The world from my window

Tonight, a big old Dyad Moon is suspended low in the sky. It is a deep rusty orange, with wisps of clouds like chiffon around its neck. It is nearly midnight in The Enchanted Village and there is a constant, low hum - the sound of British motorbikes trundling through on a late night Whitsun bank holiday rally. Down the road, the lane to Bluebill Hill is strewn with homemade patchwork bunting, hung between the lilac trees, May blossom hedges and Narnia lamp posts. Tomorrow, there is to be a village wedding and a sneak preview of the marriage venue promises something akin to when Jane Austen met Thomas Hardy. And still the British bikes hum through the Enchanted Village, as the wedding guests snuggle down into unfamilar beds and the bride tries to get to sleep after a Baileys or two, remembering that this time tomorow she will have a completely different name. And 350 years ago tomorrow, on Oak Apple Day, King Charles II was restored to the English throne. An auspicious date for a weddin...

Just a quick blog this time. After the episode with the pasty, I haven't been right since. So as the sun beats down outside my window, the bus reverses past my house to turn around, the mobile library is just about to pull up outside my door and four dogs are having a barking match outside the village shop, let me wish you a very merry Oak Apple Day . It is the birthday of King Charles II and was once a public holiday held to mark the restoration of the monarchy. I am no monarchist, believe me, but any excuse for a holiday and having fun is OK by me. Besides, I have a strong affinity with Charlie. Local legend has it that my house was one of the many places in which he stayed on his flight from the Battle of Worcester. Surprisingly, this 6ft 2in Moorish-looking young man went unnoticed in 1651 when England was populated by midgets. Today, though, I can see the curtains of Mrs Bancroft and Night Nurse twitching as they ponder the identity of the dark haired man of similar height com...