The Mustress Gets Some Good News

Comrades, today Mumsnet allowed the Mustress to return to their hallowed website.

It was a time for great celebration. The two-week ban was lifted (without prejudice, I hope.)

Not that the Mustress’s crimes had been terribly reprehensible. Oh, no. There was just a minor disagreement/spat between the Mustress and MNHQ.

Possibly some opprobrious remarks were made.


It was a very good day in other ways, too. Mr. Mhor served a double-yolker for the Mustress’s breakfast and the local shop sent a daffodil (for reasons unknown) but it made the love seat look more attractive.

Oh, and on the subject of the love seat, readers may remember that when Mr. Mhor constructed it, he put one of the bars on the wrong way round. The Mustress had imagined that this would be rectified immediately, as soon as she pointed it out and raised a complaint.

Not so.

Mr. Mhor has failed to deconstruct the love seat and put the bar on the right way round. In fact, he spent several hours in the garden today, sitting on the love seat, doing nothing and drinking beer.

I think he may have misplaced the list of chores with which he had been furnished. That is the only explanation. The Mustress was very busy herself, trying to work out if it was going to be worth fifty quid a year to subscribe to Mumsnet’s new Premium Service.

On the one hand there didn’t seem to be any benefit.

On the other – well, maybe if they are being paid, they will be less likely to ban posters for specious reasons. Who knows? A knotty problem.

Oh well. At least today’s egg was worthy of comment.

The love seat can (and will) be tackled tomorrow.

Desperation Abounds in Mhor Cottage

Mhor Cottage

Things are coming to a pretty pass when there is only one slice of haggis in the fridge.

There is no Stornoway black pudding and only four eggs (from the new hens). As for circular square sausage, you would think it did not exist.

Sadly (for Mr. Mhor) there is also no fruit pudding, although there is a reasonable quantity of bacon.

What has caused this sorry state of affairs? The Robbing Butcher, of course. As ever, he has created misery in the village, and he continues to be very reticent about his opening hours. You would think that he would want to be open, so that he could sell his goods and make a profit.

The Mhors have taken drastic action, however. Only today, we made top-secret plans to obtain our breakfast items from a different Robbing Butcher (N.B. Are there any non- Robbing Butchers? Is there a Society for Robbing Butchers?)

Of course, we are prohibited from driving anywhere unnecessarily at the moment but we are entitled to go out to get food. And since we live rurally……

Oh well. The game was not worth the candle. Mr. Mhor and the Mustress had a row in the car, and did not leave the village.

Back to the drawing-board. Possibly we will make a further attempt to visit a different Robbing Butcher in a few days’ time.

In the meantime, in order to pacify the Mustress, Mr. Mhor has agreed that she is entitled to all the eggs and circular square sausage.

Quite right.

The Mustress Becomes Really Suspicious

Bewildered does not begin to cover it. Shocked is nearer.

The Robbing Butcher has only sent me a “FRIEND” request on Facebook.

Why would be do this? Has he got wind of this website, this blog? Does he think I will share my profits when a publisher notices this blog and decides that it is worthy of publication?

I put nothing past the RB. Nothing.

I have today been trying to order some flowers online. So far, I have been offered allegedly “free” delivery slots (which cost at least £1.99) and “discounted” bouquets, whose cost is astronomical.

Has the Robbing Butcher managed to control my internet usage now?

Am I just being paranoid? These are worrying times. But a “FRIEND” request – really?

You can all tell that I am prepared to lay all crimes at the Robbing Butcher’s door, even if (realistically) he can have nothing to do with these things.

Shall I accept his request? They say that you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer.


A Giraffe Eats Mr. Mhor’s Lunch

Many, many years ago, Mr. Mhor was a small boy.

His class at school were taken to the Opening Day of the Blair Drummond Safari Park.

All was going well, until the teachers got Class X (yes, I know – that needs a post to itself) to sit under a tree.

The animals – deer, goats, giraffes etc, were (apparently) permitted to wander at will. Class X had already admired the gorillas on their secluded island.

Mr. Mhor took out his sandwich (cheese, if that is relevant) and took his first bite. Foolishly, he waved it above his head (no, I do not know why, either) and a giraffe seized his chance, and took it.

Seconds later the giraffe swallowed it whole. Mr. Mhor claims that the giraffe did not even bother to chew the sandwich, which showed that it had no table manners.

Knowing Mr. Mhor as I do, this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

The rest of Class X removed themselves and their sandwiches immediately from the danger zone. They also laughed heartily.

Mr. Mhor was provided with a second sandwich, so all was well.

I cannot help wondering what would happen if I bought some circular square sausage from the Robbing Butcher, which was subsequently eaten by a giraffe (anything is possible nowadays) if the Robbing Butcher would supply replacement circular square sausage.

Since the RB has no reputation for altruism, it seems unlikely.

Mumsnet Fails To Decide

Well, I have wondered for long enough. What is the correct term for circular square sausage? How could The Mustress find out?

Ha! As ever, the answer was close at hand. I finally had a lightbulb moment earlier today.


Yes – this was definitely the only thing to do. All the Scottish members of MN would be able to advise The Mustress.

Huh. After a hundred and three posts, I am disappointed to report that I am none the wiser. Nobody seems to know. There was a good deal of poor SpAG (one cannot start threads on MN without encountering this) and a small proportion of posters considered that The Mustress was a time-waster (now this may be true) but nobody knew what the correct term for circular square sausage was.

And please – do not email me and tell me what you, personally, call it. There is a limit to the quantity of messages which are syntactically incorrect for anyone to endure, and I reached my own limit several hours ago.

In my experience, Mumsnet has strong opinions about absolutely everything, especially if you start a thread in AIBU (Am I Being Unreasonable), which can be a terrifying minefield for the unwary. However, I thought I would get a definitive answer, but I was wrong. Nobody knew.

I blame the Robbing Butcher. He should not have branched out into circular square sausage.

The Robbing Butcher Confuses The Entire Village

I have long wondered if my interest in the RB’s opening hours is perhaps bordering on the obsessive.

After all – surely the Robbing Butcher has some sort of schedule. Nobody could run a business without one.

Could they?

Well, anyway – this morning I was perusing the village FaceBook page (always a place of hilarity and bad temper) and noticed that someone had started a post by asking, “Can anyone tell me when the butcher’s shop is meant to be open?”

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.

Within a few seconds, the RB’s grandson sent the enquirer a PM. Why you may ask, didn’t he simply post the Robbing Butcher’s opening hours on the village FB page?

To add to the mystique, perhaps.

Mr. Mhor Climbs The Walls

Mr. Mhor is inordinately fond of fruit pudding, which is a bit of a Scottish delicacy. He has gone three days now without it for his breakfast.

Personally I am not keen. Well, not for breakfast, anyway.

The Robbing Butcher has clearly got wind of the Mhors’ delight in the simple things in life. That would be breakfast, of course.

Without the RB the Mhors’ breakfast becomes mundane.


For some reason(s) unknown, the Robbing Butcher has failed to make fruit pudding for several days. Yes, he has plenty of eggs from the new hens. Yes, he has haggis and Stornoway black pudding.

He has square sausage – both the circular and the square variety. He has splendid bacon.

Why, therefore, has he failed to make any fruit pudding recently?

I will have an answer. This is unacceptable. This is insupportable. The Mhors spend a disproportionate amount of money in the RB’s shop, so they deserve a bit of fruit pudding now and again.

Or at least, Mr. Mhor does. The Mustress can live without it.

The Robbing Butcher Shows His True Colours


The Mustress decided to post on the village Facebook page, encouraging people to obey the government’s instructions with regard to social distancing.

I pointed out that visiting family on Mother’s Day was very foolish, amongst other things.

So far, forty three people have “liked” the Mustress’s post.

But one man was not impressed. He posted “NO – JUST FUCK OFF.” Hmmm. The Mustress had never heard of this charmer, so clicked on his own FB page to find out a bit about him. What I was about to discover surprised and amused me in equal measure.

He turned out to be none other than the Robbing Butcher, in all his glory.

Unbelievable. Or maybe inevitable. His response was deleted by the moderators of the village FB page and the RB tried to wriggle out of his rudeness, by claiming that he had not posted any opprobrious remarks to the Mustress.

But it was he – no question.

The Mhors will continue to purchase his circular square sausage as it is delicious.

But this was shocking behaviour from the RB – I am sure readers of this blog will agree.

He is clearly a Grade A Git.

Mr. Mhor Serves a Sub-Standard Breakfast

Let me start by saying that this is an unusual state of affairs. Generally, Mr. Mhor produces very good breakfasts indeed.

But yesterday something went very wrong. The Robbing Butcher (despite signage to the contrary) was closed. Horrified, the Mustress had to obtain supplies from the Co – Op instead.

No Stornoway black pudding. No eggs from the new hens (see blogs passim) and no very expensive (but delicious) bacon.

It was the eggs which got me. Despite the RB boasting about the eggs from the new hens, and the Mustress being dismissive of their quality, it has been obvious from the get-go that the eggs from the new hens are MUCH better than common or garden eggs from the Co – Op or even the previous eggs sold by the RB.

And the Stornoway black pudding – oh – it is SO good. Just incomparable.

The haggis. Again – superb.

OH!! THE CIRCULAR SQUARE SAUSAGE – what can the Mustress say? The Mustress would gladly live forever more on the Robbing Butcher’s circular square sausage and eggs from the new hens. No arguments.

So anyway.

The fridge and store cupboards at Mhor Cottage were blatantly depleted. Mr. Mhor did not warn the Mustress, but just got on with cooking breakfast, as he always does.

The Mustress was not impressed when it reached the table. Co – Op bacon, black pudding, square sausage, haggis and eggs.

Not only that – the eggs were not dippy. That was what broke the Mustress.

Dippy eggs are essential. Mr. Mhor knows this (as a long thread on Mumsnet will attest) yet he still served hard fried eggs.

Could this be grounds for divorce? I would gladly cite the Robbing Butcher as co-respondent.

Knowing the RB he would bar me from the shop, to get his own back.

The Mhors Undertake Some Car Park Policing

This was never going to end well.

The Mustress and Mr. Mhor had occasion to wait in the car park of a neighbouring village the other day.

This was necessary to obtain a grocery delivery.

Usually we take along a crossword puzzle book to while away the hours while we wait for the Tesco van to appear. We cannot get a home delivery as nobody delivers to such a remote spot as Mhor Cottage.

Not even the Robbing Butcher does home delivery.


The Mustress decided that in order to circumvent this problem, all she had to do was create an address in the next village, then intercept the delivery van. This has worked well for nearly two years. Tesco’s are quite used to it. The Mustress decided that it would be easiest if the address created was, in fact, the car park. Obviously they must know (hopefully) that we do not live in the car park.


Sitting waiting for the van to come. The Mustress had forgotten to bring the crossword book along, so a slight marital disagreement ensued.

Cue the midday bus.

– Why is he waiting so long?

– Surely all the passengers have got out? All three of them?

– The driver can’t be waiting for a booked passenger to appear? Oh. He’s going now.

– But why did he wait so long in the first place? Oh look. That van has parked where the bus was.

– He can’t park in a bus stop, can he? Will the delivery person be much longer? I wish you hadn’t forgotten the puzzle book.

– Look at that! That car isn’t allowed to park there! It isn’t a designated space, is it?

– Mustress, who appointed you the Car Park Police?

– I never said I was the Car Park Police, did I? Goodness. Now the bus in the other direction is waiting on the other side of the road.

– You’re such a busybody. Who cares where people park? It’s not like there are no spaces, anyway. We’re the only people parked here.

and so on and so on and so on forever.

Or until the Tesco van came, anyway.

MEMO TO SELF Do not forget the crossword puzzle book next time.

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