The world from my window

The hunt came and went yesterday, the only evidence afterwards being piles of horse muck in the square. Never one to miss an opportunity, Mr Grigg got out there before anyone else did. He put some on the passion flower and wisteria at the front of the house. And then he got told off by a passer-by for not clearing up the rest of it. Mr Grigg managed to avoid handing round the sherry and sausage rolls to the assembled huntsmen and women. He could instead be seen chatting to Mrs Posh Totty and our solicitor with a mouthful of sausage roll and mulled wine. I stayed in the window, taking photos and marvelling at the ever-changing pictures in this small rural community. There was a time when I would have been a lone voice, walking around wearing an anti-hunt sandwich board and spraying the hounds with aniseed. But that was when I was young and opinionated . I am now older, still with opinions but I tend to keep them to myself. Especially as Mr Grigg is more aligned to the hang 'em and s...

The World from my Window is quiet at the moment, after the shenanigans of the past few days. The odd car pulls up and parks, French-style in the middle of the road, to grab something from the shop. Villagers cough 'good morning' to each other in the queue for the milk and papers. With dry mouths and bleary eyes. Our house became the venue for a New Year's Eve party, with 35 people bringing either sweet or savoury and plenty of wine and beer. The theme was 'posh'. There were plenty of twinsets, pearls and shooting breeches. I tried on two outfits before I remembered my late aunt's original 1920s flapper dress. With purple Primark tights and an appropriate pair of Jones' shoes I found in a hospice shop last year, I almost looked the part. But something was missing. I needed a band around my head. Inspiration came when I looked through the sock drawer. I found a pair of silvery tights and with these knotted around my forehead, a long set of pearls and a lovely ...