The world from my window

Back in The Shire, the weather has been Corfu-like in its warmth and sunshine. West Bay - known to millions of television viewers as Broadchurch - is sparkling, with people chilling out, enjoying picnics and barbecues on the beach and the kiosks doing a roaring trade. There are plenty of boats in the harbour and skippers pottering around in slow motion. There's not much mackerel about - yet. But give it time, they'll be back. From the sea, the sandstone cliffs look more beautiful than ever. Just don't stand on the edge or underneath them. Inland, the young men who work for agricultural contractors are roaring through the narrow lanes of Lush Places at breakneck speed on tractors towing machinery the size of the Channel Islands. Time is money, so they try to do it as quickly as possible. I'm a farmer's daughter. I appreciate work needs to be done. I live in the countryside and farming life goes on, just as it should do. But these contra...

Despite the best of intentions, the only prizes we came away with last night were raffle prizes. We entered three teams for the wine and wisdom quiz, came first on a round that had neither points nor prizes and those on the neighbouring table were joint third. We got told off for having our tables too close together, the wine ran out and they changed the format from last year - obviously worried our pillaging team would run away with the prizes again. There is always next year. However, our B team (pictured above) broke the table they were sitting at and Mr Loggins cut his finger, spilling blood and red wine all over the floor, so maybe not. This is the man who is a dab hand with a chainsaw. Luckily, the ever-ready Mrs Sheepwash had a pack of plasters in her cavernous handbag. Mr St John has been seen in the village wearing smart, long trousers. Dark cords, apparently. This is a revelation because, whatever the weather, he always wears shorts. We understand his Lady Friend prefers lon...