The world from my window

Back home in the Enchanted Village and a queue snakes around the hall car park. Morris dancers with blacked-out faces wave their hankies and dance gaily around the tarmac. Inside, a sound check is carried out and the beautiful voice of a singing woman soars through the evening air. My friend Tuppence opens the doors - a feat in itself because she's a slip of a thing - and the crowd rushes in, making for the bar and a barrel of Branscombe Brewery's best bitter. At the counter is Nobby Odd Job and Mr Loggins while Pelly, Mr Sheepwash and Mrs Bancroft and I dispense the drinks in the background. Mr Grigg - still sunning himself in faraway lands - would be proud of us. The music acts as a disembodied soundtrack to the pouring of wine and beer. It's like The World from My Window: The Movie . On stage is Ding Dong Daddy, tonight's promoter, with assorted members of his band The Imagined Village . 'He's famous,' my ethnomusicologist cousin said to me a few weeks ...