Stone the crows
I expect everyone's house is the same. The tinsel and baubles packed away, the spindly, sad Christmas tree ready to go to the tip. The house is clean, dusted - and dull. It is the same in the Square. From my window over the festive period, you could see the twinkling white lights of Christmas trees. Mr Grigg helped the neighbours take them down yesterday and now the magic has gone. Just dull, mushiness. Cold, wet, dreary.
Before the real world kicked back in, our festivities continued this weekend with a safari supper for 14. We had pre-dinner drinks and nibbles at one house, walked down to the next for starters, strode up to ours for main course, ambled down the lane for puddings at Mr and Mrs Sheepwash's, back up next door for cheese and biscuits and then staggered across the road for after-dinner drinks. We were stuffed with goats cheese, venison, veggie delights and all sorts. As we made our way across the road, someone had written 'Sex Bom' in the frost on my car windscreen so I promptly wrote 'Arse' on Mr Grigg's car. If the youngsters can do it, so can we. Spelling mistakes and all.
It's back at work this week for us all. Today is an easing-in-smoothly-day for me but not so for Mr Grigg who declared he had a store throat just before he began an hour-and-half-commute at 7.30 this morning. I am back in the council bunker tomorrow. Can't wait.
Mr Grigg told me yesterday he met a man smoking marijuana on a bench on the village green two days ago. He was sitting right in front of an upturned frozen blackbird, legs sticking up in the air, possibly after inhaling. As Mr Grigg picked it up and threw it in the hedge, the man asked: 'What was that?' When told it was a dead bird, he said: 'Caw, I didn't see that.' Perhaps it was just a part of his hallucination.
The dead blackbird reminds me of a recent story involving Celebrity Farmer and a parrot. I am waiting for his permission to tell the tale.
Resolutions for 2009: find at least one thing to celebrate each month with friends and shared provisions.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
Before the real world kicked back in, our festivities continued this weekend with a safari supper for 14. We had pre-dinner drinks and nibbles at one house, walked down to the next for starters, strode up to ours for main course, ambled down the lane for puddings at Mr and Mrs Sheepwash's, back up next door for cheese and biscuits and then staggered across the road for after-dinner drinks. We were stuffed with goats cheese, venison, veggie delights and all sorts. As we made our way across the road, someone had written 'Sex Bom' in the frost on my car windscreen so I promptly wrote 'Arse' on Mr Grigg's car. If the youngsters can do it, so can we. Spelling mistakes and all.It's back at work this week for us all. Today is an easing-in-smoothly-day for me but not so for Mr Grigg who declared he had a store throat just before he began an hour-and-half-commute at 7.30 this morning. I am back in the council bunker tomorrow. Can't wait.
Mr Grigg told me yesterday he met a man smoking marijuana on a bench on the village green two days ago. He was sitting right in front of an upturned frozen blackbird, legs sticking up in the air, possibly after inhaling. As Mr Grigg picked it up and threw it in the hedge, the man asked: 'What was that?' When told it was a dead bird, he said: 'Caw, I didn't see that.' Perhaps it was just a part of his hallucination.
The dead blackbird reminds me of a recent story involving Celebrity Farmer and a parrot. I am waiting for his permission to tell the tale.
Resolutions for 2009: find at least one thing to celebrate each month with friends and shared provisions.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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