The world from my window

I am sitting here, sipping champagne as Mr Grigg does some DIY in the garage just before the sun goes down. Forgive the decadence, but if you read my last post, you'll understand why I'm celebrating. Not only did my knitting Land Girl colleague and I win the best exhibition stand, we also had a visit from a certain former MP. Yay! Here he is trying to put the country's economic woes to rights by having a go on the roll-a-penny, which my dear old aunt made before decimalisation. From those dizzy heights, it was off to Maiden Castle, near Dorchester, where the grandchildren, Mr Grigg and I played Ancient Romans. 'Not sure you did very much,' Mr Grigg said, weary after all that marching. 'I had a very important job,' I said. 'I was giving out the orders. My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius .' And today, as the sun beat down on our backs, they were under starters orders for the annual point-to-point races just a hop, skip and a tro...

The world from my window is very different this evening. Instead of looking out on to the village square, with its red telephone box, pub, corner shop and parish pump, I'm gazing out across the sea from the South Devon Riveria. It's a warm and balmy night and the sea is like blue mercury, still and silent. I can hear birds tweeting and the television in the room upstairs where my colleague is putting her feet up after a long, hard day. Mr Grigg is keeping the home fires burning while I am in Torquay, staying at the hotel that inspired John Cleese to write Fawlty Towers . Honestly. Although the view from my hotel room is absoluletly stunning. If I squint my eyes a bit I can just make out a herd of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plain. This evening we will be putting on our posh frocks and dancing shoes for a gala dinner before retiring sensibly to prepare ourselves for another long day tomorrow manning an exhibition stand. The theme is Opportunities in The T...