The world from my window

It is three days AFTER Christmas and this morning we finally put up all the decorations. That's how behind we are in the Grigg household. However, we are thanking our lucky stars. While Mr Grigg and I have had a lovely Christmas, friends and family have not had it so good. It started with my dear friend Pelly Sheepwash being wiped out by the usual end-of-term bug which saw her issuing instructions from the sofa, Roman empress-style, to her large brood. Then there was calamity and woe in Jamie Lee and Ted Moult's household. After a lovely evening at Mr F Word and Camilla's, at which Mr Grigg disgraced himself by spilling red wine all over the pristine white tablecloth and then broke the glass trying to clear it up, we left very warily in the ice. We dropped off Posh Totty and MDF Man at their house, unaware of the drama going on up the road. The resourceful Jamie Lee, who must have come from the same 'don't walk without carrying' stable as me, decided to use the

It's just three days to go and there are boxes of Christmas decorations in our hallway and cards still not delivered. It is freezing cold, it snowed on Sunday and we are running out of heating oil. I have just had a row with Mr Grigg, my credit card statement has come through and yet again one of my clients is having difficulty in paying me. Happy blooming Christmas! But we are, at least, in the festive spirit thanks to Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie who had a jolly, booze-filled open house on Sunday, and Mr Loggins and his band of merry mummers, who entertained us all in our village hall on Saturday night. The mummers play is from ages past. It's a simple tale of good and evil, death and rebirth, comedy and magic, hard to explain but great to watch. A clip from an outside performance in My Kind of Town gives you a flavour. The clip doesn't show you the best character, a telepathic pony that excels at hunting out naughty children. A friend of mine from Australia was sitting a

Scientists spent hundreds of hours working out that octopuses are intelligent . Mr Grigg's brother spent five minutes working out the same thing . Oh to be in a warm climate, now the cold and wet is here. That's about it Love Maddie x

Just a quick post after a very busy village weekend: * a party at the Munchkins at which, consumed by alcohol, I ended up inviting everyone for a long weekend in Las Vegas the year after next * hangover Saturday * Christmas tree erecting in the village square * supper at our house for six with someone else doing the cooking * chief cook and bottle washer at Mrs Bancroft's light bites and nibbles open house yesterday * cooking roast leg of lamb with rosemary and garlic for assorted waifs and strays last night This morning I discover the dogs have fox mange and the Christmas tree lights outside our house have been on the random flashing setting all through the night. Classy. That's about it. Love Maddie x

This morning, as the rooks flew sideways, buffeted against the wind, I reflected on one of those very surreal weekends that seem to happen only in this village. It began in the pub on Friday night where the chrome pole was wedged twixt floor and ceiling, in readiness for a girls' night out involving a group of ladies including Mrs Bobby Packman, Randy Munchkin and Mrs Monty Chocs-Away. But there were no takers and the pole stood gleaming in splendid isolation, although Larry the Landlord was thinking about it, as he unbuttoned his shirt behind the bar and kissed his own shoulder. When the door opened and Posh Totty walked in, I saw Mr Grigg and Nobby Odd-Job's eyes light up. But the moment was fleeting, as she was quickly followed by her daughter Charlotte Whinge-Bucket (pronounced Bouquet ), MDF Man and Sparky Mark. During the course of the evening, Larry was talking to customers at a table near the fire. A young lady, tired of waiting for a drink, walked behind the bar and pu

Santa is preparing to make an appearance at the village school Christmas fair this Saturday. If he can sort out his transport, that is. The reindeer are obviously resting before the big day, Celebrity Farmer's quad bike is being serviced and the horses are all gearing themselves up for Boxing Day hunt meets. He dismissed a suggestion that he could ride to the fair on the back of one of the village's most attractive women. (No names here, but cast your eyes over my cast list and you can probably work it out). 'There'll be a queue for that, with bloody Celebrity Farmer at the front,' grumbled Santa, as he tried squeezing into his suit, which strangely shrinks every year just before Christmas. So while the transport negotiations went on in the background, I managed to get an exclusive interview with this very busy chap. I have close links to the man himself. I shall say no more. What do you like about the area? I go all over the world but, even for me, there is somethi