The world from my window

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas here in Lush Places. The trees are up above our doors and the lights are due to go on officially this coming Saturday, although I've thrown caution to the wind and switched mine on already.  The lights are warm white, more's the pity. You see, I have once again bottled out of following my non-conformist heart and gone for coloured ones. My lights may be warm white but in an act of quiet rebellion I've already got them on, several days before they are supposed to be. On Saturday evening, the vicar will throw the switch of the giant tree on the village green and then all of us will sing  We Wish You a Merry Christmas  before scuttling out of the cold and into the pub for mince pies, mulled wine and Christmas carols. Meanwhile, my little tree, with its wispy tail of lights across the front of my house, will be saying triumphantly to the rest of the spruce bunch, 'well, I beat you to it. I've had a whole week to shin...

The Christmas lights are on in the Lush Places Square and, so far, there have been no complaints over the garishness or otherwise of the strings of illuminations up on the trees above our doors. In previous years, there have been mutterings over flashing lights or ones now quite fitting the 'warm white' brief. Four years ago, the pub put up a tree which looked a bit like something else when lit up at night. I won't say what, you'll just have to jump to this link from way back when and see for yourself. This year, the pub is looking very festive, with Betty and Bob, the two gnomes that stand in the front windows, dressed in full Santa gear, looking rather like yuletide Yodas either side of the door. Up on the village green, the fir tree and its pretty lights sway in the wind, an advent beacon for the darkest time of year. On Saturday night, out in the cold, DJ Landlord from the pub did the honours and counted down for the big switch-on, and the other trees arou...

Caruso says a few words to declare The Enchanted Village christmas tree lights well and truly on. A switch is thrown and there is applause as the lights illuminate the village green. Applause because no-one really thought they would come on at all. Down the road, a tree lights up above Mr and Mrs Champage-Charlie's front door, over the church shop, at Mrs Bancroft's and, last but not least, the Grigg abode. It is a relief because a few hours earlier, Mr Grigg had a plaintive phone call from Mrs Bancroft who wailed: 'My lights have come on and it's only half past three.' So the timers were all adjusted and we just hoped for the best. We had no idea if anyone would turn up for this step into Christmas but well-wrapped-up figures come from here there and everywhere to join in the ceremony. It isn't quite Oxford Street but it's ours, and it's going well. There is mulled wine and cider, mince pies and carols around the tree led by Tuppence. I trill li...