The world from my window

How’s your World Cup going? I’m not even a football fan. For years I thought Baddiel and Skinner were singing about  Three Lines . But I got well and truly sucked into it last night. The England games are being shown on a big screen in the village hall, thanks to my soccer-mad husband, who took no persuading in setting it up after learning that the pub was going to be a footie-free zone during the tournament. Last night, the chip van in the village square was doing a roaring trade. “But it’s funny,” said the young woman in between battering cod and haddock. “I’ve never seen so many ladies queuing up. Obviously the men have something better to do.” Up at the hall, the smell of testosterone on a warm, sunny night hit me as I walked in at half-time with our supper. “Just in time,” said my husband behind the makeshift bar, before he was inundated with requests for ice-cold pints of Thatchers and Branscombe beer straight from the barrel. “You couldn’t...

It's morning and the town square is buzzing. Not as much as it was last night, mind you, when there were stalls, music and plenty of rain. Today, there is a large cockerel crowing in the ramshackle garden next to my hotel. A caged bird sings five notes, over and over again, and not necessarily in the right order. The smell of coffee wakens visitors from their slumber. A new day begins. Here in Salento, Colombia, the town is making the most of Advent. At night, this little place west of Bogota, on the verdant coffee growing slopes of the Andes, literally lights up. There are candles in the most inspired cardboard holders in front of shops, bars and houses. Strings of white lights delineate doors and window and a decorated palm tree stands in the middle of the square. In the church where I light a candle for family I have lost, the nativity scene is resplendent with sparking lights, a little town of Jerusalem covered in tinsel. Christmas is coming. Out in the hinte...