The sound of ladders being extended against stone walls fills the square this morning as the bunting is taken down from The Enchanted Village.
It coincides with a lull in the football, a realisation that England will not win the World Cup, no matter how many times Mr Grigg wears his football shirt without washing it in between matches.
Last night, my blog characters did a little conga through the night. At a party to celebrate three 55th birthdays and a 65th, the hall was full of people eating, drinking and dancing to a very well thought-out playlist. There was Posh Totty strutting to Uptown Girl, Jamie Lee sashaying to Lady Gaga and Mr Sheepwash sliding around the floor in sandals. I was feeling rather delicate after an excess of wine the night before but got into my stride by the time Mambo Number Five blared through the speakers. All day, I had avoided being sick but that very nearly changed when the nauseating Lady in Red came on at the end.
As we sat outside in the balmy evening air and I was boring a woman silly with some inconsequential rubbish, she looked beyond me and said: 'Is that a fire over there?'
Sure enough, on the horizon, flames leapt up through the trees like a bush fire. It looked remarkably near Farmer Mayfield's house. As we all gathered around going 'ooh' and 'ahh' and then saying 'well, I wonder where that is', the ever practical Darling Loggins declared someone should investigate. So she and Farmer Mayfield set off by car down the road, closely followed by Mr Grigg who can't resist a good fire.
My first thought was that it could be the Grigg-Sheepwash-Loggins wood store gone up in smoke, set alight by those pesky kids. But nothing so dramatic. It turned out to be hedge clippings being burnt as a centrepiece to a 16th birthday party in a field supervised by some very sensible adults.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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