The world from my window

The bronze nymph in England's glory Mr Champagne-Charlie comes back from the churchyard cream tea. He is crestfallen. 'They've run out of scones,' he says. 'So I'm having a gin instead.' Several gins later and he's ready for the pram race. Darling Loggins, her friend and I are pushing 'Princess Margaret' (Bubbles Champagne-Charlie), complete with bandaged feet, in a wheelchair with a gin bottle 'drip' attached. It's hard work, this running, especially in dark glasses and a nun's habit. On our first lap Bubbles loses her hat and we are nudged into the verge by The Walking Wounded, with a bandaged Champagne-Charlie the passenger in another wheelchair being pushed by Mr Grigg, Anakin Sheepwash and Number One Son. They are closely followed by Celebrity Farmer in a pig mask and assorted members of his family wearing animal heads. Postman Pat rushes by and four blue Smurfs shoot past, the drizzle making their paint run. Te...

It's been a busy weekend. Scarecrows, fetes and the football. This one had the right idea - one of many in The Enchanted Village with a flagon of ale in his hand. As the village parade made its way around the one-way system accompanied by morris dancers, Ding Dong Daddy (he of The Imagined Village fame) prepared to serenade the passing procession with his musician friend.  Their tune soared to meet the participants - only for the parade to go down the road instead of past their house, so they ended up playing to the wind. It would never happen at Glastonbury.  We had Richard the Lionheart across the road. Some guy who lost his head down a leafy lane.  A sinister-looking Wicker Man attached to the beacon brazier.  Afternoon tea on the allotments. Juggling in the bungalow gardens.  A beheading on the council estate. The Maid of Rubbish on the railings of the village green.  Dainty Nell, created by the chef Lesley Waters' artistic mum. An...

My mother told me the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Well, the road to West Bay certainly is. We didn't make it last Friday night. Instead we were lured into our neighbour Mrs Bancroft's house with the cry: 'Coo-ee, fancy a glass of wine?' So we popped in and, an hour later, fell out again. The draining board was full of her best china from earlier, after the 'girls' (average age 65) called in for tea, cake and salmon and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. This was a pre-fete meeting, where Mrs Bancroft butters up the ladies to prepare them for helping out with the teas. Each year, they dress appropriately according to the theme. This year it is children's fictional characters and she had an idea. But how would they take it? Hence all the grub. 'How about 101 Dalmatians?' she asked, dipping her toe into the water. 'Woof, woof,' they barked in unison. If they'd had puppy dog tails they would have wagged them. So tha...

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...

We have a small band of kids in this village who are growing up to a be a complete pain in the arse. One of them snapped off a plum tree that was just about to flower. Destroying a tree, a living thing, is bad enough, but this tree was planted in memory of one of our own, who did loads for the local community. It's no wonder some people would quite gladly take the culprits round the back of the church and give them a damn good thrashing But violence isn't the answer. We have to shame them, make them realise that messing on their own doorstep is not very clever. Every once in a while this kind of thing happens, a particular child with parents who don't care very much or are completely blind to the thug their child is growing into. And then all the kids get blamed, they all get a bad name. So what to do in this situation? A notice has been put on the green to inform people what has happened and how sad it has made people feel. But in the grand scheme of things, it's not a...