📜 Virgil Twobyfour’s Weekly Almanac

For the Week Commencing Monday, 21st April 2025 (also known as the Epiphany of the Holy Knuckles)

📅 This Week’s Country Wisdom & Events
Tuesday: Beware the call of the ‘Shuck-Hound’ — a spectral black dog with the voice of a whistling kettle. If heard before dawn, stay in bed and don’t answer the front door. It might be Old Morag selling her spiteful jam.

Thursday: Traditional day for Rook Tickling at St Rumhold’s Copse. Bring your own gloves.

Saturday: The Clemshingle Gargling Tournament at the Village Hall. Spectators welcome. Bring a bucket.

🌱 Portents, Omens & Unpleasant Happenings
A cat with one eye and a limp was seen sitting on the church lychgate in Nipplefold at precisely 11:37pm. This is traditionally said to herald the discovery of an upsettingly large marrow somewhere within the parish by week’s end.

The Creaking Elm in Pokesbury Twitten reportedly groaned thrice at dawn. Mrs. Bunt claims it’s a warning of “financial misfortune, damp socks or a surprise visit from Uncle Frank.”

🔮 Horoscopes

The Sign of the Velvet Newt
(April 17th - precisely 4:15pm every third Wednesday)
You may feel a mysterious tingling behind your knees this week. This is either opportunity calling or Derek from the bakery hiding under a table. Avoid mustard.

The House of the Disturbed Parsnip
(March 13th to August 2nd, but excluding Leap Years)
Beware of strangers offering you advice about fence paint. You will meet a confused heron. Lucky implement: a left-handed dibber.

The Wibbling Badger
(April 20th – April 23rd)
Those born under the Wibbling Badger may suddenly remember where they left that thing they lost in 1998. Love is in the air, disguised as a misdirected garden hose.

The Frilled Turnip (April 19–April 21, and 4:15pm every third Wednesday)

Today you will find yourself inexplicably drawn to a bucket of cold water. Beware of ancient coins, or anything described as “unearthly.”

The Lesser Stoat
(August 3–August 3)
Your one allotted day this year! Make the most of it by howling gently into a velvet hat and avoiding people named Maurice.

The Gasping Eel
(September–Next July)
An excellent season for dusting old bookcases, regretting youthful decisions, and dabbling in minor hexes.

🗞️ Classifieds & Announcements
FOR SALE: A gently haunted grandfather clock. Chimes once at midnight, occasionally utters the phrase “He knows you’re here.” £35 ONO. Ask at the post office.

SEEKING: A left-handed spoon for ceremonial use. Must tolerate pottage.

FOUND: A wax cylinder recording labelled “Caution: Do Not Play After Sundown.” Currently being stored in Virgil’s potting shed for “safekeeping.”

FOR SALE
Mysterious brass key found in the vicarage pond. Definitely not cursed. £2 or swap for a marrow. Ask Mrs Prindle.

WANTED
A moderately tame stoat for a 'quiet personal project'. Discretion assured. Apply to “Box 6½” at the post office.

🥒 Lost Object of the Week
One (1) brass monocle inscribed with the words “For looking askance at the void.” Last seen wobbling down Spindle Lane pursued by a goose.

NOTICE
The Cub Scouts’ Ghostly Jamboree continues to meet in the long-abandoned Scout Hall every Thursday at dusk. New members welcome. Bring your own torch.

🔍 Lost Object of the Week
A single, suspiciously damp glove.
Spotted dangling from a tree branch behind the allotments. Claims to belong to no one, yet always seems to be watching.

🐓 Village Gossip
Word around Little Grumbling is that Old Ned Bodkin has been secretly training a troupe of performing moles for the upcoming fete. Rumour says he’s teaching them to spell out rude words in the soil.

Meanwhile, over in Spindle Frump, Mrs Tibbins insists she saw the ghost of the WI’s original treasurer baking spectral jam tarts in the old church vestry.

Mrs. Higgerty of Lower Splotch claims she’s seen the ghost of her own cat, despite said cat still being alive and currently chewing through a string of fairy lights.

The Cub Scouts' hut in Puddlewick Hollow still echoes with the sound of distant campfire songs — though no one has entered since 1953. The vicar was heard muttering, “They’ve got new badges now. The old ones were… too effective.”

🍵 Midweek Mutterings
“I once knew a man who could whistle through his knees. He vanished during a Morris dancing incident in Lower Crumbly. Moral: Never trust a chap with tambourines on his shins.” — overheard from Virgil by Mrs. Stibbons outside the allotment gates.

Also: The Pokesbury Women’s Institute are “inviting” new members for their annual Midnight Pudding Contest. (Note: entrants should bring their own blindfold and a sturdy pair of boots.)

💄 Virgil’s Beauty Tip
“A dab of elderflower cordial behind each ear will attract favourable spirits, or at the very least confuse wasps.”

🖨️ Woodcut of the Week
Culled from “The Illustrated Compendium of Unsettling Folk Practices (1734),” currently on loan (unofficially) from the village library.