Muffins, Museums and Marijuana
To: Sarah-Jane Chlamydia Rossington-Smythe.
Subject: Letting the Matter Drop.
I’m afraid I’m reminded of the late Ms Ovid who did have a rather unfortunate propensity to Hokey Cokey with all the actions. I still insist the words are “Arms stretch, Ra Ra Ra!” but she would not be told. As I recall, it was an exceedingly unfortunate Empire night all round and the Coronation Chicken did not help!
After being deposited in Holland I was put up in a Tepee with a goat for the first week, accommodation being short due to a festival taking place in the area. Had I been of better spirits I might have joined the barbeque the young men were having in the garden, particularly the spit-roast they mentioned.
I did however make a large number of pecan muffins for the party using some of the cinnamon powder I had found in the kitchen. After a cup of tea and a mini-muffin I had procured for myself I retired with a little dizziness and when I awoke it was dark.
Plainly the party had danced itself to exhaustion as many people littered the garden. I managed to wake one half-way up the stairs but could make little sense of what he said (something about “seeing through time”). In the end I made everyone as comfortable as possible and headed to their office to email you.
I later awoke face down on the keyboard – following the strangest dream that I’d eaten a mouse mat – and suffering from both a headache and a rubbery taste in my mouth. I can only assume that I was more tired and dehydrated than I’d thought.
Everyone was supportive of me in my state of confusion though – the number of hugs I received from the waking party goers did hint that the muffins had been a great success. Indeed the proprietor insisted I have the guest bedroom from then on.
It was in fact after this that I became something of a fixture in the kitchen and rather a celebrity in the area – although I’m not sure where the nickname came from.
Yours,
“Madam Scooby”.