Saturday, October 4, 2008

The Horticultural Society

My goodness you gave me quite a start there! I must have dozed off in my chair or sommit. How long you been there then? It’s not like me to doze off like that, mind, I ain’t surprised Lord knows I is exhausted sure enough. We have been a having of a bit of a time what with the Village Horticultural show coming up. See, it’s like this. We has our village horticultural show, well, in truth we has two shows, the big ‘un in the start of summer and the autumn one in October. Summer one is me favourite, what with the sweet peas and the kid’s “gardens on a plate” and the butterfly collection, very popular that one with the kids. They gives a prize to the nipper who has the biggest collection of Cabbage Whites pinned on a board all pretty like. Our Alfred’s boy, William, he won 50p last year and a rosette for best in show for his display. He had 47 of them, clever little sod.

The autumn show, now that one is more to do with jams and jellies and who makes the best chutney and what not and pompom Dahlias in showy colours. Now those I must say are a particular delight of mine. Mr Bucket, him who used to be the postmaster until he falls of his bike one winter on the ice and couldn't carry his bag no more, well he has the cottage next door but one to here. He is a right strange oddity he is, came from Birmingham after the war, never grows a vegetable or no fruit neither, not a single strawberry or cabbage his whole plot, and its a big ‘en mind, is taken over with Dahlias and chrysanthemums. ‘Tis a picture at this time of year I can tell you. Even without my glasses it’s a carnival to see all ‘em flowers, all big and blousy like, bobbing their heads in row after row like over painted barmaids having a chin wag.

Anyways see we has a committee for our Horticultural Society and Mr Bucket and his ”Friend” Peter them has always done the setting up of tables and arranging exhibits and stuff like that, very good with pickles is Peter and his Victoria sandwich is the lightest you’n ever tasted. Then there’s me of course, and old Florence Coales, now she has always been in charge of the committee like her Mum before her and her gran before that. Then there’s a couple of other old biddies who comes to make up numbers like. Well bugger me if this year Mrs ever so “Hoighty Toighty” Framley, hasn’t pushed in and I reckon she has an mind to run the whole thing and her not been here more than five minutes neither. Very full of herself she is, gets this Country Magazine for townees on subscription from the Post office every month and drives some posh silver car built like a tank, the car not her, she be thin as a reed and ‘bout as dried up as last years old apples that one. Anyways she aint ‘alf caused some feathers to fly. She doesn’t want this and she don’t want that and she reckons we is all as thick as dumplings, though she don’t say as such. She be ever so snide and polite that one and smiles to yer face “oh Mrs Rhubarb this and Mrs Rhubarb that” all nice like but I knows what she says behind me back stupid cow.

Lord look at the hour, I has to go and see old Florence ‘about the show. Mind, if you see that Mrs Framley don’t you utter a word to her ‘bout what I say’s and don’t let on you’s been a nattering with me you hear ?

1 comment:

Mrs ElderBerry said...

Village shows are so much fun, my chutneys & jams usually do very well.