The world from my window

When the most exciting thing to happen in the village this week is a car going the wrong way up the one-way street, a Gold Party at Lady Friend's is a must. It is circled in red on the calendar. Lady Friend, she of the Jimmy Choos in the recycling bin and stacks of champagne in the fridge, has asked us to take along any old bits of jewellery we no longer want. A gold expert will weigh it and then offer us a fair price. We can enjoy a glass of wine, nibbles, a natter and buy costume jewellery made by a very talented young lady from Axminster. I don't get invited to things like this very often. Never been a girlie girl, never been a lady who lunches, always too busy working. So I ransack the bedroom to find very little gold, apart from a Jersey milk bottle top, a pair of Monsoon bikini bottoms and an old bracelet from Argos. The doorbell rings and I leave a grumbling Mr Grigg at home (how hard can it be to warm up last night's risotto?) to be accompanied by Ladies in Linen ...

It was Mr Grigg's turn to have it bad yesterday. He was almost obliterated when an articulated lorry ripped the front off the Freeloader as he stopped at a junction. And then, when he got over the shock, he spent an hour putting an Argos filing cabinet together, which he has been doing on and off all week, only to find it will our files won't fit in it. Bugger. So we cut our losses, took delivery of a brand new vehicle while the insurance people sort things out and went to the pub. I was not looking forward to it. I thought one of my blog characters was going to hit me. But no, we sat down, talked about someone else and were best friends for half an hour. So that's a relief. I do not need to wear the disguise. It was Mrs Packman's 40th birthday party. Mamma Mia was there, Mrs Robinson, Muscle and Randy, Celebrity Farmer and a whole host of other people. Mr St John was notable by his absence. These days he is like a teenager in the first stage of love. People are worri...