Food for thought

Oh dear! One knew it was a big mistake allowing cook to roam in the library. Seems the mad old bat has found a tome on mediaeval Christmas catering. A nice plump, juicy goose is off the menu at Fortescue Towers this year as the crazed woman has decided on something a shade more adventurous. Even as one writes the sound of gunfire reverberates around the study as she stalks the estate for anything that walks, squawks, crawls, has wings, eyes or vaguely looks edible. Half an hour ago there were several explosions from the kitchen garden as she shot the veg. Wouldn't have thought the sprouts needed both barrels, they only become dangerous after cook gets her hands on them. At least, one thinks it was cook, maybe the mem' is shooting the natives again. Damn! They'll be more revolting than ever if she is.

Even the peacocks in the formal garden have flown south for the holiday season although there are unsubstantiated claims that they are hiding in the cellar at the 'Jolly Weasel' having not made it that far. Most of the estate staff are hiding in the bar.

A tentative look over the menu reveals we are apparently having swan with a jus of finely ground squirrel and stuffed with magpies tongues. One hopes that it being carried flaming around the great hall as the illustration shows has escaped cooks notice as we cannot afford any more repairs after the accident in the east wing. However, the fire brigade have been notified just in case. One also hopes that none of her shots go astray, what with her being a little shaky after a shade too much of the cooking sherry. If Luigi gets hit again heaven only knows what he will do, the topiary is still causing consternation in some quarters.

Ah well, one will just have to send Blenkinsop to the village for the usual seasonal order of a gross of 'Old FoulBellyes Patent Stomach Elixir' and hope not too many of the guests are hospitalised this year.

Toodle pip and 'Merry Christmas' to one and all!