Down came the rain
There are loads of sirens all over the village.
Emergency vehicles are tearing around. There are floods everywhere, the rain is lashing down like stair-rods and the wind blew my Union Jack umbrella inside out. I wish I was back in Greece.
In the pub, the landlord sits behind the bar, wedged into a small stepladder, his face level with the pumps. He is listening to the talk in Compost Corner, which turns to Nobby Odd-Job and his miraculous recovery after his heart stopped for forty minutes on the operating table.
He was instantly put on ice and was woken four days later. He squeezed his partner's hand but didn't register her presence. The next day, though, Posh Totty poked her head around the door and Nobby woke up like Sleeping Beauty and gazed lovingly into those piercing blue eyes. The village ladies are furious. It should have been them.
However, we are pleased he is making good progress. Especially when the church flag was flying at half-mast because the tower keeper got it stuck in the pole.
There is a new addition to Compost Corner. MDF man, considered by us girls to be the local eye candy, has joined the ranks.
There is a hearty discussion about trees and what wood makes the best swannee whistles (sycamore, apparently) and an idea forms in my head that these craftsmen could host a workshop with the village children sometime next year.
'It's at its best in May,' says one of them. 'That's when the sap is rising.'
There are sniggers all round.
And today, in the rain, there is nothing to do. Except 'foldyurkin'. Cue Benny Hill-type sniggers from Mr Grigg and a resounding: 'Ya!'
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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| Mr Grigg is tied to the mast |
In the pub, the landlord sits behind the bar, wedged into a small stepladder, his face level with the pumps. He is listening to the talk in Compost Corner, which turns to Nobby Odd-Job and his miraculous recovery after his heart stopped for forty minutes on the operating table.
He was instantly put on ice and was woken four days later. He squeezed his partner's hand but didn't register her presence. The next day, though, Posh Totty poked her head around the door and Nobby woke up like Sleeping Beauty and gazed lovingly into those piercing blue eyes. The village ladies are furious. It should have been them.
However, we are pleased he is making good progress. Especially when the church flag was flying at half-mast because the tower keeper got it stuck in the pole.
There is a new addition to Compost Corner. MDF man, considered by us girls to be the local eye candy, has joined the ranks.
There is a hearty discussion about trees and what wood makes the best swannee whistles (sycamore, apparently) and an idea forms in my head that these craftsmen could host a workshop with the village children sometime next year.
'It's at its best in May,' says one of them. 'That's when the sap is rising.'
There are sniggers all round.
And today, in the rain, there is nothing to do. Except 'foldyurkin'. Cue Benny Hill-type sniggers from Mr Grigg and a resounding: 'Ya!'
Love Maddie x
We've been following the stories of your terrible weather - no wonder you're wishing to be in Greece. We've had two days of summer so far - the slugs are bigger than I've ever seen, the roses are all lying on the ground and the tomatoes are rotting....but we're such suckers that we all believe better days are here to stay.
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