Knocking on heaven's door
The bronze nymph has disappeared. Her plinth at the eastern end of The Enchanted Village is bare, just days after I wrote about us waiting with bated breath for her to take off her poncho for the real rite of spring. Everyone was looking forward to seeing her nakedness again, like Botticelli's Venus rising from her slumber. Now only emptiness welcomes visitors. It could be that she has been taken in for some routine maintenance. I fear, however, it might be propriety. Someone, somewhere, is obviously fearful for our moral souls. Because this morning, a very large people carrier dropped off a gaggle of Jehovah's Witnesses at the top of the village. They were sent forth in pairs in various directions. The ones at my door were very nice, giving me a leaflet and then asking me if it was OK to smell my wallflowers, which I thought perhaps might be code for 'this one's going to burn in hell'. But their appearance made a change from all the political callers we...