Christmas preparations in my Dorset village
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...