Hello

Today, while searching for a tin of 'Rouged Red' silk emulsion in the cupboard under the stairs, I discovered a family of gnomes. At first I was rather taken aback, not as much, I'll admit, as Jeffrey the male gnome who was in the process of lowering his trousers for a reason I thankfully will never find out, but after I'd introduced myself I began to warm to the idea of having them in the house.

I introduced them to Sidney, my cat, showed them around the kitchen and pointed out the locations of pots and pans, plates and cutlery. I instructed them on how to use both the oven and the hob and was surprised to find that Hilda already had quite a good working knowledge of Indesit gas cookers. We then settled down in the lounge for a nice cup of tea with a few Digestives thrown in to heighten my hospitality just that bit further.

Jeffrey explained that he and his family had been living in the house three doors down for a good part of the year, but had moved after being discovered. Hilda then said that they would have to move once again now that I too had discovered them as it is apparently against Gnomic law for them to stay in a house once they have been stumbled upon.

Sadly I had already become far too attatched to the family to allow them to move on and so I have, at the time of writing, got them tucked up quite happily in their own individual jam jars in the cupboard where I keep the rice. I have made provisions for them to be able to continue to breathe by puncturing holes in the lids and have given them a tiny piece of blanket to keep them cosy which I'm sure they appreciate despite the rather colourful language that both Jeffrey and Hilda seem intent on using. They most likely picked that kind of language up from the family three doors down who swear like troopers well into the early hours and have a car that coughs itself awake every morning ruining my lie-ins.

Besides, by allowing them to stay here in the cupboard, they'll make a fantastic talking point at all of the parties I'm considering having soon, once I begin to make some friends again after losing most of my best ones in last months debacle with the Salmon en Croute. I can just imagine the faces of my guests as I carry in the jam jars under a hand towel, whisking it away at the moment of triumph. Their gasps and adoring cries will ring around my house for years to come, ensuring that I am talked about in the neighbourhood for much more than simply accidentally poisoning five of my friends with a fish.