I have just been down the Other End of the Village delivering cards and party invites. Never one to waste an opportunity if it means saving time, I thought I would walk the dogs as well. Big mistake. It is not easy struggling along a muddy lane with a bag, a torch, cards, a sensible dog and a stupid five-month-old puppy that will not stop pulling. I ended up shoving cards through letterboxes using my mouth (sorry if yours is wet in the corner) and then got completely tangled with dog leads when the puppy decided to do a Christmas jig around my legs. I was in danger of falling over completely. My arms were wrapped around my torso as if in a loving embrace. The more the dogs pulled, the worse it became.
But my knight in shining armour arrived in the shape of a helpful farmer who pulled up in his Land Rover as I struggled to break free from my shackles. He pondered for a bit and then untangled me as if he were sorting out a bit of binder twine. It was rather like a weird version of Maypole dancing but without the music and with dogs instead of other human participants.
This was not unlike the entertainment at the village hall last night. The local Mummers, who have been performing since 1850, put on their festive show to say goodbye to the old year and welcome the new. The play has four acts and features various characters including St George, the King of Egypt, Room, Tommy the Pony and lots of fighting. Our logging friend, Mr Loggins, takes the role of the wifebeater and is thinking of going back to being St George because he is fed up with being booed all the time. He has a bloody girt stick and knocks seven bells out of the poor wife to the point where they have to get the doctor in to revive her. This usually involves the husband trying to give her the kiss of life while the doctor straddles her from behind. However, the scene was cleaned up somewhat because there were children present.
While the Mummers did their play and the folk singers did their set, some bastard broke into the church shed and stole the mower.
Ah, village life.
That's about it,
Love Maddie xx
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