Well, the Canadians have gone back, just as the weather started to get really cold. They're from opposite sides of the country, one flew to the east coast to Nova Scotia and the other flew to the west and Vancouver Island.
That just leaves the cuckoo's nest and it's right here.
The village is strangely quiet now that the shop is closed and the pub is winding down before the publican bows out. I think the Canadian ladies were a little disappointed that The Enchanted Village failed to enchant. And I'm afraid I didn't inspire them much either. I think they thought I'd be funny in person when all I am in real life is funny peculiar.
Anyway, I am having to wear fingerless gloves to type at the moment. It is so cold. I have been wearing a quilted jacket and hat and scarf in the house for the past couple of days. Mr Grigg has finally got the message and allowed me to have the heating on.
He has just taken an hour-and-half to have his hair cut because he needed to call into the pub in the next town on his way home to get some cider.
He is now geting ready for a night out with Nobby Odd-Job, MDF Man and Mr Sheepwash to watch the football and fish and chips. He is shuffling around in his slippers which he will deposit in the middle of the room so they become a trap. Why he can't pick his feet up when he walks or put the darn things away is beyond me.
Then it's rugby in the morning and then a day out with his Number One Son on Sunday. Meanwhile, I am home alone with a house like a tip while the new kitchen is being put in so no cooker to cook on. Mrs Bancroft and Pelly Sheepwash have gone away for the weekend and I have hours of ancient Greek revision to look forward to.
A whole weekend of it.
Oh lucky me.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
The Beetle’s trundled more than eighteen hundred miles across Italy and France, with cars and lorries tooting both in frustration (it takes...
They say that good things come in threes... Well, two good things have just happened to me, writing-wise. There's a feature about my...
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was a child in a meadow with a woodland circle of beech trees around me. And there was clover growing i...
We slipped out of the hallway, Martha the dog and me, edging past baskets of logs, boxes of things for a village event, a dog crate and musi...
They say you should never go back. But I did at the weekend, going back to where my grandfather was born in 1891 and where, in 19...