Re. TWITTERING ECO-CHICK cont. from 28/03/09
Blogsbody knows better than to ignore the small print.
Ever more so when Cressroads’ Mother Eco-Chick drops her typeface to squeeze a final few lines into her puzzling 20-page menu for a ‘lovely evening full of watercress, local trout and hope that her dearest guests have a really super time’.
Meet again, Amanda-the-Networker.
You twittering Eco chick,
Nesting in a car blanket on our Tichborne poet’s village acres. Putting your hoppy Bull & Bell self in all manner of rural danger. But was it all to have folk read the sell-line for your alternative cover: ‘Real earthy. Get down and dirty with our eco earthy section’?
Bringing to life the spring launch of your 20-page companion publication to Greater Cressroads’ Power Business Network that Blogsbody was given to read leaned over the Primmer Bar of the Tichborne Arms, while Nurse Groper’s healing hands worked their magic on his lower back pain.
To be sure, to be sure,
Or, mixed with the ecclesiastical, Lady Day’ s religious significance is observed with a token shake of the bristles of a holy water brush by whoever the Roman Catholic Canon of St Peter’s, Winchester, delegates to blessing the Tichborne Dole.
Lady Day in Cressroads – more especially, Tichborne – remains a traditional day on which, if given an Irish spin of the harvest coin, landowners settle their annual debts.
No, Bronnie,
Blogsbody did not forget your birthday. But rather he was reminded of your coming of an age tomorrow most in line with his three-score-year, end-of-terrace, city-built Cressroads Lower House of Windsor, where sparrows nest in the roof, water overflows and visiting cats crap all over Gary-the-Garden’s vegetable patch.
How many more years long may it all survive?
Good evening Michael,
… as I type these words, there is a sense of prophetic haplessness in moving forward. I guess my answers are indeed laid squarely upon the table. Over the past 45 years opportunity has always been at your feet to reunite the desire or want to meet and be reunited with your son.
However, only having met the once, there has been no real intent on your part to spirit things forward. Maybe, that is the only answer, as you have always continued on a personal journey and perhaps that path is one for you and you alone …
Take your pick. Rape. Shy another pub to call your local. Or putting your life in danger by admission to hospital in Greater Cressroads.
Today’s Land of the Tichbornes is ruled over from their fading, all but 1,000-year-old family seat in their namesake of a hamlet known for its popular real-ale Arms close by Alresford-on-Arle.
Where the town crop is watercress.
Good early morning, Bronnie!
Received more of your texts and, in the event your short-term memory box doesn’t recall, they read:
C JUSTICE FOR KATE … REMEMBER TELLING ALAN HE WAS TOO GOOD FOR ME … WUNDER WHAT U TOLD DARON … U DIDNT TNK TO SPEAK TO KEITH WHO TOLD OF HIS WORK KEEPING WATCH 4 JUMPERS OFF BEACHY HEAD … ONE SICKO COP SHOUTED 2 A GIRL 2 JUMP … GENIUS U R IRV, THERE’S NEVER BEEN ANY DOUBT … YOU ACHIEVED ALL OF THIS 4 URSELF IN SUCH A SHORT TIME. SAYS IT ALL
Wannabe mine hosts.
Away in their pipedreams, even when inns are closing their cellar doors and draining their beer engines at the rate of one a day - and, sadly, Cressroads is in step with the nation as a whole.
Unbelievably, or perhaps not, its Globe-on-the-Soke shuts down. After enjoying such success in the hands-on days of Landlady Lyn O’Callaghan. Not so ever again.
Morning, Freddie,
Before the sun is over the yardarm, giving Blogsbody cause not to be back to you as promised before noon this St Patrick’s Day, the seven-strong cast for your proposed piece shapes up to include Kay, a middle-aged art student, as official photographer to Blogsbody’s Continuing Story of Cressroads featured on the county Chronic’s website as well as his own.
Dogsbloggy to Blogsbody is retired stockman Henry Primmer, a rural cricket as well as darts legend, whose countless games and matches over the past half-century give him the key to pubs providing a source for mining many a story lead.
Think about it. And Blogsbody is. After swearing off sex for Lent. And given to reckoning on this 3rd Sunday in the purple-vested ecclesiastical season there are but only 27 more nights and days left to go, before the egged Easter Feast of the Resurrection is celebrated in Cressroads or wherever.
Not, however, something Blogsbody chooses to jar about over his pint of Palmer’s brewed-in-Dorset, Copper real ale. Stood at the Primmer Bar of the Tichborne Arms, and making the acquaintance of a visiting churchwarden with flowing white locks and a brace of black hounddogs straining on their matching green restraints to want back outdoors.
