The world from my window

Up in the fields, the bluebells are uncurling. There's a frost in the corner but May is bursting out in the hedgerow.   There are swathes of cuckoo flowers and dandelion clocks. There's a dead nettle in a gateway, full of spare slippers for the fairies for when they go out dancing tonight. Down on the allotment, an early bird is listening to political debate on Radio 5 Live, the radio blaring out from an open window of his car while he digs in the manure. I can hear Nicky Campbell having a spirited discussion with a weasel. In the heart of Lush Places, blue things other than bluebells have sprung up over the croquet lawn and all over the village. They are everywhere. There are a couple of signs for Labour down the road but sadly they're tucked away, unlike the UKIP house in the next village which ought to close its own front door, pull down the blinds and leave Wessex, brick by brick. This whole election thing is leaving me rather cold. I...

And the big farm machinery rumbles through The Enchanted Village, big fat trailer tyres squishing over the kerbs as they march on to make more silage. The fields are white and fuzzy where pussy willow down has wafted across and trapped itself in a carpet of green grass. Dandelion clocks have been sliced through by council contractors cutting the verges and the air is full of wispy seeds drifting to who knows where.For the first time in months, we have had very hot sunshine and it has taken us all by surprise. It arrived not long after the Olympic Torch, which is making its way around the country. If you are at all interested, you can see it here, courtesy of the BBC. I am disappointed the torch is put into a vehicle on the quieter stretches of its long route. It feels to me like cheating, especially as Mr Grigg was not chosen as a torch bearer. It's like doing a marathon and taking time out for lunch. However, I digress. In the warmth about to hit us (as I write this, ...