The cuckoo flowers are in drifts across the fields There are dandelions, nettles, honesty. Bluebells line the banks and a new baby is born to the Sheepwash household. Welcome to the world, little one.
In The Enchanted Village, the lovely Mrs Bancroft and I are planning a mad hatter's tea party to celebrate the impending nuptials of Prince William and Kate Middleton. My friend, Tuppence, has helped me collect lots of pretty china and we'll dot it around long trestle tables lined with union jacks, jelly, sandwiches and cake.
As I showed Mrs B the poster I had prepared for the event, she said: 'Yes, it's very nice. But you haven't actually mentioned the royal wedding.'
'Oh, do I have to?' I said like a petulant teenager.
I, you see, am by no means a monarchist. I get tired of all the hangers-on, the cap doffing, the cow-towing. But any excuse for a party and I'm right there in amongst it all. Any excuse for the village to get together and have a good time on an extra bank holiday.
And it's not about the Big Society, hijacked by the Government as if it invented community spirit. It's about people doing things together, in a spirit of oneness, cavaliers and roundheads alike.
So we're looking forward to a village party, where we can all bring food to share and marvel at our millinery magic. Although I wouldn't be at all surprised if Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie have been invited to the real deal.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
I t's a strange day today. Black as the inside of a bag and raining like billio. I don't like it. We had snow last week. Just ...
The mist clouds encircled The Enchanted Village either side of Fun Day and scarecrow festival weekend, as the international bunting flapped ...
We're walking down a wooded lane, Arty the dog and I. There's a high estate wall on one side, a long bank on the other. We crunch...
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...
Down in the depths, Boris and his sirens have slunk into the shadows. 'There is no plan,' they say in unison, sniggering behind...