The world from my window

Take a trip across to A Dorset Year to see what's been happening today in Lush Places. That's about it. Love Maddie x

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. ...

The hunt came and went yesterday, the only evidence afterwards being piles of horse muck in the square. Never one to miss an opportunity, Mr Grigg got out there before anyone else did. He put some on the passion flower and wisteria at the front of the house. And then he got told off by a passer-by for not clearing up the rest of it. Mr Grigg managed to avoid handing round the sherry and sausage rolls to the assembled huntsmen and women. He could instead be seen chatting to Mrs Posh Totty and our solicitor with a mouthful of sausage roll and mulled wine. I stayed in the window, taking photos and marvelling at the ever-changing pictures in this small rural community. There was a time when I would have been a lone voice, walking around wearing an anti-hunt sandwich board and spraying the hounds with aniseed. But that was when I was young and opinionated . I am now older, still with opinions but I tend to keep them to myself. Especially as Mr Grigg is more aligned to the hang 'em and s...

It is one of the those lovely winter days, with a low sun and cold wind. It is muddy underfoot and the chill air gets to your cheekbones. The children squeal in the playground before school begins, as Packman's bellowing obliterates the morning call of Russell's Crow across the valley. The sky to the west this morning was like a painting by a Dutch old master. Beautiful. In the early evening, Venus leads the charge to make way for an incredible array of stars and the waning Wolf Moon of January. Back in the real world, away from this dreamscape, it would appear the oil thieves have been at work again, this time at the village hall. One minute, there were litres of black gold in the tank. Then the heating packed up, Why? Because someone had gone round the back and siphoned the stuff off. Thankfully, Mr Grigg's offer of providing a padlock has now been taken up. There's nothing like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. Bin wars has also apparently broken ...