Safe journeys, dere Chatelaine, and don’t go leading any Bees along paths of righteousness. That would be most disappointing, for a Bee and the Cellar both.
Back at the GusHaus after an interlude of being looked after most handsome-like, wondering about pouring milk over various surfaces here: it seems to have magical properties… Perhaps luckily, I have no milk to hand tonight. No, that’s not a ‘pore Gus’ whine: I don’t generally take the stuff in drinkable format. Just as well, as it might Cause Housework. How farsighted of me to have not taken to it in tea all those years ago
Eagerly awaiting bulletins re effects of tilted 'nats, hard stares or, a la limite, the Educating Stick and hoping a good time will generally be had
G xxx
I have to see a Bride tomorrow about the magic I have worked on her dress & am advising her talented & creative sister about an Fascinator
Actually, all of the girls in this Fambly, & there are many, are creative . Sister makes wonderful brooches & pins.Another sister Blings-up Vertiginous Shoesies. Cousin has made the bouquet from paper woses (Pace Marie Osmond), wired clusters of pearls & old diamantee brooches from the Flea Market & it looks stunning .
Howsumevva
Carinthia is required to make the frock fit, & soothe the Fascinator-Frayed Nerves
Gus, I have to say that I have felt better about you this week, knowing that you were in the tender care of the Fishly-Dunnocks. They make everyone feel better.
I hope that home feels abit more like home soonish
Buggrit indeed. Mind you, given yer location, the bar for ‘hottest and sunniest for years’ might be quite low…
Is it work you are away for? A holiday to a place with worse weather is truly galling; if it’s work, not quite so bad. Aye, but still quite bad, I do see.
Bah and pah.
Ferget all the ‘the sun shines on’ crap: ‘Happy the bride that Carinthia stitches firmly into her dress’ is how that one was meant to go, but they let amateurs loose with the proofs. I’m sure the bouquet looks stunning but can’t help feeling a bit sad that it isn’t real flowers. Not that it has anything to do with me or any other interfering old bat. If it is what the bride wants, and more importantly if you approve of the lookovvit, then hurrah! for the bouquet. Mine is upstairs somewhere, dried. Beautiful roses of a particular red to go with his tie and bits of my dress. But basically now a bunch of dead flowers which if I don’t chuck out the clearance people will, so why not go for something a bit more durable and original, eh?
I can speak only as a Gus rather than as an Everyone, but indeed they do. Balm in Gilead and a haven of insane sanity and conviviality and goodness and and and. And funny. Oh, and a lot of (textile, mainly )threads of various kinds were involved and your name invoked not infrequently, and not always in a threadly context either. But the Fish and I had a sad and protracted hunt for a particular Snark, wot is not available, not nohow, not for love or any amount of money.
The quest for the sausage cage… People are going to write poems about that, you know. Unless strong measures are taken agin them.
Now, dear Chatelaine, mind yourself well, and give this wee hug to our Bee. Oh, and one for yerself.
Gxxxx
The house, sans cat, is middling, if that. I keep listening for her to come in.
The Bride is happy, & will be even happier once I have devised summat to anchor the frock to the Underpinnings
The Fascinator is rather more fascinating than it was last week . I recommended the purchase ovvan large ‘silk’ flower to be dismanted & remantled on the Fascinator to provide a ‘pop’ of colour . The flower was £1-25 from Wilko, as opposed to smaller more fussy things in the wrong colour at a fiver each from the Craft Shop .
I am going to have an Bacon Sandwich anna sit down
Trouble at t’GusHaus: can someone have cursed my teabags? Tea tastes Very Odd this morning, which is disappointing because until beer o’clock a Gus runs best on tea.
However, the self-same Gus has just successfully downloaded, courtesy of a certain Dunnock, something she very much wants to read, so the Mutant Teabag Problem has diminished greatly in importance.
Well, I certainly returned to the GusHaus in timely fashion. Just had a phonecall from Ditzy Neighbour, who carefully removed her house key from her keyring (why?) and went oot wi’oot it. She will be about 12 minutes, she says. So she obviously has the bike padlock key about her person somewhere. Heigh ho. She has many sterling quantities. Key-herding is not among them.
Then I humbly beg leave to suggest that you Stop It At Once. It makes casual bystanders such as a Gus doubt your sanity. And given that the dearrr wumman found herself keyless once* while I was away and had to climb over a neighbouring fence to get in the back (she is 70, btw) it does tend to encourage Dangerous Behaviour. The neighbour of the fence (giant Ulsterman of few words, most of them strangely pronounced) who could have lifted her over (she is ‘small, portable’, as opposed to ‘portly, short’ which was a Simpsons’ cut way back when) without breaking sweat normally, has shattered his elbow and was thus out of that particular game. Dearie me. Never a dull moment.
*to be fair, ‘once’ was pretty good going for her…
Hot buttered crusts available. It looks and sounds like bread, but I must warn you this is an Untested Loaf. Ended up shooting all the remaining rye flour into the bowl at the beginning and CBA to adjust, so it is more rye-skeweder than the usual 1:4 arrangement. And as a result possibly under-hydrated (have just realised how/why I recently made an almost liquid dough - no rye flour, and rye is a thirsty brute) since I erred on the side of caution when sloshing the water in.
Anyway, for the brave, there it is, sitting on the rack looking tanned and crunchy as to the outer surface.
