The world from my window

It's just three days to go and there are boxes of Christmas decorations in our hallway and cards still not delivered. It is freezing cold, it snowed on Sunday and we are running out of heating oil. I have just had a row with Mr Grigg, my credit card statement has come through and yet again one of my clients is having difficulty in paying me. Happy blooming Christmas! But we are, at least, in the festive spirit thanks to Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie who had a jolly, booze-filled open house on Sunday, and Mr Loggins and his band of merry mummers, who entertained us all in our village hall on Saturday night. The mummers play is from ages past. It's a simple tale of good and evil, death and rebirth, comedy and magic, hard to explain but great to watch. A clip from an outside performance in My Kind of Town gives you a flavour. The clip doesn't show you the best character, a telepathic pony that excels at hunting out naughty children. A friend of mine from Australia was sitting a...

The sun beat down in Dorset again yesterday for a glorious afternoon at the point-to-point races . Turning up just after the first race, we managed to miss the £25 per car entrance fee, which was just as well because Mr Grigg would probably have turned back. We could have walked because the course is only about a mile away as the crow flies. But then crows fly, and we don't. I got very excited when my horse jumped in first place over the last fence. Until I realised they had another circuit to go. I am not very up on this horse racing business. I still call racecards 'programmes'. Posh Totty was there and so was Celebrity Farmer. I have candid photos to prove it. But other friends, who shall remain nameless, kept away because of the amateur steeplechase's association with hunting. As a former placard-carrying, aniseed-spraying sab, I have mellowed in recent years and almost turned completely the other way when hunting was banned. It's not that I approve of hunting. ...