The world from my window

The seagulls are buffeted in batches as they attempt to cross the West Bay sky. People in new hats and scarves walk around the harbour. An elderly couple wear matching reindeer jumpers. A half-breed terrier barks bravely at two huskies, wolves in eskimo clothing.  A child tears around on a toy tractor with only a small wall between him and a muddy end. The tide is out and so are all the after-Christmas revellers, soaking up the salt air like good quality kitchen roll mops up those yuletide spills. The Grigg household is quiet now, after a Christmas Day for waifs and strays at the Champagne-Charlies and Boxing Day with thirty eight relatives ensconced in various corners of the house, children squealing and being obliging or otherwise, people going outside for crafty fags and teenagers cursing because they couldn't send a text. In The Enchanted Village, no-one can hear your mobile phone scream. There is no signal. Tonight we will process around the village for a safari ...

I expect everyone's house is the same. The tinsel and baubles packed away, the spindly, sad Christmas tree ready to go to the tip. The house is clean, dusted - and dull. It is the same in the Square. From my window over the festive period, you could see the twinkling white lights of Christmas trees. Mr Grigg helped the neighbours take them down yesterday and now the magic has gone. Just dull, mushiness. Cold, wet, dreary. Before the real world kicked back in, our festivities continued this weekend with a safari supper for 14. We had pre-dinner drinks and nibbles at one house, walked down to the next for starters, strode up to ours for main course, ambled down the lane for puddings at Mr and Mrs Sheepwash's, back up next door for cheese and biscuits and then staggered across the road for after-dinner drinks. We were stuffed with goats cheese, venison, veggie delights and all sorts. As we made our way across the road, someone had written 'Sex Bom' in the frost on my car w...