The world from my window

And there's me, drawing up a playlist of new year's resolutions to keep me going through 2012 when I suddenly have an epiphany. Why not just put the soundtrack to my life on shuffle, and see what happens? The prospect is rather scary. It depends on what's in you in the first place. Because when my iPod is on shuffle, I can get cool new jazz from 4 Hero followed by Ernie, the Fastest Milkman in The West , tracks by The Hives I really should erase, the sublime beauty of The Cinematic Orchestra, Faure and Vaughan Williams, a rousing fanfare from Aaron Copland, drums by Buddy Rich and then Barry White telling me I'm his first, his last, his everything. And then Elvis saying I should return to the sender. So, fly by the seat of my pants or be organised? A bit of both, I think. It's always worked in the past. So Happy New Year to all my readers. I did think about jacking in the blog for 2012 but now that would be stupid. And any suggestions for the musical soun...

Well, the village wedding has been and gone and we all have the warm glow that follows a lovely bank holiday weekend. My friend Pelly's Number One Daughter was married to her soulmate in the wonderful setting of Forde Abbey, which nestles inside the Dorset border, with just a nod to neighbouring Somerset for its postal address. There were gasps when the bride walked in with her father to a score composed by the Cinematic Orchestra , as the huge log fire blazed in the great hall. A Jane Austen heroine, she took the arm of her husband-to-be, who in the film would have been played by a young Hugh Grant or maybe Dominic Cooper. There was even a distinguished wedding guest in a kilt. And the assembled throng sniggered when the registrar asked the bridegroom to repeat the words: 'I Timothy St John Dauphinois Sutherland...' The guests gathered below the abbot's lodgings and tower (built by the last abbot, Thomas Chard, in the early 1500s) for a group photo as the female photog...

In September there is a village outing - two nights in a rambling, old fashioned hotel in Woolacombe. Parlour games, communal meals and swimming. Blog heaven. But for the second year running, we are going to miss it. Last year we were on holiday and this year it's Number One Daughter's wedding. If I were paranoid, I could be forgiven for thinking the timing was deliberate. But I am not paranoid, which is just as well because two sets of neighbours either side of us have 'sold' signs like bookends on their houses. Is it us? Mr Loggins thinks not. He turned sage on Sunday when he said: 'The fact they've both sold means there are people who actually want to come and live next to you.' We are pleased our neighbours have sold in a so-called bad housing market but sorry they are leaving. They are village 'lifeblood' people and the square and our community will miss them. They will be a hard act to follow. Our elderly neighbour Gandalf is the wisest man I ...