A walk in the black forest

Up on the hill, Mr Loggins and his wife, Darling, take a step back and admire their achievement. From the ruins of the Love Shack, where two years ago I blogged about Mr Loggins and his 'chimbley' and 'windle' (he is from Bridport, remember) and parthenon gable, something rather beautiful has sprung up  in its place.

It took its time, this wooden house on the hill, but they should be very pleased with themselves. It's beautiful. And a fantastic view from all directions.

And you, too, can enjoy it because they'll be opening up soon for B&B guests. (Although if you fancy tapping into the energy of the village ley lines, you should think about booking into Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie's, our next door neighbours).

Last night, up at the Brand New Love Shack, after we had supped on sausage casserole and mash followed by old fashioned English trifle and Mr Grigg's rhubarb crumble, Pelly Sheepwash, Mrs Bubble Champagne-Charlie and I made our way home down through the sleepy hollow where the trees wrap around you like an Arthur Rackham illustration.

Pelly Sheepwash gets distracted

They laughed at me, with my pathetic wind-up torch, but it shone a light through the darkness.

That's me, bathed in the blue light of my wind-up torch

We made it home safely and I was tucked up in bed with a good book by 10.45pm.

Two hours later and Mr Grigg, Champagne-Charlie and Nobby Odd-Jobb staggered back down the hill. 

'Follow me,' Mr Grigg said. 'I don't have a torch but I can see in the dark.'

The other two didn't believe him. Champagne-Charlie lit up a fag to guide them through the tree-tunnel and Nobby insisted on taking the right-hand side of the road instead of Mr Grigg's left.

Shortly after, a cry shot out.

'Ouch,' said Nobby, as he extracted himself from the hedge.

And Champagne-Charlie just kept right on walking. Mr Grigg, he was long gone.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x