The world from my window

It’s amazing what brings people to a blog. The more people who come here and gaze through my window the better, but only virtual gazing. I couldn’t cope with hundreds of people from all over the world in my bedroom. The reason for this post is I am currently getting a lot of people arriving here after putting ‘ union flag bunting’ into Google. I hope they stay a while and get a feel for what’s happening in England’s rural underbelly when it comes to the Queen’s special celebrations this weekend. One poor person from Lydney, Gloucestershire, found me by typing in ‘ jubilee flags too big on my window next door a real nightmare ’. I feel for you, I really do. You should see The Enchanted Village. We have union flags, Bristol City pennants, go-faster chequered bunting for the pram race, the official Diamond Jubilee logo and international symbols flapping all along our western entrance. Any minute now, the bronze nymph statue in the garden is about to be unveiled, wearing a re...

In the hot, early summer sun, the union flags and multi-coloured bunting welcome visitors to our enchanted village. The nymph is still in heavy grey coat, waiting to emerge from her winter chrysalis in a riot of red, white and blue in time for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. Up on the allotments, Mr Grigg, Mr Sheepwash and Mr Loggins, armed with Nobby Odd-Job's chainsaw, are cutting an old telegraph pole down to size ready for the jubilee beacon. Mrs Bancroft is roaring off somewhere or another in her frog-eye Sprite and my pride-and-joy Beetle is outside the house gearing up for those lazy, hazy days of summer. Bubbles, from next door, sneaks a sprig of my rosemary for a barbecue later this afternoon. Next door, Mr Champage-Charlie is mowing the grass again, getting the level perfectly right for a nice game of croquet. The fragrant Mrs Putter and her husband, Putt, amble down the road for a chilled glass of rose. The union flag flaps above the pub door as thirs...

And the big farm machinery rumbles through The Enchanted Village, big fat trailer tyres squishing over the kerbs as they march on to make more silage. The fields are white and fuzzy where pussy willow down has wafted across and trapped itself in a carpet of green grass. Dandelion clocks have been sliced through by council contractors cutting the verges and the air is full of wispy seeds drifting to who knows where.For the first time in months, we have had very hot sunshine and it has taken us all by surprise. It arrived not long after the Olympic Torch, which is making its way around the country. If you are at all interested, you can see it here, courtesy of the BBC. I am disappointed the torch is put into a vehicle on the quieter stretches of its long route. It feels to me like cheating, especially as Mr Grigg was not chosen as a torch bearer. It's like doing a marathon and taking time out for lunch. However, I digress. In the warmth about to hit us (as I write this, ...

It’s not all sweetness and light here. Oh no, not at all. Here’s me, describing this utopia, this wonderful place where neighbour gets on with neighbour and where everything is wrapped in a rosy glow of peace and harmony, love and understanding. The Enchanted Village: where sheep outnumber the local population Except sometimes, it doesn’t work out that way. Something jars the energy in the ley lines that cross beneath the centre of The Enchanted Village and there’s a fall out, or someone's ill or someone's down in the dumps. But tomorrow night, we will forget all our troubles, forget all our cares and go down town, to My Kind of Town, to see Ding Dong Daddy's band, The Imagined Village, performing live at The Electric Palace. Every man and his dog from The Enchanted Village will be there. Delegates from Compost Corner where the pub regulars stare into their glasses and rule the world, members of the short-arsed bowling club will be out in force, the ladies from t...

After six weeks of unrelenting rain and the usual mizzle here in this part of Dorset, the fog lifted today to reveal the most wonderful sight. The Enchanted Village in all her glory. Oh to be in Dorset - West Dorset - now that May is here. And guess who's just had a one-to-one photography lesson, with the wonderful Kris Dutson ? I'm now using the 'manual' setting on my camera with confidence. Thank you so much, Mr Grigg. A special birthday present worth waiting for. That's about it. Love Maddie x

Up at the nursery, a new blog character, Mr Billenbenn, is a picture of concentration as he prepares the compost for the hanging baskets. He sprinkles a layer of fertiliser in, shapes the soil to fill the gaps and sits back to admire his handiwork. A swallow swoops into the large, dark shed, settles on the beam overhead and the two of them have a conversation. 'You'm cheerful today,' Mr Billenbenn says. And then he looks at me. 'Cor, he's a lovely little thing, inner?' Out in the greenhouse, hanging basket after hanging basket is suspended from the ceiling. A label is attached to each one, the grander the name the bigger the basket. It's like turkeys in the butcher's shop at Christmas. You can judge the calibre of the customer by the size. This year, there is a run on red, white and blue surfinias as the whole nation goes Diamond Jubile crazy. I um and ah about this contrived colour scheme, preferring to have a 'white' theme to reflect th...

                      It is the May Day bank holiday weekend here in The Enchanted Village. And, appropriately for Labour Day, there is lots of work going on. The pub is bursting at the seams, with  people even from My Kind of Town   venturing out for good pub grub and a cheery welcome from our new landlady. In the kitchen, The Pub Landlord is slaving away and will reward himself at the end of the evening with a nice sit down on a tiny stool behind the bar, with only the top of his head on view to the punters. Next door, the Champagne-Charlies are out in force, hoeing and raking the garden prior to an official visit by the outlaws. Bubbles is trimming a bush with an electric bush trimmer she got from the Innovations catalogue. Across the road, Mrs Bancroft is entertaining old friends, one of whom has a head like a stone on the morning after the night before. And in the Sheepwash abode, there is lots of eati...