The world from my window

And so I'm back. From outer space. I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face... You should have changed that stupid lock , you should have made me leave my key , if you'd known for just one second I'd be back to bother thee...   It's been two weeks since I've blogged - two long weeks - and I've missed you, I really have. Whether you've even noticed I'd gone is another matter. I'm sorry about that Darzet version of I Will Survive , but I needed to make an entrance just to see if you were still awake. I have been up to my neck in stupid essays for this stupid MA. The one in stupid classics and ancient stupid history I thought I'd do because I love Greek mythology and poncing around the stupid Ionian a couple of times a stupid year. Talk about jumping in without thinking. Stupid. I'm a skimmer, a scratcher-of-the-surface so it's been a struggle, combing the day job and such intense study in such a short ti...

I walk up to the village hall to our 'outreach' post office. We've had two sessions a week since losing our post office a couple of years ago. 'Tai chi?' says our district councillor at the door. 'Sorry, no, I've only come to post a letter.' She seems a little too eager to rope me into something I really don't want to do. So I get in the queue to send off a very late Christmas card to an old Bridport friend now living in Australia. A dour Mr Putter is standing behind me and in a hurry but I stand my ground because I've got things to do, people to see. And then I become aware of the relaxing, oriental music. I turn around and look across into the main body of the hall. A crowd of grey-haired onlookers are gazing wistfully at the gentle scene unfolding before them. Six ladies are doing a tai chi demonstration, arms slowly revolving and legs-a-pointing like some very weird line-dance routine. The music stops and the hall is buzzing...

As the church strikes eight o'clock across a still village square, the blinds come up on the shop window and customers line up on the pavement outside to get their Good Friday paper. Even on a bank holiday, there is not much time for a rest for the shopkeeper and his little band of helpers. Dandelion clocks breeze across the fields, much too early for this time of year. We are living in a hazy heatwave this past week, summer has arrived and it is still only April. On the church tower, the union flag is still flying to mark the Queen's (real) birthday yesterday. Hot cross buns are waiting in the wings to come out at The Enchanted Village hall a little while later. We will gather and natter, have tea and coffee, sitting out at tables and chairs arranged in the car park and soaking up this glorious weather. And we will say: 'I just can't believe all this sunshine. Isn't it wonderful?' This morning we emerge from the hovel after a surreal night on the tiles ...