When the most exciting thing to happen in the village this week is a car going the wrong way up the one-way street, a Gold Party at Lady Friend's is a must. It is circled in red on the calendar.
Lady Friend, she of the Jimmy Choos in the recycling bin and stacks of champagne in the fridge, has asked us to take along any old bits of jewellery we no longer want. A gold expert will weigh it and then offer us a fair price. We can enjoy a glass of wine, nibbles, a natter and buy costume jewellery made by a very talented young lady from Axminster.
I don't get invited to things like this very often. Never been a girlie girl, never been a lady who lunches, always too busy working. So I ransack the bedroom to find very little gold, apart from a Jersey milk bottle top, a pair of Monsoon bikini bottoms and an old bracelet from Argos.
The doorbell rings and I leave a grumbling Mr Grigg at home (how hard can it be to warm up last night's risotto?) to be accompanied by Ladies in Linen - Pelly, Darling Loggins, Mrs Bancroft and Night Nurse, who thinks she ought to have brought a metal brief case chained to her arm 'just for safety's sake'.
'What if someone mugs us?' Night Nurse says, as we walk arm in arm along the quiet street, past the nymph statue at the top of the road, the one whose bits are covered only by trickling water and caused such a stir when she appeared overnight two years ago. I swear she was winking.
Posh Totty is late and turns up with Jamie-Lee. They are weighed down like the Brinks Mat robbers. I push my Argos bracelet deep inside my handbag, knock back two glasses of sauvignon blanc and buy a handmade necklace for £8.50.
I know my place.
That's about it
Love Maddie x
Living in Greece for the past couple of months, I've been asked what the refugee situation is like here. Well, to be perfectly hones...
Oh my. Dorset is going to be bathed in swathes of light. The spotlight is literally turning on Hardy's Dorset, rural Dorset, that buco...
We're in the pub in Lush Places, our ears ringing from a night of wonderful music. The gritter lorry goes by, churning its contents ...
About seven weeks ago, I wrote a piece for my column in the oldest woman's weekly magazine in the world, The People's Friend . ...
For eleven years, this was my holiday. Not bad for a confirmed landlubber. It all began in 2004 when Mr Grigg and I were looking for a ...