The world from my window

How’s your World Cup going? I’m not even a football fan. For years I thought Baddiel and Skinner were singing about  Three Lines . But I got well and truly sucked into it last night. The England games are being shown on a big screen in the village hall, thanks to my soccer-mad husband, who took no persuading in setting it up after learning that the pub was going to be a footie-free zone during the tournament. Last night, the chip van in the village square was doing a roaring trade. “But it’s funny,” said the young woman in between battering cod and haddock. “I’ve never seen so many ladies queuing up. Obviously the men have something better to do.” Up at the hall, the smell of testosterone on a warm, sunny night hit me as I walked in at half-time with our supper. “Just in time,” said my husband behind the makeshift bar, before he was inundated with requests for ice-cold pints of Thatchers and Branscombe beer straight from the barrel. “You couldn’t...

Well, back in Blighty and the weather vane is toppling over. When it spins round it's like when Hitchcock met Dali. It's like a metaphor for my life at the moment. Even before the winds and gales started up, I was confused about which way to go, what with one foot in Corfu and my heart in England. You see, while the children and grandchildren talked about One Direction over Christmas dinner, for me it's more like every which way but loose. The reason I haven't blogged for ages is that I just don't quite know where I am. Still, the New Year and 2014 holds lots of exciting things. Maybe more books, certainly more Corfu and maybe a new job, if anyone will have me. Who knows? It's best not to plan too much. The main thing is I am healthy, if not wealthy and wise. In the meantime, I am soaking up the good old English weather -  literally - and all things Westcountry. Across the UK we've had floods and gales. My friend Tuppence's barbecue took ...