The world from my window

Picture: Alexi Lubomirski/Kensington Palace The village hall in Lush Places wasn't exactly packed for the Royal Wedding. But it wasn't exactly sparse, either. Locals gathered together with food to share (and drink to keep hold of) as the big screen worked its magic. I did notice, though, some rather upmarket and expensive scotch eggs which didn't stray far from the person who had brought them. The bride looked stunning in a simple, white dress, and the bridegroom was a handsome, dashing serviceman in uniform. The coverage was well worth watching, if only to see Windsor Castle in all its glory and St George's Chapel lit up by those lovely flowers. Everyone agrees, though, that the preacher, The Most Reverend   Michael Curry, made his mark. No-one's going to forget that address in a hurry. We loved the sentiment and power and culture-clashing zeal of his sermon. But it was far too long.  He was aiming for six or seven minutes, but it went on for fourteen ....

The great February Storm Moon greeted me as I took the dogs out just after dawn this morning. The patchwork square fields were lined with white all around the edges. You couldn't see the top of the hill for fog. The roads were awash with water and on my way into the Death Star I saw a car submerged under a bridge. Picture: Bad moon rising above the hill. Celebrity Farmer has been moving dung all through the village. Mr Loggins has been using udder cream for his chapped hands. No word of Mr St John. During the snowy season, we could tell he was elsewhere because there were no tracks to and from his door. More importantly, there is no word from Nobby Odd-Job, which is a worry because he is on holiday in Australia. We hope he was not visiting Melbourne. I have been flicking news channels, fed up with the way television broadcasters now have to stand up and jig around and compete against crass graphics. All that makes me do is criticise their footwear or think what chubby hands they h...