The world from my window

The village square is deathly quiet. The red pelargoniums around the village pump are fading now and the white nicotianas outside my house look like long, spidery tendrils and they've given up the ghost. The shop has been closed now for almost three weeks but still cars pull up, drivers get out, try the shop door, then look at their watches, shrug, get back in their cars and drive off again. I've just had an email from a local councillor, pointing me to a Lottery-funded scheme to set up local enterprises. 'I'm sending you this because I hear your Village has closed.' He's missed out a word, but it sure feels like it. And now it's raining. That's about it. Love Maddie x

Oh, calamity and woe. Not only has our shopkeeper had another change of heart and is shutting up the store on September 1, our pub is due to close when the landlords leave in October. The brewery is looking for a new publican, but how seriously, no-one can tell. Cripes. After a village square full of activity, I fear there will be only a village square full of nothing. It's as if the ley lines beneath our feet have shorted out. There are people working hard behind the scenes to sort this out. As I write, Mr Grigg and Mr Putter are in deep conversation...in the pub. I am half temped to say 'I'll do it!' But having run a pub for Palmers Brewery for three years, I can safely say it's not the easiest of tasks. (If you go to the link and have to take a step back from the screen, I apologise. Someone should tell them black is not a good background for a website). We increased the trade, but at some cost to our personal lives. Number One Son's second cousin ...

As the rest of Lush Places toddled off to a party to which we were not invited (how could that possibly be ?), our thoughts turned to the village shop. It's the centrepiece of The Enchanted Village, along with our pub, church, phone box, village hall, school and parish pump. We're lucky to have them. But, like the parish pump, the shop might not be in full working order for much longer. For some time now, the shop has been for sale. Our shopkeeper has had enough, the stock has been running down and his final hope was an auction last Friday. Despite Mr Grigg's best efforts (see my blog post for the Real West Dorset website), the bids failed to reach the reserve. And with the publican throwing in the towel, we will soon be looking out on to a soulless, empty square. I can hear the clock strike thirteen, the shop sign creaking and a ginger wig blowing like tumbleweed up the path. Watch this space. That's about it. Love Maddie x