a faulty kidney saving tourists' lives. Sheila retold how her family were entertained at Eling during the torch ceremony. Rosemary's story was about a young girl about to marry who fell out of her bed. Joan's heroine rebelled against her family taking her for granted. Joan E told how missing a bus stop is scary. I related how going for a walk led to meeting many people. Brian - missing deeds for some land and a murder.
Pat got most votes and her story follows.

GET OFF


That “Go Compare” ad on TV drives me up the wall. I don't know about you, but I can't reach the remote control fast enough! Usually my husband nods off with his hand on it.

The good news is that yesterday, a masked assassin blew him up with a big bazooka! Ha Ha. I'm not the only one then.
The assassin? None other than former tennis star Sue Barker. I do hope she was well compensated. Apparently the ad people do listen. That makes a change. There must be thousands of people like me, who enjoyed the action, and, whats more important actually paid attention to the insurance comparison company message. Maybe they are on to something, in a kind of back handed advertising campaign.

I always believed it was easier to get a message across with humour.

Following that thought, they could string up the bankers in a High Noon type of way, when they go on about their safe banks.

Have you watched our Parliament in action? First off, the House is half empty. They can't all be at very important meetings can they? The only time it seems to be full is Prime Minister's question time or when there is an important vote.

Now its the Olympics. Apart from the security fiasco, the ticket fiasco and the strikes, it will be alright on the night, as they say.

Hooray for Bradley Wiggins. Now, get off your bike and save the Olympics!

Next month 27th August at John's "He understood"

25 th June 2012

Smaller group than usuual with one guest Rosemary's sister who came to see what we got up to. Sheila started off with a graphic account of her gall bladder operation. Ann described the various reaction to a group of people who were suddenly brought together when the lift got stuck. I wrote about a plane in trouble while flying in Alaska. Joan gave us a run down on our tradional summer weather. Joan Read all about abuse and in this case the fatal revenge of a desparate wife. Sue told us about the trip she just made to an Island bird sanctuary and the gypsies with their horses.

Next month at Joan & Jack's, "get off"

Two winning stories John and Rosemary's.


Rosemary's story
WERE FEW: I guess nobody relishes being robbed, unless of course they are pleased to be rid of the thing that's been stolen! THEN they would surely heave a contented sigh of relief to see the back of it!
But when our home was burgled some years ago we were absolutely devastated to find that precious totally irreplaceable heirlooms such as watches and jewellery which had been handed down the generations, together with my antique engagement ring, eternity ring and other jewellery had all been taken. That day I'd come home from work, walked in the jemmied front door, and quickly realized what had happened. Then I'd heard bumps upstairs and feared that the burglar was still in the house. It was my instinct to run out of the house, but the police told me to stay on the phone until they arrived. My instinct was STILL to run, because the phone was situated in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, and this would be the burglar's only escape route if he WAS upstairs!
A few minutes later the police came, searched the house including the loft, but no burglar was found. Some weeks later a police woman brought the one and only item recovered from the robbery. It had been discovered in a pawn shop, and led to the burglar being identified, charged and convicted. The unrecovered items were compensated under insurance, but of course no amount of money could replace their sentimental family value.
As I said I guess nobody relishes being robbed - yet when I was about 6 years old I WAS absolutely overjoyed when someone robbed me whilst on holiday with my parents at the seaside. For no longer would I have to wear that awful itchy hand-knitted woollen swimming costume. Even though there were few people on the beach that day, my costume had been stolen from the rocks behind my Dad's deckchair where it was laid out to dry. Oh the joy to be rid of that hated swimsuit which when it got wet in the paddling pool or sea became heavier and heavier until eventually the bottom of it sagged and stretched down to cover my knees, and the top ended well below my waistline!
That for me was a very fortuitous robbery indeed, for when we got home my Mum drew a rough pattern, bought a length of plain green material and several cards of fine shirring elastic, and on her old hand-operated sewing machine made me a waffle-like swimming costume which was the height of fashion back then in the mid 1940s. I guess not many people relish being robbed, but I'll NEVER forget how thankful I was to have that horrible, itchy, woollen swimming costume stolen all those years ago!


John's story

WERE FEW
JIMMY CAME FROM A LONG LINE OF FISHERMEN, WHO SPENT THEIR LIVES FIGHTING THE ELEMENTS IN THE COLD UNFORGIVING SEAS AROUND THE NORTH ATLANTIC. THEIRS WASN'T A GLAMOROUS LIFE BACK IN THE FIFTIES. IT WAS ALL ABOUT BRINGING HOME THE COD. HE WAS NOT THE BRIGHTEST AT SCHOOL, BUT HE KNEW THAT THE LIFE OF A FISHERMAN BECKONED AND HE DIDN'T REALLY NEED TO LEARN MUCH WHILST HE WAS THERE.
HIS DAD GOT HIM HIS FIRST BOAT, "THE SPIRIT OF THE SEAS", WHEN HE LEFT SCHOOL, AND WHILST IT WAS SUMMER TIME, HE SOON BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE HARDSHIP OF LIFE ABOARD. IT WAS TOUGH FOR A BOY OF 15 TO HAUL HIMSELF OUT OF BED AT 30'CLOCK IN THE MORNING, FEELING, AND BEING SEASICK , BUT OF COURSE THAT WAS THE LIFE STRETCHING OUT BEFORE HIM. SURE, IT WAS GRIM, BUT THE COMRADESHIP MORE THAN MADE UP FOR THE HARDSHIPS HE WAS TO SUFFER IN THE FUTURE. COMING HOME AFTER A WEEK AT SEA FELT GREAT FOR JIMMY. HE TOOK PART IN THE UNLOADING, AND SECRETLY, A SENSE OF PRIDE ENVELOPED HIM, KNOWING THAT THEY WERE ALL HELPING TO PUT THE FISH ON THE TABLES OF ENGLAND. BUT THE BIG BONUS FOR HIM WAS WHEN THE CAPTAIN CALLED THEM ALL INTO THE BRIDGEHOUSE, AFTER THE FISH WAS AUCTIONED, AND PAID THEM ALL THEIR SHARE OF THE CATCH. JIMMY COULDN'T BELIEVE, THAT HE WAS HOLDING £200 POUNDS IN HIS HANDS. YES, THIS WAS HIS FIRST BIG PAY DAY. THE TRIP HAD BROUGHT IN A BIG CATCH AND AS A VERY JUNIOR DECKHAND, JIMMY GOT HIS PROPORTIONATE SHARE.
WELL, HE COULDN'T WAIT TO GET HOME TO SEE HIS MUM, AND SURE ENOUGH SHE WAS WAITING, NOT EXACTLY WITH OUTSTRETCHED HANDS, BUT CERTAINLY WITH AN EXPECTATION OF A SHARE OF HIS WAGES. THE BOY SETTLED ON GIVING HIS MOTHER HALF OF HIS EARNINGS, AND THEY BOTH APPEARED HAPPY WITH THAT ARRANGEMENT. HE WAS NOT DUE TO SAIL AGAIN ON THE "SPIRIT" FOR A FEW DAYS SO HE SPENT ALL HIS MONEY ON GOING TO THE CINEMA AND BUYING NEW CLOTHES. MIND YOU, MOTHER MADE HIM SAVE SOME OF HIS CASH, AND THE POST OFFICE BOOK APPEARED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MANY YEARS.
LIFE COULDN'T BE BETTER JIMMY THOUGHT, AND AFTER A COUPLE OF YEARS, HE WAS CONSIDERED TO BE A GOOD CAPABLE DECKHAND. HE WAS RELIABLE, HARD WORKING AND WAS THOUGHT TO BE ONE OF THE BEST. THERE WERE FEW BETTER THE SKIPPER TOLD HIM. SO WHEN THE CHANCE OF BECOMING A LEADING DECKHAND CAME UP, HE GRABBED IT WITH BOTH HANDS. THE RESPONSIBILITY INCREASED OF COURSE, BUT WITH THAT CAME A MUCH BIGGER PAY DAY AFTER EACH TRIP, AND JIMMY, BEING QUITE AN ASTUTE LAD, STARTED LOOKING TO THE FUTURE, AND HOPED THAT ONE DAY, HE COULD ASPIRE TO SKIPPERING HIS OWN BOAT.
THE COD WAR STARTED TO AFFECT THEM, BUT THEIR SKIPPER WAS A VERY EXPERIENCED MAN WHO MANAGED TO AVOID CONFRONTATION AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, ANS BY AND LARGE THEY CAME HOME TO HULL WITH PRETTY GOOD CATCHES MOST OF THE TIME.
A COUPLE OF YEARS LATER JIMMY BEING A SENSIBLE CAREFUL LAD, HAD SAVED A SIZABLE AMOUNT OF CASH. HE WASN'T THE SORT OF FISHERMAN WHO SPENT ALL HIS TIME IN THE PUBS. HE TOOK THE PLUNGE AND INVESTED HIS SAVINGS IN A GOOD LITTLE BOAT THAT A FRIEND OF HIS WAS SELLING, DUE TO RETIREMENT, AND WHILST IT LANDED JIMMY WITH A HUGE DEBT, HE CONFIDENTLY WORKED HARD AND MANAGED. HIS BOAT WAS CALLED "THE SUNRISE”, AND WITH A GOOD CREW HE BECAME ONE OF THE TOP SKIPPERS IN HULL. IT WAS FUNNY REALLY BUT HE COULDN'T STAND FISH AND NEVER ATE THE STUFF.

28th May 2012

Nicest day of the year so far very hot and we sat out in the garden until the sun got too strong and we had to move to the shady veranda. Brian started as he won it last time wrote a mysterious unidentified footprints that led a merry chase. Sheila's involved the Chelsea Flower show. Pat poor old Tom with a sore head. Sue youngest daughter. Joan recounted our nature watch. My story where I say I'm no hypochondriac. John dived into the underworld filled with gangsters. Ann about the ending of the world for some Romans. Sally a wife becomes aware of infidelity and plans revenge.

Next month "were few"
Rosemary won with

COULD NOT IDENTIFY

Mary's heart sank as her husband John said "That was Mum on the phone. She's had the 'flu but is still feeling very weak and shaky. I'm sorry love, but I think we really ought to go and spend Christmas with her as she's asked, and help her all we can to get properly well." Mary knew there was no point in arguing. After all it DID make sense to go as John said, but she knew that whatever help SHE tried to give would either be refused point blank or soundly criticised by her dear mother-in-law as not good enough!
Right from the moment 20-odd years ago when John had taken her home to meet his parents, his mother had made it crystal clear that she didn't like or approve of Mary one little bit. John had tried to reassure Mary that his mother had never approved of ANY of his girlfriends, but that beloved HER and was determined to marry her whatever his mother thought or said.
Over the years his mother's animosity, outspoken criticism and downright nastiness had continued, but for John's sake Mary had bitten her tongue and put up with it, despite the deep hurt it caused her. It would have been easy to shrug it off as the typical mother-in-law joke so often used by stand-up comics to raise a laugh. But it was no laughing matter to live with the painful situation year after year.
Even though John's work had taken them to live in another part of the country, his mother had continually demanded John's time and frequent visits for the flimsiest of reasons, and now she was obviously determined to ruin the plans they'd made to spend Christmas with friends. Although Mary was dreading it, she agreed that it was right for them to go and do whatever they could to help John's mother recover from the 'flu. But when they arrived they were surprised to find the patient perfectly fit and well, full of beans, and as cantankerous towards Mary as ever!
On Christmas day it self Mary expected to be forced to eat Christmas pudding which John's mother knew she disliked, yet even so delighted in piling it onto Mary's dish and watching her struggle to eat it. BUT NO! To her amazement John's mother said "I know you don't like Christmas pudding dear, so I've made you a special chocolate mousse. And I've laced it with brandy, because you won't be having the brandy sauce."
Mary thoroughly enjoyed the dark chocolate mousse, VERY generously laced with brandy, and something else which she could not identify. But just a few days later when the pathologist was conducting Mary's autopsy, HE found that he COULD and DID identify that extra ingredient in the mousse as the lethal poison which had killed Mary!