(12/13) The Year at Thrush Green Read Online Free

Dotty's niece Connie and her husband Kit, but Dotty relished her independence and muddled along in what she refused to call 'her granny flat'. She was lucky in that Connie and Kit respected the old lady's feelings whilst still keeping a loving eye on their sprightly relative.
    Dotty welcomed Albert and invited him into her cluttered kitchen.
    'I'll take off me boots,' said Albert, hopping about in the porch, before sitting down at the kitchen table. It was strewn with a variety of objects ranging from an onion cut in half, a saucer of peanuts, various tins and a collection of papers at one end upon which Dotty appeared to be working.
    She pushed them to one side, almost capsizing a glass jar containing a cloudy liquid in which floated some yellow objects which Albert could not identify.
    'Fungi,' Dotty said, following his gaze. 'A very nutritious type of bracket fungus which grows on those wild plum trees at the southern end of Lulling Woods. Delicious with cold meat. I'll give you a jar.'
    'Thank you,' said Albert, realizing that this offering would join many others in the hedge as he went home. 'Dotty's Collywobbles' was a common local complaint, familiar to Dr Lovell and his partners, and the inhabitants of Thrush Green and Lulling had soon learned that it was wiser not to broach any of Dotty's sinister brews. No one had actually died, but many had hoped to, when suffering from sampling Dotty's offerings.
    'Kettle's on,' said Dotty briskly. 'I shan't offer you coffee. It's bad for that ulcer of yours, but I'll give you some of my hot blackcurrant.'
    Albert's heart sank, but obviously there was no obliging hedge to hand, and he resolved to take evasive action as best he could.
    The kettle gave an ear-splitting scream and Dotty switched it off whilst she bent to rummage in a low cupboard. Several sinister-looking bottles emerged, and from one of them Dotty poured an inky fluid into two mugs.
    'There,' said Dotty triumphantly, putting two steaming mugs on the table. 'Just try that! That'll tone up your innards, Albert.'
    He took an exploratory sip, repressed a shudder, and watched his hostess attack her own mug.
    'You been busy?' enquired Albert, eyeing the profusion of papers.
    'Trying to sort out my funeral arrangements,' said Dotty.
    'You don't want to start thinkin' about such things,' said Albert. 'It's morbid, that is.'
    'Rubbish!' replied Dotty. 'I think one should leave matters as tidy as possible. I'm not so much concerned with the actual funeral arrangements. Connie has very good taste in music and choice of hymns, although I have made sure that we don't have 'Ur-bide with me', which I detest.'
    'I like it meself,' said Albert.
    'It reminds me of the Titanic disaster,' reminisced Dotty. 'Those poor people singing that hymn - unless it was 'Nearer my God to thee', equally lugubrious - as they slid into that awful Atlantic. I find it terribly upsetting.'
    Albert was dismayed to see that his old friend's eyes were brimming with tears.
    Before he could decide how best to cope with this strange behaviour, Dotty had recovered herself and was rattling on again about her demise.
    'It's the disposal of the body which is the difficulty, as murderers always find. I should really like to be buried in the vegetable garden. All that good humus and those minerals being released slowly into the soil would do so much for the plant growth. However, there seems to be a great reluctance to let me have my way about this, and I suppose it must be cremation after all.'
    'They do it very nice,' said Albert comfortingly.
    'Well, I hope so,' said Dotty doubtfully. She picked up her mug and drank deeply.
    'I suppose the ashes would contribute a certain amount of nourishment,' she continued more cheerfully. 'I shall tell Connie to put most of it by the rhubarb.'
    Albert felt it was time to change the subject. 'I really come along to see if I could do any little job outside for you. How's the goats? And how's the hens?'
    'Most kind of you,