Page 41 - The Sandbag Times Issue No:53

THE CHRONICLES OF LITTLE HOPE

green smog. Sometimes, he really is a difficult fellow to
fathom, but then aren’t most men? “Well he’s under forty and jolly fit,” I mused, swirling
with a spoon whatever it was that Cook had produced in
Anyway, back to this morning. I rose rather quickly and an attempt to identify it, “I’ve seen him pull a tallboy
stuck my head out of the bedroom window(conscious across the kitchen before now.”
that I was still wearing my hairnet and ‘Wendy’ hair
grips) at once, in order to ascertain what the devil was “Single handed?” June looked a tad startled.
happening, and lo and behold there was young John
Thomas, Hilda Ffinch's terribly thin driver - the one with “Oh yes.”
the slight scoliosis - listing to port on the terrace and
shouting up to me that crank as he might he just could- “Crumbs...”
n't get the old girl started. I raised an eyebrow and gave
him a quizzical look, wondering what the devil had been “Indeed.” Do you know what this is?” I poked my spoon
going on in Colonel Ffinch's absence. Turned out he into my bowl and frowned.
meant that Ms Ffinch's Rolls Royce absolutely wouldn't
spark at all and she had a wedding in Sussex to get to “Consomme?”
by noon and could she possibly beg to borrow Basil's
big Rover? I replied that both Basil and the Rover were “Maybe...chicken or beef?”
absent on account of the former being called up to
London on Monday evening, but that I was fairly certain “I thought salmon.” June leaned forward and sniffed at
that the Vicar would be more than happy to get his Riley her serving suspiciously.
Nine Gamecock out for Ms Ffinch if approached nicely.
“Did we ought to send it to the scout camp in Bell End
As John Thomas loped off towards the gates intent on Woods and settle for a stiff gin, instead?” I asked.
harassing the vicar next, I called out "Who's wedding is
it, anyway?" “Yes, I think we ought.”
"Duke of Norfolk's sister," he shouted back, startling a
brute of a cock pheasant on the lawn, "Groom's only got “Righto.”
one eye, Missis!"
Gin, and a Craven A for me, gin and a pipe full of inter-
“Is that relevant?” esting shag with a hint of the orient for June.
More gin.
“It might be, if he has to take a pot-shot at jerry any
time soon!” One for the road.

“Hmm...” Afternoon nap which went on for quite some time.

Lunch with Basil's sister, June, visiting from London. Wrote a thoroughly bogus letter to Hilda Ffinch at the
She's worried that if war comes Uncle Claude’s butler Little Hope Herald asking for a recipe for whale meat
will have to go. A confirmed spinster at 30, I had no idea soufflé.
that she was even acquainted with Dick. One lives and Dinner (indeterminable). Gin. Craven A. A quick mince
learns. round the terrace. Bed...

You can follow the further adventures of Mrs Fox, Hilda Ffinch and the Villagers of Little Hope at
www.mrsfoxgoestowar.co.uk and on Twitter at https://twitter.com/mrslaviniafox

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