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Good morrow good people,tis I again having been & gone & come back again,the 'orse is fed,the cart is cleaned & the ice house is made.
Strange things happen in these woods at night,some of the sheriff's treasure seems to have vanished into the air But tis of no concern for in the now spare space we can keep the casks of ale cool
Some days it's hardly worth chewing through the restraints!
One bit of old folklore wisdom says to plant tomatoes when the soil is warm enough to sit on with bare buttocks. In surburban areas, use the back of your wrist. Jackie French
Member of the Eastern Branch of the Darn Under Nutter's Club
I too must hasten to my bed as my knee giveth me much gip. I applied several leaches a few hours past in order to ease the swelling...but they shrivelled and died.
Perchance I must seek aid from a physic on the morrow.
Farewell and goodnight.
Good lady, try a comfrey poltice on thy poorly knee. Verily we of the merry band usually retain the comfrey for the nurishment of our crops, but its properties as "knit all" would perchance benefit thy swollen parts.....
If the river hasn't reached the top of your step, DON'T PANIC!
Yey verily thou canst bringeth thine own straw/tankard/goblet tis Red Stocking Colonial Ale on the right & Brains Indian Pale Ale (bet you always wondered what IPA stood for) on the left.
Drink heartily for the supply is good
He who smiles in the face of adversity,has already decided who to blame
Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity
Aah Brains IPA. Memories!!! For while I was still being dandled at my Nurse's knee, I can recall the heady aroma of Brain's brewery although the stench may also have been from my Nurse's breath for she were known to imbibe freely of this pure ale. I have been led to believe that IPA stood for I'm P*ssed again but you must be correct, Much for you have done much research into such matters
Last edited by veggiechicken; 23-05-2012, 02:35 PM.
Reason: typo again
Afternoon, merrie men and ladies all, and a bit of a scorcher. Verily my magic slate doth inform me that it is as hot here as the Holy City of Jerusalem, which I well remember from the years on crusade with his Highness the King. Bless the shade of good English (and Welsh of course) trees, and bless Much for his thoughtful construction of the ice house, that we may have chilled drinks to cool us from our hard labours (of which I have done none this day )
And for thine repast this eve (assuming any of you ever come in from the sun, and tending the lottie!) I attempted to capture some venison:
I am not the bestest shot in the world!
so instead I baked for the merry men a "Queen of Pudding" using thrify old bread (thanks to Much and Maid Marion's chicken's eggs). Many thanks to thee both.
I'd rather be in the Falconer's pool than hunting with you, Archer. That is a horrible picture of the deer, truly stomach turning. I'll just have a big dollop of Pudding please!
Merrie evening goodly folk, I trust I find you well? Mine under-parts are tender after today's extended hunting session. In fact, I appear to be a mite saddle-sore. Tis the Birthday of mine faithful steed this day, so celebrations were had at the stable, and we are both suffering now, I fear.
All the best - Glutton 4 Punishment Freelance shrub butcher and weed removal operative.
Thank you Falconer for your consideration. I was going to go away for a few pages so that I didn't have to see the photos. I am somewhat squeamish about some things
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