Coping with the Snow
Twilight Lawns plc.
To those kind persons who have written to us and called us on the telephone during the last few days of inclement weather. Thank you so much for the offers of food parcels and help during these awful conditions with which we have had to endure.
The Residents and Staff of Twilight Lawns are made of sterner stuff than many may think. This is nothing new to us. Many of our girls will be able to tell harrowing stories concerning the snowstorms, blizzards and ghastly freezing conditions that they had gone through in the winter of 1947. Even we who were at Twilight Lawns during that awful season can remember incidents, some amusing, and some downright dangerous, that we had experienced.
We remember with pride the weekend when, in the December of 1947, Hermione and Louise, (with the nominal help of some of the Little Sisters of Selective Charity) took the Brownies Pack from Saint Theresa-the-Confused, Carshalton, on a three day hike and camping experience. They returned, having been lost in storms and snowdrifts, after some considerable time. But thanks to Hermione’s guiding hand and some good luck, most returned, having lost only a couple of the Brownies, and a silly little Novice; who apparently wasn’t cut out for Holy Orders anyway. We heard that subsequently, one or two of the Brownies lost some fingers and toes through frostbite; but that was to be expected.
In relation to this year’s snow troubles, we have learned to become quite self-sufficient, and our Dear Maude has organised foraging parties and they are, as I write this, digging up root vegetables in three counties. Cook and her helper, Sharon, have unearthed loads of tinned Corned Beef and Onions which were laid down at the conclusion of The Great War. Apparently Ordnance Stores under General Haig had overstocked, supposing that the War would stretch into the early Twenties.
So we won’t starve, and although the local pharmacy hasn’t been able to deliver enough of our medications as we would like, there are ample amounts of Senna Pod to make the tea for which Nurse Smythe is famous, and for those residents who start to become more silly and needy than usual, we ladle a good dose of cooking sherry or Spanish brandy down their throats and pack them off to bed and lock them in their rooms till they quieten down or it thaws… whichever comes first.
In fact, we have put expertise and shovels and spades to good use; so much so that our Local County Council have gratefully received the help of a small contingent of the more Burly Girls from the Queen Alexandra Annexe; who have done wonders gritting and salting the highways and byways of our area.
Our dear matron, Mrs Plantagenet-Featheringstonehaugh, was called away to the Villa in Plantagenet sur la Plage, Vallauris, France at the outset of the inclement weather, but has telephones us once or twice with words of encouragement. She should, weather permitting, be rejoining us in the Spring.
Beryl Pugh (Secretary)
A message from Matron
It seems to be a very smart, or fashionable, nowadays, instead of a card, to send all sorts of details of the comings and goings of one’s family.
One has received several of these from friends and relations and mere acquaintances and one has been regaled with details of Births, Deaths and Marriages of a plethora of people one has neither heard of, nor likely to want to.
One feels that if the names one is swamped with are not constantly in the Court Circular, then one would prefer not to have to indulge.
However, one feels that one must move with the times, and in consequence, as I am recuperating in my little Villa in Plantagenet sur la Plage, Vallauris, France, Nurse Smythe has been designated gatherer of information relating to the happenings of our Little Family here at Twilight Lawns plc.
H Plantagenet-Featheringstonehaugh (Matron)
Ghastly Prendy & the Gazebo
Report by Maude
A lovely picture of the Gazebo taken earlier this week.
Old Mrs Prendergast (Ghastly Prendy, as she is known by the other residents) went out there to bring in one of Raj’s Black Orpington Chickens, and didn’t return. It’s possible the old dear is still out there, but it’s too cold for man or beast, so she’ll have to stay out there until it thaws or she comes in of her own accord.
Sometimes there’s a little group of the other residents who will stand for hours on end, looking out of the long windows in the Queen Alexandra Day Room and Recreation Area, watching to see if there is any movement out there.
Raj, the Gardener’s Lad, is taking bets on whether she’ll return. The bets are heavily in favour of her getting out by the New Year. She’s a feisty old bird.
Raj and the Chickens
Report by Samir
(Charlotte, our old reiable Charabanc disappeared for a while and it was thought that she had been stolen)
Im gonna egsplain what happined. My cus raj, he tooked his chickens for a ride in da charabang cos dey was lookin a bit pail an he fought dey wood like a change of seenery so he tooked dem to see da studants at da house of commies an den traflalgar square but de chickens was shouting and being silly an dey got arrested but raj new dis bloke what was a judge an he letted them of wiv a warnin and dat dey have to stay in house arrest like dat lady in birmingham or burmra or whatever it is innit.
Cissie and the Snow Plough
Report by the Three Gertrudes
Cissie heard that Raj and the Chickens were being “bottled” by the Police in Parliament Square, during the Student Riots. She commandeered a passing snow plough and drove to rescue the lad and his Black Orpingtons. By this time, Raj had escaped and left the chickens to their own devices. Cissie arrived just in time to see a group of pigeons giving the Black Orpingtons a hard time. Basically they were coming on to them and being very suggestive,
But Cissie did a deal with a very accommodating Policeman and, as Samir pointed out, the chickens are back at Twilight Lawns, but are under house arrest.
Raj, however, hasn’t turned up yet.
More by this Author
A fairly lighthearted (though basically bitter) retelling of the history of having a room converted into a bathroom. With no offence meant to men on horses, the builders were a crowd of evil cowboys.
Attempt to gently take the piss out of the rabid Little Englanders who think that the United Kingdom is so much better than any amount of "Dreadful Foereigners". Be Loyal; be Patriotic... but Grow Up
A somewhat less than learned attempt to explain Restless Legs Syndrome and possible ways of diminishing its effects. The writer is a sufferer, yet can describe the condition with some little humour.