The world from my window

Easter has come and gone with a mystery surrounding an apostle spoon. A set of 12 were loaned for a hot cross bun morning at the village hall and only 11 turned up at the end. Bins were turned out, window sills checked, as were the spaces behind the radiators. Despite a fingertip search, no trace of the spoon (or fingertips) could be found. It is ironic on Good Friday, the day when Jesus was nailed to the cross after being betrayed by one of the 12, that an apostle spoon should go missing. Will we find it hanging, New Age art-like, from a Judas Tree? This is not the first time spoons have gone missing in this village. A cutlery drawer devoid of spoons was mentioned at a previous hall meeting, when votes and counter votes were taken to go out and buy some replacements. The steel spoon enthusiasts won the day against the fans of the plastic variety and a representative was tasked to get some more. This stock has now dwindled, hence the need to borrow the set of apostle spoons from the ca...

It's the same year after year. Yet again on Mother's Day I wake with a thumping hangover playing double bass in a jazz quartet. Oh, these parties. The night before, Mr and Mrs Sheepwash from down the road threw a bash to mark their 30th wedding anniversary - child bride, she was. Anyway, it was a great night but I forgot to put my contact lenses in and spent the entire evening sharing an armchair with a friend who had also forgotten to put in her lenses. Between us, we gazed into each other's eyes because we were the only people we could see who weren't blurred. We solved all the world's problems while we drank the white wine lake dry. So, for Mothering Sunday, no bellringing for us because a) we got up too late and b) the daughter and grand-daughter visited with a chocolate cake so it seemed like a good excuse not to go up the church tower steps and risk a nasty fall and tinnitus from those bells. The day before, a huge bouquet arrived from the prodigal son from Un...