It is morning here in Mu Mu Land. The church clock strikes eight and then a reversing bus goes 'peep...peep...peep' as it does a three-point turn in the Square. This has been its manoeuvre ever since a gung-ho driver thought he could get round the corner of the one-way system and shaved several stones off the pub wall in the process.
A blind terrier called Titch yap-yap-yaps at nothing in particular as he scuttles along to the village shop with his elderly owner, Effie. She and Titch have been away from the village for months after Effie hurt herself in a fall. Many of us thought they might never come back. Titch's incessant yapping became a thing of the past and poor old Effie was forgotten. Then, out of the blue, Effie turns up at the village flower show, looking younger and more spritely than she has ever done in the past 10 years. Titch is still blind and still yapping. But those of us in the know feel things are now back as they should be. Justified, and ancient, and autumn.
Secondary school age children swagger down to the bus, great big backpacks swinging from their shoulders. A short while later the smaller ones, holding their mothers' hands, walk down to the village school. I see Pelly Sheepwash dawdling as if she were being dragged to work by some invisible force. Bellows barges past the house, late for work as usual, and a little while later Randy Munchkin will be reluctantly switching off her home computer to do her stint at the school.
The pelargoniums in front of the village pump are losing their vigour. They look as if they are a withering bunch of flowers placed there for a crash victim. Fortunately, my bete noire, the bizzy lizzies in their concrete pots, have long since gone to mush and been carted away.
It is autumn here in Mu Mu Land, where the seasonal cycle dictates that everything must change but, on the grand scale of things, nothing actually does. The fields are beginning to fill up with crunchy leaves, churned-up mud and magic mushrooms. The blackberries slowly ripen and the blackthorn branches are heavy with sloes. The spaniels chase the rabbits zig-zagging through the grass. The log piles are stacked up and the heating engineers' vans arrive to service the village Agas and Rayburns.
Number One Son will soon be heading back to university for his third year, the fairy grand-daughter has just started school and Number One Daughter is now a Mrs. The wedding is over and things are getting back to normal. But I am longing to see the photos. As mother of the bride, I had a handbag to carry so got someone else take the pictures.
The mobile library, with its knowledgeable and kindly librarian, will be pulling up outside the house soon. And Mr Grigg, who has taken the week off to finish the decorating, has just fired up Bob Dylan's Thunder on the Mountain, ready for his daily workout.
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...
With November comes the fog and Lush Places becomes Slush Places once more. It's muddy underfoot and the dog has a field day gobbling...
The Stylistics were never my favourite band, although I liked them. They were just there, always there. Part of a soundtrack to a life. Wh...
Artemis the Dog should have been called Chewy, really. Not as in Chewbacca , although she looks very like a Wookie. But Chewy as in, we...
There is a dancer here (he looks like a clothed kouros statue), leading the line and swirling around rather daintily. His long ringlets ...