Knocking on heaven's door

The bronze nymph has disappeared.

Her plinth at the eastern end of The Enchanted Village is bare, just days after I wrote about us waiting with bated breath for her to take off her poncho for the real rite of spring.  Everyone was looking forward to seeing her nakedness again, like Botticelli's Venus rising from her slumber. Now only emptiness welcomes visitors.

It could be that she has been taken in for some routine maintenance. I fear, however, it might be propriety. Someone, somewhere, is obviously fearful for our moral souls.

Because this morning, a very large people carrier dropped off a gaggle of Jehovah's Witnesses at the top of the village. They were sent forth in pairs in various directions. The ones at my door were very nice, giving me a leaflet and then asking me if it was OK to smell my wallflowers, which I thought perhaps might be code for 'this one's going to burn in hell'.

But their appearance made a change from all the political callers we've been having lately. We are in what is now considered a marginal seat, made all the more marginal, I fear, by the Tories' own campaign posters urging people to Vote for Change. This is if a conversation Mr Loggins had with old people in Sherborne this week is anything to go by. He swears it is absolutely true, and it goes something like this:

'Hello ladies, and what do you think about this election then? Decided who you are going to vote for?'

'Well,' says one. 'We're a bit confused. We've been voting Conservative all our lives but now they're telling us we've got to vote for change. So we're thinking about Liberal Democrat. That Mr Clegg seems such a nice man.'

That's about it.

Love Maddie x