Happy New Year!
Christmas came and went, too many parties to mention all over the village, and everyone suffering from coughs and colds, replicated all over the country. Could this be germ warfare? What a great way to disable the population!
On New Year's Eve, the Square comes alive with people in fancy dress pouring out of the pub and nearby houses. Pirates rub shoulders with nurses, a Legionnaire is caught embracing a Roman emperor and several men in kilts do cartwheels across the road. Up in the church tower, the die-hard ringers wait with anticipation, ready to ring the bells when the clock strikes 12. There is a clatter up the steps as a woman in a nun's outfit, whose stockings and suspenders are visible as she hitches up her skirt, and a man dressed as a Roman Catholic priest, complete with small whisky bottle in his top pocket, get there just in time to take their places to ring in 2008.
I greet New Year's Day with a sneeze and the sound of bells, as a group of morris dancers from another county descend on the village. Bleary-eyed neighbours emerge from their front doors - 'I didn't know this was happening,' is the refrain from all bar one as clog dancing ladies do a jig in a Square full of the remains of party poppers and silly string. Impatient drivers drum their fingers on their steering wheels, waiting to get through. Let them wait, I say, as the morris dancers' clattering sticks and bells make way for an ancient mummers' play in which characters such as St George, the doctor, a couple of devils and various others end up mock fighting, with bodies littered all over the road. 'I wasn't expecting this,' says Mr St John, his puffy eyes recovering from the night before.
Breaking news
The farrier's son has found a mobile telephone in a lay-by and flicked through the text messages to find out to whom it might belong. One of the texts suggests it belongs to a village VIP who has been having secret liaisons with a local businessman and - worse - going knickerless on a regular basis.
Bored youths smashed all the lights out on the Christmas tree on the green.
An all-night motorcycle time trial took place last night, right outside my bloody window. Every 30 seconds, a bloody bike roared by, support vehicles' headlights flashing through the window. It went on until about 4 o'clock. If one of them was you, thanks very much.
I have developed full-blown flu, which explains why I have not been keeping this blog up to date. My own fault - too many parties.
That's about it
Maddie x
On New Year's Eve, the Square comes alive with people in fancy dress pouring out of the pub and nearby houses. Pirates rub shoulders with nurses, a Legionnaire is caught embracing a Roman emperor and several men in kilts do cartwheels across the road. Up in the church tower, the die-hard ringers wait with anticipation, ready to ring the bells when the clock strikes 12. There is a clatter up the steps as a woman in a nun's outfit, whose stockings and suspenders are visible as she hitches up her skirt, and a man dressed as a Roman Catholic priest, complete with small whisky bottle in his top pocket, get there just in time to take their places to ring in 2008.
I greet New Year's Day with a sneeze and the sound of bells, as a group of morris dancers from another county descend on the village. Bleary-eyed neighbours emerge from their front doors - 'I didn't know this was happening,' is the refrain from all bar one as clog dancing ladies do a jig in a Square full of the remains of party poppers and silly string. Impatient drivers drum their fingers on their steering wheels, waiting to get through. Let them wait, I say, as the morris dancers' clattering sticks and bells make way for an ancient mummers' play in which characters such as St George, the doctor, a couple of devils and various others end up mock fighting, with bodies littered all over the road. 'I wasn't expecting this,' says Mr St John, his puffy eyes recovering from the night before.
Breaking news
The farrier's son has found a mobile telephone in a lay-by and flicked through the text messages to find out to whom it might belong. One of the texts suggests it belongs to a village VIP who has been having secret liaisons with a local businessman and - worse - going knickerless on a regular basis.
Bored youths smashed all the lights out on the Christmas tree on the green.
An all-night motorcycle time trial took place last night, right outside my bloody window. Every 30 seconds, a bloody bike roared by, support vehicles' headlights flashing through the window. It went on until about 4 o'clock. If one of them was you, thanks very much.
I have developed full-blown flu, which explains why I have not been keeping this blog up to date. My own fault - too many parties.
That's about it
Maddie x
Rather belated but what a wonderful story!
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