Love Actually
The whole village is talking about it. It kicked off just after people squeezed into church for midnight mass. I was at home nursing a heavy cold and watching Love Actually. Number One Son, home from University, came back from the village pub. He said it was boring and decided to go into town instead. When he came back a couple of hours later, he asked what was going on.
'What?' I said, oblivious, as I was soaking up the scene where the woman dives in to that muddy lake after Colin Firth's bits of flying paper.
'There's a police car parked outside our house and a load of angry looking people in the pub doorway.''
About half an hour later, Mr Grigg heard the sound of breaking glass and high heels running down the road.
The next day, as we had smoked salmon and champagne breakfast at Mr St John's, we heard that a group of people, including a local builder with his shirt off, had been in an angry mood.
An hour or so later, Mr Grigg got the low-down from the landlady and several others as we had a Christmas lunchtime drink in the pub. The story changed depending on who you spoke to and was embroidered that afternoon as we tucked into turkey with our waif and stray friends from across and down the road. Anyway, it involved punches being exchanged by Farmer's Boy and Fly-Boy-London-Barman, who have the kind of relationship our dog had with the tyrant spaniel earlier this year; punches thrown by Builder-with-Shirt-Off; slaps by Builder's wife on Landlord's Daughter (who had affair with builder two years ago); Daughter's Mother then slapping Builder's Wife; Fly-Boy-Barman legging it and then having two windows smashed by Landlord's Daughter. We are unsure of why this last bit happened, why any of it happened really, but Landlord's Daughter was knocked to the ground the previous week by the usually meek wife of another builder, so who knows. It was probably love, actually. Our own dear village square turned into Albert Square for the night. Eastenders was never this exciting.
Happy blooming Christmas!
That's about it
Love Maddie x
'What?' I said, oblivious, as I was soaking up the scene where the woman dives in to that muddy lake after Colin Firth's bits of flying paper.
'There's a police car parked outside our house and a load of angry looking people in the pub doorway.''
About half an hour later, Mr Grigg heard the sound of breaking glass and high heels running down the road.
The next day, as we had smoked salmon and champagne breakfast at Mr St John's, we heard that a group of people, including a local builder with his shirt off, had been in an angry mood.
An hour or so later, Mr Grigg got the low-down from the landlady and several others as we had a Christmas lunchtime drink in the pub. The story changed depending on who you spoke to and was embroidered that afternoon as we tucked into turkey with our waif and stray friends from across and down the road. Anyway, it involved punches being exchanged by Farmer's Boy and Fly-Boy-London-Barman, who have the kind of relationship our dog had with the tyrant spaniel earlier this year; punches thrown by Builder-with-Shirt-Off; slaps by Builder's wife on Landlord's Daughter (who had affair with builder two years ago); Daughter's Mother then slapping Builder's Wife; Fly-Boy-Barman legging it and then having two windows smashed by Landlord's Daughter. We are unsure of why this last bit happened, why any of it happened really, but Landlord's Daughter was knocked to the ground the previous week by the usually meek wife of another builder, so who knows. It was probably love, actually. Our own dear village square turned into Albert Square for the night. Eastenders was never this exciting.
Happy blooming Christmas!
That's about it
Love Maddie x
Coo and they said life in London was dangerous :-)
ReplyDeleteHappy NY to you and Mr Grigg!
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