The world from my window

And so the countdown really begins as we start to pack up, throw out and generally sort through the house. With gifts of English provisions such as Jacobs Cream Crackers and Marmite from Darling Loggins, Manuka honey hand cream from Pelly Sheepwash and four pairs of silky and lacy knickers from the fragrant Mrs Putter (what was she thinking of?), I am almost ready for my Big Fat Greek Gap Year. But tonight we celebrate The Enchanted Village and its special people, the people who worked for weeks to put on four fun-filled days over the Diamond Jubilee weekend. It is our annual thank you party and people have brought enough loaves and fishes to feed the five thousand.  There is dancing to The Macarena and Cha-Cha Slide , led by Randy Munchkin and The Loveliest Lady in the Village. And then there is a lull when my iPod freezes on Born to Be Wild , giving Mr Loggins the chance to step in and say a few words. 'We're going to miss you two,' he says. 'But if anyon...

So, bathing in the success of our Diamond Jubilee weekend, I start daydreaming about the Lush Places Concert: The Enchanted Village Festival. It is a daydream I have often, rather along the lines of Wayne's World 2:  'If you book them, they will come.' We can source a 45ft trailer and a community field to put it in. All we need now is the bands. The headline act would, of course, be our very own Imagined Village . Then we could have my nieces' old school friends, The Staves . They'd surely play, wouldn't they? After all, they were at the same childminder's. And then Stornoway . I've just found out that the parents of one of the founder members live in the village. A winning combination, I think, don't you? That's about it. Love Maddie x

It was the mother of all Diamond Jubilee parties. There was more going on in this Enchanted Village than anywhere else in the country. Our street party rocked, and it all started with the arrival of a huge truck outside my house. The stage had arrived, courtesy of our former parish council chairman who just happens to run a construction company. Afternoon tea in the sunshine, a parade of banners around the village, a patriotic playlist of God Save the Queen, Land of Hope and Glory , the Thunderbirds theme and Bernard Cribbins, plate smashing and vintage cars. A massive, grand hamper raffle, the presentation of the scarecrow competition prizes by the new vicar and the first reading of our very own poem, put together from lines supplied by villagers. The pub ran out of beer and the barbecue ran out of burgers. There were hundreds and hundreds of people. We even had a fly-past by a microlight. Our very own Back Lane Band, with our former shopkeeper and Mr Prayer (who cu...

Scarecrow made, although it's in bits. Victoria sponge for the village competition done and dusted and bigger than Mr Grigg's. Prams done for the pram race, Big Breakfast all set for tomorrow, village Jubilee poem written, laminated and ready to post in the empty shop window after I read it live from a 45ft trailer stage at our street party on Monday. Coronation chicken done (recipe from parish magazine), jelly made for grandchildren tomorrow. Grand playlist sorted. Session on the decks with Ding Dong Daddy and Number One Son on Sunday. Family descending in Sheepwash, Bancroft, Odd-Job, Putter, Champagne-Charlie, Grigg household and everyone else's over the next few days. There's even talk of a live webcam in the village square. Phew, shattered already. And the Jubilee Weekend has not yet begun. That's about it. Love Maddie x

In the hot, early summer sun, the union flags and multi-coloured bunting welcome visitors to our enchanted village. The nymph is still in heavy grey coat, waiting to emerge from her winter chrysalis in a riot of red, white and blue in time for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. Up on the allotments, Mr Grigg, Mr Sheepwash and Mr Loggins, armed with Nobby Odd-Job's chainsaw, are cutting an old telegraph pole down to size ready for the jubilee beacon. Mrs Bancroft is roaring off somewhere or another in her frog-eye Sprite and my pride-and-joy Beetle is outside the house gearing up for those lazy, hazy days of summer. Bubbles, from next door, sneaks a sprig of my rosemary for a barbecue later this afternoon. Next door, Mr Champage-Charlie is mowing the grass again, getting the level perfectly right for a nice game of croquet. The fragrant Mrs Putter and her husband, Putt, amble down the road for a chilled glass of rose. The union flag flaps above the pub door as thirs...

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, ...

As The Enchanted Village MP is castigated in the national news this morning for dumping parliamentary and constituency papers in a London park bin, the Twitter airwaves are buzzing. Oliver ‘Bin’ Letwin is the new name for the man who called at my house earlier this year asking for my vote. At the time, you’ll remember , I was worried my friend thought it was me who'd defaced a poster of him by adding spectacles, horns and a twirly moustache. On my doorstep, he looked nothing like this picture of him. After the story in the Daily Mirror , Mr Letwin is now ‘trending’ on Twitter, bless him. This, from Queen_UK (Elizabeth Windsor): ‘Just received weekly briefing papers from Oliver Letwin. He leaves them in the bin outside. One picks them up whilst walking the corgis.’ And from RogerQuimbly: ‘I think that Oliver Letwin makes an excellent Womble.’ Professional comedian mrchrisaddison: 'I tell you what, there are some surprisingly well-informed tramps in the parks Oliv...

This weekend I changed my Blogger profile picture: (I'll explain later).   Now if I'd been wearing it at last night's Mr Scruff gig, no-one would have batted an eyelid. Girls in bear hats, boys in crocheted hats, pork pie hats and baseball caps, an old man in shades with a wispy Salvador Dail-style moustache and goatee, Mr Grigg in a Wobble Control tee-shirt and a white bearded steward who looked like he could quite easily have done the James Robertson Justice voiceover in the surreal track, Fish . Trout are freshwater fish and have underwater weapons  Trout are very valuable and immensely powerful  Keep away from the trout Mr Scruff himself, with headphones atop his smooth head like a Roman emperor wearing a crown of laurel leaves. His adoring public whooped and hollered to pulsating beats and Latin rhythms. And still the Electric Palace clock said five past nine. My blog characters, all bar Pelly and Anakin Sheepwash, decided to give...