For Forks' Sake

Once upon a time, in the small village of Cutlery in the land of Canteen, there lived a set of Knives, Forks and Spoons. They were a big family - 42 altogether - and 44 if you counted the two maiden aunt serving spoons who appeared on high days and holidays and could more than hold their own in the lifting of three roast potatoes ALL at the SAME TIME! (I know, hard to believe, but believe it you will). 

In this family there were big knives and little knives, big forks and little forks, dessert spoons ( or, as the Lady of the Manor likes to call them 'pudding' spoons), soup spoons and teaspoons. And they all lived together, very happily, until that is, they ended up in the Estate of Much Malarkey Manor.

At first, all was well. The knives, forks and spoons, in their various sizes and guises, would count themselves out to the dinner table - one, two, three, four, five, six - and count themselves back in - one, two, three, four, five, six. Every one had a place, and to that place they belonged.

Until one Fatal Christmas. 

Now, the Lady of Much Malarkey Manor, let's call her Denise, liked to prepare for Christmas Dinner the night before Christmas as much as possible. This included not only 'prepping the veg' as she called it (because that is what it was), but also hoiking the Christmas crockery from the back of the cupboard where it hid all year round, and giving it a good buffing. And whilst she was about it, she liked to buff the cutlery as well.

'Out with the cutlery,' she said, this fateful festive season, 'out with the spoons - 6, the knives - 6, and the forks - 6...'

Except...horror of horrors...

...of forks there were only five!

Well! How could there be a missing fork? The Lady of the Manor was confused. Aside from the Dish and the Spoon in the Nursery Rhyme, she was pretty certain that forks could not run off because of their lack of leggage. Nor could they just vanish into thin air. Houdini forks were the stuff of myths.

The disappearance of the fork caused the Lady of the Manor much consternation because she liked things to be Just Right for Christmas, and having to present a festive table with mismatched cutlery caused her much distress. Some might say, 'Get a life, Lady of the Manor. It's only a fork,' to wit the Lady of the Manor might respond, 'You'll miss me when I am dead because it is DETAIL that counts, you mark my words.' 

Anyway, after Christmas, and some cutlery-related detachment  therapy, the Lady of the Manor hied herself to the land of Ikea, where she purchased a new set of matching stainless steel fighting irons, of which there were six apiece. Round numbers. All present and correct. And for a time, peace reigned in the land.

But there was something about the estate of Much Malarkey Manor. Something strange. No, not THAT! ( Good grief...). For the Lady of the Manor began to believe that the Manor was situated in the middle of the Kent equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. Not because her yachts kept disappearing. Oh no! Because her cutlery kept vanishing.

Now, the Lady of the Manor knew it wasn't anything she was doing, because she had OCD (Obsessive Cutlery Disorder) and was given to counting her cutlery on a regular basis. That is how she knew bits kept disappearing. But where to? Surely not into the bin during some careless plate scraping? Or out into the flower beds during some careless chucking of the washing up water onto the garden during a drought in a effort to save water and be kind to the environment? Or, heaven forfend, vanishing forever under beds and sofas during cutlery forays into places other than the kitchen where food eating SHOULD take place but sometimes doesn't? 

All she knew was that at the last cutlery count (during a family dinner gathering this very week when matching cutlery ESPECIALLY matters) there were FORKS missing AGAIN!

And so the Lady of the Manor has resolved to purchase, in time for this approaching festive season, another set of cutlery. A set of cutlery in its own proper storage box. And that NO-ONE other than her good Ladyship self shall be allowed to open the aforesaid box and remove the cutlery. And that she herself shall oversee the return of the cutlery into its box, where each piece (count 'em) shall be nestled into its own defined space on mock velvet flock.  And then the whole caboodle will be secreted in a top-secret location known only to the Lady of the Manor so there shall be no random borrowing of a fork with which to eat cheesy coleslaw straight from the fridge. 

And whilst Certain Members of the Manor might find all this rather HILARIOUS, let them be warned that the sanity of the Changer of the Bin Liner, and the Changer of the Toilet Roll, and the Steamer of the Kitchen Floor, and the Recycler Binner of Things Left On the Kitchen Surfaces depends upon this purchase of Box of Cutlery. 

And that it shall be a purchase that SHE makes herself, and not a gift made to her on her impending birthday, because items of kitchen equipment are  no-no gifts for November birthday people, isn't that right Olly, my birthday twin?!

For the Lady of the Manor SHALL have a matching set of cutlery this Christmas, oh yes she shall. She shall deliver the Christmas Feast in Matching Accessory Triumph. 

And it shall thus be the same next year, and all ensuing years forever, yea verily it shall too.

And we shall all live happily ever after.