The world from my window

Now that the vivid yellow of oil seed rape has disappeared from the horizon, and the lingering smell of damp bandages has fled along with it, there is a lovely sheen of blue beginning to appear in the fields. The crop is linseed and it is beautiful. I don't see it in The Enchanted Village, the sight greets me now on my way into work, along with cut hay fields and dusty roads. At home the elderflower is in full cry, the campions are going ragged around the edges and the long, long grasses sway in the breeze while the rigid, rusty docks compete with the nettles for air. In the Grigg household, there is a sheen of dust as the builders up their act. Two velux windows have been installed in our dining room, drowning it in light. Dog and cat hair compete for full coverage of the old carpet. The stain where the youngest spaniel failed miserably in his toilet training suddenly becomes visible, as if it were previously written in invisible ink. A huge spider's web the size of Botswa...

In the Enchanted Village this morning, there is a broken pint glass on the pavement where the children walk to school. I clear it up at 6.45am. It is nothing to do with me but I would feel pretty bad if a child cut their foot on it. The dog seizes my newly-planted nicotianas and spreads them all over the patio and then my hairdryer packs up just before I am about to go to work. At the new office job, the head honcho writes all over my work in big red pen and it is emailed back to me without even a 'thank you' or 'kind regards'. Another director delivers my work to his team and then comes out, smiling, rips up the paper and says: 'Well, here's what they thought of that.' I am tempted to pick up the pieces of paper and shove it into his smiling mouth. But I don't, because I am actually enjoying the job and, if I really get paid at the end of the month, the money will be handy too. After a hard day at the office, it is good to go with Mr Grigg to the pub fo...