The world from my window

Last night, the hall was heaving as villagers left their warm homes on a chilly night to take part in the annual quiz. There were about 90 people there and I am pleased to say our team members excelled themselves and came second. I was personally very proud to have remembered that Malawi was once Nyassaland. I don't think I spelled it right, but there were no extra points for spelling, which was good news. The winners were a team who should have been called the Smart Arses. A serious lot from the next village, they won it two years ago. But we had been led to believe they would never be back as a protest against the quality of the wine dished out as prizes. But came they did, bold as brass, and they disputed several answers (they were actually correct on one but the adjudicator wasn't having any of it) and when presented with their bottles, very swiftly took them out of the bags to examine the labels. We should have mugged them really on the way out. We managed to make the food...

It's the same year after year. Yet again on Mother's Day I wake with a thumping hangover playing double bass in a jazz quartet. Oh, these parties. The night before, Mr and Mrs Sheepwash from down the road threw a bash to mark their 30th wedding anniversary - child bride, she was. Anyway, it was a great night but I forgot to put my contact lenses in and spent the entire evening sharing an armchair with a friend who had also forgotten to put in her lenses. Between us, we gazed into each other's eyes because we were the only people we could see who weren't blurred. We solved all the world's problems while we drank the white wine lake dry. So, for Mothering Sunday, no bellringing for us because a) we got up too late and b) the daughter and grand-daughter visited with a chocolate cake so it seemed like a good excuse not to go up the church tower steps and risk a nasty fall and tinnitus from those bells. The day before, a huge bouquet arrived from the prodigal son from Un...