The world from my window

As far as Star Wars goes, I nailed my colours firmly to the mast by declaring my faith as Jedi in the national census of 2011. There were 176,632 of us nationwide and 344 of us in West Dorset that year, including seven in my own village . I don’t know who they are, which is odd as I ought to be able to feel their presence. The Charity Commission subsequently rule that Jediism ‘lacked the necessary spiritual or non-secular element’ it was looking for in a religion. It said there was insufficient evidence that ‘moral improvement’ was central to the beliefs and practices of Jediism and did not have the ‘cogency, cohesion, or seriousness’ to truly be a belief system. The lack of fun and imagination of public bodies never ceases to amaze me. You see, much to the disgust yet amusement of my intellectual friends, the first Star Wars film – A New Hope – is my favourite movie of all time. There is something about its simplicity, its escapism and the fact that it’s a right rollicking adventure

It's the longest day today, the summer solstice, and I'm in a field of wheat  making my way up towards one of my favourite places. I never wear headphones on my walks because I enjoy listening to the natural sounds around me: the song of the skylark, the wind in the hedge, a tractor starting up on a nearby farm, a collie dog barking and a mole rustling at my feet. And then I hear, in the distance, the train going up to Crewkerne and then on to London and I think to myself, I'm so glad I'm out here in the wide open countryside, with just the dog for company. Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies. Or Dorset blue ones in this case. And then Julianna Barwick's wonderfully evocative, choral loops just enter into my ears, as if by magic. The grass has been cut for hay so we can walk down to The Wishing Tree without getting wet to way past our knees. The dog and I march along the striped carpet underfoot, which is not unlike something I'v

Late one summer Saturday morning, Mr Grigg and I - along with Nobby Odd-Job and Spanish John - venture out from Lush Places for an ‘experience day’ at Black Cow Vodka . It’s approximately eight minutes by car from the village, but we still manage to get lost, deep in the Dorset hinterland. “I thought it was this way,” Mr Grigg says to our good friend and neighbour, Mrs Bancroft, who’s agreed to drive us there and pick us up again three hours later. “And I thought it was this way,” I respond, pointing in the opposition direction. Spanish pipes up to save the day - and our marriage. He connects to the map app on his mobile phone, which politely directs us on our way. And then it blots its copybook by suggesting we go on the road to nowhere up an unmade track. “I don’t think it’s up there,” says a cautious Nobby Odd-Job. “We should just follow the lane.” Round the corner and there’s a Black Cow sign. At last we’ve made it - but with only minutes to spare. And then Mrs B r