There's more than One Direction at Christmas

Well, back in Blighty and the weather vane is toppling over.

When it spins round it's like when Hitchcock met Dali.

It's like a metaphor for my life at the moment. Even before the winds and gales started up, I was confused about which way to go, what with one foot in Corfu and my heart in England.

You see, while the children and grandchildren talked about One Direction over Christmas dinner, for me it's more like every which way but loose. The reason I haven't blogged for ages is that I just don't quite know where I am.

Still, the New Year and 2014 holds lots of exciting things. Maybe more books, certainly more Corfu and maybe a new job, if anyone will have me. Who knows? It's best not to plan too much. The main thing is I am healthy, if not wealthy and wise.

In the meantime, I am soaking up the good old English weather - literally - and all things Westcountry.

Across the UK we've had floods and gales. My friend Tuppence's barbecue took off and was last seen heading off downstream beyond the culvert.There's two tiles blown off our roof, the aforementioned weather vane is finally fleeing the coop and there's a shed overturned on the allotments. The Aga's blown out six times, the Christmas tree outside our house has fallen off twice, together with the metal bracket, and we've had a number of power cuts.

This was the scene from our front door on Monday night, before the tree came down.

Down the road, Mr Sheepwash has been using his new torch like a Jedi knight with a lightsaber as he checks out the river levels. The mornings are just so dark.

Our Landrover is going nowhere after the clutch decided to pack up on a hair-raising journey back from Taunton on Christmas Eve. Hats off to Mr Grigg for travelling seventeen miles and traversing half a dozen junctions without stopping. Now that's what I call a white-knuckle ride.

Yesterday, our new neighbours' car wouldn't start just as we - and they - were about to leave for Boxing Day celebrations with our respective families. My son split his new jeans climbing over into the driver's seat as they attempted to jump start their vehicle.

And the Peppa Pig knickers I gave to my great-niece ended up on her head. She's only two, after all.

Back in Lush Places, the church flagpole flaps on the tower and the Christmas tree lights on the village green play tricks on the populace by switching to flashing and chasing sequences on a whim and then go out on one side altogether.

'Those lights are a traffic hazard,' I heard one local person whine. For goodness sake, woman, get a life. Lighten up. It's Christmas. Why can't you just say it's lovely to see the square looking so pretty?

But, in among all the Christmas chaos, there is joy in the world. It's the details that matter, such as a sweet rendition of a school carol version of The Last Farewell by the tomboy eight-year-old, in an angel's voice, or overhearing a child talking about Marks & Spensive.

On the weekend before Christmas we had the Symondsbury Mummers performing at the village hall...

...and we had time for a quick bite and drink (you can guess which is Mr Grigg's) during a shopping expedition on Sunday...

..where we stopped to listen to some amazing young carol singers...

And then on Christmas morning, there was a surprise visitor on the doorstep of our other neighbour, Champagne Charlie.

Which may account for why these two sleighs made as table decorations by my clever daughter didn't get much further than the grandchildren's mouths.

It's been a non-stop fest of eating and talking and opening presents. Madness inside and out and things going wrong left, right and centre. It's home and I love it.

So here's wishing you a peaceful, healthy and happy festive season. And if you want it, may you find a new direction, even if it's just the one. But always watch out for a dodgy clutch.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x